Photo via Flickr user GotCredit

Read: Meet the Americans Who Moved to Europe and Went AWOL on Their Student Loans

For years, millennials have been derided as lazy, narcissistic leaches whose spoiled upbringing has left them ungrateful for the world of technological wonders they've been born into. But a new Guardian investigation into data about incomes in Western countries has found that young people have reason to complain—in seven wealthy nations in particular, they're statistically destined to end up worse off financially than their parents. In the US, young people are now poorer than retirees.

The Guardian reported that even as the incomes of young people in countries like the US, Canada, Australia, and France have declined, the fortunes of older people have increased. "It is likely to be the first time in industrialised history, save for periods of war or natural disaster, that the incomes of young adults have fallen so far when compared with the rest of society," according to the Guardian.

The newspaper mentions debt, joblessness, and the rising cost of housing as among the problems causing the phenomenon. It's also worth noting that the in the seven countries, the growth in incomes for people in their 20s has been well below the national averages for three decades—meaning this can't simply be blamed on the financial crash of 2008.

Long story short: This is likely to be an economic disaster that is showing no signs of abating.

It's hard to tell how this will affect society as millennials age into the time of life when previous generations have bought houses and acquired wealth. But anecdotally, it's obvious that the kids aren't all right and they know it. If this Guardian report doesn't make you more sympathetic to kids who've fled to Berlin to dodge student debt, it at least explains why half of your Facebook news feed is made up of memes for Bernie Sanders.

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Emad El-Sayed. Photo via the Free Emad El-Sayed Facebook group

On February 3, months after Donald Trump announced his intentions to prevent Muslims from entering the United States, 24-year-old Emad El-Sayed logged onto Facebook. He posted a photo of Trump, along with a comment suggesting he "wouldn't mind serving a life sentence for killing this guy," and that in doing so, he'd be "doing the world a favor."

El-Sayed, who is Muslim and Egyptian, was in the United States on a student visa, and was studying at the Universal Air Academy in Los Angeles. When the flight academy saw the post, it reported him to federal officials and revoked his I-20, the document showing school support for a student visa. Without his I-20, his student visa was null, and he was in violation of his terms of admission to the United States.

While the post hardly seems like a legitimate threat, jokes in poor taste posted on social media have, in many cases, jeopardized immigrants' legal status in the United States.

"Immigration officers are absolutely looking at social media," said Danielle M. Claffey, an immigration attorney for Kuck Immigration Partners in Atlanta, Georgia. "We've come to realize that, when it comes to immigration issues, the government will definitely use social media to investigate an individual."

Claffey said that five years ago, social media wasn't on her radar in terms of immigration. But today, as the internet becomes increasingly interlaced with security threats and terrorism, it comes up in every part of immigration investigations.

Matthew Kolken, an immigration attorney in Buffalo, New York, told me immigration officers "routinely review social media in making assessments of eligibility for immigration status, or alternatively, if they are planning on charging someone with a violation of immigration law."

Mostly, they're looking for evidence of fraud, inconsistencies in someone's testimony, or illegal activity. According to Kolken, even something like a photo on Facebook showing someone doing illegal drugs can be grounds to deny someone's visa application. "I've seen that happen in the past, where the client had pictures of illegal activity" he told me. "The government brought print-outs from social media into court."

"If an American citizen made a similar comment—and I'm sure many have—those comments aren't a problem." — Danielle M. Claffey

As for immigrants who are already in the United States, El-Sayed isn't the first to have his immigration status challenged because of a threat made online. In December 2014, Keshav Mukund Bhide, a 24-year-old from India, was deported after he posted on Google+ about planning a campus shooting at the University of Washington. Earlier this month, Hanxiang Ni, a 22-year-old Chinese student at the University of Iowa, was deported because of a post on Weibo, which, according to the Daily Iowan, threatened to "let professors experience the fear of Lu Gang." (Lu Gang, a Chinese graduate student, was the shooter in a 1991 campus shooting at the University of Iowa.)

With cases of security, though, it's not always clear what constitutes a legitimate threat and what's just a joke. In 2012, a pair of Irish tourists were denied entry to the United States after one of them tweeted: "Free this week for a quick gossip/prep before I go and destroy America?"

El-Sayed, for his part, told reporters that what he wrote on Facebook was just "a stupid post," without any real threat attached. But immigration attorneys say the line between a joke and a threat is razor thin.

"I've seen things like this rise to the level where aren't a problem."

On Vice News: What It's Like to Be Violently Deported from the UK

El-Sayed's case is complicated by the fact that he was enrolled in a flight academy, many of which have been on high alert since 9/11 hijackers learned to fly planes at American flight schools.

" were really under the microscope for several years after 9/11, because of who they admitted to their schools," said Gregory Suskind, an immigration attorney. "I can kind of understand why a flight school might be hypersensitive to those kinds of statements, but I think that it was probably an overreaction," said Suskind, who added that, to him, El-Sayed's post "just sounded like political commentary."

Suskind and other immigration attorneys I spoke to reiterated that anything their clients post on social media can be used against them. Kolken said immigrants and those seeking entry to the United States shouldn't do anything illegal that would jeopardize their immigration status, and "if they put something on the internet, it's forever and it can be potentially used against them."

In a hearing today, El-Sayed's legal team requested a voluntary departure, which would allow him to leave the United States without the black mark of deportation on his record. That requested was granted, and a representative from his attorney's office confirmed that he will soon board an Egypt Air flight back to Cairo.

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Photo via Flickr user Ted Eytan

Read: My Husband's Sperm and the Lesbians Who Want It

On Monday, the US Supreme Court unanimously reversed a decision by the highest court in Alabama denying a lesbian mother joint custody of her three children, as USA Today reports.

After one woman identified in court documents only as EL gave birth to three children via a donor in Georgia, she and her partner—VL—moved to Alabama, where they subsequently split. Georgia courts later granted VL custody and visitation. But in September, Alabama's Supreme Court decided to deny her those rights, suggesting Georgia had messed up by allowing the adoption to go through in the first place.

There are an estimated 65,000 adopted children nationwide living with a gay or lesbian parent, according to the Williams Institute at UCLA. Rather than making the case about social progress, though, VL's lawyers successfully argued Alabama was infringing the Constitution's "faith and credit" clause by declining to respect or accept the ruling of a judge in another state.

"I am overjoyed that the US Supreme Court reversed the Alabama court decision," VL said Monday, according to NBC News. "I have been my children's mother in every way for their whole lives. I thought that adopting them meant that we would be able to be together always. The Supreme Court has done what's right for my family."

The ruling comes a little over eight months after the Supreme Court decided same-sex marriage is a constitutionally-guaranteed right across America.

Out of nowhere on Tuesday night, around 8 PM, Alex Arevalos, a student and graphic designer in Alhambra, California, ten miles east of downtown Los Angeles, heard a single, loud thud.

He immediately asked his sister if she'd slapped his bedroom wall. "She said she didn't, so I automatically blamed the train," Arevalos, who lives near train tracks, told VICE.

Then on Thursday around midnight, two similar sounds woke up Arevalos's father, and when father and son spoke about it in the morning, the younger Arevalos became convinced it was something abnormal. "This time as soon as I heard it, and heard the walls shake a bit, I listened for the train, but didn't hear anything," adding, "I can tell the difference now living in Alhambra, every other night or so I hear a loud explosion-like noise," she wrote. Soon, other nextdoor.com users shared similar experiences with the booms, according to Alhambra Source.

Two nights later, Alhambra Police Department posted about the booms on Facebook. Just after 8 PM, officers received reports of "a loud explosion heard in the northern end of our city." The police wrote that they've received multiple similar reports in recent weeks, but that "unfortunately, we were unable to locate the origin."

"We are as puzzled as everyone," Jerry Johnson, the Alhambra police sergeant, told VICE. He said two on-duty officers heard the booms recently, and they rushed toward the source, arriving just 90 seconds after the sound dissipated.

"And then nothing," Johnson said.

In the comments of an Alhambra PD Facebook post, one Facebook user named Anthony Ruiz called the booms, "much too loud to be a firework." Another user named Christopher Keller described them as akin to a sonic boom, saying he felt a "pressure wave." But he added that they were too close to be sonic booms. An isolated series of sonic booms shook New Jersey in late January—but that was an isolated incident brought on by several fighter jets breaking the sound barrier around the same time above the area.

Chris Paulson, the administrative services director for the city of Alhambra, also called it a "sonic boom type of sound," made all the more strange by the fact that it's being reported across an unusually wide area. "We've investigated, and it's probably about a mile north to south," he told VICE.

According to Alhambra Source, there are construction projects going on in the area, but the local public works department "does not believe that the projects are the source of the noises." According to Paulson, that's because, "there's simply no construction going on when those noises are heard."

VICE contacted a municipal consulting company called Transtech, an engineering firm that contracts for Alhambra, inspecting safety concerns at city construction projects. Transtech's Alhambra city building official, Ayla Jefferson, told us she had heard of the booms, but has "no knowledge" of their origin.

