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In Colombia, Lawmakers Debate Making Ecstasy Legal

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Photo courtesy of Echela Cabeza

Beats fill the lofty space inside the Latina Power club on a Friday night in the Chapinero neighborhood of Colombia’s capital. A kaleidoscope of images project onto a screen as Bogotá’s partyers stream in from out of the cold rain.

A towering, six-foot-high photo of a young woman stepping out of a doorway with a beckoning and intrepid look hangs by one end of the bar.  Printed alongside her on the heavy plastic poster: “Come out of the psychoactive closet.”

That catchy phrase—concocted by a drug safety advocacy group called Echele Cabeza—encourages users of ecstasy and other synthetic drugs to open up about their party habits and to investigate the safety of the drugs they are taking, something the group hopes will make partying in Bogotá a more enlightened and less dangerous activity.

Colombia has long been a world leader in the production of drugs—namely cocaine. But only recently has it had to confront that it has become a country of increasing drug consumption as well. And that, drug experts say, isn’t particular to Colombia. Drug consumption across the globe is on the rise, said Daniel Mejía, Director of the Center for Research on Security and Drugs at Bogotá’s University of the Andes.

Following that trend, a new drug bill, put forth by the Ministry of Justice, proposes to regulate (not ban) the personal consumption of ecstasy and other synthetic drugs. The possibility pleases drug users, satisfies many drug experts, and alarms some politicians here.

“That would send the wrong signal to our youth,” Efraín Cepeda, a senator and head of Colombia’s Conservative party told me. Earlier, he said to local reporters that for Colombia to allow for synthetic drug use would be a “leap in the dark.”

But Colombia already has some experience with the decriminalization of drugs.

For years, a 1994 law allowed for personal amounts of marijuana and cocaine. In the 2000s, under the administration of hardline ex-president Alvaro Uribe, Colombia started to take a more repressive approach to drug use and, in 2009, penalized the possession and use of cocaine and marijuana.

But last June, the country’s Constitutional Court reverted to decriminalize their personal use—and this time, extended the ruling to also include synthetic drugs.

Which ones? That’s exactly what the government bill is trying to define and put into law. If the law passes, it would allow for a personal dose of ecstasy (200 mg or 3 pills) and other amphetamines, but it excludes methamphetamines and LSD.

The government says it’s modernizing its drug policies to take into account what drugs are being used today.

Few know better than Echele Cabeza—to the milligram, actually. From party to concert to rave, Echele Cabeza  brings a mobile laboratory that can tell drug consumers if the sample of the substance of their choice actually contains what it’s been sold to them as. Users can break off a sample of, for example, ecstasy and the lab can detect if they’ve bought a fake pill or not. “If it has MDMA [the principal amphetamine in ecstasy], what am I going to tell you? Don’t consume it with alcohol,” said Sergio Daniel, 28, a sociologist and volunteer with Echele Cabeza. “If it doesn’t, what do I say to you? I’m sorry but I don’t know what it has  - take it responsibly.”

The collective is part of Acción Técnica Social, the only non-profit in the country dedicated to reducing the risks of consuming psychoactive drugs. One of their slogans says it all: More Pleasure, Less Bad Trips. Most of its members were party kids when the electronic music scene and its associated drugs surged here in the mid-1990s.

Its president, Julian Quintero, 35, with a mop of curly hair and a tattoo running down his arm that reads “Nice people take drugs,” remembers how before it became popularized, ecstasy was considered an exclusive drug—only the elite could afford its price tag (about $15 a pop at the time, which was expensive in this still-developing country) or access it via friends who brought it back from their travels in the US or Europe.

By the mid-2000s, the quality of ecstasy pills had dropped and so too had its popularity. LSD started filling the void. By the end of the decade, both LSD and ecstasy climbed lock-and-step in popularity

“Then what happened last year?” Quintero said. “LSD sucked.”  Not only that, the quality of ecstasy jumped back. “The good quality of ecstasy in last year replaced the drop in quality of LSD,” he said. So much so that the high quality of today’s ecstasy has drawn him, and others his age to use it again.

Echele Cabeza’s lab has been recording extraordinarily high concentrations of MDMA in ecstasy pills – some pills they’re coming across have the content of essentially two ecstasy pills in one. “It’s way too good,” said Quintero. “It has double the sensation, but it also can produce double the crisis [of coming-down].”

Quintero has observed that ecstasy’s high quality over the last year has bumped its consumption somewhat. But some politicians fear that its consumption will surge if Colombia passes into law a personal dose of ecstasy.

“It will increase consumption,” feared Gilma Jiménez, a senator who opposes the bill. “It will hand over our kids into the underworld so that they become addicts and drug-traffickers.”

But Augusto Pérez, a psychologist who works with drug addicts and the director of the Nuevos Rumbos Corporation, an NGO that studies and consults on drug policy, says such an attitude is alarmist and unfounded. Ecstasy itself doesn’t have addictive qualities and he says Colombians shouldn’t expect consumption of a drug to spike if its decriminalized -  there was no long-lasting surge in cocaine and marijuana use following its decriminalization here, said Perez.

Essentially, ecstasy is only one of many drugs (often in a comparable price range) on offer in Bogotá. “Here, you have a party scene that few other cities in Latin America have,” Quintero pointed out. “Here you can consume the drugs you want at a low cost and high quality.”

The government expects to send its bill to Congress for a vote in July. A recent poll by a radio station found that 67 percent of those surveyed were against the depenalization of ecstasy and other synthetics.

“Why are they [politicians against it] pulling their hair out… and creating such a scandal because of depenalizing a substance like ecstasy?” said Perez. Especially, he noted, when personal use of cocaine, a far more dangerous and addictive substance in his view, has already been decriminalized—and to no significant effect on consumption levels.

It’s not as though Colombia has an ecstasy consumption crisis on its hands: a study of university students last year found that under one percent of students had used it last year, and its popularity lagged behind that of marijuana, cocaine, LSD, and inhalants.

So why are some politicians rattling about adding ecstasy to the basket of drugs permitted at a personal dose?  

“Because it’s new,” said one ecstasy user who wanted to remain anonymous. “People don’t understand the reality.” Though ecstasy has been around for years, its use is not widespread and the scene itself is relatively small, associated with electronic parties, skaters, the arts scene and those who can afford it at $12 – $17 a pop.  Furthermore, people tend to seek it out not for regular use, but a particular experience at weekend dance parties, pointed out Joana Arevalo, an activist and defender of the rights of psychoactive drug users (and one herself).

Most politicians opposed to the ecstasy allowance aren’t alarmed by the regulation of synthetic drugs per se, but are against allowing for a personal consumption of drugs in general.

“The key is to focus on policies that address the harms of problematic consumption,”—the kind related to addiction, criminal acts, and disease—said Mejía, who sits on a commission formed by the government to make proposals on how to advance the country’s drug policies

The proposed government bill’s tough stance on drug-trafficking while at the same time calling for less repressive approaches to consumption reflects a major shift in perspective towards looking at drug consumption as an issue of public health, and not a criminal one. Drug experts hail the approach of focusing on prevention and treatment, rather than sending consumers to jail.

With the bill, “We are drawing the line between the criminal and the consumer,” Minister of Justice Ruth Stella Correa announced.

No matter what, there are always going to be people who party with drugs, so there should be a focus on reducing the risks they might encounter while doing so, says Echele Cabeza.

“Now, there are a lot more substances, more pirated ones, more people in search of them, but more than anything, there’s a lot more sellers of everything,” said Daniel. So, informing the polyconsumer which drugs are bad to combine with each other is part of Echele Cabeza’s strategy. The mobile lab is vital too, says Daniel, in that it can warn users if they’ve been sold substances different than from what they were told by a dealer. And if they notice a pattern that in a certain part of town, or a certain dealer, is selling false drugs, they can send out an alert of sorts to users.

It’s not about stopping the party, said Daniel. They just want to make the party safe.

More ecstasy news:

The Dutch Love Ecstasy So Much Their Dirt Is Toxic

I Used My Stock Market Millions to Throw Raves and Sell Drugs

These Rappers Hate Ecstasy


Comics: Nick Gazin's Comic Book Love-In #89

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Dear Comic Lovers,



My name is Nicholas Gazin, and I love comics. Approximately once a week I write a column in which I cover comics, art, illustration, and nerd interest and review some books. My last two columns for VICE were photo blogs about art shows. Sorry. This one's about comics again. Here are some things of interest.




Vasili Loren 




Check out this hilarious series of Tweets between Johnny Ryan and Sir Mix-A-Lot.





Check out this Batman carseat that hugs your kids.


This Wild Grape candy packaging is so beautiful to me.






Check out this old illustration about urban loneliness.




Look at this cool old kinescope thing.






Think this great sketchbook drawing by Doctor P Maru.





Look at this pretty Jack Kirby button.







Look at these great old press cards from San Diego Comic Con.




Gary Panter drew a great multi-page comic for Red Bull about his own life and activities. Check it out.


I have a poster in this charity art show that Nike is putting on. I am kinda surprised, but it's happening

Anyway here are the reviews.

Strip Show

Wartella

Burger Records Books

Burger Records has entered the world of book publishing with this 12"-by-12" hardcover that celebrates the career of M. Wartella. There's a photo I took in the back of the book of King Tuff, so I got a free copy. If you're a punky comics guy, it's hard not to appreciate. Here's a little Q n' A I did with Wartella. 

VICE: What are the things that you've done that Vice's readers might know you from?
M. Wartella:
Well, back in the early days of VICE we did that scratch-off cover. When the issue came out, VICE threw a party with Ol Dirty Bastard and it was pretty trippy to look around and see all these freaks sitting around with pocket change scratching off the covers. I think if you have an un-scratched copy it's worth some dough.

How'd you get involved with Burger Records?
My friend Bobby Harlow, he's a record producer from Detroit, we go way back and he's the official "Burger Guru". We just started doing t-shirts and stuff and it built from there. They are amazing guys. Totally smart and totally cool. I'm currently designing a 7" sleeve for them for the upcoming BURGER Singles Club™.

Is Wartella your real name?
Of course! Pen names are for pussies. Real names are punk!

Why is your book so expensive? That's not punk.
It's pricey because it's a limited edition first pressing, but don't worry, those copies all sold out in an hour, and we're printing up a cheaper version for stores!

What comics did you love at various points in your life? Do you remember the first comic book you ever saw and/or owned?
Well, MAD was my first love. Then one fateful day at a B.Dalton or some other mall-crap bookstore, I stumbled onto a copy of Crumb's HEAD COMIX and Groening's SCHOOL IS HELL. My life and psyche have never been the same!

What are your favorite things to draw?
Mindscapes

Tell me about your Village Voice strips. I liked how lively those were. They seemed very Will Elder influenced.
Well, Elder is the master. But the VOICE strips were also inspired by M.C.Escher and the old Puck artists. Ya gotta plan 'em out like a puzzle so that all the characters fit together seamlessly.

How old are you?
Shit... I can't remember anymore! I'm 30-something... If you read my STRIP SHOW book I think you can piece it together.

