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PLAYBOY

COLLECTOR’S EDITION JANUARY 2004 ® www.playboy.com

FIVE DECADES OF THE GOOD LIFE
JACK NICHOLSON IN HIS GREATEST
ROLE: HIMSELF * FAMED ARCHITECT
FRANK GEHRY DESIGNS THE BACHELOR
PAD OF THE FUTURE * TOP HOLLYWOOD
DIRECTORS SHOOT THEIR WILDEST
FANTASIES • NORMAN MAILER SAVES
AMERICA + HUNTER S. THOMPSON
TEARS IT APART + 50 PRODUCTS THAT
CHANGED THE WORLD + T.C. BOYLE
ON DR. SEX е CHUCK PALAHNIUK ON THE
ULTIMATE DEMOLITION DERBY * GEORGE
PLIMPTON RUNS AMOK IN THE MANSION
* LAUREN WEISBERGER COMES UNBUT-
TONED AT THE OFFICE * JONATHAN
SAFRAN FOER’S PAPER CHASE * DAVID
MAMET’S GUIDE TO LIFE * AL FRANKEN
ON WHAT’S WRONG WITH THE RIGHT
• POWERFUL NEW FICTION BY SCOTT
TUROW AND THOM JONES * BILLY
BOB THORNTON AND JERRY BRUCK-
HEIMER GET DRESSED * 639 PLAYBOY
GIRLS GET NAKED * PLUS: THE ONE AND
ONLY 50TH ANNIVERSARY PLAYMATE

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America's leading literary light, Norman Mailer, weighs in
this month with his prescription for what ails us in immodest
Proposals, a memo to national political bosses. "I think it's im-
portant for the Democrats to recognize that conservatives are
vulnerable," he says. "There's a potential split there. There
are a lot of conservatives who might be ready to vote for the
Democrats as if they were a third party—provided the Demo-
crats can get free of political correctness, which | think is a
poison. At present the strongest single force the Democrats
have is Bush himself. There's that much animosity toward
him. But if Iraq improves and if things look up between Israel
and Palestine—two huge ifs—and certainly if joblessness
decreases, then the Democrats are going to have to show
that they really have more to offer than the Republicans.”

Al Franken, best-selling author
and SNL alum, was sued by Fox
News over his latest book, Lies
and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them.
“After | finished the book," he told
Contributing Editor Warren Kal-
backer, who quizzed him for 20Q,
“| went to Italy for a vacation.
Someone from the house walked
in one morning and said, 'Al, you're
being sued by Fox.’ | just looked
at him and said 'Good' and went
back to sleep. ! just knew that if
they sued us it would be the best
thing that could possibly happen."

Hunter S. Thompson has raised
hackles for decades while pioneer-
ing gonzo journalism in books such
as Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
and The Great Shark Hunt. This
month he tees off on Nixon, the
Harlem Globetrotters and the com-
ing apocalypse in Fear and Jus-
tice in the Kingdom of Sex. "Some
days | feel like going into the tank,
and other days | feel like running
for president,” he says. “That is
dangerous thinking. If politics is
the art of controlling your environ-
ment, itis also the road to hell.”

George Plimpton, a Mansion fa-
vorite and a longtime friend, died
shortly after writing this issue's My
Life With Playboy. He launched nu-
merous literary careers in his pub-
lication The Paris Review, which,
like PLAYBOY, is celebrating its 50th
anniversary. An accomplished wri-
ter, he was a leader in participa-
tory journalism, for which he took
оп such daunting roles as NFL
quarterback and trapeze artist.
Here he recalls a less onerous
stunt: photographing Playmates.

Lauren Weisberger is the author of
the publishing sensation The Devil
Wears Prada, à novel detailing her trial
by fire as an assistant at Vogue. As she
reveals in My Office or Yours?, one
thing she missed during that experi-
ence was good old-fashioned flirting
between colleagues. “If it doesn't
bother her," she says, "and it doesn't
bother him, why not?" Why not indeed.

Jeff Koons, world-renowned concep-
tual artist, contributed the collage for
our fiction feature Loyalty. "It was great
to be invited to create an illustration for
the 50th anniversary issue," he says.
"It's wonderful to be among artists like
Ed Paschke who have created illustra-
tions for PLAvBov. | enjoyed reading
Scott Turow's story and would like to
wish PLAYBOY a happy anniversary."

Jonathan Safran Foer, author of the
acclaimed debut novel Everything Is
Шитіпа!ео, sheds light on his collection
of blank paper—assembled from fa-
mous writers as diverse as Updike and
Freud—in Emptiness. “Not everyone
who sends me paper writes back with
anything," he says. "Sometimes that's
even more satisfying. The assumption
is that the thing speaks for itself."

FREDRIK LJUNGBERG

Calvin Klein
pro stretch

LEARN TO SAY “PLL CALL YOU”
IN A WHOLE BUNCH OF LANGUAGES

In my experience nothing broadens the mind like travel. Especially travel involving lots of
contact with the locals. Describing my 2004 Rockster on first sight, one new foreign friend called
it "Fast, athletic and very good looking." At least | think she was talking about my bike. To learn
more about this incredible machine and how to say other useful phrases such as "Does an
attractive woman like you ride?" and "Were you ever a Playmate?" visit bmwmotorradusa.com

BMW Notorrad
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David Mamet is famed for capturing
the cadences of male speech in works
such as Glengarry Glen Ross, Ameri-
can Buffalo and Wag the Dog. In To My
Son he dissects the aphorisms of man-
hood. “If the advice herein contained
seems wise," he says, "you are proba-
bly and unfortunately too old to have
taken advantage of it."

Thom Jones wrote the story collec-
tions The Pugilist at Rest, Cold Snap
and Sonny Liston Was a Friend of Mine.
All Along the Watchtower, in this issue,
is about a drug-addled drawbridge
tender in Chicago. "You'd think it would
be fun," he says. "But most people
who end up with that job get really
squirrelly—there's so much dead time."

If any man comes even close to Hef in upholding the PLAYBOY
philosophy, it would have to be Jack Nicholson. And this
month he's the subject of the 50th anniversary Playboy Inter-
view. "There are other actors who have been around as long
as he has,” reports Contributing Editor David Sheff, who went
head-to-head with the surprisingly revealing Hollywood icon,
"but | don't know anybody else who has so consistently de-
fined his time. And he is just so unafraid and unapologetic—
and willing and eager to talk about fun stuff, like sex. He has
some wild and interesting things to say about that, and he
even makes jokes about his own reputation in that regard.
The part you don't expect from him is the gentle, thoughtful,
even sweet side. Of course, he'd probably be horrified to
hear a word like sweet used to describe him. But it's true."

Scott Turow, lawyer and writer of such
novels as Presumed Innocent and The.
Burden of Proof, takes a rare foray into
short fiction with this issue's Loyalty.
The genesis of the story: “A friend had
told me a secret about the family of
someone | subsequently met, and |
was impressed by the way it influ-
enced my evolving relationship with
this new acquaintance.”

Greg Gorman is one of the world's
most famous celebrity photographers.
Our fashion feature The A-List spot-
lights his portraits of Hollywood's elite.
“I think that most people you hear
about in the entertainment business
who are difficult people are not neces-
sarily difficult," he reports. "They're
just perfectionists. They haven't got-
ten where they are by being yes-men."

T.C. Boyle returns to our pages with
Dr. Sex, a look at Alfred C. Kinsey,
founder of the eponymous institute in
Bloomington, Indiana. "The house Kin-
sey built on First Street," he says of his
visit there, "sits like an enchanted cot-
tage in а glade of trees. | wanted to go
inside. But | stood on the street and let
my mind do the wandering for me.”

Chuck Palahniuk, the best-selling
author of Fight Club, Choke and
Diary, knows a thing or two about
cacophony. In Demolition he reports
on a 15-year-old combine crash-up
contest in rural Washington state.
*The town needed to raise money
tor its failing rodeo,” he explains.
“The local International Harvester
dealer had a huge number of old,
beat-up trade-in farm combines that
he couldn't do anything with. So he
gave them away to anyone who
would fix them up and decorate
them and drive them in a derby. He
got the whole thing staried.”

Frank Gehry, America's most fa-
mous architect, designed The New
Playboy Bachelor Pad. "There's
more to life than functionality,” he
says. "I think we should try to make
buildings fit into their time and
place. There are technological
changes, stylistic changes and
political changes. Materials evolve,
and building codes are rewritten.
There's aesthetic growth. You have
to keep your eyes open. You have
to do visual research. And then you
hope that if you do it well, it lasts."

Ralph Steadman's iconic artwork has
accompanied some of Hunter S.
Thompson's most famous works,
including Fear and Loathing in Las
Vegas, since 1970. "This project has
taken more time than usual," he says
of his illustrations for Fear and Justice
in the Kingdom of Sex. “1 had this
strange feeling it would offend
Hunter's naturally prudish character."

PLAYBOY, PLAYBOY MANSION AND PLAYMATES are trademarks of Playboy and are used with permission,

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Camel celebrates with Playboy, 50 years of Pinups, Playmates and Pleasures.

Enter to be one of five lucky gem prize winners to the gall Mansion
in Los Angeles in June 2004. Just call | 866 843 0709 to enter the Camel
Sweepstakes for the Playboy 50th Anniversary Club Tour Mansion Party

Plus. join us on the 50-city tour coming to a city near you!

Congratulations on so years of great articles.

Happy Anniversary, Playboy. From your friends at Jack Daniel's.

Please drink responsibly,

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features

138

182

220

IMMODEST PROPOSALS
The nation's smartest—and ballsiest—uriter lays ош a fearless platform for a brave
new world. Ignore it at your own risk. BY NORMAN MAILER

50 YEARS: A PLAYBOY CELEBRATION
т 1953 the first issue of PLAYBOY hit newsstands and, quite simply, changed every-
thing. These 21 pages tell the story of history's best-looking revolution.

TO MY SON
A playwright famous for turning four-letter words into an art form passes down
some tender truths about women, handshakes and necrophilia. BY DAVID MAMET

THE NEW PLAYBOY BACHELOR PAD
View the ultimate party space for the 21st century single man. BY FRANK GEHRY

EMPTINESS

The simple tools of writing can shed more light on the creative process than any
words. That's why this novelist collects blank sheets of paper from such famous
authors as Sigmund Freud and John Updike. BY JONATHAN SAFRAN FOER

FEAR AND JUSTICE IN THE KINGDOM OF SEX
The original gonzo journalist salutes Hef and worries that old communist conspiracy
theories are being repackaged as the War on Terrorism. BY HUNTER S. THOMPSON

YOUR OFFICE OR MINE?
A writer best known for her humorous send-up of office life says we should reevaluate
the role of sexual harassment in the workplace. BY LAUREN WEISBERGER

DEMOLITION
Every year men driving fire-breathing farm equipment pull into a tiny Washington
toum to drink up, fuel up and get smashed up. BY CHUCK PALAHNIUK

DR. SEX
Alfred С. Kinsey pried open the bedroom doors of 18,000 Americans and published the
most intimate details of their sex lives. Here are his sexual peccadillos. BY T.C. BOYLE

50 PRODUCTS THAT CHANGED THE WORLD
How the miniskirt, Big Mac and Jacuzzi helped fast-forward ws into the future.
BY BOB SLOAN AND A.J. BAIME

MY LIFE WITH PLAYBOY

Shortly before his death, Gotham's man of letters immortalized his favorite memories
from the Mansions. He bunked with Bunnies, snapped Centerfolds in Hef's
backyard and almost tripped over a napping Warren Beatty. BY GEORGE PLIMPTON

20Q: AL FRANKEN
The SNL alum behind the controversial book Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell
Them comes clean about life as a liberal satirist. Honest. BY WARREN KALBACKER

fiction

LOYALTY
A man discovers the truth behind an unsolved homicide. BY SCOTT TUROW

ALL ALONG THE WATCHTOWER
A manic bridge tender loses his bird's-eye view in a swan dive. BY THOM JONES

interview

JACK NICHOLSON

Forget his 12 Oscar nominations. Jack Nicholson is our anniversary Playboy Inter-
view because he's the exemplary Playboy man. The Hollywood legend addresses his
reputation as a rogue, reveals his definition of a woman's “sweet spot” and says he'll
retire when younger actors can do a better job than he can. BY DAVID SHEFF

cover story

Fifty years ogo we invented a winning formula:
top-notch journalism, hilarious cartoons ond,
of course, nude photos cf beautiful wamen.
This issue shows why we're still on top ot aur
holf-century mark. Ar! Director Tom Staebler
created our celebratory cover. Senior Art
Director Len Willis designed our anniversary
logo. Our Rebbit doesn't look a day older.

Beneath the hood of Mazda RX-8 spins an engine like no other. тега aa лү
No cylinders, no pistons, just the unique power of the RENESIS rotary
engine. Besides its revolutionary motion, its smaller size allows it to sit
further back, giving RX-8 a near perfect 50:50 weight distribution
regardless of passenger load. Mazda RX-8. A true revolution in sports cars.

All-New ©) Rotary-Powered MazDa Ze BEST NEW ENGINE 2003

It hits on all cylinders. Even though it doesn't have any.

vol. 51, по. 1—janvary 2004

PLAYBOY.

en Я contents continued | sc nued
pictorials
96 LIGHTS, CAMERA, 57 MANTRACK
FANTASY! E PLAYBOY ADVI
Michael Bay, Spike Lee and six et ІН тво, SOR
other top Hollywood directors will 180 PARTY JOKES
get rave reviews for their visions of 290 WHERE AND HOW TO BUY
beauty. Definitely not rated PG. CB Эван
168 PLAYBOY'S 50TH
ANNIVERSARY PLAYMATE: 216 POTPOURRI
COLLEEN SHANNON
This Alaska native embodies our А
hopes for the future. - fashion
200 GOLDEN MEMORIES 188 THE A-LIST
It took half a century to put together Billy Bob Thornton, Jerry Bruck-
this scrapbook. In it are the heimer, Greg Kinnear and other
Playmates and celebrities who members of the Hollywood elite
define American beauty. revel in their personal style.
233 PLAYMATE REVIEW Bel
Soft money is not an issue in this 196 THE GOLD STANDARD
election. Cast your ballot for your These precious-metal accessories
favorite 2003 Playmate. offer the appropriate shine for our
golden-anniversar) party.
notes and news
25 PLAYBOY MANSION DENIS WE
FROLICS 45 MOVIES
Eminem, Guyneth Paltrow, Salma The Retum of the King caps off
Hayek and George Clooney help us the Lord of the Rings saga.
celebrate 50 years.
48 DVDS
65 THE PLAYBOY FORUM Pirates of the Caribbean is ship-
From abortion to sodomy, the | shape; Liv Tyler's nude scenes hoist
battles we helped win; Hef writes АЙ
the Playboy Philosophy.
50 MUSIC
309 PLAYMATE NEWS Blink-182 leaves our eyes wide
Celebrities who've posed for PLAYBOY open; the Beatles tear down a wall
will compete in the Lingerie Bowl fed.
during Super Bowl halftime; Colin
Farrell's favorite Playmate. 52 GAMES
Max Payne finds love and new
firepower; a chat with Mya about
b departments BOITE:
3 ЕДІН. E^ ED 425 Odd Th
ап Koontz's homas is
29 DEAR PLAYBOY strange in the best way. Plus: fun
33 AFTER HOURS with serial killers!
Атана

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HUGH M. HEFNER
editor-in-chief

JAMES KAMINSKY editorial director
STEVEN RUSSELL deputy editor
TOM STAEBLER art director
GARY COLE photography director
LISA CINDOLO GRACE managing editor
ROBERT LOVE editor at large
JOHN REZEK associate managing editor
STEPHEN RANDALL executive editor
LEOPOLD FROEHLICH assistant managing editor

EDITORIAL
FEATURES: CHRISTOPHER NAPOLITANO edilor; A.J. BAIME articles editor; FORUM: CHIP ROWE
senior associate editor; PATTY LAMBERTI assistant edilor; MODERN LIVING: DAVID STEVENS editor;
JASON BUHRMESTER associate editor; DAN HENLEY administrative assistant; STAFF: ALISON PRATO
associate editor; ROBERT B. DESALVO, TIM MOHR assistant editors; HEATHER HAEBE,

CAROL KUBALEK. EMILY LITTLE, KENNY LULL editorial assistants; CARTOONS: MICHELLE URRY editor;
JENNIFER THIELE assistant; COPY: WINIFRED ORMOND copy chief;

TEVE GORDON associate сору chic)

CAMILLE CAUTI senior Сору editor; PETER BORTEN copy editor; RESEARCH: DAVID COHEN research
director; BRENDAN BARR senior researcher; LUCAS ZALESKI associate senior researcher; MATT ELZWEIG

DANIEL FISHER, RON MOTTA, DARON MURPHY, DAVID PFISTER Tesearchers; MARK DURAN research librarian;

BRADLEY LINCOLN assistant; EDITORIAL PRODUCTION: BONNIE SHELDEN manager; VALERY
SOROKIN associate; READER SERVICE: MIKE OSTROWSKI correspondent; CONTRIBUTING
EDITORS: KEVIN BUCKLEY, JOSEPH DE ACETIS (FASHION), GRETCHEN EDGREN, LAWRENCE GROBEL, KEN
GROSS, WARREN KALBACKER, ARTHUR KRETCHMER, JOE MORGENSTERN, JAMES К. PETERSEN, DAVID RENSIN.
DAVID SHEFF, JOHN D. THONAS

HEIDI PARKER west coast editor

ART
SCOTT ANDERSON, BRUCE HANSEN, CHET SUSKI, LEN WILLIS, ROB WILSON Senior art directors;
PAUL CHAN Senior art assistant; JOANNA METZGER art assistant; CORTEZ WELLSart services coordinator;
MALINALEE senior art administrator

PHOTOGRAPHY
MARILYN GRABOWSKI west coast editor; JIM LARSON managing editor; KEVIN KUSTER, STEPHANIE MORRIS
senior editors; PATTY BEAUDET-FRANCES associate editor; RENAY LARSON assistant editor; ARNY FREYTAG
STEPHEN WAYDA senior contributing photographers; GEORGE GEORGIOU staff photographer;
RICHARD IZUI, MIZUNO, BYRON NEWMAN, GEN NISHINO, POMPEO POSAR, DAVID RAMS contributing
photographers; ua. wurre studio manager—los angele ETH GEORGIOU manager,
photo library; Kevin CRAIG manager, photo lab; MELISSA ELIAS photo researcher;
PENNY EKKERT production coordinator

ELIZA

DIANE SILBERSTEIN publisher

ADVERTISING
Jerr Kine eastern advertising director; NEW YORK: HELEN BIANCULLI direct response advertising
director; sus JAFFE beauty manager; RON STERN liquor manager; TATIANA VERENICIN fashion manager; JOHN
LUMPKIN senior account execulive; MICHAEL BELLINGHAM account executive; MARIE FIRNENO advertising
operations director; KARA SARISKY advertising coordinator; CHICAGO: JOE HOFFER midwest sales manager;
WADE BAXTER senior account executive; LOS ANGELES: DENISE SCHIPPER West coast manager; COREY
SPIEGEL senior account executive; SAN FRANCISCO: JENNIFER SAND account executive

MARKETING
LISA NATALE associate publisher/marketing; SUE (СОЕ event marketing director;
CARRIE GROSS promolions manager; JULIA LIGHT marketing services director;
DONNA TAVOSO creative services director

PRODUCTION
MARIA MANDIS director; JODY JURGETO production manager; CINDY PONTARELLI, DEBBIE TILLOU
associate managers; JOE CANE, CHAR KROWCZYK assislant managers;
BILL BENWAY, SIMMIE WILLIAMS prepress

CIRCULATION
LARRY A. рјеве newsstand sales director; PHYLLIS ROTUNNO Subscription circulation director

ADMINISTRATIVE
MARCIA TERRONES rights & permissions director

PLAYBOY ENTERPRISES INTERNATIONAL, INC.
CHRISTIE HEFNER chairman, chief executive officer
JAMES P RADTRE Senior vice president and general manager

3 AETN. Photo: Photonico.

Host Hugh Hefner

with special guests
Jenny McCarthy
and Drew Carey

cordially invite you
to the party that

bares all.

PLAYBOY'S 50th ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION
Watch it unfold Sunday, Dec. 7
8pm/7c, only on A&E

The legacy, The impact.
The ultimate anniversary party.

The art of Entertainment.

Come party with Pamela Anderson, Anna Nicole Smith, Paris and Nicky Hilton, Sharon and Kelly

Osbourne, Roseanne Barr, Tony Curtis, David Hasselhoff, Alyssa Milano, Matthew Perry, Stephen
Dorff, Jimmy Kimmel, Kelsey Grammer, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Lance Bass, Joey Fatone, JC Chasez,

Justin Guarini, Bettie Page, Barbi Benton, and more Playmates than the grotto can handle.

т ^ ENS P$ УЛ А
This Holiday, It Will Cost
E T rn al Ті

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ALL THREE FEATURE-LENGTH FILMS
PLUS OVER 3 HOURS OF BONUS MATERIALS
A DOCUMENTARY ON THE MAKING OF THE FILMS » ADDITIONAL
SCENES = FILMING LOCATIONS FEATURETTE + STORYBOARDS |
CINEMATOGRAPHY OF THE GODFATHER * THE MUSIC OF THE
GODFATHER * THE CORLEONE FAMILY TREE + THE GODFATHER
HISTORICAL TIME LINE * CHARACTER AND CAST BIOGRAPHIES
AND MUCH MORE!

www poremount.com /homeettertainment
rays ange wit me, THE SODA
TR SE Capp ©2003 by Pe

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A Pete A Hgts served.

Celebrities and Centerfolds make the Playboy
Mansion the ultimate hangout as we celebrate ©
the magazine's 50th Anniversary. (1) Hef and
his girlfriends taping a music video with Nelly
and Justin Timberlake in the Great Hall. (2)
Kevin Spacey and you know who. (3) Christine
Taylor and Ben Stiller. (4) Drew Carey and the
guest of honor at Hef’s Friars Club roast. (5)
Eminem kissing up to Playmate Stacy Fuson.
(6) Fred Durst with Colin Farrell and Colin's
sister Claudine. (7) Leonardo DiCaprio and
Seth Green. (8) Gwyneth Paltrow and Red Hot
Chili Pepper Anthony Kiedis. (9) Tara Reid
and Mr. Playboy. (10) Dennis Rodman and
Howard Stern at a Mansion taping of the
shock jock’s radio show. (11) Matthew Perry
with Hef and his girlfriends, (12) Jim Carrey
and Jon Lovitz. (13) George Clooney with
Mulholland Drive's Laura Harring and Center-
fold Deanna Brooks. (14) Salma Hayek,
Edward Norton and Mark Wahlberg. (15) Brit-
ney Spears. (16) Jason Biggs with Genevieve
Gowman and Lisa Arturo on Halloween. (17)
Shannen Doherty and the host.

SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Smoking
By Pregnant Women May Result in Fetal
Injury, Premature Birth, And Low Birth Weight.

POT BUST GONE BAD
I couldn't stop crying after reading
Siege at Rainbow Farm (October). Tom
Crosslin and Rollie Rohm died de-
fending their family, property and
right to freedom. Because of the mis-
guided war on drugs, a campground
of love and peace was turned into a

bloody battleground.
Sandy Cote
‘Toledo, Ohio

Because the media paid so much atten-

tion to 9/11, a story bigger than Ruby
Ridge just got swept under the rug

Katherine Marzolo

Los Angeles, California

"Those of us who knew Tom and Rollie
still have many unanswered questions
about what really happened. Did Tom
and Rollic point their guns at the po-
lice? The people who murdered them
say yes, but it is their word against the
dead. They were the two kindest souls
Thave ever met.
B.J. Mallen
Colon, Michigan

THE O.J. SIMPSON INTERVIEW
David Sheff does a great job keeping
O.]. опа tight leash (Playboy Interview,
October). I was a very dose friend of

Guilty in the court af public oj

Nicole Brown's. 1 spent nearly nine
months sitting in that courtroom,
watching the wheels of justice come
undone. O.J. usually answers a ques-
tion with a question or with some
made-up jargon that is meant to dis-
tract and confuse. That is his only tal-
ent. I can't believe that O.J. says we

(Nicole's closest friends) somehow
know who the real killer is. Then
again, I guess he's right. We know that
it's O.J. Does he really believe that if 1
knew somebody else killed Nicole and
Ron I would waste my time on his sor-
ry ass? Thanks for your efforts to get to
the bottom of this shallow man.
Ron Hardy
San Diego, California

O.J. is an idiot and so is PLAYBOY for
giving him a forum.

John Rozsa

Sacramento, California

1f O.]. really is innocent of his crimes,
why did he feel the need to have
his attorney with him during the
interview?

Randal Jackson

Rosepine, Louisiana

It’s taboo to tell people that you think
O.J. is innocent. But I do. The Rodney
King trial and riots gave the LAPD a
rather unsightly black eye. What bet-
ter way to reassert control and divert
attention from the bad policing than to
frame a prominent black celebrity with
a hazy past of domestic abuse? O.
you ever find your way to Vegas, a
round of golf is on me.
Chris Greening
Las Vegas, Nevada

ОЈ. says, "И you call anybody an ass-

hole, you've got to be prepared to get

bloody.” I guess we now know the last
thing Nicole said to him.

Tom Malabo

Tucson, Arizona

PURE PLAYMATE
Audra Lynn is gorgeous (Farmer's
Daughter, October). 1 appreciate her
lack of piercings. Like many of your
other models, though, she wears fake
nails. Have the cells stopped repro-
ducing in ladies’ fingernails?
Dave Parker

Lackawanna, New York
Just because Audra's nails are done up та
French manicure doesn’t mean they're not,
like the rest of her, 100 percent natural.

CHECKERED MISTRESS.
Ilaughed my ass off that Deanna Mer-
ryman says her relationship with
Nascar driver Jeff Gordon ended be-
cause he cheated on her (The Racer's
Edge, October). Honey, he was never
yours to begin with. He was cheating
on his wife with you.
Julie Croft
Kennesaw, Georgia

As they say, "Hell hath no fury like a
woman scorned.” Deanna, you got
dumped. Get over it!
Melissa Kinnaman
Sterling, Colorado

A+ FOR NAKED COEDS
The Girls of the Big 10 pictorial (Octo-
ber) is a perfect 10. These women are
the best reason to go back to college.
Thomas Florey
Washington, D.C.

Big 10 beauty Braake Everett.

The only thing hotter than seeing

Kelsey Simpkins hold a cigar would be
seeing her smoke it.

Jim Coughlin

Tucson, Arizona

That's the only thing? You're lucky you don't
have our imagination.

1 attend the U.S. Coast Guard Acade-

my, where we have neither parties nor

the most gorgeous women. But at

least I now know which colleges to
visit on weekends.

Chris Greer

New London, Connecticut

You arc very lucky in the United States.
I live in Spain, where all of the college
girls have mustaches.
Pablo Nadal
Madrid, Spain
Are you sure those are girls? There are
some strange bars near the Madrid Bar-
ber College.

1 was disappointed with the lack of
representation from the University of

total

control

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Illinois. You chose only two women

from my alma mater. We deserved

better, especially since Hef graduated
from the institution.

Duane Phillips

Belleville, Illinois

Help! I need CPR after seeing Brooke

Everett from Penn State. She has it

all—beauty, brains and a perfect body.

Robert М. Wilderman

Lansdale, Pennsylvania

Readers, take note: If our pictorials ever

cause your heart to fail, please dial 911 in-

stead of writing us for help. It may take us
а few weeks to open your letter.

The University of Wisconsin photo
looks like it was snapped outside my
former fraternity house. Something’s
wrong with the picture, though: a sun-
ny day, topless girls mingling with Bad-
ger frat boys and not a beer in sight!
You're giving UW a bad reputation.
Douglas Lindquist
Pasadena, California
The photographer was standing on the keg
10 get a better angle.

WHACKING BUSH
Every American needs to read—and
then reread—Ambushed! (October) to

This cowboy hotes Bush.

discover how George W. Bush's poli-

cies affect average citizens. Molly Ivins

and Lou Dubose deserve a monthly

spot reporting on the failings of our
government.

Lawrence Lawson

Monterey, California

I spent many years working in resource
management. The examples in Am-
bushed! of how Bush is destroying the
environment are only the tip of the ice-

berg. 1 hope you like the look of Mars.

Earth will look just like that one day.
Doug Troutman
Lakeview, Oregon

The chances of Molly Ivins writing an
impartial piece about Bush are as like-
ly as Ann Coulter writing an artide
about the finer qualitics of Senator
Hillary Clinton. This was a political
editorial masquerading as a general-
interest article.

David Sikorsky
Savannah, Georgia

1 enjoy the magazine a great deal more
when you concentrate on displaying
bush rather than on campaigning
against Bush.
Jim Cox
Marietta, Georgia
Thank you for your inventive turn of phrase.
Imagine our restraint in not using your last
name in a similar way.

20Q WITH THE MAN SHOW MAN
Joe Rogan (October) is a sour,
pompous, misanthropic individual. The
Man Show was highly enjoyable when
Jimmy Kimmel and Adam Carolla were
hosting. But Rogan and Doug Stan-
hope are the worst replacements for a
ТУ show since Coy and Vance replaced
Boand Luke on The Dukes of Hazzard.
‘Tony Bueno
Sausalito, California
You've been waiting 20 years for the right
opportunity to put down those poor Haz-
zard cousins, haven't you?

Finally someone has the guts to speak
the truth. How could anyone really think
David Spade is handsome? Without his.
fame and fortune, he's nothing. From one
real man to another, thanks, Joe Rogan.
Paul Lopresti Jr.

Sewell, New Jersey

LUSCIOUS LINDSEY

Lindsey Vuolo (Employee of the Month,

October) is even hotter than when she
appeared as a Centerfold.

Stephen Roldan

‘Aiea, Hawaii

BOTTOMS UP
In October's Raw Data you list the five
least popular Walt Disney World rides.
1 work there as a cast member and can
definitely say that you've misread your
source book, The Unofficial Guide to
Walt Disney World. The Flying Unicorn
and Pteranodon Flyers are rides at
Universal's Islands of Adventure,
Thomas Galvin
Orlando, Florida
Thanks for setting us straight. Now put
your furry head back on and let that squeal-
ing five-year-old yank your tail.

