Friday, November 30, 2018

The 'Thank U, Next' Video Is About Living Your Best Life

Ariana Grande is teaching a masterclass in handling breakups like a boss, and we all ought to be taking notes. From the moment Thank U, Next dropped at the beginning of November, it was lauded for its emotional maturity. Especially in light of the way Pete Davidson seemed to be endlessly milking the limelight he’d gleaned from dating Grande, the single was revenge enough on its own. From its title, “Thank U, Next” could’ve been about a pop star on the rebound, breaking hearts and taking names. Instead, the song was an anthem of empowerment—about learning from past relationships and letting it shape your future actions—and it proved, definitively, that Grande is a more evolved pop star and woman coming into her own.

When images and intel from the “Thank U, Next” music video shoot started surfacing online, the internet went into a tizzy. It appeared that Grande was recreating scenes from her favorite movies, like Mean Girls, Legally Blonde, and Bring It On, in meticulous detail.

The “Thank U, Next” video dropped on Friday with fanfare that, frankly, feels unprecedented in the YouTube era. Grande’s Twitter feed for several days before the video release was dominated by responses to eager fans begging to see the final version. In the minutes before the video premiered on Friday, nearly 500,000 people tuned in on YouTube for the live countdown. And the video itself delivered—its five and a half minutes are chock-full of star cameos (Hello, Kris Jenner!) and allusions for Grande stans to unpack.

Hers is a particularly dedicated fanbase, but the movies Grande references in the “Thank U, Next” video are also beloved, especially by millennial women who grew up with them. Bring It On, Legally Blonde, Mean Girls, and 13 Going on 30 (a curveball for some, but it’s an underrated gem) all came out between 2000 and 2004, during Grande’s older fans’ most formative years. These movies are the entertainment equivalent of comfort food and a fluffy pillow—they’re perfect to watch when you’re sick or sad or, yes, going through a breakup.

But, kind of like pop music, you’d be wrong to write off these films as fluff. They’re really fun, yes, but they’re not rom-coms in the typical sense. They’re all about women facing challenges and coming out on top. Including them in the “Thank U, Next” video goes beyond nostalgic, early 2000s cosplay. After the year Grande has had—between a terrorist attack, the death of an ex-boyfriend, and a very public whirlwind engagement—paying homage to feel-good movies about triumphant women totally tracks.

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Then there’s Bring It On, where cheerleader Torrance Shipman realizes her team’s prize-winning routine was stolen from a cheer squad in East Compton. It’s about privilege, creativity, resilience, and women coming together to right a wrong. Just like Elle, Cady, and Jenna, Torrance ends her story as a far better version of herself, one who’s learned from her struggle and come out stronger for it on the other side, and doing what’s right even if it doesn’t mean she wins.

The movies don’t parallel Grande’s journey perfectly—the things she’s confronted are way harder and darker than figuring out how to become America’s Next Top Cheer Squad. This is where the sweetness of pop music and feel-good movies dovetails. Both offer escapism, but at least in the case of “Thank U, Next” and the films referenced in its music video, the message being pushed is empowerment.

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Black Fashion Designers Weave Identity and Diversity into Their Pieces

A gospel choir sang as the first model to walk the runway for Pyer Moss’ Spring/Summer 2019 collection emerged in an ethereal white silk gown styled with teal eyeliner and an afro. She walked hand-in-hand with a young black boy wearing a FUBU by Pyer Moss sweater as the rain fell. The collection, designed by the 2018 winner of the prestigious CFDA/Vogue Fashion Fund Kerby Jean-Raymond, debuted at the Weeksville Heritage Center in Brownsville, Brooklyn.

By the end of his latest preview, 48 black models had displayed Jean-Raymond’s work, including a dress featuring a black father soothing his baby, a green silk set with multi-hued-black faces, and a white cummerbund with “See us now?” embroidered across it. Jean-Raymond is no stranger to weaving social commentary about the black American experience into his work—the designer screened a short documentary he’d produced about police brutality at his spring/summer 2016 show. To too many, black bodies are a threat, and black culture is expendable.

In Jean-Raymond’s case, his show was rightfully celebrated as a step towards diversity of perspectives in fashion, but inclusion in the fashion industry is hardly discernible. The runways of the latest New York Fashion Week featured 44.8 percent models of color, more than any other year according to The Fashion Spot. But while the runways have diversified exponentially, the number of black designers has not. “People still like to sit across the desk from people who look like them,” said Mark-Evan Blackman, professor at the Fashion Institute of Technology.

Aurora James
Aurora James (R) with Elaine Welteroth, editor in chief of Teen Vogue. Photo by Gilbert Carrasquillo/GC Images.

The best-known opportunity for emerging designers to secure funding is through the Council of Fashion Designers of America/Vogue Fashion Fund. Annually, the Fund provides $400,000 to one first place winner and $150,000 each to the two runners-up. Past winners have included fashion powerhouses Proenza Schouler, Alexander Wang, and Altuzarra. Brother Vellies won the prize in 2015 and Telfar Clemens of Telfar won first place last year.

Telfar, a socially-conscious designer, collaborated with White Castle on a capsule collection and 100 percent of the proceeds were donated to the Robert F. Kennedy Fund for Freedom and Human Rights to help minors pay bail on Rikers Island. Indifferent to the scarcity and exclusivity that drives much of the hype in fashion, Telfar’s site reads, “It's not for you — it's for everyone.” Telfar is Liberian-American and his designs are gender-fluid. His latest collection was reminiscent of the 1970s, featuring bell bottoms, mixed denim, and exaggerated cut-outs.

While the fashion industry prides itself on its open-mindedness, it’s long been helmed by white designers and editors, and finds itself wrestling with how to respond to a political climate that castigates women, minorities, and immigrants. As social media has partially democratized access, these gatekeepers must make decisions in front of an audience. Designers including Clemens, Omondi, James, and Jean-Raymond have established that representation in fashion isn’t a trend, but rather a best practice.

“For the first time, Americans are starting to understand that American does not just mean cherry pie and cowboy boots,” said Omondi. “People want to be able to tell their own stories rather than having their stories told for them.”

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Millennials Aren't 'Killing' Industries, We're Just Broke, Study Finds

For years, the personal habits of millennials have been pored over as if the generation now between 21 and 35 years old had descended from outer space. Millennials have been accused of "killing" everything from malls to threesomes to golf to home ownership. Along the way, various theories about young adults have been floated—maybe they're spending too much on avocado toast to buy homes, maybe they aren't going to casinos because they can play games on their phones. But a new study from the Federal Reserve suggests a simple reason behind a lot of millennial consumption habits: We don't have as much money as previous generations.

The November study, which has been covered by NPR, among other outlets, notes that the "economic wellbeing of the millennial generation, which entered its working-age years around the time of the 2007-09 recession, has received considerable attention from economists and the popular press," but finds that "millennials do not appear to have preferences for consumption that differ significantly from those of earlier generations." It also finds that "Millennials are less well off than members of earlier generations when they were young, with lower earnings, fewer assets, and less wealth." Adds NPR, in summarizing the Fed's work:

The study also noted newer financial obstacles for millennials. Broad economic trends depict a rise in health care expenditures, as well as a rise in college tuition that has outpaced general inflation that previous generations avoided in their young adulthood.

This isn't exactly news to millennials. As Michael Hobbes reported in his massive feature on millennials for HuffPost earlier this year, the world our generation has inherited comes with more hazards and fewer perks than the one our parents lived in. "Salaries have stagnated and entire sectors have cratered. At the same time, the cost of every prerequisite of a secure existence—education, housing, and health care—has inflated into the stratosphere," Hobbes wrote. "And the opportunities leading to a middle-class life—the ones that boomers lucked into—are being lifted out of our reach."

The Fed study isn't concerned with the causes of this generational inequality, but other sources have already mapped out the reasons for millennials' relative poverty, including a decline in unions and an uptick in policies favoring the wealthy. Additionally, many millennials graduated college during the Great Recession, when employment opportunities were scarce and the job market was flooded with laid-off workers who had more experience, an environment that likely contributed to a nasty generation gap: In 2017, it was found that millennials made 20 percent less than boomers did at the same age.

