The management of the Vienna State Opera and its ballet company says it has fired a ballerina for posing in the nude.

Solo dancer Karina Sarkissova was axed Aug. 23 after a series of provocative photos of her appeared in the September issue of the Austrian men's fashion and lifestyle magazine "Wiener."

"Wait," she said afterward. "I'm not supposed to be in 'Wiener'? I thought it was the other way around."

There was the man they called “Bob the Builder,” who wore only a hard hat. There was the naked sunbather who remarked, “Nice day for it, isn’t it?” to a woman taking a walk. And there was the moment, Jules Perkins said, when the dizzying array of sexual forces that have somehow descended on her blameless Surrey village came together all at once, like a scene from a one-size-fits-all X-rated film.

“There were two blokes sitting side by side, watching a man and a woman having sex,” Ms. Perkins said, describing what happened as she strolled with her dog on the hill between her house and the Hog’s Back ridge. “Nearby, there were two men sunbathing together, wearing nothing but tight little white underpants.”

Later, she found a pink vibrator in the bushes.

“I gave it to the police,” she said. “They said, ‘What should we do with it?’ I said, ‘Put it in Lost Property.’"

When I read this article on public sex in Britain, I thought it was a joke. The local residents are reasonable! People are being tolerant! The police are "tread[ing] lightly" because of the "bitter legacy of the time when gay sex was illegal and closeted men having anonymous sex in places like public bathrooms were routinely arrested and humiliated."

“Honestly, it’s been going on for so many years,” said Jennifer Debenham, 71. “I think we should just let them get on with it.”

Are you kidding me? There are reasonable heterosexuals somewhere in the world? In this bizarre parallel universe, in fact, the gays come off as the villains, leaving vast swaths of litter in their wake.

Debris — used condoms, things made of rubber, pages torn from pornographic magazines, snack wrappers, discarded tea cups — littered the area.

Tea cups? Tea cups? That's an unfortunate image. Now I'm picturing pale naked British dudes doing it with their pinkies in the air. Still, leave it to the British to make public sex civil.

MAN #1: I say, Cecil, would you mind particularly if we incorporated a spot of urination into our coitus?

MAN #2: That sounds most enjoyable, Cyril. (PAUSE.) Wait: who's going to be mother?

OK, that's it. Paris, get whatever the hell kind of plastic surgery you want, but LEAVE THAT POOR LITTLE DOG ALONE.

You wanna know what's really dangerous? Looking at this photo with eyes.

Halfway through Joe.My.God's website today I started to get really hungry, and for the life of me I couldn't figure out why. Finally it hit me: all those obscure political acronyms sounded like ingredients in my favorite food! See if you can tell which of the following are from the radical atheist leatherman's propaganda page and which are chemicals in Chicken McNuggets.

1. AFA
2. PHVO
3. ADF
4. SALP
5. DMPS
6. IGBP
7. AVP
8. TBHQ
9. RNC
10. SAPP
11. DOMA
12. AC360


ANSWERS:
2, 4, 5, 8 and 10 are in McNuggets. 1, 3, 6, 7, 9, 11 and 12 are from JMG.

1. American Family Association
2. Partially hydrogenated vegetable oil
3. Alliance Defense Fund
4. Sodium aluminum phosphate: antioxidant keeps fat from turning rancid
5. Dimethylpolysiloxane: toxic anti-foaming agent
6. Dan Savage's "It Gets Better" Project
7. Anti-Violence Project
8. Tertiary butylhydroquinone: preserves freshness, derived from petroleum, potentially deadly
9. Republican National Committee
10. Sodium acid pyrophosphate: antioxidant keeps fat from turning rancid
11. Defense of Marriage Act
12. Anderson Cooper 360

In an interview with The Daily News, [accused Stonewall Inn gay basher Christopher] Orlando's dad swore his 17-year-old boy was no bigot. "[I]t's not about Gays or race or any of that. We don't care about any of that stuff in this family." Had there been "an elephant" in the bathroom, "there probably would have been swings at the elephant," Don Orlando said.

Well, after his son screamed about how elephant bars were disgusting, and he didn't want no fuckin' pachy waving his trunk around him.

