BDA orders two-week closure for food outlet in Parkcity for dirty premises
BINTULU (June 6): A food premises in the Parkcity area has been ordered to close effective May 30 for a period of 14 days for violating Section 23(1) of the Public Health Protection Ordinance 1999.
Bintulu Development Authority (BDA) in a statement said the temporary closure was to facilitate comprehensive cleaning of the premises.
'BDA will not tolerate any non-compliance by premises owners or food handlers with the established health regulations,' it said.
The order was issued following an inspection by its Food Safety and Hygiene Control Unit.
BDA stressed that food handlers must maintain strict cleanliness standards and ensure all food served is hygienic, safe, and poses no risk to public health.
'Public health and safety remain our utmost priority. BDA will continue to carry out regular monitoring and enforcement to safeguard the well-being of the Bintulu community,' it added.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Yahoo
17 minutes ago
- Yahoo
WNBA-leading Lynx acquire DiJonai Carrington from Wings for 2 players and a draft pick
WNBA-leading Minnesota acquired DiJonai Carrington in a trade Sunday from the Dallas Wings for Diamond Miller, Karlie Samuelson and the Lynx's second-round pick in 2027. Carrington averaged 10.4 points, 5.1 rebounds and 1.8 assists in 20 games for the Wings, who acquired her from Connecticut in February as part of a four-team trade. This is the fifth WNBA season for the 5-foot-11 guard/forward. Miller, the No. 2 overall pick by the Lynx in the draft two years ago, is averaging 4.1 points a game this season. Since scoring 12.1 points a game as a rookie in 2023, the 6-3 forward from Maryland has averaged only 3.5 points in 47 games the past two seasons. Samuelson hasn't played since June 29 because of surgery on her left foot after playing only 16 games for the Lynx, who got the 6-foot guard from Washington in April. She played four games for Dallas in 2019. The Wings waived 6-7 center Teaira McCowan, a seven-year WNBA veteran, to make room on the roster for the additions. McCowan averaged 5.6 points and 4.6 rebounds in 17 games this season. Minnesota is 24-5 this season. The Wings, with No. 1 overall draft pick Paige Bueckers, have lost eight of their last 10 games and are 8-21. ___ AP WNBA: The Associated Press
Yahoo
17 minutes ago
- Yahoo
One is straight. The other is gay. Together, these best friends are reimagining masculinity
They met in a Brooklyn theater nearly two decades ago — an audition, a role, a spark of camaraderie. Jonathan Gregg was a fresh face in New York City, auditioning for a production of Six Degrees of Separation. Tom Felix was the director. The two hit it off immediately: witty banter, creative chemistry, and, yes, a little bit of undeniable mutual attraction. Keep up with the latest in + news and politics. 'I thought he was super hot and just wanted to keep him around,' Felix, who is gay, admits now, grinning, with Gregg, who is straight, laughing in the Zoom window beside him during their interview with The Advocate. But the friendship that followed, spanning city apartments, career pivots, marriages, late-night texts, vacations, and barbecues, grew into something beyond flirtation or creative synergy. It became family. Sunday, on International Friendship Day, they're not just celebrating a nearly 20-year bond; they're putting it under a mic. Their new podcast, No Homo with Jonathan and Tom, is a weekly riff on life, masculinity, queerness, parenting, politics, and everything in between. 'Two best friends, one straight, one gay,' as they like to say, 'gassing each other up as the world burns.' Behind the riffs and running gags is something quieter and more binding: a friendship that's teaching listeners how expansive masculinity can be. Related: L Word alums Leisha Hailey and Kate Moennig wrote the book on queer Opposites, but alike Gregg, 43, lives in Queens with his wife and two young kids. He now works as director of operations for a spirits portfolio—think bourbon, vodka, rum, ready-to-drinks. He's magnetic, unapologetic, and often the louder of the two. He's also a popular social media influencer: 127,000 followers on TikTok, 140,000 on Instagram, and counting. Gregg grew up in northern Alabama, in what he calls a 'sheltered, conservative' environment shaped by church life and Southern Baptist teachings. At the time, he considered his church progressive. His pastor had once refused to join a denomination-wide boycott of Disney over the company's perceived LGBTQ+ support. 'I thought of my church as a relatively progressive place,' he said, though in hindsight, he recognizes how narrow that bar was. Still, the experience stuck with him. 'Why would you cut out something in your life because they're being kind to a group of people?' he asked. As he left Alabama, first for Nashville and then New York, the distance made clear how insular his upbringing had been and how much space there was to grow. 'Exposure is the antidote to hate and fear,' he said. 