"It remains to be seen whether having reached adulthood during those unfavorable years will have permanent effects on their tastes and preferences," write the authors of the Fed study. But it seems clear that not having enough money, worrying about not having enough money, and comparing our lives to those of our parents has taken a particular kind of toll on millennials. Worries about financial instability may contribute to young people deciding not to get married or have children. As for homeownership, avocado toast explanations are self-evidently ridiculous: It appears that factors like student loans and high rent make it difficult for young people to save for a down payment.

As the Fed study found, these trends are likely driven by financial factors, not other cultural differences between generations. But millennials' lack of funds could wind up making us culturally distinct from our parents and children over time—maybe we'll be more responsible and frugal, less inclined toward hedonism and waste. Less optimistically, we could remain fearful of the future, worried about another crash, unable to properly put down roots because we never feel totally comfortable with our financial lives. Hopefully, either way we won't have to hear any more about how kooky we are.

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George R.R. Martin's 'Nightflyers' Is an Imaginative, Brutal Gorefest

Nightflyers, Syfy’s new series based on the 1984 novella by A Song of Ice and Fire author George R.R. Martin, is freaky, bloody, and full of medieval weaponry. Right from the opening scene there’s a big, hairy axe murderer, and though he’s no Sandor Clegane, Game of Thrones fans will feel right at home watching the blood of important characters flow.

Martin compared the dark, 10-episode first contact series to Alien in the New York Times. As in Thrones, the balance of power is practically a character in Nightflyers. Instead of a loose coalition of warring nation-states, the factions are a ragtag group of scientists and the residents of a colony ship called the Nightflyer enlisted to investigate a mysterious alien entity called “The Volcryn.” Earth is dying, and rugged researcher Dr. Karl D’Branin (Eoin Macken) thinks tapping into its powerful energy will save the planet.

Despite an executive producer shakeup in March and a few classic 80s sci-fi novella tropes—D’Branin pledges to return to his family alive (lol) and the crew members resolve tense moments with sexual non-sequiturs—the first few episodes of the show released to press deliver real spooks and scares.

The card up D’Branin’s sleeve is a moody psychic boy named Thale (Sam Strike) who exhibits similar energy readings to the Volcryn and might be able to communicate with the them. However, people with his type of powers, known as “L1s,” are feared and hated by normal people (heyo, X-Men). Since He can read the passengers’ most vulnerable thoughts and control their perception, and he keeps accidentally fucking up their minds and making their eyes bleed when he gets stressed. Almost every scene he’s in is hallucinatory and hellish in a good way.

The only person keeping Thale in check is a psychiatrist named Dr. Agatha Matheson (Gretchen Mol). A sci-fi lynch mob of Nightflyer passengers blame him for a series of mysterious accidents that happen throughout the ship, so she keeps trying to put Thale into a drug-induced coma. He hates the drugs, and they don’t work anyway, which is an example of the show’s biggest frustration: nobody on board thinks anything through.


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Nobody prepared the crew for the magic psychic stowing away on their ship, so they naturally freak out at the thought of him. The captain of the ship, an elusive man named Eris (David Ajala), watches everyone through cameras and only appears as a hologram, but he still doesn’t have a grip on the chaos enveloping his ship. The aliens are holed up in a dangerous part of space called The Void, and no one who has approached them has come back alive. But people still treat the mission they’re on as a casual jaunt and get distracted by petty shit.

These frustrations aren’t with the writing, but with shitty human nature. It’s basically the tension of the Lannisters, the Starks, and the Targaryens bottled up in a floating tin can in the sky. As much as Eris tries, there’s no adult in the room who actually wields power and maintains order like Tywin Lannister in Thrones. With Tywin, all hell broke loose in Westeros, and that’s how everything in Nightflyers feels.

Martin told the L.A. Times that viewers can expect big surprises just like in Thrones, and the series delivers plenty of shocking twists in the episodes released to press. “Space is an incredible setting for a horror story because you are isolated,” he said. “There are no cops to call when you’re four light-years from the nearest planet.”

The effects are solid enough, keep the creepy vibe real, and the scares are genuinely chilling, rarely relying solely on a startling jump cut. Like Westeros, the Earth of Nightflyers feels deep and reflects Martin’s dark view of human behavior, increasingly reaffirmed by the news cycle. While Nightflyers will air during Game of Thrones’ familiar Sunday night, it’s not a perfect fit for fans looking to plug a hole that won’t be filled until the HBO show returns sometime in April.

But hey, Nightflyers is out on Syfy December 2 at 10 PM EST.

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How I Built a Successful Small Business

In September 2010, I up and quit my soul-crushing desk job to launch my New York–based bakery, Ovenly. For the first two years, my business partner Agatha Kulaga and I did everything: We worked seven days a week, arriving at our rented, beat-up Red Hook, Brooklyn, kitchen by 4 AM to bake, then deliver treats in our even more beat-up 1997 Ford Explorer, and then spent the rest of the day mixing pistachio-cardamom quickbread and shaping currant rosemary scones, washing dishes, making sales, doing the books, napping in our car, and ordering ingredients. Because we were career changers, every day was a challenge and an adventure—we had no clue what the heck we were doing. (True story for the wannabe entrepreneurs out there: No one in business has any idea what they are doing until they do it.)

Fast-forward to 2015. By then, we had two bakeshops (funded by some seed money from a friend and some family acquaintances), 100 or so wholesale clients, and a lot of great media mentions,¹but it was not enough. Agatha and I envisioned building a national brand, and, while scooping salted chocolate chip cookie dough all day had its perks (for example, a beautifully honed right forearm muscle), we wanted to be pioneers and to dominate the market. Of course, the only way to accomplish that type of growth was with money, so we did what many businesspeople do in our situation: We decided to beg a bunch of rich strangers for cash.

What followed was an adventure, to say the least—one that few entrepreneurs talk honestly about. I know this because I speak at a lot of events and I’m candid about what it took to build my (medium-size) business. About the hard work and life-crushing stress. About the challenges of training and maintaining good staff. About the kind of capital it has taken, so far, to make it happen (19 investors and $1.4 million in equity investment, including $59,135 of my own money, if you would like to know specifics).

As soon as I mention “money,” my audiences—typically composed of early-stage entrepreneurs—perk up. They wait for me after events with pens wagging and notebooks open, ready to ask about the minutiae of my experience. They tell me they feel the financing process is opaque, that they just don’t know how to find money or how to woo investors,² that they feel overwhelmed, that they want to know exactly how I fundraised. And these feelings all make sense. Access to capital³ (loans, family financing, equity investment, what-have-you) is one of the biggest barriers to entry for any entrepreneur, so it’s understandable that folks want to know details.

Before I launched my own qualified financing round, I felt that way, too. I knew gender,⁴ race,⁵ and socioeconomic status disproportionately influence investment decisions, but I discovered that real information on how to raise money for a small business was almost nonexistent. Most articles and books were relevant only to much later-stage businesses, and most founders I spoke to were reticent about sharing specifics. From them, I often got non-answers, like “I had to get over being embarrassed to ask” or “I was annoyingly persistent and that’s why I won” or “I haven’t faced many challenges with fundraising. It’s actually been rather easy” (an actual quote someone gave me for this article). How did these people meet or network with high-wealth individuals? How did they learn to pitch? How did they find the right attorney and mentors to help them?

Now, I wasn’t naïve about some of the challenges I would face. For years, I had been inundated with opinions from seemingly everyone—bankers, my old boss, the pest service guy, my dad (especially my dad)—about my business: that it would fail, that baking was a “cute hobby,” that I didn’t have the right résumé to be a CEO, that I should try to start a fancy gift basket company instead. Besides my personal experiences as a woman, I knew the evidence showed that my gender mattered to the people pulling purse strings.

But then, those damn barriers surfaced.