E-mail: DEARPB@PLAYBOY.COM Or write: 730 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10019

ЫШ

ВУИ

you got home from work 5 minutes ago
the game started a half hour ago

Panasonic
ideas for life

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= 28

TOMMY HILFIGER

| з of the m

Jennifer
O'Dell

The Lost World's jungle
lover cleans up quite nicely

|f stranded in a prehistoric jungle,
ЕЕ could do worse than play tree
house with the untamed beauty por-
trayed by Jennifer O'Dell in three sea-
sons of the syndicated action series
The Lost World. “We were shooting in
a rain forest in Australia for eight
months a year,” she says. “I tried to
perform many of my own stunts, and
my costume would shrink when it got
wet.” That costume—a miracle of stra-
tegically torn buckskin—and season
one of the dinosaur-and-cheesecake
packed series can now be freeze-

"| crave it all—| want
my home life and also
to be a party animal.”

framed with a deluxe DVD boxed set.
Jennifer hopes a proposed fourth sea-
son will switch locales to Hawaii,
where she grew up; long stretches far,
far away from home wreak havoc on
her love life. “Having a long-distance
relationship is one of the most difficult
things I've done, anc it's not worth it,”
she says. “When you have chemistry
with someone, it's hard to fight that.
You just want to be with him.” If you
want to see Jennifer without vines in
her hair, look for the romantic comedy
Window Theory, in which she plays
the former flame of an unrepentant
playboy. "It's about 'What would have
happened if...'" she says. "I always
compare people to my first boyfriend
1 crave it all—| want my home life and
also to be a party animal."

PHY EY GILLES TOUCAS

[ afterhours

O'DELL YEAH

GLASS ACT: “I'm tough—
that's just my parsonality,”
says Jennifer. “I'm a hard-
core chick but also а klutz.
I'm tha first person to walk
into a glass door."

IT'S A LIVING:

EEE

ANIMAL FARM: Though
Jannifer owns dogs named
Bullat and Elvis, har ances-
tors preferred bigger pets.
“My grandmother raised

Ciydesdales, and my grand-
fathers ware cowboys,"
she says. "They did rodeos
since bafore | was born.”

"IP"

SPIN CYCLE:

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IT'S JANUARY AND...

...you haven't received
the coveted Pirelli 2004
calendar. Yet. The tire
company distributes

its Holy Grail (previous
years have featured
Heidi Klum and Kate
Moss) to only 40,000
customers. So buy some
Italian tires and succumb
to the laws of a-traction.

„уои just want to make it to February. Stats-
wise, more people kick the bucket this month
than any other. Stay alive and the month may
otherwise be uneventful: January also sees
the fewest divorces. It's when you're still pay-
ing for Christmas in July that pots start flying.

...you're going to take the icy plunge. There's
a purity about Polar Bear clubs. You don't
need certification, equipment or a hard body.
Just belly flop into the frigid water with like-
minded strangers—because it's there. Then
towel off and lament the extreme shrinkage.

...all those hours you've spent mastering the
rocket launcher, plasma grenade and needler
may finally pay off. Top video gamers will
start gathering in Los Angeles this month for
the finals of the first international Halo world
championship. Sponsors of the event have
promised a $30,000 purse. Geek on!

...you're celebrating the
New Year twice. The
first time involves bub-
bly and a midnight kiss
from a hot "friend." The
second, on January 22,
involves dancing drag-
ons, fireworks and moo
shoo pork in the nearest
Chinatown (or Chinese
restaurant, if need be).

afterhours ]

fish tales

4
CHICKS OF THE SEA
FLORIDA'S CHERISHED FIN FATALES SAVE THEIR SWIMMING HOLE

They've filled more fantasies than can fit into their tank and have
splashed around provocatively in more than a few movies (includ-
ing Analyze This), yet the mouthwatering mermaids of Wecki
Wachee аге an endangered species. Since 1947 Florida's Weeki
Wachee Springs Park has presented an aquatic show in which young
women in Lycra tails and bikini tops perform choreographed rou-
tines. “A mermaid has to be pretty, athletic and a great swimmer,”
says 30-year-old Robyn Anderson, park manager and mayor of
Wecki Wachee (population: nine). They can also last as long as two
minutes between gulps of air. This summer, aside from battling fin
rot and the Disneyfication of Florida, the attraction faced declining
revenue and pressure from water agencies that threatened to leave
the bathing beauties high and dry. But Anderson supplied a creative
business plan (the city now owns the park) and a renovation schedule
that resulted in a reprieve. “The water is amazing,” says Anderson.
“It's from a spring that feeds a river, and animals visit. А manatee
came in recently, watched the show and then started sucking on my
hip.” The big lout was acting like a typical male: Anderson says her
silent sirens have to resist many calls to go topless. “It would kill the
family atmosphere,” she says. Maybe, but we'd sure be hooked.

BELT BOTTOMS

A CHEEKY SLING LENDS A PERKIER POSTERIOR

Just as the Wonderbra crafts
cleavage where none existed
before, so the Biniki, the lat-
est in stealth underthings,
promises to boost the flat-
test caboose to J. Lo-esque
Prominence. That's fine for
playing dress-up, but when
it comes off we'll still be
there to lend a lifting hand.
(www.binikifashions.com)

[ afterhours

EXTREME SPORTS, REGULAR PAY

WE SHOW YOU THE MONEY EARNED BY OFF-BRAND STARS

Big-league athletes rake in millions each year. But what about the
guys you see on ESPN2 at three л.м.? We did some digging.

SNOCROSS (snowmobile motocross) The favorite: Blair Morgan,
10-time World Snowmobile Association champ. Biggest payday:
$14,000 at the Winter X Games. Quit your day job? What day job?
Last year Morgan won 19 races, nabbing $225,000 in prize dough.

CURLING (shuffleboard on ice) The favorite: Kevin Martin, who
took two of the four Grand Slams in the 2002-2003 season.
Biggest payday: $60,000 Canadian (damn!) at the Flexi-Coil Clas-
sic. Quit your day job? Nope. Martin's total annual winnings split
among four team members come to $11,000 U.S. apiece.

WAKEBOARDING (waterskiing on a board) The favorite: Darin
Shapiro, wakeboarding's Methuselah at 30 years old, holds six Pro
Wakeboarding Tour titles. Biggest payday: $20,000 at the Gravity
Games. Quit your day job? A top-five boarder can make around
$65,000 a year in prize money. Outside the top 10? You're sunk

DARTS (those sharp things) The favorite: Briton Phil “the Power”

Taylor, perhaps the greatest darter ever. Biggest payday: £50,000
at the Ladbrokes.com World Darts Championship. Quit your day
job? Sure, in the U.K. Taylor scores about $292,000 in prizes each
year. Of course, then the whole pub expects you to buy a round.

pot tl n
SPLITTING HARES

TIMBER! OUR RABBIT SPORTS WOOD

Like a lumberjack in a fuzzy fairy tale,
a reader in Oklahoma (emphasis on
oak) was cutting logs when a Rabbit
jumped out at him. His bunnies aren't
as cute as ours, but at least they'll
keep him warm at night.

DELI DELIGHT

SUPER SUB GIRL HEIDI RHODES IS
AVAILABLE WITH OR WITHOUT TOPPINGS

PLAYBOY: How did you find yourself behind the
counter, making sandwiches?

HEIDI: I'm just out of college, and I'm working my
ass off at this sub shop to save money so | can get out
of Ohio. | also teach ballet and
gymnastics—l'm working so
my dancing career can take
off. I'd love to be one of the
Pussycat Dolls. I'm double-
jointed, which never hurts.
PLAYBOY: Describe your day.
HEIDI; | do everything—take
orders, make subs, even do
deliveries. We're near campus,
so guys from the football team
like to hang around, and we
check out the hot girls. Don't
get me wrong. I love women,
but | like to stick with my boys.
They've been waiting a long time for this—I've never
even flashed anyone—so | hope | don’t disappoint.
PLAYBOY: What's your favorite sub?

HEIDI: I'm not a fan of meat, so | make a cheese sub.
PLAYBOY: Six-inch?

HEIDI: | stick with the foot-long.

Employee of the Month candidates: Send pictures to r arto Photography Depart-
‘ment, Attn: Employee of the Month, 680 North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago, nots
60611. Must be at least 18 years old. Must send photocopies of a driver's license
ard another vaîd ID (not а credit card), one of which must include a current photo.

DISTINCTIVE SINCE 1953

ass dl

“Hef says drink responsibly —

www.tanqueraycom 39

[ afterhours

LEER JETS

NEW PARTY PLANES INVITE YOU TO JOIN THE
MILE-HIGH STRIP CLUB

The romance of flight will never be quite the same again. Hot on the wings
of Hooters Air, Stripclubjets.com is vying to make air travel even saucier.
The high-flying outfit not only charters luxury jets, it stocks the cabins with
caviar, Cristal and dancers who take it all off after takeoff. Think of it as a
one-stop-shopping experience for the bachelor-party-planning blues. Want
to wing it to Sin City? The orgiastic outfit's fleet of small jets takes to the wild
blue yonder with as many strippers, runway models and even porn stars as
you—and the plane's weight limit—can handle. (The company also has two
DC-10 party planes that are often available on popular routes, such as New
York-Las Vegas, though you won't necessarily know everyone on board.)
The high-altitude high jinks command stratospheric prices (starting
around $3,000 an hour for a girl and a jet) and attract a clientele made ир
mostly of rock stars, pro athletes and Vegas honchos. Split among five guys
the rates come down to earth, but passengers never do, according to a
spokesperson. “Some of our girls get down and dirty and naughty,” he says.
Our tip: If you find that you're having trouble sitting still during a bicoastal
just blame it on an unexpected bout of turbulence.

50 THIS YEAR! LIGHT CANDLES FOR...

...15 Playmates, Adam Ant, the Breathalyzer, Brown
v. Board of Education, Burger King, color TV broad-
casts, Elvis Costello, Godzilla, Marvelous Marvin
Hagler, Patty Hearst, successful kidney transplants,
Lord of the Flies, The Lord of the Rings, Michael
Moore, nuclear submarines, On the Waterfront, peanut
M&M's, Rowdy Roddy Piper, polio vaccinations,
Dennis Quaid, Reddi-wip, Condoleezza Rice, “Rock
Around the Clock,” Jerry Seinfeld, Al Sharpton,
Howard Stern, The Tonight Show, Jonn Travolta, Trix,
Kathleen Turner, Oprah Winfrey, Yanni and Pia Zadora

‘tipsheet —

WE'RE PUTTING WORDS
IN YOUR MOUTH

NOW YOU NO LONGER HAVE TO
SEARCH FOR SOMETHING TO SAY

Meralgia pares-
thetica: A burning
or tingling sensation
in the thighs ex-
perienced by some
women when they
wear low-rise jeans.
Oddly enough, we
get the same feeling
when women wear
low-rise jeans.

Hillbilly Cadillacs: Retired police cars that
are popular among drivers in Appalachia.
The Ford Crown Victorias can be bought at
auction for as low as $2,000 and will speed
Cletus back to the holler in record time.

Affordable weapon:
What the Navy calls its
latest tweak to cruise-
missile technology. It's
a reusable, unmanned
aerial vehicle that gives
more bang for the buck at
$50,000 a pop—a Tom-
ahawk costs $1 million.

Reflectoporn: The flouting of eBay's ban
on “material that depicts human genitalia”
by people selling reflective items—kettles,
toasters, TV sets, etc. The seller photographs
the item while nude, so prospective buyers
can see the seller's image on its surface.

Alpha Betty: Term coined by marketing
firm Trend House in reference to a high-
income woman age 25 to 44 who is suffi-
ciently skilled and talented to have no need
for male support or expertise.

Headsnapper: An eye-watering case of
BO based on a rating system used by
Gillette's research lab, which employs odor
judges who sniff armpits and grade them on
a 10-point scale. A pit that merits a 10 is so
strong it makes "your head snap back."

~ Тће Вескћат: А рибјс

mohawk in Britain, where

[ ¥ 79 percent of women trim.

their muffs; of those, 27

| percent favor a stripe, à la
Soccer star David Beck-

|. ham's occasional сой.

Г Bonus: The all-bare look is
known as the Hollywood.

8
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$
H

ITS A WHOLE NEW
ОР DVD

ALIEN

QUU AD ЕЙ о сү

4 Terrifying Movies
9 Amazing, Discs
] Ultimate Collection

www.foxhome.com/alieng

К Takes All Till Death Do Us Party

Kinds 1,452 readers have lifetime ғідүвоү subscriptions.

6'2" — Tallest Playmate Price Check

(Cara Michelle, 12/00) т
4'11"-shorest | The Slugger’s Wife

(Sue Williams, 4/65; |
harta Conway, 4/66) $40 , 2 50 Record amount paid for a copy
41" — Largest bust of pLavsoy issue No. 1, which cost 50 cents on the
(Rosemarie Hillcrest, 10/64) newsstand in December 1953.
32" — Smallest bust i
= Approximately 5,000
(14 diferent Playmates) still exist, typically
28" — Largest waist valued at $4,000.
(Rebecca Scott, 8/99) The record-holding
18" — Smallest waist io asd (rao isse
(oni Mattis, 11/60; | ШЕШӘ ДЕГЕ
Mickey Winters, 9/62) | gio (who famously

" а agonized over wife
ele УШР Marilyn Monroe s sex:
Асад symbol status) on the
21" — Smallest hips condition that it not be
(Carmella DeCesare, 4/03) sold until after his death.
150 Ibs. — Heaviest The record price
(Christine Williams, 10/63) for a non-DiMaggio

85 Ibs. — Lightest PLAYBOY No. 1 is |
(oni Mattis, 11/60) $18,800, set in 1995. |
Н үг —

H FT j 4 , ”
Winner by a Hair Informal We're Number, uh...
Playmates by hair color: Atti re schools, contrary to ubiquitous cam-

= pus lore, have been named Top Party

Required School by pLavBoy. The winners: Uni-
Blonde: ^N Red: versity of Wisconsin (1968), UCLA
44.4% N 6.8% Number of smok- (1976), Cal State-Chico (1987) and Arizona

==] ing jackets in State (2002).
B RS Black: Hef's closet: 16 А. 3
rown: Д 2.796

45.596 2 Number of silk in

рајате 112 Familiar 10 pres

| Faces 8 Femin

Not-So-Equal Opportunity
men have appeared on the cover:
Peter Sellers, Burt Reynolds,
Steve Martin, Donald Trump, Dan

Aykroyd, Jerry Seinfeld, Leslie Nielsen

and Gene Simmons.

by Chicago jury
deciding Hugh
Hefner's fate оп

obscenity charges

- for the pictorial

The Nudest Jayne 430. Marietta, Mississippi, pop. 258 — Ellen Stratton, December 1959

72 Mansfield.

а Least Populous Playmate

кашы Birthplaces

5 Bo Derek, Penny James,
Cynthia Maddox, Lillian Müller,
Shannon Tweed, Cyndi Wood

4 Barbi Benton, Jenny McCarthy,
Anna Nicole Smith, Marilyn Monroe,
Teddi Smith

Most appear-
ances on

the cover of
PLAYBOY:

The Bottom Five

426. Bourbon, Missouri, pop. 1,328 — Ruthy Ross, June 1973
427. Frederic, Wisconsin, pop. 1,262 — Rita Lee, November 1977
428. Detroit, Texas, pop. 776 — Lisa Baker, November 1966

429. Frankford, Missouri, рор. 351 – PJ. Lansing, February 1972

‘According to 2000 Census. Figures are lar Americar- bom Playmates will available data sheet which were recorded only sporadically before 1963.)

ENEMIES MOVE IN
PREDICTABLE PATTERNS.

MINCE I E.
РА РА Ра мм

VIDEO GAME AWARDS |

THURSDAY, DECEMBER АТН 9PM/8C |

“For the last tim
it is not a dress!"

movie of the month

[ THE LORD OF THE RINGS: ]
THE RETURN OF THE KING
Has the blockbuster trilogy saved the best for last?

The climactic battle of the second LOTR installment was а
massive, sword-clanging melee to behold. But according
to those involved in The Return of the King, this month's
final chapter in the quest to destroy a troublesome ring and
save Middle-earth from eternal darkness, fans haven't seen
anything yet. “We're shooting a big scene at the top of this
volcano, and | look out and see thousands of New Zealand
army folk dressed in Orc armor," says Sean Astin, а.К.а.
Samwise, Frodo's furry-tooted Hobbit pal. “Making these
movies, I'm used to saying, Wow, this is big’ when seeing
a vista of tents, people, five helicopters ferrying in the crew.

But filming the Mount Doom se-
quence, | thought, Wow, this is “We had to go
deeper emotion-

even bigger.” Then again, size
isn't everything, especially if

ally than ever.
That's scary.”

you're playing a character who's
under four feet tall. “This movie
has 10,000 guys charging on
horses, but what was going to
make it epic was the interaction between Frodo and Sam
on the volcano,” Astin says. “We had to go deeper emo-
tionally than ever. That's scary, not the action.” So now that
it's over, did Astin bag any souvenirs? “I got my sword and
Hobbit feet. But | can tell you | won't miss putting those
things on. Whenever | wore them, | thought, | can't wait to
get out of this stuff." (December 17) —Stephen Rebello

now showing

The Last Samurai

(Tom Cruise, Tony Goldwyn) Sounds like chop-socky, but it's
actually a mesh of historical epics as Cruise plays a boozy Civil
War vet hired to modernize the Japanese army and snuff the
samurai. Captured by those noble warriors, he switches loyal-
ties, and the blade-swinging action shifts into overdrive.

Our call: Jokesters whisper that
Cruise signed on so he could be
the tall guy for once, but realis-
tic martial arts (no wires!) and
the redemptive theme should
deter any multiplex hara-kiris.

Stuck on You

(Matt Damon, Greg Kinnear, Eva Mendes, Cher) The Farrelly
brothers’ latest grossathon features Damon and Kinnear as
conjoined twins who hit Hollywood so that one half can chase
his showbiz dreams. The boys hit pay dirt on TV, start living
large and hook up with the Olsen twins. Kidding...damn it.

The Alamo

(Dennis Quaid, Billy Bob Thornton) Sure, we remember the
Alamo—Hollywood won't let us forget it. This hairy-chested
18005 epic takes the umpteenth cinematic shot at the stal-
warts, led by Sam Houston (Quaid) and Davy Crockett (Thorn-
ton), who defended a Texas fort against the Mexican army.

self & Irene. We fear the latter.

Our call: The Farrellys are ge-
niuses at stretching а joke—if
it’s funny to begin with. The dif-
ference separates There's Some-
thing About Mary from Me, My-

Our call: Even John Wayne
bombed with this heroic history
lesson, but epics are big now.
Think of this bloody patriotism
primer as our homegrown
Braveheart—minus the kilts.

Cold Mountain

(Jude Law, Nicole Kidman, Renée Zellweger, Natalie Portman)
Haven't had enough of shell-shocked Civil War vets? In this
adaptation of the best-selling book, a soldier (Law) braves
hardships (and cameos by scads of Oscar-hungry thespians) to
reunite with his woman (Kidman) back on the farm.

Our call: The last time director
Anthony Minghella adapted a
war-era novel, The English Pa-
tient won nine Oscars. Then
again, we still call that film The
Date Movie That Would Not End.

[ movies

reviews

If you think stadium seating and con-
cession stands that scoop Haagen-
Dazs are swanky, brace yourself for
the latest moviegoing upgrade—
deluxe theaters so refined you almost
expect a butler to tear your ticket. Of
course, you also need to brace your-
self for the cost of that ticket—around
$14. What do you get for the premium
price? At Los Angeles theaters pushing
the posh-plex trend, including ArcLight
and the Bridge: Cinema de Lux, ameni-
ties include well-appointed lobbies with
bookstores, cafes that pour specialty
Martinis and a concierge desk ready to
book reservations for a restaurant, a
cab, next week's blockbuster and, for
all we know, a nonstop to Paris. At
showtime, smartly uniformed ushers
guide ticket holders to reserved seats
in stadium-style theaters equipped with
wall-to-wall curved screens and digital
sound, where “greeters” provide a brief
preshow introduction to the movie. But
what sets them apart the most, per-
haps, is a policy against showing com-
mercials, limiting preview trailers to
four and barring entry to latecomers.

“We're attracting people who want
an enhanced moviegoing experience
that's nothing like sitting home in your
living room," says Christopher Forman,
CEO of ArcLight Cinemas. "We want
each guest to feel a special connection
with our staff and theaters. Aside from
an employee getting overenthusiastic
about the celebrities who turn up,
we've had great feedback."

Young moviegoers seem connected,
at least to a point. Says Gary, a UCLA
junior, "The seats are awesome, and

art house

I-F LEA ]
so is the picture. Last week on a date,
though, | spent $28 on tickets and
$50 in the cafe. But my date was im-
pressed, so it was probably worth it."
Even jaded cinephiles are not im-
mune. "Anything that encourages peo-
ple not to go to the movies in tracksuits
15 fine by me," says Kenneth Turan,
senior film critic for the Los Angeles

Which vintage wine goes best with Vin Diesel?

Times. "I'm not exactly sure what those
concierges are for, but who's going to
complain about а gorgeous lobby,
comfortable seats and perfect presen-
tation?" Damn few, which is why For-
man hopes his company's initial "cau-
tious experiment" will mark "the first of
many such theaters." Sounds good—
he'd just better hope that people don't
feel too silly sitting in such luxury
while watching Dickie Roberts: Former
Child Star Ill. —Stephen Rebello

21 Grams

It takes effort to grasp the
nonlinear structure of this
drama about an accidents
effects on a chain-smoking
heart patient (Sean Penn),
a cokesnorting housewife
(Naomi Watts) and a Bible-
thumping ex-con (Benicio
Del Toro)—but the payoff
is worth it. Amores Perros
director Alejandro Gonza-
lez Inárritu delivers a gritty
parable about the real con-
sequences of random ac-
lions. —Andrew Johnston

IN THE CUT Meg Ryan is a professor who
starts having hot sex with homicide cop
Mark Ruffalo while he's investigating grisly
murders in her neighborhood. Jane Campi-
on's film is disarming in its openness but
lumpy in its storytelling. yy

George Clooney
and nenne Zeta-Jones are the best-look-
ing co-stars of the year, but the Coen broth-
ers’ comedy about a divorce lawyer and a
gold digger isn't as satisfying as it ought to
be, despite some funny moments. YE

KILL BILL VOL. 1 Uma Thurman is a
bloody bride out for revenge in Quentin
Tarantino’s homage to samurai sagas,
spaghetti Westerns and Hong Kong chop-
socky. It's the ultimate genre remix. Lucy
Liu and Daryl Hannah co-star. Ууу

Sean Penn, Tim Robbins
and Kevin Bacon are terrific as Boston
boyhood pals whose lives intersect again
when Penn's daughter is murdered. Direc-
tor Clint Eastwood lets things drag on a bt
but it's still quite good.

PIECES OF APRIL Katie Holmes has her
dysfunctional family over for Thanksgiving
dinner in her tiny apartment. Director Peter
Hedges fills his modest comedy with quirky
characters, well played by Patricia Clark-
son, Oliver Platt and Sean Hayes. yy

E ` Hayden Christensen
plays the Pom US. E bogus report-
ing shook up The New Republic. Peter Sars-
gaard is excellent as the editor who takes
him down. With such subject matter, this
film should be much more potent. | ҰҰУ

VERONICA GUERIN Cate Blanchett is
dynamic as the real-life fearless Irish re-
porter who took on a vicious crime lord.
Still, it's hard to root for a character who
insists on putting herself and her family in
harm's way over and over again—espe-
cially in such a sanctimonious film. УУ

> 1 0 Val Kilmer plays 1980s
porn legend John Holmes, who finds him-
self embroiled in the investigation of a no-
torious multiple murder on Los Angeles's
Wonderland Avenue, Lisa Kudrow and Kate
Bosworth co-star in this grimy film, which
sheds little light on the subject. У

Worth а look
Forget it

Don't miss
Good show

22. Geta closer look at www.audiovox.com or:
7 Tcal 1-800-645-4994. | hig’

‘Audfovox

ALL YOUR FAVORITE TURN-ONS.

reviews [ dvds

avd ot tne month CET

[ PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN ]

Depp swashbuckles in a see-worthy pirate adventure

After the debacle of Cutthroat Island, one might have predicted that this action-com-
еду pirate flick would sink like a cement galleon too. Instead, Pirates of the
Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl hoisted the secondbiggest box office of any
nonanimated movie last summer—and with good reason. It's hard to tell if dein Depp,

who plays his "good" pirate like
à rock star, is channeling Cap-
tain Morgan or chugging it, but
his widely hailed hammery lifts
a Disney brand extension to the
level of gourmet cheese. Fellow
scenery chewer Geoffrey Rush
lords it over the titular cursed
ship and morphs with his crew
into the best scalawag skele-
tons your DVD dollar can buy.
Orlando Bloom and Brit looker
Keira Knightley provide ro-
mantic relief in this near-epic
Extras: Depp and director Gore
Verbinski offer commentary,
and a second disc has deleted
scenes, bloopers and documen-
taries. ¥¥¥ — —Gregory Fagan

SEABISCUIT (2003) Three Depression-era
men hitch their fates to a feisty long-shot
horse and edge out the New Deal in the
race to upliftthe masses. Writer and direc-
tor Gary Ross strips Laura Hillenbrand's
best-seller down to sentimental essentials,
but solid tums from Tobey Maguire, Jeff
Bridges and Chris Cooper—plus jaw-drop- |
ping race scenes—put meat on this Bis-
cuit. Extras: a full
feedbag, including
A&E's The True
Story of Seabis-
cuit and footage
of the 1938 show-
down with War Ad-
miral. ууу —G.F

OPEN RANGE (2003) The last time Kevin
Costner sat in the director's chair wearing
a cowboy hat, he rode into the sunset with
seven Oscars for Dances With Wolves.
This time Costner is a reluctant gunfighter
turned cattleman who has to defend all
that makes America great against a ruth- |
less rancher. Their showdown is a com- |
pelling symphony of testosterone and
blood. Extras: а __

behind-the-scenes
video diary—from
casting to post-
production—a
documentary and
deleted scenes.
a —B.M.

THE SECRET LIVES OF DENTISTS
(2003) Marital tensions run deeper than
a root canal in this study of a family in tur-
moil by the always thoughtful Alan Rudolph.
Is comely Hope Davis cheating on dentist
husband Campbell Scott? Is Denis Leary's
intrusive, deranged patient for real? It's
hard to tell for sure, especially when youre
distracted by the winceinducing dental
surgery scenes.
Extras: director's
commentary,
cast interviews,
deleted scenes
and floss (just
kidding). vw

— Buzz McClain

BAD BOYS Il (2003) With Will Smith and
Martin Lawrence reprising their turns as
wisecrack-and-bullet-spraying narcotics
cops and director Michael Bay blowing
shit up real good, Bad Boys II is the bud-
dy action-comedy squared. An evil Miami-
Cuba ecstasy axis affords Smith and
Lawrence license to lay waste to all sorts
of things—from a KKK rally to a back-
woods shanty-
town. If you don't
expect coher-
ence, it's a blast.
Extras: inside the
explosions; seven
deleted scenes.
wh GE

[ FILM SCHOOL ]

This month's lesson: gridiron
glory on the big screen

Punt, pass and kick back: The only prob-
lem with the hype-athon between the NFL
playoffs and the Super Bowl? There's no
freaking football to watch. If you decide to
supplement the extended pregame with
a few pigskin flicks, here's our playbook:
Hollywood's take on the sport tends to fall
into one of two categories. Inspirational
football movies offer heroes overcoming
adversity on the gridiron and thus in the
world at large. Knute Rockne, All Ameri-
can (1940) set up this play, which has
been perfected by the likes of Rudy
(1993), Wildcats (1986) and the only foot-
ball movie that felt like a Hallmark card,
Remember the Titans (2000), Ironic foot-

Burt goes for extra points.

ball movies bash helmets against these
tearjerkers, often plumbing the sport's
seamier side for shock and humor. The
Longest Yard (1974), with convicts as
football heroes, was one of the first to get
down in the dirt, followed up the middle by
Semi-Tough (1977), North Dallas Forty
(1979) and Oliver Stone's hard-hitting Any
Given Sunday (1999). Which genre will
warm you up? Flip a coin, and for extra
points check out The Program (1993),
The Waterboy (1998) and Versity Blues
(1999). Hut, hut, hike! —B.M.

———————— Sleaze frame

Before she made The Lord of the Rings"
Middle-earth a place worth warring over,
Liv Tyler played a blossoming young
woman who finds herself in Tuscany
amid a bunch of Italian bohemians one
summer, in Ber-
nardo Bertolucci's
Stealing Beauty
(1996). Іп one ripe.
scene, she edges
closer to her goal
of shedding her
virginity by letting
anartist sketch her
in a sun-dappled,
semitopless state.
More vino, luv?