'Knowing people, not being scared to know people, that's it.' Felix, 46, is quieter and more careful. A former theater director and television development exec, he now works in corporate communications and lives nearby in Astoria with his fiancé, Naquan, and their kittens, Fish and Chips. He's the one who overthinks. Felix grew up in a working-class Catholic household in central Connecticut, where he says it took time to make peace with being gay. By junior year of high school, he had come out to himself. By senior year, he was quietly living a double life, closeted at school, where he was prom king and class president, but beginning to explore his sexuality through community theater. 'I was ready to be gay,' he said. 'I just wasn't ready to mess with everything else.' He waited until college to come out to others, on his very first night in New York, sitting in a diner with a group of fellow freshmen. When someone asked if he was gay, he set down his grilled cheese and said, for the first time out loud, 'Yes. I'm gay.' Coming out to family and hometown friends took longer. And the bullying he endured as a kid, taunts for doing theater, not playing sports, still lingers in memory. 'It was something I dealt with all through high school,' he said. Both men exude strong 'daddy vibes,' physically muscular, emotionally available, and unmistakably at ease in their own skin. They've shared bedrooms, wedding aisles, and dance floors. And when they hit the right party, Gregg sheds his shirt beside Felix in a sea of sweaty, writhing men. 'He's come with me to a Rekt party or a Honey Dijon party,' Felix says. 'I wouldn't necessarily call them circuit, but definitely like a gay tech house party.' Their rhythms may differ, but the friendship is seamless. Felix officiated at Gregg's wedding. When Felix and Naquan get married next year, Gregg will return the favor. 'We've had some really strange and exciting experiences together,' Felix says. 'And I just think there's such a long history now… I trust him completely.' Asked if the relationship has ever crossed into romantic or sexual territory, both are disarmingly candid. 'Tom has made the most convincing arguments to be with a man I've ever heard,' Gregg jokes. 'But I'm in a committed monogamous marriage. And I'm straight. Tom knows that. And he respects it.' Felix, without missing a beat: 'And I'm still trying.' Paint your nails, punch Nazis Their closeness has shaped Gregg's public persona, too. Through the Trump years, he coined a slogan, 'Paint Your Nails, Punch Nazis,' that went viral and stuck. Now it's on T-shirts, stickers, and plenty of merch. The phrase grew out of lived experience. Bullied as a kid, Gregg bulked up and leaned into hypermasculinity as protection. Later, when his son asked to paint his nails, Gregg painted his too — and kept going. Tom Felix (left) and Jonathan Gregg at a costume Jonathan Gregg & Tom Felix (provided) 'My wife and I always wanted to buck gender norms,' he says. 'When our son was born, we made pink tank tops that said, 'It's a boy' on the front, and 'Gender norms are for the weak' on the back.' It wasn't about rebellion. It was about modeling freedom. 'Even if my son never paints his nails again,' Gregg says, 'he'll remember that a masculine man in his life did. That's powerful.' He and Felix have made that kind of modeling part of the show, silly, serious, or somewhere in between. Building a friendship and a show while reclaiming "no homo" The podcast was years in the making. They'd joked about it forever. But the 2024 election, and the political darkness that followed, finally gave them the push. 'I was just tired of screaming into my phone,' Felix says. 'I wanted to use my voice for something more.' So they hit record. Then they did it again. And again. The format is loose: a weekly check-in, some current events, a few personal revelations, and always—always—a vibe. No Homo launched in late June. New episodes drop every Thursday. As of this week, six have aired, and the show is already finding its footing. Last weekend, Felix was recognized for the first time at The Cock, the legendary gay bar on Manhattan's Lower East Side. 'Are you the guy from the podcast?' a man named Dan from Albuquerque, New Mexico, asked. 'I'll always have The Cock,' Felix joked on the show. Dan also passed on a compliment for Gregg: 'If you flutter your eyelashes fast enough, he thinks you just might float away.' Before they ever pressed record, the name sparked debate. No Homo was originally coined as a reflexive disclaimer, a way for straight men to distance themselves from anything that might be perceived as gay. The phrase exploded in the 1990s and early 2000s hip-hop, where artists used it to assert dominance, affirm heterosexuality, or preempt ridicule after saying anything remotely affectionate. It was defensive, insecure, and often deeply homophobic. Gregg and Felix know all that. And they named their show No Homo anyway. 'We wanted to hold a mirror to the absurdity of it,' Felix says. 'The phrase itself is so rooted in anxiety, about gender, about orientation, about being perceived. And we wanted to flip it.' 'It's the dumbest, most hilarious thing straight men ever came up with,' Gregg adds. 'And now here we are, one straight, one gay, saying, yeah, no homo, and also all the homo. Deal with it.' The title is provocative by design. But it's not empty provocation. It's about subversion, about confronting cultural discomfort with male closeness. By reclaiming the phrase, they're turning its original anxiety on its head, and replacing it with something grounded, funny, and emotionally honest. 'We're in on the joke,' Felix says. 