BARRIER NO. 1: I WASN’T RICH

Agatha and I had to find outside equity in the first place because we did not have mortgages we could refinance for cash, significant personal savings to invest,⁶ or assets we could use to leverage debt. Before sending out our pitch deck, Agatha and I had attempted to secure loans from Chase Bank and the Small Business Administration, but we were denied both because our personal financial statements exhibited little net worth (unfortunately, the bankers did not think it funny when I listed my childhood Garbage Pail Kid card collection and super-nice vintage Levi’s as fixed assets). Our wealth was tied up in the shares we owned in Ovenly, and those were not liquid, so lending sources showed us the door.

BARRIER NO. 2: I DIDN’T KNOW RICH

By December 2015, our deck (which I learned to write by asking everyone I knew to share theirs with me and by attending a “Scale Up Your Small Food Business” seminar at the Food Business School) was in people’s inboxes. Less than two months later, we had won 50 percent of our $1,000,000 goal from four individuals either personally acquainted with Agatha or me or who knew the company and liked it.

After we raised that first half, however, we ran out of people to pitch. For months we searched and networked, and it was not until 30 days before we had to close that we found more money. Though we had tried to find introductions, we had little access to high-net-worth individuals through our families, friends, former coworkers, or food industry colleagues.

Simply put, we didn’t start rich, so we didn’t know rich.

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Illustration by Lia Kantrowitz

THE CLOSE

By March 2016, we had pitched nine institutional firms and 72 people directly. We sent more than 200 other emails and, more often than not, messages were met with nos and meetings went nowhere. Then, a few important things happened.

  1. One of the four individuals who gave money at the start of the fundraise happened to be a well-known super-rich guy. He generously suggested we throw a happy hour at his home to cultivate more investors. People we had been trying to reach mysteriously became available and this resulted in us meeting...
  2. ...A lady who was a member of a women’s investment circle. Though she was not interested in the Ovenly opportunity herself, she liked me and suggested that we enter her group’s pitch competition (where I finally met some female investors). Long story short: I came, I pitched, and I won (beating 800 other companies), receiving about a quarter of what we needed to hit our goal.
  3. The women who invested through that group introduced us to their friends, and through them we found another small tranche of cash.
  4. Sometime in May 2016, toward the end of the round, I emailed those who had already invested and asked for more money from them, resulting in more money raised.

Ultimately, it took us seven months to close $940,000 from 16 investors. During that window, Agatha and I spent about 20 hours per week networking, taking meetings, and delivering our pitch on top of functioning in our day-to-day roles as COO and CEO, respectively.

We reached our goal in the end, but after spending so much time researching and speaking to businesspeople for advice, why, then, did I feel like I had been so ill-prepared? A couple of reasons, I think: First, I was talking to people whose experiences were different from mine—primarily white men outside of the food world, because those were the types I knew who had raised money. Second, there just is not a lot of info out there about non-venture-capital investment for small companies. And third, it turns out a lot of people didn’t feel comfortable admitting to me how hard it had been for them to raise money.

There’s no reason why I shouldn’t have known any of this, and there’s no reason you shouldn’t, either. So, while putting together this article, I reached out to 65 other founders to get a better sense of how their fundraising experiences compared with my own. I asked the respondents to be honest and transparent about their processes and the barriers they faced. Thirty of them replied.

The companies they started were in diverse industries—from homewares to coffee to financial services. They raised varying amounts of money—from $50,000 to $10,000,000. But they all had one main challenge: Lack of access to money in one form or another (debt capital, equity investment, smart money, or institutional investors) when they were starting out. Other challenges included discrimination (which almost half of the founders, men and women, I spoke to said they felt they’d faced), as well as the sheer length and difficulty of the fundraising process. Included below are insights and advice that, along with my story, I hope may help you launch or grow your own company.

FUNDING NOTES FROM FOUNDERS IN THE TRENCHES

AMANDA HESSER, COFOUNDER, FOOD52:

"Almost no investor will tell you the real, often nuanced, reason they’re saying no. But in the beginning, our noes were because our category (food and cooking) wasn’t popular among venture investors, and we were viewed as two ‘editors’ with no business experience. Our domain expertise and reputations did not help us nearly as much as we thought they should."

JONATHAN RUBINSTEIN, FOUNDER, JOE COFFEE COMPANY:

"Spend some time ‘dating’ investors before you marry one of them. And don’t sign with the first company who offers you money, as temping as it might be. The right investor relationship is crucial, and it comes down to more than money—culture, vision, and commitment to quality should be equally weighed."

NORA O’MALLEY, COFOUNDER, LOIS AND AIDA:

"We had to learn the hard way that no one ever actually says no. After our first few VC meetings, we took their feedback so seriously and changed aspects of our business to look the way we thought they wanted us to look. Finally, one of our advisers clued us in to the fact that no one wants to say no, so they just come up with something to say, and if you took it all to heart you’d be chasing your tail directly away from your core business."

SAM BUFFA, FOUNDER, FELLOW BARBER:

"I think the biggest thing we learned is that it’s easier to raise money for either a business/idea that doesn’t exist or a company over a certain revenue amount. Usually north of 10 to 15 million dollars."

CHRISTINA CORVINO, COFOUNDER, CORVINO SUPPER CLUB & TASTING ROOM:

“Most people let themselves languish in the purgatory of planning, trying to make everything perfect. But the truth is, most funders decide in the first five minutes or less. It’s in their gut. So get your plan out there and don’t waste time. Don’t ask, don’t get.”

JEN KING, COFOUNDER, LIDDABIT SWEETS:

“Raising money really requires confidence. It was very hard not to question myself constantly. I think as a woman, we play the ‘nice’ card too much and doubt ourselves too much.”

DANIEL DELANEY, FOUNDER, DELANEY CHICKEN:

“I would say the hardest challenge for me has been understanding how to communicate struggles and challenges with investors. I always want to please, and have found myself shutting down when I had less-than-ideal news to deliver.”

NATASHA CASE, COFOUNDER, COOLHAUS ICE CREAM:

“You should vet investors as much as—if not more than—they vet you. Very key to realize you are bringing a huge opportunity to investors, and you can’t have them hampering the potentially massive growth/evolution of your company.”


1 Ovenly has been named one of the best bakeries in New York City by Time Out New York, the Village Voice, and many food blogs and media sources. Ovenly baked goods have won the praise of the New York Times, Food52, the Wall Street Journal, Eater, Serious Eats, Saveur, and many others.

2 According to data compiled by Fundable, only 0.91 percent of startups are funded by angel investors.

3 According to the Small Business Administration, “The major constraint limiting the growth, expansion, and wealth creation of small firms—especially women- and minority-owned businesses—is inadequate capital.”

4 Bloomberg stated that, in 2015, the year I started to raise money, of the $63.3 billion in venture capital invested, only about seven percent went to companies that had one female founder. The rest went to male-founded companies.

5 As reported by Forbes, fewer than one percent of American venture capital-backed founders are black.

6 According to the Small Business Association, 75 percent of entrepreneurs relied on personal savings to start companies, while only around 12 percent received loans. Fewer than six percent received other sources of cash from sources like venture capital or grants.

7 The earnings before interest, taxation, depreciation, and amortization of one store or unit of a business.

8 A study by Pitchbook reported by Fortune in 2017 showed all-women teams received only $1.8 billion of the $85 billion invested.

This article originally appeared on Munchies.

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Unearthed Photos of Hip-Hop Royalty from the 80s and 90s

On a sunny September day in Harlem 20 years ago—just over a year after Biggie’s death and two years after Tupac’s—XXL magazine made music history with a photograph. Staff reached out to hundreds of hip-hop pioneers to recreate A Great Day In Harlem, the iconic image of jazz legends like Dizzy Gillespie, Thelonious Monk, and Gene Krupa hanging out on a Harlem stoop, shot on August 12, 1958 by photographer Art Kane for Esquire magazine. For the hip-hop version, XXL commissioned legendary black photographer Gordon Parks.

The editorial team had no idea how many rappers would show, but the turnout overwhelmed their expectations. More than 100 hip-hop artists—from the East to the West Coast, old school to new—piled onto the cement steps of 17 East 126th Street, where the original photo was shot decades before. Among them were Rakim, Busta Rhymes, members of The Roots and A Tribe Called Quest, Pete Rock, Grandmaster Flash, Slick Rick and many others.

