Traditionally, the French are meant to turn an unimpressed Gallic nose up at the paltry British sex life. They are the romantically, erotically inclined ones, so it goes, their British cousins fumbling and frigid. How curious, then, to find a new generation of French people looking across the Channel for amorous inspiration.
French teenagers are embracing free love and organising their own large-scale parties at which drink and drugs flow freely, the dancefloor is for kissing, and the garden is an overflow boudoir for when things get extra-steamy.
But here's the strange part: the partygoers aren't just indulging in regular, hormonally-charged hedonism. They're paying homage to a group of fictional British teens.
"Le Skins parties" are organised by French fans of Skins, the Channel 4 series about misbehaving adolescents. First shown in the UK in 2007, its representation of sixth-form students' wild parties quickly became popular across the channel.
Photographer Claudine Doury glimpsed inside a Skins party in a Parisian suburb earlier this year, and these pictures are her record of that night. Entry cost 20 euros, 10 if you brought a bottle, and there were plenty of drugs on the menu, too. But the parties are also scrupulously organised; a security guard is hired to keep an eye on anyone who's overdone it and to keep away undesirables.
"This young guy's parents had gone away, and he invited three or four hundred people on Facebook to a party in his house," says Doury. "They were all between 16 and 18 – the oldest was 20."
Doury describes scenes of sexual abandon. Delighted young men ask a girl if they can kiss her, and she usually says yes. If things progress, they head to the garden, where bodies sprawl across the grass.
But surely drinking, drug-taking and snogging are teenage party staples? So what's unusual about a Skins party? And why do French teens need British TV to show them how to misbehave?
"To be so free is special," insists Doury. "The most incredible thing was people being sexual in front of everybody – you didn't see too much though, because the security guard would ask them to go out into the garden. It's completely free: 'no limits, no limits', they're always saying.
"The freedom is inspired by the TV show. The foreignness of the series is very fashionable and attractive to French teenagers."
The influence of the TV show can also be seen in guests' outfits. Mimicking a scene from the series, dancers don masks, preserving a degree of anonymity that perhaps makes total abandon a little easier.
But while Doury says that most partygoers "like to hide themselves", there's also plenty of flesh on show. Some girls wear just knickers – Doury snapped an appropriately Union Jack-patterned pair – and flimsy dresses are popular. "It was very practical: they know what to wear so they are not completely naked, but so they can touch each other."
While Skins parties have gone official – you can pay to go to them in clubs, or even on a boat on the Seine – the most popular is the old-school house party. "They all prefer parties in a family house, because you can smoke inside and drink underage," says Doury. The homeowners, she says, usually have no idea they've played host, and organisers put up special material on the walls or even repaint them afterwards. Although the aim isn't total destruction of the venue, things often get messy.
Skins parties have occurred in the UK too – one family home reportedly suffered £25,000 of damage after a Skins-themed event. But the trend didn't take off in quite the same way that it has done in France. Maybe British teenagers take a more sceptical view of on-screen antics (Skins is routinely defended with the argument that it's just entertainment, rather than a realistic portrayal of youngsters' lifestyles). Or maybe the tables have turned – and it's now the French taking their sexual cues from the Brits. Well, in the rarefied land of teenagerdom at least.
driver from www.independent.co.uk
When news of the last-minute injunction reached the crowd of protesters outside Arizona's state capitol in Phoenix, Patricia Rosas dropped to her knees next to a makeshift Catholic altar, crossed her heart, and said a quick prayer. Then she stood up, and gleefully announced to the world at large: "Now I can get my family back!"
On 4 July, Patricia had packed her daughter, Talia, son-in-law Raul, and three grandchildren into a battered pick-up truck outside their bungalow on the outskirts of Phoenix. After a tearful and very fond farewell, she waved goodbye as they set off on a seven-hour drive across the desert toward a new home and what they hoped would be a new life in California.
It was the latest chapter in a story which began 12 years ago, when Talia and Raul had slipped over the border into the US from Mexico, and had hit crisis point in April when Arizona's lawmakers passed of Senate Bill 1070, a controversial crackdown on immigration aimed at turfing out the estimated 460,000 foreigners living illegally in the State.