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reviews [ music

[ BLINK-182* BLINK-182 |

Punk's class clowns finally graduate

What music needs even more than jok-
ers is aplace to junk them once they ask
to be taken seriously. (What do you do
with a Beastie Boy when he suddenly
prefers fighting for Tibet rather than for
your right to party?) Now Blink-182 is
busy painting itself into the same corner,
and it looks like a smart move. On their
(can it be?) seventh album, the Blink
boys are looking for respect—no more
tighty-whities videos or sixth-grade-
clever album titles such as Enema of
the State. Tracks “Feeling This” and “Vi-
olence" show the trio at its heaviest and
most experimental, blending electronic
samples and hip-hop-influenced phras-
ing into buzzing guitars. The classic
Blink sound still launches a few spitballs,
however, especially on “Go,” a punk
burner complete with furious drumming
and sing-along chorus. They're growing
up and it's good—awkward moments
and all. (Geffen) ¥¥¥ —Jason Buhrmester

ALICIA KEYS + The Diary of Alicia Keys
After Keys won five Grammys for her
2001 debut—including the kiss-of-death
Best New Artist—was there anywhere for
the streetwise pianist-singer to go but
down? If she harbors any self-doubt, it's
well masked. Her sultry alto voice and
ivory tickling are more passionate than
ever; on the standout track “Streets of
New York,” with -

rappers Rakim
and Nas, Keys
belts it out like
the soul sophisti-
cate she has be-
come. U Records)
¥¥¥ —Alison Prato

GODSMACK + The Other Side
The alt-metalheads in Godsmack should
have enrolled in Led Zep 101 before try-
ing to create an acoustic album that still
rocks. The Other Side, featuring un-
plugged versions of their hits plus some
new tunes, is а dull mishmash. Sully Erna
moans over stale riffs and subdued
drums that never quite capture the band
correctly. We're
not writing them
off, but we hope
they plug in the
amps on their
next record.
(Universal) 4%
—Patty Lamberti

THE BEATLES * Let It Be...Naked

Let It Be was planned as a backto-basics
project. No wonder Paul McCartney has
long raged against the final version, lard-
ed with the strings and bells of producer
Phil Spector. Naked, assembled from stu-
dio tapes, captures the simplicity of the
original vision. The iconic title track is
haunting, not overwrought. Gems such as
"One After 909"
are stripped, fun
and rollicking.
Congratulations,
Sir Paul. Drop by
and we'll buy you
a burger. (EMI)
YY Y —Tim Mohr

AL GREEN + 1 Can't Stop

Reunions rarely work, but here's an
exception: The Memphis master rejoins
producer Willie Mitchell in the same studio
where they created the world’s greatest
soul albums 25 years ago. It doesn't hold
up to Full of Fire or Livin’ for You, but it's
better than pretenders like R. Kelly. Green
is in strong voice, and the Hodges
brothers are the =

crack sidemen

they've always
been. All that's
missing are those
great drums.
(Blue Note) ¥¥¥
—Leopold Froehlich

phoning it in

[ DMX GAMES ]

DMX, who wrote his first rhyme at
the age of 13, swears his latest
album, Grand Champ, is his hip-hop
finale, but we're skeptical. The X

of all trades—whose rap sheet
includes movies (next up is Never
Die Alone) and a canine clothing
line, Boomer 129—called in from a
McDonald's parking lot while on tour.

PLAYBOY: Are you swear-on-the-Bible
retiring from rap?

DMX: Yep. I'm going out like | came in—
banging 'em. The rap game has nothing
10 do with talent anymore. Bullshit is
getting wild play. | can’t get down like
that. I'm going to the church. I want to.
become a pastor. x

Рілувоу: What inspired
the man who recorded
It's Dark and Hell Is
Hot to turn to
God?

ому: The only
reason I'm.
here is.
because
God has
been
watching over me.
There have been too
many times when I was
supposed to get killed.

He wants me to save
souls, to speak his word.
PLAYBOY: How did you
impact the rap game?
DMX: | took that jiggy shit
and brought it over to
the streets. | changed the
direction rap was going.
That was the best feeling
in the world.

PLAYBOY: You've done movies
with Steven Seagal and Jet Li. Who's
the bigger badass?

Dmx: Jet Li.

PLAYBOY: What's superfame like?

Dmx: | get a lot of love. If 1 want
McDonald's, | get it for free. But at the
same time, | get the wrong order be-
cause bitches are running around like,
“Oh my god! DMX!" They don't know
what the fuck to put in the bag. It'll
make you laugh, and it'll make you cry.
PLAYBOY: What's your favorite rap album
of all time?

ом: My third,

PLAYBOY: Who's your favorite rapper of
all time?

Dmx: Ме.

pLaygoy: Would you mind if your kids
grew up to be rap stars?

ом»: My children will be whatever

the fuck they want to be, as long

as it's positive and beneficial. And
profitable. —Dewey Hammond

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reviews [ games

PS2, Xbox, PC), the grizzled hero
has rejoined the NYPD and once
again finds himself accused of
murder. The sequel to the block-
buster is a darker, more complex
tale of betrayal and deliverance,
with one twist: Payne has a new
love interest, Mona Sax, the first
character in the series he doesn't
summarily mow down with his
double-fisted MAC-10s. But don't
worry about the romance angle
turning this shootout into Gigli.
The nonstop action sequences re-
main intact, complete with the slow-
motion mode that helped gamers
put bullets between the eyes of en-
emies long before The Matrix even
had a game. ¥¥¥4 — —Peter Suciu

` MAX PAYNE 2: THE FALL OF MAX PAYNE ]

The trigger-happy hero becomes one of New York's Finest—and deadliest

Pumping people full of lead and tossing Molotov cocktails isn't a logical means of prov-
ing you're not guilty of murder—except in militia groups and video games. The ap-
proach certainly helped detective Max Payne clear his name and avenge the murder of
his family in his noir-action debut. In Max Payne 2: The Fall of Max Payne (Rockstar,

MAXIMO VS. ARMY OF ZIN (Capcom,
PS2) In your battle with mechanized beast-
ies as the valiant knight Maximo, attacks
strip pieces of cherished armor until you're
left rescuing peasants in ye olde boxers.
Luckily, when caught with your pants
down you can switch characters to the
Grim Reaper and free the tortured souls
trapped inside your enemies. The game's
tricky puzzles and
gorgeous graph-
ics will keep you
in your under-
pants all day—in
the game and on
the couch. ¥¥¥
—Scott Steinberg

SPYHUNTER 2 (Midway, PS2, Xbox,
GameCube) It's still a solid concept: Drive
that way, really fast, and if something
gets in your way, blow it to bits. Enemy
vehicles ensure youll die early and often
in SH2's missions, and since there are no
checkpoints, you'll waste hours revving
your car, SUV, motorcycle or snowmobile
over the same stretch of pavement.
There's a lot to n
like—the action,
the controls, the
graphics—but at
some point you
may run out of
gas. We did. ¥¥
—Josh Robertson

| MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE—OPERATION

SURMA (Atari, PS2, Xbox, GameCube)
Your mission, should you choose to ac-
cept it, is to thwart Simon Algo, a hacker
armed with the ultimate computer virus.
Unlike most hackers, however, Algo is no
myopic teenager; to bring him down, you
employ firepower and spy gadgets such
as retinal scanners and digital binoculars.
One fact that isn't
top secret: The
Splinter Cell-in-
spired action is
more entertaining
than the last MI
movie. ¥¥¥
—John Gaudiosi

ESPN COLLEGE HOOPS 2K4 (ESPN
Videogames, PS2, Xbox) Now you can
be just like college b-ballers and blow off
class to practice hoops. This year's edi-
tion lets you create a school, recruit play-
ers, design plays and even choose a
fight song. Tight controls are what make
this game great, so get ready for fast
breaks and slick moves such as pump
fakes and double
clutches. Or if
your name is Le
Bron James, skip
this game and
head directly to
NBA 2004. ¥¥¥
—Jason Buhrmester

[ SHE SPIES ]

Video game Bond girl Mya
discusses her double life
Mya's love may be “like wo," as she
claims on her recent hit album Moodring,
but her gaming skills? Not so hot. We talk
to the R&B chanteuse about providing the
voice for undercover agent Mya Starling
James Bond 007: Everything or Noth-
ing (EA, PS2, Xbox, GameCube) and per-

forming the game's title track.

YBoY: Are you а gamer?
MYA: 1 own a PlayStation 2 and an
Xbox, but my brothers always kick my
ass at anything but Tetris.

A So why appear in a video game?
Mra: Games are hot. Plus, Bond's been
around for a minute. The man's a stud.
It's about time he had a worthwhile.
supporting cast.
рїлүвоү: What do you and your charac-
ter have in common?
мүд: She's many things in one package:
‘sexy, strong and gel
but also tough. Li
me, she's a strong

qualifies you for a
role as a spy?

mra: 1 go to the
shooting range daily.
How many women
can say that?
Рідувоу: Anything
guys could learn
from Bond about
scoring?

MYA: Don't try so

hard. Bond is
chill, laid-back
and confident.
He likes to stroke
the ladies. Every
woman knows

a little stroke
never hurts.

Kenwood DT-7000S ($300) For a $13
monthly fee, Sirius satellite radio beams
100 channels of tunes, entertainment
and talk programming without commer-
cials or inane DJ chatter. But until now,
satellite radio has been for the most part
confined to the car. Kenwood's DT-
7000S is the first dedicated home
stereo satellite radio receiver. It displays
song information and allows you to
check what's playing on another chan-
nel before flipping the dial.

WHERE AND HOW TO BUT ON PAGE 29.

They're back. And they're itching for action. With tons of planets to conquer ina whole new gigantic galaxy, you
better believe Ratchet & Clank are gonna sink their teeth into some destruction. Ummm, destruction. With
weapon upgrades, mods, armor and the ability for Ratchet to get stronger and smarter as the game goes on, this
could get uglier than the Grandmas In Bikinis Calendar after-party. Speaking of parties, there's also hoverbike
racing, space combatand gladiator arenas. As far as weapons and gadgets go, Ratchet & Clank are stacked with
50 newones, along with unlockable upgrades, so by the end of the journey, you'll go through more weapons and
gadgets than a hungry fat man will go through chicken wings at lunch. Lock and load, baby, lock and load.

YES, YES, YES, YES, YES, YES, YES, AND HELL YEAH.

www.us.playstation.com

TEEN T Ratchet and Clank is a trademark of Sony Comput
PlayStation. Entertainment America Inc Developed by Insomniac

р XRLD. Games. ©2003 Sony Computer Enterteinment America
Е, dii ED Mild Violence. Inc PlayStation" ande Р5 Familylogo are registered

INS@MNI In Your World: Bay in Cures ira trademark of Sony‏ ا
ine 5 IN‏ 5

‘Computer Entertainment America Inc.

books

reviews

г ODD THOMAS » DEAN KOONTZ ]

йге supernatural thriller from the author who makes horror fun

The titular protagonist in scare-meister
Koontz's latest novel sees dead people,
and that's about the only thing he has in
common with Haley Joel Osment. Named
Odd because of “an uncorrected birth cer-
tificate error,” the self-deprecating 20-
year-old is in a peculiar situation: His abili-
ty to interact with the restless spirits of the
afterlife means he hes no present life of
his own. In the company of dead men, he
finds, their drama takes precedence over
everything else, including his wedding.
“Every day brims with mystery, adventure
and terror,” Odd laments. “But too much
mystery is an annoyance. Too much ad-
venture is exhausting. And a little terror
goes a long way.” Still, Odd makes the
best of his bizarre ability, whether he's
confronting ghosts, fending off coyotes or
trying to prevent the town’s next murder. If
Stephen King is the Rolling Stones of hor-
ror novels, Koontz is the Beatles: He puts
the lightheartedness into guts and gore.
(Bantam) ¥¥¥ —Alison Prato

| Odd |
| Thomas

EE E 88.

CALL ME THE BREEZE » Patrick McCabe
It's a testament to the skill of Butcher Boy
author McCabe that we like his characters
regardless of how misanthropic they can
be. Take Joey Tallon, the drug-addled hero
of Call Me the Breeze, which is set in
Northern Ireland. Tallon's frantic musings,
fueled by copious psychedelics, don't give
us much of a plot: a true love named Jacy,
an obsession with rock and roll and an ap-
athy for just about everything else. Tallon
is frustrating but ultimately endearing

enough to convince us that he is worth
wading through his frenzied thoughts to
know. Not until midbook does the ride
mellow out enough to re-
veal the real depth of
the story McCabe has
created from his charac-
ter's quest for identity.
In this case the high is
worth the initial shak-
iness. (Harper Collins)
ЖУУ —Jason Buhrmester

THE SERIAL KILLER FILES

Harold Schechter

Homicidal maniacs have been terrorizing
society at least since Roman emperor
Nero used prisoners as human candles.
Organized by categories such as era, lo-
cation and age, this 368-page psycho:
pedia provides bios on dozens of mass
murderers from antiquity to the present.
True-crime vet Schechter also delves into
motives and provides a helpful list of child-
hood warning signs. A chapter devoted to
serial killer culture even explains that
you're not glorifying sickos by buying
this book (or a clown painting by John
Wayne Gacy) but simply
“identifying with people
who act out the dark,
lawless impulses the rest
of us repress"—which we
think should probably be
high on the list of warn-
ing signs. (Ballantine)
yyy —Patty Lamberti

POMPEII » Robert Harris

Fans of apocalyptic novels are sure to ap-
preciate one in which corpulent senators,
brave gladiators and the meek masses all
get buried under molten magma. As with
Titanic, we know how this one ends, but
that's not the point. The story takes place
іп 79 A.D. and centers on Marcus Attilius,
an engineer sent to investigate the
Italian city's malfunctioning aqueduct sys-
tem—only to discover a wee bigger prob-

lem. Harris (Enigma,
Fatherland) uses exten- e A

sive research, the pac-
ing of a thriller and a lit-

ROBERT
HARRIS

ШЕШШ

tle artistic license to
bring to life a culture
long ago petrified in
ash. (Random House)
yy — —Jessica Riddle

INTIMATE * Marc Baptiste

Baptiste is world renowned for his cine-
matic photographs of Hollywood celebri-
ties and high fashion. Here he eschews
both, training his expert lens on dozens
of unfamous female forms often model-
ing no more than a seductive pout and
high heels. Whether reclining on a seedy
motel couch or gam-
boling in the frothy
tropical surf, Bap-
tiste’s uninhibited
beauties retain an
air of seductive mys-
tery. Which is a pretty
mean feat, consider-
ing theyre naked as
jaybirds. (Universe)
wy% —Russ Craig

Looking for + rigina g

How about an inal series.

ies Ev и

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series. Emmy* Award-winning, critically acclaimed award-winning WWII miniseries. The most original
original series from HBO Video. From Sex and The gifts this season are now available wherever DVDs
City" and The Sopranos” to Six Feet Under” to Oz“ are sold.

2 1610/1616

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Ney...11's personal

MAN

Lite in the Fast Lane

Zero to 60 in under four seconds in a Ford? Will wonders never cease? Ford's street-legal 2005 GT
(pictured) reprises the company's legendory GT40 midengine coupe, which won the grueling 24-hour Le
Mans four years in a row in the 1960s. (“Ferrari's ass is mine” was the mantra of Ford racing team boss
Carroll Shelby back then.) The new GT is powered by a 500 hp supercharged УВ that pumps out loads of torque. Those
aluminum-and-carbon-fiber panels—as well as the 220 mph speedometer ond the 8,000 rpm tach—resemble the ones an the

original. (Good news, МВА stars: The GT is 15 inches longer and four inches taller than the СТАО.) Forget abaut traction control
and other pansy electronics; driver skill is essential for this baby. Your reward is а ride that replicates what you'd get оп a race-

track. Think the GT's $145,000 price tag is a bit steep? It’s still
a steal campared with the Ferrari 360 Modena ($170,000) and
the Lomborghini Murciélago ($282,000). Ford will build only
1,500 GTs this year.

Remote Patrol

Needless to say, TiVo found a praminent place in this month's
50 Products That Changed the World (page 220). Now Pioneer
has taken the “watch what you want, when yau want” genius
of TiVo one step further with a machine thai combines а TiVo
and a DVD recorder. With the $1,200 DVR-810H
(below) you can: (1) schedule and record programs
while playing a DVD; (2) play programs fram the
hard drive while recarding from the hard drive anta
о DVD; (3) transfer cantent at high speed from the
hard drive to a DVD for storage; (4) transfer your
dusty old videotapes and hame movies ta disc by
plugging yaur VCR into the thing; and (5) devote
more time than ever to sitting on your ass and watch-
ing TV. Yau can also record new videos right onto a
disc by connecting your camcorder directly to the
DVR-810H. Good luck figuring out haw ta navigate
the sleek-locking remote.

MANTRACK . | |. |

Holiday
Cheers

Silver bells, silver
bells.... You'll be
hearing them long
after Christmas in the
wake of a few silver
bell martinis (ей).
Shake twa aunces of
gin and а quarter
ounce af dry ver-
mouth with ice and
strain inta a chilled
martini glass, then
gornish with pearl
onions and (get this)
silver candy balls. Hey,
why not? It’s the holi-
days! Jessica Strand,
authar af Holiday
Cocktails (516;
Chronicle Books), is
pouring, and she's
brimming with ideas.
Yaur liver will adare
the New Year's Day
blaady mary punch,
a tangy vodka-and-
Clamato cancoction.
Bottoms up.

Clothesline:
Mark-Paul Gosselaar

One of the stars of ABC’s NYPD
Blue and an avid matacross
racer and pilot soys, “I live in
jeans and T-shirts. | own more
than 70 tees, and every ane
has the name of some company
ar product on it. Motocross
spansars, NYPD Blue, variaus
police squads and promotianal
events—t'm like a walking bill-
board. | get a lat of clothes
from Fox and Oakley, which
both make motocross gear. |
also lave getting dressed up ta
go to events because it makes
me appreciate the finer things

1 have suits by Prada, Armani
and Dries Van Naten. If yau
feel good in a suit, it shows,
and it gives you a certain confi-
dence. My big accessories are
shaes, especially anes by Prada
and Gucci, and watches. | have
а Breitling digital with three
time zones and a stapwatch. | wear it when I'm flying a
plane. | also have a Rolex. It hos a classic look. Oakley also
makes cool watches. Eventually | want ta awn a really high-
end watch. Maybe something by IWC or Corum.”

Stick Handling

There are all sarts af things yau can do on top of a pool
toble—yau know, yaga, praying, surgery, that kind of
stuff (not to mention tantric sex with а pair of Brazilian
twins). The sophisticated Manhattan (above) from
Brunswick Billiards will enhance your game, na matter
what it is. “The pockets are cancealed in the stainless-
steel legs ta eliminate visual distraction and reinfarce
the harizontal farm," says Dennis Foley, the designer.
An eight-foater gaes for $14,995; a nine-faater costs
$15,745. Thamas Newhouse created the Casmopalitan
(below) for the same campany, cambining cherry rails

with leather aprons. An eight-footer sells for $9,995.

The Perfect Time...

* To pay aff yaur credit card
bills: Right naw. Used ta be a
little credit card debt was a goad
way ta keep yaur ather bills paid.
But in the past few years, credit
card campanies have shortened
the groce periods far payment
and upped lote fees. In the past
уау had a month to pay the bill;
naw yau have as few as 21 days
befare you get whacked with a
fee, ond if you're late mare than
once a year the company can
jack up the interest rate. (Yikes!)
© Ta buy a new car: Late in the
Christmas shopping season and
in early January. This is the
slowest periad far car dealers
because buyers are either too
busy with the halidays or
financially tapped aut. Mean-
while, car dealers are facing
their year-end quatas. Late on
Saturday, salespeaple are eager

ta split for the weekend. That's
when they have less stamina
to jerk you around.

WHERE AND HOW TO BLY ON PAGE 29

Enjoy THE CHIVAS LIFE™ re
CHIVAS REGAL
2003 Imporie

“The evolution of
ILS. FED-

It's survival of the fastest. R: Racing Evolution thrusts you into
the intense competition and heated rivalries of high-velocity
professional racing. Adapt, or enjoy the exhaust.

Experience the handling of realistic, high performance physics. Master СТ, Rally, Drag and the premier racing circuits. Fine-tune real world licensed vehicles,

PlayStation.

Mild Language
Suggestive Themes

Шіге Playboy Advisor

How many women masturbate, how of-
ten do they do it, and how open are most
of them about it? I'm an 18-year-old fe-
male high school senior who will soon be
living in a dorm room with three women
I've never met. The problem is, I love to
masturbate. One afternoon after sex ed
class 1 came home and “found myself.”
"That was two years ago. I haven't gotten
into or out of bed since without mastur-
bating. And I'm not shy about it with my
close friends or family (I have 10 siblings
and share a room with three sisters). My
parents bought me my first vibrator after
my mom had shown me where she keeps
hers. I love toys, but some of my best or-
gasms have been with my fingers while
pulling on my nipples. My dad says to do
it only when I'm alone; my mom says to
be open with my roommates about it.
I'm not а screamer, but my sisters know 1
usually thrash around. What happens if
one of my roommates freaks and tries to
ruin me? Can you give me any stats to
show that this is normal?—].S., Los An-
geles, California

Throwing statistics around won't help.
Rest assured that most women masturbate,
although perhaps not as frequently or open-
ly as you. You're ahead of your time. This
isn't about masturbation as much as the
compromise required for any sort of group
living. To avoid friction you may need to
make minor adjustments to your routine,
such as holding your hands behind your
back until you get to the shower. But don't be
surprised if at least two of your roomies also
routinely masturbate and have their own
concerns about privacy. Why do we think
we'll see you on The Real World?

The woman I'm dating says I have to
choose between her and my subscription
to PLAYBOY. What should I tell herz—
J.R., Seattle, Washington

You're asking us, and on our birthday?
We'd say, “Buh-bye.” The next thing you
know she'll be setting the parental controls
on your cable box.

Га like to treat my husband to a blow job
that leaves a lipstick mark on his cock. 1
have found, in practice, that most rouges
don't adhere. Any suggestions?—D.B
Phoenix, Arizona

A heavy layer of Red Coromandel Chanel
once left a deep impression on us. How about
a game of lipstich dipstick, in which you try
repeatedly to extend your best mark? Eves
one wins when you leave a ring that louches
his belly and balls.

Ive heard that plasma TVs are vulner:
ble to “burn-in,” whereby a ghostly im-
age appears on the screen. Is that the
case? Га like to know before I shell out

Missouri
Burn-in occurs on plasma TVs when ап
image stays on the screen for many hours at
а lime. Common culprits are channel logos
or the black horizontal bars that appear on
the top and bottom of the screen when you
watch 4:3 aspect TV programming on a
16:9 aspect screen. But unless you're a CNN
or Pong addict, it’s doubtful you'll have a
problem —in newer sels, any burn-in is usu-
ally temporary. As a precaution, keep your
contrast control al 50 percent or less. It
might also help to go outside once in a while.

You recently said that breast-enlarge-

ment pills don't work. Well, what does

work?—T-H., New York, New York
Implants, weight gain and pregnancy.

Му wife and I are swingers. At one par-
ty I was finger-fucking this woman when
I found her G spot and made her come

hither” motion inside my wife. She says
it feels good initially but then hurts and
makes her feel like she has to pee. 1 have
never been able to give my wife an or-
gasm during intercourse, and she has
never had multiple orgasms. Gan you
help?—S.H., Houston, Texas

Most women can'l come through inter-
course alone, so your wife's lack of vaginal
orgasms is not unusual. It's also not unusu-
al that she feels discomfort when her front
vaginal wall is stimulated. Last year an lial-
ian scientist conducted anatomical studies
suggesting that some women either don't
have a G spot or have one so small that it
can't easily be located. Others have wondered
if it exists at all: A psychologist who reviewed
the medical literature concluded that, with-
out more definitive studies, the G spot will

ILLUSTRATION BY ISTVAN BANYAL

remain a “gynecologic UFO.” The idea of a
pleasure spot, he says, puts undue stress on
women who can't find theirs. Now we read
about the AFE zone, which is supposedly on
the back wall of the vagina, and the U spot,
а tiny area above the urethra and right be-
low the clitoris. Lewis and Clark had it easi-
er than this. There's only one way to find out
what turns your wife on: Use the A spot, lo-
cated just inside her ear. It's stimulated when
you ask her what feels best, Find her individ-
ual spots and give them names.

Ive been surfing chat rooms, looking for
a booty call. Is there a way to avoid all
the small talk without sounding like a
pervert?—T.W., New Orleans, Louisiana

Once you accept your essential perverted-
ness, you'll be more comfortable being blunt.
The FBI agents and guys pretending to be
women will appreciate your candor.

Is it okay to wear a black overcoat with a
navy or brown suit, or should I get camel
hair?—J.W., Boston, Massachusetts

You'd be better off with a dark gray or
vicuna coat thal you can wear with blue,
black, gray or some browns. Camel hair goes
with anything, but it’s dressy.

Ive been seeing this guy for a month.
He and his girlfriend of 12 years broke
up two months before we met. We have
spent almost every night together. The
sex is great and so is his personality, but
he doesn't seem to believe in foreplay. 1
love giving oral, but it's not much fun
when I know he won't reciprocate.
Maybe he doesn't like my cookie. I have
a large clit, and my lips aren't the cute
tucked-away kind. Or maybe he doesn't
like oral. I am a clean girl and have even
tried bathing right before the action
starts. Maybe his ex didn't like it and
that ruined him. How can I turn this
around? I told him I love to be eaten out
and that I'm more likely to come that
way, but no progress yet.—K.G., San
Bernardino, California

We hate to break this to you, but you've
caught this guy on the rebound—two months
after 12 years, the ball's still on the rim.
Some guys are reluctant to lick for any пит-
ber of lame reasons. But our guess—this will
be hard to confirm since your boyfriend prob-
ably won't admit it, because to do so would
threaten the low-obligation sex that’s cur-
rently soothing his psychic pain—is that he
finds going down on you too intimate.

White at the beach my sister-in-law and
I were talking after she had come out of
the cold surf. 1 noticed that her nipple
was exposed. She left to get a soda, then
marched back and asked why 1 hadn't.
told her about her nipple. 1 hemmed

PLAYBOY

and hawed and finally said, "I hoped it
would slip back on its own,” Later, after
a few drinks, we all had a good laugh
about it. But what should I say next time
it happens? With her breasts I'm sure it
will.—D.T., Miami, Florida

Do they call you Mr. Smooth? No need to
be coy. If her nipple escapes again, tell her to
watch her top.

Should you start cutting the foil опа
wine boitle from the bottom or the
top?—G.K., Oakland, California

From the top.

Му boss will let me blow and titty-fuck
him but won't have intercourse with me.
Не says if he makes love to me he'll be
cheating on his wife. What do you
think?— B.T., Chicago, Illinois

We think people can justify anything. We
don't condone affairs, but if you're going to
be involved, at least insist on getting laid.
You have a lot of power in this situation—
you realize that, right?

Would it be smart to ask your girlfriend
to let you date her and another girl at the
same time?—].E, Redding, California

Brave? Yes. Smart? No. If you can get
them interested in each other, you may have
something.

| have а 1981 calendar. Several years ago
the days and dates matched 1981 exactly.
When will this happen again? Did I
mention that it's a Bo Derek calendar? —
J-W., Peoria, Arizona

Bo's comet returns in 2009, 2015, 2026,
2037, 2043, 2054, 2065, 2071, 2082,
2093 and 2099, when you can vrite us
again for the next century. This is why we
don't put years on Centerjolds—Miss Janu-
ary looks great no matter which January you
open the magazine.

Let's say I collect my semen and freeze
it. If my girlfriend inserts the frozen
cube into her vagina, could she get preg-
nant?—].H., Montgomery, Alabama

Are you being deployed? It's more likely
you'll forget about the thing and get a sur-
prise in your next drink, To preserve sperm,
banks freeze it in liquid nitrogen at 196 de-
grees below zero.

| met a рін who's a friend of a friend. I
know her name, so I looked up her
number in the campus directory. 15 it
okay to call? It’s one thing to know a
girl's number and another for her to
give it to you. 1 don't want to creep her
cut—M.E, Potsdam, New York

There's nothing wrong with getting her
number from the phone book—it's only
creepy if you dial random numbers.

Why is everything from horse races to
Nascar events run counterclockwise?—
R.W., Missoula, Montana

The leading hypotheses seem to be that (1)
carly Americans wanted to distance them-

selves from Europe, where most races are run
clockwise, or (2) it reflects an unconscious
desire to turn back the clock. We often wish
that could happen at the track.

A woman from Chicago asked in Octo-
ber about strip clubs that have both male
and female dancers. 1 can't believe you
didn't suggest the Sugar Shack in Lake
Geneva, Wisconsin. Perhaps you should
do some research next time before send-
ing people to Myrtle Beach or fucking
Oregon.—S.S., Aurora, Illinois

Research at strip clubs? Are you joking?
We're especially chagrined about the over-
sight because the oumer of the Sugar Shack,
Dana Montana, was one of the first Bunnies
at the Chicago Playboy Glub. Dana, forgive
us. Another reader suggested the Olympic
Gardens in. Las Vegas, which has the danc-
ing men upstairs and the women downstairs.

А reader asked in September, "Do wom-
en enjoy giving oral sex?" You replied,
"Most women like the reaction they get."
Personally, 1 love the way my husband's
cock feels in my mouth. I love the silki-
ness of his skin, the smell of his body, his
hair tickling my face. I like how his cock
responds to what I'm doing. I like how
his breathing quickens. 1 like looking up
to watch him watching me. I like it when
he grabs my hair to pull me away before
he loses control. And I love the way he
moans when I begin sucking deep and
fast and he can't stop me in time and he
comes and I smile and say, "Whoops."
After writing this letter, 1 can't wait for
him to get home.—S.O., Odessa, Texas
As we uere saying....

Most women may like the moans they
get during blow jobs, but I enjoy the or-
gasms | have. That's why my boyfriend
can't walk by naked without my mouth
popping open like a baby bird. I also cli-
max when I do sit-ups. My girlfriends
can't understand how this is possible. My
explanation is that I'm clenching the
same muscles that throb during orgasm.
If that’s the case, can this anomaly be
taught? —D.L., Portland, Oregon

Unfortunately, no. You have a gift. But
after reading your letter, many women who
have never attempted a sit-up may be in for
a pleasant surprise.

Why do the latex condoms I use with
my girlfriend always break? I once went
through four condoms in an hour. We've
tried larger ones, but they haven't
helped.—K.N., Longwood, Florida

Once you've rolled the condom over your
erection, gently squeeze some space at the lip.
Pulling the condom too tight over the head is
a common cause of breakage. Friction is an-
other, which is why you should always have a
supply of lube.

Some co-workers noticed that my arms
are shaved. They asked if I shave other
parts of my bedy. When I told them I

shave everything, they decided that I
must be gay. I'm not gay, just hairy. 1
even tweeze my eyebrows. My girlfriend
says she loves my hairless body. So why
do my co-workers have such a problem
with i? —C.B., Clarksville, Tennessee
Because they're hairy and they aren't get-
ting laid. You must be slippery in the shower:

Анет breaking off my engagement of
two years, I asked my ex-fiancée nicely,
and then rudely, to return the ring. But
maybe it’s a small price to pay for my
happiness. What do you think?—W.W.,
Jersey City, New Jersey

Since you broke it off, the ring is hers to
pawn. We're surprised you had to ask.