Get it here

Lose #5

Deforge

Koyama

Man, Michael Deforge has one hell of a work ethic. The new Lose is mostly taken up with a story about a young boy who has a crush on a girl he doesn't know very well while taking for granted a girl that clearly likes him. We see him regurgitate information he's fed by the girl he's friends with to cool kids and by the time it seems like he might have realized that he was a jerk it's too late. There are also talking animals and bizarre fake science and body horror because it's a Deforge comic and he is all about things being gross. 

Get it here

Very Casual 

Michael Deforge

Koyama

This is another Michael Deforge book. The other comic I reviewed was his most recent work and this book is a collection of his least recent work. This book  collects his Spotting Deer comic and other stuff most of which was published in anthology and mini comics. Two were originally published on the Vice site. Did I get a mention? No. Fuck Michael Deforge. 

The comics in this book range in quality but they are all slathered in in heaping doses of shame, regret, self loathing and heavy stealing from David Cronenberg movies, From Beyond and other body horror films, like most of his work. Not Deforge's best stuff but better than most people's early work collection books. If you dig behing disgusted this is where it's at. 

Get it here

Mere

CF

Picturebox

This is a collection of CF's zines from 2012 which collect crudely beautiful drawings of stuff, comics that are artsy and some photos. Everything is printed in black ink on differently colored paper. It's great. Everything CF has made up to this point is great. I have yet to dislike a singly thing I have seen from CF. A respected comics guy who I thought was trying too hard made fun of CF claiming that CF was trying too hard "with that haircut." I guess that's the world of art though, a bunch of disconnected assholes accusing each other of being phoneys. I don't care what CF is like as a person. His drawings are beautiful and they hit me on an immediate level. I assume most artists are awful people. 

Get it here.

Larry Clark Stuff

Editedby Larry Clark and Johan Kugelberg

Boo-Hooray

This is a catalog of the Larry Clark Stuff show at the Boo-Hooray Gallery in Lower Manhattan. It's a llittle digest sized book that was limited to 330 copies. It turns out that Larry Clark's stuff is mostly T-shirts made by FUCT and other skateboard companies as well as some actual skateboards. Not bad. 

Get it here

 

Everything Takes Forever

Jesse Reklaw

Koyama Press

Jesse draws in a way that's informed and pleasant. His pen and ink wash style kind of feels like the soft shapes of Travis Millard and the loose lines and watercolor of  Barry Blitt mixed together.

Although his drawings are nice his comics aren't all that much. One has a guy with a big taco for a head try to order a taco at a restaurant and gets indignant when the taco vendor seems confused. Then he eats the taco. Most of the comics in this book are kinda like that as far as story development goes.

I see Jesse doing what a lot of young cartoonists do which is coming up with ideas but not stories. People will present what is more of a first act than a story and then they think they are done.

Get it here

See you next time!

@NicholasGazin


Previously - Nick Gazin's Comic Love-In #88

The Sixth Day of Fire, Tear Gas, and Blood in Istanbul

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On the sixth day of the biggest civil uprising Turkey has seen in a decade, police forces retreated from Taksim Square in central Istanbul following a 36-hour battle.

Tens of thousands of protesters spent the whole night resisting an unregulated and brutal assault of tear gas, water cannons, and plastic bullets, which left scores of people injured, traumatised, and hospitalized.

While people were being beaten by police, mainstream media have caused outrage among Turks by neglecting to comment and refusing to broadcast from the streets. Residents who couldn't leave their houses banged saucepans and pots against each other to create a symphony of protest noise.

By and large, people have united in opposition to the way Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan's Justice and Development Party have been treating protesters. Unexpected alliances have formed between people from wildly disparate groups, such as "Devrimci Muslumanlar" (anti-capitalist Muslims), LGBT groups, secularists, right wingers, and the hooligan firms of major football teams. Doctors have volunteered their time and effort to help the injured on the streets and lawyers have come to the aid of those who have been detained.

This afternoon, there were reports that many ISPs have been disconnected, so people have resorted to alternative DNS systems and VPNs to access the internet. At the Besiktas ferry stop, 15 minutes from Taksim Square, police are blocking protesters as they disembark from boats, attacking them with batons and tear gas.

Now that the police have left Taksim Square (tear gassing people as they went), thousands of people remain in Gezi Park waving Turkish flags and chanting "Tayyip Istifa"—meaning "Tayyip Resign"—while #tayyipistifa is trending on Twitter. There are reports that tensions are rising between protesters and pro-government Islamist groups in the nearby neighbourhood of Tophane, where Islamists are said to be attacking people with knives.

Meanwhile, the fighting has spread to the city of Ankara, where protesters in Kizilay Square have been tear gassed from police helicopters. Police violence shows no sign of letting up and there are many injured.

Previously – Istanbul's Taksim Square Has Become a Warzone

Weediquette: Egon the Blunt Getter

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Rembrandt's "The Syndics of the Amsterdam Drapers' Guild," 1662, via Wikimedia Commons

When I was 15, a weed mentor of mine told me over a shwag blunt that there are people in this world who refuse to smoke weed that’s below a certain grade. “If you pass them a blunt, they’ll ask you what kind of weed is in it, and sometimes they even refuse to hit a blunt at all.” I couldn’t believe my ears. To me, the weed you smoked was simply the weed you could get your hands on—whatever availability and budget allowed. I never turned down a hit, and I certainly didn’t have a problem with blunts. I had no idea that I would become precisely the type of snob for which I felt so much scorn.

At some point shwag started to give me a headache, or rather, it always gave me a headache but then I started to mind it. To the disappointment of Malik, the neighborhood shwagman, I switched to the product carried by a nearby hippy, who consistently had tasty weed that I wouldn’t taint with the flavor of a blunt. There, I said it. Blunts are only good to mask the flavor of shitty weed and give it a little nicotine kick. The only other benefit, and thereby the only reason to use blunts for good nugs, is if there are a bunch of people smoking and you want the weed to get around. Blunts are famously slow burning. At the peak of my blunt days, I belonged to a crew of stoner outcasts that managed to consume hordes of blunts in and out of our dorm on the corner of Broad and Diamond in Philly.

We lived in virtual prison cells on the 7th floor of a building on the edge of campus, with a steady flow of zombie-like bums and crackheads rattling at the partial fence around it. Adding to the post-apocalyptic vibe was our elevator, a haunted iron maiden that scared us onto the stairs, which then scared us right back into our rooms. With our weed coming from a floormate, the only reason to emerge from the building was to grab a dutch from the gas station across the street, where at least three shootings occurred in our first semester. This hugely undesirable task required only one quester, a role that was decided by nose goes until a new member of the crew entered our midst.

Egon was a fucking lunkhead. We first encountered his doofy ass because fate and the housing board paired him with our integral homeboy Dave. In that first few weeks of freshman year, when everybody exchanged numbers with everybody, casting a wide net and then narrowing it down, clumping up into little unranked cliques, our pristine crew congealed with a dust particle in the mix, and that was Egon. He ignored all the natural cues and forced himself into our circle. None of us, not even the most dickish among us, could shake this kid. And so, during those cold winter days, over the ghoulish murmur of the elevator lurking just feet away, we decided to nominate Egon as the permanent blunt getter. For the first few weeks he obliged us, until one day when I was breaking up weed on my djembe (yeah, college) and I casually gestured for him to exit the room and do his job. He spoke up in his garbled, goony voice, “What do I get out of it?”

It was a valid question, as we had all equally contributed to the weed pile for this blunt, and he had gotten the last several dozen dutches, but nevertheless it infuriated me. None of us even liked Egon, and we had done him the solid of finding him a place in our crew, and now he was questioning that contribution as if he didn’t now how god-awful he was. The nerve! That first time, we avoided a confrontation and sent someone else to get the dutch. And the next time someone else, until suddenly we were back to the pre-Egon method. What didn’t change was Egon’s lameness, bringing down the quotient of our whole crew. A couple of the softies in our group humored him, pitying his lack of other friends and continuing to feed this stray cat with obligatory games of Super Smash Bros. He was still there for every blunt session, and the next time I was hunched over the djembe asking him to go grab the dutch, he opened his fat mouth and uttered those seven words in a half-retarded, garbled whine: “What do I get out of it?”

This time, I couldn’t take it. Egon had thrown off the balance, refusing to comprehend the burden that placed on us, and completely disregarding what we had given him—a purpose. In front of all of us, he spat on that purpose in defense of whatever brittle confidence he had in himself. It all bubbled up inside me and came spewing out all over Egon’s face. “What do you get out of it? What do you get out of it, you fuck? You get to have friends, you worthless sack of shit. You get to pretend that we all fucking like you, and all you have to do is work your dumb ass down to the store and get the blunt right now!”

Yes, I am a monster, but you know what? So are you. There’s a monster inside all of us, and it takes an Egon to make it come out. It takes that pebble in your shoe that jams itself into your heel and your big toe alternatingly, and no matter how many times you take off the shoe, smack it against a wall, inspect your sock, you pop your shoe back on and start walking, and suddenly there it is again—a seemingly minor annoyance that’s somehow fucking your life up so much that you want to scream! AAAAHHHHH FUCK YOU EGON!


I'd love to tell you that after that, Egon took the hint, went down to buy the dutch, and resumed his role, returning order to the system. I wouldn't even mind telling you that he punched me in the face and ran out of the room. No. Egon sat there staring at me blankly while I raged for a few minutes. I finally ran out of steam, I may even have knocked over the djembe, and he was still sitting there just looking at me with some vague expression of fear or anger or maybe nothing at all, just the void of his intellect echoing my wrath back at me. I stared back silently for a minute and then someone else in the room said, "Uhhh... Fuck it. I'll go get the dutch." It wasn't the last time Egon tangled with his position in the crew, but things pretty much went back to nose goes, and I think that means that Egon won. 

Speaking of blunts, check out a rolling contest between me and a rapper called OG Dutchmaster, presented by Taji of Mahal fame. Who do you think won?



@ImYourKid

Previously - Getting Busted in New York

 

Tubesteak: At the World’s Gayest Party – Life Ball 2013

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Photo courtesy of Life Ball

There's something about the classical uniformity of Vienna (or any European city) that makes large groups of people in evening dresses seem perfectly natural. That's why the Life Ball, an annual fundraising spectacle that hopes to eradicate HIV/AIDS by amusing European nobility (and homosexuals) with whatever is hip and cool in the New York gay club scene, doesn't seem so out of the ordinary. Tuxes, gowns, and even the more outlandish costumes fit right in with the landscape of the city.

This isn't your common gala, however. It is, essentially, the world's gayest party. We're talking gayer than Bradley Cooper's underwear drawer. In fact, every year, the Life Ball packs a plane full of singers, drag queens, dancers, club promoters, press, DJs, and various hangers-on from New York nightlife's queerer corners and ships them over to the home of Mozart for the amusement of the Austrians. So that’s where I found myself last weekend.

Before the party, everyone gathered in Vienna's City Hall Square along the "magenta carpet," the world's longest red carpet where patrons paid thousands of Euro to have images of them projected on giant screens all around the square. That it’s a "magenta carpet," is particularly endearing, because it serves both as a nod to an old-school Key West-style campy gayness and as a way of differentiating this from other events and galas. The “magenta carpet” is queering itself.


