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The Immersionism Issue

Dos & Don'ts

We were at a shitty party in Paris where it was so uncomfortable everyone vacillated from putting their hands in their pockets to crossing their arms and bobbing back and forth going, "So?" Then this little guy got up on the turntables and put on some...
VICE Staff
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We were at a shitty party in Paris where it was so uncomfortable everyone vacillated from putting their hands in their pockets to crossing their arms and bobbing back and forth going, “So?” Then this little guy got up on the turntables and put on some weird ragga dancehall shit that sounded like Kid 606 meets M.I.A. Everyone was like, “Wait, a fucking cat is on the decks? What?” and then they were all, “Um, I’m about to lose control and I think I like it.”


When the cat looked up, this girl was staring at him and pointing to her shirt. He laughed and put on Go Team’s “The Power Is On” like it was no big thing (which it is). They ended up going home together and he put his barbs in her ass.

When it’s supercrowded at a party and you’re walking around feeling horny there’s nothing like some red high heels and a “hey, over here” hat to snap you out of your daze and allow you to focus on the drunkest, funnest girls there.

Nine-feet-tall funny black guys and chubby little grade school racists are a good vibe because they show us that “fucking around” is the great unifier that brings people of all walks together—even more than shots.

Ever notice how, besides the purple guy, black people never smile in photographs?

Let’s face it. Homeless people are gross. Their shit-encrusted underpants have grown around the sores on their ass, and their feet reek so bad it’s interesting. So if they want us to give them money, they need to come to terms with the fact that we wouldn’t touch them with a ten-foot pole. Like, put a dish really far away so we don’t have to go close to them to give them money. There you go.

We saw this girl at a normal bar wandering around like she just moved here and was worried that she was too advanced for her new scene and was going to have to dumb it down a bit but then she thought, “Fuck this, I am going to elevate this scene to my level,” exactly like Kevin Bacon did in



where he taught the whole town how to rock.

A T-shirt with a blazer is still too

Miami Vice

but seersuckers and bright ice-cream-man colors are way better than anything cool. All that oversize-sports-clothes and 50 Cent tough-guy shit is for low-IQ white trash that need to go die getting us stuff.

Girls can wear anything they want if they have knee high boots on. Not the flat-soled ones Eurotrash wear but high-heel black leather boots that hurt her feet a bit. Shit, even dudes look good in them when they’re all rocking out with shoe polish on their face.

Wait, I changed my mind. New rule: dressing up like your mom is the new dirty slut look. It’s hotter and sluttier than thigh-high boots and a lace corset because it’s just so fucking weird it makes you want to eat her out behind the portables at parent-teacher interviews.

To call these guys a couple of fucking fags is an insult to the gay community. At least fags have a sense of humor about themselves and don’t stand in front of the mirror for hours squinting their eyes and telling invisible movie producers, “I don’t do TV.”

Hey look, the math nerds at A.Y. Jackson High School got “made” by MTV. Only now they’re the math nerds at A.Y. Jackson High School dressed up like slutty Bosnian superheros.

Shouldn’t this guy be in Iraq dying? Why have wars if you can’t use them to turn human garbage into neat stuff from other countries? This guy would look way better as one of many little white crosses all in a row beneath some heroic bronze sculpture of a soldier.


This guy went from the best dancer at the club with the best coke to this kind of eccentric regular to a fucking crazy homo that is completely out of his mind. What the fuck is on your head, guy? Are you my Nana?

You’re supposed to have a bit of humility when you barf. Like, you go behind a garbage can and get the fuck out of there when you’re done. You don’t set up shop on the bench outside the restaurant like you’re reading a good book and then sit there after it watching what your stomach acid did to the sun-dried tomatoes.

No, you are not hallucinating. Some wrinkly old turd brainwashed a woman into allowing his penis into her body because it’s “spiritual.” What is it about these “make up your own religion” guys where fucking a lot of young girls is always a crucial part of the “awakening.”

Girls and tattoos is a tricky scenario. Full sleeves are a bit much. Lower-back patterns are for dumb sluts. The odd small heart here and there is fine but a half-finished back piece of a naked lady fingering her own asshole? That’s the first tattoo to rival taking a shit in the middle of the street and screaming, “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to watch.”

Hey, while we’re banning gay marriage can we also ban simpletons on welfare that get married at the courthouse dressed in matching basketball uniforms and flip-flops? The “groom” didn’t even take his fucking backpack off.

The only guys that get laid less than guys that live with their mother are guys with good jobs and expensive apartments. These poor bastards work so hard they only have one or two nights a week to let go and it all comes gushing out in a no-pussy-for-miles “Don’t Stop Believin’ ” drunken ejaculation of missed opportunities. Wooooh!