You probably remember the old Vice. Not the sanitized, corporate version that hit a wall and spiraled into bankruptcy recently, but the raw, "shitting in a sink" version of the early 2000s. It was the bible of cool for people who hated everything mainstream. At the center of that chaos was Gavin McInnes.
He wasn't just a founder; he was the guy who defined the "Vice" voice. That mix of irony, offensive humor, and total disregard for social norms. But then he left. And while Vice tried to become a multi-billion dollar news empire, McInnes went down a path that led to the Proud Boys and a permanent ban from basically every corner of the internet.
The story isn't just about a business breakup. It’s about how the "edgy" humor of the nineties morphed into something much more polarized and, frankly, dangerous.
Why Gavin McInnes Left Vice Media (The Real Story)
The official line back in 2008 was "creative differences." We've all heard that before. It's the corporate way of saying "we can't stand each other anymore."
Honestly, the split was inevitable. Vice was growing up. Or at least, it was trying to get advertisers like Intel and MTV to give them millions of dollars. You can’t exactly do that when your co-founder is writing "The Vice Guide to Picking Up Chicks" or bragging about how much he loves being around only white people in Williamsburg.
McInnes has said in later interviews, specifically with The New Yorker, that the business plan changed. He liked the idea of editorial and marketing being enemies. He wanted to be the "madman in a cage." But when Vice started looking for that $4 billion valuation, the madman became a liability. Shane Smith, the other face of Vice, was the salesman. He saw the path to HBO and global dominance. That path didn't have room for Gavin’s brand of shock humor that was starting to look less like a joke and more like a manifesto.
By the time he officially exited, the bridge wasn't just burned—it was nuked.
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The Pivot from Hipster to Far-Right Provocateur
After Vice, McInnes didn't just fade away. He tried the ad agency thing with Rooster, and he did some bit parts on Adult Swim, but he clearly missed the pulpit.
He started a site called Street Carnage. He wrote for Taki’s Magazine. He even had a stint at Rebel Media in Canada. But the "hipster godfather" was changing. The irony that fueled early Vice articles started to dry up. He began talking about "Western values" and "traditional masculinity" with a sincerity that scared his old Brooklyn friends.
In 2016, he founded the Proud Boys.
He claims it started as a joke—a drinking club for guys who were tired of apologizing for being men. They even took their name from a song in the Aladdin musical. But it didn't stay a joke. It became a "pro-Western" fraternal organization that the FBI eventually labeled an extremist group.
Watching this unfold was weird for anyone who grew up reading his "Dos and Don'ts" fashion critiques. It was like seeing your funny, offensive uncle actually join a cult.
Vice Media's Slow Collapse and the Ghost of Gavin
While McInnes was building his "army," Vice Media was becoming a behemoth. They were the "cool" news company. They went into war zones wearing Converse and t-shirts. They got $450 million from TPG Capital. They were valued at $5.7 billion at their peak.
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But they never really escaped the culture Gavin helped build.
Underneath the shiny HBO documentaries, the company was plagued by a "boys club" culture. In 2017, a massive New York Times investigation detailed a history of sexual harassment and a toxic workplace. It turned out that the "edgy" environment McInnes pioneered had fermented into something genuinely harmful for the people working there.
The Bankruptcy Era
Fast forward to 2023. The hype bubble finally popped. Vice filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy.
It was a messy fall. They were bought by a group of creditors led by Fortress Investment Group for a measly $350 million—a fraction of what they were once "worth." By early 2024, they stopped publishing on Vice.com altogether and laid off hundreds of people.
Interestingly, as of late 2025 and heading into 2026, Vice is trying a weird comeback. They raised about $75 million in new credit to pivot back to "Vice Studios," focusing on crime and counter-culture. They’re basically trying to find their soul again, but without the baggage of the founders.
Where is Gavin McInnes Now in 2026?
If you're looking for him, you won't find him on Twitter (X) or YouTube. He’s been scrubbed.
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McInnes mostly operates through his own platform, Censored.TV. He still hosts "Get Off My Lawn," where he leans into the "cancelled" persona. He’s spent the last few years entangled in legal battles, including a long-running defamation lawsuit against the Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC) for calling the Proud Boys a hate group.
In late 2025, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Eleventh Circuit was still dealing with his petitions. He’s lost most of these rounds, but he uses the "persecution" as fuel for his remaining audience.
He’s a man in a very specific silo. To his fans, he’s a free-speech martyr. To the rest of the world, he’s a cautionary tale of what happens when "ironic" edge-lording turns into actual radicalization.
The Legacy: Was It All a Mistake?
Looking back at the Vice Media Gavin McInnes era, it’s hard not to feel a bit of whiplash.
Vice changed journalism. They made it visceral and personal. They covered stories the grey-haired guys at the Associated Press wouldn't touch. But they also exported a specific kind of nihilistic "cool" that didn't have a moral compass.
McInnes provided the spark, but he couldn't control the fire—or maybe he just didn't want to.
Actionable Takeaways for Media Consumers
If you're following the trajectory of modern media, here’s what you should keep in mind about this saga:
- Watch the "Irony" Trap: Many movements that start as "just a joke" or "ironic" often attract people who aren't joking. Whether it’s early Vice or the Proud Boys, the line between satire and sincerity is thinner than you think.
- Scale Kills Authenticity: Vice’s downfall was trying to be a multi-billion dollar corporation while maintaining a "punk" image. If you're building a brand, decide early if you're a niche disruptor or a corporate player. Trying to be both usually leads to bankruptcy.
- The Digital Paper Trail is Permanent: McInnes’s comments from 2002 and 2003 are what eventually made him toxic to mainstream advertisers and partners. In the age of AI-driven search, your "edgy" past will always be a click away.
The era of the "Hipster King" is over. Vice is a shell of itself, and Gavin is broadcasting from the fringes. It’s a reminder that in media, the only thing more dangerous than being boring is being "cool" for all the wrong reasons.