Meanwhile, the booms continue unabated. For Arevalo, they've become part of life in Alhambra. He described the most recent explosions he heard as "just kind of there." Since he's been living near a train for 13 years, he says he's become accustomed to noise in general, adding that "the only thing affecting my sleep is school."

But not everyone is tuning out the booms. According to Sergeant Johnson, "We're getting calls on this two or three times a day."

"It is a mystery," said Paulson.

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"Why the fuck did you think using me to conduct toxicity tests was a good idea in the first place?" —This beagle. Photo via Flickr user Timothy Fenn

Hug your pet: Health Canada is ending its requirement to test pesticides on animals.

Read: How Rikers Island Became the Most Notorious Jail in America

Twenty-year-old Sean Chung was arrested last month after prosecutors said he recorded a rap video threatening to kill Queens District Attorney Richard Brown, as the New York Daily News reports. One week after he was moved into the notorious jail complex on Rikers Island, two inmates stabbed Chung multiple times in the head.

He was later treated at a nearby hospital.

Now Chung's lawyer is arguing the kid nearly lost his life over lyrics recorded years ago—long before he was charged with conspiring to kill rival gang members.

"The song predates his arrest. He's been rapping since he was 15, he was arrested at 18," attorney Audrey Thomas told the paper. "Whatever happened to the First Amendment?"

Rikers has long been plagued by violence and scandal, so news of a stabbing incident on the island is not surprising in and of itself. But it does show the high stakes of getting remanded to jail over music lyrics. "He wouldn't have been stabbed if he wasn't in jail," Thomas told the DailyNews.

At the time of his initial arrest in April 2014, prosecutors said Chung belonged to Queens' SNOW Gang, and that, along with 30 fellow gang members, he plotted to kill two enemies. He was released on bail, but in November 2015, the 20-year-old apparently posted a YouTube video where, taking on the persona "JP Smoov," he raps, "Tell the judge to get off my cock, put the DA in a box."

That was enough for Queens Supreme Court Justice Robert Kohm to lock him up.

Thomas insists her client is now on the righteous path—back in school and even on the religious tip (he had a Protestant baptism scheduled for February 28). And she's not the only NYC criminal defense lawyer opposed to casting such a broad net on troubled youth.

"Gang membership is a shibboleth they trot out when they have a horseshit case," says hard-charging Brooklyn defense attorney Howard Greenberg, who briefly represented the rapper Bobby Shmurda, another (much more prominent) MC recently confined to Rikers. "Rap lyrics are another shibboleth prosecutors trot out when they have a horseshit case."

Chung faces 25 years to life if convicted of the original murder conspiracy charge.

Photo via Flickr user COP PARIS

Michael Bloomberg, the billionaire former New York City mayor who has moonlighted as a will-he-or-won't-he potential independent presidential candidate for a decade, has decided not to run for president, he announced through his eponymous news website on Monday.

Bloomberg has always been cast by himself and his most ardent supporters as a serious, technocratic centrist. So it makes sense that in his announcement that he was not doing anything, he made sure to emphasize all his serious centrist credentials. He didn't simply say, "I'm not running," but penned a long, bloviating op-ed column about how America is so broken, how he could fix it, why "many Americans" have told him that it is his "patriotic duty" to run for president, and why he must regretfully let all those Americans down very badly.

"When I look at the data, it's clear to me that if I entered the race, I could not win," Bloomberg writes. By his reckoning, "in a three-way race, it's unlikely any candidate would win a majority of electoral votes, and then the power to choose the president would be taken out of the hands of the American people and thrown to Congress." The House and Senate are of course run by Republicans, and would almost certainly pick the GOP nominee, whether that was Donald Trump or Ted Cruz.

"That is not a risk I can take in good conscience," Bloomberg explains.

Polls that included Bloomberg in three-way match-ups of possible candidates varied widely, with one showing him garnering 29 percent of the vote nationally and another only giving him only 9 percent. But the idea that his campaign would cause a deadlock that could only be resolved by an unprecedented-in-modern-times congressional vote is a strange one, to put it mildly.

For one thing, the last time a third-party candidate earned electoral college votes was in 1968, when segregationist George Wallace won several Southern states. Since then, every much-hyped interloper, from Independent Ross Perot to Green Ralph Nader, has come up empty. (Perot won nearly 19 percent of the popular vote in 1992, but didn't win a single state.)

Bloomberg's other problem, of course, is that his idiosyncratic platform seemed designed to make him unelectable.

He's pro-choice and anti-gun, meaning that a huge swath of right-leaning voters would hate him. He's also not only a billionaire but a longtime friend of Wall Street types who helped Goldman Sachs get $1.65 billion in exchange for putting its headquarters near Ground Zero—which would make him the enemy of every Bernie Sanders fan as well as all those Trump supporters who think hedge fund elites are screwing over the little guy.

Then there was his court-defeated ban on large sodas in NYC, which was intended to reduce obesity but would likely (and sort of already did) play nationally as the bizarre brainchild of an out-of-touch plutocrat. "Have you seen the size of the sodas they drink in the middle of the country?" one Cruz supporter told New York magazine recently when asked about Bloomberg's potential run.

The great dream of centrists like Bloomberg and the failed third party Americans Elect is that there are a huge number of voters dissatisfied with the two-party system and ready for a candidate determined to end partisan gridlock. But the 2016 campaign is showing that even though voters hate the two-party system, they would rather try to blow it up by way of Trump or Sanders than settle for a dude who is sort of like a Democrat, only richer.

This Friday, March 11, HBO will air another episode from season four of VICE's Emmy-winning show. Last week, we explored the environmental implications associated with industrial meat production and the global water crisis. This week, we go to the front lines of the civil war in Yemen and investigate the legal inequalities LGBT people still face in America.

In the first segment, Ben Anderson returns to Yemen. The country has descended into a bloody civil war and has become yet another front in the broader sectarian war between Iran and Saudi Arabia. While there, he embeds with Yemen's rebel fighters to investigate Saudi Arabia's role in the conflict.Then, Gianna Toboni goes inside the fight for LGBT rights in the US—where it is still legal to fire employees for being gay in 31 states—and examines the Jim Crow–style laws that still stand in the way of true equality.

Watch a trailer for Friday's episode above, and keep an eye out for the rest of season four, airing every Friday night at 11 PM, exclusively on HBO. If you're desperately in need of more VICE episodes to carry you through the week, you can watch our entire third season online now.

This article originally appeared on VICE Greece.

A Home for Human Rights is an initiative run by Greek immigrants' rights organization METAdrasi that aims to provide temporary homes to unaccompanied child refugees. Until they find another warm, safe place to stay, these children are placed in various METAdrasi centers around Greece and spend a lot of their time drawing their stories. The organization has provided us with some of these drawings, which you can view below.

If you are interested in the program or can offer an unaccompanied minor a safe space, click here.

A STEN machine gun allegedly offered for sale at a Florida poker game last year. Photo via handout

Last fall, Antonio Rossello joined a round of poker being held at an eggshell-colored house with a generously grassy front yard in Miami Gardens, Florida. At one point during the card game, the 41-year-old welder befriended another player and pitched his side-business selling guns, according to a criminal complaint filed in Miami federal court.

Rossello pulled out a fully automatic STEN machine gun and offered to sell the weapon to the man, the complaint says. Over half a century ago, British-made STENs were used to mow down Nazis and communist soldiers during World War II and the Korean War, respectively. Rossello showed the player a photo on his cell phone of a pistol with a silencer and said he had other guns in his inventory, along with hand grenades and C-4 explosives, the criminal complaint alleges.

The prospective customer turned out to be a confidential informant who helped special agents from the the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms (ATF) set up four undercover purchases from Rossello. Between October 29 of last year and this past January 8, Rossello sold the snitch three STENs, one "untraceable" pistol, and more than a hundred rounds of ammunition, including bullets that could pierce protective vests, the complaint states.

The transactions netted Rossello just $7,300.

On January 28, Rossello was charged with several felony counts: unlicensed firearms dealing, possession of a machine gun, possession of an unregistered firearm, unlawful transfer of a firearm, and unlawful making of a firearm. His bust was the result of an initiative launched by the the US attorney's office in southern Florida way back in 2011. But the case against Rossello provides a rare look into the murky world of private gun sales in Florida, a state with a storied history of passing laws that protect firearm owners and prop up gun manufacturers amid a growing national conversation about mass shootings and gun violence.

"This case is representative of why Obama issued his executive action" in January, says Lindsay Nichols, senior attorney for the Law Center to Prevent Gun Violence. "Because the definition of a person engaging the business of selling firearms is not that clear, prosecutors are often reluctant to pursue such cases."

Obama's action clarifies that anyone in the gun selling business, whether from a store, a gun show, or on the internet, must conduct background checks. In addition, the president made it clear that a person can be considered an unlicensed firearms dealer even if he or she just sells one or two guns, according to Andrew Patrick, a spokesman for Washington, DC's Coalition to Stop Gun Violence.

"Let's say there is a farmer's market where people sell guns," Patrick explains. "If they take credit cards and have business cards, then it is obviously more than just a hobby. Before the executive action, the definition of a private seller was kind of vague."

