Anticosti is nestled in the heart of the Saint Lawrence River gulf and is on the front lines of a major environmental controversy. Despite Quebec's commitment to lowering greenhouse gas emissions at the Paris Climate Change Conference, the province seems rather tempted by the island's estimated 12.3 million barrels of oil that could be extracted annually.

Petrolia has already gotten the green light from the province to begin exploratory fracking in early 2016 to find out if Anticosti really is as lucrative as estimates suggest. Some of the island's 200 residents are apprehensive that the thousands of wells will destroy their land, but with mounting unemployment, many locals see the shale gas and oil project as their only option.

Meanwhile, 200,000 deer are freely wandering the island and adding another layer of complexity to Anticosti's ecosystem, making it one of the most unique hunting grounds in North America. VICE traveled to some of the most isolated drilling sites in Quebec to spend time with locals and find out how promises of gas and glory are affecting the tiny, hunting-based community.

On the maternity ward of California's Kaiser Permanente hospital, John and Jessica Strangis found themselves facing a terrible decision. It was June 1, 2014, and the couple were expecting their first child. Jessica had begun feeling contractions at around 4 AM that morning, so John called an ambulance, waiting for it to arrive before getting in his car to make the 20-minute drive from their home to the hospital.

Jessica had gone into labor five weeks early, but there was another complication: John and Jessica were both HIV positive. They knew the doctors would want to give her drugs to prevent the virus being transmitted to their child, but this presented a problem, because both John and Jessica believed those drugs would kill her.

John and Jessica Strangis were HIV denialists, part of a small community that, despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, questions the link between HIV and AIDS. The theories espoused by denialists vary, but typically come down to a few key beliefs: that HIV does not exist or is benign, and that AIDS is directly caused by recreational drug use or lifestyle choices and is not sexually transmitted. As for the vast numbers of people who have died as a result of the disease? It's the HIV treatment that has killed them.

John's introduction to HIV denialism came in 2011, shortly after he received a positive diagnosis. Like many, he stumbled across denialist ideas while searching for information about his condition online. John decided to reject treatment. A few months later, Jessica did the same. John became a vocal spokesman for the movement, making YouTube videos about denialist ideas. When the couple discovered they were expecting a baby, John discussed various options with denialists online—anything that might allow Jessica to avoid taking HIV drugs. Some suggested traveling abroad. Others recommended a home birth. In the end, the baby's premature arrival meant they had no time to carry out these plans.

At the maternity ward, John argued with one of the doctors. The hospital had carried out a blood test and discovered that Jessica could be HIV positive. As a precaution, they recommended using drugs to prevent any harm to the child. John argued with the doctor for half an hour, but he was gradually worn down. The couple became worried about what might happen if they refused. "It came to the point where I'm like, 'If we decide against the treatment, are you going to send someone at gunpoint to take my kid away?'" says John. "The doctor said, 'Not me, but I don't know if someone else might.'"

And so, reluctantly, the couple accepted the drugs.

The roots of the denialist movement can be traced back to a paper published in Cancer Research in 1987, three years after HIV was discovered to be the cause of AIDS. Authored by Peter Duesberg, a biology professor at the University of Berkeley, the paper argued that HIV was harmless and did not cause illness. Duesberg has expanded on this theory in numerous papers in the years since, but his ideas have never gained traction among the scientific community. Nevertheless, they are still used by committed HIV skeptics to lend validity to arguments which occasionally breach the boundaries of mainstream culture.

In 2000, the Foo Fighters played a benefit gig for an organization that denied the link between HIV and AIDS. In 2007, the president of Gambia claimed he could cure HIV with herbs. But the most damaging impact of the HIV denialism movement was seen in South Africa in the years between, when president Thabo Mbeki refused to provide antiretroviral treatment to HIV patients. Harvard researchers have since concluded that the policy caused more than 330,000 premature deaths.

However, even now, the arguments persist. In 2009, theSpectator organized a screening of denialist documentary House of Numbers, only for it to be canceled after protests. In February of 2015, denialist campaigner Joan Shenton held a screening of her film Positive Hell in London.

Much like climate change deniers, HIV denialists claim they represent one side of an unresolved debate. But among the scientific community, there is no serious doubt that HIV causes AIDS. Professor Brian Gazzard is chair of the Expert Advisory Group on AIDS and of the St. Stephen's AIDS Trust. He tells me: "The consensus is totally overwhelming." After decades of arguing against the existence of HIV, denialists have found only a small handful of scientists prepared to lend credibility to their cause—most of them working in fields unrelated to virology. As Gazzard says: "Brilliant people can have bizarre ideas."

In 2000, the HIV crisis in South Africa prompted a letter to be published in Nature, dubbed the Durban Declaration, which declared unequivocally that HIV was the cause of AIDS. It was signed by 5,000 leading researchers in the field. To avoid accusations of bias, scientists working for commercial companies were asked not to sign. The letter described the evidence that HIV causes AIDS as "clear-cut, exhaustive, and unambiguous," adding: "HIV causes AIDS. It is unfortunate that a few vocal people continue to deny the evidence. This position will cost countless lives."

Mike Hersee is a UK-based denialist campaigner. In 2006, he founded Heal London, a website "for people who have questions about their HIV positive diagnoses and the whole HIV/AIDS paradigm." He tells me he has accompanied patients to medical appointments on around 20 occasions, to "challenge the doctor with a few things." These encounters do not always go smoothly. Hersee recalls the first time: "The doctor, who was initially very keen, within a couple of minutes was very agitated. Eventually when he backed himself into a corner and said something stupid, he stood up and screamed, 'Look, he'll die in a year if he doesn't take these drugs.' We were in shock because you don't expect a doctor to do that."

Hersee acknowledges that his medical expertise is self-taught, "but self-taught reading things like quite intense debates between medical specialists." At first, his interest in HIV and AIDS was purely academic. But in 2000, he began a relationship with a young man named Cornelius. Against Hersee's advice, Cornelius took an HIV test and was diagnosed positive. Hersee tells me that Cornelius was given drugs to treat his condition, but decided not to take them after being shown documents which suggested they were dangerous. Hersee continued having unprotected sex with Cornelius and sees his failure to develop the condition as proof of denialist theory. Later in our conversation, I ask Hersee what happened to Cornelius. "He died of heart failure when he was 23," he tells me. "But he had two faulty heart valves. His mother told me he wasn't expected to live until he was 25."

Related: Watch the trailer for CHEMSEX, out in UK theaters on Friday, December 4

Early deaths are sadly not uncommon in the denialist community. The website AIDSTruth has a list of 25 denialist campaigners who have died. Many denialists, like John and Jessica Strangis, are drawn to the movement just after being diagnosed with HIV. As John puts it: "Especially if you're first diagnosed, it sounds pretty good to look at some information that says this condition doesn't exist."

Gus Cairns is a journalist and AIDS activist who tells me: "All the denialists I've known have been driven by a conviction that it's such an appalling thought that it has to be denied and there has to be an escape somehow. Yet, of course there is an escape, and the escape is treatment."

But there are also campaigners without the disease who have nevertheless dedicated their lives to exposing what they believe is an HIV conspiracy. In 2009, psychology professor and AIDS researcher Seth Kalichman published a book, Denying AIDS, in which he explored the roots of the movement. When I ask him about the denialists' motivation, he tells me: "My experience has not been that they are lying or trying to intentionally deceive. The motivating factor for these rogue scientists and journalists, the common thread, is conspiracy thinking around science, the government, industry, and, basically, the establishment."

This view is confirmed by David Crowe, a Canadian journalist who, since 2008, has been president of the denialist group Rethinking AIDS. "There's huge amounts of money, and people's careers rely on this," he tells me. "If you started doing AIDS research in the 1980s or early-90s, that's all you are. These people have a lot of money and status and that would all go away."

After our conversation, it strikes me that the same could be said of the denialists. Their reputations are irreversibly tied to their claims. How many people, once diagnosed with HIV, will have been influenced by their arguments and stopped taking their medication? With so much at stake, could you ever begin to contemplate that you might be wrong?

Five months after the birth of her son, Jessica Strangis fell ill. The birth had gone smoothly and the baby was doing well. The experience had planted seeds of doubt with John about denialist ideas, and he began extricating himself from the movement. But the couple hesitated before resuming treatment. In December of 2014, Jessica developed pneumonia. "I've never seen anyone get sick like that in my life," says John. "I was telling her, 'Forget about all the stuff that we read. Let's just go with what the doctors say. Let them treat you, not argue. Let's try a different route.' Because I didn't want her to die."

After two weeks in intensive care, Jessica Strangis recovered from pneumonia and returned home just before Christmas. Shortly afterwards, she and John resumed their HIV treatment. Their son, Dominic, is now 18 months old. In June this year, the couple gave birth to a daughter, Annabelle. Both children have tested negative for HIV.

