Don't drop the soap

As far as board games go, this surely beats Monopoly. A new board game has been invented by the son of Governor of Kansas, Kathleen Sebelius, and it features a prison setting where you need to avoid all the bad boys there, lest you be drugged, raped, killed or get your difficult to reach body parts thoroughly washed by the Aryans.
Aptly named "Don't Drop the Soap", it comes with some fun accessories, but I'm sure you can add your own to spice up the game. I like the suggested idea to make your own game tokens in the shape of your favourite prison character from a TV series like Oz, American History X or Prison Break. You can make a Jono Wilson character, using an earlier blog entry about him. Or simply a cut out of your favourite fantasy cellmate or punk. I'd choose from Ben Cohen, Prince Harry or Aaron McCusker.

Cops to police moral panic spreading in New Zealand

There may be an unfortunate spate of murders since the New Year in New Zealand, but our boys in blue have far bigger moral fish to fry. A crackdown (no less, according to the Sun newspaper in Britain) on a popular dress code among fans of rugby 7s, the mankini, inspired by Borat, because the rugby 7s is supposed to be a "family" event.
Never mind that your average youth will hit you in the head or laugh at you out loud when you are wearing a mankini, the one thing he won't be is scared or offended by it.
And don't the cops know that a rugby 7s event is for adults only, to get boisterously drunk and to dress outrageously up?
in this Summer weather we're having it's a delight to see that men dress appropriately and daringly. Viewing and attendance figures can only improve - we all know rugby can do with that after last year's debacle. The policemen should offer to apply sunscreen on the mankini boys instead of booking them (unless as models)

Outside the comfort zone

24%

I'm sure when the moment arrives we all act and react differently to what we get assessed as by a silly questionnaire. So yes, I will now start thinking about what part of your body I would eat in an emergency.

John Waters's axiom rings true again

"All men look better under arrest" has rarely been illustrated so accurately than in the North Shore courtroom this week, when one of the accused of a vicious assault on two couples stood before the judge with his prison boiler suit stripped down to the waist.
I don't know whether this show was a result of a do-or-dare concocted by the remand prisoners, or a particularly blatant advertisement for his body by Jonathon "Jono" Paul Wilson. In any case, if I were a jailbird I'd be licking my chops in anticipation of what may be coming my way as a cell mate for what will undoubtedly Mr Wilson's best years of his life. Prison isn't usually kind on lithe adolescent bodies, as they frequently come out overweight and adorned with fight marks and home made tattoos. He'll be a blank canvas to work on, if the judge allows it.

Picture from the NZ Herald

Hollywood Babylon continues

It was sad to hear of the demise of Heath Ledger, but isn't a drugs overdose so 1980s? Hell knows why he chose to pop so many, so we shall remember him by his work and here are the links to my past tributes to Mr Ledger.

Summer holidays 2

Yeah, yeah, I know, I haven't posted anything this year, mainly because it has been hugely hectic at work and when I get home I don't feel like sitting inside much but with all this mighty fine Summer weather, the beach beckons so much more seductively than a computer.
I trust you all survived the holidays satisfactorily too.
Our main news is that we have two very cuddly new housemates, which we got at the SPCA on New Year's Eve: two brother kittens who were surrendered with their mother and put up for adoption. So now they have settled in for a few weeks now, treating the house alternately as a 24/7 jungle gym, frat party pad and fast food restaurant. It's just like having kids that grow up from baby to adult within 12 months, but at least they came potty trained.
The tabby one is called Linus (that's after my great-grandfather) and the black and white one is called Oliver, which is Ewen's middle name.
They're busy getting the hang of the pet door system, and life is pretty much an endless cycle of eating, sleeping, grooming and tearing around, regardless of the human hours of the day or night.

The funnest news item over the Summer has been Corey Delaney's shenanigans, and whose parents no doubt wished he had upped and left within 12 months too.
The 16 year old would-be frat boy decided it was a good idea to throw a party at his place while his parents were on holiday. Nothing special about that, I hear you say, we have all been there. (I threw a party once but I invited only female friends, I don't remember what the occasion was but I do remember loud and incessant banging on the front door by hordes of guys who thought it impermissible I could have a party with 20 girls to which they were not invited. I can remember waking up, not quite wearing what I was was at the start of the evening. Nothing scandalous had ensued - but I was never able to convince my male friends to do a male version).
Our Corey has such standing within his adolescent community that about 500 of his mates turned up. And really, it's not difficult to see why our boy is so popular: he takes extreme care of his image, as is wont of savvy dudes in this media age, complete with signature plastic yellow over-sized sunglasses and never wearing t shirts under his hooded parka to ensure full exposure of his toned little bod complete with nipple ring.
Foreign and domestic news media couldn't resist the story from all angles - from moral panic to social commentary to fashion commentary, and an instant celebrity was born.