Prosecutors have historically had a tough time convicting illegal gun dealers because federal law allows a person who occasionally sells, exchanges, and purchases firearms for the enhancement of a personal collection or for a hobby to do so without a federal license, according to Nichols. "Law enforcement officers have to pose as buyers or use confidential informants to gauge if a person is really selling guns as a business and not a hobby," she says. "One sale is rarely enough to bring a case against a person."

Mark Kleiman, professor emeritus of public policy at the UCLA School of Public Affairs, says clarifying the definition of a private seller engaged in the gun business is important because a third of all gun sales in the US are not conducted by licensed dealers. But Kleiman believes prosecutors already have a strong case against Rossello—even if Obama had not passed his executive order.

"There is no need to change the law to deal with him," Kleiman tells me after reviewing the criminal complaint. "This guy was straight up gun trafficking."

According to the complaint, Rossello sold the confidential informant the four guns at three locations: the poker house, a service plaza on the Florida Turnpike, and the welder's own home in Lake Worth. When ATF agents and police officers from the Palm Beach County Sheriff's Office executed a search warrant at Rossello's place on January 28, they confiscated another fully automatic machine gun.

In a video-recorded interview with investigators the same day, Rossello admitted to selling the firearms to the snitch and that the STEN machine guns had been manufactured by his boss's son, Todd Vanlinda. Rossello added that he and Vanlinda test-fired a STEN in a back area of the Lake Worth headquarters of Vanlinda Iron Works, where he was employed, according to the complaint. He also told investigators he'd seen kits for building firearms inside a concrete shed at Vanlinda's house.

Vanlinda was arrested later that same day and charged with possession of a machine gun and possession of an unregistered firearm. During a search of his house, agents confiscated a MP-40 fully automatic machine gun that was in a safe on the property's patio.

During a recent visit to the Lake Worth headquarters of Vanlinda Iron Works, a snowy-haired man with a Southern accent who would not identify himself declined comment. " doesn't work here," the man said. "Now you have to leave." Attempts to speak to the welder's family were also unsuccessful: A woman who answered the door at Rossello's home declined comment.

Both men are in federal custody pending trial.

In Rossello's case, the feds may have an especially easy road to conviction because he was selling machine guns, which has been prohibited under federal law since 1934. (Last month, the feds slapped Rossello with 13 additional firearms felony violations.) Nichols also notes that private sellers like Rossello take advantage of Florida being one of 18 states that have not closed the so-called "gun-show loophole," allowing private gun sales to take place just about anywhere—without a required background check. (Obama's January executive order encourages private sellers to come out from the shadows, but it is unlikely to change the game, experts say.)

Check out our documentary on gun culture in Florida.

Some Florida counties, like Pinellas, Hillsborough, and Hernando, have passed local laws requiring background checks for private sales at gun shows and exhibitions—but not for transactions conducted online, at someone's home, or in a parking lot. The loophole allows convicted felons and mentally unstable individuals to purchase guns illegally, advocates like Nichols believe. "It enables dangerous people to get guns," she tells me. "States that have closed the loophole have experienced lower rates of homicides and suicides."

Of course, Florida's Second Amendment defenders emphatically disagree. Sean Caranna, executive director of Florida Carry—a nonprofit that "works tirelessly toward repealing and striking down ill-conceived gun control laws"—says there's no ambiguity that Rossello was an illegal arms dealer after he read the complaint. "If the allegations are true, then this is a bad guy who was doing bad things," Caranna says in an interview. "But does that mean all private sellers should be registering their sales and conducting background checks? Absolutely not."

Caranna notes Florida lawmakers passed legislation in 2011 making it a felony for anyone, including law enforcement officials, to maintain a registry of firearms when guns change hands. "These lists can be used by unscrupulous people to target gun owners and steal their firearms," Caranna says. "And it's also meant to stop law enforcement officials from abusing their power by going around collecting firearms from gun owners."

Gun control advocates counter that holding private sellers to the same standards as licensed gun dealers will do more to prevent people who would cause harm from buying firearms.

"Private sales make it incredibly easy for those are ineligible to buy guns—whether a convicted felon or a person on a terrorist watch list—to get them," says Patrick of the Coalition to Stop Gun Violence. "Gun trafficking 101 is to buy a bunch a guns through private sales in a state with weak gun laws."

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Photo by US Fish and Wildlife Service, via Wikimedia Commons

In 2006, Becky Blanton decided to make a radical life change. She wanted adventure, and she set out to be a full-time camper, moving into her van and parking mostly on forest roads. But then she lost her job, and she had no choice but to continue living in her van. She parked on public lands throughout Colorado, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Virginia for a year before she found a stable housing situation.

If she had to be homeless, Blanton said she actually felt safer in the woods than in the city. "The streets are dangerous," she told me. "In the woods you might have bears, but there are enough places to find shelter that you won't have to worry."

Each year, hundreds of people like Blanton spend time living on America's vast federal lands. Some wilderness dwellers consider themselves nomads and choose to live without a fixed address. Some are anti-government separatists of the Oregon militia's ilk. Others fit the more traditional definition of homelessness: They are without a place to live due to personal or economic hardship, and the woods provide them shelter. And while the wide-open land provides space for these people to settle, the presence of long-term campers presents challenges to public land management agencies: Their purpose is land conservation, not housing, and they're not equipped to keep up with the demands of human inhabitancy.

Most of the federal land in the US is managed by the United States Forest Service (USFS) or the Bureau of Land Management (BLM), which oversee over 400 million acres in total. Both agencies allow for dispersed camping, meaning visitors can camp anywhere they want for free (unlike the National Park system, where camping is only allowed in designated areas and usually costs money).

None of these federal land management agencies know just how many people are using public lands residentially, partly because it would be impossible to find and count them all, and partly because numbers fluctuate seasonally due to weather conditions. But according to a recent USFS survey, non-recreational camping is on the rise.

Related: A Growing Movement Is Fighting the Criminalization of Homelessness

"Our officers know the places to look, but some people are really good at hiding," said Chris Boehm, the USFS assistant director of law enforcement. "Just about every place has some story of a guy living out in the woods who we can never find."

The woods can be an attractive option to people who want to live off the grid, or a last resort for those with nowhere else to go. In the past, public lands have specifically been used to house the homeless—like the Umpqua National Forest in southern Oregon, which established a campground exclusively for homeless individuals and families in 1992. The site, named Blodgett, screened residents and arranged limited services, like portable toilets and a school bus service.

At the time, an optimistic Forest Service spokeswoman told the New York Times, "If it works, we may try it elsewhere." That never came to pass. Blodgett closed after a year in operation, having served about 100 people. Cheryl Caplan, Umpqua's public information officer, said the organization had to put up a deposit of $1 million just to get started, in case campers caused a forest fire.

"When visitors come out to the forest we want them to see the trees, the wildlife, the pristine water—not somebody's trash." — Chris Boehm

Fire risk is one thing: Ninety percent of wildfires in the US are caused by humans, and of those, unattended campfires are the most common trigger. In 2014, the USFS spent $320 million fighting its ten biggest fires alone, and fire fighting and prevention programs now make up over half of the USFS budget. Campfire bans are imposed at times of extremely high fire danger, but according to Boehm, these are difficult to enforce when a forest is full of dispersed, long-term campers.

Human waste and trash are another concern. Feces can cause illness or contaminate water if disposed of improperly; trash, which is supposed to be "packed out" of the forest, can build up when a site is occupied long-term. Some campers abandon broken-down vehicles in the forest, or go so far as to build illegal dwellings. "We've had several situations where people have occupied a site for years. That requires overwhelming cleanup," said Boehm.

Plus, he added, "When people don't move frequently enough, that leaves little opportunity for the land to heal and regrow. When visitors come out to the forest we want them to see the trees, the wildlife, the pristine water—not somebody's trash."

Watch: VICE News investigates the growing numbers of homeless people camping in the woods to escape police harassment.

Currently, non-recreational camping is dealt with on a case-by-case basis. Because the types of campers and their reasons for living in forests vary from district to district, local land managers are responsible for making their own plans to address the issue. A common enforcement strategy is to reduce the standard 14-day stay limit where long-term camping becomes an acute problem, which often happens as a result of local housing shortages.

Matt Derrick, founder of Squat the Planet, stayed on BLM land in Montana for several months in 2010. He lived in a converted school bus, which he moved every 14 days to comply with camping rules. "I think 14 days is pretty generous," he said. "In a world where most laws seem to only exist to tax us, protect the rich, or protect us from ourselves, the 14 day rule feels pretty sane, and I feel like it's built to protect these wild lands, so they're there for everyone to enjoy."

Others—like Taylor Werner, who slept outside in national forests from 2005 to 2007—disagree. The 14-day limit, Werner said, "doesn't stop anyone from living indefinitely in national forests. In my experience, it is used as a rationale for unethical behavior while profiling certain types of forest dwellers."

Werner is wary of law enforcement efforts after a string of negative encounters. "I think it's sad if there's nowhere you can go in this country and just be—not be regulated or monitored by some governmental force," she said. "Forest dwellers are thoughtful, introspective people. I understood their motives, even if some of them were a little out there."