Follow Mark on Twitter.

If you or anyone you know is seeking advice about HIV/AIDS, visit the website of the Terrence Higgins Trust.

To read the rest of the articles from our Chemsex Week—a series exploring the people, issues, and stories in and around the world of chemsex—click here.

On Thanksgiving Day, VICE's senior parenting columnist, the professional rapper and male model Kool A.D., dropped a 100-song mixtape called O.K. The tape is meant to serve as a soundtrack to his forthcoming novel of the same name, due out sometime next year from Sorry House, an independent publisher and novelty coffee mug producer.

O.K. is a long, sprawling production stuffed with bangers, but one of the stand-outs is the album's eponymous track. The video for "O.K.," which was also released on Thursday, shows A.D. rapping on a beach and looking very Cool Dad-y in a suite while pouring gasoline on a burning guitar and cradling his baby in his arms (not at the same time).

Watch the video above and then go download O.K. on Bandcamp, if you haven't already. It's pay what you want but there are 100 tracks, so don't be stingy.

When Epicly Later'd started, one of the first things I wanted to do was an Ali Boulala episode. I imagined doing a whole season just on him. He was the perfect subject of the show—hilarious, amazing at skateboarding, infectious to be around, yet also a bit of a mystery. Where and how did he become how he is? There couldn't be anyone else on Earth quite like him.

This was before the drunk driving accident that killed Australian pro Shane Cross and put Ali into a coma. At the time, it was all way too dark and depressing for us to cover—back then, we were doing episodes about Dustin Dollin shopping for pants.

Fast forward to a year or so ago. I posted a photo on my Instagram of Stevie Williams, where Stevie said "I want to do an episode your show, but I don't want any of that depressing bullshit..." Ali Boulala commented on the photo, "I'll do an episode, but I'm sure it will be all depressing."

I contacted him to see if he was serious, and was soon on a plane to Stockholm to visit him. He hasn't done too many interviews since the accident, so I wasn't sure what I would find—but staying with Ali for a week was nice, and most of the trip was full of laughs and good food.

You can see that he has not shut the door on the past, though. There is a picture of Shane Cross on his living-room wall, and it always hangs in the air. But Ali is moving towards putting his life back together, and I'm proud of him for that. This is a heavy episode, and I want to thank Ali for his honesty.

–Patrick O'Dell

Last month, I went to a teen drug summit that was organized to fight the local heroin problem some fear could become a scourge in the suburbs of St. Charles County, an affluent area outside St. Louis. The event was organized by CRUSH (Community Resources United to Stop Heroin), an initiative spearheaded by County Prosecuting Attorney Tim Lohmar, a tall and determined gentleman who's quick to flash a smile. There were judges present, a lot of men in suits, fully uniformed law enforcement officers, and DEA agents armed with pistols.

With white suburban America increasingly attuned to the heroin problem, it quickly became clear that this wasn't your run-of-the-mill Scared Straight–style terror fest, but a genuine attempt by local law enforcement to combat drug use.

"We've had 25 overdose deaths just this year and 30 last year, so we're on pace for about the same number," Lohmar told me. "Only five years ago, if you asked people in the community whether heroin was a problem, they would just look at you with a strange look on their face, but nowadays it's something different. People do realize that it is a big deal, and that's the first part of trying to get to the bottom of the issue is just making people aware."

Hundreds of sixth- through eighth-grade students from 15 different local public schools were bussed in for the event. They were all wearing Drug Summit T-shirts, and outside the ballroom where the event too place, local organizations and agencies invested in fighting the problem lined the hallways giving out Stop Heroin bumper stickers and bracelets. There was a plethora of literature and resources to inform the youngsters about drug use and a bevy of business cards and contact numbers for the kids to call in time of need.

Every table had an offering of candy and treats, too, a sort of pseudo Halloween, and the kids in their colorful T-shirts lined up to talk to the vendors and get a chance to grab some candy. Jude Hassan from Bridgeway Behavioral Health was manning one of the tables. A former addict himself, he was a featured speaker at the event.

"I think it's critical to reach kids at this age especially," Hassan told me. "A lot of schools are hesitant to have people come in and talk to kiddos that are this age because they don't want to offend the parents, they don't want the parents to be upset. They think that it's not happening at that age, but it is. It's so important to send that message to them that this is out there and at one point or another they are going to be approached."

Seeing all the kids reminded me of back when I was at that tender age. It was as a seventh grader that I first got involved in the drug world by smoking a joint. I quickly progressed to LSD, mushrooms, and cocaine. But I never got into heroin. Back in the 1980s, when I was a teenager, heroin was this dangerous thing that you had to go into the inner city to get. It involved shady characters and hypodermic needles and injections. It was just something altogether different and you didn't see it much in the suburbs.

Gee Vigna and another volunteer at the summit. Photos by the author

Heroin was for the hardcore drug addicts, I thought then, but now it's a different story. Opiates are quite accessible in the suburbs in capsule-like pills that are called "beans" and "buttons" and go for $5 to $10 apiece. I talked to DEA Task Force Officer Juan Wilson, an engaging and charismatic agent who grew up in St. Charles and was there giving presentations on the dangers of heroin to the kids, to get the inside scoop on the bean and button trade in the suburbs.

"I think with the capsules and the beans and the buttons in the powder form, it's making it more socially acceptable, because when you had intravenous use or with a syringe it was considered a dirty drug and it was more so secluded," Wilson told me. "Heroin isn't considered a party drug—but the usage of it, ingesting it and snorting it is more acceptable to people in society versus injecting. I think it is appealing to more and more people in the suburbs because you can snort it or even smoke it."

And with the purity levels of heroin way higher now than in the 1980s, more people, especially kids, are overdosing even when snorting it . There were 8,620 heroin-related overdose deaths in 2013, triple the number from 2010, and in St. Charles County there were zero heroin overdose deaths in 2010, but 30 in 2014, according to a DEA presentation at the event.

"We really had no idea heroin was in our community," said Gee Vigna, a middle-aged suburban mother whose daughter Nicky died of a heroin overdose in 2013. "We tried all the things that we thought were the right things to do, but we really didn't understand the possession that heroin has on a person. When we look back now there is really so much that we didn't know. When they say what you don't know will hurt you, that is pretty much the case in this particular heroin use."

Watch: Stopping HIV? The Truvada Revolution

Despite her loss, Vigna has decided to push ahead by founding Walking for Wellness in memory of Nicky Vigna and all other families who have lost a child, sibling, parent or friend to heroin. The group takes walks through their communities neighborhoods to raise awareness to prevent what happened to Nicky from happening to anyone else.

"We decided to start Walking for Wellness really not having any idea what to expect," Vigna said. "And it just took off with social media and now it has a national presence. We began to get requests from all over the United States. Help us, help us, help us. This is killing our kids. What do we do? How do we take care of this? And we kind of just sat back for a minute because here we are grieving the loss of our child and all of a sudden people think you're the expert on heroin. And we really weren't the experts on heroin. We learned step by step. One thing we did know was that if we didn't know this was in our community and we didn't know that this was in our house, I guarantee you that everyone else out in this community doesn't know that either."

I found myself wanting to speak out and share my story, having seen the dark side of drug use in America and spent over two decades behind bars for it.

"Kids are very, very impressionable," the DEA Agent Wilson tells me. "Kids today are so much more smart than they use to be, they are so curious and they start drug use at a very young age. Their brain isn't fully developed until they are 21. But the brain is constantly seeking more and more and more , and it's easy to target a brain that wants more. They target people in our county because people kind of have money and more time on their hands. So they start to target users out this way for those reasons."

Just this past summer in St. Charles County, a task force arrested 54 people and took 34,000 doses of heroin worth about $900,000 off the streets. But the problem hasn't gone away. The Teen Drug Summit is meant to be the other piece of the puzzle, an offensive launched by St. Charles Country officials to combat the problem not through arrests, but education. It's a relatively modern approach, one that makes for a contrast with the DARE of decades past.

"Some of the crimes that we've charged have led to more public awareness," County Prosecutor Lohmar said. "Events like this have led to more public awareness. We want to get to a point so that when people here in the community hear about heroin they look at it like the plague. That it's something that's not sort of a mystery anymore. It;s a real thing and something that people want to avoid like the plague."

With the cartels pumping heroin into the United States like never before thanks in part to marijuana decriminalization in some states, it's going to be a tough battle indeed. But educating and informing kids is the best course of action. After all, if you educate them now, you don't have to lock them up later.

Follow Seth Ferranti on Twitter.

Check out more from Julian Glander at his Twitter, Instagram, and blog.

Photo via Wikimedia Commons

This World AIDS Day, VICE is exploring the state of HIV around the globe. Watch our special report, "Countdown to Zero," tonight on HBO at 9 PM, and to get involved visit red.org and shop (RED).

