At 2:40 a.m., when Fox News decreed that Donald Trump had won, the crowd in the Gaslight erupted. Howling men in MAGA caps hoisted an ebullient McInnes into the air, crowd-surfing him across the throng. But life hadn’t been so joyous in the eight years since he’d left Vice, the Montreal magazine cum media conglomerate he’d cofounded in 1994 at age 24. He’d lost so much in the intervening years: friends, fistfights, the respect of peers, a stake in Vice Media Group’s future profits, presumably countless brain cells. In his departure letter from Vice, he’d vowed his ideas would one day “blossom into fruition like a hundred humid vaginas in the presence of God’s boner.” Now, here he was—a legal immigrant from Canada, living in the States on a green card—surrounded by 100 sweaty dudes, some waving cocktail-napkin-size U.S. flags.
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