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Michael Bloomberg. Photo via MTA on Flickr.

US News

Bloomberg Not Running
Michael Bloomberg has decided not to enter the presidential race as a third party candidate, saying an independent bid could backfire and help put Republicans Donald Trump or Ted Cruz in the White House. "That is not a risk I can take in good conscience," he said. —The Washington Post

US Air Strike Kills 150 in Somali
A US air strike on a training camp in Somali has killed around 150 al Shabab fighters, according to the Pentagon. Spokesman Captain Jeff Davis said the Islamist fighters, part of an al Qaeda affiliate, "posted an imminent threat to US and (African Union) forces." —The New York Times

Reporter Wins $55 Million Over Stalker Hotel Video
Sportscaster Erin Andrews has been awarded $55 million from a hotel operator after the secret recording and release of a video showing her naked while staying at a Tennessee hotel. Her stalker Michael David Barrett, who recorded the video after sawing a peephole into her room, was sentenced to two and a half years in prison. —ABC News

San Francisco Train Derailed
A Bay Area commuter train went off its tracks in Niles Canyon, east of San Francisco, causing the front car of the train to hit a tree and fall into the creek. Police said 14 of the 214 train passengers were injured, with four sustaining serious injuries. —USA Today

International News

Tunisia Kills Militants at Libya Border
Tunisian security forces have killed 28 militants who launched a cross-border raid from Libya. Seven civilians and nine security officers were also killed in clashes. The fighting follows an attack by Islamists on an army base and police station at the Tunisian border. —BBC News

China Sets Up Base in Djibouti
China has hinted at plans for more global bases following the setup of "support facilities" in Djibouti, something the African country calls a military facility. China plans to use it to launch anti-piracy operations, and China's foreign minister said there could be more facilities in future.—Reuters

EU and Turkey Agree Refugee Deal
Turkey and the EU have reached an outline agreement to tackle the refugee crisis in Europe. The EU is expected to give Turkey $3.3 billion and grant Turkish citizens the right to enter the Schengen zone without a visa in exchange for help ending the flow of refugees to Greece. —Al Jazeera

Indian Teen Raped and Set on Fire
Police say a 15-year-old girl is fighting for her life in a New Delhi hospital after being raped and set on fire on the rooftop of her family home. A 20-year-old man has been arrested for allegedly raping and trying to burn the girl, after her parents found her with severe burns. —AP

Maria Sharapova. Photo via Wikimedia.

Everything Else

Nike Suspends Sharapova Ties
The sportswear giant has announced it is suspending its relationship with Russian tennis star Maria Sharapova after she admitted to have failed a drug test. "We are saddened and surprised," the Nike statement read. —Sky News

Google Hires 4chan Founder
Christopher Poole, the founder of notorious forum 4chan, has been hired by Google. Poole said he found himself "drawn to their intelligence, passion, and enthusiasm." —Gizmodo

Egyptian Student to Leave US After Trump Joke
A student pilot from Egypt has agreed to leave the US voluntarily after posting on Facebook the world would thank him if he killed Donald Trump. Emadeldin Elsayed, 23, was not charged, but immigration authorities wanted to deport him. —Slate

American Muslim Ads Go Up in NYC
Ads created for a comedy documentary called The Muslims Are Coming! were banned last year by New York City's transit authority for being "political." But a First Amendment–based lawsuit means the ads will now go up across the subway system. —VICE News


Done with reading today? Watch our new video 'How the Philippines's Strict Laws Have Driven Women to Seek Backstreet Abortions'

Photo via Wikimedia

Periods are shit. And they're even worse when you have to go to work and make conversation with Joe from two desks down when you've got a pain in your uterus so blinding it could be—according to science—"almost as bad as a heart attack."

Admitting that to your boss, though, can be hard. Asking to go home sick because you're bleeding is awkward at best, a totally off-limits social taboo at worst. That's why a British company called Coexist announced last week that it would be introducing period leave to the women in their office. It's not a new thing—Japan has had period leave for more than 70 years, and Nike already offers women monthly menstrual leave.

But in these stringent economic times, what would actually happen if all working women were given time off to give their uterus some TLC once a month? Would the global economy collapse? The stock markets crash? Or would it—as the Sun columnist Karren Brady believes, just reduce women in the workplace again to the "weaker sex at the mercy of our monthly cycles"? We asked Dr. Hyun-Jung Lee, professor of employment relations and organizational behavior at the London School of Economics and Political Science.

VICE: What do you make of a workplace "period policy"?
Dr Lee: I'm originally from South Korea, where women have a right to have a day off per month if the pain of their period becomes unbearable. It makes a lot of sense there because they have a strict working environment. People show up to work from 8 AM, do 12-hour days, and traditionally many companies also ask that you work on a Saturday until midday. They need to be totally present in their jobs.

Do we actually need a period policy in the UK?
Well, not necessarily, because in this country there is already a lot of flexibility at work. A lot of people take sick days—my assistant is actually off today because she is unwell. That said, giving your workforce more flexibility about when and where they work has positive affects on the overall well-being of your staff. Obviously, you have to show up at work for a certain amount of time and you need to interact with your customers and colleagues, but at the same time, a lot of things you can do much better if you're at home with your laptop and not surrounded by people and unnecessary distractions.

So could a period policy make an office more productive?
Yes. For example, both the Virgin Group and Netflix have a policy of unlimited annual leave. It's unbelievable, I know, but a policy like this is an acknowledgment that if you treat workers as human beings, people will make more responsible decisions.

I asked the head of HR at Virgin how many days she takes off a year and she said not many. Because knowing that she can take the days off when she needs to is motivating and puts the importance of the work into perspective. No one wants to work in an environment where you feel there are people constantly monitoring you. The feeling that you are being watched only has negative effects on productivity.

But what about people who can't work from home? Would a menstruation leave policy be at all plausible?
I can see the challenge because with a period you can't really predict when it's going to start. Women's mensuration cycles are often irregular. So in that respect, it could cause unplanned distribution to the workforce. But if you are at work and suffering, the likelihood is that you will be unproductive regardless.

It is also a pain that can be contagious. If you are suffering, you are not really functioning, and people can see that you are not working, which can have a negative effect the morale of other employees.

What would be the economic impact of all women being able to take time off when they are on their period, then?
One day a month, not showing up the the office wouldn't make a financial impact, in my view. On paper, if you look at the policy, you might think that because a substantial amount of the workforce could be taking an extra day's leave once a month, that could cost the business a lot—but that is only the economic based model. If you take into account the positive effects such a policy would have on work-life well-being, happiness, and productivity, it doesn't really matter.

Should more businesses be implementing a period policy?
Yes, but businesses have to be aware that the way you implement such a policy is the most important thing. Senior members of staff would need to be very clear that this is a positive policy that will most likely create a flexible working environment, where all employees have more respect for the work they are doing.

I say this because this is a sensitive policy. In South Korea, the reality is a lot of women don't take these days off because it's still very embarrassing to declare that you are on your period. Women still have to compete with men in the workplace, so it would seem undesirable for many women to take an extra day off and in some way demonstrate that your private life is more important than your work.

How likely is it that a policy such as this would be implemented across the UK?
I think that this is a very revolutionary idea that would take a long time to implement in British working culture. There is also the issue of gender equality, as the policy only affects females. What would it mean for how women are seen in the workplace? A lot of trade unions would have an issue with this and would take a long time to deliberate.

Follow Amelia on Twitter.

This stock photo would be a thing of the past under Steve Hanke's proposals.

You would never complain that a mile is too long, or a decibel too loud, so it's hard to imagine how something like time can stop working. Time is just a thing we have, and despite all the world's cultural differences, every country uses the same 24-hour clock. Who would want to tinker with that?

Well, quite a lot of people: Spain, for example, is looped into the same time zone as Eastern European countries like Poland and Hungary, despite being geographically in line with Morocco, the UK, and Portugal. The consequences are that the Spanish sleep, on average, 53 minutes longer than their European peers and don't see much daylight. Economist Nuria Chinchilla, who studies work and family life at Spain's IESE Business School, told NPR that the time zone change is ruining the lives of ordinary people: "We have no time for personal life or family life... therefore, we are committing suicide here in Spain. We have just 1.3 children per woman. And it's because we have no time."

Spain's time zone is doubly crushing to some because of the rationale behind its introduction. In 1942, General Franco adapted the country's time zone to match Nazi Germany's as a simple show of allegiance to Adolf Hitler. Political allegiance is a surprisingly common reason for time zone changes; after Russia's occupation of Crimea in 2014, the peninsula's time zone skipped forward an hour, ditching daylight savings time to better match its new owner. A clock-change can also affect economic realities, like in 2011, when American Samoa jumped west across the international dateline to be in better sync with its nearest traders, Australia and New Zealand.

Occasional rumblings of how to solve national problems such as Spain's late-night living or Indian tea-pickers' preference to work during daylight hours will gain pace every so often. But not all attempts to change time are successful. In 2010, David Cameron supported a backbencher's private bill to push UK time forward by an hour, but it was eventually filibustered and then lampooned by Jacob Rees-Mogg, who jokingly proposed Somerset deserved its own time zone a quarter of an hour behind London's.