By 1982, AIDS deaths in America had reached 853. At a press conference at the White House with President Ronald Reagan that October, a journalist named Lester Kinsolving raised his hand to ask Reagan's Press Secretary, Larry Speakes, about the epidemic—and whether or not the President had made a statement about it.

"I don't know a thing about it," said Press Secretary Speakes. The reporter noted that one in three people who have contracted AIDS have died from what had been called "the gay plague"—and the press pool, in turn, erupted into laughter.

"I don't have it," said Speakes, as the crowd laughed. "Do you?"

The next year, the death toll from AIDS would nearly triple. Kinsolving would continue to ask the same question in press conferences over the course of the next three years—to the same mocking and laughter. (At one point, Speakes called out his "abiding interest" in "fairies.")

The recordings from these press conferences are the centerpiece of a new short film by Scott Calonico, When AIDS Was Funny (which you can watch here). Calonico, who formerly worked at the State Archives in Austin, Texas, applied his historical research background for the documentary-style film, which incorporates the unearthed recordings, memos, and transcripts.

Read our other stories relating to World AIDS Day here.

"Mother Jones did a fantastic story last year about the conferences and the transcripts," Calonico told me. But while the story about the press conference was out there, as well as chronicled in the book Shots in the Dark, the audiotapes had yet to be uncovered. Intrigued, Calonico started digging.

"Because I've done so much research with presidential libraries, I started wondering if there was any videotape coverage. So I consulted the Reagan library and started speaking to the archivists there. It turns out there wasn't any video footage—but there was audio... and a lot of it."

"They were referring to this epidemic as 'the gay plague.'" — Scott Calonico

Calonico found that each press conference stretched on for about an hour, led by Press Secretary Speakes, whose career would eventually be scandalized by admitting he fabricated quotes attributed to President Reagan. Each was a fairly standard White House daily briefing, where the press secretary would clarify the President's statements and positions, outline the traveling schedule, and so on.

To obtain this never-heard-before audio from the Reagan library, Calonico simply filled out a standard form and paid for the copy. "I knew I was onto something when the archivist told me that he had to digitize the tapes for me—which means nobody had requested them in a while."

The result was chilling. It's eerie enough to read the transcripts, but to actually hear the recordings is infuriating.

"As the newspaper clipping in the film shows, one of the ways were referring to this epidemic was 'the gay plague,'" says Calonico.

Watch the trailer for our HBO special report "Countdown To Zero," premiering tonight on HBO.

Kinsolving, the reporter in the tapes, had been a long-time White House fixture. His career began at the San Francisco Examiner, where he was one of the first writers critical of Jim Jones and The People's Temple, years before the mass suicide in the jungles of Guyana.

"By the time he got to the White House pool, Lester had moved to writing for local magazines. His daughter told me that during the time frame covered in the film, he was making something like $200 a month," said Calonico. "For most of the other people in the press pool, he was considered something of a crackpot. However, in this case, he was eerily prescient."

On VICE News: Americans Are Still Being Imprisoned For Being HIV Positive

It wasn't until 1985, when over 5,000 people had died from AIDS, that Reagan first mentioned AIDS in public. The Reagan administration—which had until then been more or less indifferent to AIDS—called the epidemic a "top priority," according to a report in the New York Times.

"This is where it kind of gets complicated," said Calonico. "It's easy to paint Reagan as the bad guy, but in real life he did speak out in support of non-traditional lifestyles." Calonico mentioned that, in 1978, while Reagan was still Governor of California, he spoke out against Proposition 6, which would've prevented gays and lesbians from teaching in public schools.

"So I don't know if it was Reagan who didn't want to make a statement or his people who thought it might damage his reputation," said Calonico, adding: "I think it's pretty telling that his first statement about AIDS comes in 1985—when he's safely back in office for a second term."

Follow Harmon Leon on Twitter.

Welcome to Netiquette 101, in which we use cyber-case studies to teach you basic but valuable cyber-lessons in how to be a better cyber-citizen. Today, we talk the terrible crap that presidential candidates were trying to sell you on Cyber Monday.

Greetings, fellow netheads! Yesterday was Cyber Monday, which is the internet equivalent of the famed Black Friday, the annual shopping holiday that, over the years, has morphed into an extended commerce extravaganza in which big-box retailers and e-commerce sites slash prices in an attempt to get consumers to spend as much money as their credit cards will allow, both online and in what we in "the biz" like to call "IRL."

Rest assured, I have cybersex every Monday, so every Monday is "Cyber Monday" for me. But for the rest of you, it seems like it was a pretty big deal: online sales from yesterday are expected to top $3 billion. Even before the fateful day, it was revealed that Americans spent more money online than they did in stores over this Black Friday weekend. Hell, both Target and PayPal went dark yesterday due to the unfathomable influx of web traffic.

Still, if you looked around the ol' World Wide, you could find a few Cyber Monday deals that were worth your clicks. Many presidential candidates, for instance, offered discounts that shocked and awed scores of online shopping enthusiasts (I don't actually know if these people exist, or if anyone has bought campaign merchandise ever, but for the sake of this piece, let's assume they do).

Take Florida Senator and Republican presidential candidate Marco Rubio, who celebrated Cyber Monday by lowering prices on campaign merch, making shipping free, and throwing in a free window decal with every purchase. This meant you could buy what I like to call the "Marco Rubio Dad Joke Pack," comprised of a "Freedom of Espresso" mug, a "Water Great Nation" water bottle, the "Marco Polo," and the "Let Freedom Ring" cell phone case, all for the low, low price of $155. When you look at the sheer number of shitty puns in Rubio's webstore, you realize that despite his campaign's aching desire to make voters believe otherwise, Marco Rubio is the least cool dude in the universe.

A Jeb! guacamole bowl! Image courtesy of Jeb2016.com

Of course, you could also have moseyed on over to Jeb!'s campaign site, where the other Floridian was offering all merch at 20 percent off. That means you would have gotten deep, deep discounts on a "Jeb! Impotence Starter Kit," including a hooded sweatshirt that Jeb! doesn't know how to put on, a mason jar (because, as the product description explains, "every drink tastes better in a cute mason jar."), an apron, and a goddamn $75 guacamole bowl .

If for some unfathomable reason you'd wanted all of this useless shit, on Cyber Monday, you could have owned a whole heap of useless stuff for a mere $145. Now, because you failed to act, all of this Jeb! swag will cost you $182.

On the Democratic side, Hillary Clinton offered what amounts to a pretty shitty Cyber Monday sale—free shipping on all orders of $75 or more. Then again, Clinton's merch is kind of sweet, in a "Flash Sale at Urban Outfitters" way. Or at least it's the least embarrassing of all the crap political campaigns would like to sell you (The Ted Cruz ugly Xmas sweater notwithstanding). There's this five-panel cap that is very "Justin Bieber concert" (in a good way), a wool cap that's very "J. Crew outlet" (in a less good way), a "Grillary Clinton" spatula, and an embroidered pillow that says "A woman's place is in the White House." They're even selling a bandana for your dog.

It's not all good though—her campaign is also hawking "YAAAAS HILLARY" t-shirts, and, uh, this:

Donald Trump and Ben Carson, the improbable leaders of the GOP's 2016 pack, apparently opted not to hold Cyber Monday sales. Then again, when you're Ben Carson and your campaign is selling stuff like Lands' End v-necks, branded scrubs (?), and cat collars (??) with your name on it, that stuff sells itself, y'know?

As for Trump, his "Make America Great Again" hats have become the must-have campaign accessory of this batshit election cycle. Between the inherent popularity of his merchandise (both among honest-to-God Republicans and people buying the hats to make fun of Trump), and the fact that his campaign isn't lacking for money, Trump has no need for Cyber Monday. Plus, campaign merchandise is generally terrible and dumb, so the less attention candidates draw to it with online sales and free shipping, the better off we'll all be.

Follow Drew Millard on Twitter.

On today's episode of Daily VICE, we examine the life and times of Ali Boulala, dig through the spoils of Tumblr's shoplifting community, make some Victorian hair art, and meet distortion pedal maverick Dr. Blankenstein.

Drive north from Reykjavik, past the peaks of black rock thrusting from the lowlands. A dense wind comes off the coast, laced with salt, flowing over narrow coves and up empty streets. Hot springs pepper the country's center, the sharp musk of sulfur floating from their pocked surfaces. Wedged between mountains are lush strips of field dotted with small villages—Reykholt, Laugarbakki, Varmahlíð—and goats and horses wander behind homes eating grass or just staring off into the distance. Then you hit the northern coast, farms and fisheries lining its shores, up and up until you can't drive anymore. As the Arctic Ocean meets the country's northern front, waterfalls of glacial runoff pour over cliffs, crashing into the rocks below.