Soon after 1 started seeing my most re-
cent ex-girlfriend, she asked me to wear
her panties when we went out. She made
it worth my while: The sex that night
was fantastic. She said that as long as I
wore her panties on dates, I could ex-
pect more of the same. We broke up af-
ter six months, but now just the thought
of wearing panties gets me hard. Before
going out with my new girlfriend I wear
a pair for a few hours to get revved up.
My girlfriend says I'm the most ener-
getic lover she's ever had. Should I re-
veal my secret?—J.T., Phoenix, Arizona

Tell her what you've told us. You can
predict better than ше can how she'll react,
but given the type of women you date, we
wouldn't be surprised if she finds it amusing.
She may also have some demands of her own.
What's your bra size?

1 agree with all the grilling tips you of-
fered in October, but a few others are
worthy of mention: (1) If the grill doesn't
have a temperature gauge, invest in one.
A closed grill on high will quickly exceed
500 degrees. Nothing should be cooked
at that temperature except pottery. (2)
Get a digital thermometer. Most cost less
than $20. Beef, with the exception of
ground beef, is medium rare at an inter-
nal temperature of 135 degrees and
medium at 150. Poultry should always
be cooked to an internal temperature of
at least 180 degrees. A good cookbook or
your butcher can provide a chart. (3) Get.
the best cut you can. Talk to the butcher;
а few will still cut prime if you ask. It’s
more expensive but worth it.—J.S.
Newport Beach, California
Thanks for writing. Is it summer yel?

All reasonable questions—from fashion, food
and drink, stereo and sports cars to dating
dilemmas, taste and etiquette—will be person-
ally answered if the writer includes a self-
addressed, stamped envelope. The most inter-
esting, pertinent questions will be presented in
these pages each month. Write the Playboy Ad-
visor, PLAYBOY, 680 North Lake Shore Drive,
Chicago, Illinois 60611, or send e-mail by
visiting our website at playboyadvisorcom.

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Check out the rest of the family or find your nearest retailer at zippo.com. Zippo

Join us on the Playboy 50th Anniversary Club Tour as we salute a fellow American icon.

THE PLAYBOY FORUM

his past summer the U.S.

Supreme Court overturned

a Texas law that banned gay

sex. Activists hailed the rul-
ing as a triumph for gay rights. We
greeted it as the final victory of the
sexual revolution. Besides the practi-
cal aspects of the decision, which
overturned sodomy laws in 13 states
(nine of which banned oral and anal
sex for straights as well as gays), it val-
idated a core belief of this magazine:
that sex between two or more con-
senting adults is a basic human right
and no business of the state.

It wasn't always so. At the time
Hugh Hefner began writing the
Playboy Philosophy in the early
1960s, 49 states criminalized
oral and anal sex (the exception
was Illinois, which had repealed
its law in 1961). Ten states pun-
ished sodomy with a maximum
sentence of 20 years. In Con-
necticut oral sex could get you
30 years. In North Carolina it
was 60. In Nevada, life. In addi-
tion, 37 states outlawed sex out-
side marriage, 15 banned living
together, 45 criminalized adul-
tery, and two had laws against
heavy petting. The U.S. Naval
Academy felt it necessary to re-
ject candidates who exhibited
unspecified “signs of masturbation.”
Federal law prohibited the creation,
distribution or viewing of porno-
graphic or sometimes merely titillat-
ing movies. Every state banned ex-
plicit novels such as D.H. Lawrence's
Lady Chatterleys Lover and Henry
Miller's Tropic of Cancer.

‘To many people, those were the
good old days.

The Playboy Forum found a way to
personalize these abstract laws. In
1965 we published a letter under the
heading “A ‘Sex Offender’ Speaks”:

“I am an inmate in the West Vir-
ginia maximum security prison at
Moundsville, serving a one- to 10-
year sentence for submitting to a
crime against nature (heterosexual
fellatio—no force involved)."

The writer, Donn Caldwell, a popu-
lar radio and TV personality, had frol-
icked with a fan, The girl and her par-

By JAMES R. PETERSEN

ents declined to press charges, but the
prosecutor threatened the teenager
with reform school for juvenile delin-
quency and committing immoral acts.
He jailed her for 37 days, until she
signed a statement. A judge gave
Caldwell the maximum, remarking
that he considered oral sex to be as
serious a crime as murder.

The reaction of our readers was
astonishing—letters of support for
Caldwell flowed in for months. In re-
sponse to this and a similar case,
Hefner created the Playboy Foun-
dation—the action arm of the Philos-

ophy—and fought successfully for
Caldwell's release.

Caldwell's case inspired readers to
become our eyes and ears in the sex-
ual revolution. We heard about cou-
ples arrested after sending explicit
letters to postal inspectors posing as
swingers, a Los Angeles bar owner
harassed by police as a "fruit lover"
because he served gay men, an FBI
clerk fired for having a girlfriend in
his apartment overnight and numer-
ous other citizens prosecuted for vic-
timless sex offenses.

In 1967 the foundation funded the
legal defense of a reader and his girl-
friend who had been accused by her
parents of fornication. Her father
summarized his tough-love stance
with the remark, "I'd rather see her
in jail than debauched.”

The following year the foundation
took the case of Charles Cotner, an

Indiana man serving a two- to 14-
year sentence for having consensual
anal sex with his wife, who'd reported
him to authorities after a spat. She
later asked to drop the charges, but
the judge persisted on behalf of the
outraged citizens of Indiana. Our le-
gal team won the man’s release,

In 1973 the magazine aided a wom-
an who had been convicted of oral
copulation for her role in a stag film.

Slowly, progress was made. By
1980 a map of states that still crimi-
nalized sodomy revealed the boun-
daries of a sexual civil war—with the

Bible Belt and fundamentalist
frontiers such as Idaho and
Utah holding out.

The revolution could have
ended in 1986, when the state of
Georgia asked the Supreme
Court to uphold its law against
gay sex. The court obliged, rul-
ing that the Constitution did not
confer a “right of homosexual
sodomy,” that the fear and
loathing of those abominable
crimes against nature had an-
cient roots and that it was within
the rights of the states to legis-
late morality, i.e. prejudice.

It took 17 years for the court

3 to come to its senses. In a 6-3
vote last June, it overturned a
‘Texas law that banned “deviate sexu-
al intercourse" between people of the
same gender. Writing for the major-
ity, Justice Anthony Kennedy noted
that “liberty presumes an autonomy
of self that includes freedom of
thought, belief, expression and cer-
tain intimate conduct.” Of the two
Houston men who had been engaged
in anal sex in one man’s apartment
when interrupted by police officers,
he was more specific: “The state can-
not demean their existence or control
their destiny by making their private
sexual conduct a crime.”

Huffing like an Old Testament
prophet, Justice Antonin Scalia
warned in his dissent that the court
had unleashed “a massive disruption
of the social order.”

That disruption began 50 years
ago, Justice Scalia. Haven't you been
paying attention?

MARIJUANA
REFORM

When we began: When
the Forum first appeared
in 1963, PLAYBOY lived in
а world of jazz, late-night clubs and
edgy comedians. We saw firsthand the
effect of drugs—and of drug laws. The
feds had regulated weed since 1937; in
1970 Congress dedared it to be as dan-
gerous as heroin. Readers wrote often
with stories of outrageous sentences,
such asa married couple in Ohio given
20- to 40-year sentences for sharing $5
worth of pot with a neighbor, and the
Dallas man who received life for selling
11 joints. The Forum proposed that all
penalties for personal possession be
eliminated or at least reduced to fines.
Behind the scenes: In 1970 the Playboy
Foundation gave aseed grant of $7,500
to attorney Keith
Stroup to establish
the National Orga-
nization for the Re-
form of Marijuana
Laws. We eventu-
ally provided the
group with more
than $500,000.
Where we stand: Although the feder-
al government disapproves, millions of
Americans have voted to allow the
medical use of marijuana in their
states. Because of the efforts of Norml
and other groups, we believe the per-
sonal use of marijuana for relaxation
ог medical purposes will be legal with-
in a decade. In the meantime, more
than 646,000 people are arrested each
year in the U.S. for simple possession.

EQUAL RIGHTS

When we began: In 1962 Helen Gurley
Brown published Sex and the Single Girl.
In 1963 Betty Friedan published The
Feminine Mystique. Both books would
have a lasting influence on how women
view themselves and their place in soci-
ety. For our part, we thought we knew
the enemy: Religion was responsible for
women’s second-class status. Ditto for
the cult of virginity, the notion of purity
and the idea that a woman's place is in
the home. In 1970 we wrote, "We reject
the Victorian double standard, which
applauds sexual ex-
perience in men and
condemns it in wom-
en." We supported
the women's move-
ment because we
knew that if we want-
ed an equal partner
in bed, she needed to
be equal everywhere

else as well. Our support for individual
rights has never been biased by gender.

Behind the scenes: The Playboy
Foundation formed an early alliance
with mainstream feminists to fight for
reproductive rights and the Equal
Rights Amendment. In 1978 a benefit
at the Playboy Mansion raised $25,000
for the National Organization for Wo-
men's ERA Strike Force.

Where we stand: Our position has not
changed. Sadly, the feminist movement
was hijacked during the 1080s by a
fringe element that felt pornography,
not the pious, subjugated women. This
led to a remarkable alliance between
feminists and the Christian right that
culminated in the Meese Commission
report on obscenity.

BIRTH CONTROL

When we began: Seventeen states al-
lowed the sale or distribution of contra-
ceptives only through doctors or phar-
macists; five states banned their sale
outright. In 1965 the Supreme Court.
overturned a Connecticut law that
made it illegal to provide birth control
information, even to married couples.
In 1967 we gave the first of nu-
merous grants to William Baird,
an activist who defied sex laws
forbidding "crimes against chas-
tity" by giving contraceptives
to single women. His case
went before the Supreme
Court and resulted in a
decision that extended the
right of reproductive pri-
vacy to include married
and single citizens alike.
In 1968 we shared details of a birth
control pill that Yale researchers said
could prevent pregnancy if taken for
four or five days after unprotected sex.
Behind the scenes: Besides funding
legal battles, the Foundation gave
money for research on IUDs, helped
establish the first vasectomy clinic in
the U.S. and provided early backing to
develop a male contraceptive pill.
Where we stand:
Condoms are avail-
able in every drug-
store and in many
schools. Women can
purchase prescription
patches for the ab-
domen, butt or up-
per arm. In 1998 the
FDA approved the

ZONE

William Baird.

first of two morning-after
pills, which may soon be
available over the counter.
Meanwhile the religious
right spreads misinforma-
tion, insisting that “Just say
no” is the only message teens should get
about sex. (One study of 85 students
who had taken chas-
tity vows found that
61 percent didn't
keep them for even
a year. Many of the
teens who take vows
say they do not keep
condoms handy be-
cause they fee!
would weaken th:
resolve.) We're still
waiting for a male
pill; at least 53 can-
didates have come
and gone. There is hope that a male
patch will arrive within a decade.

EUN CONTROL

When we began: PLAYBOY tried to dis-
tinguish itself from the men's maga-
zines of the 1950s that showed hunt-
ers thrashing around in the bush.
Instead we devoted the magazine to
indoor sports. In 1963 few states had
gun control laws. The Gun Control
Act of 1968 prohibited felons, fugi-
tives, drug addicts, minors, the men-

tally ill and undocumented aliens,
among others, from owning guns.
It also banned mail-order sales,
mandated that all guns have serial
numbers and required dealers to
keep records of every sale for
review by federal agents. At the
time we wrote, “We don’t think
proposals for firearms control
and registration are any more

car. To say that crime prevention ef-
forts should be directed not at the
weapon but at the criminal who wields
it overlooks the fact that the gun is the
most effective all-around tool ever de-
vised for individual killing.”

Behind the scenes: The Foundation
gave a grant in 1976 to the National
Council to Control Handguns (later
Handgun Control, Inc.), the chief
nemesis of the National Rifle Associa-
tion. In 1981, following the murder of
John Lennon and the attempted assas-
Sination of President Reagan, the mag-
azine published a public service ad for
the group that cited the number of
homicides in various countries (the U.S.
topped the list with 10,728, and the next
closest country, Japan, had 48) above
the slogan STOP HANDGUNS BEFORE THEY

stor you. Outraged read-
ers asked how we could
defend the First Amend-
ment so fervently yet
“abandon” the Second.

Where we stand: We con-
tinue to support reason-
able gun control. Unlike a
bullet, words going in one
ear and out the other have
never killed anyone. In
1993 Congress began re-
quiring that licensed deal-
ers do background checks on potential
customers. In 1994 it banned 19 types
of assault weapons. Handgun Control,
now the Brady Campaign to Prevent
Gun Violence, is currently pushing a
Jaw that would limit handgun purchas-
es to one per person per month.

CIVIL RIGHTS/JUSTICE

When we began: While examining ar-
cane sex laws we found that racial pre-
judice appeared to be a major factor in
their enforcement—small-town police
chiefs seemed to enjoy harassing
interracial couples with charges of
fornication, cohabitation and misce-
genation. That led to a discussion of in-
equities in the prosecution of serious
crimes. In 1968 we noted that in states
that executed rapists, the application
of the death penalty was determined
almost exclusively by the race of the
perpetrator (black) and the race of the
victim (white). In Florida 45 of 84
black rapists had been sentenced to
die, compared with six of 125 whites.
The state at that point had executed
one of the white
rapists and 29 of
the black ones.
Behind the
scenes: In the
mid-1960s the
Foundation gave
the first of many.
grants to the
NAACP Legal
Defense and Ed-
ucation Fund to
aid in the mo-
nitoring of capital punishment. In
1975 the Forum launched the Playboy
Casebook, conceived as a court of last.
resort. The Ordeal of Larry Hicks de-
scribed what happens when a black
defendant who has no money, family
or knowledge of the legal system is
poorly represented. Two weeks before
he was scheduled to die for his alleged
role in a double murder, Hicks found
a lawyer who would listen. With the
financial support of the Foundation,
he won a new trial. The second jury
acquitted Hicks, and he was freed.

Larry Hicks.

Where we stand: The
system remains racist.
One study found that,
other factors being equal,
the odds of a death sen-
tence being handed down
are four times higher if
the accused is black. Pros-
ecutors are reluctant to
admit bias. That some of
these convicts may be the
victims of racism or inept
counsel is not a huge con-
cern for the state. In Illinois alone, 17
of 298 condemned men—12 of them
black—have been exonerated but only
through the efforts of college journal-
ism students and groups such as the
Innocence Project. That's a 5.7 per-
cent error rate. How many more in-
nocent people have died?

SEX EDUCATION

When we began: We decided early on to

manuals (including the homophobic
and silly Everything You Always Wanted to
Know About Sex But Were Afraid to Ask) to
the shredder and mocked claims by
such champions of morality as Charles
Keating. We also demanded that every
person, regardless of age,
have access to accurate
and timely information
about his or her sexuality.
Behind the scenes: In
1967 the Foundation
provided the first of
many grants to the Sex
Information and Educa-
tion Council of the Unit-
ed States. Over the next
few years we gave more
than $300,000 to help
sex researchers William
Masters and Virginia Johnson train
health care professionals. The Founda-
tion made its first grant to sponsor
AIDS education and research in 1982.
We helped fund the Kinsey Institute
and Planned Parenthood. More re-
cently the magazine has played an ac-
tive role in the legal battle to keep the
Internet, an important source of se:
al information, free of censorship.
cluding making a grant of
$250,000 to the ACLU for
First Amendment cases.
Where we stand: 1Us safe to
say that most kids know more
about sex than their parents
did at the same age, But
adults who confuse igno-
rance and innocence
still have considerable
clout. In 2003 Con-

gress sent $117 million to public
schools that agreed to forgo compre-
hensive sex ed for abstinence-only
moralizing.

ABORTION

When we began: In 1963 every state
prohibited abortion. Readers deluged
the Forum with stories of illegal opera-
tions gone awry. Depending on whom
you asked, between 500 (the most
probable figure)
and 5,000 women
died each year
from botched abor-
tions. Both sides
weighed in. One
reader noted the
shame felt by many
women who had
undergone the pro-
cedure. In 1965
PLAYBOY became
the first major na-
tional magazine to
call for legalized abortion. We later
took a radical step for the time; We
published phone numbers that direct-
ed women to safe providers.

Behind the scenes: Beginning in 1966
the Playboy Foundation gave grants to
groups such as the Association for
the Study of Abortion,
a clearinghouse for
activists. In 1971 we
helped defend Shirley
Wheeler, convicted of.
manslaughter for having
had an abortion. We
gave money to Cyril
Means, a law professor
who wrote legal briefs
for cases in Georgia and
Texas. His arguments
made their way to the
Supreme Court, which
in 1973 ruled in Roe v. Wade that the
right to privacy includes a woman's
right to decide whether to bear a child.

Where we stand: Abortion is legal in
every state, but it's still contested, often
through harassment and violence. In a
recent survey, 18 percent of abortion
clinics reported being vandalized, and
15 percent had received bomb threats
Justice Antonin Scalia has said that the
court's lack of respect for past decisions (as
evidenced in Lawrence y. Texas, discussed
on page 65) could work against pre-
serving Roe v. Wade. Meanwhile the abor-
tion rate has reached its lowest level since
1974, with much of the decline attrib-
uted to increased use of contraceptives.
But lack of access may also play a role:
One third of U.S. women live in coun-
ties, including 86 of the 276 largest urban
areas, that have no abortion providers.

ce L

24
i

In December 1962 PLAYBOY published an
editorial by its editor and publisher, Hugh
Hefner, that answered critics of the maga-
zine while explaining its fundamental be-
liefs. Buoyed by the response, Hefner wrote a
second editorial and then a third. He quoted
judges and Jefferson, ministers and Menck-
en. He dissected a kooky 1879 sex guide
written by Dr. John Harvey Kellogg of cereal
fame, then praised the more contem-
porary insights of Dr. Alfred Kinsey
Eventually the series stretched № 25
installments, including four round-
table discussions with members of the
«етеу. The letters from readers became
so voluminous we created the Playboy
Forum in July 1963 to print them all.
We thought our 50th would be a
good time to revisit the principles under
which the magazine was founded and
continues to operate. We gleaned these
pearls of wisdom from the originals.
Want more? The first 18 editorials are
posted at playboy.com/philosophy.

ON INDIVIDUAL RIGHTS
The Playboy Philosophy is predicat-
ed on our belief in the importance
of the individual and his rights as
a member of a free society. That's
the starting point from which
everything else evolves.

We hold that man's personal
self-interest is natural and good
and that it can be channeled,
through reason, to the benefit of
the individual and his society. We
believe that morality should be based
upon reason. We are convinced that so-
ciety should exist as man’s servant, not
as his master.

We believe in a society based upon
reason. A man should use his intellect to
create an ever more perfect, productive,
comfortable, fulfilling, happy, healthy
and rational society.

Society benefits as much from the
differences among men as from their
similarities. We should create a culture
that not only accepts these differences
but respects and nurtures them

Our American democracy is based
not simply on the will of the majority

but on the protection of the will of the
minority. And the smallest minority in
society is the individual.

ON OBSCENITY
If the human body—far and away the
most remarkable, the most compli-
cated, the most perfect and the most
beautiful creation on this carth—can

become objectionable, obscene or ab-
horrent when purposely posed and
photographed to capture that remark-
able perfection and beauty, then the
worldis a far morc cockeyed place than
we are willing to admit.

‘The charge of obscenity is sometimes
used as a cover for other things to
which the censor objects: Political, phil-
osophical, social, medical, religious and
racial ideas have all been damned for
being “obscene.”

It has long seemed quite incredi-
ble—indeed, incomprehensible—to us
that detailed descriptions of murder,
which is a crime, are acceptable in our
art and literature, while detailed de-

scriptions of sex, which is not a crime,
are prohibited. It is if our society
puts hate above love and favors death
over life,

The U.S, Supreme Court's definition
of obscenity makes reference to “con-
temporary community standards.”
"Thus, the obscenity of yesterday is not
necessarily the obscenity of today,
and the obscenity of today need
not be the obscenity of tomorrow.
Community standards never re-
main static but offer ever-chang-
ing criteria for judgment. It is the
subjective nature of obscenity that
disturbed great men like Justice
Hugo Black, who felt that the
freedoms guaranteed by the Con-
stitution should be absolutes—a
solid, unshakable foundation on
which democracy is built.

ON CENSORSHIP

The attitude that some ideas are
best kept from the citizenry ad-
vances a concept of totalitarian
paternalism that is contrary to the
most basic ideals of our free soci-
ety. It is akin to the colonialist
concept that a new nation may
not yet be ready to rule itself. The
only way in which the people of a
country can ever become mature
enough for self-rule is by being
free to practice self-rule. Similarly,
the only way in which a society
can mature sexually, socially and
philosophically is by allowing it natu-
rally free and unfettered sexual, social
and philosophical growth. By treating
our own citizens like so many overpro-
tected children, we have produced our
present social order, which is too often
childlike, immature and hypocritical.

‘The irony of censorship is that if we
were to permit a completely unrestrict-
ed, censor-free society, none of the oft-
expressed forebodings of social doom
and moral degradation and disintegra-
tion would be realized. A few people's
sensitivities might be shaken, but that
would be about the extent of it. A soci-
ety freed of all social and sexual cen-
sorship and the more irrational forms
of sexual suppression would surely be

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a healthier and happier place—a world
in which sex would find its natural po-
sition in the scheme of things and cease
to be the source of guilt, shame and
heartache.

Since the beginning of recorded his-
tory there have been individuals deter-
mined to force their own standards
upon their fellow man. And time in-
evitably proves that the “dangerous”
work of art or literature of one genera-
tion is the classic of the next—that any
contemporary condemnation of the
spoken or the written word appears
ridiculous to succeeding generations.

ON REPRESSION

The modern psychiatrist knows, and
will gladly tell anyone who cares to lis-
ten, that books and pictures and pam-
phlets and papers that deal openly and
honestly with sex have little or no effect
upon human behavior and that what-
ever effect they do have is healthful,
rather than injurious, to society.

Never mind that the science of psy-
chiatry has revealed that it is the re-
pression of the sex instinct and the as-
sociation of sex with guilt and shame
that cause the hurt to humankind—
producing frigidity, impotence, maso-
chism, sadism and all manner of sexual
perversions, social and psychological
ills, neuroses and psychoses.

Never mind that all of history docu-
ments the utter impossibility of curbing
the sex drive, of keeping the male and
female free from this sin of the flesh.

Never mind that modern research
into sex behavior has revealed that
America's puritanical attempts at sexu-
al suppression have failed to halt or se-
riously hinder the “immoral” conduct
of the majority of our adult population.

Never mind that any effort to regu-
late or control the private sexual moral-
ity of the adult citizens of the United
States is contrary to the principle of in-
dividual freedom that is the very foun-
dation of our democracy and is in con-
flict with the most basic guarantees of
the Constitution and Bill of Rights.

Never mind—for such arguments
are based on reason, And there is noth-
ing reasoned or rational about our soci-
ety's attitude toward sex. It is based in-
stead on an irrational conglomeration
of prejudice, superstition, fear, faith,
mysticism and malarkey.

ОМ CASUAL SEX
Since one of the things PLAYBOY is espe-
ћу concerned about is the deperson-
alizing influence of our society, and
since considerable editorial attention is
given to the problem of establishing in-

dividual identity through sex and as
many other avenues of expression as
may be available in a more permissive
society, it is wrong to suggest that we fa-
vor depersonalized sex.

If we recognize sex as not necessarily
limited to procreation, then we should
acknowledge that it is not necessarily
limited to love, either. Sex exists with
and without love, and in both forms it
does far more good than harm. The at-
tempts at its suppression, however, are
almost universally harmful, both to the
individual involved and to society.

We are opposed to wholly selfish sex,
but we are opposed to any relationship
that is entirely self-oriented—that takes
all and gives nothing in return.

Only by remaining open and vulner-
able can a person experience the full joy

“As much as religion
has done for the
development and
growth of society,
sex has done

more.” —Hugh
Hefner, July 1963

and satisfaction of human existence.
‘That he must also, thereby, know some
of the sorrow and pain of this world is
without question, but that too is a part.
of the adventure of living.

ОМ HOMOSEXUALITY

Far too many members of our adult
population have engaged in some form
of homosexual activity at some time in
their lives to permit such activity to be
scientifically defined as abnormal. We
confess to a strong personal prejudice
in favor of the boy-girl variety of sex,
f in a free, rational and
ty demands tolerance for
those whose sexual inclinations are dif-
ferent from our own, so long as partic-
ipation is limited to consenting adults
in private and does not involve cither
minors or the use of any coercion.

Most analysts, psychiatrists and psy-
chologists consider the confirmed ho-
mosexual emotionally disturbed, and

the majority of those with whom they
come in contact undoubtedly are. Апа-
lyst Ernest van den Haag was once told
by acolleague, “All my homosexual pa-
tients, you know, are sick.” “Ah, yes,”
replied Dr. Van den Haag, “but so are
all my heterosexual patients.”

ON RELIGIOUS TRUTH

We believe in the existence of absolute
truth—not in the mystical or religious
sense but in the certainty that the true
nature of man and the universe is
knowable, and the conviction that the
acquisition of such truth should be one
of the major goals of mankind. We
think it is natural that man be awed by
the marvel and magnitude of the uni-
verse, and if this awe leads to rever-
ence, faith and worship, that too may
enhance his spiritual awareness and
sense of wonder.

We're applying 16th century religion
to a 20th century world; a more sophis-
ticated time requires a more sophisti-
cated faith. There's no logic in the be-
lief that man’s body, mind and soul are
in conflict rather than in harmony with
one another.

Religious leaders can attempt to per-
suade us of the correctness of their be-
liefs—they have this right, and indeed
it is expected of them. They have no
right, however, to attempt in any way
to force their beliefs on others. And
most especially, they have no right to
use the power of the government to
implement such coercion.

No conflict exists between the plea-
sure a modern American finds in mate-
rial things and his struggle to discover
a scientific truth, evolve a philosophy
or create a work of art. The good life
encompasses all of these—and all of
them satisfy and spur a man on to do
more, see more, know more, experi-
ence more, accomplish more.

Ifa man has a right to find God іп
his own way, he has a right to go to the
devil in his own way also. It sometimes
happens that the man most other men
would agree is surely going to the dev-
il has instead discovered a new truth
that is leading him away from estab-
lished thought and tradition to a better
way. In time these other men will un-
derstand and follow.

‘The Bible singles out the meek and
the poor in spirit for special blessings.
We'd like to add one of our own:
Blessed is the rebel, for without him
there would be no progress

N E W

S F R

O N T

What's happening in the sexual and social arenas

WINDSOR, ONTARIO—The owner of a
chain of strip clubs has offered to re-
imburse college students $1,500 to
$2,000 per year for tuition if they

agree to perform three or four seven-
hour shifts each week. The students,
who will earn $10 an hour plus tips,
must maintain a B average. Twenty
college girls majoring in such fields as
massage, nursing and engineering
have hit the poles. “A girl who wants
to better herself makes for a higher-
level entertainer,” the owner said.
“They're happier young ladies."

BOSTON—A 17-year-old and his family
were pulled off a flight to Hawaii after
airport security found a note inside
his checked luggage. It read: "Fuck
you. Stay the fuck out of my bag, you
cocksucker, Have you found a fuck-
ing bomb yet? No, just clothes. Am I
right? Yeah, so fuck you.” Prosecutors
charged the teen with making a bomb
threat, which is a felony. “In today's
security environment, there’s no
room for joking,” said an official.

MOBILE, ALABAMA—The city fired a wa-
ter department employee for keeping
porn images on his work computer.
He claimed an intern had down-
loaded them. Authorities also found a

photo of the man's bare ass, helpfully
labeled BUTTSHOT. The man said the
image had been taken accidentally as
he changed clothes in his office. He
said he had noticed a digital camera
sitting on his desk and was pushing it
away when it went off. “I labeled the
photoand putit into a folder because
I wanted to talk to some of my friends
about deleting it,” he said. An appeals
board upheld the termination.

OAK CREEK, WISCONSIN—When а wom-
an caught her 14-year-old daughter
nude in bed with a 14-year-old boy,
the teens admitted they planned to
have sex with a minor—each other.
The mother called police, and the
boy and girl each pleaded guilty to
misdemeanor sexual assault. “Sex
between kids is not legal,” a prose-
cutor said. The boy's attorney ar-
gued that teenagers have a right to
privacy that includes deciding if and
when to have sex.

МАСА -

PLYMOUTH, MASSACHUSETTS—In 1999
an elementary school teacher found
that her car would not start. She
called her stepfather, who notified
AAA. Ninety minutes later a tow truck
arrived, but the driver said he was too
busy to take her to a garage. The
woman accepted a ride from a by-
stander, who then raped and mur-
dered her. Her family sued AAA and
the driver, alleging they had provid-
ed poor service. As evidence they cit-
ed brochures that stated: "One call to
AAA and your worries are over. In to-
day's world, relying on strangers has
become a scary (and sometimes dan-
gerous) thing to do." AAA said the
woman could have taken a taxi or had
a family member pick her up but
eventually settled out of court.

LLINOIS—If you're а cop,
you may want to avoid diners where
the cook is an ex-con. Four police of-
ficers learned that lesson the hard
way when the cook at a chicken joint
spiced their food with mouse shit and
loogies. After delivering the meals, he
told the four, "Enjoy your food." Co-

workers alerted the manager, but the
cops had already dug in. Several be-
came ill. The cook pleaded guilty to
aggravated battery, Even the prosecu-
tor said he was surprised by the sen-
tence: four years.

NEW YORK—Most women are not pro-
choice, according to a survey by the
Center for the Advancement of Wom-
en. It polled 1,000 women and found
that 51 percent would like to ban
abortion outright or limit it to cases of
Tape, incest or danger to the mother’s
life. Another 17 percent said that
abortion laws should be tougher, Faye
Wattleton, the former president of
Planned Parenthood who heads the
research center, called the findings
alarming.