But could a bigger, universal solution to the world's time issues be on the horizon? Step in Steve Hanke and Richard Conn Henry, both professors at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, who have invented the Hanke-Henry Permanent Calendar, which has a 364 day year, with a "leap week" every five or six years. The idea is to make the calendar perennial, so that each date falls on the same day each year, making dates easier to remember. At the same time, the world would also switch to Coordinated Universal Time or UTC, which would set every watch across the world to the exact same time.

This all sounds like a utopian exercise in imaginary mathematics, but the professors are deadly serious about every government in the world universally agreeing to change the way time is measured, and they have plans to spread the world of their calendar and UTC using viral campaigns on social media. We spoke to Professor Hanke, whose experience lies in currency reform from Ecuador to Indonesia, to find out more about this plan.

VICE: How arbitrary are the time zones we have right now?
Steve Hanke: In 1870, St. Louis had six time zones. There were 75 railway times across the States that year. And the time-space compression was chaos because, of course, you had to schedule things. By 1883, we adopted, mainly at the behest of the railways, standard railway times, and with that, we got the four time zones that we still have in the US. Same goes for Germany; there were five big time zones until, in 1891, 90-year-old General Helmuth von Moltke argued in his last major speech in the parliament that the only reason he won two wars was because he was running with the unified consolidated time system for the rails—and the logistics of supplying troops. By the early 1970s, pilots and airports all went to universal time, for safety. But we're now in another era in which we're witnessing an enormous time-space compression with the internet. So we have a lot of universal time that's being adopted and used, and we don't realize it's being used.

But getting a new time zone for the internet is hardly a safety concern, is it?
It's not a safety issue. It's a coordination issue. And universal time is already spontaneously being adopted from the ground up for lots of practical reasons. And when the railways and the pilots demanded new time zones, they didn't ask anyone. It was a necessity.

So what's wrong with our time zones now?
The most simple thing is scheduling a meeting or a conference call. The errors will, from an economics point of view, waste time and money.

Isn't that a bit of a first world problem?
I think, generally, UTC facilitates commerce and commercial activity. Anything that does that is a good thing because it leads to peace and prosperity. That said, historically, there have been disputes over who sets time; Paris didn't like that Greenwich got to claim Mean Time, and colonies were resistant to time zone changes.

Time zones as they stand. Via

Some might say this will benefit people within technological industries to the detriment of people farming and manufacturing.
There are two layers here. One: The main thing is to get "time talk" going, because it will provoke spontaneous adoption of the obvious. But two is that we'll need two systems; you'll have universal time for everyone, that will be the mean time and the anchor, but you'll also have work-zone time on top of that. So when the sun's at its highest, you're going to be having your lunch, but this will be at different points on your watch depending on what part of the world you'll be living in.

How easy is this going to be to implement?
Once people think about it, it's easy to understand. If we went to universal time, the work-zone time might be cleaned up a little. Maybe we'd have 24 work-zone times throughout the world. A shop in London will open at 9 AM and close at 5 PM under solar time, but under universal time, in New York, you open at 2 PM. The transition is easy to make, countries have gone metric, and that's a much bigger switch than universal time.

But we seem to be more obsessed with time now than we were with currency or measurements then.
Let's assume that's true—I'd argue that it's easier to make the transition, then, because if people are more interested and obsessed with time, it's probably going to be easier to change it. Henry once called his elderly mother in Toronto one summer's day, and he asks, "How's the weather?" She says, "It's really hot—it's almost 30 today." He couldn't believe it, because she was very old, and she'd switched to metric without realizing.

Once the "time talk" gets going, what else stands in your way?
In a way, I don't see the obstacles as being too great. I'm a laissez-faire free-trade liberal in the classic sense, and I like things to be spontaneously and voluntarily adopted, and I think if it's logical, there are a lot of benefits to it. Pretty soon, you and I will be talking about this, and you'll ask, "How did you do that? Did you have to go to the UN or Washington, DC?"

Well, a non-governmental approach has kind of been tried before. In 1999, Swatch introduced Internet Time, measuring out a day in 1,000 ".beats." Watches sold that year would contain two times. One to be adjusted based on solar time zones; the other was a counter going up to 1,000 on loop each day. But that was phased out by 2001. What will make UTC last?
I don't think Swatch sold it very well. But it did get "time talk" going. With UTC, the companies will get on board with this train after it's left the station, because people will start using UTC and watch companies will make a fortune selling 24-hour dials.

Do you think a company like Apple or Google are aware they could capitalize on UTC?
I can't answer the question as I haven't talked to them, which suggests that maybe I should be talking to them, but if we get more "time talk," these people are smart, they'll be calling me!

They're smart, and they're rich. Maybe you should pitch to them. Because this doesn't seem like something one head of state could introduce.
If we get into the political sphere, there are heads of states who like to do big, bold things, and if one of them who was influential got a hold of it, it could be introduced. China, India, or Russia could do it.

What about the cultural currency of time? Like Kanye West tweeting that he doesn't want to work with people who won't let him call them at 3 AM—that won't mean anything under UTC.
People get put off by universal time, saying "I don't want to do that because I don't want to work when it's dark out or sleep when it's light," but who would want that? It's got nothing to do with universal time! When universal time is adopted, we'll still have to consider if the people we're communicating with are awake or not.

So, in an ideal world, you see UTC and solar time coexisting?
Yes, and it's natural. From an astronomical point of view, the time is the same everywhere in the world right now.

OK, please stop. Now you're hurting my brain.

Follow Sophie Wilkinson on Twitter.

The author gets masked up, ready to inhale laughing gas constantly for half an hour.

One of the things that makes laughing gas the cupcake of drugs—a high so basic and fleeting it makes cocaine look like ayahuasca—is the sheer number of fringe celebrities making it into the tabloids with a balloon selfie.

Is "hippy crack" becoming the millennial answer to the boomers' LSD, or to Gen-Xers' heroin? Just ask the collection of reality TV stars and socialites in the UK posting their balloon selfies on the internet and cruising into the sidebar of shame.

While it's fun to wonder whether or not a generation really is defining itself with a high that makes you feel as if your head is bonging around in a thunder drum for a few seconds, the relentless publicity of laughing gas as a recreational drug is a minor hindrance for Ravi Das, a neuroscientist at University College London who has uncovered an extremely serious use for it.

"The only thing that you ever hear about it in the media is negative, really," says Das. "But I think it might be undergoing a bit of a renaissance. The view of it as just a kind of obstetrics analgesic may be changing."

Das's research, published last Friday in the journal Psychological Medicine, shows that laughing gas, or nitrous oxide (NOS), may help to prevent traumatic memories from "sticking" in the brain. Administered straight after a distressing event, the nitrous oxide is thought to disrupt a process that helps permanent memories to form. Das suggested that I test out his theory by allowing myself to be mildly traumatized, then pumped with laughing gas for 30 minutes.

The author watching 'Irreversible'

That's how I ended up in a small office at University College London, watching the Gaspar Noe film, Irreversible. It's a notoriously difficult film to sit through. Roger Ebert summarized it as "a movie so violent and cruel that most people will find it unwatchable." Luckily, I didn't have to watch the whole thing—because Das had helpfully extracted the two most brutal, traumatic scenes into a 15-minute montage of grim butchery. A relentless nine-minute rape scene segued neatly into a six-minute fire extinguisher murder, which I watched before completing a questionnaire.

There isn't much to say about the actual footage, other than it is one of the most graphic and distressing bits of cinema I have ever watched. Das had actually intended to use real life footage of car crashes compiled by German police, but study participants actually found Noe's fictional work more traumatic.

"We'd used a lot of different trauma films in the past," he said. "Clips of car crashes and stuff like that. And we found that people's intrusion counts over the course of the week were just at floor level. But a single scene with higher production values increased the number of intrusions people had."

An "intrusion" is a kind of unprompted flashback to the film. The researchers cycled through a range of horror films and real-life footage before deciding that Noe's film was better at disturbing the viewer—and delivering more intrusions—than any other.

"A lot of the other horror films are so stylized and over-gory, and they have this kind of visceral shock value but not the kind of empathy-inducing effects ," Das said.

I'm not sure if I felt traumatized, exactly, but there is something intensely uncomfortable, claustrophobic, and memorable about both scenes. For reasons that are not apparent to me, the memory of the rapist's erect CGI penis pinging into view is seared on my brain for eternity.

Dr. Ravi Das

The actual study documented the experiences of 50 participants, and some volunteers didn't make it through the full 15 minutes of video. The most distressing part for me, though, was the acute sense that I was the only one watching, silently, while Das made notes and Chris, my photographer, tried to catch me looking concerned.

My anxiety, however, was about to get even worse, because I was going to spend the next 30 minutes sitting in a chair, getting high on my own.