Under the proposed law, which required police officers to check the immigration status of anyone they suspected of being in the US illegally, the couple's daily life in Phoenix would have been overshadowed by the knowledge that their next visit to the supermarket or journey into work might end up with them being stopped, thrown into jail, and deported.
Like thousands of other undocumented workers, Talia and Raul decided to give up on Arizona and bring up their kids in a State where their existence wouldn't be constantly governed by fear. "You cannot live like that," said Patricia. "Talia and Raul have been in America for their entire adult lives. Their children were born here, so are therefore US citizens under the constitution. This is the family's home. They love this country, and are proud of it. Everything they have ever worked for is here. But under 1070, they would have been afraid to so much as drive to the shops or walk down the street."
Then, on Wednesday morning came big news: a local judge had decreed that 1070 would no longer be allowed to come into force when it was supposed to, at midnight that night.
Instead, under a temporary injunction, Judge Susan Bolton declared that opponents who had sued to stop it passing into law were "likely to succeed" with the argument that four elements of the bill represent an illegal infringement of the civil liberties of genuine American citizens, and would interfere with the right of the Federal Government (rather than individual states) to enforce immigration.
Barring a successful appeal, which will in any case is likely to take months to be heard and enforced, the Bill, which was supposed to provide a blueprint from US states seeking to crack down on illegal immigrants, is now dead in the water.
The ruling is a victory for President Barack Obama, who hopes to enact immigration reform later this year, and whose Justice Department was among the plaintiffs in the case. It was also warmly greeted by civil rights campaigners who had complained that some of 1070's draconian measures – including one that required even legal migrants to carry their ID papers with them at all times – would inevitably lead to the police officers racially profiling the Hispanic community.
Patricia, for her part, is looking forward to being reunited with Talia, Raul, and their children, with whom she has only spoken to on the phone during the past month. She says the couple plan to stay in California until the legal battle over 1070 is exhausted. Once that happens, they will return to Phoenix, where they both had manual jobs in the restaurant trade.
"I called Talia and said there's good news: she could come home and we could be together as a family again," says Patricia, whose son, another illegal immigrant, has also now cancelled plans to leave Phoenix. "This ruling has taken away so much fear. It has shown that as a community we can fight back against intolerance and fear, and be strong. Really, I am delighted."
Undocumented workers aren't the only ones who will be returning to Arizona now that 1070 has been thrown into legal limbo. The development will also take the heat out of a consumer boycott which began in April, shortly after the law was passed by the Republican-controlled state legislature.
No one knows exactly how many tourists cancelled planned visits, or simply failed to book holidays there during the controversy, which sparked a national conversation and in left-leaning circles turned Arizona into a pariah state. However the local Hotel and Lodging Association says that it knows of at least 40 business meetings or conferences that were called off, costing its members more than $12m.
"Other costs are harder to quantify, but our members have just had so many calls from people saying, 'We love your hotel and your destination, but the way things are, we just can't run the risk of scheduling an event here, because people might pull out and the press would be terrible,'" said a spokesman. "To give you an idea of the scale, though, the Sheraton in downtown Phoenix says the boycott has cost it $9m alone."
That's a big sum, even for an industry that employs roughly 200,000 people in the state's upscale hotels, golfing resorts and spas. "Our position has always been that a boycott would only hurt the people it was meant to help," added the spokesman.
"When people cancelled trips, it was the cleaners and reception staff, many from the Hispanic community, who stood to lose their jobs or have their shifts cut back."
Major cities such as Los Angeles and San Francisco, which had banned employees from travelling to Arizona and put a freeze on new business dealings with the state, are likely to reconsider their position.
A day of nationwide protest against the Arizona law went ahead as planned yesterday, but Judge Bolton's ruling dissipated much of the anger, particularly in Phoenix, where tens of thousands of demonstrators had been expected and acts of civil disobedience had been planned.