MERIDEN, CONNECTICUT—A scientist at
the state forensics lab has created a
database of DNA samples from mari-
juana plants. By applying the same
DNA fingerprinting used on criminal
suspects, prosecutors hope to re-create
the supply line, including distant
growers who share cuttings from

potent plants. “It links everybody
together—the user, the distributor,
the grower,” said the scientist. "That's
the real intent of it, to show that it's
not just one guy with a little bag of
marijuana but a group of people.”

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PLAYBOY INTERVIEW: JACK NICHOLSON

A candid conversation with the epitome of cool about the secret benefits of
Viagra, why libido never dies and how being a rogue is just good marketing

In Something's Gotta Give, his 58th—yes,
58th—movie, Jack Nicholson falls wildly in
love and has ecstatic, passionate sex—not
with his luscious on-screen girlfriend, Aman-
da Peet, but with her mom. It's classic Nichol-
son, confounding expectations. It’s also very
sexy stuff, which says something extraordinary
about Nicholson, given that the actor is just
months away from his 67th birthday,

Few actors can match Nicholson's collec-
tion of awards, including 12 Oscar nomina-
tions and three statuettes; none can supplant
his place as an American icon. Sure, there
are other living legends—including peers
Redford, Eastwood, Connery, Pacino and
Hoffman—but not one has dominated movies
or the culture the way Nicholson has. He is
on the shori list of the greatest film actors of
all time. “He is a beloved American pres-
ence, a superb actor who even more crucial-
ly is a superb male sprite,” says critic Roger
Ebert. "The joke lurking beneath the surface
of most of his performances is that he gets
away with things because he knows how to,
wants to and has the nerve 10. His charac-
ters stand for freedom, anarchy, self-gratifi-
cation and bucking the system, and often
they also stand for generous friendship and a
hind of careworn nobility.”

Nicholson made his breakthrough movie,
Easy Rider, in 1969. Since then he has worked
with America’s best actors and directors, star-

"I once decided I would get over beiug self-
conscious about nudity, so 1 did an experi-
ment. I lived in my house as а nudist. Once I
decide to do something, 1 don't do it parti
ly, so I was nude no matter who came by.”

ring in some of the defining films of his era.
cuen a partial list is mind-boggling: Five
Easy Pieces, The Last Detail, Carnal Knowl-
edge, Chinatown, One Flew Over the Cuch-
00's Nest, The Shining, Reds, Batman, A Few
Good Men, The Postman Always Rings
Twice, Prizzi’s Honor, Terms of Endearment,
The Witches of Eastwick. Last year he earned
a Golden Globe for best actor for About
Schmidt and also starred with Adam Sandler
in Anger Management.

Nicholson's childhood was unusual. Born
and raised in Manasquan, New Jersey, he
was abandoned by his father and didn’t
learn until he was in his late 30s that the
woman he had thought was his sister was ac-
tually his mother. After high school Nichol-
son moved to Los Angeles, where he got a job
as an office boy at MGM. It led to his first
acting jobs, in low-budget movies directed
by Roger Corman. He wrote Corman's
The Trip and co-wrote Head, a bizarre fea-
ture starring the Monkees. Nicholson would
go on to direct three movies: Goin’ South,
now a cult classic; Drive, He Said; and the
ill-fated Chinatown sequel, The Tio Jakes.

Nicholson has always seemed larger than
life offscreen as well as on, serving as the
epitome of cool in a way few actors can man-
age. He's openly admitted to experimenting
with psychedelic drugs, and he's pushed the
limits of the sexual revolution. His longest

“Did I like being thought of as a rogue? Did
I encourage it? It’s better than being thought
of as a shit. There's another answer. It was
good for business. For a while I settled down,
and it was less good for my career.”

relationship was with Anjelica Huston, and
he’s dated Michelle Phillips, Rebecca Brous-
sard and, most recently, Lara Flynn Boyle.
His only marriage, to horror-film actress
Sandra Knight, lasted six years. He has four
children, 11 10 40 years old.

Contributing Editor David Sheff met Nich-
olson at his compound high above Beverly
Hills. In the actor's living room—surrounded
by Picassos, Magrittes and а Dali—Nichol-
son, with the trademark glint in his eye, the
wide Joker smile and those infinitely arched
eyebrows, was remarkably candid, possibly
revealing more of himself than in any previ-
ously published interview.

PLAYBOY: You once said, “The older 1 get,
the younger the women who are inter-
ested in me.” How do you explain that
phenomenon?

NICHOLSON: Apparently women arc less
sensible when they're young. But I don't
know if it's true anymore. I don't know
much in this area right now, to tell you
the honest truth.

PLAYBOY: Does that mean you're between
relationships?

NICHOLSON: “Between” implies that an-
other one is on the horizon. I would
hope so, but I don't know.

PLAYBOY: Are you actively looking? Would.
you like a new girlfriend?

PHOTOGRAPHY BY DAVID ROSE
“These have been troubled times in the area
of sexual expression. I rank ALDS right up
there with the atomic bomb as events that im-
pacted our culture for the worse. We were
moving to a freer society before AIDS

PLAYBOY

NICHOLSON: That would depend on
who she is, and at this point I can't
imagine who.

PLAYBOY: In your new movie, Something's
Gotta Give, your girlfriend is played by
Amanda Peet, but then you fall for her
mother, who is played by Diane Keaton.
We presume that in real life you would
choose the far younger Feet.
NICHOLSON: This may disappoint, but
the reality is I would be much more like-
ly to wind up with Miss Keaton than Miss
Peet. It's a clear call.

PLAYBOY: Does that suggest that these
days, contrary to your image, you are
more interested in women your own age?
NICHOLSON: It depends on the woman,
of course. I prefer to have a conversa-
tion. It's nice to understand
the references. In this case, I
happen to think Keaton is fan-
tastic—one of the most idio-
syncratic, interesting people I
know, But I have had a kind
of open affection for Diane
anyway, ever since I was with
her in Reds

PLAYBOY: The two of you have a
very steamy sex scene. Is it dif-
ferent doing sex scenes now
than when you were younger?
Are you more self-conscious
when you're asked to take off.
your clothes?

NICHOLSON: If you want to give
life to any situation, you just
have to give life to the situation.
It's never exactly comfortable.
PLAYBOY: Keaton is fully nude
in this movie, but the audi-
ence sees only a peek of your
backside through a hospital
gown. Would you do a full
nude scene?

NICHOLSON: In a less romantic
film I would have no problem
letting my tits and my gut and
everything else spill all over
the neighborhood. But that’s
it, and in this genre—romantic
comedy—I wouldn't even до |
that. You never see male |
frontal nudity, at least almost |

less. My daughter understandably didn't
like it. If I had an interview with you, 1
would have done it nude. I found it very
comfortable.

PLAYBOY: Did some visitors embrace it?
Did some join you?

NICHOLSON: Harry Dean Stanton loved
it. He couldn't wait to come over and
be nude.

PLAYBOY: Was the experiment a success?
"That is, did you become less self-con-
scious about your body?

NICHOLSON: It worked at the time, but it
didn't last. I think it's just a male thing,
but maybe it's just me.

PLAYBOY: Apparently you still often pre-
fer the buff, at least when you're by
yourself in the middle of the night. A

ways ex

didn't want to do a Romper Room movie
with people's things behind magazines;
that seemed to me to be more prurient.
PLAYBOY: The rating infuriated you. You
remarked, “If you suck a tit, it’s X. If you
cut it off, it's PG.
NICHOLSON: Which is true. The censors
were even crazier then. A couple couldn't.
sleep in a single bed. It was like shoot-
ing pool—one person had to have a foot
on the floor. We got in trouble because
you weren't supposed to hear the sound
of an orgasm. In England they wanted
me to cut one line from the movie: “I'm
coming." I refused, and the movie was
never shown in England. No one cared
that a character in the picture was nude
all the time.

PLAYBOY: Why was she nude?
NICHOLSON: For no purpose. I
was sick of the conyention
They would always ask about
nudity, and you would say, "It's
tasteful, integral to the story,
not prurient.” I was so fed up
with this that I just put a nude
woman in for no reason. She's
just there without clothes on.
For that томе 1 also wanted to
do a symphony of dicks—satiri-
cal, long-lensed, out-of-focus
shots of all these guys in the
shower. I thought it might have
been a good title sequence, but
the cameraman wouldn't shoot
it. Cameramen will shoot any-
thing, so this shocked me.
PLAYBOY: Are women generally
less self-conscious about disrob-
ing for the camera?
NICHOLSON: Not only for the
camera. Go to a group of ado-
lescents and say, “Let's all go
over here and get naked.” All
the girls toss off their clothes,
delighted. At least 90 percent.
But the same percentage of
men are appalled. Whether it's
the competitive penis thing or
castration fear or some other
phenomenon, it's there. Гуе
observed the difference over
the course of my life, and it has

never, whereas it’s common
for women. It's not just in movies. Men
are far more self-conscious. At least I am.
I'm just not going to do it. Way back, I
may have. I once decided I would get
over being self-conscious about nudity,
so I did an experiment. I decided to
wear nothing. I lived here in my house
as a nudist. It was summertime, so
warmth wasn't a problem. I did it for
three or so months in the 1960s. Once I
decide to do something, I don't do it
partially, so when I did this, I was nude
no matter who came by.

PLAYBOY: Who came by?

NICHOLSON: All kinds of people. Roger
Corman came by and didn’t like it much.
1 wasn't throwing my wang around or

80 anything, but it startled him noncthe-

newspaper in Omaha, where you lived
while filming About Schmidt, reported
that you were spotted walking around
nude in your rented house.

NICHOLSON: How did 1 know they were
outside looking in? This was Omaha! At
two in the morning! I’m walking down
to get my pie, and somebody's out there.
PLAYBOY: To get your pie?

NICHOLSON: Yeah.

PLAYBOY: Is that a typical routine—pie at
two in the morning?

NICHOLSON: Sure. Or it could be sherbet.
PLAYBOY: You said that male frontal nudi-
ty is a rarity, but you included some in
Drive, He Said, your directorial debut.
NICHOLSON: For which they gave me an
X rating, which we successfully fought. I

= nothing to.do with age.
PLAYBOY: Has your sex drive diminished
with age?

NICHOLSON: Let's just say that my libido
will always exceed my possibilities. As a
friend says, “One day ГЦ come over and
ask you how things are going and you'll
say, "The nerve is dead." Believe me, the
nerve is not dead.

PLAYBOY: But diminished?

NICHOLSON: I'm not sure if it’s that the
libido is diminished or that the criteria
behind your choices become narrower.
PLAYBOY: The criteria behind your choices?
NICHOLSON: I used to be able todo every-
thing. I could work all the time, never
stop, and have plenty of energy left over
for other things. That's no longer the
case. Getting older, I don’t go out as

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much as I used to. It’s not that I like the
music any more or any less. What got me
out there ain't getting me out there now.
I still like jazz, but I ain't going out to lis-
ten to it now.

PLAYBOY: Over the years, did you encour-
age your reputation as a
NICHOLSON: Rogue?

PLAYBOY: Vas it deserved?

NICHOLSON: I wasn't the king of it, but 1
was in the running. Did I encourage it?
Did I like being thought of as a rogue?
Sometimes, but there's another answer.
It was good for business

PLAYBOY: Why was it good for business?
NICHOLSON: It's better than being thought
of as a shit. On the other hand, 1 settled
down for a while when I was 25, and that
was less good for my career.

PLAYBOY: Kim Basinger, your Batman
co-star, said, "Jack's the most highly
sexed individual I've ever met." Guilty
as charged?

NICHOLSON: She's right, of course. [smiles
widely] 1 always thought I had а certain
charge going on in that department. I ney-
er felt it was attractive to flaunt it, though.
PLAYBOY: Meryl Streep once lambasted
you for flaunting it. Apparently you said
that you preferred dating women in
what you described as the "sweet spo
between 25 and 38, explaining that it's
"glandular and has to do with mindless-
ly continuing the species."

NICHOLSON: Yeah, Meryl made fun of
me. She loved ragging me about it. All I
was saying is that part of these external
attractions comes from something very
basic. Nature doesn't leave it to chance.
It's the most important thing we do. We
have these drives for a reason.

PLAYBOY: But what's the reason when
you're no longer impelled to procreate?
NICHOLSON: I think you're impelled until
you stop breathing, even though you
have less energy for it and won't go
through the same machinations. I'm not,
by some increment, as sexually active as
I was, and it doesn't have to do with a
decrease in my libido. It has to do with
the criteria to fulfill it. I can't go through
a lot of bullshit. Before, you could hurl
the kitchen sink at me and Га keep on
smiling until I got where I thought I
wanted to get.

PLAYBOY: In the new movie, before
having sex with Diane Keaton, you
ask her, “What about birth control?”
She says, "Menopause." Your reaction
is unexpected.

NICHOLSON: “Look who's the lucky guy.”
[smiles} 1 like to try and bring the sexual-
ity of middle life into movies, to have it
realistically portrayed.

PLAYBOY: Are you suggesting that
menopause, presumably along with
Viagra, opens up new possibilities for
Sex as we age?

NICHOLSON: I'm not sure if | am an ex-
pert on that, but I can tell you that I've
noticed another phenomenon related to
Viagra. These have been troubled times

SIX CRAZY PIECES

Crazy, crazier, craziest—a clinical look at Jack's most disturbed roles

6. Melvin Udall—As Good As It Gets
(1997) As the planet's most deranged ro-
mance novelist, Nicholson dodges cracks
in the sidewalk, never uses the same bar
of soap twice ond shoves his gay neigh-
bor's dog down the garbage chute.
Psycho-bite: "People who talk in meta-
phors oughta shampoo my crotch,”
Diagnosis: Obsessive-compulsive disor-
der with a side of antisocial acerbic wit.

5. Randle Patrick МеМогрћу—Опе
Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975)
This guy had to have c screw loose to stort
a мог with а psych nurse who could тор
him with electroshock therapy—or worse.
Psycho-bite: “The next woman who
takes me on is gonna light up like a pin-
ball machine and poy off in silver dollars!”
Diagnosis: Anti-cuthoritarianism and а
fixation with televised baseball.

4. Colonel Nathan В. Jessep—A Few
Good Men (1992) You want the truth?
The truth is that this spit-and-polish military
man looks like с power-mad loon from the
moment we first see him.

Psycho-bite: "What | want is for you to
stand there in your faggoty white uniform
and extend me some fucking courtesy.”
Diagnosis: Narcissism with—drop and
give me 20!—delusions of grandeur.

3. The Joker—Batman (1989) It's hard
to overact when playing a disfigured super-
villain...but Jack does it. His Joker is so
extreme, we want him to win, saving us
from Bat sequels with Val Kilmer.
Psycho-bite: “I've been dead once al-
ready; it’s very liberating. You might think
of if as...therapy.”

Diagnosis: Homicidol psychosis and the
fashion sense of a pimp.

2. Jack Torrance—The Shining (1980)
Who wouldn't get a bit squirrelly if cooped
up with his string-beon wife and oddball
kid in а deserted hotel all winter? Still,
when Jack starts knocking on doors with
ап ах, it's time for a Xanax.
Psycho-bite: "I'm not gonna hurl yo. I’m
just gonna bash your brains in. Ha-ha!”
Diagnosis: All work and no ploy makes
Jack а paranoid schizophrenic.

1. Daryl Van Horne—The Witches of
Eastwick (1987) As film's horniest little
devil, Jack spews gallons of cherry vomit,
then morphs into a huge representation
of evil incarnate. But not before he im-
pregnates Michelle Pfeiffer, Susan Saran-
don and Cher. Maybe he's not so crazy.
Psycho-bite: “I always like a little pussy
after lunch."

Diagnosi

Satan. —Stephen Rebello

PLAYBOY

in the area of sexual expression. I rank
the publicizing of AIDS right up there
with the atomic bomb as events that
impacted our culture for the worse. We
were moving toward a more feeling,
freer society until AIDS, which came
along and gave the right wing the chance
to reinstitute its idea that sex is negative.
Anybody who owned a bar in the 1970s
can tell you that was the end of the bar
business, period. It was a sign of society
reversing itself in terms of the enjoy-
ment of freer sex, because sex was equat-
ed with death.

PLAYBOY: There was always safe sex.
NICHOLSON: But safe sex became the
equivalent of “I won't kiss you" for a girl.
It became just another obstruction. Most
people who investigated this knew that
if you were not shooting up or getting
fucked in the heinic, you were as likely
to get AIDS as you were to have a safe
fall on your head while walking down
Wilshire Boulevard. But you could not
proselytize this view. The facts were al-
most useless. You couldn't give a woman
the facts and have her respond, "Oh, all
right." Viagra comes along, however,
and it is fantastic in another regard, and
not in the obvious way. Over the years I
have heard many people, after ending a
marriage or a relationship, say, “I would
never have left her if I could have said,
without fear of shattering her entire ex-
istence, ‘I just don't want sex anymore."
The relationship could have continued if
1 had been able to say, ‘Fuck someone
else if you want.’ Everything would have
been fine between us.” Instead, the dis-
interest in sex that can come along be-
comes so intense that it can dominate the
relationship. Viagra solves that. Once,
twice a month—and regardless of what
people tell you, that's enough—stimu-
late yourself with this pharmacological
soluuon, go out there and tear Mom up,
baby, and everything is fine. It could
save many relationships.
PLAYBOY: You once said that you were
cynical about love. How about now?
NICHOLSON: I don't think I've ever been
cynical about love, though we 1950s
guys had a hard time making that tran-
sition into the 1960s "I love ya, man."
We thought love was a more sacred
word. What can I say about love? In my
life I have had more of it than I ex-
pressed. There's no doubt about that.
One of the best definitions of it comes
from Bertrand Russell, who said, "There
is love, and everything else is staring
into the abyss." You feel better when
you're expressing love. I have often
heard people confess, "I'm hoping for
one more really big romantic experience
in my life.” We want that fecling. You
don't forget that exhilarated state. It's an
exalted state, though I'm not the guy
who should be saying this.

PLAYBOY: Why shouldn't you?
NICHOLSON: I don't really offer the full
catastrophe to a woman.

PLAYBOY: The full catastrophe?
NICHOLSON: Yeah, you know, the pack-
age, children, whatever. I certainly
haven't ceased looking for a mate in life,
but at the same time I'm not looking for
what many other people seem to be look-
ing for in that regard. Therefore, the
probabilities, knowing my criteria, prob-
ably aren't great. How do I meet her? I
can't have fun in a club where every-
body's 23. I can't do it anymore. When
something is over for me, it’s over. I can't
hang around a school yard too long after
I graduate. This is not a lament. It's just
that I recognize the probabilities. I'm
going to give the picture out there that
I'm just sitting around. I'm not, but you
revise what interests you throughout
your life. Now a lot of interhuman com-
munication is not about gender or sex.
It was once.

PLAYBOY: One gets the sense that
monogamy was always a problem for
you. Is that accurate?

NICHOLSON: For a while I've felt that it
wouldn't be as big a problem as it might.
have been 10, 15, 20 years ago. Divorce
doesn't appeal to me, though I'm a di-
vorced person.

"The censors were even crazier
then. A couple couldn't even
sleep in a single bed. We got
in trouble because you
weren't supposed to hear the
sound of an orgasm."

PLAYBOY: Have you been able to stay
friends with most of your ex-girlfriends
and your ex-wife?

NICHOLSON: I have.

PLAYBOY: Does it take time after a breakup
to be friends again?

NICHOLSON: I’ve been thinking about
that a little bit lately. One thing I noticed
is that some of the most ardent disap-
proval Гуе received has come from the
people I love.

PLAYBOY: Is it because your behavior with
women hasn't always been stellar?
NICHOLSON: I think it’s been stellar.
[smiles] They may not have agreed.
PLAYBOY: If you run into them, whether
it's Anjelica Huston, Michelle Phillips,
Lara Flynn Boyle—

NICHOLSON: I'm always delighted to see
them and they me. I mean, the things
that were attractive to you about some-
one remain attractive about them, That
doesn't change.

PLAYBOY: Yet there are those lingering re-
sentments from, say, when you were see-
ing one woman and announced that you
were having a child with someone else, as
you did with Anjelica Huston when you

got Rebecca Broussard pregnant. Huston
probably didn’t much appreciate that.
NICHOLSON: One of the covenants of my
and Anjelica's separation is that I don't.
talk about her. It’s all she ever asked, and
it's a reasonable request.

PLAYBOY: How about some of the other
women: Michelle Phillips, Lara Flynn
Boyle?

NICHOLSON: I love all the women I've
been with, and I'm friends with most,
and I wouldn't have it any other way.
PLAYBOY: Are you disinclined to work
with women with whom you are, or
were, in love?

NICHOLSON: No, and it was actually a
plus to work with them when I did.
PLAYBOY: When your relationships end-
ed, were you usually the one who left?
NICHOLSON: No. It was always a matter of
discussion, though you might ask, “Were
you forcing them into а position where
they had to leave?” Maybe. “Were you de-
termining it but pretending to be inno-
cent?” That'san interesting thought. It all
seems like divine madness.

PLAYBOY: The press said that you were
devastated when your most recent
long-term relationship, with Lara Flynn
Boyle, ended.

NICHOLSON: I didn't read what was writ-
ten abou but ГИ take your word for it.
Like all my relationships, it was different
and unique. I have ongoing connections
with a lot of people I've been with, and
she's certainly no exception.

PLAYBOY: How good are you at commitment?
NICHOLSON: The women would have a
different answer than I would.

PLAYBOY: What would they say?
NICHOLSON: They would say that I wasn't
committed. I would say I was always ready
to be committed. The truth? I may always
have had some trapdoors. Now? Who
knows, since I'm content to stick around
here for the most part.

PLAYBOY: Are young actors and directors
intimidated when they show up to work
with you?

NICHOLSON: It's like the elephant in the
room that no one pays attention to. It
exists, but I ignore it, or sometimes I use
it. I try not to use it in any negative ways.
PLAYBOY: Do you generally get your way
on movie sets?

NICHOLSON: I usually have my say, but
that doesn’t mean I get my way. I try
hard not to argue too much. I usually
don't, but if I do and then get home
and realize I was wrong, it's one of the
grimmest nights I have. It's not so bad
if I'm wrong, but if I've been forcefully
wrong, calling people morons or some-
thing—oh, god.

PLAYBOY: Your temper is somewhat noto-
rious. Didn't you go after someone with
a golf dub and break his car window?
NICHOLSON: That was a lapse. Most of
what has been published about me isn't
true, but that was. 1 may have felt justi-
fied—you can bet I felt justified. Also, 1
didn't think I would do any harm. It was

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a graphite golf club. 1 thought it would
shatter. And after all, he was trying to
run me over.

PLAYBOY. Why?

NICHOLSON: I never knew what ticked
the guy off, but I can tell you this: With-
in the past year I got a leiter of apology
from him. And 1 accept his apology. That
case was fairly adjudicated, but there
have been other times when I paid sums
of money not to deal with something.
one extortion or another, and not be-
cause the other person was in the right.
"Through these experiences I have
learned something that is the opposite of
what I would have thought. I came to re-
alize that ill-gotten gains are never good
for the person receiving them. The con.
trary is true. So when you're paying an
extortionist, there's a bit of diabolical de-
light and contempt in handing over that
check. It's like when you get robbed. You
would think I'd be furious, but pretty
soon I always feel bad for the person
who has to lead that kind of life.
PLAYBOY: Are you better at controlling
your temper now than you were when
the golf club incident occurred?
NICHOLSON: I have an ongoing temper,
which I have learned to modify, I'm
proud to report.

PLAYBOY: Without consulting somebody
like your character in Anger Management?
NICHOLSON: Yeah, not like that guy. I
used to not be able to let it slide. Now 1
can. I was down at the ball game one
night, and I got this tap on the shoulder.
Most taps on the shoulder are—I'm hap-
py to say—“Hi, Jack. How you doing?”
Nice. But I turned around, and the guy
was just looking at me. He said, "Why are
you such an asshole?" I said, "What?" He
said, "Why do you treat people like such
shit?” I smiled at him, turned around and
walked away. Then I heard him over my
shoulder say, “Yeah, that’s it, smile, you
fucking asshole.” As big as he was, I really
wanted at least to say something, but I
didn't. So that's learned behavior. As you
can see, though, I'm still furious about it.
PLAYBOY: Anger Management with Adam
Sandler scems an unlikely choice for
you. Why did you do that movie?
NICHOLSON: He interested me. It's all a
learning experience, as far as I'm con-
cerned. I think you have to defy your
own conventions.

PLAYBOY: Do you like Sandler's humor?
NICHOLSON: Frankly, I'm not into farting
and vomit jokes, but I felt we got some
legitimate laughs, and it was a great col-
laboration. You learn every time. Like in
the new picture, I worked with Keanu
Reeves, who plays my doctor.

PLAYBOY: What did you think of Reeves
in the Matrix movies?

NICHOLSON: I don't like movies in which
special effects totally dominate, but those
are the movies that get the kids and
therefore get the big numbers. Even
though Гуе had many successes, they
aren't like that

PLAYBOY: Other than Batman. Would you
do another Batman-like movie?
NICHOLSON: There's nothing wrong with
mixing it in there. I wouldn't want to do
nothing but. But why not?

PLAYBOY: Is there a correlation between
your movies that were successful and the
ones in which you think you did your
best work?

NICHOLSON: Ironweed to me is one of the
best movies I've done, but was it a com-
mercial success? Some movies are jazz,
some are rock and roll. You look for
crossovers, though. Sometimes you
know when you read the script. Cuckoo's
Nest was like that.

PLAYBOY: Do you ever watch your old
movies?

NICHOLSON: Sometimes I like them,
sometimes I don't. I might hate one and
then see it again in a month and think
it's pretty good. Before I directed Two
Jakes, Y thought I should watch the other
‘ones I'd directed, so I got Drive, He Said
and then Goin’ South. 1 saw them, and
that was fine. It was good seeing Goin’
South. Danny DeVito showed it again
and had everyone over for the movie's
20th reunion. It was a particularly good
group of people. The movie wasnt very
successful, but I love it. And I love the
people who love it

PLAYBOY: You have had more than your
share of hits, including some of the best
movies ever made.

NICHOLSON: [Smiles] My true admirers
consider me underrated.

PLAYBOY: Can you tell in advance when a
line will be remembered and repeated
and become bigger than the movie itself,
such as "Here's Johnny" from The Shin-
ing or when you tell Tom Cruise in A Few
Good Men, “You can't handle the truth”?
NICHOLSON: With "Here's Johnny" I was
so antitelevision at that point I didn't
even know where the line came from.
Stanley Kubrick had to explain that it
was a line from a TV show. Sometimes,
though, when you read a script, you can
tell when you reach the writer's favorite
line. They are my least favorite lines, be-
cause of the expectations. "You can't
handle the truth" was one. You knew
when you read the script.

PLAYBOY: Since becoming successful,
have you had to resist directors who
want you to do what have become your
trademarks—the eyebrows, the smirk?
NICHOLSON: Yeah, and much of my job,
in order to suspend belief, is to un-Jack
the parts. When I read a script, I look for
when they want me to be Jack-be-wild or
Jack-be-nimble or Jack-be-whatever.
PLAYBOY: How important are the acco-
lades, whether from critics or from your
peers? Robin Williams has said, "There's
Jack, and then there's the rest of us."
NICHOLSON: He's freaking accurate, isn't
he? [smiles] 1 don't want to seem too full
of myself, and so I have a funny rela-
tionship with this subject. In some
superstitious way I'm hesitant to take

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responsibility for the successes. I'm
tempted to say that I've been lucky. It's
harder for me to say, "Well, I went to
classes for a long time, I worked hard,
I've always tried to be as selective as I
can, to try and relate to the best princi-
ples of my profession and so on." I
know it's statistically unusual to be in
this position, and there is no shortage of
good actors or actresses. In the spirit of
how I’m thinking today, not to say that I
did in some way plan this huge, exten-
sive career that I've managed would be
poor-mouthing myself. People some-
times say what we do is easy: "I can do
that." I'm usually less likely to dis-
agree—"Yeah, it's easy"—but the truth
is, it isn't, and just anybody can’t do it.
Sometimes I have to say to myself,
“Wait a minute, Jack, don't be so mealy-
mouthed.” Sometimes I think it's easy
and the work doesn't matter, but some-
times I think I'm carrying the whole
thing on my back: "It's up to you, Jack.”
1 know the poles of the delirium. I also
know that if 1 don't think that what I'm
is worth a shit, it won't be worth a
That's all there is to it.

PLAYBOY: Do avards, including Academy
Awards, retain their meaning when you
have won so many of them?
NICHOLSON: They are important, to
varying degrees, and I generally enjoy
the parties.

PLAYBOY: This past year an old friend of
yours, Roman Polanski, won an Oscar
for The Pianist, Was it gratifying to see
him win?

NICHOLSON: Oh, yes.

PLAYBOY: Do you feel his conviction for
statutory rape, which has kept him from
returning to the U.S., was justified?
NICHOLSON: The remarkable thing is that
he changed his mind about it.

PLAYBOY: How did he change his mind?
NICHOLSON: You have to remember that
the crime for which he was convicted isn't.
even a crime in his own country.
PLAYBOY: Having sex with a minor?
NICHOLSON: Whatever the age was, it’s
not underage where he comes from. He
always maintained that he didn’t feel he
did anything wrong. The girl has also
said that she doesn't feel he did anything
particularly wrong. But the minute he
had children, Roman changed his mind.
He decided he did in fact do something
wrong. As an honest man, he admitted
that, though he didn’t have to.

PLAYBOY: It happened in this very house.
NICHOLSON: 1 wasn't here, thank heavens
for that. He was staying here, and 1 was
up in Colorado. Roman, god love him.
It’s really our loss. He's a wonderful guy
and a great artist. There aren't that
many world-class movie directors, and
he’s one of them. Having children ap-
parently changed him, though. It does
change things. It did for me.

