McInnes and his two VICE co-founders, Suroosh Alvi and Shane Smith, split due to "creative differences" last year in January; much of the speculation centered around McInnes' dislike of VBS.tv-Vice's video site-and their marketing/sales arm. Shortly after his departure, McInnes started Street Carnage, which features awesome things like their contributors getting punched in the face by ex-girlfriends and also, sincerely excellent insiders' takes on culture issues, like the death of "downtown" artist Dash Snow.

But now, the badasses at VICE have gone corporate, banning a photographer featured on Street Carnage from contributing to them as well. Writes Amy Kellner, VICE's managing editor, to "Vincent," the Street Carnage contributor:

"hiya, yes i got the cd, thank you.
unfortunately, if you do stuff for street carnage, then you can't contribute to vice at the same time.
those are my orders.
best,
amy kellner"

Ouch. VICE is still perfectly likable, often. They—plug—published Alex Pareene's great take on a trip to the museum, and there's plenty of great stuff on VBS.tv. But there's also a specific kind of cultural brand that's clearly—if at war with the only slightly less corporate Street Carnage, who're carrying a Nike ad on their site right now—at ridiculous odds with itself. And you'd think VICE would realize that this is the kind of thing that dilutes it.

Can't all the hipster media outlets just get along? Or at least: not be so much like the mainstream ones?

So, yeah, I love the Vice magazine angle on this story. Did you know you can score a job — a legit job, in a recession! — at a popular magazine by just being cute and charming? That's some tangible real-world lesson shit for the kids right there. If you're in the market, you might want to lose the paper printouts and get your résumé tattooed on your chest! Cooooool.

So I sent some of the Vice editorial staff a blind email on the matter, but no response (probably too busy doing background checks on the rest of their staff, understandable). But I did hear from former heart-and-soul of Vice, co-founder Gavin McInnes. He shared his unique perspective:

I realize hindsight is 20/20 but how awesome would it be if you knew a chick was a hipster grifter but didn't let on and dated her anyways? She'd fake cry during intercourse and tell you she wants to have your babies and you'd be all, "I know Kari. I've never loved anyone this much." How intensely dark and fucking weird would that be!?

You'd have to constantly avoid situations where you give her cash and you'd have to sleep with your credit cards up your ass but, as we've learned from seducing strippers, the more dough you put out the more you're seen as a dolt. She'd actually appreciate the challenge. Oh what a heavy thrill it would be watching her out of the corner of your eye, trying to predict her next hustle. Anyone with a junkie roommate knows how challenging this can be. You'd have to keep your laptop at work and all your CDs would need to go into storage but cheating a cheater must make you feel like God. I bet your hands would shake at the end of every encounter.

If you don't find this kind of idea exciting, you are precisely the sort of pussy hipster grifters prey on – and you deserve it.

Gavin McInnes founded Vice Magazine in 1994 but recently left to start Street Carnage with another assimilated negro.

Ha. Yeah, that's right you labia-lobotomized hipsters. Suck it.

Well after being enlightened to the edgy alternative universe perspective, I wanted to get grounded again in the reality of what's happening on the streets. So I talked to Doree, the journalist who broke the story, AND former Gawkette:

TAN: Will you be staying on top of the Grifter beat for the New York Observer? This story brings to mind Season 5 of The Wire, when they "surrounded" the homeless story once it got sensational enough. There's probably an entire subculture of grifters and aspiring-grifters out there waiting to be exposed?

Since the story ran I've heard tales of other grifters people have had the unfortunate experience of coming into contact with. They're certainly an intriguing group of people, but you just feel like at some point it starts just being sad more than anything else—the grifters themselves seem to have some serious mental health issues and the people they target are so emotionally and often financially drained from the experience. My (armchair) analysis is that it's partly the need to feel loved and taken care of (see Kari's constant hospitalizations under questionable circumstances) but taken to an unhealthy level. Connected to that is wanting to have power over people (Kari's suicide attempts and "pregnancy" scares, tellingly, seemed to come when it seemed like a guy was about to leave her, or when he was on tour with his band—she would make it so that he "couldn't" leave her). I think people with these kinds of issues are also deeply, deeply lonely; in one of my follow-ups to the original story I told about how she made up intricate lies to get someone to go to a concert with her. Many of her victims also said that she always seemed to have something to offer people, and I would bet that she did that because she was nervous about being alone.

But I think there's also the thrill of getting away with it all; knowing they have the power to manipulate people to such a degree must give grifters a kind of high. Kari knows she comes off as friendly and personable, which is why she's able to manipulate people so skillfully.

True that. Well here's hoping Kari reaches out to Doree, it'd be nice if they could work together on giving us this full story.