Leading members of Arizona's Latino community meanwhile called for the boycott to be lifted. Raúl Grijalva, a Democratic Senator who was one of the leading voices in favour of the original sanctions, said it was time to reverse the policy.
"After this ruling, everybody has some responsibility to pause – and that includes me," he said.
The name of Patricia's son-in-law has been changed at her request to protect the couple's identity
driver from www.independent.com

KIM JONG IL, the North Korean dictator, is not normally a trendsetter. But in one area he is clearly leading the pack: job-title inflation. Mr Kim has 1,200 official titles, including, roughly translated, guardian deity of the planet, ever-victorious general, lodestar of the 21st century, supreme commander at the forefront of the struggle against imperialism and the United States, eternal bosom of hot love and greatest man who ever lived.
When it comes to job titles, we live in an age of rampant inflation. Everybody you come across seems to be a chief or president of some variety. Title inflation is producing its own vocabulary: “uptitling” and “title-fluffing”. It is also producing technological aids. One website provides a simple formula: just take your job title, mix in a few grand words, such as “global”, “interface” and “customer”, and hey presto.
The rot starts at the top. Not that long ago companies had just two or three “chief” whatnots. Now they have dozens, collectively called the “c-suite”. A few have more than one chief executive officer; CB Richard Ellis, a property-services firm, has four. A growing number have chiefs for almost everything from knowledge to diversity. Southwest Airlines has a chief Twitter officer. Coca-Cola and Marriott have chief blogging officers. Kodak has one of those too, along with a chief listening officer.
Even so, chiefs are relatively rare compared with presidents and their various declensions (vice-, assistant-, etc). Almost everybody in banking from the receptionist upwards is a president of some sort. The number of members of LinkedIn, a professional network, with the title vice-president grew 426% faster than the membership of the site as a whole in 2005-09. The inflation rate for presidents was 312% and for chiefs a mere 275%.
Title-fluffing is as rampant among the indians as among the chiefs. America’s International Association of Administrative Professionals—formerly the National Secretaries Association—reports that it has more than 500 job-titles under its umbrella, ranging from front-office co-ordinator to electronic-document specialist. Paper boys are “media distribution officers”. Binmen are “recycling officers”. Lavatory cleaners are “sanitation consultants”. Sandwich-makers at Subway have the phrase “sandwich artist” emblazoned on their lapels. Even the normally linguistically pure French have got in on the act: cleaning ladies are becoming “techniciennes de surface” (surface technicians).
What is going on here? The most immediate explanation is the economic downturn: bosses are doling out ever fancier titles as a substitute for pay raises and bonuses. But there are also structural reasons for the trend. The most basic is the growing complexity of businesses. Many not only have presidents and vice-presidents for this or that product line, but also presidents and vice-presidents for various regions. Put the two together and you have a recipe for ever-longer business cards: vice-president for photocopiers Asia-Pacific, for example.
The cult of flexibility is also inflationary. The fashion for flattening hierarchies has had the paradoxical effect of multiplying meaningless job titles. Workers crave important-sounding titles to give them the illusion of ascending the ranks. Managers who no longer have anyone to manage are fobbed off with inflated titles, much as superannuated politicians are made Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster or Lord President of the Council. Everybody, from the executive suite downward, wants to fluff up their résumé as a hedge against being sacked.
Firms also use fancy job titles to signal that they are au fait with the latest fashion. The fad for greenery is producing legions of chief sustainability officers and green ambassadors. BP’s travails will undoubtedly have the same effect: we can expect a bull market in chief safety officers and chief apology officers.
The American technology sector has been a champion of title inflation. It has created all sorts of newfangled jobs that have to be given names, and it is also full of linguistically challenged geeks who have a taste for “humorous” titles. Steve Jobs calls himself “chief know it all”. Jerry Yang and David Filo, the founders of Yahoo!, call themselves “chief Yahoos”. Thousands of IT types dub themselves things like (chief) scrum master, guru, evangelist or, a particular favourite at the moment, ninja.