Photo by Brian Moylan

This year, the theme was “Arabian Nights,” and as you can imagine, there were plenty of costume-store Jasmines and Aladdins, but there were even more people in stunningly rendered original costumes—people with wigs turned into bird cages or wearing giant genie lamps that actually produce smoke when rubbed. There was one man painted blue like a Hindu god (not really Arabian, but whatever) showing off not only his sculpted body, but the genius of whatever makeup artist sprayed him down and then installed a galaxy of crystals on his rippling muscles.

The program began out in the square like the opening ceremony of the Olympics. Dancers swirled around a stage and a giant ark bearing a black ballet dancer playing the sultan was pulled up by about 100 men in costumes right out of a Broadway spectacular. A full orchestra in the pit and opera singers dangling off the pulled conveyance sang at full belt. American Idol loser Adam Lambert emerged dressed as Ali Baba to to perform this year's Life Ball theme and 40 shirtless thieves with fake tattoos scrawled across their bodies served as his backup dancers. There were actually 40. I counted.

After more artistic renderings of a lost Arabia, two hosts took the stage and started speaking in German. They say something about stopping AIDS around the world and then Hilary Swank gave out some awards (speaking in English). Next, Olympic diver Greg Louganis summoned the original “I Dream of Jeannie” actress Barbara Eden out of a genie bottle. For someone in her 70s, she looked damn good in her genie costume. Gary Keszler, the event’s founder, asked Barbara for three wishes and those wishes produced Bill Clinton, Elton John, and Fergie. Behold this crowd on stage, a hodge-podge of nostalgic camp and genuine star wattage. It's sort of like your gay uncle Leon's fever dream. This was capped off with a fashion show by Roberto Cavalli, a man who makes clothes that look like the Technicolor yawn a drunk teen spewed out in front of a Miami bottle-service club. I skipped it and headed inside to the party.


Photo by Brian Moylan

The inside of City Hall looked like every amazing cathedral they force you to visit on high school trips to Europe, but exceptionally festooned in a damask regalia rarely produced at this scale. At the center there was a dance floor built atop a cobblestone-paved courtyard with Red Bull-sponsored bar right in the middle. On the outer rim of the courtyard were two stages of women dressed as Scheherazade frolicking in swings.

Off of this room there was one for the hits of the 70s and 80s and another for "butch and bears." This might have been the the only explicitly gay room.

The VIP section was upstairs, and there was a crush to get up the huge marble staircase. The people running up and down in gowns looked like a deleted scene out of Amadeus. There were a dozen more rooms upstairs each boasting its own set of DJs and performers, each an architectural marvel where, for the night, several thousands Austrians would drink and smoke as much as they like. On Monday morning, I'm sure half of the rooms return to hosting nothing but filing cabinets and a few desks, robbed entirely of the fairy dust that seems to have been sprinkled over the entire building this evening.

In one room famous transsexual Amanda Lepore sang some of her songs. In another, gay porn star Pierre Fitch (who showed everyone his cock and asshole on the plane ride over) was DJing. In yet another perpetual club kid Susanne Bartsch hosted drag chanteuse Joey Arias.

In the main VIP room, after the sit-down dinner was cleared a group of 40 or so voguers (I didn't actually count them) took to the main stage for one of their balls, a scene familiar to anyone who has seen documentary Paris Is Burning. Except this ball was judged by Fergie, Adam Lambert, Kelly Osbourne, choreographer Fatima Robinson, and gay twin fashion designers Dean and Dan Caten. Each voguer took his or her turn on stage, pirouetting and working their arms with the jerky fluidity that is the signature of the genre. They spin and spiral, drop and shoot back up into the air, and one even did a hand stand on the judges table, much to their amusement.

Through each of the categories (they weren't just competing in vogue but "butch queen face" and "sex siren") everyone on stage was enraptured, but the Austrians in the audience stared on with an aloof confusion. They know they are supposed to be attuned to the spectacle, but there is no way for them to understand it. It is foreign even to me, a fellow New York homosexual, so how can these straight, blond Europeans understand black and Latino drag culture?


Photo courtest of Life Ball

I don't know if they can, and a sinking feeling about the whole event consume me. Is this some sort of minstrel show? Have all the gay New Yorkers been brought here for our otherness, to put on acts and perform for the rich white people who are buying tickets to the event. Nowhere was this more apparent than in the vogue ball where the dancers weren't being judged by their peers, but literally by a bunch of wealthy Caucasians (Ms. Robinson excluded).

That's when I finally realized how strange it was that the crowd at the party was overwhelmingly mixed with the majority of patrons leaning to bland heterosexuality. I don't know if that is how it was 21 years ago when Life Ball started, but, like everything else cool and gay, this seems to have been totally taken over by the straights, just as Madonna did to vogueing in the 90s.

These people weren't just watching the drag queens and gay boys (and, don't get me wrong, there were still plenty of circuit queens in attendance) but they had become them. The costumes were over the top and the women painted to look garish like their drag sisters. Most of the men were in the standard issue West Hollywood Halloween costumes, some sort of slutty shirtlessness to show off their gym-bodies and their ingenuity. They weren't trying to exploit us, they were trying to be us and their imitation was truly the highest form of flattery.


Photo courtesy of Life Ball

Feeling bold (and looking dapper in my tux) I approached several of these men on the dance floor, getting up close and trying to make some magic happen, and in every instance a biological female quickly appeared to whisk her man away with a smile. At the end of the night, exhausted after dancing with new friends until nearly 5 AM, I sidled up to a gorgeous blond man wearing nothing but a pair of harem pants and a turban. Boldly I rubbed my hand along a taut bicep. He leaned in for what I thought was going to be a kiss, but instead, he talked into my ear over the dance music. "Sorry," he said in accented English. "I'm not gay, but I really like gay people." He smiled and we kept dancing with me.

That was sort of the ethos of the party, a bunch of straight people who really like gays. And what is so wrong with that? We don't need them all to make out with us; we just need them to accept us. The Life Ball seemed to go a step beyond acceptance into full-on celebration. It was a night for everyone to be gay, for everyone to enjoy the campy and the crazy, for everyone to spend way too much on an outfit, dance to all hours, and be sexually adventurous like gays have been doing better and for longer than any other group. This party was held in a government building. It was a sanctioned practice that has the backing of every part of society without any moaning or groaning from the right. Imagine what would happen if a gay circuit party happened in a government building here? It would lead every show on Fox News for the next 17 years.

The party raised tons of cash to fight AIDS, and did it by throwing the best party any of these people have ever been to, by making it the gayest party in the world. Even without the money, the city's transformation into a gay paradise seems like another kind of victory.

@BrianJMoylan

More Great Gay Stuff:

Gay-Proofing the Bible

I Went to the Last Gay Catholic Mass at the UK's Church of Our Lady of Assumption

Posing as a Gay Republican Will Get You Laid



 

Comics: Pussy Willy - Part 2

Do We Really Need a National Chain of Pot Stores?

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Image via

Jamen Shively is high on cannabis legalization.

For someone who only lit up for the first time ever last year, Shively, a former Microsoft manager, sure has mastered all the heady pro-pot talking points. He likens the growth of green legalization, recently spurred by Washington State and Colorado voting to legalize small amounts of cannabis for recreational use, to the crumbling of the Berlin Wall. When the Seattle Times asked him if he's at all worried about the Feds shuttering his plans to open up a national chain of pot shops, he waxed Jedi: "Darth," Shively began, cribbing Obi-Wan Kenobi, "if you strike me down, I will become more powerful than you can possibly imagine." 

You might be cringing. But there's no way around it: when you're a business person looking to capture a massive slice of a potentially massive pie, you have to talk the talk, winking and nodding as if you've been there all along. You have to siddle up, in this case, to a crowd that is maybe quite wary of some of the ripples starting to emanate from proverbial Big Pot. Medical pot users and stoners alike just loOooOve Star Wars, or something. Right? So does Jamen. He is one of you! And together—you, the affluent baby-boomer user to whom Shively's proposed chain would expressly target and cater—you'll forever change the arc of history, bong in hand. 

This is the reality of the "get rich or high trying" phenomenon. But here's the thing. Not only have OG NorCal growers and strain connoisseurs long foretold (however sketchily) the coming age of a Starbucks of Pot, wherein deep-pocketed suits and squares swoop in, wiping out a rich history of mom 'n pop bud shops in the name of shilling mediocre product masked as the real deal. (Think Marlboro Greens.) Shively's plan, if he can pull it off (see: unlikely), stands to do far more harm than good to America's number-one cash crop.

Why? Shively's brand, called Diego Pellicer, would broker some sort of transnational trade arrangement with Mexico—where, presumably, cultivation of some of the No. 1 Trusted Brand of American Pot would be outsourced. Indeed, Vicente Fox, Mexico's former President, recently appeared next to Shively at a press conference.

Read the rest over at Motherboard.VICE.com.

Question of the Day: What Do You Think About Critiquing Naked Women on TV?

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Blachman's male panel judges a naked woman's body. Image via

Last month saw the premiere of Blachman, a new Danish TV show where a panel of men judge the bodies of naked women. That's literally the whole show—no big statements about trying to challenge the notion of objectifying women by openly objectifying women (or however a fine-art graduate would justify a project of the same nature), just some men saying what they like and don't like about the bodies of naked women.

Lots of people think the show is sexist, so I had a walk around London to see if the strangers I ran into agreed.   

Clavey from Brazil, 37, trainee manager: It's exciting, but sexist. Women should already like their bodies. They shouldn’t wait for men to like their bodies. As a woman, I don’t feel comfortable with the idea.

Why not?
Well, if I was to go on the show, I feel like it would be showing too many of my intimate parts. And I don’t have a very big ego.

Would it be OK if the roles were reversed and women critiqued naked men on TV?
No, I think it's the same.

You're from Brazil. Would the show be popular there?
No, I don't think so. We have women in bikinis on TV all day long. It's completely normal for us to see a lot of butts and bodies.

Hannes from Germany, 23, student: It's not OK. It's sexist.

What do you think the limit of nudity on TV should be?
Everything but the genitalia for men. It's OK for women to be in bikinis.

So would the show be OK if the women were in bikinis?
Yeah, as long as it doesn’t run during the day, when kids watch TV.

The director claimed that women "thirst for men’s opinions." What do you think of that?
I don't agree with that. If I met a girl, I’d like to know more about her mind than her body. I think the women who go on the show are anomalies.

Would the show would be a hit in Germany?
Yes, because a lot of people enjoy seeing nude women.

But not nude men?
No.

All right then.

Tony, 41, works with young offenders: It's an utterly pointless show.

Could you imagine the show being a hit in the UK?
I hope it wouldn’t be. I would have no reason to watch a show like that—it sounds horrific.

The director claims that the women ”thirst for men’s opinions” about their bodies. Do you agree?
Of course that's not true. It's a director trying to make money and put on a show for himself. He’s not interested in the value of these women. He's not looking to move people or make statements. They’re just standing there. It's almost like a stagnant porn movie, isn't it? How long could you watch that for? A naked woman is a naked woman.

One of the contestants claimed that she got something out of the show, like fan mail and marriage proposals.
Well, you could get fans and proposals in the street, you know? You don’t have to take your clothes off.

True.

Juliette, 26, event manager: I think it’s really bad, basically. And it objectifies women, which so much media and TV does already. So I’m against it.