If you've ever experienced a flicker of paranoia when taking a balloon—the sensation that you've lost a second or two of consciousness—then imagine that strung out over the course of half an hour. Within two minutes, I turned to Das, who seemed very relaxed about the whole watching-me-get-high thing. "I'm high," I said. He laughed awkwardly. I sat silently and slightly shamefully, feeling increasingly dissociated, my short-term memory and ability to concentrate evaporating.

There's no doubt that 30 minutes of laughing gas felt a lot better than 15 minutes of Irreversible. According to Das's research, "intrusions"—those unwanted flashbacks to the film—fell by half in a group that received nitrous oxide rather than just normal air.

The following week involved a review of just how intrusive Irreversible would be in my day-to-day life.

Not very much, it turned out. I had a few grim, uninvited recollections of the rape scene, the most memorable of them happening immediately after I'd left Das's experiment room. I was also asked how much I remembered of what I'd seen, and although a couple of scenes stood out, a quiz revealed that there were entire chunks I'd simply forgotten.

My experience was in line with Das's theory that nitrous oxide has the potential for stopping bad memories in their tracks, but there was a twist in the research: Das also found that for people who already felt dissociated by a traumatic event, nitrous oxide could actually put them in a worse situation.

"Some people have a tendency to dissociate following traumatic events," he said. "People who were more dissociated following the film didn't show the beneficial effect of the nitrous oxide. There was some indication that it may have actually increased injury."

"There are a lot more questions to answer before we'd say it should definitely be used," he added. "But it's an interesting jumping-off point."

Clouding memories with nitrous oxide is obviously useful in a traumatic context, but less so when you'd prefer a mental record of your weekend. Das thinks it's doubtful that a handful of balloons taken recreationally could dissolve your memories of a good time, because you spend very little time inhaling the gas. Canisters are not typically the kind of thing people desperately call in at 2 AM and sit doing back-to-back until they pass out. But if this is you, then Das's research at least presents another reason to re-examine your life choices.

Follow Ben Bryant on Twitter.

This piece was published in partnership with The Influence.

One summer day in 2007, Utah State Senator Mark Madsen (R-Saratoga Springs) was grilling chicken and corn on the cob in his yard with his family, when he was hit by what felt like the flu. As a chronic pain patient, Madsen, who sustained back and spine injuries from two car accidents and playing football in his youth, was wearing a Fentanyl patch to alleviate his discomfort. Not realizing the Fentanyl patch had burst, Madsen went to go lie down.

"Our oldest daughter came to me and said, 'Mom, Dad told me to wake him up, and I can't wake him up,'" recounts Madsen's wife Erin. "I went downstairs to wake him up, and he was cold and clammy. He had turned gray. He was not breathing." They called 911 and their neighbor who was a paramedic, while Erin tried to resuscitate Madsen with rescue breaths. "I could feel that his heart was beating, but he was not breathing. I was terrified. I had four young children, and I thought my husband was dead."

Having survived an accidental opioid overdose, Madsen has become one of Utah's strongest proponents for medical marijuana. He sponsors Senate Bill 73 (SB 73), currently up for debate in the state assembly, to make cannabis available to patients who qualify under nine conditions—including cancer, AIDS, and Alzheimer's—or are allergic to opioids, or at high risk of addiction.

Madsen is also a practicing Mormon, the grandson of Ezra Taft Benson, the 13th president of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Given the Mormon Church's opposition to the ingestion of substances like alcohol—or even coffee—Madsen's support for medical marijuana is surprising, and he clashes with the church on his bill.

"I have absolute faith, but I have stewardship to the people who elected me," Madsen tells The Influence. "I don't believe it's the government's business to tell people what they can take into their bodies. It's not the government's business to tell you what state of mind to be in."

The church, which initially took a strong stance against SB 73, has softened its position following some amendments—most notably the bill's recent exclusion of smoking cannabis flower. Patients would be able to consume cannabis only in extract form, such as capsules, tinctures, or vaporizable oils.

As of February 22, the church's latest statement urged a "cautious approach" to medical marijuana: "In our view, the issue for the Utah Legislature is how to enable the use of marijuana extracts to help people who are now suffering, without increasing the likelihood of misuse at a time when drug abuse in the United States is at epidemic proportions, especially among youth. Recent changes to SB 73 are a substantial improvement." Still, the church demands more research on the effects of marijuana and the perceived risks of THC.

Partly because of such concerns, Utah's legislators are now deliberating two medical marijuana bills that have progressed from the State Senate to the House of Representatives.

Senate Bill 89, sponsored by Senator Evan Vickers (a pharmacist by trade), is competing with SB 73. It's a CBD extract bill; that is, Vickers' bill allows a select few retailers to sell, to a limited range of patients, medical marijuana extracts high in cannabidiol (CBD)—a non-psychotropic chemical compound that alleviates pain, inflammation, anxiety, and seizures. This rival SB 89 excludes medical marijuana with more than 0.3 percent tetrahydrocannabinol (THC)—the dominant compound in cannabis, which also benefits several health conditions, but additionally makes users feel high. Utah has already enacted a CBD bill called Charlee's Law, which allows qualifying patients to order cannabis with less than 0.3 percent THC from other states. SB 89 would allow retailers to sell similar products within the state.

"Our biggest challenge is overcoming Reefer Madness propaganda and helping legislators understand that legalizing medical cannabis does not necessarily put Utah on a 'slippery slope' toward recreational," says Connor Boyack, a supporter of SB 73 and president of the Libertas Institute, a libertarian think tank based out of Lehi, Utah.

Around 80 percent of Utah legislators belong to the LDS Church. "Each is affected by the position of the church to different degrees," says Boyack. "Some will do whatever they ask without question, while others consider the church's statement as they would any other organization, focusing instead on representing their constituents."

Utah is 60 percent Mormon and 64 percent in favor of medical marijuana. With or without the church's blessing, Mormons in Utah are coming to their own conclusions about cannabis.

Allison Easley from Sandy, Utah, suffers from fibromyalgia and multiple sclerosis. She is a devout Mormon, having been active in various children's and women's church groups, and has even served in leadership roles. "I have a complicated relationship with the church now that they've made statements," she says. "I suffer on a daily basis, and the other people who are LDS in states where it's legal are allowed to use medical marijuana. But in Utah? Nope."

"I was struggling with the church as it was," she continues, "but this has pushed me to want to leave for good. My health, being able to take care of my eight children, being able to walk, play, be a wife—none of this can happen if I'm in pain and addicted to opiates."

Easley says she and her Mormon peers with debilitating medical conditions feel betrayed by the church. She used to live in California, where she learned firsthand that medical marijuana—and specifically, cannabis herb containing THC, but not CBD oil—helps her. "My opinion on the church's statement is that it's turned the state of Utah into a theocracy, and that's troubling for me. These men who run the church, they're old. They still believe Reefer Madness because they were told to believe that 50s propaganda."

Easley and her family now plan on moving back to California because of this issue; she says up to 12 of her friends' families have already done the same, relocating to Oregon and Colorado.

In fact, Easley explains, marijuana is not even mentioned in the Mormon health code, called the Word of Wisdom. The text condemns alcohol, tobacco, and hot drinks like coffee, and advises sparing meat consumption. (The LDS Church itself denied our requests for comment.)

"Substances like alcohol can alter your state of mind and thus not give you the most control over of what's happening, or you might not have the agency to control your body as you want," says Brandt Malone, editor-in-chief of the Mormon News Report. That's the rationale the church may be using in regard to marijuana, he says.

"But what's the difference between me taking Percocet or being on a morphine drip, versus a doctor saying, 'You have some back pain, and I'm going to recommend marijuana?'" Malone asks. Each month, 23 people die of prescription drug overdoses in Utah; heroin addiction rates are rising there as well.

Pat Bird, director of operations at the Utah County Department of Drug and Alcohol Prevention and Treatment, says those opposed to SB 73 are concerned about social impact. "We know that THC is linked to numerous problematic situations with young adults with regard to psychotic episodes, IQ, and impact on substance abuse and addiction. We have an excessive amount of information on the harms of marijuana," Bird claims, citing increased marijuana DUIs and emergency room visits from edible freak-outs. "CBD, though we don't know the total impact, we know it doesn't have any psychoactive substances in it." (It should be noted that while marijuana can have adverse effects, most use is non-problematic. Claims that it lowers IQ are opposed by scientific evidence, and zero people die from marijuana overdose each year, compared with many thousands of deaths relating to prescription pills and alcohol.)

The church understands the impact marijuana can have on social problems, says Bird. "We stand behind the science and the medical community to handle this, not popular vote. We know that marijuana is not benign and virtuous." Popular vote isn't used to approve other medications, he argues, so if marijuana is in fact a medicine, it should be treated as such. "Something we should increase is the research. I would fully support that," he adds.

"Many politicians aren't educated on the actual science behind cannabis, its mechanism of action, and the way it interacts physiologically," says Paul Armentano, deputy director of National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws (NORML). "When people take medicines, they take pills. There's a stigmatization against smoking." The church and other opponents of SB 73 continue to call for more research before they will back a bill that is broader than only allowing CBD-dominant extracts.