In a video shot by Nelson George documenting the day, Mos Def seems stunned by the sheer number of legends in attendance, pointing out how surreal it is seeing everyone together midday. The photo almost didn’t happen, because Parks’s team struggled to pry rappers out of embraces to position them. They spilled over onto a third stoop, and as time passed, a dark shadow crept across the street, threatening to ruin the shot. Just as a voice yelled, “We’re losing Jermaine Dupri,” Reverend Run popped up last minute, slowly strolling up the block and falling into formation like the last puzzle piece before Parks captured the moment.

People who were there reminisced about the day at an event in November at the Schomburg Center in Harlem. Writer Miles Lewis referred to the image as “hip-hop’s graduation photo,” and Fab Five Freddy called it the last moment of “the golden era” before the genre took on new life in other regions of the world.

Yet for all the photo’s significance, it simply hadn’t become nearly as famous as the original or a number of other hip hop photos that came to represent the era. I saw it for the first time spread across the opening pages of Contact High, a new photography book chronicling hip hop’s rise, told by photographers revisiting their contact sheets of iconic and little-known shoots. “It was like asking someone to see their diary,” author Vikki Tobak told VICE. “[These contact sheets] were never meant for public consumption. It shows all of their mistakes, and it shows the artists’ mistakes too where they’re being awkward or overly trying to be a certain way. But that’s important right now when images are really perfect, to say it’s all a process.”

More than that, by shifting attention to images that are forgotten and unpublished, Contact High shows how much more there is to learn about an era casual fans think they know from the few images that still circulate online. Some of the photographers featured in the book even rediscovered shoots they hadn’t thought about in decades, finding renewed significance in the snapshots they’d captured.

Many of the photos in the book are ones author Vikki Tobak remembered from her years covering hip-hop as a journalist in the 90s. Later, working as a producer, she was inspired by the carefully kept archives at CNN and CBS and began calling up old acquaintances to see what they might unearth. “A lot of these contact sheets were tucked away in shoe boxes or tucked away in the back of closets or in basements,” Tobak said.

Also, many early photos from the 80s were unpublished, because “a lot of the photographers weren’t professionals [at the time]. They just loved [hip-hop] culture or were a part of the culture, just like the artists,” Tobak added.

Tobak discovered Biggie’s very first photoshoot when she called photographer George Debose looking for images of Big Daddy Kane. Dubose told her an incredible story about the time he trekked to Bed-Stuy in 1992 to photograph Biggie Smalls, a then-unknown rapper, for a collage of various artists printed on the back of a 12” record. The blown-up photo of Biggie featured in Contact High is electric. The artist points to street signs on the corner of Bedford and Quincy in Brooklyn, while friends spontaneously swarm the shoot and bring out a huge gun (that eventually scared off the photographer). It’s clear from the image, the authentic energy that launched Biggie’s career was in full force.

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(Left) Salt n Pepa 1989 shot by Janette Beckman. (Right) Mary J Blige shot by Michael Benabib 1992. Reprinted from "Contact High." Copyright © 2018 by Vikki Tobak. Published by Clarkson Potter, an imprint of Penguin Random House, LLC

Contact High comes out at a time when institutions like Harvard, Cornell, and the Google Cultural Institute are thinking about how to archive hip-hop history. The book demonstrates the kind of mass reflection that is necessary to do the job justice. Tobak said that photographers have been reaching out to her on Instagram, sending her new contact sheets of things like Wu Tang’s first press photos and early portraits of Kendrick Lamar. Next April, the photos in Contact High will take on new life as an exhibition at the Annenberg Space for Photography in LA before traveling the country.

For contemporary photographers, the era encapsulated in Contact High represents a time when photo shoots were more spontaneous, controlled by fewer people. “It’s really hard for a young photographer today because they’re standing on the shoulders of all this imagery, and they’re dealing with a fast news cycle, and artists have become a lot more protective of their image,” Tobak says. “It’s not harder to get iconic photos, but it’s harder to get iconic authentic raw moments that aren’t over thought or overly planned.”

Tobak says she appreciates young photographers just shooting their friends and the simple things they find meaningful around them, and she hopes they don’t get discouraged if they’re not having a breakout moment. “For the people in this book, that was pretty much the same. It took over 40 years to understand what that moment was. So I would say don’t overthink it too much. Just follow your gut, and follow beauty, and follow what you think is important right now," she said. Perhaps the key takeaway of Contact High is that what may seem random today could show people a whole lot about this era in retrospect.

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Over 50,000 Fans Want the Super Bowl to Play This ‘SpongeBob’ Song at Halftime

On Monday, marine biologist-turned-SpongeBob Squarepants creator Stephen Hillenburg died at 57. Hillenburg's iconic cartoon about a porous yellow rectangle brought some light and optimism to our dark world, and even taught at least one kid how to do the Heimlich maneuver. So in honor of his passing, one brilliant fan hatched a plan to celebrate Hillenburg in the best way he knew how: by getting the song from that episode where Spongebob plays a halftime show into the actual 2019 Super Bowl.

The fan, Isreal Colunga, hopped on Change.org and launched a petition calling for "Sweet Victory" to be featured in the upcoming halftime show "as a tribute to [Hillenburg's] legacy, his contributions to a generation of children, and to truly showcase the greatness of this song." Apparently, the world agreed—the petition has already pulled in more than 50,000 signatures since it launched on Tuesday, and it's still climbing.

For those pitiful few who don't know the entire SpongeBob oeuvre by heart, the song comes from an episode called "Band Geeks," in which SpongeBob and the gang venture up onto dry land to perform during halftime at the Bubble Bowl.

"Sweet Victory" is a truly ripping 80s power ballad, like something Foreigner might've written in their heyday if they woke up one morning magically transformed into cartoon sea creatures, and by God, it is exactly the thing the Super Bowl halftime show needs.

"It's a hugely inspirational song that I listen to when working out and boosting confidence, but besides that I want it played at the Super Bowl to honor the man who gave us one of the greatest and most quotable cartoons of all time," a petition supporter named Jonathan Hersey said. "I need it," another wrote simply.

The version of "Sweet Victory" that aired in SpongeBob was performed by a guy named David Glen Eisley. Unfortunately, Eisley probably won't be playing the halftime show no matter how many signatures this petition gets, since Maroon 5 is already set to perform.

But given that halftime shows historically just feature bands playing medleys of their most popular songs, along with the fact that Maroon 5 has never written anything that reaches the epic heights of "Sweet Victory" over the course of the band's entire career, maybe the petition will inspire Adam Levine to belt out a few lines of the song in Hillenburg's honor. At least 50,000 people out there know it's the right thing to do.

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Responsible Teen Drives 138 MPH Just to Make It Home Before Curfew

Teens these days are lame as hell. They don't smoke or drink or have sex nearly as much as they used to, and somehow even their attempts at rebellion wind up making principals happy. Apparently, they're such goddamn do-gooders that they'll do whatever it takes to follow their parents' rules—even if that means pulling a Ferris Bueller and racing like a madman to get home on time.

According to Michigan Live, a 17-year-old in Detroit was busted by the cops last weekend after he was caught speeding down the highway at 138 MPH because he was "late for curfew."

Police pulled the unnamed teen over at 8:45 PM after they spotted him racing down I-75 like some kind of wannabe Dale Earnhardt Jr. But when they caught up to the kid and talked to him, the cops realized he wasn't some reckless youth on a joyride or whatever—he was apparently just a very good boy trying to make his 9:30 PM curfew and keep his parents happy.

According to the Michigan State Police, the trooper "gave the kid a break on the reckless driving charge"—presumably because the boy's motives were pure as hell—but the cop still slapped him with a hefty speeding ticket. The tweet also awarded the teen the "SMH award," which should make for a great addition to his college applications.

The Detroit PD didn't specify exactly what kind of a fine the kid landed, but Michigan Live points out that tickets for going 26 MPH over the limit or more start at $155 (with $4 extra per mile), so his parents are probably shelling out at least a couple hundred bucks for their responsible teen's, uh, not-so-responsible drive home. Maybe this'll teach them to make the kid's curfew just a bit more lenient so he doesn't have to go full Bueller the next time he stays out too late.