Would you be interested in seeing the roles reversed on TV?
Yeah, actually. I think it would be interesting to see the reverse side. And if there are women doing it now on TV, then I think the same thing needs to be done with men.

Do you agree with the show’s director, who claims that women "thirst" for men’s approval?
I do, but only because society has made some women feel like they need men's approval. There are women who don’t, but unfortunately I still think there are a lot of women who do. Only because men controlling the media have encouraged that.

Do you think men "thirst" for women’s approval?
I guess they do, in a way. But not to the same degree.

Felix, 20, model: I think it's retarded. Completely sexist and degrading.

One of the contestants claimed that she got fan mail and marriage proposals. Do you think anything good can come out of the show?
No. It's a business, and people will do anything to make money. But the government has to stop these kind of shows because they’re stupid.

If the roles were reversed, would the show OK?
It wouldn’t be better, no. But it would probably be more accepted because sexism is mostly about women.

Would you watch it either way?
No.

The director claims that women "thirst"for men’s approval" of their bodies. Do you agree?
In general, women don’t have the best self-esteem. Maybe that’s why they’d like to be on this show—to be complimented.

So you don't think there will be any hot girls on the show?
No, there definitely would be. But even hot girls don’t have the best self-esteem.

Do good-looking guys suffer from self-esteem issues, too?
Oh yeah, definitely. And not just because of the media—it could be anything that dents their self-esteem.

Previously - Do You Have Anything Incriminating on Your Phone or Computer?


Turkey's Weekend of Street War, Jubilation, and Bulldozer Joyrides

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Photos by Nazim Serhat Firat and Ali Güracar

"There is now a menace, which is called Twitter," Turkey's Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan declared on Turkish television on Sunday. "The best examples of lies can be found there. To me, social media is the worst menace to society."

Made in one of two speeches given to Turkish TV yesterday, it is a statement that characterises the social unrest in Turkey as much as it seems to validate it. While mainstream Turkish media has largely tried to ignore the tens of thousands of protesters on the streets of Istanbul, Twitter has offered them a way to organize themselves and publicize their cause. What began as a peaceful protest about the destruction of a park to make way for a shopping center has turned into a broader expression of Turkish discontent. Many sections of society are angry at what they see as a concerted attempt by Erdogan to transform the democracy he is charged with maintaining into an Islamist dictatorship. A combination of gentrification, government corruption, and hints of a crackdown on personal freedoms, such as drinking alcohol and kissing in public, has provoked the biggest social uprising in Turkey for a decade.

And let's not forget the media blackout—a lack of press freedom tends to be a decent sign that a country's top-ranking officials are getting a little too power hungry.


Protesters clash with police in Ankara.

During the weekend, protests spread to more than half of Turkey's 81 provinces. Most notable were those in the capital, Ankara, where violent clashes between riot police and demonstrators resulted in more than 700 injuries, and in Istanbul, where the number of wounded has reached 1,000. You can only guess those figures are rising as we speak, while officials have announced that more than 1,700 arrests have been made.


Beşiktaş fans joyride a digger through Istanbul.

On Sunday evening, fans of the city's Beşiktaş football team commandeered a digger and drove it at riot police, and those who didn't feel up to joining the struggle in the streets hung out of windows, adding to the din that has engulfed parts of the country by banging on pots and pans.

VICE currently has a number of reporters and filmmakers in Turkey. We called one of them on Sunday to make sure they hadn't suffocated in tear gas plumes and to get their perspective on the latest from the ground. There's also a selection of images from the weekend's events in the gallery above.

VICE: Have things calmed down or are they getting more violent?
VICE Reporter: Things have calmed down in Taksim Square for sure. Protesters have built barricades all around the park, so it’s very hard for police vans or bulldozers to enter. But since 9:30 PM tonight. clashes between police and protesters have gone off in Beşiktaş and it’s been brutal. They’ve been using tear gas and other gas which has made people vomit. It has been alleged that it is Agent Orange, but I can’t confirm or deny that.

Have you encountered many injured people?
When you walk on the streets here every five minutes you’ll see someone who has an injury, be it a bruise or someone suffocating from tear gas. There are six makeshift clinics at Taksim, staffed with volunteering doctors and medical students because police aren’t letting ambulances through. There were 500 people needing treatment in the medical center I was in yesterday; these people can’t get to hospitals. On Friday one protester was in front of a hospital and she saw 40 ambulances taking people in—at that point the official numbers of people who had been injured was less than 40. So I can’t confirm injuries, but obviously a lot more people are injured than the media is reporting. At least where I am right now, Gaviscon, which is used to help the effects of tear gas, is sold out.

I’ve heard some reports that police have destroyed benches and billboards to make it seem like protesters did it. Have you seen that?
There are a ton of rumors floating around about all sorts of things. The first night we were here people were screaming about young people being killed openly on the streets by police, which is still unconfirmed. Then yesterday there was a lot of talk about Turkish Greenpeace confirming that Agent Orange gas had been used against protesters, but again I think that was just a rumor. I’m not saying it can be ruled out, but it’s hard to confirm. It is possible that police have gone into crowds intentionally causing a ruckus, but it could also have been football hooligans or anarchists. We actually spent time yesterday with a group of protesters who’ve spent the entire time gathering all the rumors and then trying to fact-check them.


Anti-Erdogan protesters gather in Istanbul on Saturday night.

What kind of demographic are you mainly seeing?
Mainly young people, because we are mainly out filming the action in the evening, but the moving thing about this protest, and what a lot of Turkish people have been talking about, is that all types of people are protesting and chanting side by side. There are Turkish nationalists next to Muslim anti-capitalists and even Kurds. For Turkey this is very special. Added to that you see women in head scarves, football hooligans, and anarchists. Everyone is out on the streets because they found that this absolutely brutal clampdown on a peaceful protest is unfair, and they’ve joined forces to say, “No, this is enough.” So it’s a difficult question to answer—there are lots of people.

Do the protesters seem to have a common ideology?
Of course, like in any protest, you see socialist flags and anarchist flags, but as I said before this is clearly not a protest with specific political agenda. Above all, this is a protest about human rights, freedom of speech, and democracy. Everything began with a small protest to protect the Gezi Park from being demolished to make way for a shopping mall. An MP from the Kurdish Peace and Democracy Party, Sırrı Süreyya Önder, stood in front of the bulldozers and told them it was illegal to demolish the trees in Gezi Park without permission. He was shot by police with a tear-gas canister and hospitalized. People are angry because this is one of the last green areas in this part of Istanbul and because it’s historically an important symbol of civil resistance, but also the gentrification of this area is something people have been angry about for a while now. Mainly, though, the more brutal the police are, the angrier people are becoming.

Are the protesters aligning themselves with the main opposition party in Turkey?
People are trying to take over the protest for their own ideological purposes, but there are many different groups out there. I can’t emphasize enough how many different groups of people there are. You have hipsters next to nationalists next to Muslim anticapitalists next to families next to anarchists. It’s about people standing up to brutality and saying they will have their voices heard. I can't believe I've seen Kurds and Turkish nationalists protest party together.


An man receives treatment for wounds at one of Istanbul's makeshift hospitals.

Have there been any pro-government groups or Islamists trying to attack the protest groups?
Yes, there have been pro-AKP people fighting alongside police against protesters in Istanbul and other cities. These people are very pro-AKP so you can safely say that they’re Islamists. There aren’t a lot of them, though.

Are there any demands, slogans, or chants that are common to most protesters?
I’ve heard “From shoulder to shoulder against fascism,” “Police take your gas masks off and we’ll see who the real man is” and "Don't stop expressing yourself, if you do you'll be the next one (brutalized)."

What are the state-friendly news stations broadcasting over there?
This is something that every person we interviewed talks about: they want to know if we’re Turkish or international media. There’s very little coverage. We were interviewing people in a hotel and on the news there were happy images of farmers and their cattle while outside it looked like a warzone. People on the street feel that this isn’t being adequately reported on. People are booing at Turkish media vans. Erdoğan keeps infuriating people with his TV appearances while Turkish media is very quiet about the protests.

Follow Matt on Twitter: @Matt_A_Shea

More on Turkey:

Turkey Almost Lost Its Internet 

Occupiers Faced Down Cops in Istanbul's Taksim Square  

The Meth-Fueled, Weeklong Orgies Ravaging London's Gay Sex-Party Scene

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Tim, who used to organize "slamming" parties until he got out of the scene a couple of years ago.

Weeklong, unprotected orgies fueled by intravenous doses of crystal methamphetamine are an increasing feature of London's gay sex-party scene.

The orgies—or "slamming parties," as they've been dubbed ("slamming" is a euphemism for "injecting")—are known to a small but rapidly expanding section of London's gay community. They are covertly organized over social networking sites like Grindr and Bareback Real Time.

However, that's not to say they're particularly exclusive. As long as you're gay, don't mind potentially exposing yourself to a host of STDs, and can get into the idea of taking Viagra and injecting crystal meth (and sometimes mephedrone) for several days straight, you're welcome to swing through the revolving doors and join the party.

The various slamming get-togethers are pretty fluid affairs, taking place over several days and in several venues, from darkened private homes and West End saunas to dingy apartments and suburban mansions. There are constants, however—the nonstop porn being streamed on massive projector screens, the cascading synth lines of shitty Euro trance, and the glow of guests twiddling with their iPhones as they attempt to get hold of more drugs and bodies to invite along.   

“This new scene of bare-backing and injecting is pushing the limits of what’s socially acceptable,” says Tim, a 39-year-old web publisher who hosted and attended slamming parties for two years before giving it up. “Injecting crystal meth makes you incredibly horny and willing to do anything. People turn into animals when they come up on it. It’s basically a blizzard of sucking and fucking.”

Yes, the scene might sound a bit like the more hedonistic, cosmopolitan equivalent of dogging, less Micras, more Mosley madness—Dogging: A Love Story reimagined by William S. Burroughs and Tinto Brass. But, given the sharing of needles and lack of condoms, the repercussions that come from these blizzards of sucking and fucking are arguably much more grim than what you're left with after a stolen encounter in a Stevenage lay-by.

Specialist drug services are witnessing a rise in gay men addicted to injecting crystal meth and, more worryingly, a jump in gay drug users who are testing positive for HIV.

Someone injecting meth at a slamming party.

According to David Stuart, director of Antidote—London's only dedicated LGBT-specific drug-and-alcohol support service—the number of crystal meth and mephedrone users injecting the drugs in a sexual context leapt from 20 percent in 2011 to 80 percent in 2012. Seventy percent of those injecting are reportedly sharing needles. "It's a staggering and frightening increase," Stuart told me.

And, of course, what makes these slamming parties unique is the slamming itself. Injecting meth (or "Tina," as it's commonly referred to in the gay community) provides a far more intense, longer, and therefore cheaper hit than smoking it, ramping up your libido and stripping inhibitions. It's turned London's already pretty athletic gay sex-party scene into an extreme sport, with revellers apparently averaging up to five sexual partners a session.  

“The one thing I want to do on crystal is to get fucked by the biggest dick,” says Tim, whose teeth have rotted away due to a combination of being HIV positive and many years of injecting and smoking meth. “I was known as a total party bottom," he continued.