Then, once you've gone as far north as you can go, look 25 miles to the north of that, and that's while you'll find Grímsey, an the size of Central Park where roughly 90 people live, a lush patch of green encased in cliffs. Last May, as I boarded a ferry to the island with my close friend and photographer Cole Barash and our mutual friend and cinematographer Brandon Kuzma, I could almost make out its southern tip in the distance, a sliver of green set against the dense blue strip of the horizon.

During our week on Grímsey, Cole documented all aspects of the culture. We would take late-night hikes to all corners of the island, to the western cliffs and the lighthouse, down to the harbor and into homes of residents. We went on boats and attended Bingo night and school graduation. We played soccer with the children. We looked at photo albums and mementos. Cole shot the entire project on medium-format and 35mm film. He is patient and detailed when he makes a photograph. His lips purse and his eyes narrow. He stands on the balls of his feet, moving his head back and forth like a boxer, looking for the best way in. He was drawn into the small details of the island—a mirror on a wall, the shower of a bathroom, a hula hoop left on the ground. Muted tones of landscapes juxtaposed flash-driven and vibrant interiors. White, gold and blue flood the images chosen for the book. A subtle but uneasy feeling threads itself throughout the end product—a snapshot of what it means to live on Grímsey. It's abstract and subtle.

Now these photos have made their way into a book published by Silas Finch, so I took the chance to catch up with Cole about the project and his process.

VICE: How did your approach to this body of work differ from past projects?

The Black Lives Matter protest in Minneapolis that was the site of an apparently racially-motivated shooting last week. Photo via Flickr user Tony Webster

Every blue moon, they make their way into the news cycle: so-called "sovereign citizens" groups. These anti-government crusaders believe they are not subject to laws on the local, state or federal level. That means they often refuse to carry proper ID, or pay taxes, which they deem illegitimate—if not unholy. They don't even recognize United States currency. These types don't much trust police, either, and in that sense, you might expect them to share a kinship—however tenuous—with protesters outside a police department.

But sovereign citizens are also frequently racists, and the people protesting American police in 2015 are often black. Maybe that's why, when a hail of bullets erupted last Monday during a protest headed up by Black Lives Matter and the NAACP outside Minneapolis's fourth precinct police department, the gunfire allegedly came from at least one man linked to the anti-government movement.

Last week, several people suspected of involvement in the shooting were arrested. Among them was 23-year-old Allen "Lance" Scarsella, a former high school football player who allegedly fired eight times into the crowd, injuring five. In his indictment, under a section marked "statement of probable cause," investigators suggest Scarsella subscribed to the sovereign citizen movement, and that he went to the protest with friends to "stir things up" and "cause commotion."

Suffice it to say he got his wish.

The activists had gathered to protest the November 15 shooting of 24 year-old Jamar Clark, who was killed by Minneapolis police with a shot to the head. Not only was he unarmed, but witnesses say he was handcuffed when police fired the fatal shot. Ever since, protesters have encamped themselves outside the police department's fourth precinct, not far from where Clark took his last breaths. They're demanding that a video of the shooting be released, and have vowed to stay put until it is.

This protest apparently rubbed Scarsella and his friends the wrong way, and they made a point to show up to videotape and harass protesters on November 23, according to prosecutors. Scarsella supposedly told his cohorts to dress normally and blend in with the protesters, encouraging them to feel free to carry weapons. Avideo made public shortly after news of last week's shooting shows Scarsella and another man, both wearing masks, talk of their intention to "make the fire rise," at the protest, an apparent reference to a line the villain Bane utters in The Dark Knight Rises that has been adopted by some white supremacists. They sign off by saying, "Stay white."

Once there, protesters quickly tired of Scarsella and his antics, which included videotaping them despite their objections and his refusal to take off his mask or identify himself. A protester threw a punch, a chase ensued, and Scarsella's wish to "cause commotion" was fulfilled in the form of bullets fired from his .45-caliber handgun around 10:40 PM.

A couple hours later, investigators have learned, Scarsella called a police officer acquaintance of his outside of Minneapolis and told him he'd shot the five protesters. That officer advised him to turn himself and his guns over to police, and told investigators of Scarsella's fondness for the sovereign citizen philosophy, and that he knew him to carry guns. Scarsella, the officer told investigators, had "very intense opinions," and "negative experiences with and opinions about African Americans."

Investigators arrested Scarsella the morning after the shooting at his Bloomington, Minnesota, home, which they proceeded to search. They found "numerous guns and ammunition," according to the indictment, including a .45-caliber handgun similar to the one fired at protesters. They confiscated Scarsella's phone, discovering on it texts that further illustrated his alleged plans to disrupt and possibly disband the protest. Also in the phone were several photos of Scarsella carrying guns and some racist images, including his posing with the confederate flag.

Scarsella was charged, along with three other men, on Monday, and his bail was set at $500,000, according to Reuters. At a court appearance Tuesday afternoon, Hennepin County Attorney Mike Freeman slapped the foursome with felony riot charges, and Scarsella with assault with a dangerous weapon.

Follow Brian McManus on Twitter.

Photo via Flickr user Gage Skidmore

Donald Trump loves to talk about Donald Trump, which is not a problem because everyone loves to hear about Donald Trump. His fans love to bask in his increasingly-thinly-veiled fascism, and his anti-fans love to roll their eyes and gnash their teeth at whatever horrific idea he has just endorsed. You, reading this right now, are part of the problem, and so am I. Whatever else he is, the puffy-faced former TV show host is the hottest thing on the internet since a cat first adorably mashed a keyboard, and he knows it.

So it's no surprise that, while speaking to a rally in Georgia on Monday, Trump suggested, according to NBC News, that CNN should pay him $5 million to appear at the network's next GOP debate.

"How about I tell CNN, who doesn't treat me properly. I'm not gonna do the next debate, OK? I won't do the debate unless they pay me $5 million, all of which goes to wounded warriors or goes to vets," he said.

Trump previously wanted $10 million to be donated to charity in order for him to appear at CNN's first presidential debate, and it's become fashionable for the more anti-establishment GOP candidates to treat the networks not as the medium by which their message reaches potential voters, but as adversaries. Trump claimed responsibility for forcing CNBC to shorten its debate, and the Republican Party as a whole slammed that network for the moderators' supposedly biased questions.

The next GOP debate is scheduled to be held in Las Vegas on December 15. Trump is going to be there and we'll have to listen to him, again.

Follow Brian on Twitter.

Robert Lewis Dear. Photo via El Paso County Sheriff's Office

Four days after the deadly mass shooting at a Planned Parenthood center in Colorado Springs, a crucial question about the suspect, 57-year-old Robert Lewis Dear, remains: Was the assault a political act, or simply the random undertaking of a madman?

The question is important politically. Planned Parenthood itself and many on the left side of the American ideological spectrum have said extremist anti-abortion rhetoric is at least partly to blame for the violence, and view this as just the latest chapter in a decades-long campaign of violent terrorism against reproductive freedom. The right, on the other hand—which often views abortion itself as an act of violence—has largely dismissed Dear as a crazy person unrelated to any mainstream politics, an interpretation offered by Donald Trump, among other wannabe statesmen.

A deeply reported New York Times story that dropped Tuesday afternoon attempted to suss out the answer to that question. Dear was certainly disturbed, the paper found, but he also apparently had longstanding anti-abortion views:

A number of people who knew Mr. Dear said he was a staunch abortion opponent, though another ex-wife, Pamela Ross, said that he did not obsess on the subject. After his arrest, Mr. Dear said "no more baby parts" to investigators, a law enforcement official said.

One person who spoke with him extensively about his religious views said Mr. Dear, who is 57, had praised people who attacked abortion providers, saying they were doing "God's work." In 2009, said the person, who spoke on the condition of anonymity out of concerns for the privacy of the family, Mr. Dear described as "heroes" members of the Army of God, a loosely organized group of anti-abortion extremists that has claimed responsibility for a number of killings and bombings.

In addition to sympathizing with murderers, Dear allegedly beat his second wife, committed serial adultery, and even raped a married woman he became obsessed with after meeting her at a Sears. He seems to have alternated between fits of religious frenzy, often expressed in all caps on the internet, and episodes of (sometimes-violent) hedonism.

It's safe to say the religious right—and, for that matter, Republican presidential candidates—aren't likely to admit their own rhetoric has any kind of impact on people like Dear. And as the New Yorker has noted, unlike many terrorists who have attacked Planned Parenthood clinics in the past, Dear wasn't a veteran anti-abortion activist, so the linkage between him and right-wing extremism isn't so clear-cut. But whatever his mental state, it's increasing clear that this man's choice of target was not a random one. In other words, there's a reason that some Planned Parenthood clinics across America are currently reviewing their security measures.