PLAYBOY: How did it change you?
NICHOLSON: At the time of my daughter

88 Jennifer's birth, I thought there were а

few things that I had wired. Then a sud-
den avalanche of new vulnerabilities—
ones that let me know my life had
changed forever—came; they came at
the moment of her birth. As they say,
you are a hostage to your children your
whole life. My children are predomi-
nantly responsible for the joy and focus
that I feel in life. Everything else comes
and goes—your health, other relation-
ships, your work. But not your chil-
dren. When people are worried about
having kids, I always say, "Don't worry
about it, because this is nature's only
guaranteed, bona fide upside sur-
prisc." I know that there's a lot of re-
sponsibility and all that, but they are a
boon in life. My kids were here this
morning before they went to school.
Part of me doesn't want to wake up at
six-thirty. 1 won't do it for a million dol-
lars, or even 20 million, but I do it for
them. Seeing them is simply one of the
highlights in my life. Earlier you asked
about love. When you have children,
you learn about a different variety of
love. It’s a life-altering experience—the
most altering I've had. I may be a soft

“I don't think Pue ever been
cynical about love. What
can I say about love? In my
life Pue had more of it
than I expressed. There’s no
doubt about that.”

person in terms of being a disciplinari-
an, but we're always delighted to be to-
gether. It’s a purely joyful experience.
PLAYBOY: After having a father who aban-
doned you and your family, did you
struggle to learn how to be a father?
NICHOLSON: 1 think it is instinctual, at
least for me.

PLAYBOY: Is it accurate that you learned at
30 that the woman who raised you, whom.
you thought was your mother, was your
grandmother, and the woman you thought
was your sister was your mother?
NICHOLSON: Yes, 30-something.

PLAYBOY: It seems a bizarre coincidence if
the scene in Chinatown when you slap
Faye Dunaway—who is uttering the fa-
mous linc "She's my daughter, she's my
sister”—wasn't based on your experi-
ence. Your mother was your sister.
NICHOLSON: I know. I'm trying to think if
1 knew about it when 1 did that томе.
No. I found out about it while 1 was do-
ing The Fortune. Y don't know the year. 1
gave up remembering dates a while ago.
[The Fortune was released in 1975, a year
after Chinatown.)

PLAYBOY: How did you find out the truth?
NICHOLSON: Time magazinc did a cover

story on me. Investigating it, they stirred
up the information. They didn't put it in
the article. A friend ofa friend was an ed-
itor there, and he said, “We don't need
it." But they told me, and 1 investigated
on my own. 1 asked the people who were
still living and learned the truth.
PLAYBOY: Were you angry about it?
NICHOLSON: I can't remember exactly
what 1 felt when 1 found out, but I came
to feel only gratitude. The ensuing time
has led me to the following thought: I'd
like to meet two broads today who know
how to keep a secret to that degree.
PLAYBOY: Was the reason for the decep-
tion that your mother was young?
NICHOLSON: Yes, she was way too young.
PLAYBOY: Was it to protect you, or were
they worried what people would think?
NICHOLSON: I can't know their motiva-
tions, but whatever it was, 1 have no re-
sentment. As I say, only gratitude.
PLAYBOY: Wasn't it disturbing to think
that moments you shared with your sis-
ter were actually with your mother?
NICHOLSON: No, though there were cer-
tain things about my relationship with
my actual mother, whom I thought was
my sister, that were clarified when I
learned the truth. Just small things,
body English. Your mother relates to
you differently than your sister does. I
felt a new empathy for my mother. I re-
member thinking, when my sister doted
on me, What are you worried about? But
of course a mother would worry. Anoth-
er thing I thought about is that others
must have kept the secret too. I grew up
in a very small town. 1 don't know why 1
never heard an inkling about this. Too
many people had to have known, and
yet I never heard anything. Either that
or I had the most outstanding selective
hearing imaginable. It doesn't matter. 1
had a great family situation there. It
worked great for ше.
PLAYBOY: It's such a cinematic story. Have
you thought about doing a movie based
оп your mother and sister?
NICHOLSON: I have, and I have thought
that I would like to write it myself.
PLAYBOY: Was this a major subject in your
ongoing psychotherapy?
NICHOLSON: I've done a lot of psychology
at different times and mulled it over.
When I learned about it, both people—
my mother and grandmother—were de-
ceased. 1 didn't have a ton of reshufiling
to do. By now I'm well beyond it. I have
been in therapy many times in my life,
though I'm not now.
PLAYBOY: What has been the result of
the therapy?
NICHOLSON: It certainly gave me a surer
sense of what my reality was. It probably,
in a number of ways, clarified things
about which I was equivocating and
therefore focused me. It certainly sup-
ported whatever sense of self-esteem I
have. Certain things worried me before I
got there, and they don't worry me now.
(continued on page 284)

STOLICHNAYA

(Enjoy Sel Rem elo isiby) .

RUSSIAN VODKA

IMMODEST PROPOSALS

by norman mailer

Calling all voters! A soulful memo from one man to many

In December 2000 George W. Bush became president by dint of a Supreme Court decision warped
shamelessly in his direction. He may have lost the popular vote, but he won the game. In compen-
sation for a limited intellectual spirit, he now placed his reliance on big-money advisers who were
used to playing with high stakes

Tax cuts for the rich characterized the first eight months of his administration. In that period
he also took more vacations than any U.S. president before him. Chalk it up to the callow dis-
tress of encountering his massive ignorance of the new job. In the wake of 9/11, however, came
an unmitigated run of White House mendacity calculated to carry us into war. If our Democrat-
ic candidate could ever be fortunate enough to run exclusively against George W.'s misdeeds,
there is small chance he would fail to win. In the last century no Republican president, not
George W.'s father, nor Reagan, Nixon, Hoover, Coolidge—we can go all the way back to Taft,
Teddy Roosevelt and McKinley—had put together such an enrich-the-rich set of political ac-
tions. Nonetheless, we Democrats face a near to insurmountable irony. George W. is a popular,
even a populist, president. All too many of the public love him, love him still. We have to over-
take а war president with an immense campaign chest who manages to keep ahead of the skunk
trail of an abominable record.

We have, for example, suffered the highest number of private bankruptcies in any 12-month pe-
riod of our history, in company with the highest number of home foreclosures in the past 30 years.
Even as 2 million Americans were losing their jobs, unemployment benefits were not extended. We
have the largest budget deficit in U.S. history, a projected half a trillion dollars coming up. Half of the
Nation is outraged over the lies that embedded us in Iraq.

For those whose pride in America runs deep, this sense of alienation from our country is full of
woe, Sharp as a divorce. The U.S. now feels like two nations, and Iraq is there to remind us daily of
our Surrealistic hubris. Boorish arrogance carried the day. Confident we could bring American-style

democracy to the Middle East, we
proceeded to ignore an entrenched
establishment of mullahs who see
American democracy as the literal
embodiment of Satan.

Itis possible that George W. has
never grown up, and the same may
be true for half of us in America.
This, indeed, is the greatest obsta-
cle to the Democrats winning the
electionin 2004. We have to recog-
nize the possibility of two entirely
different kinds of presidential cam-
paigns. At the time of this writing.
George W. Bush's popularity has.
begun to decline. If that continues,
the Democrats can win by running
against the economy.

1, however, unemployment dimin-
ishes and the stock market shows
signs of new life, if our situation in
Iraq looks less like a quagmire and
the road map to peace between Is-
rael and the Palestinians has not fal-
en apart, then Bush's personal pop-
ularity can rise again. At that time it
will behoove the Democrats to try to
win every serious voter. No longer
can we address ourselves to our
own side only; no, we will be obliged
10 look for open-minded Republi-
Cans as well. There are a number of
Serious conservatives who have
been appalled by a leader who
speaks like an android and plays
Russian roulette with our economy
and foreign affairs. In a close elec-
tion the Democrats have to pick up
a significant number of conservative.
and independent voters, and that is
possible provided—and this proviso.
is the crux of the matter—we are
able to demonstrate that the spiritu-
al values in our politics go deeper
than the Republicans’.

Given the size of the endless and
complex debates between and with-
in the two parties concerning the
multitudinous problems of labor,
farming and foreign trade, this
memo will restrict itself to the fol-
lowing subjects: Bush's Virtual Re-
ality, the Corporate Economy, ad-
vertising and education—the last
two closely affect each other—
then the trinity of oil, plastics and
the ecosystem, followed by such
social issues as prison, abortion
and gay liberation, welfare and the
Safety net, after which we can take
a look at foreign policy, homeland
security and terrorism.

These topics, given their com-
plexity, can hardly be satisfied by a
memo, but one or two suggestions
may prove of future interest provid-
ed we win the election in 2004.

A new American
belief system:
Virtual Reality

So why did Bush and company go to war? The probable answer is that an escape was needed from our
problems at home. Joblessness gave no sign of going away, and corporate greed had been caught
mooning its corrupt buttocks onto every front page. The CIA had become much too recognizable as an
immense intelligence apparatus whose case officers did not speak Arabic, and the stock market was of-
fering signs that it might gurgle down to the bottom of the bowl. An easy war looked then to be George
W. Bush's best solution. What he needed and what he got was a media jamboree that provided our
sweet dose of patriotic ecstasy. Bush would give us The Twin Towers, Part Two—America’s
Revenge. We had all seen Part One—the audacity of the terrorists, the monumental viciousness of the
attempt and its exceptional filmic success—who will ever forget the collapse of those monoliths? The
TV viewer had been overpowered by the kind of horror that belongs to dreams. One was witnessing
what seemed a video game on a cosmic scale. Worse! The exploitation film had finally come alive! Two
gleaming corporate castles disintegrated before our eyes. Two airplanes didit. David had struck Goliath,
and David was on the wrong side. The event had gone right into the nervous system of America, but
Bush now had his mighty mission, and he knew the game that would handle it—Virtual Reality.

Virtual Reality is built on whatever parameters have been laid into it. The predesigned situations,
plus the responses permitted within the limits of the game—steering a car on a video screen, for ex-
ample—measure your success or failure. Virtual Reality is then a closed system, a facsimile of life.
You have fewer choices, and the choices have been laid out for you in advance.

In life we encounter not only parameters but chaos. Closed systems forbid unexpected patterns,
confusion and all that seems meaningless. They declare what the nature of reality can be. In that
sense Communism was Virtual Reality and religious fundamentalism is still another spiritual settle-
ment within a totally structured system. Obviously, if you live in such a matrix, it helps if you believe
the parameters were established by a higher authority.

Ergo, Bush's decision to invade Iraq came from the Lord. Virtual Reality decided which conclu-
sions we would obtain before we went in. We had all the scenarios in hand. We were prepared for
everything but chaos.

Given our human distaste for chaos, Virtual Reality is the choice of every ethical system that
looks for no difficult questions, especially if they lead to even livelier and more difficult questions.
The emphasis is always to go back to the answer you had before you started.

So Bush laid out the parameters. There was a hideous country out there led by an evil madman.
This monster possessed huge weapons of mass destruction. But we Americans, a brave and mili-
tant band of angels, were ready to battle our way up to the heavens. That was our duty. Safeguard
our land and all other deserving lands from such evil.

Stocked with new heroes and new dragons, Bush was quick to sense that his presentation would
be lapped up by half the nation—all those good Americans who were longing for the pleasure of be-
ing able to cheer for America again. He turned churchgoing into high drama. September 11 had
transmogrified him from a yahoo out of Yale to an awesome angel. We were in a war against evil. A
Spiritual adventure, full of slam-bang.

Truth, it may have been Bush's political genius to recognize that the U.S. public would rather live
with Virtual Reality than reality. For the latter, out there on the sweaty hoof, bristled with questions,
and there were no quick answers. Whereas Virtual Reality gave you American Good versus Satan-
ic Evil—boss entertainment!—evil was now easy to recognize. Everything from Islamic terrorists to
hincty Frenchmen. Freedom Fries! Be it said that TV advertising, with its investiture into the nerves
and sinews of our American senses, had long been delivering Virtual Reality into our lives—all those
decades of sensuous promises in the commercials.

үүн
ач

of the rich

A Swedish multimillionaire, talking to his American guest, could not keep from complaining how steep were his taxes. Yet, by the end of
the evening, warmed, perhaps, by his own good liquor, he reversed course and said, “Do you know, there is one good thing about all these
taxes. | am able, at least, to go to bed and know that nobody in Sweden is tossing all night on an empty stomach. | can say that much for
our safety net. | do sleep better.”

Perhaps the time has come for Americans to stop worrying about the welfare of the rich. For the last two decades, the assumption has
grown more powerful each year that unless the very well-to-do are encouraged to become wealthier, our economy will falter. Well, we have
allowed them to get wealthier and wealthier and then even wealthier, and the economy is faltering. Apparently, the economic lust of the
1990s has unbalanced the springs, Might it not be unnatural, even a little peculiar, to concern ourselves so much about the needs of the
rich? The rich, as Scott Fitzgerald tried to suggest to Emest Hemingway, are not like you and me. They are not. They know how to make
money. They do not need incentives. Making money is not orly their gift but their vital need. That is their vision of a spiritual reward. Not
only is their measure of self attached directly to the volume of their gains, but the majority of them know how to stay rich. They are high-
ly qualified to take care of themselves in any society, be it socialist, fascist, banana republic or chaotic. Whether they live in a corporate
economy relatively free of government, or with a larger government presence, they will prosper. They can withstand an American safety
net. And they may even sleep better.

In the half century since World War Il, Americans have seen the Corporation become more and more powerful, usually with the aid of
the government. Under Clinton—to name one Democratic sin—there were unconscionable periods of Corporate Welfare. They took place
even as we were stripping welfare from the poor. It was outrageous. By the end of the 1990s, it was out of control. An all-out competition
began among top executives to see who could become the Champion of the Golden Parachute. The 1990s became a study in edema-of-
the-ego among once-responsible CEOs. We have yet to measure the size of that damage to our economy.

Capitalism works best when there is true competitive pride in the quality of one's product. But marketing has now stepped in. The impulse
to put your acumen, your daring, your prudence and your energy into making something better than it was before has given way to a lower

desire. It has become more rewarding to market successfully a sleazy piece of goods. More skill is required at manipulating the public.

A basic choice has to be made. Are we Democrats ready to attack the Corporate Economy we all helped to create? It is open to attack
for its marketing practices and its egregious profit taking. There is, by now, no real alternative to taxing the rich and ending the tax cuts. If
we do not call on new imposts, we will not be able to create a health system for all, plus a safety net. So we have to reinvigorate the ar-
gument that a well-funded active government is not creeping socialism. Rather, the return of government as a major partner in our eco-
nomic existence could bring some quietus to the greed, overmarketing and slovenliness of the Corporate Economy. Through emphasizing

taxation of the vices and indulgences of corporate business, we will also be able to claim that we
are improving its capacity to make a profit. Indeed, this claim might have the added advantage of
being true. Something in most of us, including the profiteers, is violated when the gap between rich
and poor yawns before us. There is no way to justify the right of any executive to make 500 times
more than his lowest-paid worker. That kind of inequity belonged to the Pharaohs. It could be de-
bated whether a decent ratio is 10 to one, or 50 to one, but a disproportion of 500 to one pokes
rudely into a spiritual core most of us still possess. It is time to say again: Let's tax the rich. Let's
tax their incomes, their dividends, their offshore investments, their perks, their concealed expenses,
their padded accounts, their promotional squanderings, their limousines, their boats, their airplanes,
their entertainments, their death tax, yes, even their advertising.

Maybe it is time to recognize that there is а sculptor's art to taxation. The body of national pro-
duction can be worked into better shape by judicious choices once the government becomes again
a serious partner in the economy. Once again, let us not be paralyzed by the fear of being called so-

= cialist. We are not. Historically, we Democrats have been for small business, the family farm, the

honest labor union, whereas capitalism, if allowed to become too free of the restraints of govern-
ment, becomes Corporate Capitalism, plus agribusiness, plus corrupt unions, plus—not least—a
manic stock market. Capitalism is unhealthy when most of the money is made from other money.

To restore the promise of American democracy, we would do well to search for the viability of
small business, the return of the family farm, and the cleaner labor union. During the presidential
campaign, we can do no more than hint at such claims. But is it too much to hope that we Demo-
crats will come up with a candidate who will have the personal integrity to convince both liberals and
some conservatives that, while they will not find support for each and every one of their favorite po-
litical desires, they will still have the satisfaction of working toward a less lunatic America? If even
one tenth of the Republican vote were to move over to the Democrats, victory could be assured. The
question opens: What could such a candidate offer to both sides that might excite them enough to
pass over their parochial demands?

The devil has to be in the details. Tax write-offs, tax rebates, tax moratoria have been used
repeatedly to enrich corporations, but our real need is to restrict tax relief to those enterprises that
benefit the whole economy rather than a privileged corner of it. in a time of worrisome joblessness,
why not reduce taxes for all businesses in direct proportion to the number of new jobs they create?
Indeed, the obverse can also be effective. Any business that chooses to pare its working force to
take in immediate profit could give up a proportion of the new and extra income in added taxes. If it
will be argued that such an emphasis on sophisticated taxation will be steering the federal govern-
'ment's nose into every business, the answer is that American Capitalism brought this upon itself.
As a system, it works considerably better than Communism, but it has its own built-in vices. The
Free Market isnot an economic miracle. If Communism failed ultimately because the degree of self-
lessness demanded of human beings was not enough to counteract the self-enriching urges of the
human ego, so capitalism in its turn has demonstrated that greed is no magic elixir, but, to the con-
trary, greed is greed, and can drive its acolytes into economic hysteria. There is a human balance
between self-interest and selflessness. It is not only possible, but likely, that a powerful desire is de-
veloping in America to become more honest about ourselves and less overheated in our patriotism.
For what is excessive patriotism but unadmitted dread that all too much is wrong?

Children can hardly
feel as ready to
learn when everyone
around them, including
their teacher, is a hint
ghastly in skin tone.

"rA

Education reform:
Kill the noise,
cut the glare

While it is sometimes remarked that
the poor performance of children in
public schools is linked to watch-
ing TV for several hours a day, an-
other factor, more invidious, is not
mentioned: the constant insertion
of commercials into TV programs.
There used to be a time in childhood
when one could develop one's pow-
er of concentration (which may be
the most vital element in the ability lo
learn) by following a sustained nar-
rative, by reading, for example. Now.
a commercial interrupts nearly all
TV presentations every seven to 12
minutes. The majority of our children
have lost any expectation that con-
Centration will not be broken into.
Our plank on education will, of
Course, parade forth the predictable
nostrums—new schools, smaller
classes, higher salaries for teachers.
We can attack George W. Bush's
program, No Child Left Behind,
which shows no signs of working.
Whatever programs we offer are
bound to do less harm than No
Child Left Behind, but the basic
problem—TV commercials—will
remain. It would probably do more
good if a portion of the proposed
funds for public school education
could replace fluorescent lighting
in just about every classroom
with old-fashioned lightbulbs. The
(continued on page 198)

“Merciful heavens! Can you believe it, Marilyn? It’s 50 years since the dawn of
civilization as we know it!”

li k

WE GAVE EIGHT TOP MOVIE DIRECTORS FREE REIN TO SHOOT THEIR
INNERMOST DESIRES. EAT YOUR HEART OUT, HOLLYWOOD

+ ovie directors are accustomed to having two hours to create a mood and explore
1 plots. When we challenged eight of our favorite film helmsmen to do the same
=$ y thing—with their erotic fantasies—on a single page of our anniversary issue, none
= shrank from the task. Of course it didn’t hurt that we also gave them big budgets and
> complete casting approval. Considering the results, we're already hoping for a sequel.
>
(Do the Right Thing, Malcolm X, 25th Hour] “The inspiration for this photo comes from
оп imoge from the film She's Сота Have It, with influence and help from the fomous photogropher
ФЕ Ey Dovid Levinthal ond his giant Poloroid. A picture soys o thousond words, so let's leave it ot that.”
2 е

MONTI ww

McG (Charlie's Angels) “My fantosy started in high school. When | graduated | was five-foot-
two, with an orenge Afro, and hod gone on o total of one dote. | hod friends who got girls,
but | hod to settle for o Walter Mitty dream life. Pom Anderson is the embodiment of every
boy’s dreams, ond since | know her now she was grocious enough to moke this dream come
true, It's like a John Hughes movie in which these guys heor obout this incredible womon ond
gother oll their nickels and dimes. When they get to her cowboy-kinky playground, the good-
locking ringleader misbehoves, ond she ties him up. Then it's o question of who will be the
lucky man to benefit from her feminine wiles. Since I'm pulling the strings here, ond Adam
Brody is on The O.C., the TV show I'm producing, he gets selected. Lucky guy”

PHOTOGRAPH BY DARREN MICHAELS. McG 4 MICHAELS 2003

KEVIN SMITH (Chasing Ату, Dagma) “My two greatest passions are my wife, Jen, and comic
books. Hence this take on the classic superhero-mortal paramour relationship taken to the next,
rarely seen level. After o day of thwarting supervillains’ attempts at world domination, our hero pays
a rooftop visit to his favorite metropolitan-newspaper reporter to give her the scoop. After years of
flirtation, suddenly their longing gets the better of them. Let's just hope for her soke that he's not
always faster than а speeding bullet. That Jen plays the reporter has a sentimental significance,
because we met when she did a story on me for USA Taday. She was beautiful, brainy and Lois
Lone-y. Small wonder that, givan my predilection for comics, this visual actually ran through my head
during our interview. Considering my level of geekiness, it’s a wonder | landed a wife at all.”

RG (Soul Food, Men of Honor) "Growing up in Chicago, |
used to ride the El troins ond the CTA buses. On the city’s predominantly block South
Side | would notice women going to ond from work. Some wore suits; some were
dressed cosuolly. All were beautiful in their own way. As | looked о! these beoutiful
black women, | felt that their faciol expressions were os much o part of their uniforms
os their clothes were. They projected whot they had to be to the world: business-
woman, woitress, wife, college student. | olwoys wondered what they were like in their
true, privote selves. So in a sense, when I'm undressing these women with my eyes, I'm
not only looking at the beauty of their bodies but also the beouty of their souls."

ER (Rush Hour, The Fomily Man, Red Drogon) "On o Tuesday afternoon in the
foll ot 1982 | played hooky and snuck onto the set of Brian De Palmo's Scarface. It wos the most
important day of my young life. My eyes were mesmerized by whot they were seeing. To watch
Michelle Pfeiffer come down thot elevator wos magical, and De Palma cooxed the grace of thot
electric moment. His molding of o simple entrance wos the hook that showed me that а direc-
tor's vision is the core of whot film is all obout. Without it you have mediocrity, and with it you
touch the meteoric. | realized then tho! visions could become fantasies. That afternoon, as a 13-
year-old boy, | knew that there was only one yellow brick rood to take. | didn’t want to be the
new Al Pacino; | wanted to be the man who creotes the vision—the director.”

MIKE FIGGIS (Leaving Los Vegas, Cold Creek Manor) “| was flattered ta make о contribution
to PLAYBOY's 50th anniversary issue but also nervous. It’s like being asked to write o book review
for The New Yorker. | looked at many photos in back.issues—because in the past, of course, |
read only the articles. But this was work, goddamn it. After an exhaustive search | found my
muses (musi?), Marketa and Natalia. We went shopping for lingerie. ‘I look better naked,’
sighed Marketa os she squeezed inta о corset, ‘It’s о close call,’ | said diplomatically. After the
shoot | took them to dinner, anxious to be spotted, But the strange thing is, you ga to dinner with
Marketa and Notalia and no one notices you. | could bullshit about the photo itself, but the truth
is...it’s two beautiful women in lingerie lying on a bed. Dream on, Figgis. Thanks, Hef!”

KODAK TMX 6062

(Armageddon,
Bad Boys, Pearl Harbor) “I've held а
camera since the age of 13, | love
to, take artful, exotic, voyeuristic
photos. Here | tried to explore the
graphic lines and curves of these
women’s bodies. | think the simplic-
ity gives them an erotic feel. | just
wish | had told my 13-yeor-old
friends | would one day shoot for
PLAYBOY.”

BUTE (Your Friends & Neighbors, The Shape of Things) “1 wanted to do some-
thing Thot wos o throwback to the different era in which PLAYBOY started. | loved the notion
of taking the classic image of Marilyn Monroe shot a.couple of years before she even be-
came who we remember her as and doing a direct homage. To toke another woman who
is vividly her own person but can capture the essence of what Marilyn wos. What I'm say-
ing in a nutshell is thot, os much as the world has changed in an era of supersonic travel
ord instant information, our fantasies haven't changed all that much. In today’s permissive
society it’s still really erotic when they don't give us everything. There's still art, and artifice,
to it. That's why I think this magozine has been able to continue and flourish.”

SEE THE CLASSIC 1478 FILM DIRECTORS: EROTIC FANTASIES |
FEATURING FELLINI AND ANTDNIDNI, AT CYBER PLAYBOYCDM.

104

LOYA

MEN CAN KEEP SECRETS—EVEN ABOUT MURDER—EXCEPT |

Fiction by SCOTT TUROW

his happened, the first part, four or five years be-
fore everything else. In those days I was still
sweeping a lot of stuff under the rug with Claris-
sa, and we didn't see the Elstners often, because
my wife, given the history, was never really at ease
around Paul and Ann. Instead, every few months,
Paul Elstner and I would take in a game on our own—bas-
ketball in the winter, baseball in the summer—meeting first
for an early dinner, usually at Gil's, near the University
Field House, formerly Gil's Men's Bar and still a bastion of
a lost world, with its walls wainscoted in sleek oak.

And so we were there, feeling timeless, telling tales about
our cases and our kids, when this character came to a halt
near our table. I could feel Elstner start at the sight of him.
The man had a generation on us, putting him near 70 at
this point. He was in a longhair cashmere topcoat, with a
heavy cuff link winking on his sleeve and his sparse hair
puffed up in a $50 do. But he was the kind vou couldn't re-
ally dress up. He was working a toothpick in his mouth,
and on his meaty face there was a harsh look of ingrained
self-importance. He was a tough mug, you could see it, the
kind whose father had come over on the boat and who had
grown up hard himself.

“Christ,” Elstner whispered. He'd raised his menu to
surround his face. “Christ, don't look at him. Oh, Christ.”
Elstner has always run a little over the margins. Never
mind the dumb stuff 20 years before when we were law
school roommates. But even now, a married grown-up with
two daughters, Paul would ride around in the dead of win-
ter with his car windows open so he wouldn't kill himself
г smoke, a pair of yellow headphones
mounted over his earmuffs so he could rock with the
Rolling Stones despite the onrushing wind. Looking at him
with the two sides of the menu pushed against his ears,
even though he was twice the size of the guy he was hiding
from, I figured, It's Elstner.

“Maurie Moleva," Paul said when the old guy at last had

moved on. “I just didn't want him remembering I'm still
alive." Elstner swallowed hard on the hunk of schnitzel
he'd stopped chewing when Moleva appeared.

I asked what it was Paul had done to Maurie.

“Me? Nothin’, Nada. This isn't about what anybody did
to Maurie. It's about what Maurie did to somebody else.”
Elstner looked into his Diet Coke while the racket of the
restaurant swelled around us. “This is obviously a story I
shouldn't be telling anybody,” he said.

“Okay,” I answered, meaning I was not asking for more.
Elstner rattled the cubes i drink, chasing a necklace of
tiny brown bubbles to the sides of the glass, plainly recon-
sidering itall, the secret and its consequences.

“This was a long time ago,” he finally said. “Before the
earth had cooled. No more than a year after you and I fin-
ished law school. I was still working for Jack Barrish. You
remember Jack. Wacky stuff was always going on around
that office. He’s defending hookers and taking it out in
trade, or trying to give me something hot—a camera, a
uit—instead of half my salary. You remember."

“I remember,” I said.

“Anyway, Jack, you know, his business clients are all
Kehwahnee hustlers just like him, and this guy Maurie Mol-
eva is one of them. Dr. Moleva, PhD. Research chemist who
went into business. A few years back now, he sold off his
company to some New York Stock Exchange outfit, Tinker
and Something, one of those conglomerates, I read about it
in the Journal, 40 million bucks, 50 million, you know,
pocket money to them but a piece of change. Back then, the
time I'm talking about, the company was still Maurie's.

“Moleva started out making household products, bleach
and spot remover, off-brand stuff that they'd sell at the in-
dependent grocers, but by then he’s really ringing the
gong selling to the military. One of his biggest contracts is
indshield washer fluid. For jeeps. Airplanes. Tanks.
Helicopters. And of course, the kind of guy he is, whatever
he's got, he wants more, so the government is like, We need.

Collage by JEFF KOONS

PLAYBOY

106

some chemical, HD-12 or whatever, in
the washer fluid, in case we're in the
desert, the sand won't stick. And Mau-
rie, he's a smart guy, we've got several
hundred thousand troops in the jun-
gles of Nam, no sand there, and the
HD-12, I don't know, it adds two bucks
a gallon, so he tells them on the assem-
bly line, ‘Leave it out."

“Now the guys on the line, they're all
to a man Maurie's people from the old
country. Including Maurie's cousin
Dragon. When Cousin Dragon was
about nine years old, he started in writ-
ing to Maurie, "America's my dream, I
need to come to America, I hate these
commies over here, they're godless
tyrants, they crush the spirit of every
man,' and Maurie read these letters for
about a decade. He'd never set eyes on
Dragon, but like every tough SOB I
ever met, he's sort of a softie on his own
time, very sentimental. So Maurie pays
Dragon's way, meets his plane, kisses
Dragon's cheeks, gives him a diamond
medallion with the American flag sur-
rounded by some vines that are a big
symbol in the homeland and puts
Dragon to work on the line. Then
Maurie goes off to tell everybody at the
church men's club what a hero he is for
rescuing his young cousin.

“Anyway, Dragon's here for a while
and he begins to get the lowdown.
Maurie's sons are driving shiny cars,
they got lovely wives and big houses,
and Cousin Dragon is bustin' his hump
on the line, starting at six A.M. every
day because Maurie doesn't like his
employees stuck in traffic. And long
story short, Dragon begins to remem-
ber what's so great about communism.
He starts in asking, Where's a little
more for the workin’ stiff? He even,
God save the poor son of a bitch, talks
on the assembly line about a union.
Not smart. Maurie gets his two sons
and they throw Dragon's butt out. Lit-
erally. They toss him through the door
in the middle of winter without his hat
and gloves. ‘I bought your fuckin’ hat,
I bought your gloves, I brought your
ungrateful pink heinie here from the
old country. Go.’

“Bad news for Dragon. And worse
news it turns out for Maurie. Because
within a few months, an Army heli-
copter gets caught in a desert storm
and goes kerplunk in the Mojave. One
survivor. Who says they went down be-
cause they couldn't get the sand off
their frigging windshield.

