Summer holidays

I'm still trying to get used to Christmas and New Year in the Summer down under, even after all these years. The gaudy festive decorations don't help, of course, since they usually refer to Wintry landscapes, dark nights and Winter food. The usual response is to ignore it all and try to get through as normal as possible, and when the weather's nice it really is rather glorious on the beach these days before the holiday crowds arrive from next week onwards.

It's also a time of year to catch up with one or two movies ignored at the time of their release. Two years ago it was the complete set of Lord of the Rings and last year it was American History X.

This year, after an afternoon of binge drinking, strip poker playing and completing heat one of the Palm Beach Cocksucking Contest, it was time for Shortbus.
A disappointing and sometimes very boring movie, which tries to highlight particular New York sexual neuroses (done already ad nauseam in stuff like Sex & The City) in a particularly graphic way: erections, cumshots, group sex, deviant sex positions, the lot.
The characters represent a neat set of sexual problems and we're invited to have a peek into their world and how they're trying to deal with it.
I was particularly impressed how the sex therapist dealt with one of her clients: a good slap in the face. Most of the characters would have benefited from that or a good spanking. But instead it was interminable and often inscrutable what exactly was wrong with them or what they were looking for.
For all the sexual graphics in the movie, it was rather tame and seen and done before - as the host of the Shortbus club said: "like the 60s but without the hope". The sex depiction was hardly subversive, groundbreaking or original (try a good Fellini or Pasolini instead).
But there were two scenes which were instantly memorable: One, the dominatrix displaying her range of dildos and toys on the window sill of her trust-fund brat/john/client's apartment overlooking the gaping holes of the Twin Towers - the sacrilege of that imagery shouldn't be missed by any patriot itching for a good cat-o-nine tails trashing. And two, the gay threesome during which the American national anthem was bugled into an asshole while cocks were sucked in a most musical manner. It was instantly recognisable and quintessential American sex, something Fellini of course couldn't have done. And it was pornography with a sense of humour, something hardly ever heard or seen, but for which I long.
Totty award to Raphael Barker. His one and only film role ever.

Sex (of a sort) in the news

From the Manawatu Standard:

"A student masturbated in changing rooms in Kmart because he was under exam stress, a Palmerston North court heard yesterday.
But a judge said he doubted this was the whole story because he had a report that suggested the 24-year-old was sexually aroused by trying on new trousers."

They're the wrong trousers, Your Honour! And they've gone wrong!

"However, Judge Gregory Ross in the end decided not to convict the masturbator, who admitted offensive behaviour in the store, and banned publication of his name. He ordered a $100 payment toward the cost of prosecution."

What, the store didn't get the dry cleaning bill refunded? But, on the other hand, you now know the true meaning of the term "shop-soiled".

"It happened in the middle of the day on December 5, Sergeant Chris Whitmore told the hushed court."

Yes, hush, citizens. Let's have this criminal judged by a jury of his peers.

"The student went into the changing rooms with two pairs of trousers, pulled down his own trousers, sat on the floor of one of the rooms, and began his venture into onanism."

Don't you just love the poetic expressiveness of English metaphors. Venture into Onanism, it almost sounds like an airline advertising tag or a would-be interesting episode of Songs of Praise.

"But there was a metre gap between door and floor and two people saw what he was doing. The police were called and the man confessed, Mr Whitmore said. Defence lawyer Steve De Vorms said stress before his client's final exams was the most likely explanation for what he did, which came "completely out of the blue".
But Judge Ross then said there was a suggestion in a report he had that it might also have come about through the defendant trying on new trousers.
"This was a private act in a public place." he said."

I have heard that guys trying on their new leather pants get an involuntary sexual reaction, nothing abnormal about that, really. Who hasn't felt the thrill of a new pair of stretch jeans on one's thighs?
The witnesses should have been cross-examined better: like, which hand was he using? His full fist or just a few fingers? Was his underwear down too? How far down were the new trousers? Was he able to reach the destination during his venture into onanism? Did he use his old trousers to wipe off the evidence? The court would have been even more hushed when hearing that sort of forensic details essential to be able to mete out proper justice.

