Chris Nieratko’s American Hardcore

The Vice columnist and former ‘Jackass’ says screw taboo. (And then he screwed some stripper named Taboo.)

By Claire Crighton

Chris Nieratko, left, and the bride on her special day.

For Chris Nieratko, nothing is sacred. In his porn column, the former “Jackass” stunt-boy (or is it stunted man-boy?) regales Vice readers with vivid details from his grimy past—bar fights, pill-popping, and hookups gone awry. Kicking off its new line of books, Vice recently published Nieratko’s collected oeuvre in one squalid volume, Skinema, and sent the self-destructive author on the road. Touring bookstores and skate shops throughout the U.S., Nieratko was impressed by the number of fans who matched his straightforward storytelling with their own seamy anecdotes. “People being honest—I think that's the achievement of the book,” he reflects. “I'm getting people to talk about all these things that you're normally not supposed to say anything about.” In keeping with Skinema’s honesty laid bare, Chris Nieratko opens up about freezer burn, midget porn, and picturing his mom naked.

BLACKBOOK: Tell me about your book tour.

CHRIS NIERATKO: Generally, I do a little slideshow—I don’t read from the book. I don’t consider myself much of a reader. I don’t really consider myself much of a writer, actually.

BB: What’s the crowd like—all Vice hipsters?

CN: There are a good portion of young gentlemen wearing women’s-sized clothing with top hats, yes, but my community of skateboarders also comes out. Me and my friends and fans are rather lowbrow, so there aren’t many berets and sweaters. There are always loose, tattooed women who come to see if I’m as handsome as I am in all my pictures. They’re always pleased to find out that I am.

This one guy drove up from Connecticut to Boston and gave me ten burnt CDs—every Ghostface song ever made, because he knew I love Ghostface. Then he took me and all my friends out for dinner. He kept talking about how I had to stay with him in Connecticut. I’m not too big on Connecticut—too many white people there, makes me nervous—but he said he’d send a helicopter.

BB: You should take him up on that!

CN: I’d probably end up in a freezer, cut into pieces.

BB: You must hear a lot of crazy stories.

CN: Yeah, that’s one of the best things about the tour. Last night, I met a girl who told me that she found her mom’s porn stash when she was twelve. She sat down to watch it, thinking she was going to learn something new about the world. Instead, she learned something new about her mom—it was all midget porn.

BB: Do you get nervous before appearances?

CN: Give me five people, and I’ll have them all in bed with me in an hour or two—charm the pants off of them. Give me forty and I’m a bumbling idiot. I think my grandmother has a lot to do with it. When I was a kid, we would go to church, and I’d always want to sit up front. But my grandmother told me you could never sit in front. She said people would look at my butt. Now, I always think people are looking at, you know, my front butt. Throw some pretty girls in the crowd and I’m a mess, thinking about how they’re picturing me naked.

BB: Aren’t you supposed to picture them naked?

CN: Funny you should say that. I was the best man at my brother’s wedding, and I completely winged the speech. I got up there and was like, “I asked for advice about the speech, and a lot of people said I should picture everyone naked. But a lot of people also said it’s good to always look at your mom. So now I’m picturing my mom naked.” It broke the ice, but now, when speaking in public, I still get this picture of my naked mom.

BB: Tell me about porn conventions.

CN: Porn conventions are something special. The one I go to is held in Las Vegas during the largest electronic expo, so you have all these nerdy, rabid, socially inept gentlemen with access to this seedy, dirty sex event. They should replace the carpets with sponge—all these guys with their mouths open, drool bubbling out.

BB: What’s the best music festival you’ve ever been to?

CN: I’d have to say Ozzfest. I was watching Pantera, right in front of the pit. I didn’t go in because I didn’t want to spill my beer. As I was standing there, this big guy—this huge guy—got bumped by this smaller guy. The big guy turned around and just pummeled him. There was blood everywhere. I looked over and it was this buddy of mine that I hadn’t seen in years, and I was like, “Hey, how’re you doing?” and he was like, “Hey man, what’s up?” I guess that’s why festivals are good—you never know who you’re going to bump into.

Photos courtesy Chris Nieratko.