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'Garbagino,' Today's Comic by John McNamee

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We Asked Beto's Biggest Fans Why They Love Him So Much

If you know one thing about Beto O'Rourke, it's that he's cool. The Democratic Texas congressman couldn't beat Ted Cruz in this month's Senate race, but he came closer then many thought, and in the process became the most hyped political figure since Barack Obama. The media descended upon him in the weeks leading up to the midterms as if at any moment he could be raptured from Earth—it got so bad that in October, Politico's Jack Shafer called for the press to stop profiling him. Beto was progressive. He was hip. Maybe you heard that he refused to take PAC money and raised $38 million in three months. Maybe you saw him skating in that Whataburger parking lot, and later read that he was the bassist in a post-hardcore band with drummer Cedric Bixler-Zavala, the future frontman for At the Drive-In and the Mars Volta. Maybe you heard him say "fuck" during his concession speech. Maybe you found the sex tweet—or perhaps the sex tweet found you.

In any case, "Betomania" is far from over: Last week, the new star appeared to backtrack on his previous pledge not to run for president in 2020. Despite losing to Cruz, he may have a shot at winning the White House—he's young (by politician standards), good-looking (again, by politician standards), and people seem to like him. But why exactly do people like him?

For some clarity, VICE talked to a California music teacher, a painter whose Beto mural in Austin went viral, the director of a Beto "flash mob" video, a New York lawyer who flew to Dallas to campaign at the last minute, and two Texas natives about their enduring love for the failed Senate candidate. (I reached out to the author of the sex tweet, but she did not respond.)

Lauren Mayer, 59, Music Teacher and Comedian, California

Mayer made this song about her love for Beto:

I'm a political satirical songwriter, and since 2012, I've done a song a week based on current events. Let's just say: Now there's so much material, and there's so little time. These days, I could make a song, like, every half-hour. I do them from my perspective, from the perspective of an opinionated, fairly liberal, suburban Jewish mother. I try to cover a range of issues, but during the midterms, I wanted to do some positive songs, as well as making fun of various people—which, of course, means making fun of the president, because it's easy.

I had been following Texas's Senate race very closely. Because there's a lot of commentary on the internet about Ted Cruz, I was paying a lot of attention—and eventually I saw some of the viral videos of Beto, like playing the air drums, or giving a speech in an African-American church. So even before I quite understood how popular he was—or rather how popular he would become—and how rabid his fans were, I thought he would be a great person to write a song about.

I did a couple about other different candidates, but for some reason—I think because people have a kind of fangirl or fanboy crush on Beto, too, in addition to the political admiration—that song just really caught on. I've had a few other videos go viral—like the "Sexual Harassment Prevention Song," which has millions of views, and the country western "I Didn't Come from Your Rib, I Came from Your Vagina"—but this is the first one I've done about a person that's had this sort of response. I think it's the combination of his appeal, especially online, and all the news about him, as well as the fact that a lot of Republicans just don't like Ted Cruz.

As far as what I think about Beto as a human, aside from his progressiveness and passion, what I love is that no matter what the Cruz campaign threw at him, it really just made him look that much cooler. They mocked him for being a rock star in his past, but, you know, that's really cool. He's had some issues, like his DUI, that I find he did a great job owning up to. They tried to slam him for dropping F-bombs, but that just makes him appeal more to millennials.

Another thing: I'm exaggerating the fangirl type here. Let's be honest, I'm probably old enough to be his mother. I do admire him politically, as I said. But he's also super cool and hip. He's married, and he's way too young for me—but that doesn't matter. Just because I'm a married suburban mom doesn't mean I can't look! I can still have a crush on him. And so can you.

Hussein Ma'Rouf, 47, Director and Creative Producer, Dallas

Ma'Rouf helped produce the video of the viral Beto "flash mob":

Beto isn't backed by Super PACs. He doesn't want companies to have leverage over him. He wants to make decisions based on what he believes in, and what the people call for. That's perhaps the biggest thing. He visited all the Texas counties—and, I mean, physically visited them. This guy's down to earth. He's a real person, someone who people can see, and who I think people can talk to and get answers from. He's perhaps most reminiscent, for me, of somebody like JFK—he's younger, with a fresh outlook on things.

I've been living in Texas, on and off, for the past 20 or so years, and, honestly, I haven't really seen anything like this. It also has something to do with all his national media attention—in a positive way, in this case. The media put forward the narrative that somebody was actually challenging Cruz and had a chance—and whether we really thought that chance was real or not, it became real.

The media is the most powerful tool in democracy. I was born and lived in Egypt, and I know what it's like to have a media that's the mouthpiece of the government, of the regime. It further galvanized everyone, because the media was also clearly drawn toward this candidate as much as the people were. To come so close, to lose by that slim of a margin, was even a threat for Cruz. I wasn't disappointed. I know people who had never voted in a Senate race before, or who never voted before period, who voted this time.

In terms of him running for president, I know that he's first said that he won't—but, in my view, it's a chess match. You don't show all your moves ahead of time, so people don't plan for it. But I think he should aspire to that in 2020. I'm not sure if he will, though I suppose that depends who else is running. I could perhaps see him more running on the ticket as a vice president.

Regardless, everyone loves a good Rocky story. You work out, and you come back and win.

Chris Rogers, 38, Painter and Muralist, Austin

Rogers painted this sexy mural in Austin:

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Image courtesy of Chris Rogers

I've been living in Austin since 2012, working as a painter and muralist, slowly building up my business. I've been able to do some decent-size murals over the past year and a half that have gained some traction. I was reached out to by another supporter of Beto who was volunteering their home for other volunteers to sort of inhabit during the last weeks of the campaign. They had this nice wall out in front of their place, and they wanted to inspire other volunteers—and just kind of put his image out there. I had freedom to do whatever I wanted.

I met Beto right before the election, and the next day, the piece did get vandalized. But instead of making a big stink about it, I got the community together to help me repaint it, and that's what took it to the next level.

I've never been that political. To say I've been jaded is putting it mildly. But there was just something about Beto—first off, it was obviously a grassroots movement. So automatically, I could just open my ears to the dude. Everything coming out of his mouth, I, like, 100 percent agreed with. It's just beyond refreshing to hear somebody speak the truth.

It was the first time in a long time I've ever felt really hopeful. And to be clear, I didn't think—and don't think—that Beto's going to be this rogue samurai to cut through the Senate and change everything. But hope is huge to me. I've been in recovery for almost five years now, and hope has been something instrumental in my life. It's correlated to the state of a nation and politics—I mean, you can look at it now and think, Where do we even fucking start? Like, we're flat-lining over here, and it's a lost cause. But, this time around, it's like... Wait, is it? I don't know how it's going to change. I don't know what the next steps are. But it's going to start with people like Beto.

The energy here, it's been amazing. It's galvanized everybody—not just like blacks and Latinos, or just white people. Like, literally, everybody. People with different religions and socioeconomic backgrounds. There's some new life around here.

I really do think it's as simple as: Finally, someone's saying everything we're all thinking.


Mark Austin, 41, Talent Buyer/Promoter/Artist Manager, Houston

I don't have any tattoos just yet, but I do consider myself a Beto fan. I received an email from a mutual friend of the campaign in January 2018, and saw the work that Beto had been doing. I'd heard his name a few times, but that email was what got me really interested. I had an unofficial role in his campaign. I helped plan, book, promote, and produce fundraising concerts and voter-registration rallies.

I do think he'll run for either president or be someone's running mate. Either way, he should absolutely run. The fact that he came so close to flipping Texas (a notoriously red state) is a huge indicator that Beto has got something special. He's got my vote for sure.

Truthfully, I'm not a very political person, so I don't spend a lot of time measuring who is better or best. I'm not even sure who I would compare Beto to in politics, because I believe that what he did in Texas was very unique. In a time that we needed a great leader, and a compassionate leader, he stepped up. That's whats important here. The time is now. Change is overdue.

Timing is everything here. The people of Texas and the people of America are ready for change. Beto is for the people by the people. It really is that simple.