As SB 73 awaits action in the House of Representatives before the end of the legislative session on March 11, the biggest problem is that communities are split, says Christine Stenquist, a patient and founder of Together for Responsible Use and Cannabis Education (TRUCE), which advocates for medical marijuana in Utah. "Law enforcement is split, the medical community is split. You can find studies and statistics, which support whatever perspective you want. That's what creates this problem of not knowing who to believe." (Senator Madsen's assistant tells The Influence that SB 73 was dealt a setback Monday when it was voted down 8–4 in the House Health and Human Services Committee.)

Madsen cites studies showing a decrease in opioid overdoses in medical marijuana states, while Pat Bird and his allies rely on studies illustrating an uptick in marijuana use disorders. For now, Stenquist says advocates for the bill are waiting for a friendly committee in the house to pick it up. If by March 11, it doesn't pass, she says TRUCE has enough financial backing to pursue a ballot initiative for November—though with a fast-approaching April due date, some doubt whether a medical marijuana ballot initiative requiring over 100,000 signatures is still feasible.

"Right now our wings are clipped; we're in a holding pattern," says Stenquist. "I know a lot of people who are upset and frustrated. Even if you're not a practicing LDS member, the LDS Church affects your day-to-day life."

Madison Margolin is a New York-based journalist who covers marijuana and cultural and social issues. Follow her on Twitter.

This article was originally published by The Influence, a news site that covers the full spectrum of human relationships with drugs. Follow The Influence on Facebook or Twitter.

What was it like to be female bouncer in the 70s? How did a single mom deal with divorce in the 40s? How does an anarchist punk daughter of the 70s feel about women's rights in 2016? We spoke to eight women from eight different decades—from teens to octogenarians—to find out how life has changed for girls.

Mac Westwood, 18: "Until last year, my friends were going to illegal raves where nobody cares how old you are."
I just finished my final year at an all-girl state school in London, where I was really lucky to meet a close-knit group of friends. The majority of us don't have boyfriends. We hang out with boys, obviously, but we've never seemed to depend on them in terms of needing a relationship. Last year, I was sexually assaulted at a bus stop—some guy started masturbating at me in broad daylight, and no one did anything about it. It was traumatic, but the experience has made me even more self-assured in myself. If anything like that happens again, I'll make sure to tell the pervert to fuck off.

My friends and I all look really young, so we have never had any luck with getting served at liquor stores or getting into clubs. Up until last year, most of my friends were going to illegal raves on the outskirts of London where no one cares how old you are. Getting an ID last year was amazing because suddenly it didn't matter that I had a baby face—I have proof that I am of age. In class, we were never directly taught about feminism. But being surrounded by a diverse mix of girls has given me a sense of independence. I feel like we could achieve anything and everything.

Meltem Avcil, 22: "I was locked up in Yarl's Wood for three months. That's when I started campaigning."
I'm from Turkey originally—I'm Kurdish—and had to leave for political reasons. It's the same old story about any country that is at war with its own people. My mom and I arrived here in 2001, and we were housed between London, Doncaster, Newcastle, and Kent while the Home Office considered our asylum application. Six years later, eight immigration officers raided our house and took us to Yarl's Wood. We were locked up there for three months. That's when I started campaigning—people got angry when they found out a 13-year-old girl was locked up in a B-class prison for no reason.

After getting out, I had this broken sadness, like I was going to be locked up at any minute, but it's mainly affected me in a positive way. I value freedom more now, and I can make friends wherever I go. I did two years studying mechanical engineering at Kingston, and I partied pretty hard then. I'm much calmer now. I actually took up knitting recently, but sometimes the vodka lures me out. I switched to study psychology at Goldsmiths. I feel like there are loads of opportunities in Britain for women. I'm not in a relationship at the moment. Guys are scared of me. I can't really play stupid—I'm not saying I'm a genius, don't get me wrong, but I can't seem to find a respectful, cute guy. Apparently, that's too much to ask for.

Susannah Webb, 30: "We need to understand sexual and gender fluidity more."
My mom had me when she was 41, so I don't think I've ever felt the same kind of pressures other women my age might. Maybe they'll come on in the next five years, though. I still feel like women's choices surrounding babies, careers, and being single are slightly more limited, or judged, than they are for men.

I like being a 30 year-old-woman all-round, but then, I'm lucky that I'm in a job that I love, as a record label manager. I work in an industry where going out is part and parcel, and I wouldn't do that if I didn't enjoy it. I still go out a lot, but my lifestyle has changed from my 20s.

I'd like to say that being gay is more accepted now, but it would help if everyone stopped being so worried about putting people's identities in a box. We all need to understand gender and sexual fluidity better and be a bit more easygoing about people finding their way. I still feel like there aren't enough gay women role models, and in the music industry, there are even fewer.

Esther Koroma, 49: "My foster parents thought that as a woman, I needed a man."
I'm proud to be a woman—we're life-givers. Growing up, I wasn't happy. I was brought up in foster care, and I never felt that my adopted parents really loved me. I got married when I was young because my foster parents were Muslim. They believed that as a woman, I needed a man and should be in the kitchen all the time. As I got older, I came to see that so many things that happen in the world affect girls more than the boys; look at the rape and dark things that happen to women in war. I converted to Christianity later in my life and left my man and my home. I'm happy now. I'm single and live by myself. I don't know if I'll get married again; sometimes I think I'd rather be alone because marriage is such a difficult commitment. It can be lonely, but if you have a job, you can take care of yourself. Then it's all up to you.

Kate Cox (left) at work

Kate Cox, 51: "My own kids discuss sex openly, which is nice."
I think the biggest change in my lifetime has been people's attitude toward sex. I grew up at a time when people's attitudes to marriage were changing. When I was growing up, if I took boyfriends home, they weren't allowed upstairs to my bedroom. My dad was a solicitor and did the conveyancing on the first one-bedroom apartment I bought with my husband, my then-boyfriend. He refused to go into the bedroom. He couldn't bear to acknowledge the fact that if there was one bed, my boyfriend and I were sleeping together in it. I've got my own kids now—they're 18 and 22—and we discuss sex quite openly, which is nice. I also work as a body painter. So many women of my generation, once they got married, that was it. But now we've got more opportunities, and we don't have to stay in dead-end marriages. I keep reinventing my life about every ten years, but women would have been considered irresponsible for living like this when I was growing up. I went from qualifying as a horse riding instructor—very middle-class—to doing face and nude body painting. My parents would've seen my job today as nonsense, and when I show my mother pictures of the people I paint naked, she pretends not to be too shocked. There are still more men than women in nude body painting—I wonder why?

Helen in 1988 in Egypt

Helen Harrison, 62: "I was confident at breaking up fights."
I was the first female bouncer in Bristol. I started working at the Alexander nightclub in 1976, and I was employed to clear glasses, empty ashtrays, and keep the place tidy. The club needed somebody to work with the doorman Doug. He and I were just starting a relationship, so I got the job. He went on vacation for a couple of weeks, and I made a success of working the door on my own. Not long after this, when I broke up with Dougie, he decided we couldn't work together and said to the owners of the club, "It's Helen or me, and they said 'Helen.'"

Female bouncers are far less unusual now. I think I probably found success by virtue of being a novelty. I was pretty confident breaking up fights. In all the years I worked there, I was only hit once. He left me with bruised ribs, but luckily the police turned up in time to get him. It's definitely more dangerous for women now. I used to walk home on my own at 4 AM down alleyways, but I'd never let a woman do that today. I'm with Street Pastors now, working with churches in Bristol city center to offer care late on Saturday nights. I've been looking after drunk people for 40 years, and really, it's the same blokes I was kicking out of clubs that I'm now helping in taxis. Nothing really changes that much.

Gee Vaucher (left) stands with Crass members Joy De Vivre and Eve Libertine at a highway service café circa 1982.

Gee Vaucher, 71: "Women used graffiti to change the messages everyone was faced with."
The feminist movement of the 70s was, of course, very vibrant. I attended a few talks by some of the American heavyweights who were touring around Britain at the time. I can't say I was impressed. What has always been more important for me is the liberation of everyone from where they see themselves and others. The early feminist movement was too "us and them," too hateful, too many women carrying victimhood like a cross. But it was, of course, the continuation of a journey started by the suffragettes, and it was important.

I grew up in Dagenham .

One of the most obvious and successful forms of confronting sexism at the time was the attack on sexist advertisements. Women started using graffiti to change the messages everyone on the street was faced with. It was in your face and really made you think. It was great "advert"—especially for young kids coming home from school. Along with the Greenham Common Women's Peace Camp, it was another example of women working together to bring about change in a simple way, and it did. Most women now are more aware of their rights, but I still don't think it has had a deep shift for the majority of women. Certainly tits and bums are back in force again.

Rose Burge

Rose Burge, 80: "I got married at 22. I didn't know him well enough; he was no good."
I was born in a country town in Wiltshire. My father died when we were all small, and there were six of us. There was no family allowance or anything back then, but we managed. My mother worked hard, always cleaning and scrubbing. I left school at 15 to work at an egg-packing factory. I always wanted to be a nurse, really, but never got to do it. I did end up working as a home carer, going around to old people's places, so I found some satisfaction in that. At 22, I got married. He lived miles away in Yorkshire, and I didn't know him well enough. He was no good. We had a child, but I couldn't stay with him—I didn't want to end up with six children and no help. I came home to my mother, went to work, and got someone to look after my son in the day. It was a hard time.