Follow Matt Taylor on Twitter.

The author, riding an as-of-now unexploded hoverboard. Photo by Mike Pearl

At last, we've gotten to the fun part of the hoverboard backlash. We've weathered the inane "wait, that's not a real hoverboard" storm, largely bypassed the "people falling off of them" stage (besides one video it wasn't even funny to watch people crash on them), and watched as Wiz Khalifa taped his own hoverboard arrest.

We've finally reached the "HOLY SHIT THE FUCKING HOVERBOARDS ARE EXPLODING!" phase of the hoverboard backlash. Last month, there were multiple reports of exploding hoverboards in the UK, who, much like with the Beatles and young adult fiction about magical teens, beat us to yet another trend.

A couple of days ago, there were reports of a hoverboard exploding in Louisiana, leading to the destruction of a home. In the past few days, video has surfaced of an Alabama man's hoverboard catching fire, only to have the thing straight-up explode after his mom threw some baking soda on it in a (really weird) attempt to put it out.

Watch the man, Timothy Cade, speak to NBC affiliate WKRG about the incident, which he partially captured on film.

Cade claims to have purchased the off-brand hoverboard for cheap from Amazon.

A recent Wired report credited cheap batteries on hoverboards manufactured in China with the explosions. So if you're in the market for a hoverboard, don't get a shitty one.

Follow Drew on Twitter.

This story appears in the December issue of VICE magazine.

This August, VICE News filmmaker Medyan Dairieh gained exclusive access to the Syrian branch of al Qaeda, al Nusra, a jihadist group fighting against President Bashar al Assad's forces and the Islamic State.

Spending more than a month with al Nusra and exploring their expanding territory, Dairieh met the highest-ranking members of the organization, who revealed their identity onscreen for the first time and discussed their military doctrine.

Al Nusra, which swore allegiance to al Qaeda two years ago and is now emerging as a powerful force to rival the Islamic State in Syria, has seized several strategic towns in the northwestern province of Idlib. While it supplies water, electricity, and food to the local population, al Nusra is also running a school, the Lion Cubs Religious Academy, in Aleppo, where it grooms young boys to become the next generation of al Qaeda and prepares them for jihad.

Not all of the children in the Lion Cubs Religious Academy come from families affiliated with al Qaeda, but the majority do. Taught that dying in jihad will make them martyrs, they will likely join the tens of thousands of child soldiers being used and abused in conflicts around the world.

Abu Anas (left) a student who recently arrived from Uzbekistan, is still learning Arabic. He told VICE that he misses his relatives in his home country but doesn't miss Uzbekistan itself, because "they don't approve of jihad and they call us terrorists. They're frightened by us. They don't want jihad. They don't want Allah's laws." Questioned again later, he said his father "died as a martyr" but wouldn't disclose where.

The children sing songs with lyrics like: "Oh, Mother, don't be sad; I've chosen the land of jihad. / Wipe your tears, I only went to defeat the Jews."

Al Nusra now controls territories in Aleppo and Idlib. The group is currently fighting on three fronts: against the Syrian regime, Kurdish forces, and the Islamic State.

"The young will establish a caliphate, following the prophet's traditions, and they will carry the message of jihad," Abu Baser, the children's teacher, told VICE.

Even growing up surrounded by war, the young boys still experience many of the fixtures of a regular childhood. They play sports. They go on school trips to an old amusement park where they push bumper cars left immobile without electricity. They swim in a pool, some diving confidently, some clinging to rubber rings.

Many of the children have seen horrific acts. A boy from Idlib said: "I witnessed the Nusayris kill the men and slaughter the women and children.

"There are many without any religious knowledge," he continued. "I'll teach them and invite them, but if they don't listen, then I'll use the sword."

Abu Khatab al Maqdisi, the al Nusra Front member assigned to show VICE around, spoke of the students with pride. "God willing, we hope that these cubs will lead the nation and end oppression," he said. "Hopefully they'll be a powerful generation... The guys in charge of education are doing their best and working with the available resources to raise this generation, which will be leading the jihad in the future."

While driving to the front line at the Abu al Duhur airbase in Idlib, al Maqdisi said the Lion Cubs Religious Academy was a reason for hope. He rejoices "when one sees children like these who grow up obeying God... raised correctly, who in the near future will reach an age in which they can go into training camps and hold weapons. They will be the next generation to carry the burden of jihad and lead the nation... jihad in Syria and outside, God willing. One wishes to be a child again and be with them."

Back in the school, Abu Ashak (not pictured), a young student who looks to be about ten years old, said that his father and brother were fighting for al Nusra in Qalamoun, where they were under siege by the Islamic State and the Lebanese army. The boy said he hadn't seen or spoken to them in two years.

"My father reminds me of Osama bin Laden, who terrorized and fought the Americans, and one day my father will be like him," he continued. "And I want to be like Osama's son. He spends his time preaching to people, and from a young age he started learning the Qur'an, so he became a sheikh at a young age. That's why it's important to think about my future now."

Abu Ashak said attending the academy was vital because "it helps me prepare myself for Judgment Day, but also it's important to go to school to secure your future. You must plan for your future."

Meanwhile, Abu Ashak's younger brother, Abu Omayer (right), who appears to be about the age of a kindergartener, said his parents sent him to the academy. "I want to be an inghamasi for Allah's sake," he said, smiling bashfully.

Sheikh Abdu Salam, a leader of al Nusra who had never before appeared on camera, spoke to VICE in an exclusive interview. "The difference between the first generation of al Qaeda and the second one is that the first one had to operate secretly in areas under tyrants' control, like Syria and other countries," he said. "Then it changed to direct fighting as a group.

"The new generation, praise be to God, they saw the real face of al Qaeda. God made it easy for them... This new generation of al Qaeda is more aware, so we know that this battle, God willing, has a settled outcome, which is victory against the regime and establishing our own Islamic state."

CHEMSEX will be released in the UK on Friday, December 4.

CHEMSEX will be released on DVD and On-Demand in the UK on January 11.

To read the rest of the articles from our Chemsex Week—a series exploring the people, issues, and stories in and around the world of chemsex—click here.

For the final episode of the new season of Epicly Later'd we flew to Stockholm, Sweden, to spend some time with former pro skater Ali Boulala. While there, we talked to him about his skating career and the drunk driving accident that killed his best friend Shane Cross and changed Boulala's life forever.

In 2007, while in Melbourne, Australia, Boulala crashed his motorcycle into a wall after a night of drinking. Shane Cross was riding on the back of the bike and died almost instantly upon impact. Boulala was left in a coma.

When he awoke in the hospital, he had no recollection of the accident. In this clip from his Epicly episode, Boulala walks us through the immediate aftermath of the tragedy and what it was like to find himself in the hospital and piece together the story of how he got there.

Ali Boulala's Epicly Later'd is heavy, but we're grateful he opened up to us about his career, his accident, and his struggles with addiction. You can watch the full thing here.

Illustration by Elizabeth Renstrom

This story appears in the December issue of VICE magazine.

Sometime around 2008, the website AzizIsBored.com began redirecting to the more straight-ahead AzizAnsari.com. Old website names can tell you something about their creators, in this case, actor and comedian Aziz Ansari. When AzizIsBored.com was first purchased, in 2005, Ansari was finishing up a marketing degree at NYU, hitting up open mics and comedy nights around the city. Since then, he's become one of America's most popular stand-ups and distinctive comedic actors, selling out national tours and starring alongside Amy Poehler for seven seasons on the hit TV show Parks and Recreation. Since this time last year, Ansari has published Modern Romance, an engaging and unexpectedly research-driven pop-psychology book on relationships in the digital age; sold out Madison Square Garden twice in the same night; toured with Amy Schumer; and, not least of all, created and starred in a new show, Master of None, which debuted ten episodes in November to wide acclaim and a slew of media coverage, from Fresh Air to Fallon. These days, it seems safe to assume, the prolific 32-year-old has been less bored. Aziz Is Really Busy would seem more like it.

A few days before the show's release, I met Ansari for lunch at an upscale bagel spot in SoHo, where the hostesses and server greeted him with familiarity (whether it was as a celebrity or a regular customer was hard to say). Although he now lives in Manhattan—and has on and off since enrolling at NYU in 2001—a lot is made of Ansari's being a native son of South Carolina, where I was born and raised, also by Asian immigrant parents. I wanted to know what his experience of growing up in Bennettsville, a town of 9,000 with an Asian population of less than 0.5 percent, was like.

"It was weird," he said, "but it was one of those things where I'd never lived anywhere else or had a frame of reference to know it was weird at the time. I was the only minority; it was only white kids in my school. People always ask me, like, 'Were people racist?' And I'm like, 'No, not really.' I mean, occasionally, but it was never super mean, not as mean as, like, other crazy stories I've heard from friends."