Some slamming parties are more extreme than others, with those at the harder end of the scale usually involving hardcore S&M, whipping, and bondage. And if two people want to indulge in something others might not be comfortable with—like fisting or scat, for example—then they carry on the party elsewhere.

“People are often awake for days with no food or water, just fizzy drinks and Dunns River Nurishment [a nutritional milk supplement]," Tim told me. "But the stupid thing is that no one can ever come, because crystal meth stops you from coming—as does Viagra—so it's just never-ending sex. It’s painful. Most people end up with no skin on their dicks and some end up in hospital because of panic attacks brought on by too much crystal,” he continued.

Tim says that, although he was one of the first to organize slamming and sex parties, the scene has become more widespread in the last couple of years. And many of the people now involved in bareback slamming are reportedly well-heeled professionals, despite the extreme nature of their drug use.

“There are those who pay for the drugs in order to attract parties. And, at the other end of the scale, there are people who are invited to parties because they're well hung and can get an erection on crystal with or without Viagra,” Tim told me, before recounting one of the parties he held a few years ago. “People came down from Manchester one time and there were about 12 guys coming in and out of my house. I remember my dark, sweaty living room with half a dozen men having sex with each other. Everyone else was checking out the internet for people in the area or squabbling over which porn stream to watch.”

Tim says the golden rules to holding these kind of parties are to hide your keys and your drugs, and to lock your doors, “otherwise your drugs will be gone and you'll have guests freaking out in the street.”


A rock of crystal meth. Image via

Victor—a 23-year-old Romanian who moved to London four years ago—has just finished treatment for crystal meth addiction after being involved with the slamming party scene.

“I had used cocaine and ecstasy before coming to England, but I met a dealer and he introduced me to lots of people. I tried smoking crystal meth and drinking GHB. I had great sex," Victor explained. “The first time I injected Tina was at a party in West London. Everyone was injecting and I tried it and it gave me an even bigger high. It was so incredible. I wanted that high again. I had no inhibitions, I tried new things, I got involved in sex parties. It was crazy.”

Both Tim and Victor know how deadly the slamming scene can be. Both have friends who have ended up in the hospital, died, or committed suicide, either because of the psychological effects of meth addiction or because they had contracted HIV or hepatitis C.

David Stuart told me that around 75 percent of the 800 men being treated at Antidote’s services are HIV positive, with 60 percent failing to adhere to their HIV treatment when under the influence of drugs. “Lots of things are driving [the drug use], including the ease of finding the drugs themselves and the use of internet sites to find sex parties and drug dens where people can carry out this behavior,” he told me.

Stuart said the motives for getting involved in the scene are more complicated than pure hedonism. “Many gay men feel their sex is 'diseased' or sinful—the kind their parents disapprove of. A culture of online hooking up for sex is eradicating the usual process of developing an intimacy of sorts before having sex. Drugs can overcome these problems, too, providing an uninhibited abandon that these men rarely feel.”

Yusef Azad is the director of policy at the National AIDS Trust, which, as an organization, has sent a letter to all London councils calling for action to address the lack of specialist services that address the "recent and rapid rise in the use of crystal meth in the context of high-risk sex."

Speaking to Azad, he explained the circumstances that prompted that letter: “What has changed is the sort of drugs that are used and the context in which they’re used. A lot of drugs are moving from clubbing to private sex parties. Apps like Grindr are facilitating networking among gay men for extended sex sessions on drugs. Everything we are hearing from clubbers and gay men on this scene is that it is prevalent and increasing. Three years ago, this wasn't mentioned at all.”

For both Tim and Victor, being involved in such an intense sexual scene has left them unable to have sex without the drugs. “It’s boring,” says Victor. “I can’t get horny without drugs. So for me now, I cannot give up drugs without giving up sex. It’s a been a huge waste and it's ruined my life.”

Max Daly is a journalist and author specializing in social affairs and illegal drugs. He is the co-author of Narcomania: A Journey through Britain's Drug World, published by Random House

Follow Max on Twitter: @narcomania

More stuff about drugs:

Hey Straight People, You're Using Sex Drugs Wrong  

Drugs That Make Me Cry  

I Used My Stock Market Millions to Throw Raves and Sell Drugs 

Dude Sweat Makes Other Dudes Nicer, Bro

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Dude Sweat Makes Other Dudes Nicer, Bro

Public Schoolteachers' Pensions Are Partially Funded by Private Prisons

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Photo via Flickr user Rennett Stowe

Public schools and prisons are becoming increasingly linked—police officers are now a constant presence in many schools, which has led to students getting hassled and arrested by cops for what could be described as normal kid stuff, including performing science experiments on school grounds. There’s even a name for this phenomenon: the school-to-prison pipeline, which takes kids, mostly minority students who live in poverty, out of the classroom and into the legal system, shuffling them into the prison-industrial complex before they’re old enough to vote.

But there’s another, less obvious way schools are tied to prisons. Retirement funds for public school teachers (as well as other government employees) in several states have a combined $90 million invested in Corrections Corporation of America (CCA) and GEO Group, the largest private prison companies in the world. Though individual teachers didn’t decide to make their pensions partially connected to America’s gigantic, often abusive incarceration industry—many of them aren’t aware of all the investments made on their behalf—they are indirectly profiting from mass incarceration, thanks to choices made by their money managers who run public employees’ massive pension funds.

That $90 million figure is an estimate based on publicly-available NASDAQ data for public employee pension funds. Most of the money comes from three big states: California, New York, and Texas. Texas, through its Permanent School Fund and state employee retirement system, has about $13 million invested in CCA and GEO. California and New York, through their retirement funds for public school teachers and other state employees (which includes nonteacher school employees, like janitors and principals), each have about $30 million tied to private prisons.

These investments in the incarceration industry are piddling in comparison to these funds’ overall portfolios—the teacher retirement funds for California (CalSTRS) and New York (NYSTRS) are worth $167 billion and $96 billion, respectively—but they qualify as major shareholders in CCA and GEO Group.

If corporations are people, GEO Group shouldn’t be allowed within 100 feet of a child. In 2000, the company (then known as Wackenhut Corrections Corporation), was indicted by the Department of Justice for running a juvenile detention center in Jena, Louisiana, where boys were routinely beaten by guards. One kid who had to wear a colostomy bag because of a gunshot wound was beaten by a guard for not tucking in his shirt, which he couldn’t do because the bag was in the way.

It didn’t end there. In 2012, GEO was indicted again, this time for running a juvenile prison in Walnut Grove, Mississippi, where kids were frequently raped, beaten, and denied medical attention. The seediest detail might have been that Grady Sims, the 61-year-old warden who was also the former mayor of the town, took a young female inmate to a nearby motel and had sex with her, then later tried to get the girl to lie about it to investigators. He eventually got the sexual-assault charge dismissed and pled guilty to witness tampering. He was sentenced to a whopping six months of house arrest.

Despite this track record, the government is still handing over kids to GEO Group through Abraxas, the private prison conglomerate’s juvenile-detention arm. In addition to running prisons for kids, this subsidiary takes kids who have been expelled from public school and puts them in “alternative” schools, which are supposed to be designed for kids who have behavioral problems but in many cases are home for teens who have been victimized by a system that overreacts when kids act up.

Several teachers I spoke to about their pensions being invested in companies that engage in such morally questionable practices.

“Why?” said Darleen Guien, a retired adult ESL teacher who worked for several years in the LA Unified School District. “[The private prison investment] is just a fraction of the fund. Why do they need that?”

Guien said that due to the size of the teachers’ retirement fund, she assumed it would have a few ethically questionable investments, such as Walmart, but she was disappointed to find out it was making money from private prisons.

“Teachers provide a public service,” she said. “It’s troubling to know that they’re investing in things that are so much against the values many of us have.”

She also felt that teachers have no control over how their retirement fund is invested. “It’s not like we’re shareholders in a company and we vote,” she said. “I don’t think we have any say in anything. All we can do is maybe write a letter.”

Joe Martinez is a principal at Villacorta Elementary in South San Jose Hills, California. Although he wouldn’t comment on the private-prison investments in particular, he seemed to agree with Guien’s sentiments about there not being much that teachers can do about what provides the money for their pensions.

“More transparency could be a start, but even if teachers were given all the information about the investments, I don’t think there’s really much of a way for their voices to be heard, or even if it would make a difference,” he said.

I asked him if it really mattered in the end. After all, private prisons might be despicable entities, but they’re not illegal. In fact, they’re often very profitable companies and hence worth investing in from a purely capitalistic perspective. Is it OK to invest in ethically problematic companies if the profits go to teachers?

“I don’t think there necessarily has to be a choice,” he repilied. “The people who control these funds, which are basically a lot of other people’s money, could just be more conscious of what they’re investing in.”

When I reached out to spokespeople for the teacher-retirement funds of New York and California, both emphasized that the job of these funds is to make money so teachers can enjoy their golden years, and when you manage funds as vast as theirs, you might get into some ethically questionable territory. They also said that the private-prison investments are likely tied to index funds, which means they are part of mutual funds that mimic the ebb and flow of the market as a whole. In other words, no one is really deciding to invest in prisons, they just aren’t deciding not to invest in prisons.

However, a line can be drawn. John Cardello of the NYSTRS said they don’t invest in hedge funds. Everything else is OK, though. “I can’t think of anything else that we consciously stay away from,” Cardello said.

But CalSTRS, which is nearly twice as big as their New York counterpart, has made headlines for distancing itself from controversial corporations. In 2009, they stopped investing in tobacco companies, and shortly after the Newtown massacre, they announced they would divest from gun companies that make assault weapons considered illegal in California.

“There’s a moral component to our investing,” said Ricardo Duran, a spokesman for CalSTRS. He explained that the fund has 21 risk factors that go into deciding what to invest in. Those factors include respect for human rights, civil liberties, and political rights. It also includes racial discrimination.

By those standards, however, how are private prisons not unethical investments? Hopefully, these publicly financed funds will review what they’re making money off of soon and stop investing in companies that profit from America’s worst social problems.

Follow Ray on Twitter: @RayDowns

Previously on prisons and schools:

Who’s Getting Rich off the Prison-Industrial Complex?

Why Are We Arresting So Many Children?

Silent But Deadly

The Tribal Feud Tearing Libya Apart

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At an army checkpoint on the way into the Libyan city of Misrata, an angry police officer with a pistol tucked into his pants demands I give a blood sample before locking me in a trailer. For what should be obvious reasons, this is a deeply paranoid town. When I eventually get into the center of the city, a protest against the Tawergha—a black-skinned tribe that used to live 25 miles away in the neighboring town of the same name—is in full swing. Worked-up young men tell me they're ready to kill if they don’t get what they want.

The demonstrators want to know who I am. They want to know where I’ve come from and they want to know what I think about human rights. "So what do you think of this organization, Human Rights Watch (HRW)?" Hassan, a former English teacher, asks me.

I quietly assure Hassan that I view all human rights organizations as parasitic scum feeding on the aftermath of war and turning it into dirty money to be squirreled away into its employees’ snakeskin pockets. "They turn tragedy into PR stunts," I tell him. "They have to transform victors into villains. That’s how they make their money. It’s sad. It’s perverse. But it’s all they know."