'But we're also dead serious about it.' Jonathan Gregg (left) and Tom Jonathan Gregg & Tom Felix (provided) In the sixth episode, Gregg shared a message from a listener, what he jokingly called a 'no-homer slash bromo,' who'd reached out to a gay friend after hearing their ongoing conversations about friendship and flirtation. The straight man asked: 'Do you find me attractive?' The friend said yes, but explained that because the man was married, he hadn't said anything before. 'It made him feel really good,' Gregg said. 'And frankly, it's kind of always been in the back of my mind — that's the best service we can offer from this podcast.' 'There is a male loneliness epidemic in the country,' he added. 'There's a void of love from men—how they experience it, how they accept it, how they show it. And I'm telling you, there would be less of a loneliness issue if you just make some gay friends and let 'em flirt with you. It's the best you're ever going to feel.' A May 2025 Gallup poll found that 25 percent of American men ages 15 to 34 reported feeling lonely 'a lot' of the previous day, more than young men in 35 other high-income democratic countries. In the U.S., young men are significantly lonelier than both young women and older adults. Experts link the crisis to long-standing cultural norms that discourage boys from expressing vulnerability, often leaving them emotionally isolated. 'There are some ways to feel a little better,' Felix added. Gregg didn't miss a beat: 'If you and your gay friend decide you want to go down that path, that's totally cool too. And if you don't, then take the flirting, take the compliments, take the gas up, and know that they'll probably give you a really good blowjob if you want it.' 'I did try to grab his dick on my 30th birthday,' Felix admitted in his Advocate interview. 'That's true. But I was being a real tease,' Gregg chimed in. 'So even I can forgive that one.' But was it no homo or was it homo? 'Yeah, it was no homo,' Gregg said. 'It might've been after the fact. It might have no homoed after the fact.' Gregg and Felix aren't trying to be icons. They're just trying to be honest. To show what friendship can look like when men stop fearing softness, stop fearing each other. 'If more straight men had gay best friends,' Gregg says, 'the world would be a better place. Period.' He's not wrong. Happy International Friendship Day. Catch below. - YouTube This article originally appeared on Advocate: One is straight. The other is gay. Together, these best friends are reimagining masculinity Solve the daily Crossword
Yahoo
17 minutes ago
- Yahoo
'Good Samaritan' Alerts Authorities After Discovering 50 Lbs. of Suspected Cocaine Floating Off Florida Keys
The Monroe County Sheriff's Office said the apparent drugs were located five miles south of the village of IslamoradaNEED TO KNOW A "good samaritan" has turned in roughly 50 lbs. of "suspected cocaine" in Florida The Monroe County Sheriff's Office announced that the mariner discovered the packages five miles south of Islamorada in the Florida Keys The packages have since been turned over to federal authoritiesA person in Florida stumbled on what authorities believe to be 50 lbs. of cocaine floating off the coast of a local village. On Friday, Aug. 1, the Monroe County Sheriff's Office announced that a "good samaritan," who was identified as a mariner, found the 23 kilograms — or roughly 50 lbs. — of "suspected cocaine" five miles south of Islamorada in the Florida Keys. Both the U.S. Customs Border and Protection and the MCSO then brought the packages ashore before turning them over to federal authorities, according to the MCSO. The MCSO also shared an image to social media of the taped-up packages, which were shaped like bricks, sitting on a dock. There appeared to be roughly 20 packages in total, with certain portions blurred out for the sake of the Facebook post. The identity of the mariner who discovered the suspected cocaine packages has not been released publicly. When reached for comment on Sunday, Aug. 3, the MCSO directed PEOPLE to U.S. Customs Border and Protection. Contacts for the CBP did not immediately respond to a request for further information. According to its website, Islamorada is home to perhaps the "world's highest density of professional offshore and backcountry charter boats" with tournament-grade captains. Both backcountry sport fishing and saltwater fly fishing were pioneered in the village of islands as well, per its site. This is not the first time drugs have been handed in to the MCSO in recent years. In early July, the office shared an image to Facebook of a package containing what it believed to be 1.3 kilograms — or nearly three pounds — of suspected cocaine discovered near Mile Marker 79.5. The package featured an image from the 2000 film Gladiator. Last year, a lobster diver discovered a package of what was believed to be cocaine roughly one mile offshore of the community of Tavernier, per CBS12. A photo shared by the MCSO at the time showed an illustration of a rabbit scull with the word "Bunny" written underneath it, prominently displayed on the packaging. Elsewhere in the state, the Walton County Sheriff's Office announced on X in late June that a beachgoer found nearly $500,000 of cocaine washed up on a local beach. The 25 kilos of drugs were packaged with an image of Yosemite Sam, with authorities encouraging locals to avoid touching any "suspicious packages." Read the original article on People
