Vice is cooler than your cool uncle's cool uncle. It has photographs of naked polyglot brunettes, impeccably cruel music reviews, crueler Dos and Don'ts, columns on video games and heavy drugs ("I like swimming through a sea of warm blankets fresh from the euphoria dryer as much as the next person"), plus fiction by Ann Beattie and Jim Shepard. It smells like Parliaments, looks like Al Goldstein and reads like Ryszard Kapuściński.
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