But leadership in title inflation, as in so much else, is passing to the developing world, particularly India and China. Both countries have a longstanding obsession with hierarchy (fancy job titles can be the key to getting a bride as well as the admiration of your friends). They also have tight labour markets. The result is an explosion of titles. Companies have taken to creating baffling jobs such as “outbound specialist”. They have also taken to staging public celebrations of promotions from, say, assistant deputy director to principal assistant deputy director.
Inflated benefits, understated drawbacks
Does any of this matter? Title inflation clearly does violence to the language. But isn’t that par for the course in the corporate world? And isn’t it a small price to pay for corporate harmony? The snag is that the familiar problems of monetary inflation apply to job-title inflation as well. The benefits of giving people a fancy new title are usually short-lived. The harm is long-lasting. People become cynical about their monikers (particularly when they are given in lieu of pay rises). Organisations become more Ruritanian. The job market becomes more opaque. How do you work out the going rate for “vision controller of multiplatform and portfolio” (the BBC)? Or a “manager of futuring and innovation-based strategies” (the American Cancer Society)?
And, far from providing people with more security, fancy titles can often make them more expendable. Companies might hesitate before sacking an IT adviser. But what about a chief scrum master? The essence of inflation, after all, is that it devalues everything that it touches.
driver from www.economist.com
For the last quarter century, the Cleveland Botanical Garden went all out for its biennial Flower Show, the largest outdoor garden show in North America.
With themed gardens harking back to the Roman empire, or an 18th-century English estate, the event would draw 25,000 to 30,000 visitors. But in 2009, the
Flower Show was postponed and then abandoned when the botanical garden could not find sponsors. This year, the garden has different plans. From Sept. 24 to
26, it is inaugurating the “RIPE! Food & Garden Festival,” which celebrates the trend of locally grown food — and is supported in part by the Cleveland
Clinic and Heinen’s, a supermarket chain.
“The Flower Show may come back someday, but it’s not where people are these days,” says Natalie Ronayne, the garden’s executive director. “Food is an
easier sell.”

So it is across the country. Botanical gardens are experiencing an identity crisis, with chrysanthemum contests, horticultural lectures and garden-club
ladies, once their main constituency, going the way of manual lawn mowers. Among the long-term factors diminishing their traditional appeal are fewer women
at home and less interest in flower-gardening among younger fickle, multitasking generations.
Forced to rethink and rebrand, gardens are appealing to visitors’ interests in nature, sustainability, cooking, health, family and the arts. Some are
emphasizing their social role, erecting model green buildings, promoting wellness and staying open at night so people can mingle over cocktails like the
Pollinator (green tea liqueur, soda water and Sprite). A few are even inviting in dogs (and their walkers) free or, as in Cleveland, with a canine admission
charge ($2).
“We’re not just looking for gardeners anymore,” says Mary Pat Matheson, the executive director of the Atlanta Botanical Garden. “We’re looking for
people who go to art museums and zoos.”
In May, the Atlanta garden opened an attraction that would fit right in at a jungle park: a “canopy walk” that twists and turns for 600 feet at a height of
up to 45 feet, allowing visitors to trek through the treetops. Not far away, food enthusiasts can stop in at a new edible garden, with an outdoor kitchen
frequently staffed by guest chefs creating dishes with fresh, healthy ingredients. Edible gardens are the fastest-growing trend at botanical gardens,
consistently increasing attendance, experts say, along with cooking classes.
Attendance in Atlanta since May is double what it was for the same period last year.
Public gardens across the country receive about 70 million visits a year, according to the American Public Gardens Association. But experts say that because
of social trends and changing demographics, attendance is at risk if gardens do not change.
They can, however, take advantage of several trends that could increase garden attendance, including concern for the environment, interest in locally grown
food, efforts to reduce childhood obesity, demand for family activities and mania for interactive entertainment. Even economic pressures could help botanical
gardens, as more people try to grow their own food. In 2009, 35 percent of American households had some kind of food garden, up from 31 percent in 2008, says
Bruce Butterfield, research director of the National Gardening Association. Only 31 percent participated in flower gardening in 2009, about the same
proportion as in the last few years.