Hassan nods slowly while other anti-Tawerghan protesters crowd around.

"Public opinion matters a great deal to us," he says, seriously. "During the revolution, Misrata withstood great pressures and made great sacrifices. It was a hero, a champion. But now people are starting to say that we are the bad guys. It’s not right."

The acid of toxic loathing that's disfiguring Misrata’s public image is its intense hatred of the Tawergha tribe. It’s one of many tribal feuds that have festered since the revolution, further destabilizing the country at a time when the government is struggling to maintain any semblance of control. The feuds have also helped to ensure that violence, guns, and explosions continue to slosh around the country, staining the reputation of free, postrevolution Libya.

Misrata was smashed to pieces during the revolution. It was besieged for months by Gaddafi troops who hammered it with tanks, artillery, Grad missiles, and mortars. And for many Misratans, the ultimate betrayal came when Tawerghan raiders ripped through the city, raping and pillaging as part of the loyalist army.


Fathi Abubreda shows where he was shot by the Tawerghans.

"This man was kidnapped by the Tawerghans along with his five sons," says Hassan, plucking a man called Fathi Abubreda from the surrounding crowd. "He was held for two days in Tawergha before being transferred to Gaddafi’s notorious Abu Salim prison. He says those two days in Tawergha were worse than spending five months in Abu Salim!"

I watch as the man dutifully takes off his shoes and socks and shows me where he was shot by the Tawerghans: once in each ankle and once in each thigh.

Eventually a series of NATO air strikes turned the tables against the Tawerghans and the rest of Gaddafi’s forces. The rebels advanced and ended up tearing their way through Tawergha, forcing its 35,000 inhabitants to run for their lives before systematically demolishing whole areas of the town.

Since the revolution, the Tawerghans have languished in refugee camps and Misrata has fiercely resisted any suggestion of their return. But keeping large numbers of black people in special camps obviously doesn’t reflect particularly well on an entire city. Month-by-month pressure has increased on the Misratans to allow their shunned neighbors to return, and month by month the Misratans have ratcheted up their resistance.

On April 8, 2012, Human Rights Watch accused Misratans of "crimes against humanity." Three days later, Misrata’s local council replied to HRW, rejecting its "threats and admonitions." On May 8 of this year, a senior prosecutor at the International Criminal Court said her office was looking at the expulsion of the Tawerghans as a possible war crime. And around the same time, Tawerghan leaders announced their intention to return en masse on June 25, marching to the city waving white flags. A couple of days later, Misrata played its trump card: announcing the discovery of a mass grave in Tawergha.

When we arrive at the site of the mass grave it doesn’t feel like the epicenter of a poisonous tribal hatred that’s helping to destabilize an entire country. It feels more like an episode of Diggers, but on a particularly lazy day, when everyone slacks off and just hangs around smoking cigarettes and drinking tea. Men wearing blue overalls and white rubber gloves chat and joke. Occasionally one or two of them climb into a large hole to hack at the ground with various digging tools while a Libyan TV news crew films from the sideline.

According to Adel Al Ruma, the Misratan police captain in charge of the operation, little is clear. The location of the bodies was given to officers by an imprisoned Tawerghan leader who's being held in a military prison in Mistrata. So far they’ve dug up 11 bodies as well as various "remains." None have been identified, but Adel says some weren't buried in line with Islamic rituals and some had tied hands and feet—indicators, he says, that suggest the bodies were the Tawerghans’ prisoners who were killed and buried.

But the Tawerghans I’ve talked to don’t see it like that. The bodies have been dug up from various sites dotted around an existing Tawerghan graveyard, and they say the Misratans are a bunch of racists who are desecrating their graves, digging up their dead, and using their remains as sham evidence to validate their own crimes and disrupt the planned June 25 return.

Standing next to the graveyard, Adel shows me a dusty child’s coat that the team has dug up and a length of rope he says was used to tie up some of the bodies. Then we pick our way through the graveyard, where he points out other possible burial sites. The graves we walk past are low budget with breeze blocks for headstones. Some are painted green, Gaddafi’s favorite color. Others are decorated with AK-47 bullets.

Beyond the graveyard is an empty school and an empty mosque. Adel points out some graffiti that says "Allah and Muammar only." Empty bullet casings, plastic caps for RPGs, and empty boxes of bullets litter the unpaved streets, and rows of empty buildings seem to stretch on for miles.

Leaving Tawergha, we pass another paranoid checkpoint manned by half a dozen tanks and some men dressed in camouflage. I decide to call the former English teacher I met at the protest to try and make sense of the situation, but he serenades me with neurotic conspiracy theories.

Senior politicians are encouraging the Tawerghans to return so that a civil war is started and they can take power, he tells me. He also says he believes Human Rights Watch is being controlled by foreign governments and the Tawerghans are using the mercenary money they earned fighting for Gaddafi to buy influence at Libyan TV stations. This is all, of course, speculation coming from some English teacher.

"There are unknown forces at work," he tells me. "It’s more than two years since the uprising, but our revolution remains mysterious."

Follow Wil on Twitter: @bilgribs

More from Libya:

The Rebels of Libya

Back Behind Bars with Gaddafi's Would-Be Assassin

On the Road with Libya's Lions of the Desert

Dogmageddon: Sacrificing Virgins

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Photo via

Back in the day, if you wanted God to bless your crops and make them grow high to the heavens, you prayed for rain. If that didn't work, you built a temple or maybe slaughtered a goat. And if that didn't work, well, then you just had to make sure the Man upstairs knew you meant business by finding the nearest female virgin and sacrificing her. And then, finally, God would respond by, well, not really doing anything at all, since He doesn't exist. 

But if you thought that kind of virginal sacrifice was long in our rearview, you simply haven't been paying close enough attention. While bloody murders of virgins may be an antiquated activity, as this piece over in the Atlantic points out, killing them mentally is still going on plenty.

The article starts with the story of Elizabeth Smart, the kidnapping victim who was abducted for nine months when she was 14 years old. During those terrible nine months, Smart had chances to escape her captors, but she never acted on them. Among the reasons Smart gives for remaining? Her religious upbringing. 

Growing up a Mormon, there's a high level of importance put on someone's premarital virginity. And if these women don't keep themselves “intact” for the big night, then they start thinking as Smart did: 

“Who could want me now? I felt so dirty and so filthy.”

And that mentality has seeped into our general culture in everything from “slut shaming” to those terrible revenge-porn websites popping up all over the internet. Religion teaches that sex is dirty, that women who partake in it before marriage are whores to be treated like used tissues, that they deserve to be shamed. When, instead, they deserve to be cherished. Because the only difference between virgins and nonvirgins is that wedding-night sex with the latter fucking sucks.

Onto the roundup!

- A new children's book called God Made Dad & Mom tells the story a young boy who prays for his classmate and his two fathers for living a sinful lifestyle. And yes, this thing was endorsed by the American Family Association.

- In Afghanistan, the Taliban killed four police officers during attacks at checkpoints. Also, a suicide bomber blew himself up in a Red Cross building, killing four.

- In Pakistan, gunmen killed a female polio worker and three Shiite Muslims. Also in Pakistan, a US drone strike reportedly killed a Taliban leader. These two events are not unrelated.

- America also used drone strikes in Yemen to kill suspected al Qaeda militants.

- In Myanmar, a mob of Buddhists burned down a whole bunch of Muslim homes, mosques, and schools, leading to at least one death.

- The highest court in El Salvador denied the request of a 22-year-old woman with lupus to get an abortion that will keep her from serious illness or death. Also worth noting, the 26-week-old infant has a birth defect that means it will be born missing part of its brain and skull, if it even survives the full nine months, which is unlikely. And yet, still, her life is of little importance to the court. Now's also a good time to probably link to this map of abortion and birth control rights throughout the world.

- Bryan Fischer, a crazy person with a radio program, suggested that the Boy Scouts of America should change its name to “the Boy Sodomizers of America” after deciding now to allow gay scouts.

- Three women complained last week that TSA screeners groped their private parts during pat downs. And somewhere in hell, Osama bin Laden lets out a sly smile at the news.

- Speaking of al Qaeda, who'd thunk they use memos and expense reports, just like a real business! Guess this is the kind of thing a business with plans on smuggling chemical weapons to places like Europe and the US does to get shit done.

- Plenty will see Minnesota Vikings superstar Adrian Peterson's comment about gay marriage—“I have relatives who are gay. I'm not biased towards them. I still treat them the same. I love 'em. But again, I'm not with that. That's not something I believe in. But to each their own”—as some sort of innocuous statement that we're all going overboard about. Sure, every person should be entitled to an opinion. But the problem is, by even stating this opinion, it's legitimizing the point of view that gay people are not to be treated the same as straight people. Next time, best keep your mouth shut, AP.

- Nigeria passed one butt-fuck of an anti-gay-marriage bill, not only outlawing it, but outlawing any groups supporting gay rights, and doling out ten-year prison sentences for any same-sex couples who publicly show affection. It should also be noted, there are no scientific reasons to oppose gay marriage.

- Ohio State president E. Gordon Gee told a little joke about not being able to trust “those damn Catholics” when talking about Notre Dame University perhaps joining his university's sports conference, and everyone lost their damn mind about it.

- And Our Person of the Week: Michele Bachmann, who announced she'll no longer run for re-election. Now she will be free to spout out her religious-based craziness on Fox News and the like without actually having any actual power of any sort. In other words, the perfect kind of crazy religious fundamentalist. Please, feel free to visit her website and say thank you.

- And Our Bonus, Actual Person of the Week: Kathleen Taylor, a neuroscientist at Oxford University, who's taken a brave and controversial stance by believing that religious fundamentalism might be cured, as long as it's treated as a mental illness. “Someone who has for example become radicalized to a cult ideology—we might stop seeing that as a personal choice that they have chosen as a result of pure free will and may start treating it as some kind of mental disturbance,” she said. This kind of thing could certainly be more effective than simply gassing up drones and bombing the Middle East.

@RickPaulas

Previously: People Who Love God Porn

The Mating Rituals of the Renaissance Pleasure Fair

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Photos by Jennie Ross

The first thing you need to know when you go to a Renaissance fair is that you’re a mundane. The people of the fair don’t give a shit about where you DJ, the art collective you belong to, or how you were recently featured on a blog someone you sorta know writes. If you aren’t wearing a costume, then you are nothing but a mundane, and they'll call you that to your face. Your being a mundane means that some folks are going to talk to you in their old-timey voices and try to convince you to buy grossly sweet honey wine from their booths, but they aren’t going to share their flasks with you, and they certainly are not going to fuck you.

In many ways the fair is an elaborate mating ritual complete with pregaming, peacocking, and corsets. Like at a college costume party or an office holiday party, the moment the booze comes out, inhibitions dissipate, marriages open up, and mistakes are made. But don’t worry, what happens at the fair is between you and your god, and as the cosplaying Puritans like to say, “You are likely damned to hell anyways.”

To find out what kinds of exotic "meates" you can sample, i.e., bang, I went to the Original Reinaissance Pleasure Faire in Irwindale, California, and talked to a few of the fair's fair maidens and gentlemen. (This fair just ended but no doubt there's a fair coming near you in... not too long. That's the great thing about the fake Renaissance—it never ends.)