For Robert Thompson, a professor of popular culture at Syracuse University, the question is not why kids are asking for spaghetti tacos, but why they haven't asked for them sooner. "This combination seems to be an inevitability, sort of like chocolate and peanut butter running into each other on that Reese's commercial," he said. "The amazement should be only that it took 'iCarly' to bring it into our melting pot of a culture.

"Spaghetti tacos has made it possible to eat spaghetti in your car," he said. "It's a very important technological development."

So fuck you, lasers.

SCENE: Lobby of a downtown Citibank. The bank manager -- an officious, middle-aged woman in a dark blue business suit -- is talking to two young employees in sloppy shirts and cheap ties.

WOMAN: I just read this really inspiring story about four people: Everybody, Somebody, Anybody, and Nobody. There was an important job to do, and Everybody was asked to do it. But Everybody didn't do it, because he thought Somebody would do it. Then Anybody said he could do it, but Nobody did it. And Nobody said --

[Confused pause.] Wait. Everybody said --

No, Somebody said --

You know, maybe it's better if you read it yourself.

ONE OF THE GUYS: Yeah, I think that's probably right.

Friday night I went to see Laurie Anderson's show Delusion. Packed house. She told stories interspersed with freeform, ersatz jazz that sounded like a white person's version of klezmer.

It was fun, but depressing and not particularly insightful, all sickness and death and missed communications and unfulfilled desire. Two stories in particular stood out (totally paraphrased):

A ninety-year-old couple filed for divorce. All their friends were shocked. "Why bother?" one asked. "Why now?"

The wife replied, "We were waiting for the children to die."

Tears were streaming down my face. They were falling from my left eye because I love you. They were falling from my right eye because I can't stand you.

I didn't get it. I couldn't make the leap. I think she wanted to make a broad comment on life, but the first thing in my mind was, "Well, that's what you get when you marry Lou Reed."

For the second time in two months, an airport in Baotou, Inner Mongolia, was forced to shut to avoid a collision between a UFO which was refusing to take instructions from air traffic control.

Three flights to Baotou from Shanghai and Beijing were reportedly forced to circle the airport until the UFO got bored and wandered off.

Of course there's no photos, because who would bring a camera to the airport?

Because it's pretty easy to miss the plaque and roomful of dudes singing, "I Am What I Am."

Vietnam's ruling communist party isn't too psyched about the idea of its citizens using Facebook, so they've made their own version.

To get an account, you have to give your full, real name and government-issued I.D. number; this way, the government can monitor your usage and make sure you're not doing anything bad, like fomenting dissent.

Other differences? In the communist version you slap somebody instead of poking them, and those aren't animals in the cages at Farmville.

On October 9 -- which would have been John Lennon's 70th birthday -- City Winery hosts a tribute concert for the former Beatle, featuring live performances from Kimya Dawson, Freedy Johnston, and more. A special "Imagine" wine flight, curated by the winery, will accompany each set. City Winery, 155 Varick St at Vandam St. . . . Oct 9 at 9pm; $95-$225.

If John were still with us I think he'd say, "Imagine enjoying a series of buttery chardonnays and full-bodied merlots while being serenaded by half the Moldy Peaches and somebody who peaked at #54 on the Billboard Hot 100, for just a couple hundred bucks. Now it isn't hard to do!"

I've posted before about Thrillist. They insist that "Favorable reviews cannot be bought," and then they rave about some new designer showroom where a hedge fund manager's ex-wife sells sparkly cowboy culottes for $1,400 a pair. The disclaimer doesn't actually help their reputation. It's like finding a friend behind the counter at McDonalds and hearing him insist that he's not being paid. Maybe their reviews can't be swayed with money, but they can be easily won over by fugly clothes made for frat boys or forty dollar martinis decorated with real gold leaf.

Today Thrillist raves about GameCrush, with the somewhat-unbelievable headline "Internet gaming but now with pretty people." They provide profiles for some of them.

FoxR571 likes easygoing fun guys. Kaylagirl loves "dirty talk" and high kill scores on Call of Duty. Sexykitty likes kitties and strawberries, and she wants to "play with your joystick."

What's the catch? You have to pay these women to play videogames with you.

