Dear Vice, I thought you might consider this old dear for inclusion. It appears she wanted to go out and grab a lemonade at the local diner, but may have got a bit carried away with her makeup. Bless her, HANNAH
I’m a weed delivery guy. Business has been kind of weird ever since Wall Street’s little heart attack last week. Surprisingly it hasn’t slowed down, but everything is more of a hassle. For instance, lately whenever someone hands over money they kind of pull it back before finally giving it up. Or they’ll place it down on a table—people are much more reluctant to literally hand over the cash. Also, a lot of people have been asking if I’ll sell them less than $50 worth of pot. The answer is no. I’m not riding my ass to your house for a dime bag. My favorite though is when I get to a destination and the person who called asks if I can spot them. I just reach in my pockets and pull out some green lint. Why are you people wasting my time?
Dear Vice, I hate flatmates who leave bitchy notes instead of just talking about the problem, be it washing up, unpaid bills, stealing food or whatever. But in the long and venomous history of correspondence between people in shared accommodation, I think this one deserves a mention for layout and design. I love how the gesticulation is in quote marks. Hope you like it. SALLY
On a typical day at Vice, I get anywhere between twenty to fourteen-hundred fan emails a day. I usually just carry on with my life while feeling spriteful but today was a different situation; I actually read one. I recieved an anonymous email from a T-Baby fan hipping me to this fly remix of the classic cut It's So Cold In The D. As if this incendiary rap anthem wasn't perfect enough, we now can wet our T-Baby dipsticks even more with a killer re-working of this masterpiece. Mr. Anonymous, I truly appreciate it.
My mum called and told me she'd
found a box of my belongings that she thought I'd want
to see. I went home, opened the box and found letters, poems, newspaper
cuttings, concert tickets and these pictures that I lovingly drew of my childhood idol Michael Jackson...
My Polish cousin, Paulina, sent me some bootleg cassettes from the 1980s which were recorded on a tape recorder at a metal festival in communist-era Poland. This was apparently the only way this music could be distributed at the time. This was my first taste of Jarocin festiwal...
Dear Vice, When the Soviets left Afghanistan in the late 1980s they left behind the blood and bones of thousands of their soldiers, a deep and abiding hatred for all things Russian, the most experienced insurgents in the world, and billions of dollars worth of equipment. (Is it any wonder that their economy collapsed a few years later?) Most of it is rusting and rotting away where it was left, or in junkyards. If the Afghan people were a bit more ambitious and/or organized, they'd be stripping this stuff down and recycling it. It's possible that some of the engines could be rebuilt, some of the vehicles might be salvageable, and all of the metal, rubber, and glass is recyclable. I'm sure that individuals have picked over this debris and junk here and there, but there has been no organized or consistent effort. This stuff will probably still be here in 50 years. Here are a couple of pictures of some of it. GREG PAPADATOS
Jokes about the Asian misuse of "Engrish" are a bit tired, but the seriousness on this guy's face, in spite of the comical T-shirt he's wearing, is still pretty jokes. Wifey does not look best pleased with hubby's whole look. Which is kind of understandable considering that they're posing for family photographs outside Beijing's Forbidden City. Saying that, it was shorts weather.
Dear Vice, I've always been of the view that only stupid people adhere stickers, logos, add-ons, cushions, toys or custom plates to their cars. Don't even start with those "Baby On Board" signs. But this jeep, which I passed on the way to work this morning, has forged a new low. Its owner feels compelled to tell the world "I'M HORNY" followed by "NO SHIT." And to make matters ickier, on the other side of the window there's a sticker that says: "I'm retired and lovin' it!". Sod off, grandpa! BRUCE
Reading your glossy pages makes my hands feel like a skinned mini-horse getting acupuncture, whilst the Spanish Armada regurgitates from my mouth. Thank you. They are good feelings.
I like to draw pictures.
History is fun.