Sara and Crystal

When I walked up to Sara and Crystal, they were resting in the shade, eating fried cheesecake on a stick. “Everyone is secretly hooking up," Sara told me. "For lack of a better way to put it, and it’s going to sound horrendously dirty, I will say it’s a very incestual group of people. People get to hang a lot looser than they do normally in their lives. It’s not just Renaissance fair, it’s a Renaissance pleasure fair, so you can get away with being a little more lewd than you normally would be.”

Fawn Girls

Katie and Jessica work at a suburban dentist's office, but when the faire comes to town they are transformed into fawns, complete with stiletto hooves. “The first year everyone called me a horny lady and a lot of people point at the fur asking whether or not I shave,” Katie said. All day men had been shouting at them and pulling their tails to the point that they were practically falling off. Meanwhile, they had also acquired a stalker. “It’s a real ego boost,” Jessica said.

The Stalker

Katie and Jessica's stalker didn’t talk, but the voiceless boy had been following the fawns around the moment they stepped through the gate. He never got too close to them—he just kept his creepy distance while silently contorting his face for hours.

Furry Fellow

There's a whole day during the seven-week fair that's dedicated to men showing off their pectoral muscles. It’s called “Jerkin Off Day.” I kid you not. The jerkin is a vest that dudes wore during Elizabethan times that you can now buy online. When it gets super hot out during the fair, guys are allowed to take their jerkins off. But some dudes just can’t wait to show off and thus end up pondering which sandwich to order from a food truck in their furry skivvies and boots.

Gag Spoon Lady

Many couples “open” their relationship up for the Renaissance Pleasure Faire so they can more comfortably swing. I’m not sure if this woman is one of those people though, because instead of talking to me, she kept gagging herself with a wooden spoon.

Hot Mumbling Metal Girl

There is a lot of crossover between metal style and Ren-fair style. I was pretty into this girl’s whole look and tried to get her to hang out with me by telling her what a babe she was, but she talked so quietly I couldn’t hear a word she said.

Bag Boyfriend

Bagman was the boyfriend of the aforementioned hot metal girl. Just when I had given up trying to understand her murmurs, Bagman walked up, fingers wiggling to indicated that he really wanted his photo taken. He seemed pretty rad.

Wheelchair Man

This guy was an explosion of the space-time continuum, and I liked it. Either that or he's Game of Thrones creator George R. R. Martin.

Metal Worker and Friend

If you are mundane, members of the fair who are wearing costumes see you as being “naked,” but that doesn’t mean they won’t call dibs on you. When a member of the fair calls dibs, it means they find the person attractive and are going to do their best to romance them. Some guys even carry buttons that say dibs on them and pin them on ladies who they’d like to have relations with. These guys were out on the prowl, squirting ladies they called dibs on with a water gun.

Me in the Stocks

Everyone at fair will try and convince you to fall in love with faire. And after two or three drinks, a slab of meat the size of your forearm, and their constant stream of kindness and hilarity, they just might succeed. “You have to do fair on your own terms,” one married fair goer told me after I watched him kiss a steady stream of women on the lips, including a very, very old prostitute.

I visited a Ren fair once before, in high school, when my nerdy boyfriend’s mom took us. We were too young to drink or drive, so we got super stoned, jumped into his mom’s minivan and were transported to the “past.” I don’t remember much except getting into a huge fight with my boyfriend over him locking me up in the stocks and throwing water balloons at me. (He bought me a hemp choker with a Celtic bead as an apology.) The experience was enough to put me off returning to a faire for more than a decade. 

By the end of the day, I decided that I needed to drop my leftover teenage angst toward the fair and that the only way to do that would be to face my fears head on. I had to go into the stocks.

The stocks were not the way I remembered them. Either a series of lawsuits had transformed the stocks into loose holes that you could easily escape from, or my memory had been confused by that shitty weed. Now that I was no longer a teenage stoner, I could easily see that it would be impossible to be ”trapped” and bludgeoned with water balloons again. Unless I wanted to be.  

@MaudeChild

For more Ren faire magic:

What the Fuck Is a Renaissance Faire?


Bradley Manning's Trial Starts Today

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On Saturday, nearly 2,000 supporters of Army Private Bradley Manning drove or took the bus from all across the country to march in defense of the soldier on the eve of the first day of his trial for leaking military documents to Wikileaks—including charges of aiding al Qaeda—and could bring Manning a life sentence in jail.

Antiwar activists, veterans, LGBT rights advocates, and journalists were heavily represented within the gathered Manning supporters over the weekend. The march was one of hundreds of rallies in support of the 25-year-old former intelligence analyst from Crescent, Oklahoma, since he was first put in pretrial confinement over three years ago. Some have been coming to Fort Meade near Baltimore off and on since preliminary hearings began there in late 2011; other events were happening this weekend in cities from Seoul to Santa Cruz. 

During the course of the military trial that starts today, army prosecutors will argue that Manning aided al Qaeda by taking sensitive military information and sending it to the antisecrecy website WikiLeaks. Manning started uploading intelligence about the Iraq and Afghan wars to WikiLeaks in 2009, and just a few months later he found himself picked up by authorities at his base outside of Baghdad. Manning has already pled guilty to ten of the 22 charges against him, spending one-fourth of his time since arrest in isolation, but not to the most serious charges, including aiding the enemy, which could land him a life sentence in prison. 

Manning says the leaked intel and the other material he’s been accused of releasing helped bring attention to the horrific atrocities committed by the country he swore to serve. The word whistleblower couldn’t be any more appropriate, activists said at the weekend’s rally, adding that prosecuting Manning potentially means that no journalist will get away with publishing embarrassing info about the government ever again. That threat is just one part of what brings people together to talk about the case.

Hundreds of additional supporters arrived every few minutes at Fort Meade at the start of the rally on Saturday. It was hot. To make matters worse, roads heading to the site were rerouted, and many people had to schlep to the march after abandoning their vehicles illegally in not-so-nearby parking lots. At least two news organizations hauled media gear more than a mile in either direction.

It was just a minor setback, though. Lieutenant Dan Choi, a soldier who faced federal charges for an act of civil disobedience against the military’s Don’t Ask Don’t Tell policy, said during the event that the heat shouldn’t stop people from celebrating a person who's brought so many strangers together in the name of telling the truth.

“We marched from one place on one street for one thing, for one reason,” he said after the mile-long march along Fort Meade’s perimeter fence. Choi and a few others took turns taking the stage that had been set up, sweating through their shirts while speaking passionately about the soldier to the thousands who had shown up, despite the sweltering hike.

“We came here because we want to be treated by our government in the way that our government was supposed to treat the people,” Choi said.

Daniel Ellsberg, the Defense Department worker who leaked the Pentagon Papers in 1971, walked on stage moments later. Ellsberg, 82, explained the power of a community that comes together for someone who, just like himself, has been charged with espionage for trying to help others.

“I’m very happy to be here at what I regard as a family gathering,” Ellsberg said.

Ellsberg explained what it meant to be labeled a traitor for essentially doing the same thing Manning has been charged with; he insisted that his contemporary’s contribution to the cause of whistleblowing is something that should be hailed, not hated.

“There would be tens of thousands of American troops in Iraq right now and many others would have died if Bradley Manning had not revealed atrocities,” he said.

Oddly enough, Ellsberg added, the media in the US has not been not making an effort to discuss this side to the story. “Our country, sad to say, is the country that perpetrated the crimes Bradley Manning exposed. I think other countries have noticed something that not too many Americans have noticed: that Bradley was an extraordinary American who went on record and acted on his awareness.”

Then addressing the supporters, Ellsberg mentioned just a few of the groups who might have good reason to respect Manning, given what he gave to WikiLeaks. “I would say that any group that Bradley Manning can be said to be a part of should be honored to recognize him as their hero,” he said. “Of course gays, of course transgender people. It goes for the people of Oklahoma—there won’t be many there who appreciate him. It goes even for short people. Anybody who can identify with Bradley Manning should be honored,” said Ellsberg. 

Colleagues and I were in the middle of the unanticipated five-mile trek through the blistering heat with fellow marchers between the parking lots and the protest, when a beige sedan slowed beside us. Its driver gestured to get in and offered a ride back to our cars. Our volunteer chauffeur during this four minutes of hard-earned air-conditioned bliss, our chauffeur, was a freelancer contracted by Iranian media. Just as we were, he was baffled by how the military seemed to take every step imaginable to make access to Fort Meade on the day of the protest nearly impossible. Our conversation erupted into a debate about a contested diplomatic dispute between our respective countries, but then things subsided. Everyone was hot and tired, but we were also here for the same reason: to report a story no one else wants to about a guy who can blow a hell of a whistle and attract a diverse combination of supporters to back him up.

As of today, the first day of Manning's trial following over a year of motion hearings, which had been rarely attended by the mainstream press, around 350 news organizations submitted requests for credentials; the court-martial is expected to last through the summer. 

Really, Ryan?: With Friends Like These, Who Needs Casual Acquaintances?

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A few weeks ago, I celebrated the first balmy night of summer by taking a pill and going to see Frances Ha. My memory of the film is admittedly hazy, but I remember thinking at various points, This has all the personality of a dishwater rag and This film is for Greta Gerwig by Greta Gerwig starring Greta Gerwig in collaboration with Greta Gerwig. That being said, there were certain moments of the movie that were so uncomfortably honest I just wanted to put my fingers in my ears and go, “LA LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU SORRY BYE!”

I’m talking here about friendship. Instead of taking the usual indie film narrative of “boy meets girl, girl smiles at boy with her bangs, girl’s bangs get pregnant and start a Cat Power cover band,” Frances Ha centers its story around friendship, or rather how two people can quickly go from best friends forever to best friends never. Just like that. In your 20s, it doesn’t take much. You move neighborhoods. You fall in love. You become a vegan. It’s really that simple. And if you think it won’t happen to you, if you think you and your friend transcend life’s fickle nature, then you are wrong and probably sort of stupid.

***

Growing up, I thought that the definition of “friend” was pretty simple. It meant someone you shared common interests with, could sit with for prolonged moments of silence and not feel weird, and really cared about in an authentic way that wasn’t driven by any ulterior motives. When I entered my 20s and the postcollegiate workplace, however, I was introduced to a variety of different definitions of what it meant to be someone’s friend. Apparently, being a friend now means meeting someone for drinks from 5:00 PM to 6:15 PM, or only seeing someone at night when you go to a party and get drunk and hold hands all night, acting like the best friends you will never be, or maybe being nice to someone who you don’t like but have to keep around for professional reasons, whatever the fuck THAT means. You don’t have to do much to be called someone’s friend these days. Follow them on Twitter. Favorite their tweets. See them for the occasional coffee to keep up appearances. When someone mentions their name to you, you can chime in and say, “Oh, yeah, they’re a good friend of mine,” and the disturbing thing about that is you’ll actually mean it. Maybe it’s because I live in a city like New York where shameless social climbing is both common and acceptable, but I constantly find myself surrounded by people who only care about themselves. Like, if they saw you dying on the side of the road, they would only call an ambulance if you agreed to Follow Friday them on Twitter.