"So we have a big federal grand jury
investigation started up. Which is
where my boss Jack comes in. The С, of
course, has figured out that their wind-
shield wiper fluid doesn’t have any
HD-12 in it and Maurie's answer is,
‘Darn it, can you believe what knuckle-
balls I got on my line? I need better

help." That's not so bad, right? As a de-
fense? That could sell?"

It sounded okay to me, but Га never
practiced criminal law.

"It didn't," Elstner said. "Nope. The
AUSA says, 'Nope, we're gonna put
Maurie in the pokey, let the big boys call
him Sweetie. We're gonna forfeit Mau-
rie's great big business cause he's a rack-
eter.’ ‘How you gonna do that? Jack
says. "This is a terrible accident.’ ‘Nope,’
says the AUSA. ‘Nope, I got a witness."

“Dragon.”

“You can move on to the Jeopardy
round,”

“So Maurie did some time?”

“Hardly. Negative on that one, flight
commander. Maurie strolled. Here's
where I come into the picture,” Elstner
said.

I made a sound to show I was getting
interested.

“There was this night,” Paul said. “I
get a call. Past midnight. It’s Maurie.
Says he's been phoning Boss Jack every-
where and can't find him. When I tell
Maurie that Jack went to take an emer-
gency dep in Boston, you'd think from
the sound that old Maurie was passing a

stone. Finally he tells me to meet up with
him instead. Now, I don't even own a
car. I have to go wake up my sister across
town. And I'm following Maurie's direc-
tions, which take me to East Bumble-
fuck. There are moons of Jupiter that
are closer. I'm in cornfields. And here
near one of these roadside telephone
booths, here at 2:30 in the goddamn
morning, here is Maurie Moleva. It's
springtime. The earth is soft. Stuff is
growing. The air smells of loam. There's
a bright moon. He's in a rumpled seer-
sucker suit. With mud up to his knees.
He's got on a straw fedora and he's car-
rying a briefcase. He gets in the car and
tells me to drive him home. That's all he
says. Not hello. Not thanks. Just, ‘Drive.’
The Great Communicator. At his feet

he's got the briefcase, which won't quite
dose because the wooden handle of
something is sticking out of it. He's got a
ring of grime under his polished finger-
rails, and every so often he's jiggling a
chain in one palm. In time 1 see the
medallion—diamond, flag, vines. 1
didn't have a cluc right then whose it
was, but still and all, this is bad voodoo.
I'm defini ared, especially a few
days later when it turns out that good
old Cousin Dragon is AWOL.”

“Isn't that big trouble for Maurie?” I
asked. “Prosecutors aren't going to
have to summon the oracle to figure
cut who'd want to disappear Dragon.”
, well, Maurie's not stupid. No-
ill ever hang that on him. In
about a week, Dragon’s beater car
turns up at the airport. So the FBI
searches all the flight manifests and,
can you imagine, one of them shows
Dragon boarded a plane home the
same night Maurie was taking mud
baths in the boonies. Had a reservation
and all, paid his ticket in cash. Bureau
questions the guys on Maurie's line
and some are saying Dragon was talk-
ing about making some big-time mon-
ey. Couple of them are even hearing
from Aunt Tatiana who heard from
Cousin Lugo how Dragon's back in the
old country and acting real flush.

*Now the G, of course, they're up
Maurie's hind end with a miner's light,
because they just know he paid off dear
old Dragon to boogie. Feebies tear up
every bank account, they stick Maurie's
bookkeeper in the grand jury, hoping
to trace the money, but no luck. So they
call Interpol to find Dragon, but he left
no trail once he stepped off the plane.

“And of course, I'm young and
dumb, and this is really killing me.
Attorney-client, I can't talk about what
I know, and I'm too petrified to do it
anyway, but one Sunday I mosey back
to where I picked Maurie up, just hop-
ing to figure all this out for my own
sake. Which I pretty much do. Mau-
rie's in the chemical business, right?
Ever hear of hazardous waste:

“That's how Clarissa describes our
marriage.”

Elstner stopped to laugh. “Yeah,
right. Well, this place, these days you'd
call it a brownfield, a disposal site. My
guess, it was owned by the outfit that
hauled Maurie's stuff. Today, with the
EPA, you probably have to have the
Marines posted at the perimeter, but
back then there's just a chain-link
fence, and you can see somebody did a
number on the padlock. Inside there
are all these trenches, each longer than
a football field, set about 20 yards apart
and filled with rock and soil. The last
one’s open, maybe three, four feet
deep with Styrofoam liner, and a couple

(continued on page 292)

“Why don’t you come to bed and bring that feather with you?”

107

PLAYBOY

50 YEARS OF PLAYMATES

On the facing foldout are the first 25 years of Playmates, start-
ing with Marilyn Monroe and ending with Candy Loving. To
find your favorite, just locate the corresponding letter and
number on the foldout. For the next 25 years, see page 244.

1953

A-1 Marilyn Monroe, December
1954

A2 Margie Harrison, January

A3 Margaret Scott, February

А5 Dolores Del Monte, March

A6 Marilyn Waltz, April

А7 Joanne Arnold, May

A-9 Margie Harrison, June

А-10 Neva Gilbert, July

А-П Arline Hunter, August

A-13 Jackie Rainbow, September

A-14 Madeline Castle, October

А-15 Diane Hunter, November

A-I7 Terry Ryan, December
1955

А-В Bettie Page, January

A-I9 Jayne Mansfield, February

A-21 Marilyn Waltz, April

A22 Marguerite Empey, May

A33 Eve Meyer, June

A35 Janet Pilgrim, July

А-26 Pat Lawler, August

А-27 Anne Fleming, September

A-29 Jean Moorehead, October

A-30 Barbara Cameron, November

A-31 Janer Pilgrim, December
1956

А-33 Lynn Turner, January

A-4 Marguerite Empey, February

A35. Marian Stafford, March

A-37 Rusty Fisher, April

A-39 Marion Scott, Мау

B-1 Gloria Walker, June

B-3 Alice Denham, July

B-5 Jonnie Nicely, August

B-7 Elsa Sorensen, September

B-9 Janet Pilgrim, October

вп Beny Blue, November

В-13 Lisa Winters, December

1957

B-15 June Blair, January

B-17 Sally Todd, February

B-18 Sandra Edwards, March

B-20 Gloria Windsor, April

B-22 Dawn Richard, May

B-24 Carne Radison, June

B-26 Jean Jani, July

B-28 Dolores Donlon, August

B-30 Jacquelyn Prescott. September

B-32 Colleen Farrington, October

B-34 Marlene Callahan, November

В-35 Linda Vargas, December

1958
B-37 Elizabeth Ann Roberts, January
B-39 Cheryl Kubert, February
C-1 Zahra Norbo, March
C-3 > Felicia Atkins, April
C3 Lari Laine, May
Сл Judy Lee Tomerlin, June
C-9 Linné Nanette Ahlstrand, July
C-11 Myrna Weber, August
C-I2 Teri Hope, September
С-14 Mara Corday, October
C-16 Pat Sheehan, October
С-17 Joan Staley, November
С-19 Joyce Nizzari, December

1959
C21 Virginia Gordon, January
C-23 Eleanor Bradley, February
C-25 Audrey Daston, March
C-26 Nancy Crawford, April
С-28 Cindy Fuller, May
C-30 Marilyn Hanold, June
C32 Yvette Vickers, July
C-34 Clayre Peters, August.
С-36 Marianne Gaba, September
C37 Elaine Reynolds, October
С-39 Donna Lynn, November
D-1 Ellen Stratton, December

1960
D-3 Stella Stevens, January
0-5 Susie Scott, February
D-7 Sally Sarell, March
D-9 Linda Gamble, April
0-11 Ginger Young, May
Delores Wells, June
‘Teddi Smith, July
Elaine Paul, August
D-18 Ann Davis, September
D-20 Kathy Douglas, October
D-22 Joni Matts, November
D-24 Carol Eden, December
1961
5 Connie Cooper, January
Barbara Ann Lawford,
February
Tonya Crews, March
Nancy Nielsen, April
Susan Kelly, May
Heidi Becker, June
Sheralee Conners, July
Karen Thompson, August
E-1 Christa Speck, September
E-3 Jean Cannon, October
E-5 Dianne Danford, November
E-7 Lynn Karrol, December
1962
E-9 Merle Pertile, January
E-11 Kari Knudsen, February
E-13 Pamela Anne Gordon, March
E-15 Roberta Lane, April
E-I7 Marya Carter, May
Е-18 Merissa Mathes, June
E20 Unne Terjesen, July
E22 Jan Roberts, August
E-24 Mickey Winters, September
E26 Laura Young, October
E-28 Avis Kimble, November
Е-30 June Cochran, December
1963

Е-32 Judi Monterey, January
E-34 Toni Ann Thomas, February
E Adrienne Moreau, March
E-37 Sandra Settani, April

E39 Sharon Cintron, May

ҒА Connie Mason, june

F3 Carrie Enwright, July

F5 Phyllis Sherwood, August

F-7 Victoria Valentino, September

F-9 Christine Williams, October

F-11 Terre Tucker, November

F-13 Donna Michelle, December
1964

F-15 Sharon Rogers, January

F-17 Nancy Jo Hooper, February

F-18 Nancy Scott, March

F20 Ashlyn Martin, April

F22 Теги Kimball, May

1-24 Lori Winston, June

F-26 Melba Ogle, July

Е?В China Lee, August

F-30 Astrid Schulz, September

Kai Brendlinger, November
F35 Jo Collins, December

1965
F37 Sally Duberson, January
F-39 Jessica St. George, February
6-1 jennifer Jackson, March
Sue Williams, April
Maria McBane, May
Hedy Scott, June
Gay Collier, July
Lannie Balcom, August
Раш Reynolds, September
Allison Parks, October
Pat Russo, November
Dinah Willis, December

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1966
Judy Tyler, january
Melinda Windsor, February
Priscilla Wright, March
Karla Conway, April
Dolly Read, May
Kelly Burke, June
Tish Howard, July
Susan Denberg, August
Dianne Chandler, September
Linda Moon, October
Lisa Baker, November
‘Susan Bernard, December
1967
Surrey Marshe, January
Kim Farber, February
Fran Gerard, March
Gwen Wong. April
Anne Randall, May
Joey Gibson, June
Heather Ryan, July
DeDe Lind, August
Angela Dorian, September
Reagan Wilson, October
Kaya Christian, November
Lynn Winchell, December
1968
Connie Kreski, January
Nancy Harwood, February
Michelle Hamilton, March
Gaye Rennie, April
Elizabeth Jordan, May
Britt Fredriksen, June
Melodye Prentiss, July
Gale Olson, August
Dru Hart, September
Majken Haugedal, October
Paige Young, November
Cynthia Myers, December
1969
Leslie Bianchini, January
Lorrie Menconi, February
Kathy MacDonald, March
Lorna Hopper, April
Sally Sheffield, May
Helena Antonaccio, June
Nancy McNeil, July
Debbie Hooper, August
Shay Knuth, September
Jean Bell, October
Claudia Jennings, November
Gloria Root, December
1970
Jill Taylor, January
Linda Forsythe, February
Christine Koren, March
Barbara Hillary, April
Jennifer Liano, May
Elaine Morton, June
Carol Willis, July
Sharon Clark, August
Debbie Ellison, September
Madeleine Collinson, October
Mary Collinson, October
Avis Miller, November
Carol Imhof, December
1971
Liv Lindeland, January
Willy Rey, February
Cynthia Hall, March
Chris Cranston, April
Janice Pennington, May
Lieko English, June
Heather Van Every, July
Cathy Rowland, August.
Crystal Smith, September
Claire Rambeau, October
Danielle de Vabre, November
Karen Christy, December
1972
Marilyn Cole, January
PJ. Lansing, February
Ellen Michaels, March
Vicki Peters, April
Deanna Baker, May
Debbie Davis, June
Carol O'Neal, July

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Linda Summers, August
Susan Miller, September
Sharon Johansen, October
Lenna Sjööblom, November
Mercy Rooney, December

Bonnie Large, March

Julie Woodson, April

Anulka Dziubinska, May

Ruthy Ross, June

Martha Smith, july

Phyllis Coleman, August

Geri Glass, September

Valerie Lane, October.

Monica Tidwell, November

Christine Maddox, December
1974

Nancy Cameron, January

Francine Parks, February

Pamela Zinszer, March

Marlene Morrow, April

Marilyn Lange, May

Sandy Johnson, June

Carol Vitale, July

Jean Manson, August

Kristine Hanson, September

Ester Cordet, October

Bebe Buell, November

Janice Raymond, December
1975

Lynnda Kimball, January

Laura Misch, February

Ingeborg Sorensen, March

Victoria Cunningham, April

Bridgett Rollins, May

Azizi Johan, June

Lynn Schiller, July

Lillian Maller, August

Mesina Miller, September

Jill De Vries, October

Janet Lupo, November

Nancie Li Brandi, December
1976

Daina House, January

Laura Lyons, February

Ann Pennington, March

Denise Michele, April

Patricia Margot McClain, May

Debra Peterson, june

Deborah Borkman, July

Linda Beauy, August

Whitney Kaine, September

Hope Olson, October

Patti McGuire, November

Karen Hafter, December
1977

Susan Lynn Kiger, January

‘Star Stowe, February

Nicki Thomas, March

Lisa Sohm, April

Sheila Mullen, May

Virve Reid, June

Sondra Theodore. July

Julia Lyndon, August

Debra Jo Fondren, September

Kristine Winder, October

Rita Lee, November

Ashley Cox, December
1978

Debra Jensen, January

Janis Schmitt, February

Christina Smith, March

Pamela Jean Bryant, April

Kathryn Morrison, May

Gail Stanton, June

Karen Morton, July

Vicki August

Rosanne Katon, September

Marcy Hanson, October

Monique St Pierre,

November

Јале Quist, December
1979

Candy Loving, January

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YEARS

A Playboy Celebration
К ) hen you publish a lifestyle magazine

for half а century, you create a tapestry of mem-
ories. When that magazine challenges а soci-
ely's customs, you create an archive of history.
Searching through 100,000 pages of PLAYBOY to
assemble a comprehensive compendium of
highlights was а daunting and delightful task.
Here's to 50 unforgettable years.

PLAYEOR?

| [3
г Ф | %

CRES а
"E Y

At left, Hef holds the undated first
issue of the magazine. In July 1955
Subscription Manager Janet Pilgrim
(above) appeared as the first girl-

next-door Playmate. The shadowy
figure in the background is Hef.

Hefner changed the name of his mag-
azine from Stag Party to PLAYBOY at the
last minute. The sophisticated stag
morphed into one of the most recog-
nized symbols in the world.

People who expected just another girlie magazine were in for a nude awakening. With thaughtful
features on food and drink (left), rLavsor assumed its role as a sophisticated handbook for the
urban male. In 1956 readers entered Playboy's Penthouse Apartment (above), а 12-page layout
on the ultimate bachelor pad. It generated hundreds of letters inquiring about the furnishings.

During the 1950s тїлүвоү was instantly recognizable for its stylishly lighthearted covers—and the ever-present, popular Rabbit.

Fiction such as Wolter Tevis's The Hustler und Rey Bradbury's Fahren-
heit 451 established pLavsor’s reputation for literary excellence.

THE HUSTLER ===

Globe-trotting Shel Silverstein sent cartoon dispatches
(above) of his adventures from Tokyo, Paris ond even /

Moscow, while LeRoy Neiman's Femlin (right) enlivened
the Party Jakes page. In 1959 And So to Bed (below) pre-
figured Hef's beds ta come.

The Seduction
by МЕ Ferrer

i a

An aspiring cartaonist him-
self, Hefner showcased the
talents of Jack Cole, Gohan
Wilson and Jules Feiffer, who
made the most of the artistic
license they were offered.

PlayBoy helped el-
N evate illustrotian

to fine art. Poblo

Picasso shored space

with LeRay Neiman

(above). Alberta Vor-

( gos's pinups (left)
] were introduced in
1957 ond appeared

exclusively in PLAYBOY

in neorly every issue

fram 1960 ta 1978.

каа qu pma ны
la erp hrs wh eie, nd, end dni

THE HILDEBRAND RARITY

In 1960 lan Fleming introduced а fictional spy in Pusoy: Bond. James
Bond (above). The literary beat went an with Jack Kerouac (below).

THE ORIGINS
The Nude Look OF THE
spoofed design-
er fashions but
presaged the
look of real run-
ways to come.

BEAT
When Hefner moved into GENERATION
the Playboy Mansion in Chi- i
cago, he mounted a plaque |
on the door: “If you don't
swing, don't ring.” Above
right, Christa Speck makes
а splash in the indoor pool
ct the first Playmate party.

mid Eng nt
and boy hat
ed di american бр

With the opening
of the first Playboy
Club in Chicago in
1960, the Bunny
took on c new, more
fetching female
form—which we
happily showcased
in the magazine.

Comedian Lenny Bruce (left) came to
prominence in ravsov. In 1959, June
"The Bosom" Wilkinson (right) helped
make our first TV venture, Playboy's
Penthouse, а party to remember.

Man at His Leisure
(left) debuted cs а
series in 1958. It was
illustrated by LeRoy
Neiman, the тада-
zine's prolific artist in
residence. The point-
ings themselves hung
on Playboy Club walls
araund the world.

ON HER ЕМА SECRET SERVICE re By ux iban

PLAYBOY

Po”

PLAYBOY covers can have almost magical qualities. Con-
ceal the top half of June 1962 (left) to see what we mean.

An Eldon Dedini car-

toon (left) contemplat-

ed the reappearance

of temperance cru- ~
sader Carry Nation at

a Playboy Club. Be-

ginning in the 1960s 2
readers could expect :
to get a first look at

the newest of the :
increasingly popular 2
1 M James Band novels :

(above). - I
Here's Hefner (abave) hard at
work on an editorial series called
The Playboy Philosophy, which
began in December 1962 and ran

for 25 installments, helping
spark the sexual revolution.

+ PLAYBOY JAZ
FESTIVAL
YEARBOOK

^ — >< ln
1 e SIZZLING a
SCIENCE

\ ЗЕБО: ов

Playbay staged its first
jazz festival in 1959.
Critic Leonard Feather
called it “the greatest
single weekend in the
history of jazz.”

The hugely popular
Little Annie Fanny
(obave), created by Mad
men Harvey Kurizman
апа Will Elder, debuted
in 1962. Elder did other
illustrations for us as
well (right).

Bj неде Hemingway

The range of pLaYeoY's interest in things literary and ad-
venturous wos revealed in a memoir (abave) by Leicester
Hemingway and in a feature on private planes (right) “for
the harried exec who needs to get away fram it all.”

The History of Sex in
Cinema (left) began
ап ongoing series in
1965. Conversations
with the likes of Fidel
Costro, Frank Sinatra,
Mortin Luther King Ir.
and Malcolm X estab-
lished the Ployboy In-
terview os the defini-
tive print forum for
the world's most in-
fluential figures

THE PLAYBOY INTERVIEW

Donna Michelle (above) was on ar-
fistically limber Ploymate of the Year
in 1964. Brush-On Fashions (below)
pushed style buttons in 1968

As ће war in Vietnom took its deadly toll, млувоу and 1965
Playmate of the Year Jo Collins (above, left) provided support and
comfort for American troops. The mogazine also published noted
authors such os John Kenneth Galbraith on how to end the war.

Herb Dovidsor's illustration

(cbove) occompanied an in-
dictment of a right-wing mil-
itant threat to democracy.

With drug experimentation toking off, PLavsov experiment-
ed with а psychedelic Rabbit (lefi), and R.E.L. Mosters = 2
wrote obout chemically enhonced sex (obove). Pop ortist

Tom Wesselman explored The Playmate as Fine Art (right). en

As the jet black DC-9 Big Bunny took flight
(above) and the Bunny Beacon atop the
Playboy Building swept the Chicago skyline
(right), Jules Feiffer's Hostileman hovered
in the magazine's pages (below)

|. Аг
Lus

Writer John Bowers and artist Herb Davidsan
combined for а Janis Joplin profile (below),
published weeks before her death in 1970.

Trompe l'oeil covers were so пісе, we used
them twice—in June 1963 with Jayne Mans-
field and June 1964 with Mamie Van Doren.

When Hefner began hosting Playboy After Dark
(above) in Los Angeles in 1968, he didn't antic-
ipate meeting 1B-year-old UCLA coed Barbi Ben-
ton. They were together for more than eight years.

One of rLarsor's assets through the yeors has been its ability to tweak the
establishment in words and images: from the erotic visions of gifted pho-
tographers (right) and the first appearance af pubic hair (below, right) to
Alvin Toffler’s Future Shock (below, left) and the last published writing of
the Reverend Dr. Marlin Luther King Jr. (above).

In January 1970 an
essay by thealagian
Harvey Cox inspired а
striking illustration—
Jesus as a joyaus rev-
alutionary (left). In
aur second decade,
the Rabbit appeared
in many incarnations
an aur cavers—such
as a belt buckle and a
chair (near and far
right). That's Peter
Sellers in the mid-
dle—making like the
Sheik—the first man to
appear an the cover.

WARES OF AMIE SIN |

James Baldwin (left) ex-
pressed his cancerns
about race in America
The illustratian for Drug
Explosian (below) was cre-
ated from sculptures by
Martin Wanserski. When
things got taa heavy,
readers could always turn
ta а PLAYBOY cartoan, es-
pecially one that spaofed
the Nude Look (right)

The Nude Look became reality with the arrival of topless
swimsuits and other see-thraugh fashians of the mid-1960s
(lef). The Playbay Pad series presented a variety of aptions
for fantastic living spaces. One af the most memarable was
the Pneumadame (below), an inflatable dame that came in а
box and had a diameter of 25 feet.

PLAYBOY INTERVIEW
JIMMY CARTER

sov уы

The Playbay Interview made political history in
Navember 1976 when presidential candidate
Jimmy Carter confessed to having lust in his
heart. In a historical faatnate, that same
issue's caver girl, Playmate Patti McGuire,
wan the heart of tennis ace Jimmy Connars.

Salvador Dali found in:
ration in our lago—and in
a blonde quintet (left). In
cur July 1976 issue (abave)
we celebrated freedom af
expression by previewing
Sorah Miles and Kris Kristof-
ferson in The Sailor Who Fell
Fram Grace With the Sea.

Waadward and Bernstein probed the
dark days of Watergate (right), while
Arnald Rath took а lighter view with A
Barely Perceptible History of Sex (above).

ence By CARL BERNSTEIN and BOB WOQUNARD.

ALLTHE PRESIDENTS
MEN

If you wanted ta get on eyeful of the most papular and desirable female celebrities in the world, the first place you would look was the
cover of тлувоу. Those wha pased included (fram left) Jaon Collins, Dolly Portan, Raquel Welch, Bo Derek and Farrah Fawcett.

In So It's a Bracelet. What's It to Ya? (above), James Caan and Burt
Reynolds donned "tough guy" jewelry. The 12-part Playboy's Histary of
Organized Crime (right) delved into the world of real-life tough guys.

Once Hefner got set-
Нед into his new digs
at Playboy Mansion
West (above), readers
were treated to a tour,
including the grotto.
For the photo thot
accomponied Dan
Greenburg's My First
Orgy (left), Richord
Fegley ossembled o
few dozen noked
people in o Los Vegos
goroge on o hot doy.
Clint Eostwood (right)
put on clothes for o
foshion feoture—just
one of those little
things thot helped
moke our decade.

ROOTS
The Mixing
Of the: Blood

уш

Longtime contributor Alex Haley, who conducted
the first Playboy Interview, worked with his PLAYBOY
editor on the groundbreaking Roots, an excerpt
of which appeared in October 1976 (above).
Playmates entertoin the troops in Francis Ford
Coppola's masterpiece Apocalypse Now (left)

«Же д

«a By JOHN UPDIKE

Patrick Nagel's paintings began appear-
ing in тлүвот in 1974. A Frank Gallo sculp-
ture adorned John Updike's The Faint (left)

In June 1975 literary heavyweight Nor-
mon Mailer covered the Ali-Foreman
Rumble in the Jungle (above).

т
Bubbly

ner
un:
Өк

|
m. —

Hosting Saturday Night Live т 1977, Hef encountered the Not
Ready for Рите Time Bunnies (above). In a casual decade, food
writer Emanuel Greenberg offered a toast to elegance (right). |

From the pages of PLAYBOY to
the silver screen: Larry L
King's The Best Little Whore-
house in Texas (below) and
Cameron Crowe's Fast Times
at Ridgemont High (right) be-
came major motion pictures.

: m
wq N
И | =

Long before ihe book be-
came an Oliver Stone film,
PLAYBOY published Ron Kovic's
Born on the Fourth of July
(above). With the election
of Ronald Reagan (above,
left) ushering in what Hefner
would call an era of “sex-
ual McCarthyism,” journal-
ist Robert Scheer exposed
the president as more than
just a bad actor.

и Цан

The September 1976 issue (left) offered the Rabbit os a
T-shirt press-on. John Updike's Rabbit Is Rich (above)
won the Pulitzer Prize after first seeing print in PLAYBOY. A
bodybuilder named Arnold pumped up a story on brondy
(far left). In 1979 the Playboy Jazz Festival became an
annual event at the Hollywood Bowl (below).

THE PLAYBOY INTERVIEW The world’s most intriguing personolities ond newsmokers—including
(from left) John Lennon ond Yoko Ono, Jimmy Hoffo, Muhommod Ali ond Ted Tumer—contin-
ued to reveol themselves in the Playboy Interview (the Lennon issue wos on stonds when he wos
shot). In October 1979 Burt Reynolds become the second mon to oppeor on the cover (far right).

A short story by Poul
Theroux (for right) en-
honced PLAYBOY'S repu-
totion os o purveyor of
literory gems. A cortoon
(below) ond on illus-
tration of a hot dog with
everything under it (right)
demonstroted the mog-
ozine's ongoing pen-
chont for whimsy.

The sequel to Arthur C. Clorke's 2001: A Spoce Odyssey (obove)
blosted off in ruarsor. In 1979 the mogozine ron on excerpt of Nor-
man Moiler’s The Executioner’s Song (below). Lensman Holger
Trulzsch and model Veruschka (left) explored the art of body pointing

The Jonuory 1982 cover
reversed PLAYSOY's notion
of cleovoge [obove). The
photo originated in our
French edition.

Novelist Robert Coover begon his writing coreer
in rLareoY's promotion deportment. For Coover's
erotic spin on Casablanca, ortist Jeff Gold creoted
о different view of Bogort and Bergman (below).

ВУ ROBERT COOVER:

Fons of science fiction hove viewed PLAYBOY as one of the finest sources in the
goloxy. Robert Silverberg hos contributed more than o dozen for-flung stories,
including Tourist Trade (obove), which was illustroted by Poter Sato.

For the December 1986 issue,
Jorge Luis Borges penned on ode
to the tongo, while Jay Leno and
Ploymote Kothy
Shower (below)
brought the мани
dance to life. =

CELEI

In October 1985, as rLareor chonged its method of
binding, Buck Henry (above) shed o sotiricol teor for
the stople thot hod pierced so mony Ploymotes' navels.

CIVILIZATION

REVISITED

In 19B6 we looked to Jeremy Irons for a Brit of fashion
advice (above) ond Emonuel Greenberg for o blueprint
to a dozen cocktoils (above right).

ZEN

In 1984 Truman Copote and Andy Warhol memorial-
ized Tennessee Williams (above), Brooke Shields and
Lauro Richmond animated our covers (left), ond the
man who would be Bond modeled raincoots (right).

Actress Sally Field and singer LaToya
Jackson (left) joined the celebrities
wha hopped onto PLaYsOY's cover in
the 1980s. Poet Amiri Baraka profiled

ыы] Jesse Jackson (below, left). An Erikson
1 cartoon (below) posed o consequence
ШІ of rumoy's longevity.
RSS A
GIRL

Pete Dexter and artist Brad Hol-
land shed light on the demons
inside boxer Mike Tyson (above).

In its ongoing efforts to
cover a full ronge of
men's fashions, PLAYBOY
enlisted the help of
Chuck Norris to test
the limits of pajamas.

“We can't make him take it down.
She's his grandmother."

HALL OF MIRROR
MOTOR

АНУ BY ANNIE LEIBOV]

ТТТ
ІШІ

А story on high-end automobiles (above) demonstrated that
PLAYBOY takes a backseat to no one. Chrome and leather powered
Annie Leibovitz's photo session with supermodel Jerry Holl (right).

LUCKY STIFF
Edith Vonnegut's illustration (left) supported a de-
fense of free speech by her father, Kurt. Terry "Week-
end at Bernie’s” Kiser must have thought he'd died
and gone to heaven in our feature Lucky Stiff (above).

In 1992 Olivia De Berardinis created a fantasy por-
trait of Miss January 1955, Bettie Page (right).

THE

MEN

WHO WOULD BE

PRESIDENT

Months before the stort of
Operation Desert Storm,
Tony Horwitz reported on
Saddam Hussein's tyronni-
col rule inside Iraq (below).

Herb Dovidson’s portrait of George Bush os perennial bridesmaid (above)
accomponied an onalysis of the 1988 presidential contenders. For its
opening shot, Women of Washington (above, right) lobbied Beltway stiffs.

In о decade marred by the ro-
pressive sexual politics of Attor-
ney General Ed Meese (above,
lefi), PLAYBOY stood for freedom:
defending the Mapplethorpe
triol (above), John Updike's
power with words (obove,
right) and Helmut Newton's
stark eroticism (right)

OuYNOCD icra user Aare
Hor SHOTS :

PLAYBOY was keeping tabs on Arnold Schworzenegger (above) long before he began flexing his politi-
col muscle. Readers will recoll his no-holds-borred 1988 interview. In 1992’s Whotever You Soy,
Arnold, drive-in movie critic Joe Bob Briggs made о cose for liking the once and future Terminator.

For o 1991 fashion spreod
(above), lensmon George
Hurrell snapped Mario
Von Peebles ond David
Duchovny.

PLAYBOY exposed Madon-
no's corporate side (obove]
and took a surreolist view
of Frank Sinatro (left) for
the series Playboy’s His-
tory of Jozz and Rock.