“There’s a generation that will be less interested in gardens,” says Daniel J. Stark, executive director of the public gardens association, “but that
generation is incredibly interested in what’s happening with the planet. Recently, my own two daughters, and a friend, were reading me the riot act about
cutting down some trees.”
Mr. Stark’s daughters are 4 and 8.
Some tactics designed to entice nongardening Americans are not new, of course — sculpture and concerts have been around for years — but their popularity is
growing. The New York Botanical Garden, for example, is drawing big crowds with its current tribute to the poet Emily Dickinson, who was also a gardener.
The new exhibition at the United States Botanic Garden in Washington features “the spectacular spud family,” with potato-related artifacts, music and bits
of pop culture, especially the endurance of Mr. Potato Head.
And children’s gardens are growing more whimsical and interactive, says Sharilyn Ingram, a former president of the Royal Botanical Gardens in Canada who is
now a culture professor at Brock University in Ontario. “You get to have a little more fun now,” she said.
When the Coastal Maine Botanical Garden, in Boothbay, opened its $1.7 million, two-acre children’s garden this month, it came with a chicken coop, where
children can harvest eggs, and a windmill weather station.
In Wyoming, at the Cheyenne Botanic Gardens, the new children’s village has adopted sustainability as its theme. It includes a solar-powered discovery
laboratory where children can make art from reused materials, a feature that helped it win the highest level of Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design
(LEED) certification.
Teenagers in Cleveland are learning how to grown corn and zucchini on urban plots.
Because of environmental concerns, Descanso Gardens, near Los Angeles, is doing the once-unthinkable: it plans to uproot its historic — but nonnative —
collection of camellias, some as tall as 30 feet, which were planted decades ago under the shade of natural woodlands. “It’s a fantasy forest,” says Brian
Sullivan, the director of horticulture and garden operations.
But the fantasy cannot be sustained. Camellias require so much water that it is killing the trees — not to mention being wasteful. Descanso will relocate
the camellias, even though some will be lost, and allow the woodlands to return to their native state. “We expect opposition and kudos both,” Mr. Sullivan
said.
But Descanso still must reach out beyond its aging membership group, he added, so it is remaining open in the evening; offering cocktails (including the
Pollinator) at a new Camellia Lounge; breaking ground on a $2.1 million art gallery whose exterior walls will be hung with vertical plant trays that will
blend into a turf roof; and maintaining an edible garden dense with fruits, vegetables and herbs that are donated to a local food bank.
Food festivals are becoming a large part of the year-round programming that gardens view as important to winning repeat visitors. In January, the Fairchild
Tropical Botanic Garden in Coral Gables, Fla., drew some 12,000 people to its fourth International Chocolate Festival with Coffee and Tea. It was followed in
April with a local food festival, and this month with a mango festival. In November comes its annual Ramble, a garden party featuring antiques and music.
Yes, Fairchild also has an orchid festival.
But showcasing flowers is clearly shrinking in importance. “Most gardens,” Ms. Ingram, the Canadian professor, said, “would feel that displaying flowers
is necessary, but not sufficient.”
driver from www.nytimes.com

PARIS — When Elisa Cammarota gets home from school, she tosses off her knapsack and reads her newspaper from front to back.
Anthony Azoulay does, too, though he focuses on articles about soccer and large photo spreads.
Both Elisa and Anthony are 10 years old and entering the fifth grade in the fall. And both are regular subscribers to one of the most popular daily newspapers in France.
On a recent morning, the two children sat at a large rectangular table with several of the newspaper’s editors. The paper, Mon Quotidien, or My Daily, invites several of its readers twice weekly to help edit the paper, except for the front page, choosing stories that will be featured in its seven other pages.
The national editor, Caroline Hallé, was proposing an article about a school in Britain that had bought hawks and falcons to drive off a plague of seagulls that were dirtying the premises.
Alternatively, she proposed news of how divers had recently found bottles of French Champagne that King Louis XVI had sent to the czar of Russia, but had gone down when the ship transporting them sank in the Baltic Sea.