The dissolution of a best friendship, while exquisitely painful and raw and personal, is a reminder of the closeness that can still exist between two people. In Frances Ha, two women are driven apart by romance and geographical distance. The rejection is so intense that it’s hard for Gerwig’s character, Frances, to even vocalize it. I’ve been there. I feel like it’s actually easier to talk and talk and talk to friends who don’t mean that much to you. You go to brunch, you chitchat for four hours, and it feels like you’re performing in the social Olympics. With best friends, though, silence can be the most powerful thing. It can make you realize how much you’ve changed (or haven’t) over the years, and it can drive a wedge between old friends in a way words never could. In the last few years, I’ve watched so many of my friendships dissolve and felt powerless to stop it. I used to try and talk it out with them, but now I don’t say anything because I’ve realized that it doesn’t work that way. If I thought for one second that words could bring someone back to me I’d be filibustering friendship breakups left and right, but instead I just let the silence take over. That’s all you can do. You move on and hope to find someone else who will get it, and you probably will, but in the meantime don’t bother getting lost in a k-hole of meaningless friendships. These days, you’ll end up feeling lonelier at a “catch up” lunch than you will eating by yourself in a crowded restaurant.

In retrospect, losing friends is something I wasn’t really prepared for and that’s probably why it’s so painful. We expect dating to be hard, we expect getting your dream job to be far-fetched, but what we don’t count on is having our friends no longer make sense to us. They were supposed to be the easy part. No one told us that that we would have to worry about this too.

When all is said and done, though, the friendships that survive are the ones that were meant to. And the ones that became casualties of time, well, that’s just the way it’s always been. As long as you’re growing as a person, you’re outgrowing as well. If you expect anything different, you’re going to be in for one hell of a rude awakening.

Previously - Gay Men and Their Not-So-Cute Misogyny Problem

@ryanoconn

Nothing Is Less Funny Than Scientologists Doing Comedy

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All the great men of history have had their escape valves, their private passions. Einstein played the violin. Disraeli wrote romantic novels. Napoleon used to rub two ferrets covered in sulphur together until one of them caught fire. So it is with the head of Narconon International, Scientology’s notorious drug-rehabiliation wing.

His name is Clark Carr, and when he isn’t fooling around with e-meters, he's part of Laughworks, which claims to be a comedy group of some kind and also features the woman who used to voice Cubbi in Gummi Bears.

The guys and gals in Laughworks have been taking their laugh-an-hour routines around the Scientology world for the last decade, but of late they’ve gone quiet. Clark in particular has been busy defending his organization from charges that it routinely took out credit cards in the names of people it was supposed to be helping. All that changed last Tuesday, when Stand Up for Valley Org took to the stage in LA. As the name suggests, it was an entire evening of Scientologyl comedy devoted to raising money for the San Fernando Valley Scientologists' plan to build an Ideal Org, which is a deluxe kind of church. 

Scientology comedy means no swearing and no sexual references, just a bunch of high-ranking Scientologists standing in a hall trying to tickle your funny bone. Happily for them, the San Fernando Valley Scientologists had a trump card: the voice of Bart Simpson, Nancy Cartwright. Plus the mediocre standup Elvis Winterbottom, the downright awful comedy songster Evan Wecksell, and, of course, Laughworks.

Laughworks isn't just not funny; the sketches are so unfunny that they achieve a kind of power in their unfunniness. They deliver what addicts would call a moment of clarity—moments when you can see not only the futility of your own choices, but the futility of your personal universe, and you resolve to change yourself at an atomic level. They continue performing, and recording and sharing, their "comedy" when most people would have quit many times over. It's sort of awe-inspiring, but also awful to watch. 

How unfunny are they?

This unfunny:

It's as if aliens with no conception of how human humor works had decided to mimic Saturday Night Live. Like aliens, the participants have a kind of emotional impermeability to them. The motivations of both the characters and the performers are totally mysterious, which makes it fascinating to watch, but also completely unwatchable. There’s just nothing human inside to feast on. Not a morsel of self-doubt, no flickering pilot light of human engagement. They load the program. They execute the program. Program executed.

What else is in the Laughworks repertoire?

Well, there is a sketch about their witness-protection program:

It seems that along with curse words and nudity, punchlines have been banned by the church's authorities. But skits that remind people of the most common media tactic for interviewing cult survivors are perfectly OK.

Also OK by the church, but not OK with anyone else, is this:

Clark Carr is a tall bald man you can see in this picture from way back in the day. It features Clark telling an addict that he has a scientific method that will liberate him from his drug prison.

His sketches are less funny than that:

If comedy is the ratcheting up of a superficially logical paradigm toward a counterintuitive end, then this is certainly comedy.

If comedy is funny, then this isn’t that.

Unfortunately even Laughworks’ pièce de résistance is stranded in similar territory. It strives to blow your mind, but instead lands in that awkward and very underpopulated place midway between Jean-Paul Sartre and Larry the Cable Guy:

“Any resemblance with the human condition is purely coincidental.” The audience of Scientologists knows that pseudo-profound zinger only too well. Note the knowing chuckle they offer: not so much laughter as collective affirmation that they’ve cracked it, that they've figured out what the really big secret to it all is, buddy. They know how to escape the box, thanks to the teachings of Hubbard, and I guess... that's... humor? To them? Maybe?

Follow Gavin on Twitter: @hurtgavinhaynes

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Turkey Is Waging an Invisible War Against Its Dissidents

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A wall of Greek riot police. Photo by Henry Langston 

For the past week, we’ve been watching scenes of mayhem unfold in the streets of Istanbul, Ankara, and other cities in Turkey. What started as a local initiative to stop a central Istanbul park being turned into a shopping center became a civilian street war against the rising authoritarianism of Prime Minister Tayyip Erdoğan's government.

As if to cement everything the protesters were already angry about, Erdoğan sent police in to quite literally crack skulls and fire tear gas and pepper spray at the mostly peaceful crowd. But alongside the highly visible violence, an invisible war is taking place on those from Turkey who dare to stand up and speak out against the government.


Bulut Yayla

The story starts not in Turkey, but in downtown Athens, from where Turkish asylum seeker Bulut Yayla disappeared last Thursday. According to eyewitnesses, at around 9:30 PM Yayla was immobilized, beaten, and pushed into a car on Solomou Street in the neighborhood of Exarcheia. When support groups and lawyers looked up the car’s registration plate, the owner turned out to be none other than a member of the Greek police.

Shockingly, the Greek police force itself denies any knowledge of the incident. Yayla, a political activist who has been arrested and tortured in Turkey in the past, has been trying to apply for political refugee asylum in Greece for some time now. But given Greece's famous bureaucracy, it probably won't surprise you that Yayla hasn't had much luck.

When he resurfaced after his kidnapping, Yayla was no longer in Athens, he was in Istanbul, being held by the Turkish counterterrorism police. Since then, he has informed Greek support groups of what happened after his abduction. With a hood over his head, he was passed between three different groups of people, crossed the border to Turkey (under what he said felt like a wire fence in the middle of the night) and eventually found himself in Istanbul.

The Greek police, of course, continue to deny any knowledge of the incident and claim that the car allegedly used in Yayla's abduction was retired from official use. But new reports of collusion between the Greek and Turkish governments over capturing dissidents makes those claims look unlikely.


A suicide bombing at the US Embassy in Ankara, Turkey. 

In the past few months, there have been reports in the Turkish media of police and government officials meeting with the explicit intention of cracking down on Kurdish and radical leftists. Those coming under the most scrutiny are members of the banned Marxist group Revolutionary People's Liberation Party-Front (DHKP-C), who Erdoğan blames for the bombing of the US embassy in Ankara last February. Yayla, a Kurd, was a member of the DHKP-C, which might explain the drastic measures taken to capture him and return him to the Turkish authorities.

For his participation within the DHKP-C, Yayla had already been detained and tortured by the Turkish police, before seeking asylum in Greece to escape Turkey’s infamous "white cells"—the maximum-security prisons where solitary confinement and sensory deprivation are used to torture inmates. According to the IPS news agency, Greek police chief Nikos Papagiannopoulos and his Turkish colleague met on February 4 and agreed that Greece would help Erdoğan’s government in its pursuit of activists like Yayla.

The deal was finalized a month later, with lucrative arrangements on both sides and promises of cooperation and investments in various areas—health, tourism, and immigration being just a few—in a meeting between Greek Prime Minister Antonis Samaras and Tayyip Erdoğan.

As IPS notes, “That same day, the Ankara Strategic Institution pointed out that private Turkish investment in Greece has been used as a pressure tool in order to promote the deal on extradition. More reports followed, referring to preparations for extraditions, but the Greek government is yet to respond to any of them.”

Ioanna Kourtovik, a lawyer who took interest in Yayla's case from the outset, told me, “There is nothing we can do through legal means from Greece. It was an illegal abduction and the Turkish side is trying to make it look like they arrested him in Turkey, while the Greek police deny having any knowledge of his existence. But as the Council for Refugees points out, Ayala had contacted the proper authorities and he was trying to apply for asylum, so they knew who he was and where he was. His lawyers will file a lawsuit against any responsible parties, which might implicate the Greek police if it turns out they had anything to do with the case.”

Besides constituting a gross violation of human rights, Yayla's extraction would potentially be in violation of the Geneva Convention. And this kind of thing isn't anything new—both Greece and Turkey are beginning to witness their governments' increasing hunger for the detention and torture of activists, coupled with extreme violence against protesters. It's a worrying trend we've seen play out over the past couple of years in Greece, and something that's becoming more apparent with the recent unfolding of events in Turkey. 


A raid on an Istanbul DHKP-C safehouse in January this year. 

A "zero tolerance" dogma is firmly in play in both countries, which roughly translates to "it's now totally fine for us to kidnap people who piss us off"—surely a terrifying prospect for activists exercising their basic human right to protest. In both countries, counterterrorism laws are already absolutely brutal. And while those laws have been used many times in Greece for stuff like setting up and prosecuting kids for the heinous offence of carrying a stick during a protest, prospects are even worse in Turkey. Suspects have been known to be held in detention for up to two years without charge, and confessions extracted through torture are admissible in court.

Both governments now subscribe to the kind of law and order that has seen Greece's police force turn into a private army in tensions over the Skouries gold mine, and Turkey's hyperviolent officers attacking citizens over the opening of a shopping mall in Istanbul. But human rights apparently mean little to Samaras and Erdoğan, as long as there are lucrative business deals to be struck. They‘re both selling off their respective countries bit by bit, with little accountability and surrounded by governments steeped in corruption.

As blood is washed off the marble stones of Taksim Square, as activists are illegally abducted from one country to face trial in the other, and as the act of voicing your opinion increasingly begins to mean that you're a "terrorist," the mainstream media in both countries continue to ignore the real issues, instead condemning protesters or, if they're tired of that, immigrants. It appears that the two countries, who have suffered more than their fair share of social unrest in the past, are beginning to find a common ground on which to move forward: an utter apathy toward the opinions and well-being of their own citizens. 

Follow Yiannis on Twitter: @YiannisBab

More from Greece and Turkey:

Turkey's Weekend of Street War, Jubilation, and Bulldozer Joyrides

Turkey Almost Lost Its Internet 

Occupiers Faced Down Cops in Istanbul's Taksim Square 

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