"Mr De Vorms said the masturbation was an aberration, something his client wasn't proud of."

The judge should have pulled up the defence lawyer for telling lies: masturbation isn't an aberration, it's the most widely and universally practiced sexual variant in the world, ever. And it's nothing to be ashamed of. Pride has nothing to do with it.

"Judge Ross said the defendant's offending was at the lower end of the scale. People could see him, but he couldn't see them."

The hallmark of a true, professional showman, it seems, oblivious to his audience appreciation, and instead totally immersed in his art and entertainment.

Bali Hai

I'm doing my bit to reduce my carbon footprint by consuming huge amounts of locally made Waiheke Island wine at various Christmas parties around town these days, so blog writing has been taking a backseat for the time being.
Something topical regards climate change caught my eye the other day on DW TV when a reporter travelled to Siberia to look at methane emissions as the permafrost melts. The hardy and lonely Russian climate researcher in Siberia said methane emissions were five times larger than previously estimated, and methane is a greenhouse gas that is far more efficient in greenhousing than carbon-dioxide. That release may dwarf carbon-dioxide emissions we are all fretting about and is creating a feedback loop that emission caps, carbon taxes or trading would not stop. The Siberian tundra is busy collapsing into a huge amount of tiny lakes and broken hillsides due to the methane release - lighting the methane gas bubbles coming up from under the ice looked spectacular and singed more than the reporter's eyebrows. The whole area would become even more inaccessible as it is now. That might not be a big deal unless you want to go there but it just showed to me that that there is no way out of climate change no matter what Bali negotiators, carbon traders and technology buffs come up with.
Will this mean in the future all fresh air will have a tinge of rotten egg smell to it? Will sea levels rise by 15 metres so we will have our own boat jetty at the bottom of our driveway? Is there any way to be optimistic in the climate issue?

12 months of politicking ahead, oh joy!

Next year there will be general elections in New Zealand and the United States, so we better get the fun bits out of the way before the nasty stuff starts.
USA Today has a nifty little test for you where they ask you questions and then match your views with a presidential candidate.
It turns out I should be voting for Dennis Kucinich, a fair enough choice for my case, I think. It was far more disconcerting to see the runner up choices for me would be Republicans Mitt Romney and Mike Huckabee.

UPDATE: I've redone the test because I forgot to set the sliders. Now my result is 1. Kucinich, 2. Rudy Giuliani, 3. Mike Gravel

I haven't slept yet this week

You must think me crazy for wanting to watch television after a hard day's work in television land, but I do, so I maybe am. But who can resist such a wonderful smorgasbord of British comedy every night this month on NZ's version of UK TV?
Complete reruns of Fawlty Towers, Absolutely Fabulous, Little Britain, Two Pints of Lager And A Packet of Crisps, Shameless (all every night), plus a gaggle of shows I hadn't seen before and will look forward to. It just amuses me greatly.
A surprising gem so far has been My Life in Film, and based on watching just one episode - a delicious remake of Hitchcock's Rear Window, minus the gorgeous Grace Kelly, but with a gormless male flatmate of the voyeur - I'm looking forward to seeing the rest of the series.
Fawlty Towers just looks as fun as ever, it never bores me, and I trust it never bores you either.
No gay household is complete with its one-liners from AbFab being banded about, even 15 years after the first series was made. My favourite one is:

Edina [talking about Germaine Greer]: "Mr Gravity has been very unkind to that woman."

I'm a bit unsure about Little Britain. Not all sketches, recurring threads and characters are a triumph, especially the PM's gay assistant Sebastian, the granny humper and the Fat Fighting woman are very unfunny. But narrator Tom Baker is just brilliant and by far my favourite bit in the series.
It's so good to see Frank and his brood again in Shameless, and I do want to stay up for that until way past my bedtime. I love it that the camera always wants to get Lip's delectable naked pasty-white arse in the frame.
I shall just have to put match sticks between my eyelids lest I miss one nanosecond of this televisual feast.