These days a marriage breaks up, and nobody thinks anything of it. But you'd never risk having a baby out of marriage back then. You'd be frightened stiff of bringing the shame on your mother and father. There was no contraception. Girls didn't even go into pubs unless they were with a husband or boyfriend. It's a world of difference to be a girl now, so much freedom. When I went to church after my divorce, I felt so awkward—I felt really that I'd sinned. But luckily, I met my second husband, and he adopted my son. We had a lovely little life together. You learn by the ups and downs. It's never going to be roses.

Interviews by Hannah Ewens, Amelia Dimoldenberg, Angus Harrison, Olivia Marks, Helen Nianias, and Tshepo Mokoena.

Anarchist-queer project Bash Back! on the march in Milwarke in 2008. Photo via

Crack! Between the instant you commit to a head-butt and the meeting of skull and face, there's a moment, stretched out by adrenaline, which seems to go on forever. Am I doing this right? Fuck, what if it goes wrong? Talk about a gap between theory and practice. Crunch! I feel his hand loosen from round my neck. I take the opportunity, slamming my palms on the bus door until it opens, and run. My ears are ringing; if they shout after me, I don't hear it. It's not until I get home, legs hollow and shaking from the hormonal punch of flight-or-fight, that I notice my own nose has bled down through my stubble.



How did that happen? I'd been reading on a bus home after a party, and some guys had gotten on the bus. It looked like they'd been out from work, all in suits, ties presumably stuffed in a pocket. One of them took a look at me—and if this has ever happened to you, you'll know that look, a flick up-and-down, disgusted, the assay of the playground predator—and called me a faggot. God help me, I wish I'd had a snappy reply to hand. But like a reflex, I told him to fuck off. That's how I ended up being held up against a window by the throat as he repeated the word again. And again. I hate that word. I can still see the wetness at the edge of his mouth as he repeated it.

No one intervened. The driver didn't stop the bus. Both these facts would gall me later. But the only thing that distinguishes this from common-or-garden homophobia is its ending: People do suddenly find whatever's out the window of deep interest when something like this happens. It's less common for the queer to win. When I posted about it on social media the next morning, between kind messages of sympathy and solidarity, there was the occasional comment celebrating that this homophobe had got his just deserts. I agreed. After all, I'd long held that modern pride tended to forget it began in a desperate riot; violent responses to homophobia are just self-defense. My favorite image in the movie Remembering Stonewall is a man's recollection of a drag queen sitting on a riot-suited cop, just hammering the hell out of him with her shoe. I thought—I still think—we could do with more of that spirit. Many of my friends, of course, felt the same. Stories of resistance are good medicine.



So why did I feel like shit?



Well, because it's London, and because for God's sake, can't we be done with this already? Can't we just junk this stupid suburban prejudice once and for all? Can't I just sit on a bus and read? And how did he clock me? Is it that I'd crossed my legs too queerly? A lack of rigidity in the wrists? It's that hair flick, isn't it? If you ever wonder why there are so many queer people in theater, it's because of this: Our survival in a hostile world has so often depended on intense attention to our every gesture and all of its possible meanings. Don't glance too long. Don't mince. Careful with the voice. And once every so often, there'll be someone to call you a faggot, to remind you, just when you might have relaxed—we're watching.

There's a strain of radical queer politics—associated with groups like Bash Back!—that says I should have been feeling pretty powerful, as if violence had purged me of fear or somehow freed me from any mark left by past homophobia. It's true I occasionally felt that way: suddenly strong, as if I could head-butt every homophobe. And yes, I hope it hurt. The adrenaline high is an addictive one, better too if it's combined with righteousness. But more often that strength felt brittle, as if it concealed a deeper helplessness, white-hot rage that had found no satisfaction in its exercise of power. Inside that rage I felt very small; I thought constantly of how casually he'd spat out that word, that look. I'd never felt less free.

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There's an allure to this kind of violence, against an obvious wrong. It's seductive. It can show you how close to the surface it lurks in our society, and bring you face-to-face with your own violent impulses. You might begin to feel, as I did, head-butting was not enough. One of the permeating effects of violence is that you begin to see everything in its terms: All human relations are boiled down to it. You see it in everything—every word, every action. This is not a new insight: The tragedians of ancient Greece knew it, and so did Freud. It can open the way to a kind of messianic nihilism, or belief that violence can inaugurate a better world. Freud's Civilization and its Discontents, like parts of Max Weber's work, speaks of something different: a chastened recognition of deep wells of violence and a hope that, however unjust, however compromised, the liberal state might restrain those impulses. In this view, society's laws, schools, courts, and prisons exist to tame something otherwise irreparably violent in human beings.



I don't think that will do, but I understand that belief a bit better now. I still think the state is criss-crossed by lines of violence, and the threat of violence, largely unacknowledged. I still deplore the habit of writing the violent, uncomfortable moments out of political history—because they're inextricable from moments of major political change. But I am less convinced of general claims that violence can set you free. I am less convinced it's the whole story. I am more skeptical about claims that the causes of violence are reducible to a single category—private property, a lack of love, whatever—and can therefore be easily eliminated at its root. Most of all, I find myself thinking about "the political"—that is, that category of things we might decide, collectively, to change, and which has often promised an end to violence, or a way of resolving things beyond violence. The 20th century greatly expanded that category: We still have some way to go.



I don't regret what I did—I'd do it again—but it also sparked in me a bonfire of pieties, forced me to look more closely, more uncomfortably, at the relation between violence and politics. I don't know where that will end up, but I think it's a little closer to the truth.

Follow James Butler on Twitter.

The Saint Sabina church and other area churches offered a reward at the site where Tyshawn Lee, 9, was fatally shot in Chicago's Gresham neighborhood in November. (Zbigniew Bzdak/Chicago Tribune/TNS via Getty Images)

Chicago police have arrested a suspected triggerman in the November execution-style slaying of nine-year-old Tyshawn Lee, a tragedy that made national headlines in a city known for horrific gun violence.

Dwight Boone-Doty, who is 22, was charged with first-degree murder for allegedly luring the boy from a playground into an alley, where his body was found riddled with bullets, as the Associated Press reports. Another man, 27-year-old Corey Morgan, was also charged with murder in connection with the killing last fall.

Brutal violence is all too common in Chicago, which has already seen more than 100 murders in 2016. But even in a coarsened local media environment, the grisly killing was seen as uniquely heinous, its victim a mere fourth-grade student. What's more, the incident has authorities worried gang members are now retaliating on one another's families.

Such targets were previously considered off-limits.

Unnamed law enforcement sources told the Chicago Tribune that the tragedy stemmed from a rivalry between two gangs, the Gangster Disciples and the Black P Stones. Back in November, police suspected Lee's murder had to do with them calling in a man named Tracey Morgan for questioning. After talking to the cops, Morgan was killed and his mother was wounded, according to USA Today. Although the precise series of events is still being pieced together, it's believed Lee's father, Pierre Stokes, was in the Gangster Disciples' Killa Ward faction, and that the deaths of two other reputed members (and a number of related shootings) led to his son being killed.

Last fall, Tracey Morgan's brother Corey was questioned and let go before being arrested on an unrelated gun charge. While in jail, evidence suggested he was involved in the Lee shooting, and he was formally accused of sitting in the getaway car. Police said they had more suspects at the time and were actively searching for a man named Kevin Edwards. But Doty, who is suspected of actually pulling the trigger and was also arrested in November on an unrelated charge, was formally fingered Monday. (He's also charged with attempted murder and aggravated battery over the death of 19-year-old Brianna Jenkins in October.)

A basketball was apparently found near Lee's body after his death, and his grandmother said the child loved the game, his tablet, fried chicken, and macaroni and cheese. Garry McCarthy, then the Chicago police superintendent,called the act an "assassination" and "barbarism," as well as "probably the most abhorrent, cowardly, unfathomable crime that I've witnessed in 35 years of policing." (McCarthy was later forced to resign after a video was released showing one of his officers shooting 17-year-old Laquan McDonald 16 times in 2014.)

Lee's father, Pierre Stokes, refused to help police investigate. However, he told the Tribune he doesn't understand why his son was targeted because he is "not hard to find."

The shooting death and its aftermath marked a new low for the city that has taken on the controversial nickname ChiRaq. As of November, cable giant Comcast was reportedly canceling service calls to the city's South Side because it was too dangerous to go there. Lee also did not go trick-or-treating this past Halloween because, his father said, it was too risky.

It remains to be seen if Chicago police come up with a fresh strategy to combat what could be a monstrous shift in local gang tactics. Until then, regular citizens are left grappling with the grim reality of life in their city.

"I walked around the front and looked at him. His eyes were open. He had a gunshot to the head. I knew he was gone," the man who found Lee's body told the Sun-Times. "Who could shoot a child down like that—like he was garbage?"

Follow Allie Conti on Twitter.