Not Fit To Print

This Philly artist decided Seagram’s billboards were no longer fit to print. Photo by Kelly Clark.

Running a magazine is like running a culture gauge where people from all over the Western world send you things that they think other Westerners will enjoy. Unfortunately, instead of reveling in the great works of our people, we end up petrified of our entire generation, unable to go outside for fear of running into submoronic dog fuckers that like to be farted on (literally).

Let’s start with some of the pitches we receive. You have no idea how many “mullet hunts” and bumfight videos (yeah, we saw it on CNN too) and “guy who runs a porn company” pitches we get. Here are some of the worst stinkers…

Dear VICE Editor:
“The only thing you really have to keep an eye on is the pubic hair. You have to keep them pretty well-lubed.”
So said world-famous rock groupie/artist Cynthia Plaster Caster. I conducted a Q&A with Ms. Plaster Caster that resulted in an interview printed in the December issue of The Glass Eye, “Northwest Ohio’s Ugly Alternative Magazine.”

And it goes on. Cynthia Motherfucking Plaster Caster in the year 2003!? This next doozy is so bad we actually considered doing it for VICE TV as a joke.

Whassup Jesse,
I’m writing to pitch an article idea for your issue…. actually it’s more of an idea for a recurring section in the magazine. The name of the section would be “Fucked-Up Scenarios.”
It’s supposed to be kinda zany, and every installment would feature a different screwed up situation you could find yourself in. And also, they will all feature these characters I created called the “mafia squirrels.” These squirrels are regular nut-eating furry creatures during the day, but at night they become some respect-demanding, wiseguy-whacking, ruthless lowlifes. See an example below:
Fucked-up scenario #1: You are going through customs at Miami International airport after securing 5 kilos of pure China White coca at half price from your overseas connect. Your plan: to flood the streets of middle America with your coke, and with all the cash you make, buy that Porsche Boxster you’ve always wanted. As you’re dreaming about how you’ll be burning down the highway in your new set of wheels, the custom guy pokes his pocket knife through the false bottom of your suitcase and finds your stash…
What do you do?
a) Dip your nose into your coke stash and try to inhale all the evidence.
b) Slip the customs officer a crisp $1 bill and ask him to hook you up and look the other way.
c) Swear fervently that the suitcase isn’t yours and when they finally find a photo album with a picture of you and your Mom in it, break down and say, “Okay, guys—you got me.”
d) Break down and tell them the truth—those shady mafia squirrels made you do it.
Correct answer—b: You’ll probably overdose and die, but hey, it’s better than being Big Bubba’s bitch in a high-security penitentiary up north.

Painful, but it’s more idiotic than insane. Ryan the guru, however, has totally lost his mind.

I am Ryan,
Please publish me:

SACRIFICIAL FICTION
Your eyes to me were like civilian planes rammed into twin towers. When your hips swayed, for a moment the West was silent. Courageous presidents vowed to always protect you from there on in.
There was nothing more to say about it.
That morning, while you put on makeup, a sniper drove to a gas station where he shot a man filling his tank. Ransom was requested, sheriff posses assembled for the media. Twenty-four thousand people worldwide died of hunger and flights continued to depart on time, despite the lengthy lines. You had an appointment to meet me at a hotel room. You were trembling when you arrived; you said America had changed forever.
I opened the blinds. Your blouse was pale, translucent. I could see your nerves through your skin. The future smelt of ashes and the media.

That’s about a tenth of it.
Not everything we glean from America comes from submissions. Check out your average long-lost dad trying to reestablish connections with his son after 24 years.

Dear Justin,
How have you been? Real busy more than likely. I’m doing great! Better than I have felt in years; Working out at the gym and eating right for my blood type. Meditation and some yoga.
Listen Justin, I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching and such and I have a proposition for you. How would you like a visit from your long-lost biological old man? I’ll pay for everything. Like puttin’ us up in a hotel room and all that. I know I have never talked to you about very much at all. I have great “guilt & shame” issues. I have been dealing with them for what seems like ever & ever. Have seen a one-on-one counselor for many years. All that aside, we can talk about all that at some later date, if you even want to discuss it at all and I certainly would not blame you if you didn’t. I know I’ve hurt you to your soul son and I can’t change the past, I’ve banged my head against the wall trying many times. Thing is, I do not know if you are understanding how important your family roots are to your entire being. We can talk about what you want to and we cannot talk about any of it, it’s up to you…I just want and need to be in your life in some semblance. So let me know how you feel about this. You don’t have to feel any way about it, just please understand that I want to come and see you and get to know you and hopefully likewise. If this doesn’t go through I’ll contact your mother and find you so I can send this in the snail mail. I hope to here from you soon and I’m really serious about this, Justin.
Love ya, Dad

Good luck, pal. Speaking of pathetic, do you have any idea what dominatrixes go through? Check out this proposal sent to one of our favorite S&M sluts. Note the use of all caps.

This was handed out by some angry young man at a Sleater-Kinney show.