Finally, after those updates I'm thinking business now. And if you're a blogger, that means book deal. Many of the commenteratti think there are some big-time royalties to be earned on this story. Are they right? I asked a big-time book editor if they're hot on the meme:

As we say in the business, "there's no there there." Girl meet boy, girl dupes boy. Girl has bitchin' tats and boy possibly has Asian fetish. Boy loses girl, money and self-respect. The End.

Sounds kinda like an Ethan Hawke novel, now that I think about it. Which is the first sign publishers should stay far, far away.

And who would write the thing anyway? Kari? Yeah, because she's exactly the kind of person you can trust to honor a contract and a cash advance. So...no. Not gonna happen.

It's also worth pointing out that there have been a bunch of juicy stories that have gotten major play in the NY media fishbowl recently that have yielded exactly ZERO book deals. Anyone remember the DABA girls? They managed to dupe the NY Times into writing a serious trend piece and then released a statement saying "Oh, it was satire! Totes jk, y'all." But of course, right after they were "exposed" a story appeared in Fashionista saying they had a book deal—and sites like Jezebel jumped all over the book deal story. Now, no book deal was ever made—it was a classic case of getting a little notoriety and then planting some leads in the hopes that a publisher would bite. No one did. The agent still has not sold that b.s., nor will she. Ultimately there was no there there, and while someone might have taken a flyer 5 years ago when we were more flush, these days, publishers are a lot more wary about throwing real money around. Kari will just have to find some other sucker to fund her hipsterness. And really, I have complete confidence she will.

A senior book editor who prefers anonymity considering the sensational nature of this story

image: via

From: Gavin McInnes
Date: Jan 23, 2008 9:42 AM
Subject: new email
To: Gavin McInnes

Dear children of my corn,

I no longer have anything to do with Vice or VBS or DOs & DON'Ts or any of that. It's a long story but we've all agreed to leave it at "creative differences," so please don't ask me about it.

I'm going to continue to make fun of people's pants and offend as many of you as possible, but I'll be doing it at streetcarnage.com, a new company I started with Big Pinky.

There's a ton of other projects in the works, including books, a movie, comics, TV shit, etc and I'll announce them on the site as they blossom into fruition like a hundred humid vaginas in the presence of God's boner.

My new email is gavin@streetcarnage.com.

Epilogue: Shortly after this picture was taken, McInnes' jealous 20-year-old son OD'd on diet pills.

Earlier: Vows: Emily Jendriasak and Gavin McInnes

Then here we are, ten years later, and you find a copy of Vice on the counter at a downtown boutique that sells only three styles of leather boots, two nylon backpacks studded with industrial rivets, and a pearl inlay mini-dildo, and your instinctive first reaction is: They're still shoveling this thing out the door?

The Vice branding push hasn't been limited to the free mag. You got Vice shops, plus various attempts at TV, movie, and record deals, not to mention the Vice guidebooks and a standalone DOs and DON'Ts tome. The Vice "lifestyle" requires constant novelty of offense, whether it's sexual, racial, social, or aesthetic. Trouble is, this strong drink ruins you for the binge — it only takes an issue or two to inoculate against the shock. Then you'll find yourself skipping the text entirely, skimming the photos, and tossing the whole mess in less than three minutes. The fact that McInnes and his successors at Vice pride themselves on playing the role of bohemian champions means they'll say anything to anyone just to get a reaction, and in this way they've pranked many an unsuspecting square or clueless reporter. They'll say whatever they can against the prevailing opinions of whoever they're speaking to, meaning that anything they say can be funny, but none of it means much. And if you already know their mission statement, where's the rest of the joke? Rather than the bohemian terrorist Vice wants to be, it ends up reading like a celebration of its own hedonism. You're merely supposed to congratulate them on having such a great time. Nothing wrong with that, but all it finally proves is that vice is much more enjoyable to practice than to read about.

Emily Jendrisak, daughter of Christine Jendrisak and Jerry Jendrisak of Madison, Wisconsin, was married Saturday, September 17th to Gavin Miles McInnes, son of James McInnes and Loraine McInnes of Nepean, Ontario. Edgar Burns Crutchfield III performed the ceremony at Sunset View Farms in Bovina, New York.

The couple met five years ago at Max Fish, a bar in the Lower East Side. Coincidentally, Emily, a 31-year-old publicist and consultant in Manhattan, had just returned from a wedding.

Mrs. McInnes graduated with honors from San Francisco State University in communications and journalism. Her father is the co-founder of Epicentre Technologies, a biotechnology company in Madison. Her mother (born Christine Whiterabbit), now retired, was the Director of the Ho Chunk Tribe of Wisconsin's Research Committee, and worked towards the preservation of the Ho Chunk language.

Mr. McInnes, 35, is the co-founder of a multi-channel youth culture brand Vice, best known for its eponymous record label, magazine, and website. Gavin graduated without honors from Carleton University in English literature. His father is the Vice-President of Operations at Gallium, a high-tech company specializing in defense. His mother is a retired business teacher.

Additional reporting contributed by Gavin McInnes.