"Endlessly playing video games isn't a great way to meet girls," the modern-day Solomons declare, "but you know what is? Money."

Now, I've gotta say, that's real progress. No more paying woman to accompany us to motels to blow us: now we're paying woman to accompany us to virtual worlds to kill zombies who want to eat our brains.

This recommendation leaves me staring in disbelief. Really, what kind of crowd are they aiming for? If you were thinking to yourself, "I'm a complete social outcast but I don't have the confidence to pick up whores," then this is the tip for you. Personally, though, I'm not sure they should be encouraging this kind of thing. Rather than provide such a ridiculous way for housebound geeks to talk with women, maybe they should help the guys out of the basement first. It reminds me of those websites where anorexic girls write that their parents are begging them to gain weight, and helpful people post replies like, "Sew rocks in your clothes before they weigh you and they'll never catch on!"

So, thanks, Thrillist. We get the message. Guys have money, girls have vaginas, and capitalism ensues. Everything between them -- all the way from playing Yahtzee to toe-sucking -- is bought and paid for. You've filled in that gap between incipient geekdom and Elliott Spitzer.

I'm sure SexyKitty et al. will claim this new venture is empowering, blah blah blah. Women are taking their futures into their own hands! Sure they are. Now c'mon, baby: back to Ms. Pacman. Your pouty little mouth needs to keep swallowing those creamy white dots until Daddy tells you to stop.

Well, thank God all of the world's problems have been solved and now smart people have time to spend inventing fabulous luxuries. Austrian inventors Muto Christian Steyrl decided to fill one of mankind's most important needs: How to get fucked when you're alone and the batteries have run down on your vibrator.

Featuring a built-in solar panel, transformer and voltmeter, "Fucking With the Sun" utilizes the sun's energy to power a cable-connected vibrator. Also included in the kit is a tripod which can be used to prop up the machine at an optimal angle. The designer states that all components "fit neatly into a suitcase, making the tool easily portable."

Still, you can count me out. Though it's smart, dependable, and fun to travel with, it reminds me of my boyfriend Raoul. A lot of fun in daylight, but shuts down dead when the lights go out.

Dear Paper Towels:

I sincerely appreciate your efforts to bend to my every whim. I really appreciate that attitude. In reality, though, I find your lack of decision-making irritating. I am a busy man, and my brain is already overloaded with thoughts. Plus, in this case the decision involved has very little impact. If I pull an entire paper towel off the roll when I only need half, no kittens will be killed, no buses will crash, no tsunami will be unleashed.

In the future, then, please Select A Size your goddamn self.

Thanks much,
RomanHans

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere mallards quack;
But there is no joy in Gayville — Cathy's uttered her last "Ack!"

A 17-year-old Michigan girl began her big game hunting career with a bang — or rather a whoosh — by killing a 448-pound black bear with a bow and arrow from 16 yards away.

High school senior Jessica Olmstead of Battle Creek shot the bear during a hunting trip last month in Oba, Ontario.


The 17-year-old credits her father Tim with teaching her how to track, how to hunt, and how to stuff a rock in the dead bear's mouth to make it look like it's smiling.

British scientists have discovered one reason why sex makes people happy.

According to studies, semen contains mood-enhancing chemicals like cortisol (known to increase affection), estrone (which elevates mood), prolactin (a natural antidepressant), oxytocin (also elevates mood), thyrotropin-releasing hormone (another antidepressant), melatonin (a sleep-inducing agent) and even serotonin (perhaps the most well-known antidepressant neurotransmitter).

Ingestion of semen through any form of intercourse, then, could make your day noticeably brighter.

That's good to know. Next time some guy tells me to smile, I'm going to say "Make me."

When the Wildlife Conservation Society recently discovered a beaver living in the Bronx River, it did the neighborly thing and asked local residents to help name the little critter. And when the Bronx Zoo opened up the competition to online voting, it all but guaranteed the end result: ladies and gentlemen, say hello to Justin Beaver.

Sigh. Aside from being nonsensical, it's insulting. I mean, one's a floppy-haired rodent who can chew a branch into sawdust with his powerful front teeth and lives in a log home by the river.

And the other sang Baby Baby Baby Oh.