This wasn't the answer I had expected, given my own experience of small-town South Carolina, which I found to be a fairly antagonistic place, more in line with the nuanced if blunt observations to be found in Ansari's act, when he describes the state as a crossroads between racism and good biscuits.

I asked whether growing up as an outsider had shaped his perspective as a comedian, and Ansari redirected the question. "Again, you don't feel that when you're there," he said. "Like, me being an Indian guy from South Carolina was not treated as such a crazy thing until I came to New York. It was not a thing in South Carolina; it's now when it's a thing."

"We're a generation that has so many choices, that finds it really hard to make its choices. Your thirties is when you finally have to fucking make those choices."

After our server stacked an impressively architectural arrangement of our dishes—including plates of whitefish salad, sable, and meticulously sliced tomatoes, cucumbers, and red onion, with other salads and a basket of everything bagels to the side—we constructed our sandwiches and discussed the origins of his show. As the semiautobiographical character Dev, a struggling Indian American actor in New York, Ansari makes his way through his early 30s like many in his demographic—going on dates, attending weddings, grabbing coffee with friends, cooking pasta for his girlfriend (Noël Wells), reevaluating his relationship with his aging parents, and trying to get ahead in his career—in short, he's a rounded character whose parents happen to come from India. Starring as members of Ansari's inner circle of friends are Kelvin Yu, Lena Waithe, Ravi Patel, and Eric Wareheim (of the comedy duo Tim & Eric)—"my token white friend," Ansari recently quipped to Jimmy Fallon. The cast is a refreshing change from the historically lily-white worlds of similar ensemble comedies set in New York—Girls, Seinfeld, Friends, the list goes on—where people of color rarely appear in any significant way.

Co-creators Ansari and Alan Yang, a writer on Parks and Recreation, set out simply to do "a premium-cable-type show, with cursing and no content restrictions." But when they started writing, they realized that they were in a unique position to tell stories informed by the kinds of personal experiences that are rarely shown on TV, as they did in the episode "Parents," which dramatizes the divide between immigrants and their American-born children and features Ansari's actual parents as Dev's parents.

"No show starring a white guy is going to do an episode like 'Indians on TV,'" Ansari told me, referring to the standout episode that deals with racist stereotypes and quotas in media. He brought up a recent round table with Empire creator Lee Daniels. "Black people hate white people writing for black people," Daniels told the audience. "It's so offensive."

"I really related to that because a lot of times people don't get it right," Ansari explained. For Master of None, he worked closely with Waithe to develop the character of Denise, Dev's friend, who is a black lesbian. " really helped tailor everything to make it sound right, and there's stuff in there that I wouldn't have been able to write without her help. I try to be very conscious of that issue with all the characters."

That a show as diverse and representative as Master of None exists is offered by some as evidence of changing times in the TV industry, where diversity has finally started creeping in, with shows created by and starring people of color, such as Empire, Key and Peele, The Mindy Project, and Fresh off the Boat, among others. Still, Ansari isn't convinced. "Guess what?" he'd said during an Entertainment Weekly panel in October. "Every other show is still white people." Ansari told me how Brian, Yu's character, was an important one for them to get right. "Asian guys have had such a rough time in their representation in film and television. That's one thing Alan always used to say: 'You think everything's all right? When's the last time you've seen an Asian guy kiss someone?' Only in the past few years has that really happened.

"They don't fuck anybody at the end of those movies," he added, laughing, and it's worth noting that is not the case in Master of None. Sex plays in Ansari's stand-up act too, in the exaggerated form of now retired frat-bro alter ego Randy (or, as he calls him, Raaaaaaaandy, "with eight A's"), who boasts of such feats as giving cunnilingus while underwater and receiving blowjobs in an igloo.

READ: Realistic Asian-Americans Have Finally Arrived on TV

But Dev is a far cry from Randy or from the role Ansari is best known for, Tom Haverford, the catcalling government employee he played on Parks and Recreation. The new character's views about sex and women are more like the real-life Ansari's, whose 2015 Live at Madison Square Garden comedy special included bits about how frequently women are harassed by men—basically all the time. This reality is echoed in the episode "Ladies & Gentlemen," which shows the stark difference between a female character's frightening late-night walk home, tailed by a stranger, and the 2 AM jaunt of Dev and Arnold (Wareheim), set to the tune of "Don't Worry, Be Happy." When Dev finds out about her experience, he seeks to better understand—and help enact some change.

It's a socially-engaged approach to making comedy, as well as to just being a decent human being, which still isn't without its drama. " figured his shit out for the most part," Ansari told me, helping himself to some whitefish salad. "But that's still scary. You're like, 'All right. I guess this is who I am as an adult.' Whether you decide to get married or have a kid, that changes the course of your life. We're a generation that has so many choices, that finds it really hard to make its choices. Your thirties is when you finally have to fucking make those choices."

Making the right decisions in a world overloaded with choices is a primary theme, too, in Modern Romance. "Historically, we're at a unique moment," Ansari and his co-author, psychologist Eric Klinenberg, write. "No one has ever been presented with more options in romance... With all these choices, how can anyone possibly be sure that they've made the right one?" The mood of inquiry continues throughout Master of None. Constantly, characters are bogged down by things that need deciding: whether to go to Nashville on a first date, whether to break up or settle down, whether to do a racist accent to land a role, where to get tacos. It's over these conversations that Master of None lingers and ruminates with a patient, if occasionally slack, naturalistic style.

"Our influences were a lot of these seventies films where things have a little bit more room to breathe," Ansari explained. "Now I think the instinct is just so fast-paced. We wanted to slow it down," he said, citing influences such as Woody Allen, Hal Ashby, The Heartbreak Kid, and The Graduate. He complimented Richard Linklater's Before trilogy for its "natural-sounding dialogue."

"No, no one cares. It doesn't matter what the ethnicity of these characters is, as long as it's real and funny and good."

As we finished lunch, our conversation returned to "Indians on TV." The episode opens with a brutal montage of Indian caricatures in media, ranging from Ashton Kutcher hawking potato chips in brownface to that guy who eats chilled monkey brains in Indiana Jones. Next we see Dev and Ravi's auditions for a role as a cab driver. When asked to read in an accent, Ravi, played by Patel, is fine with it, but Dev protests and isn't called back. A little later, the two are vying for spots on a sitcom but are flatly told, "There can't be two."

"My favorite thing about it's proving the point the whole time," Ansari said. "It's saying no, no one cares. It doesn't matter what the ethnicity of these characters is, as long as it's real and funny and good."

What carries Master of None, ultimately, is these moments when one senses a funny yet piercing truth in the scenarios, a kind of personal testimony. At their best, these moments deliver something reminiscent of the hilarious yet searing social critiques of Chris Rock and Louis CK, two of Ansari's comedy heroes, but are also original in their mash-up of immigrant narratives and cultural issues such as gender privilege and stereotyping in the media.

"That opening scene of me at the audition, like, that's real," Ansari admitted toward the end of our meal. "You go into an audition and you see all these Indian guys there and you're like, 'Oh, I get it. I know what this is going to be.' And someone asks you do to an audition in an accent, it's a weird moment. And you do have to decide if you're going to do it or not. Some people are comfortable with doing it; other people are not. We tried to get all the kinds of perspectives."

As we left the restaurant, Ansari came across a friend, a well-dressed Asian-American woman around his age. They'd been chatting before we sat down for lunch, and I had apologized for interrupting them.

"Oh, don't worry about it," she'd replied. "I get to see him all the time." With the success of Master of None likely meaning greater opportunities for Ansari, and perhaps others from underrepresented groups, America might also be so lucky.

Follow James Yeh on Twitter.

Nativity illustration by Stephen Maurice Graham, originally commissioned for a very different feature

"Do you run a Christmas gift guide?" You'll be surprised how many times I've been asked this question, in recent months. Three—which is three more than I had last year, when I didn't do this gig full time. Which goes to prove, perhaps, that video games are more consumables than culture, more kitchen appliances than art. Argue that amongst yourselves, or don't, it's your time you're wasting.

Anyway, these questions got me thinking: what do I need a guide for? I've never needed one for shopping, for buying presents for friends and family—though I dare say that both wish that I had. (Always keep the receipts.) But I have used guides for role-playing video games. Definitely Final Fantasy VII, possibly others. (OK, I've flicked through them in GAME, and that's enough.) And because I just replayed The Warlock of Firetop Mountain, which you can read about here, a little light bulb went off in this otherwise blacker-than-midnight brain of mine: a choose-your-own-adventure guide to buying the right games console this Christmas. Do it, the little voice in my head urged. Do it. And, naively, I did. Have "fun."

1

Do you actually want a new video games console?