“How did Louis XVI end?” asked Olivier Gasselin, 40, the paper’s deputy editor.
“Guillotine,” Elisa shot back, without raising her eyes from the notes she was making.
François Dufour, 49, the paper’s editor and founder, proposed an article that he thought would elicit a chuckle and the children’s approval: British newspapers were reporting that scientists had discovered which came first, the chicken or the egg. He was greeted by stony faces. The chicken, he said, hoping to stir some reaction from the children. The youngsters scribbled some notes, and the group went on to other business.
“We propose, they choose,” said Ms. Hallé, 34, who joined the paper nine years ago after working at an Internet news site.
In an age when many children are addicted to computers, iPods and iPads — and when newspapers are feeling the pressure — Mon Quotidien appears to be an anomaly, all the more so in the journalistic climate of France.
Despite great journalistic names like Le Monde and Le Figaro, the French read ever fewer newspapers. On a per capita basis, only about half as many papers are sold here as in Germany or Britain, and readership is especially low among the young. Only 10 percent of 15- to 24-year-olds read a paid-for newspaper in 2007, the last time the government took a survey, down from 20 percent a decade earlier.
In fact, so concerned was the French government with the decline in newspaper readership that it detailed plans last year for a program called Mon Journal Offert, or My Complimentary Paper, to offer 18- to 24-year-olds a free yearlong subscription to a newspaper of their choice. Though the program quickly reached the 200,000-reader limit the government had foreseen, there was little sign that readers continued their subscriptions once they had to pay.
None of this deterred Mr. Dufour. In the early 1990s, he and two partners made a considerable profit from a line of quiz cards, called Les Incollables in France and Brain Quest in the United States. With that money, they decided to start a daily newspaper for 10- to 14-year-olds, and in 1995 Mon Quotidien appeared. Such was its success — by the third year circulation reached 50,000 copies — that they founded two more dailies: Petit Quotidien, or Little Daily, for 7- to 10-year-olds, and L’Actu, or, roughly, The Headlines, for 14- to 17-year-olds.
“What I made in the States I invested in France,” said Mr. Dufour, youthful with a shock of blond hair and a passion for golf.
He added: “We’re like a local newspaper, with three regions. They’re completely different in what you read.”
The papers, which appear every day but Sunday, are lively and colorful mixes of news, photos, cartoons and quizzes. A recent issue of Mon Quotidien featured a front-page photo of Paul the Octopus, which successfully picked the winners of 2010 World Cup soccer games. Another featured a tiny new car at the Berlin auto show that folds up for easy storage in tight spaces.
Particularly popular are the cartoons by Berth, who lives in Besançon, near the Swiss border, and communicates with the editors through Skype. A drawing of his accompanying the folding-car article depicted the vehicle emitting strange noises when folded. A bystander remarks, “Not only does it fold, it talks, too!” To which another replies: “Nonsense! That’s the driver stuck inside.”
The combination of content and deft marketing has driven circulation of the three papers up to 165,000. “It’s rather well done,” said Françoise Dargent, a literary critic at Le Figaro whose two older daughters, 11 and 13, are avid readers. “It’s a way for kids to stay informed, and forms a good attitude toward reading.”
Still, there is no sign that Mon Quotidien and its sister papers breed long-term newspaper readers. With each successive age group, the number of subscribers diminishes. Petit Quotidien has 75,000; Mon Quotidien, 60,000; and L’Actu, the paper for 14- to 17-year olds, only 30,000.
While Elisa devours her Mon Quotidien every day, her mother, Carine Abes, 46, who works in social services, said she did not subscribe to a newspaper. “I listen to the radio, I read books,” Ms. Abes said.
In fact, Mr. Dufour concedes that he “buys” most of his circulation.
“Every September,” he said, “we ship 15 million free copies to every teacher in France, 30 copies each. That’s 90 percent of the 5 million euros” — or $6.5 million — “that we spend for direct marketing.” Youngsters get to know the papers in school, then pressure their parents for a subscription.
