After years of neglect, a new generation of fans discovered the seminal drama series—which has lead to a third season being greenlit by Showtime after 25 years. Are we forever cursed to be given everything we want until the end of time?
We Saw the World’s First Throne Made Out of ‘Jerry Maguire’ VHS Tapes
Everything Is Terrible first established themselves through a DVD series, where bizarre and forgotten video clips are edited rhythmically to themes like “Holiday,” “Hip Hop,” and “Disneyland.” They’re intensely popular: Fans flock to their screenings around the country, there’s even been two “movies” and their collaboration with Los Angeles’s Cinefamily—the Everything Is Festival—is in its fifth year.
Dimitri Simakis and Nic Maier are the co-creators of Everything is Terrible and their long-running project, Maguirewatch, wants your VHS copies of Jerry Maguire. Their goal is to save billions ofJerry Maguire tapes “from their natural thrift store habitats.” There have been plenty of copycats, but the EIT folks have been at this since 2009. With a current collection of 7,489—I’d say they’ve been making some strides. We caught up with Simakis and Maier at Cinefamily, where they were unveiling a massive Jerry Maguire throne.
VICE: What’s important about chronicling Jerry Maguire VHS tapes versus other VHS tapes?
Dimitri Simakis: Absolutely nothing, and I think that’s the point. Jerry Maguire is a movie version of a piece of white paper, and yet every thrift shop, every flea market, and every fledgling video store has a disturbing amount of Jerry Maguire tapes. They’re like these perfectly ripe cherry tomatoes that you see from a mile away, and you can’t [help] but notice a pattern. Like a jerk, I started placing them next to each other and taking photos, thinking “Oh, this’ll be cute! We’ll ask fans to post their own Jerry sightings and call it ‘Maguirewatch! Ha ha ha!” But when we premiered our first movie at The Cinefamily we really wanted to put on a show. We went to Amoeba, bought a hundred Jerrys and unveiled them onstage like “Eh? A hundred Jerry Maguire tapes looks pretty cool, right?” Cut to seven years later and our count is currently 7,489 Jerrys. At this point, I can’t fucking believe this is still happening. It’s gone from sort-of funny, to not as funny—to not even a little funny—to these tapes will be the death of us. That is, until we saw them all in one place at Everything Is Festival and we remembered why we started doing this in the first place—because a throne made of 7,489 Jerry Maguires looks fucking awesome.
Hell yeah, it does. I couldn’t help but take a photo with the cardboard bishop’s hat myself. On that note, why do you think so many Jerry Maguire tapes have been discarded over the years?
Nic Maier: There’s been many theories tossed around over the years. They include the timing of the movie’s release being the last huge hit before the DVD era, the false flag popularity of it where every yokel with a VCR bought it because it won some award only to never pop that seal; the rise and fall of Cuba [Gooding Jr.], the number of catchphrases per capita were higher than any other release ever, and so on. However, it is actually way bigger than all that. The fate of the Jerry is controlled by something far greater than the fickle hand of mere consumer godliness. The Jerrys exist on a cosmic level above all other consumer items. The creator made them, released them, and sent us to return them home—for what, we don’t know. It is a very “Noah’s yacht” type of scenario. Once we have them all, we’ll be told what’s next and possibly also why and whatnot. Until then, we’re just going to keep mindlessly stacking and moving, moving and stacking…
Haunting Photos of Bosnia’s Never-Ending Land Mine and Flooding Problem
Earlier this year, Bosnia experienced massive flooding, and as a result land mines that had been dormant for almost two decades slid into towns, disguised under a layer of wet, dark earth.
Above: NPA Bosnia engineer with mine-clearing dog
Warning tape in Orasje, Bosnia
A Prom-1 antipersonnel land mine
Portrait on the wall of a flooded house
The study of a flooded house
A bridge in Doboj that’s believed to be above washed-up land mines
An NPA Bosnia engineer
An explosives box
Nikola Tesla High School
A flooded study in the village of Mladici
A pool filled with flood water
More flood water in the pool
Spice bottles in a kitchen after a flood
A waterlogged family photo album
Hailing from the picturesque Catskill mountains, photographer Juan Madrid takes intimate portraits of the seemingly unapproachable as he chronicles and humanizes the once-great and now-fallen cities and towns of America. Focusing mainly on the quieter moments of these regions that haven’t been covered by major media outlets, Madrid allows us to feel these places like we haven’t before. We talked to Juan about rampant poverty, knife fights, and the problems with new growth in old cities.
Dev Hynes, New York, September 2014. Photo by Matthew Leifheit.
Hobbes Ginseberg is a 20-year-old Los Angeles-based photographer who doesn’t want to make a big deal about their gender but prefers the pronouns she or they. They moved to Seattle after completing high school, and a year and a half after that followed their dreams to Hollywood. We met when I was in LA visiting artists on official VICE business last month, and I was immediately struck by Hobbes’s alert, inquisitive presence. After having known each other for no more than five minutes, we decided we should work together on an issue of MATTEmagazine to be released at the New York Art Book Fair this week at MoMA PS1, and went to the roof of the hotel, where I made the above cover portrait. I only had four frames left on my roll of film, but somehow each picture turned out to be interesting. Hobbes is someone who uses their self-image as their art, so this wasn’t actually that surprising. A mix of politically engaged self-portraiture in photography in the tradition of Catherine Opie, Cobain-scented soft grunge internet phenomena, and something indescribably glamourous and completely their own, Hobbes’s Selfies made me want to find out more about them.
VICE: How did you start taking pictures?
Hobbes Ginsberg: I used to do a lot of street photography. Taking pictures started for me on a trip to New York in the summer of 2010 and I had this “professional” point-and-shoot camera that I borrowed from a friend. I started taking photos of all the people I saw on the street who interested me visually. I had a vague idea of what street photography was at that point from deviantART, and on that trip I saw an exhibition by Henri Cartier-Bresson and some other old guy I dont remember. It took off from there. I did a lot of street work in Nicaragua.
When did you start taking pictures of yourself?
About two years ago I stopped shooting outside for a long time, and felt a need to turn inward so I just took a ton of selfies. It was easier for me to try new things that way. I borrowed some lights from the yearbook team at my school, and thats how I first got into studio work.
What kind of role does taking pictures of yourself play in your life?
In terms of my oeuvre, most people care the most about my selfies, and its what cemented my current aesthetic. It also the work I make that is the most cathartic for me. I get into these moods where I feel really shitty, and the way to fix it is to take photos.
By now, you’ve seen Mr. Wonderful’s how-to video as he makes his childhood favorite, borek, with his aunt. Now it’s time to make it on your own with this illustrated guide. You’re welcome.
The Ballad of Bimbo the Deer