Yes: go to 6
No: go to 3
Consoles? Ha! Baby toys. Buy a PC, you imbeciles: go to 15

2

Excellent. You're in the market for a second, then? There's only one choice, really: Nintendo's Wii U. Yes, I know, it's not as fast as that other box of buzzing and whirring noises and flashing lights you've got sat under or on top of or just beside your HD tellybox, and it lacks the third-party support of the PS4 and Xbone, which means no Metal Gear Solid and no Witcher and no Fallout. But the Wii U's exclusive games represent the best exclusive games available right now.

I can guarantee you that 30 minutes of online play in Splatoon will fill you with more cheer than three hours in the company of Black Ops III's multiplayer deathmatches. OK, I can't guarantee that—but if you legitimately prefer bloody headshots and wall-runs over squashing squiddy foes with giant paint rollers while attempting to splatter ink across as much of a shopping mall or art gallery as you can inside three minutes, you're a decaying husk of a human being. And Super Mario Maker is the single greatest does-what-it-says-on-the-tin game of this generation. Did you grow up dreaming of creating your own Mushroom Kingdom levels? Now, you can. And it's amazing. There are millions of levels online, right now, built by other players for complete strangers on the other side of the world to die in, repeatedly. I can't get enough of it.

Buy a Wii U. Just do it. You can play all the old Wii games on it, too, like the amazing Super Mario Galaxy and that Zelda game with all the waving about and Wii Sports, so all that Xbone backwards compatibility noise? Yeah, Nintendo trumped it at launch.

I'd really rather own anything but a Wii U, sorry: go to 12
I'm sold: go to 16

3

There's a video game for every kind of person under this shared sun of ours that will one day wipe out life as we know it, but fine. I can't help you. Here are some articles about furries.

4

Well, both the PS4 and Xbone run Fallout 4 just fine, in case you change your mind. We should probably find out what you do like.

Yeah, OK: go to 11

5

You want to play Uncharted, is what you're saying. That's as close a game as I can think of that adheres to a summer blockbuster format, only longer* and with more quick-time events. The next Uncharted, the fourth "proper" one, A Thief's End, is out in March 2016 and exclusive to PS4. If you can't wait that long, Rise of the Tomb Raider is essentially the same thing, but with a greater emphasis on (optional) puzzles and better ponytails, and currently exclusive to Xbone—but it will be on PS4 by the end of 2016. Neither of the two games is likely to pose a substantial challenge for the most beginner-level gamer, as both are designed to be played to their storyline climaxes. (*Future Michael Bay movies may trouble this, mind.)

Licensed products wise, Batman: Arkham Knight is great if you can get to grips with some dodgy vehicle combat – it's equally impressive on either console, but for the love of all you hold dear don't bother sticking it into a PC – and Mad Max, which is nothing to do with Fury Road whatsoever (apart from that very small thing about that guy, but never mind), is a graphical stunner even as it plays within predictable parameters. Now, are we done here, or what?

Nope: go to 11
I can't bear any more of this, and have made my decision: go to 16

New on VICE Sports: The Cult: Gareth Southgate

6

Excellent, let's get this convoluted show on the virtual road. We're not actually going anywhere, you understand. You don't even need to leave your house these days, if you're in the market for a new games console—Other People will bring it to you once you've ordered what you want on the internet. I know, I know. It's the future, right now. Now, to help me help you, I need to know if you already own one of the two, let's say, "main" games consoles on the market as of right now. By which I mean the PlayStation 4 and the Xbox One, or the Xbone as we like to call it around these parts purely because it sounds a bit rude. Do you own either of those consoles?

Yes: go to 2
No: go to 12

7

You and every other bastard on the internet right now, eh? I am so bored of reading about Fallout 4, but that's the nature of the games media, isn't it? Wait for a big game to come out and absolutely rinse the thing until there's nothing left for the player themselves to discover, that hasn't already been given the op-ed treatment by one of those websites where whinging piss-babies go off on one anytime a publisher decides that they've gone and done wrong and takes the appropriate course of action. Sorry, I got a little off track there. Fallout 4's fine. You'll probably like it. How about we find out what else you like?

Yeah, OK: go to 11

8

Personally, I think the Xbox One has the PS4 beat in the racing genre. Its exclusive Forza Motorsport 6, which came out in the autumn of 2015, is several hairpins ahead of what Sony's offering at the moment ("at the moment" meaning "before the next Gran Turismo comes out"). You can also play the multi-platform Project CARS on the Xbone, which is a pretty dry sim when it wants to be, but strip back the realism and it becomes a rollicking arcade-y racer. Naturally, none of this compares to the shells-on-everything rush of Mario Kart 8, but we've already established you don't give a shit about Nintendo, so, what now?

I know what system to buy: go to 16
I'd like you to tell me about something else via this already-getting-tired format: go to 11

9

My personal favorite game of the year, The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, is essentially what a Game of Thrones video game should be. It's that sort of vaguely low-fantasy, grit-and-gore (melo)drama set against a basic gameplay system that cribs from Rockstar's horses-for-muscle-cars Red Dead Redemption, takes out the guns and lets you spit fire from your fingertips instead. It's brilliant. I have put more hours into it than any other game of 2015 and I challenge you to hate it. You can't. It's bloody wonderful.

Some will argue The Witcher's not as good as Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain when it comes to this year's most enveloping open-world games, but, y'know, they're wrong. The new Metal Gear is really good too, though, and just like Wild Hunt, it's pretty much the same whether you play it on Xbone or PS4. Somebody on YouTube has inevitably published a frame-rate comparison video, sliding one screen up against the other with a little wobbly graph thing bouncing around atop the two, so if you're a total dullard you can click across to that and really get a steer on which machine will deliver the optimum performance. But, honestly, the odd bit of slow down is very unlikely to affect your enjoyment of any game, unless it's set in Gotham. So if it's immersive role-playing games you love, both consoles have you covered. Sold yet?

Yep: go to 16
I'm still browsing: go to 11

10

Congratulations, you're the worst. Just kidding. I get that some people just want to play the stuff that everyone else in the entire world is playing, and that's cool—you can always get a match going online, which is more than can be said for Mario Tennis: Ultra Smash. Both the PS4 and the Xbone play FIFA and CoD real good. And if that's all you need, I guess you're sold?

Absolutely: go to 16
Actually, maybe I want to try something a little different: go to 11

11

Which is? (And if you've been here before, don't select an option you've already read or you'll be stuck in an everlasting loop of scrolling up and down and arriving at nowhere.)

Racing games: go to 8
Role-playing games that have more swords than Fallout 4: go to 9
Call of Duty and FIFA games, every year, without fail: go to 10
Action games which are basically movies but I press buttons: go to 5
I've heard about these "indie games": go to 13
What about console exclusives, like that one with the mustaches: go to 14

12

OK, you should probably buy either a PS4 or Xbox One, as while I love Nintendo's Wii U a little too much—I mean, look at how cute it is, and a whole bunch of its first-party games are just adorable—unless your blood flows red one way and green the other because Mario and Luigi are both your dad, you're going to be left wanting when the Big Shootybangs and Epic Adventures and Realistic Racers come along. The Wii U doesn't have those. It has Super Mario Maker and Splatoon and a bunch of other games you can play when there's a small child in the room, but no Fallout 4. And, be fair, you want a console that can run Fallout 4, right?

Nah: go to 4
Sure: go to 7

Article continues after the video below

Watch VICE's documentary on the world of eSports

13

I'm not about to get into the deeper details or debate around what is and what isn't an "indie" game – but both the Xbone and the PS4 (and the Wii U, for that matter) have their share of titles available that aren't made by massive teams with towering piles of money. Some of these indie games are platform-exclusive affairs, so it's worth checking out reviews and footage before deciding which is the right machine for you. (I mean, you should do that, anyway. Do your research. Don't buy a new console just because I tell you to. I'm not your dad. Probably.)

Microsoft's gigantic brick has Ori and the Blind Forest, a beautiful platformer that is as visually spectacular as it is pad-tossingly difficult at times, and coming up are a couple of potential crackers: Below is a top-down role-player that's promising Dark Souls levels of combat challenge and survival know-how, and Cuphead is a side-scrolling run-and-gun game that looks like it came right off a page at Disney in the 1940s.

On the PS4 you've already got the stealthy Volume, the action-RPG Transistor and the turn-based strategy of Invisible, Inc, all of which are worth investigating – and in 2016 comes the PS4-exclusive indie game that could change everything, No Man's Sky. Want to know about anything else?

