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Teagan Presley: Photo spread and interview with one of Digital Playground's hottest starlets. More»
2-04-2003



Forbidden fruit dooms teacher

Soft lighting, a little background music, a condom, and a banana.

Yes, ladies, it does sound a bit like Friday night at my flat. (Though probably without the banana, as I'm a bit leery of comparisons…)

But no, this was the scene in Mr. Nicholas' class at Gulf Coast High School in Naples, Florida. Apparently, Colin Nicholas' intention was to replicate a real-life situation that students might encounter while fraternizing with the opposite sex, so he dimmed the lights, put on some Christmas carols (?!), and god knows what happened after that… details are a bit sketchy.

Nicholas says he believes strongly in proper sex education for kids, and while images of South Park's Mr. Garrison and his dildo-related mouth/condom demonstration come to mind, these are high school kids we're talking about; surely they've seen much worse. I know I had at that age, and I was fairly sheltered, and this was a hundred years ago.

Nevertheless, for better or for worse it comes as no surprise that when little Johnny and Janey came home with tales of prophylactic tropical fruit adventures in class, the parents of Naples were not very impressed. Complaints poured into the school administrators.

And since Nicholas was newly hired and on a 97-day introductory probationary period anyway, the Collier County School Board didn't exactly need to wring its hands over the decision to send Nicholas and his bananas packing. (Sucky as it may be, would we really expect them to take the high road, be brave, and tell these overreacting bible-thumpers to get a grip?)

I don't know, I guess the only part of this story that I can't seem to wrap my head around is the whole Christmas carol thing. I guess, as weird as it is, it's a lot more appropriate than Barry White or R. Kelly. That would have been wrong.

Ipswich sex shops shook down

When is a sex shop a sex shop? When is a shop that sells sex aid items not a sex shop?

This was the question put before the local council in Ipswich, northeast of London, where two boutiques had been raided last year for selling video nasties and paraphernalia without a license.

The shops, Secrets in Norwich Road and Risqué in Upper Orwell Street, were raided by trading standards officers after local officials received word that they were operating as sex shops.

But meanwhile, another local boutique, Anne Summers, which sells some racy items of its own, was not considered. Helen James, commercial sector manager, tried to explain the disparity.

"Anne Summers is not a sex shop because the majority of what it sells is not overtly sexual," James said. "When a shop needs a license is when it is deemed the sex articles become significant. But if any R18 videos are on sale, restricted videos rather than just 18s, that automatically means the shop would require a license."

Secrets and Risqué both have some amount of recourse in the action, as they are both applying for the requisite licenses. Residents living near the proposed shop in Secrets have until February 7 to make their objections known to the council. The deadline to object to Risqué has already past.

If approved, these shops would be the first fully licensed sex shops in Ipswich. The applications will both go before a licensing committee made up of 11 counselors sometime this year, and hopefully local residents will soon after enjoy the gentle hum of vibrators in their homes.

Night in the Ruts

It's fairly common knowledge that if a man gets kicked in the nuts hard enough, the impact will cause him to become completely inert, and possibly to vomit.

But who knew that you could actually kill a man like this? (Rather than just make him plead in vain for death?)

Well, the same land that begat Mahatma Ghandi has also begat some kind of ball-rupturing son of a bitch, an unnamed convict who doctors determined caused another man's death "by shock from injury to the testicles and scrotum."

Ugh. I don't feel so well.

The case has so outraged the Indian Supreme Court that they decided to increase the penalty for fatal injury to another's "private parts" to first-degree murder.

Sure, every man on the planet would find this ruling just, but don't exactly go celebrating in the streets just yet.

I'm sure I can think of many ways in which to punish someone guilty of such an abomination—decapitation, electrocution, being covered in soda and put in a room full of bees, these all seem perfectly appropriate.

Unfortunately, though, the new statute only provides for a maximum sentence of seven years.

Seven years? Shit, if the guy would have survived, it would have taken longer than that for his nuts to heal! Jesus!

Hmm… I like to say you can take a valuable lesson out of almost anything, and this is no exception. Ladies, I've always said you can (and should) take as many self-defense courses as you'd like, but the alpha and omega of any self-defense against men lay squarely betwixt his legs.

And if there's a better case for its effectiveness than the one described above, I haven't seen it.

News Briefs - by Steve Robles Top of the Guide

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