At that level, the papers remain profitable, but driving circulation up further would produce a loss, he said. The papers are sold by subscription only, not at kiosks, because that would raise distribution costs, Mr. Dufour said.
Moreover, he is sticking with the newspaper format, resisting the tug of the Web. “We do nothing on the Internet,” he said, though Mon Quotidien does have a free five-minute news show online. “The parents wouldn’t pay for it.”
Mr. Dufour says he cannot predict Mon Quotiden’s future. “That may change with the iPad,” he said. “Parents never pay for more time on the Internet; the question is, will parents think the iPad another nonpaper paper, or another Internet driver?”
driver from www.nytimes.com
BEIJING — The first details emerged Friday on the cause of China's largest reported oil spill, while environmentalists urged the government to do more to warn local residents of potential danger, saying children are playing still off nearby beaches.
Chinese authorities gave no update Friday on the size of the oil spill, which had spread over at least 165 square miles (430 square kilometers) of water after a pipeline at the busy northeastern port of Dalian exploded a week ago.
The disaster has caused China to take a hard look at its ports, some of the busiest in the world.
The explosion was caused when workers continued to inject desulfurizer into the pipeline after a tanker had finished unloading oil, according to a statement posted Friday on the website of the State Administration of Work Safety. A desulfurizer is a chemical substance used to remove high sulfur content from crude oil.
The statement said the explosion remains under investigation. The pipeline is owned by China National Petroleum Corp., Asia's biggest oil and gas producer by volume. State media have said oil operations at the Xingang port have resumed.
China's transport ministry ordered ports across the country to have emergency response plans and hold regular safety drills, the state-run Xinhua News Agency reported Friday.
The ministry will also establish a database of all ports that handle dangerous goods, the People's Daily newspaper reported.
Officials have warned of a "severe threat" to sea life and water quality as China's latest environmental crisis spread off the shores of Dalian, once named China's most livable city. One cleanup worker drowned this week, his body coated in crude.
Cleanup workers have reported using chopsticks and their bare hands to remove the gooey oil from the sea, while state media said 2,000 soldiers, 40 oil-skimming boats and hundreds of fishing boats were helping with the cleanup.
Environmental group Greenpeace, which has a team at the scene, urged the government to warn residents on nearby coastlines of the dangers.
"Greenpeace was ... surprised to see that the beaches have not been closed to visitors and lack any warning signs," Greenpeace China said in a statement Friday evening. "As a result, locals and visitors unaware of the extent of the oil spill were playing in the water with their kids, risking exposure to petroleum."
It said fishermen without equipment were doing most of the cleanup work at one of Dalian's most popular beaches, Jinshitan.
"They don't even have face masks, the most basic and necessary of precautions. They don't even know that they need to protect their skin from crude oil," said Zhong Yu, one of the Greenpeace workers.
"We strongly urge the government to send professional staff and safety equipment to work on the cleanup process," Zhong said in the group's statement.
The foreign affairs office for the city of Dalian did not immediately respond to questions Friday about the cleanup or warning signs on beaches.
State media has said no more oil is leaking into the sea, but the total amount of oil spilled is not yet clear.
China Central Television earlier reported an estimate of 1,500 tons of oil has spilled. That would amount roughly to 400,000 gallons (1,500,000 liters) – as compared with 94 million to 184 million gallons in the BP oil spill off the U.S. coast.
Just how much is a Sarah Palin endorsement worth in Alaska?
At least as far as the state's U.S. Senate GOP primary is concerned, not very much it seems.
Incumbent Sen. Lisa Murkowki is leading challenger Joe Miller 62 percent to 30 percent, according to a Ivan Moore Research poll. (More than half of the Alaskans polled said that they had no impression of Miller.)
Miller not only has Palin's backing but also the support of the Tea Party Express heading into the Aug. 28 primary.
The National Journal reports that "Palin initially said she would back Murkowski and cut the senator's campaign a check. But this spring, Palin decided to back Miller after her husband, Todd Palin, hosted a Miller fundraiser in Wasilla."