Obviously: go to 11
Nah, I'm done and I've made my decision: go to 16

14

Now this is a battleground so littered with bodies from previous console wars that it's hard to get a true read of the lay of the land. However, with both the PS4 and Xbone now two years into their rivalry, a few gems have emerged. There's dross, obviously. Knack, on the PS4, is just... Look, just don't, OK? And then there's LocoCycle on the One, which takes your absolute lowest expectations for a game about a sentient motorbike dragging a mechanic around and stamps that already-don't-care understanding into the dirt until it's wholly unrecognisable. Both consoles have a handful of mid-tier titles worth a go if you're completely desperate—The Order: 1886 (fantastic facial hair) and Ryse: Son of Rome (shiny shields and swords) certainly look good while playing entirely ordinarily, on PS4 and Xbone respectively. Which brings us to the essentials.

FromSoftware's gothic masterpiece Bloodborne is easily the standout PS4 exclusive of 2015, closely followed by the entirely under-hyped horror of Until Dawn, while the remastered version of the PS3's The Last of Us is a must-play-no-seriously-I-mean-it for when the properly new adventures are on pause. My favourite online multiplayer game of 2015, the jet-powered cars-playing-football hilarity of Rocket League, is PS4 only when it comes to consoles (for now). On the Xbone, the timed exclusivity of the Uncharted-alike Rise of the Tomb Raider makes it a platform-specific best in show, for now, and you've also got Halo 5: Guardians and next year's Gears of War 4 never going blue. Pays your money, takes your choice – assessed purely on exclusives, the two machines are fairly neck and neck, right now. Need to know anything more?

Please, if you don't mind: go to 11
My decision is made: go to 16

15

You terrific bore.

16

I'm happy for you. Have all the joy with your new games console.

I appreciate that I could have gone into detail about the hardware, what pad feels better five hours into a session, and which machine streams that episode of Doctor Who you missed last Saturday with no hiccups, but mostly, who cares? You're in this for the games. Those are what matter, and if you're one of these weird partisan freaks who'll only ever buy consoles bearing a certain brand, with no regard given to what fun you can or can't have with it, then more fool you. Course, the correct thing to do is to own all three consoles, so maybe don't eat properly for a few months. It's almost Christmas: steal leftovers from every party, freeze those scraps, and spend what you save across the beginning of 2016 on video games. You'll thank me come March when you're not only a level 39 Witcher, but those Easter Eggs have never tasted so delicious.

Follow Mike on Twitter.

Plastic surgeons, twin brothers Maurizio and Roberto Viel

Richard Jones, a journalist from Bromsgrove, England, is talking about his penis.

"I'm looking at it in the mirror now," he says down the phone. "It hangs almost half way to my knees. If you think of a tin of Right Guard aerosol, it's like that but a bit fatter. If I try and put my thumb and first finger round it, they don't meet."

He pauses for a moment. Then decides he hasn't quite offered enough detail.

"The first time my husband saw it, his expression was just terror. Safe to say, he very much likes it now."

Richard is one of a growing number of men who have had a penis enlargement. He paid £7,000 last October for a pair of London surgeons to augment him. Firstly, they sliced open the pubis and severed a ligament so that his manhood hangs an extra inch and half longer, to six inches flaccid. Secondly, they removed a quantity of fat from his stomach and injected it into the shaft of the penis to increase the girth by about two inches. Erect, it's worth noting, it's remained roughly the same size as before.

The whole operation lasted little more than an hour and Richard was able to have sex again within a month. Today, he says he has no visible sign of scarring.

"I was never small, but I thought it would be nice to have it done," shrugs the 39-year-old. "And it's improved my confidence so much. It's a lovely feeling, walking into a room and thinking, If we all got our cocks out here, I'd have the biggest. I see people in the gym showers checking it out. My only regret is I didn't have it done ten years earlier."

Penis enlargement is—and there's no way of avoiding the pun here—a fast-growing business. The increasing availability of pornography, the rise of advertising that features the male crotch—think David Beckham in his underwear, or Cristiano Ronaldo in his underwear, or Rafael Nadal in his underwear—and the ubiquitous spam emails telling us all we need to be bigger downstairs has, so the theory goes, created a generation of men anxious about what they're packing. One study carried out at King's College, London, found that a third of us stress over it.

All of this has led, according to the International Society of Aesthetic Plastic Surgery, to some 15,000 enlargements taking place worldwide every year, up from way under a thousand just four years ago. Which is why I am here at the London Centre for Aesthetic Surgery, the clinic of doctors Maurizio and Roberto Viel.

The twin brothers from Italy are largely acknowledged as Europe's finest penis boosters. Together, they have been performing what they term penoplasty operations since 1991. The pair—who both have medical degrees from the University of Milan—were the first surgeons to offer the service outside the US.

"It actually started with a girl coming into our clinic and asking if we could make her boyfriend's penis bigger," remembers Dr. Maurizio. "This was a request we had not heard before, but she'd read about it being done in America. So we looked into it and decided this was a service we could provide. The funny thing is the girl never came back. Maybe she split from him. Maybe he was less keen."

"Some men, as soon as they finish sex and lose their erection, they cover up immediately because they don't want to show their partner the flaccid penis. They feel embarrassed. That's no way to live."
—Maurizio Viel

Today, the pair perform more than 400 such operations a year at their two clinics in Dubai and London's Harley Street. They make more than a million pounds per annum from the procedures. Men from across Europe and Asia come to them, and there is no stereotypical patient, they say. Customers include everyone from high earners to the unemployed; gay, straight, young, old, and all nationalities.

"We had an African gentlemen visit us recently," says Maurizio. "And his size... I had to say to him, 'This is not a penis that needs making any longer, this is just fine how it is.' We ended up compromising and I gave him a little more girth."

The pair won't operate on anyone under 18 and tend to turn down anyone in their late teens or early twenties. "They are so young," says Roberto. "I say to them, 'Go out and use it first.' Then, if they're still unhappy in a couple of years, come back and we'll talk more. We have a duty of care to our patients. We don't just operate on anyone. We look into the reasons why they want this done and, only when we're certain this is not a psychological issue, only then do we proceed."

Which raises the key question here: Why exactly do so many guys want their dicks enlarged?

"To feel more confident," says Maurizio. "It's the same rationale as behind a woman wanting bigger breasts. These guys feel better in themselves to know they're bigger. Some men, as soon as they finish sex and lose their erection, they cover up immediately because they don't want to show their partner the flaccid penis. They feel embarrassed. That's no way to live."

Would they have it done themselves? I ask. There's a pause.

"If I felt it was something I wanted, yes," nods Maurizio. "Personally, though, I'm not the biggest—I admit that—but what I have is enough for me. I think, with sex, quality is as important as quantity."

Another pause.

"I've had a nose job—Roberto did it. So maybe when I'm 80 years old I will do this, just to try something new. Why not?"

A promotional image for the documentary 'Big Like Me,' in which Gregory Bergman tries a range of penis enlargement options

A penis enlargement is arguably more important for some men than others. One of the most common conditions the Viels see are guys with what's medically called a micro-penis.

"These are so small they do not hang below the scrotum," explains Roberto. "Some, they are like a button. You'd be surprised. It's not very common but it happens. For these men, the surgery is really very necessary. For them, we are offering a life-changing service."

The optimum penis size, the brothers reckon, is "whatever makes you happy." But if someone came in asking for, say, a 12-inch upgrade, they would tell them this was impossible.

"The lengthening operation—the cutting of the ligament—allows you to only extend a penis by two inches at most," says Maurizio. "If a surgeon promises you more, they are misleading you. Theoretically you can keep increasing the girth, but too much will lead to the penis being too heavy, causing erectile problems in later life. It needs to be done in moderation."

There can be complications, too. The doctors say that 90 percent of their patients leave—like Richard—delighted with the results. I speak to one other guy from Leeds who asks not to be named. He tells me that having "a cock like a can of Foster's is probably the best thing about me."

Nonetheless, issues can arise. An elongated penis rarely retains the same angle of erection post-op. Scarring occasionally remains visible under the pubic hair. Infections have been known occur. The pain in the first couple of weeks can be considerable—especially if the patient becomes erect.

"This is why we prescribe a drug to stop this happening," says Roberto. "Plus, we tell the patient: 'Stay away from the wife.' Do complications happen? Very occasionally. The important thing is that we deal with them right. The key thing—the thing that men are most bothered about—is will it work properly after the operation. And yes, it will. There is no doubt of that."

Related: Watch 'The Digital Love Industry,' our film about the ways that technology is changing sex.

Do they not worry that they are feeding on male insecurity? I ask. Did they really work through medical degrees for this?

"We don't save lives, this is true," says Maurizio. "But we do improve the quality of them. We make people feel better about themselves. We transform their confidence. You only have one life and there's no point spending it unhappily. I feel we're doing a good thing here."

As I think back to Richard and his husband and their delight at the results, there seems little arguing with that.

"It's very satisfying when you've completed an operation," nods Maurizio. "It's nice to look at a penis and know you've made it more pleasing."

Follow Colin Drury on Twitter.