Cristin Noel, 40, Lawyer, New York City

I believe the first I’d really heard of Beto was when he drove up to Washington with [Republican congressman] Will Hurd, and it just struck me as such a fun, interesting story of two people having a great life experience together, despite the fact that they would normally be at odds in Washington. The fact that they later won accolades because they worked together to get some things accomplished is great, but also it’s obviously sad because it makes it plain that this kind of kinship and cooperation has become an aberration.

What inspired me so much about Beto’s run in Texas was that he ran as himself. It’s an incredibly brave thing to run as a progressive in a state that’s so undeniably red. I believe that in meeting people where they were (figuratively and literally, because he drove everywhere to them), showing them respect, and being honest and persuasive about his views and his beliefs, he probably won a lot of people who never dreamed they would vote for a Democrat.

I was inspired enough by the race he was running to fly to El Paso the weekend before Election Day to knock doors for his campaign. I felt downtrodden by the news every day and was desperate to help in the midterms. I was struck by how everywhere I went (in my cool Beto for Texas campaign shirts, obviously) people would stop me to tell me they were so excited to vote for him, or how happy they were when they did in early voting. It happened as I flew through Dallas, and all over El Paso (which is, of course, Beto country), but the excitement was something I haven’t seen since Barack Obama first ran for president in 2008.

I hope Beto will run for president in 2020. There are so many great potential candidates on our side, but I feel as though he is the right person for this moment. Speaking to hope, not fear. He is strong enough to not take any crap from anyone, but he is also not going to wade around in the mud. He could up for exactly what he believes in without poll-testing it, which is frankly one of the things people so misguidedly liked about Trump four years ago. I think that so many Americans are utterly exhausted from the last few years of insults, corruption, and news that causes nothing but anxiety and depression, and a candidate who speaks to our better angels is exactly what we need. And I think he could win.

Lisa Cooley, 40, Art Adviser, New York City

I’m an eighth-generation Texan who moved to New York City in 2005 to work in contemporary art. I have a deep connection to the state. My mom says she planned my conception so I would be born on Texas Independence Day or the fall of the Alamo. My family still lives in Houston. I have undergrad degrees in studio art and political science.

People have considered Texas a Republican state at least since Bush years, and I’ve always pointed out that the percentages of Republicans to Democrats has always been about 55 to 45, respectively. Texas isn’t a state like Utah, where it’s 85 to 15. So there are a lot of Democrats, or at least Democratic-leaning people, in Texas. Every major city, for example, has a centrist mayor, yet Texas liberals are demoralized. Texas is 50th in voter turnout for that reason, as well as intense gerrymandering, and other ways of voter suppression.

In Beto, I recognized the kind of Texan that I know well—diligent, optimistic, principled, gracious, big-hearted, straightforward, and not scared or fear-mongering. I could think of more adjectives.

I was on the texting team and endured name-calling—"libtard," "communist," "moron." But the volunteer managers were extremely clear to treat everyone with graciousness, and just to say thank you and move on “like Beto does himself.” That graciousness and respect for others was inherent to the him and the campaign. It even gave me a template for how to talk to my Trump-supporting mom.

I wanted to fight for the Texas that I know, and not the cartoon version that everyone else knows. According to the Washington Post, if you were born in Texas, you were more likely to vote for Beto, and if you were not born in Texas, you were more likely to vote for Cruz, which rings true. Beto and I are also close in age. We both have young kids. We both have a kind of punk-rock background—although I was never in a band.

I sent so many text messages for his texting team that I got carpal tunnel again. I also made some calls and hosted my own phone bank. One person I was talking to via text asked me why so many people out of the state were supporting Beto. That's one thing a lot of people don't understand—there is a humongous diaspora of Texans. Almost all of my friends from Houston all moved to Los Angeles or New York City. I’m sure non-Texans are giving from out of state, but almost every volunteer I met here in New York was a native.

The night of the 2016 presidential election, after it was clear that Trump had won, I said that we'd all gotten complacent. I vowed to be far more politically active then, and I’ve done just that. I also volunteered for Cynthia Nixon and Moms Demand [Action for Gun Sense in America], and I’m involved with an arts-based prison-diversion program called Young New Yorkers. I’m starting a giving circle, too, with Future Now. I also have a young son, and I vowed that when I have to explain school shootings and climate change to him, I need to be accountable to him, to show that I’ve worked to create a better world for him. I will never, ever, ever again in my life not volunteer in an election.

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This Is How Coke, Ecstasy, and Meth Would Be Legally Sold

This article originally appeared on VICE UK.

Class A stimulants are, once again, having a moment. More people are taking cocaine and MDMA in Britain now than they have in a decade. Both substances are cited by the 2017/18 Crime Survey for England and Wales as the driver behind the 17 percent year-on-year growth in the use of Class As by adults of all ages, and the more than 35 percent increase in their use by 16 to 24-year-olds in the last six years.

Given that cocaine purity is the greatest it’s been for a decade and prices have stayed stable, its draw is hardly surprising, and it remains the most popular illegal stimulant. The surge in use has, however, been linked to more harmful things than just all-nighters, embarrassing chats, and misplaced bravado. Cocaine-related hospital admissions and deaths are on the rise.

But what would happen if powder cocaine, crack, MDMA, crystal meth, and speed were legalized? Would their use be safer?

Steve Rolles, senior policy analyst for the Transform Drug Policy Foundation, believes so. He's been working on the world's first book to provide common-sense guidelines on regulating stimulants (he previously wrote one about regulating cannabis that was used by the governments of Canada and Uruguay to inform their regulation policies). We had a chat to find out how things would work in reality.

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VICE: Legalizing cannabis is one thing, but legalizing stimulants is another thing entirely, right?
Steve Rolles: Different drugs are associated with different risks, and the whole idea of regulation is to manage and reduce risk, so the regulatory tools you'd deploy are going to vary. Within stimulants, there's an enormous array of products and risks, so you'd have various models to regulate price, potency, packaging, vendors, and marketing, but the principles and goals are the same.

Where would you be able to buy them?
I hesitate to generalize on that because you wouldn’t sell cocaine and injectable amphetamines in the same way. At the most restrictive end of the scale—for example, methamphetamine and injectable stimulants—you’d have a prescription drug set-up, a bit like prescribed methadone. For cocaine and MDMA, you'd have something more like a pharmacy. It would be a retail model, but it'd be a strictly regulated one with a trained medical professional as the gatekeeper, who’d have to abide by a set of rules in terms of age controls, not selling to people who are intoxicated, and selling in rationed quantities so you couldn’t just buy a kilo of cocaine.

Cocaine, MDMA, and lower potency stimulants such as dexamphetamine, could also be available at licensed premises like pubs or coffee shops, where members buy things to consume on site. Lower potency stimulants would also be bought from licensed retailers, like an off-license. For things like coca tea and caffeine-based energy drinks such as Red Bull, you don’t really need any controls; they could be sold in supermarkets, as some are now.

What about crack? Would that be legal? If not, wouldn’t people just make it anyway?
If cocaine powder is available, crack is effectively available anyway because you could make it yourself fairly quickly. But it’s something you’d want to discourage, so we wouldn’t suggest retailing it. The person selling the powder could give advice on harm minimization and you certainly wouldn’t criminalize users either.

And crystal meth, legalize that?
Methamphetamine is not that different to regular amphetamines that have been used for decades on the party scene. The difference with methamphetamine is that it's longer lasting, more potent per milligram, and easier to smoke. It’s been demonized in a way that doesn’t reflect its pharmacology. In terms of regulating, you wouldn’t sell injectable methamphetamine, but you might sell slow release, oral, pill-form preparations in a pharmacy. What you want to do is move people toward the safer preparations of drugs.

Will legal coke be a downer because everyone loves snorting it in bathrooms? Will it remove the ritualistic use and attraction of these drugs?
I understand that for some people the score is quite a thrill. The culture would change if you got coke that looked more like a pharmaceutical drug, but that’s got to be a good thing because that’s exactly what it is. We can be romantic and nostalgic about the good old days when we used to buy crappy coke that was cut with Nesquik from some suspect character, but really, I don’t think anyone is going to shed too many tears for that loss.