Another recent survey points out Palin's dwindling popularity in her home state.
Palin, who was once extremely popular as governor, is now viewed unfavorable by 47 percent of Alaskans compared to 41 percent who view her favorably.
The Ivan Moore Research survey was conducted July 7-11 and polled 647 registered voters, including 303 Republican voters in Alaska.
House Minority Leader John Boehner is denying a report that he warned GOP congressmen to steer clear of female lobbyists on Capitol Hill. The NY Post's Page Six reported on Wednesday morning that Boehner told Congressmen who partied with lobbyists "to knock it off."
"I don't think I have [said that]," Boehner told reporters at a media breakfast hosted by the Christian Science Monitor on Wednesday. "They're commenting on rumor and speculation."
Boehner derided the reporter who asked the question, telling him he prefers to keep private comments private. "It sounds like a rumor to me," Boehner added.
The kerfuffle started when GOP Rep. Lee Terry of Nebraska, who's locked in a tight race with Democrat Tom White, was reportedly seen having questionable exchanges with a lobbyist at Capitol Hill Club in DC.
The labor community is going to lend its considerable political clout to the effort to get Elizabeth Warren confirmed as the first head of the newly-created Consumer Protection Agency, going directly to the White House official who may stand in her way.
On Tuesday, SEIU President Mary Kay Henry will "raise the point that Elizabeth Warren would be an excellent head of the newly created Consumer Protection Agency" in private talks with Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner, according to a senior source with the union. The tete-a-tete adds an element of intrigue into the debate over who should head the new but important agency and could set up a now-familiar scenario in which the labor community finds itself butting heads with the White House's economic team.
Geithner has privately expressed skepticism with Warren's candidacy for the post -- despite the fact that she is considered the godmother of the very idea that consumers need a watchdog agency on their behalf. The Treasury Secretary is wary about the message that Warren's appointment would send to the financial community and would prefer to appoint Michael Barr, a senior Treasury Department official who was instrumental in crafting financial regulatory reform.
In public, the White House has insisted that it is open up to all candidacies, including Warren's. But Geithner's private musings have spurred an intense pushback.
In addition to Kay Henry's visit to Treasury, another major union, the AFL-CIO, has directly lobbied the White House on Warren's behalf, according to a source with the union federation. Meanwhile, the Progressive Change Campaign Committee, a liberal activist group, has colleted roughly 140,000 signatures in a petition drive urging the White House to nominate Warren for the new post.
Warren, it should be noted, could assume the post by executive appointment under the newly passed regulatory reform law. This would allow her to avoid a bitter confirmation fight in which she would need the support of 60 Senators in order to make it through the Senate.
Late last week, the Wall Street Journal reported on how New Yorkers' sustained obsession with cupcakes might account for a legitimate part of the city's economy. According to the paper:
The latest unemployment numbers for New York City show that, while the labor market shrunk in June, the overall unemployment rate improved, partially fueled by growth in the restaurant and bar industry.
They've singled out cupcakes as a key driver of the sector's growth. Ever since Carrie and Miranda sat outside Greenwich Village's Magnolia Bakery in an episode of Sex and the City (and yes, the Journal did ackowledge that was a long time ago) cupcake places have been sprouting up all over New York. From CRUMBS to the first NYC branch of LA's beloved Sprinkles opening this year, New Yorkers (read, tourists) just can't seem to get enough, making the cupcake industry "recession proof."
But Jacob Goldstein at NPR read the story and took to the financial blog Planet Money, questioning if New York is indeed experiencing a "cupcake bubble", joking:
"Did they really think cupcakes were different than cake?" the world will ask after the cupcake market implodes. "Why did they wait in those ridiculous lines just to buy cake?"
And noted:
[B]ubbles are notoriously difficult to spot -- just ask Alan Greenspan. And pessimists like me, forever arguing that the bubble is about to pop, are as likely to be wrong as the optimists arguing that we're on the cusp of a New Cupcake Era, headed for Dow Cupcake 36,000.