Will legal speed mean the purity is upped and it’ll be cool again?
It could happen. With speed, you might be better off with a slow release oral product like a pill that would give you the buzz over a longer time. That does mean, though, that you don’t have the initial rush you get like when you take it in powder form.

Who’d profit from sales?
It’d move into the conventional domain of legal business. There’d be profits for producers, suppliers and retailers, as with any other outlet, and the government would profit from tax revenue. It’s worth pointing out that things like cocaine, methamphetamine, and amphetamines are already legal drugs in the medical field. There’s no mystery about how those things are used in the clinical sphere, and the wider market would just be an extension of that.

What will happen to prices? Will it be cheaper to buy coke than it is now?
We’ve suggested the price of something like cocaine be at or near the current illegal market price. You don’t want to change the price dramatically or rapidly. If it halved, you might get a spike in levels of use, as people buy twice as much—or, if you whack the price up, people would not bother with the legal supply and stick with their existing dealers.

How would you knock out the underground economy and would it have any impact on crime?
People would progressively migrate from illegal supply to legal supply. We can reasonably aspire that 80 to 90 percent of the market would move into the legal domain, and at that point the illegal market would contract by that sort of amount. The illegal trade currently provides significant revenue for organized crime and is a driver of offending, extortion, and corruption in the UK and around the world. Our policy decisions that we make here have negative ripples internationally, through West Africa, the Caribbean, Mexico, Colombia, and Peru, where it's fueled violence and instability for decades. If we took that away, we’d see a concurrent reduction in crime; we’d be disempowering a lot of often very unpleasant organized crime groups.

Deaths caused by cocaine and amphetamines are rising. Wouldn’t legalizing just make things worse?
Legalization would allow you to know what you’re taking because you’d have a regulated product that would say on the packaging how strong it is, what’s in it, clear health advice and dosage guidelines. We’ve had a long problem of drugs being cut with nasty things or being mis-sold, and now a problem with drugs being stronger than people expect. You might want a pill that has 100mg of MDMA in it; now, you get pills with 250mg or 300mg, and if you’re coming from a culture of double dropping weaker pills, you're getting into potentially high-risk territory where people start dying. At the moment, you can buy a packet of paracetamol and it’s got more information on it than you get from a rack of coke bought on a street corner or in a dark sweaty club. Knowledge is power.

Death and exploitation are features of the cocaine supply chain. Is there any point in legal coke without fair trade coke?
Cocaine is a deeply unethical product because of the nature of its production: It’s environmentally destructive, fuels crime, conflict, and instability while empowering organized criminals. However, to blame users for all those bad things is a distraction from the fact that it’s the policy makers who are ultimately responsible. We don’t have a choice to buy fair trade cocaine now, but we could if it was a legal product. You could have production with fair trade principles, organic certification; it’d be the same as fair trade bananas. But it has to be legal to do that. You can’t do it when Pablo Escobar et al are controlling the market.

Do you think that culturally we’re capable of managing the responsibility of these things when alcohol, which is legal, is already a problem?
We’ve got a responsibility to deal with reality, and the reality is that thousands of young people are using illegal stimulants now. It’s abundantly clear that the risks people face from drugs are hugely increased by illegal supply, and if regulation can reduce some of the risks and address them then that is the responsible course. Alcohol isn't a class A drug and it's been marketed directly to children through sponsorship of professional sports. What we don’t want is to repeat that kind of stupidity. You make these things functionally available in a way that meets demand but doesn’t promote use. Then you redirect the money made into risk education and giving young people cool stuff to do so they’re not that interested in doing drugs in the first place.

Research is identifying the therapeutic benefits of some stimulants, especially MDMA, for treating conditions such as PTSD. Would legalization make research easier?
A lot of stimulants are already legal medicines, but it’s difficult to do research with MDMA because it’s a schedule 1 drug and requires a Home Office license. The research that is going on is promising for trauma therapy. If it was rescheduled and the stigma around it reduced, then certainly that would facilitate research and its potential be realized. I really hope the book will help support reform around stimulants, which is the next logical step in the public debate. It's going to be a harder one to have because the scaremongering and entrenched attitudes around stimulants are much more intense than even cannabis, but we have to start somewhere.

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Zac Efron as Serial Killer Ted Bundy Is Disturbingly Hot

Young zaddy Zac Efron dropped a photo of himself on Thursday showing off his new lewk as notorious serial killer Ted Bundy, whom he's playing in the biopic Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile.

Troy Bolton is dead. Ted Bundy is here. And it's creepy as hell. But also....sexy??


For all you non murderinos out there, here's a little background: In the 70s, infamous serial killer Ted Bundy terrorized Oregon, Colorado, Florida, and four other states with a spree of rapes and assaults on countless women. He confessed to the gruesome murder of least 30 women (and some children), though it's believed his body count could be much higher. Bundy, often referred to as the "Lady Killer" and Campus Killer"many of his victims were college-agedused his good looks, charismatic personality, and manipulative tactics to prey on victims, whether that meant pretending to be a police officer to gain their trust or wearing fake casts and crutches to elicit sympathy. He once called himself "the most cold-hearted son of a bitch you'll ever meet," and given his history of necrophilia, along with his penchant for decapitating, eating, and mutilating his victims—well, yeah, that checks out. Ted Bundy was a babe, and completely fucking evil.


Efron is taking the film to Sundance, which kicks off January 24. The movie, directed by Joe Berlinger, revolves around Bundy's life and homicidal years, told from the perspective of his girlfriend Elizabeth Koepfler (played by Lily Collins), whom he was dating while slaughtering and terrorizing woman after woman. She was a single mother to a little girl at the time, hoping to find a partner to build a family with. A lot about this story is fucked up.

But somehow, it gets even darker. Bundy would go on to marry Carole Ann Boone, who was his co-worker at the Washington State Department of Emergency Services, who also allegedly helped him escape prison in 1977. He literally proposed to her in the courtroom. While he was on trial. For murder. This is a lot.

After he was convicted, Ted Bundy was executed at Florida State Prison in 1989 at age 42. Zac Efron as Ted Bundy, however, is very much alive, and very, very hot. See y'all in hell, where I'll be pruning in Satan's jacuzzi.

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This Video of Trump Singing 'Thank U, Next' Is Truly Cursed

According to Ariana Grande, the music video for "Thank U, Next" is finally dropping on Friday. But while we all eagerly await the sure-to-be epic, star-studded homage to rom-coms from the early 2000s, an exquisite (and extremely cursed) video is making the rounds online to, uh, tide us over.

In YouTuber Maestro Ziikos’s new parody video, Donald Trump "covers" the single—or at least Ziikos makes it look like he does, using cobbled together footage from the president's many, many, many rallies and press conferences. It's impressive stuff, with real words uttered by DJT autotuned to Grande's catchy melody. Can you even fathom how many hours this dude must have spent listening to Trump in order to somehow get him to utter, "One taught me love / one taught me patience / and one taught me pain / now I'm so amazing?"

Anyway, "Trump U, Next"™ really has to be seen to be believed, so check it out below:

Now that we've all been sufficiently traumatized, can we please just have the real music video? Thank u, next!

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I Did a Whole Exercise Class Just to Talk to Ivan Drago, the Rocky Supervillain

This article originally appeared on VICE UK.

(If you have not yet seen the 1985 film Rocky IV, but you have seen the 1976, 1979 and 1982 films Rocky, Rocky II and Rocky III and you’re wondering what happens to Apollo Creed—the antagonist-turned-wise-elder-statesmen, a film analogue for Muhammad Ali, who last time we saw him was happy and healthy and retired and sprinting brilliantly down an ultra-bright Miami beach before putting in a mouthguard and challenging Rocky for one last rematch, ding ding—and you just have not found the time yet to watch Rocky IV, but you remain hopeful nonetheless for Apollo’s fortunes going into this film—which, again, was realized 33 entire years ago—then I suggest you stop reading here, and also I have some bad news for you)

Ivan Drago killed Apollo Creed and I still fucking hate him for it. Ivan Drago—who Hollywood tries to tell us is just this goliath blonde actor Dolph Lundgren; but no, he's not, he’s Ivan Drago living under a false name after he murdered Apollo Creed—does not deserve a single second of rest for what remains of his putrid life.

In 1985's Rocky IV, a documentary about American-Russian relations in the midst of the Cold War, Drago just straight up murders Apollo Creed during an exhibition fight (*1), and nobody does anything about this. He does not face any consequences for his actions. In fact, he is given another shot at murder, when Rocky travels to Russia to fight him on Christmas Day (Rocky IV is a Christmas movie, change my mind), but somehow overwhelms a man six inches taller than him and on steroids by just getting punched in the head for 15 straight rounds, and at the end Rocky, wrapped in an American flag and beat all to shit, howls "IF I CAN CHANGE, YOUSE CAN CHANGE" into a feedbacked mic, and the whole of Russia rises to its feet and applauds.

As you can tell, I have some feelings about the films Rocky, Rocky II, Rocky III, Rocky IV, Rocky Balboa, Creed, and this week’s new release, Creed II. The overriding feeling is: They are the most important films ever made. Rocky was a sweet Oscar-winner where a gold-hearted down-on-his-luck goofball with an iron left goes toe-to-toe with the reigning champion of the world while simultaneously taking the glasses off a pet shop worker and falling in love with her. Rocky II sees him go to the depths before dragging to the highs: After an eye injury rules him out of a further boxing career, he gets a job in a factory and starts a family, and then—and I still can’t really figure out how because I’ve seen the movie about 15 times and it’s never made especially clear—he just fucking ignores his eye injury and fights anyway. Rocky III: death, racism, horniness. Rocky IV: as discussed. Rocky V: didn’t happen, never existed. Rocky Balboa: the descent of a champion into the sad musty role of an underwhelming dad. Creed: Soundcloud remix of the first film that somehow manages to be as good as the original. Creed II: Creed II is if Rocky II and Rocky IV had a baby but actually cared about that baby instead of just calling it "Robert" a lot and never teaching it boxing. In it, Ivan Drago is back, disgraced and training his monstrously hench boy to fight the son of the man he killed, and I am still scared of him.

To confront this fear, I have taken an exercise class in the basement of London’s fanciest hotel. This is because, as part of the endless Creed II junket, Ivan Drago is going to turn up for the last five minutes of the class for whatever reason. During the class I am dying out of my ass because I’ve been trying to keep up with fitness influencers in a "fun and punchy" ten-round HIIT session that I genuinely fear might make me puke. I don’t know what the plan is because I can’t currently breathe. I am completely, and not even alluringly, soaked in sweat. If Ivan Drago turns up now and does a tough Russian chuckle at me—"He is weak," Ivan Drago will say, pointing me out to the rest of the class, who are all guys with 200k Instagram followers who can barely mangle their arms into shape to take a graceful selfie because they are so overwhelmingly ripped, "he does not have the coördination to do mountain climbers. Kill him—" he says, and then he beckons his on-screen son, 6’4” Romanian murdering machine Florian Munteanu, who just runs up to me like a horse primed for battle and kills me dead with one punch, me jolting on the floor Apollo-style, and I— listen, I lost my train of thought because Ivan Drago is too late to berate me, so instead we finish up doing some yoga stretches (even they hurt! It is definitely time I got in the gym again!) and go next door for a Q&A.

If you've never seen a Hollywood person up close, here is some insight from someone who has: bright teeth, perfect skin, more hair follicles than you can imagine, clad head-to-toe in luxuriously branded clothing you’ve never even heard of, let alone could own—it’s quite interesting seeing a human being who can look like that. Florian comes to the table with a shave and shape-up so fresh I assume there's someone waiting behind the door to razor his beard edges. Drago has forearms knotted with firm veins like the roots of a perfect tree: dozens of veins, hundreds of veins, veins made hard and robust through years of lifting iron bars high over his head. I genuinely feel like one of Ivan Drago’s arm veins is stronger than, like, my entire fucking body. I am in awe.

And I want to say: Rocky and the adjacent Rocky films were my favorite movies growing up. Rocky I through IV are the VHS tapes that warped and spun and defined my childhood entirely. Rocky V not so much. Then Balboa came out when I was an adult and it was OK, I guess; it was good to know Rocky was still out there, alive, and then there was a gap and Creed came out and you fell in love with it all again: the boxing, the training, the quiet flutter of a til-you-die romance, the perfect physical specimens having cute dates at low-down Philadelphia dives, the busted father-son dynamics, the men giving stiff thumbs up to each other through distant windows, the children sprinting behind the Champion! Of! The! World!, the villains, the boxing scenes, the breathless moments when Rocky gets knocked down and you don’t know whether he’s going to get up—surely he’ll get up, he has to, that blood-rush sound as the camera tilts and he spins woozy on the canvas—and then the crowd rushes back and yes, yes, single glove on the top rope, beat the count, Rocky has made it, Rocky has won. That Drago was the scariest villain in movie history, to me, scarier than Darth Vader, scarier than the melted faces in Raiders of the Lost Ark, scarier than Hook. Sample line of Drago dialogue from Rocky IV: [just a monstrous dinosaur sound of pain and exertion]. Sample line of Drago dialogue from Rocky IV: [sneering so hard you can hear the muscles in his neck crack like horrid knuckles].

And then, in this room, surrounded by influencers asking Dolph Lundgren what workouts he likes to do, I'm suddenly not too pressed to ask my question—"THERE HAVE BEEN EIGHT ROCKY MOVIES WITH IV AS THE BEST AND V AS THE WORST, WHERE DO THE OTHER SIX ROCKY MOVIES INCLUDING CREED II, IN YOUR OPINION RANK?"—because it sort of doesn't matter. Asking what Rocky means in a wider sense is entirely moot. If you love the Rocky movies—a bafflingly long franchise about a blue-collar Italian American, who keeps getting punched in the face and is completely un-mean unless he’s in the ring, where he’s the baddest motherfucker alive, which somehow is widely relatable, even to pathetic British softies like me—it sort of doesn’t matter where Ivan Drago thinks Creed II ranks in the all-time list (it's sixth). Rocky is personal to you. He is what you make of him.

Anyway, we all line up for photos. Most people opt for the face-off or the boxing glove growl, but I have something more specific in mind. Sample line of Drago dialogue when I ask the actor who played him, Dolph Lundgren, whether we can pose for a photo like the glove-touch in Rocky IV, where Drago—iron, immoveable—holds his monstrous hands for Creed to ding, the first moment of fear creeping up on Creed’s face as he knows he might be in for a fight, me trying to recreate that moment by contorting my face into a sort of cartoon of shock: "Is this acting? Is that your acting?"

Here's the photo. I took a whole exercise class for this. I confronted the man who comprised all my childhood fears. I looked like a large warm mess.

three tall boys
(Photo via Warner Bros.)

(*1) Which, by the way, the referee of the fight was entirely culpable for—Drago slammed an unguarded Creed three times after the first round bell, an instant D/Q—and the fact that Rocky didn't throw the towel in to stop the fight (as if a towel would stop that monster anyway! He threw the referee off him and continued to punch Apollo in the face. What would a towel do?) has haunted Rocky in the intervening years since—see the remainder of Rocky IV, moments in V and every time he’s talked to a gravestone about it (Balboa, Creed, Creed II). Like, Rocky is fundamentally haunted by the fact that his indecisive act of towel-unthrowing led to the direct death of his best friend (Paulie is not Rocky’s best friend: Paulie is a horrible man), and his life has unspooled ever since. I think it’s high-time we have a Rocky movie—maybe in Creed III, which Warner Bros. would do well to let me write entirely—where the referee seeks Rocky out and tells him that it wasn’t his fault, and holds him tenderly in that way men hold each other in masculine-smelling films. Slowly Rocky stops saying "no" and "ahh, no y—" and then he realizes actually, yes, the referee was right, he was responsible, and he starts blubbing, Rocky just full on crying against the heaving chest of this ancient referee, it wasn’t your fault Rock, it wasn’t your fault.

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