On our covers, we hod
more fun with blondes:
Аппа Nicole Smith, the
Swedish Bikini Teom
and the Borbi Twins.

In 1993 Warren Farrell, o former NOW officer, offered a critique of feminism (be-

low, left). Novelist Donald E. Westloke twisted Shakespeare with A Midsummer Day-

я dream (left). With the Clintons in the White House, Anita Kunz ond writer Michael
ШШШ 2 < Lechy took oim ct their stronge bedfellows, Linda and Harry Thomoson (below).

U NINE

Supermadels Stephanie Seymaur and Cindy
Crawfard (above) pased, while Beavis and
Buti-head celebrated aur stupid times in 1994.

essions

оғ ff AN INTERNET JUNKIE

By LC. MERE. =

the

еее сезе

In June 1994 nated web brawser J.C.
Herz hooked us up with the tale af how
she lost herself in the rising Internet
surf (lap). An April 1994 Playbay Prafile
(above) zaamed in on art house
cinema wanders Jael and Ethan Caen.

After making o splash in Baywatch,
Pamela Andersan returned ta the mag-
azine in 1994 (abave). In Barely There
(belaw) we nated a spring fashion trend
on the runways: mare skin than attire.

here

WILD IN THE STALETS

Wilson McLean's il-
lustratian (left) and
Stephen Rae’s story
took о limp view of
the price af Prozac.
PLAYBOY did its part
ta keep men’s minds
ап sex (below, mid-
dle). As the new
Russian ecanamy
sputtered alang, we
uncovered a fire
sale an spy-era
gear (belaw, left).
The Dadge Viper
GTS (belaw] heated
up aur repart on
hot wheels.

Four decades after PLaveov published his novel Fahrenheit 451, science
fiction master Ray Bradbury offered The Witch Door (below). The Story of
Our Sordid Love (right) was а hilarious he-said-she-said in which Ben
Stiller and Janeane Garofalo recalled 12 lousy weeks together.

prime

To keep readers in great
style and shape, гїАҮВОҮ
recruited Jeff Goldblum
(tap) to show off black as a
summer calor and Michael
Jordon's personal trainer to
demonstrate how ta Wark
Out Like Mike (above). In
Rap at the Crossroads (be-
law) Alec Faege assessed
the gangsto threat.

THE STORY
OF OUR
SORDID Love

tee ei
a
tha.
=P me i
ie rnm tb

val Black >

Recent celebrity cov-
erage has included
(from for left) Drew
Barrymore and ane-
name wanders Јаг-
dan and Chyna. In
the summer of 2000
Future Olympians
(above) offered sug-
gestions an haw to
improve the games.
Below, we captured
the enduring allure
of spring break.

BY DAV
MAMET

Shortly before the long-awaited opening of Eyes Wide Shut in 1999,
My Adventures With Stanley Kubrick (obove) chronicled sci-fi writer lan
Watson's stint os the legendory director's "mind slave.”

Olivio De Berardinis created the illustration for One or Two Steps
Behind (obove), a powerful short story by Pulitzer Prize-winning play-
wright Dovid Momet. The diminutive Verne Troyer took on the persona
of Mini-Hef (below) for some memorable pictorial high jinks.

Рога yeor-end oudit in 2002 we offered proof that bonk-
rupt WorldCom still had valuable assets (above). Tom
Honks and Seon Combs (below) exemplified Men of Style

The Lux Life (lef) shed
light on new accessories
that make the fash-
ionable man. Over the
past decade PLAYBOY'S
covers have featured
(below, from left) oc-
tresses Tia Correre,
Shannen Doherty and
Kristy Swonson, the
women of Enron,
WWE's Torrie Wilson
and the electrifying
Carmen Electra.

In 1996 the Bunny helped usher in tailored mensweor. Ta usher in the
new century (below, lefi), Peter Мех created our January 2000 cover.

Іп 2 Fast, 2 Furious, 2 Fine (above) PLavsoy chased
down the adrenoline-oddicted chicks portrayed in
populor street-racing flicks, and photagropher Kim
Mizuno got their motors running. In the September
1999 issue (below) we looked forward ta advances in
2151 century grooming products.

DAVIS ЗА |

PETER ПАННО |

In The Birth of Cool (above) Bill Zehme defily presented the cose thot cool
came into being with the original Ocean's Eleven and the Rat Pack. We dig.

The Playboy Bunny (left) was the first real sex symbol of the 1960s—
among the many landmarks described in the 10-port Playboy's History of
the Sexual Revolution by James В. Petersen. For Sex and Two Cities (above)
in the April 2003 issue, Amy Sohn and Anna Dovid filed reports on their
randy experiences in N.Y. and LA. Sexually liberated women writing
freely—just one of the things we envisioned when we helped launch the
sexual revolution half a century ogo. We've all come о long way, baby.

TO MY SON

AMERICA'S MAN OF LETTERS OFFERS A FEW BITS OF WISDOM
ABOUT MARRIAGE, SEX AND JUDGING A MAN BY HIS HANDSHAKE

BY DAVID MAMET
xv

RULES, IT IS SAID, EXIST TO BE BROKEN. Butthis arbitrary—inability to function as advertised. An example of a
misses the point. Many rules are already broken, existing like broken rule is “Money can’t buy happiness,” which, although
vending machines, long and widely suspected of having been theoretically supportable, is of use only to the happy, all others
designed with a purposeful and demonic—though seemingly understanding it as “Not only are you poor, you're miserable."

ILLUSTRATIONS By ISTVAN BANYAI

And many rules are vastly mis-
understood, a lack of historical
understanding rendering them
onerous and oppressive. “Do
not become intimate on the
first date," for example,
might have been a pleas-
antry exchanged between
the, as we know, mainly
homoerotic produce
traders of the Fertile

Crescent.

By which we
see that a little
learning may
not be a dan-
gerous thing at
all—and may
in fact serve to
transform one’s
reputation from
that of a sexu-
al adventurer to
that of a docent.

FEEL FREE TO JUDGE A MAN BY HIS HAND-
SHAKE.

DESIRE 15 THE SHOAL UPON WHICH MANY А
FINE CRAFT HAS COME TO GRIEF. There is no
proverb trucr than that which states, “Rather than display
appetite in the house of the wealthy, you should puta knife un-
der your chin and cut your throat.” But even this could bene
fit from some interpretation: One may, in the home of the
wealthy, desire a bit more of the chicken, but verbiage on the
order of “Oh god, what a drop-dead Fragonard—could I just
hold ir?” is apt to excite the displeasure of the leascholder.

HONESTY MAY NOT BE THE BEST POLICY. BUT
IT IS THE ONLY POLICY THAT HAS ITS OWN
PROVERB.

SIMILARLY, WHEN DEALING WITH THE YOUNG
LADIES, DESIRE MUST BE MASTERED, CHAN-
NELED AND COATED IN WHAT THE ILLIBERAL
MIGHT TERM HYPOCRISY. Voltaire, of course, charac-
terized this as the homage vice pays to virtue. The repute of
the French is, at this moment, on the ebb in this land, bur it
will rebound as now one and now another considers, for ex-
ample, the worth of the Canadian Impressionists or experi-
ments with the phrase “Belgium, Mother of Irony.” Belgium
was renowned in the 20th century, but for orphans and waffles.
Its orphans were employed to incite American fervor for
World War 1, its waffles to further stultify American fairgoers.
Fame is the thing of a moment.

THERE IS NOTHING MORE IMPORTANT THAN
DEMOCRACY. IT IS AN INSTITUTION TOO PRE-
CIOUS TO BE TRUSTED TO THE ELECTORATE.

GEORGE ORWELL WROTE IN 1984, “WE HAVE
ALWAYS BEEN AT WAR WITH EURASIA.” He
meant, I believe, that any government is a bunch of lying swine
and that an upcoming film starring Edmond O'Brien would
make the case visually for those unable or unwilling to avail
themselves of the text. Those who do not read have no ad-
vantage over those who cannot read—save for the extra time
anda clearer view of the political situation.

SILENCE IS GOLDEN, AND LIKE GOLD IT MAY
BE SHAPED INTO A MULTIPLICITY OF OBJECTS.
We may perhaps grudgingly admire the Mafia chieftain who
suffers prison rather than break his code of omerta. May we
not also credit President Clinton with courage for his “I did
not have sex with that woman”—a statement intended to
save not only the country but, in an act worthy of the
dadaists, his marriage?

ANY CRIME CAN AND WILL BE COMMITTED IN
THE NAME OF FREEDOM. Some, however, you will
note, will undergo a name change. Racial arrogance, murder
and theft, being words with an unfortunate negative connora-
tion, are often called patriotism. Patriotism, turnabour being

fair play, is often mislabeled as treachery. Any government is
only as good as the people who have stolen it.

WOMEN THINK OF SEX THE SAME WAY MEN
THINK OF FLOWERS: “1 DUNNO, I GAVE IT TO
"ЕМ, AND THEY SEEMED TO LIKE IT....”

E.M. FORSTER WROTE, "IF | HAD TO CHOOSE
BETWEEN BETRAYING MY COUNTRY AND BE-
TRAYING MY FRIEND, | HOPE | SHOULD HAVE
THE GUTS TO BETRAY MY COUNTRY.” But what a
limited view. Are there not those—I believe there are—who
might accomplish both? History has proved Forster's view
both limited and provincial. Think big.

AND WHAT IS MARRIAGE? Tolstoy wrote that a wife
is not unlike a sack of flour—one cannot trudge through life
carrying it in the arms; it is bearable only when slung upon
the back. I will say that marriage is like a French movie—
delightful until it becomes clear that there will be no plot.

NO ONE HAS EVER TOLD THE TRUTH ABOUT
SEX. “I’ve never done anything like this before” and “The
[fill in organization name] has no room for profligates” are
both invitations to indulge oneself in a protective nicety.

LINGUISTICALLY, THERE IS A TIME AND A PLACE
FOR EVERYTHING. The two most beautiful utterances in
the language are “Da-da” and “Oh god, I'm coming.” But one
does not want to hear them in the same sentence-

SEX WITH THE DEAD IS THE LAST TABOO.
And it persists only because the dead cannot object, “Whom
does it hurt?”

SHOULD YOU, GOD FORBID, BE TORTURED,
MAKE SURE THAT YOU HAVE SOMETHING
TO CONFESS.

ASSUME THAT EVERY WORD YOU SPEAK ON
THE TELEPHONE WILL BE RECORDED AND
HELD AGAINST YOU. Remember thar, in practice, the
presumprion of innocence applies only ro the guilty.

DON'T BOTHER WITH SCHOOL—IT’S A WASTE
OF TIME. AND NEVER READ THE NOVELS OF
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.

ALWAYS TIP THE TAILOR.

DON'T WORRY ABOUT DRESSING UP IN
WOMEN'S CLOTHES—IF IT WAS OKAY FOR
J. EDGAR HOOVER, IT'S OKAY FOR YOU.

Love,
Dad

“Well, your singing was off-key, but I really like the big finish.”

141

ARCHITECT FRANK GEHRY DESIGNS THE ULTIMATE 21ST CENTURY TOWN HOUSE

e like our apartment,” Hugh Hefner wrote in
PLAYBOY's inaugural issue. “We plan on spending
most of our time inside.” Half a century later we
still find ourselves dedicated to the pursuit of in-
door sport. Little wonder that PLavBov has always
considered the proper bachelor pad to be a criti-
cal component in achieving the good life. In May
1962 we published plans for the original Playboy
Town House, which Hef initially intended to build
as his home in Chicago. (He canceled construc-
tion when he found the Playboy Mansion.) When
we decided to update the concept for the new mil-
lennium, we knew only one man could do the job
justice: Frank Gehry, the most accomplished and

best-known architect since Frank Lloyd Wright.

A native of Canada who moved to Los Angeles
when he was 17, Gehry made his mark as an icon-
oclast who used chain link, plywood and corrugat-
ed metal to create what he called “cheapskate
architecture" that defied modernist conventions of
form and material. But it was the Guggenheim Mu-
seum in Bilbao, Spain—a titanium monument to
fluidity and grace—that announced Gehry's arrival
as a master in 1997; he's been the world's most in-
demand architect ever since. By all accounts Gehry

Gehry's bachelor pad fright) Is in a converted warehouse.
Other than offering a view of the curved-glass rooftop bed-
room, the street gives no indication of Ihe sensuous interior.

GROUND-FLOOR LOUNGE (above): What's a bachelor pad without special guests? This is what they see when they arrive. Both the elevator and the lounge
interior are covered in murals by Alejandro Gehry. In the movable living room is Frank Gehry's trademark corrugaled-cardboard furniture and a fiot-
screen TV. In the lounge are plush leather couches that lead fo the ber, which is integrated into те curving walls. BATHROOM (below): The fourth-floor
master bathroom is where c bachelor's life begins fo heat up. Surrounded by mirrors, bright colors and artwork, the room is meant fo double as a place
of entertainment. The centerpiece is а sculptural tub clad in translucent glass. The bedroom floats above, providing visual connection from floor fo floor.

is the perfect choice to build a hedonistic pleasure dome.
“There are no gloomy Gehry buildings,” wrote architecture
critic Ada Louise Huxtable. “Delight breaks through constantly.”

Gehry accepted our challenge to design the ultimate abode for
the single urban male. We told him to disregard traditional con-
straints of budget; our only request was that it be a truly livable
space. Working from Gehry’s drawings and sketches, members of
his design team created the models on these pages. This is no
pie-in-the-sky design; the pragmatic Gehry fully expects his
Playboy bachelor pad to become a reality.

PLAYBOY: What were you hoping to accomplish here?
GEHRY: | thought about the tradition of the Playboy pad and
the lifestyle embodied by the magazine, and we tried to work
from that. The goal was to find a physical manifestation of
those ideals. Now we hope to actually build it.

PLAYBOY: What's the idea behind these designs?

GEHRY: We started with a loft building. The pad is on several
floors and also on the roof. Each floor is pretty large, and each one
has been designed as a single room, so one floor is the library,
one is the lounge, one is the bedroom. That's how it's organized.
PLAYBOY: What do you think is the most interesting feature?
GEHRY: It has a big elevator, like a freight elevator, only it's a
living room. When you come in and the elevator is on the
ground floor, it connects with the lounge. You can hang out in
the bar. If you go up to dine, you bring half the living room with
you and it connects to the dining area. It also goes up to the
third-floor library and the bathing space.

PLAYBOY: And what's upstairs?

GEHRY: The top floor is the bedroom. There's a pool on the roof.
When you're in bed, you look at the glass on the bottom of the
pool. My sons did sexy murals for the walls. The whole place is
colorful and has a lot of soft forms. If | were a bachelor and bought
one of those loft spaces, this could really work, because they
make elevators that big, like the elevator at the Whitney Museum
in New York, which holds 30 people. You'd have that big plat-
form, and then it would be a room, and it would keep going up.
PLAYBOY: You'd have the elevator repairman in every week.
GEHRY: Oh, no, they're not that complicated —they work on a
piston, like a lift in a garage. It would make for an interesting
place. | think a big TV would go in the elevator so you'd have a
big liquid-screen DVD thing on any floor. I'm excited about this
town house. | think it would work for anyone, not just bache-
lors. It would be quite reasonable to do.

PLAYBOY: How is a bachelor pad different from other abodes?
GEHRY: Well, | really couldn't tell you. | haven't been a bache-
lor since the 1970s.

KITCHEN: On the second floor, this room, like all upper floors of the
Playboy bachelor pad, has views through the glass living room floor. The
kitchen table is a skylight covered with glass, which ollows guests to
see into the lounge below. The curving cabinels are made of Douglas
fir plywood, one of Gehry's favorite moterials.

PLAYBOY: What shaped your attitude toward urban design?
GEHRY: Modern architecture denies decoration. So how do you
humanize a building without resorting to 19th century decora-
tion? | looked for clues in the city. One clue was that buildings
under construction look better—warmer, friendlier—than they
do when they're closed up. Then, the sense of movement is
part of the urban character. It's a kinetic thing. | started trying
to use those ideas.

PLAYBOY: What's up with you and those fish?

GEHRY: | started using fish motifs because when everybody
began making postmodern stuff, | was angry. The Greek tem-
ples are anthropomorphic. One day in a talk | said, "Damn it,
if you're going back to be inspired

Museum in Minneapolis (1993) wos Gehry's first stainless steel structure; residents of Progue refer Го the Nationale-Nederlanden Building

GEHRY BUILDINGS (from left): Los Angeles's Walt Disney Concert Най (2003) is Gehry's most recent masterpiece; the Frederick Weismon |

(1996) as Fred ond Ginger; Philip Johnson calls the titnium-clad Guggenheim Museum Bilbao (1997) “the greatest building of our fime."

GEHRY: | guess Paris, because | lived there for a year. Lately
I've been excited about Lisbon. It's an amazing place.
PLAYBOY: What's your favorite North American city?

GEHRY: Chicago. Architecturally, it's the most interesting city. |
like the new Soldier Field. It's great.

PLAYBOY: What would you like to design that you haven't

by man through the Greek temples, why not go back further?
If you want to go back in time, go back to fish, 300 million
years before man.” | just blurted it out, but then | started
drawing fish in my sketchbook. And it became an obsession.
Every time I'd get a chance, I'd start doing these funny fish.
You had a sense of movement from the tail.

PLAYBOY: What's your favorite city? yet designed?

PADS GONE WILD a took at some of recent history's

most famous—and infamous—bachelor domains

VOULEZ-VOUS COUCHER AVEC MOI? |
BACHELOR: Fashion designer Pierre Cardin. PAD: Palais
Bulles (Bubble Palace), his villa near Cannes, France.
The Jetsons-esque pad was built in the 19705. Every
room is round, resembling a bubble—even the windows.
are circular. Winding staircases and semispherical pools
keep pushing the sensuous theme. CLOSER: The round
(of course) bed, big enough for four people—or two
people and a lot of toys.

BACHELOR: Rat Pack movie star Peter Lawford. PAD: 625
Palisades Beach Road in Santa Monica, California, where
JFK and RFK were rumored to enjoy trysts with Marilyn
Monroe and others. Boasting a martini bar, it became so
synonymous with sex that "Peter Lawford's beach house"
is a euphemism (as in "We're dating, but I still haven't.
been to Peter Lawford's beach house"). CLOSER: A.
swanky beachside pool that looks out on the Pacific.

MOTION OF THE OCEAN
BACHELOR: P. Diddy. PAD: Southern Cross Ill, а $25

million, 181-foot yacht anchored in France. It features
seven cabins, several bars (Cristal for everyone!) and
13 staffers. Ladies who've made waves on board: Diddy's
sometime girlfriend Kim Porter and dozens of Ibiza
beach bunnies. Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher have
also yachted with Diddy. CLOSER: The hydraulically
operated heliport for impromptu landings.

JFK AND MARILYN SLEPT HERE |

PYRAMID SCAMMER |
BACHELOR: Wilt Chamberlain, who boasted of scoring
with more than 20,000 women. PAD: A 7,000-square-
foot estate in Bel Air, California, where Chamberlain

kicked it for nearly 30 years. Built in 1971, the house
is almost entirely triangular—including the billiard room
and the seven-foot-deep hot tub. A bedside button fills
it up. CLOSER: The mirrored bedroom ceiling, which re-
tracts to reveal the heavens.

A HARD UDAY'S NIGHT

BACHELOR: Saddam Hussein's son Uday, who never
let being a deranged tyrant interfere with his rep as a
ladies’ man. PAD: A mansion in Dad's palace compound,
featuring a ladies’ house, a gym and a zoo. Class-act
extras included paintings of nude women, $1 million
worth of liquor, six bags of heroin, Cuban cigars and
the charred $100 bills used to light them. CLOSER:
Mood-setting statues of couples engaged in foreplay.

GEHRY: | haven't done a skyscraper,
that big phallic thing. Everybody wants
to have the world's biggest erection.
PLAYBOY: Is it true that you turn down
nine out of 10 job offers?

GEHRY: No. We can only do so much,
and I'm trying to keep the office at а
certain size. After Bilbao we were
asked to do a lot of Bilbaos. You know,
“Come and save my city.” That kind of
stuff is so intellectually uninteresting.
They don't know why they want it,
they just want it. | don't want clients
who bend over and say, "Here's all the
money you want. Just do whatever you
want." | want a tough client with a
tough budget who's willing to explore
with us and do something special.
PLAYBOY: How does it feel to go from
being a rebel to being part of the
establishment?

GEHRY: Gee, | don't think of myself that
way. Luckily my success came very
late, when | was in my 60s and 705, so
I don't trust it all. Рт always insecure
as | approach a new project. | think it's
a healthy insecurity.

PLAYBOY: Fifty years ago architects
had a utopian vision for urban life.
Why have they moved away from that?
GEHRY: Because you can't do it. Our
cities are a product of democracy, and
they're chaotic because of that. We
have to think incrementally. In other
words, you have a sphere of influence
that's only one or two blocks, and you
try to make those blocks the best you
can. To try to build a Rockefeller Cen-
ter or an Albany Mall is antithetical to
the time we're in. That kind of megalo-
mania is from the 19th century.
PLAYBOY: Why is commercial archi-
tecture in the U.S. so boring today?
(GEHRY: Because the people building it
aren't sophisticated. They're just dull.
PLAYBOY: Which animal is the best
architect?

GEHRY: The beaver.

PLAYBOY: What's the biggest cliché
about you?

GEHRY: That | just crumple up a piece
of paper or sketch something on a
cocktail napkin and it becomes a build-
ing. | design my buildings from the in-
side out. They're not sculptures.

ROOF TERRACE (above): With aclear-bottom swimming pool, а bar and tables outside, the terrace is the perfect place to savor life. The translucent glass
walls extending from the bedroom below provide privacy. BEDROOM (below): As befits the nature of the room, this is the only interior space that peaks
above the original warehouse structure. Because if floats atop the master bath, the intimate bedroom is surrounded by curving translucent glass. те bed
takes up the whole floor of the floating room, which is covered in mirror-finish stainless steel and draped with paintings on the curving wall surfaces.
Providing light from above is the clear-botiom pool hanging in the space. The elevator serves as a room that connects with all other rooms.

148

N e SS

The joy and terror of the blank page, empty and infinite, source of

anxiety and inspiration for all writers, including this one

by Jonathan Safran Foer

The First Empty Page

I started collecting empty paper soon after I finished my
first novel, about two years ago. A family friend had been
helping to archive Isaac Bashevis Singer's belongings for the
university where his papers and artifacts were to be kept.
Among the many items to be disposed of was a stack of
Singer's unused typewriter paper. (Understandably it had
been deemed to have no archival value.) My friend sent the
top page to me—the next sheet on which Singer would have
written—suspecting that 1 might take some pleasure in the
remnant of the great writer's life.

Once white, the paper had started to yellow, and, at the
corners, to brown. There was a slight wrinkle across the bot-
tom (or was it the top?), and scattered about were specks of
dust that were resistant to my gentle brushes, apparently
having been ground into the paper's fibers. (I've read that
90 percent of household dust is actually composed of human
epidermal matter. So 1 like to think of the page as holding
the face that once looked over it—the wrinkle corresponds
to Singer's pinched forehead.) But to the casual glance, it's a
clean, perfectly ordinary sheet of typing paper.

For weeks, I kept it in the envelope in which it was sent.
Only occasionally did 1 take it out to look at or to show to a
visiting friend when conversation slowed. I thought it was an
interesting oddity and nothing more.

But I was wrong about the empty page. Or I was wrong
about myself. A relationship developed. I found myself
thinking about the piece of paper, being moved by it, taking
it out of its envelope several times a day, wanting to see it. I
had the page framed and put it on my living room wall.
Many of the breaks I took from looking at my own empty pa-
per were spent looking at Singer's.

Looking at what?

‘There were so many things to look at. There were the phan-
tom words that Singer hadn't written and would never write,
the arrangements of ink that would have turned the most
common of all objects—the empty page—into the most valu-
able: a great work of art. The blank sheet of paper was at once
empty and infinite. It contained no words and every word
Singer hadn't yet written. The page was perhaps the best por-
trait of Singer—not only because it held his skin (or so I liked
to think) but because it was free to echo and change. His books
could be interpreted and reinterpreted, but they would never
gain or lose words; his image was always bound to the moment
of its creation. But the blank page contained everything Singer
could have written and everyone he could have become.

And it was also a mirror. As a young writer—I was then
contemplating how to move forward after my first effort—I
felt so enthusiastically and agonizingly aware of the blank
pages in front of me. How could I fill them? Did I even want

to fill them? Was I becoming a
writer because 1 wanted to be-
come a writer or because I was
becoming a writer? I stared into
empty pages day after day, look-
ing, like Narcissus, for myself.

More Emptiness

I decided to expand my collec-
tion. Singer's paper was not
enough, just as Singer's books
would not be enough in a li-
brary, even if they were your fa-
vorites. [ wanted to see how other
pieces of paper would speak
to Singer's and to one another,
how the physical differences
among them would echo differ-
ences among the writers. I want-
ed to see if the accumulation of
emptiness would be greater than
the sum of its parts. So 1 began
writing letters to authors—all of
whom I admired, only one or
two of whom I had ever corre-
sponded with—asking for the
next sheet of paper that he or

Miller, Singer, DeLillo, Updike, Franzen, Wallace and the author at home.

ed three times and fit into a
9%19” envelope:

Dear Jonathan,

A hundred years ago I used yel-
low paper every day in my job writ-
ing advertising copy, and when I
quit the job to become a grown-up
first and then a writer, I took (I
guess) а fairly large quantity of
this copy paper with me. The first
draft of my first novel was typed on
this paper, and through the years 1
have used it again, sparingly and
then more sparingly, and now there
are only five sheets left.

Back in those days I was the
Kid, and the friends I made on the
job are either older than I am or
dead (two days ago I wrote and de-
livered a eulogy for one of them),
and so this yellow paper carries a
certain weight of friendship and
memory. That's why I thought Га
entrust a sheet to your collection.

Best,
Don DeLillo

she would have written on.

Richard Powers was the first to respond. "The favor is
indeed strange," he wrote, "but wonderful. The more I
think about it, the more resonance it gets: a museum of
pure potential, the unfilled page!" He sent along the next
sheet from the yellow legal pad on which he writes. When
1 held it to my face, I could see the indentations from the
writing on the page that was once above it. Within a week
the indentations had disappeared—the ghost words were
gone—and the page was again perfectly flat.

I received a piece of paper from Susan Sontag. It was
slightly smaller than the standard 8/^x 11^, and her name
was printed across the top—for archival purposes, 1 imag-
ined. John Barth sent me an empty page. It was classic
threc-hole style with light-blue horizontal lines and a red
stripe up the margin. (How strange, I thought, that Amer-
ica's most famous metafictionist should compose on the
most traditional, childlike paper.) His note: "Yours takes
the prize for odd requests and quite intrigues me." A sheet
of empty graph paper from Paul Auster, which evoked his
style. An absolutely gorgeous mathematician's log from
Helen DeWitt, accompanied by advice to the young writer
about getting to know one's typesetter. A page ripped from
David Grossman's notebook—small, worn even in its new-
ness, somehow strong. He sent along a beautiful letter
filled with observations, opinions, regrets. hopes and no
mention of blank paper. A clean white page from Arthur
Miller, no accompanying note. Paper from Zadie Smith,
Victor Pelevin, David Foster Wallace (“You are a weird
bird, JSF"), Peter Carey, John Updike.... Jonathan
Franzen sent his page back in an envelope with no return
address. Attached to the sheet was a note that read simply,
“Guess whose?” (The postmark betrayed him.) A length-
wise-folded sheet of paper from Joyce Carol Oates. She ex-
plained that she likes to write on narrow pages so that she
can view all of the text at once and complete pages twice as
quickly. At the end of the three-page letter in which she
carefully described her process of composition she wrote,
“Truly, І believe...what we write is what we are."

I received an empty page from Don DeLillo. The paper
itself was relatively ordinary: a uniform field of yellow,
82:11". Тһе accompanying note was typed onto a thin

white sheet of typing paper (or was it tracing paper?), fold-

Empty Freud

My most recent addition to the Empty Page Project came
this past fall when I was paying a visit to the Freud Museum
in London. (For those who haven't been there, it’s the house
in which Freud spent the last year of his life after having led
Nazi-occupied Austria. The books are left as he left them.
His figurines haven’t been moved. The famous couch
draped in Persian carpets seems to hold the indentation of
his final patient.) It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and
with the help of a friend I was able to arrange for a private
tour. The director led a memorable walk through the house,
filling my head as we went with touching, funny anecdotes.
At the end as we were about to part ways, I explained my
collection to her. “I'm sure you can't help,” I said, “but I'd
hate myself if 1 left without asking.”

She gave it a thought, which in itself was more than I
ever would have anticipated, and then smiled wryly. I
don't remember us speaking any more words to each oth-
er. She led me back to Freud's office, a room filled well be-
yond its capacity with busts, vases, books, ashtrays, rugs,
prints, ancient artifacts, magnifying glasses, pieces of
glass...things—the things one can't help but think of as
expressing the man who collected them. One at a time
and slowly, she moved aside the velvet ropes that marked
off the protected area.
(You know your heart
is beating heavily when
you become aware of
the spaces between the
beats.) She led me to
Freud's desk, which
hadn't been moved
since his death, and
opened the center
drawer. It was filled
with such beautiful...
things: a velvet pouch,
which held a lock of his
wife's hair; appoint-
ment cards for his pa-
tients; the pieces of a
broken statuette; and a Freudian slip: from Herr Doktor's office in London,

stack of his blank paper.
Across the top of each
page read:

Prof. Sigm. Freud

20 Maresfield Gardens
London, N.W3.

Tel: Hampstead 2002

Carefully she slid off the
top sheet and handed it

to me.

Ideal Emptiness

What would be the ideal
sheet of empty paper? I
know which ones Га
like. Kafka's would be
wonderful. As would
one of Beckett's. I'd love
an empty page of Bruno Schulz's. That would mean the
world to me. Nietzsche. Rilke. Why not Shakespeare while
we're at it? Or Newton? More realistically a sheet from W.G.
Sebald would be great. (Would it have been as great, though,
ifhe hadn't died, too young, in a car crash? And if not, what
does that say about the collection?)

The ideal sheet would not necessarily be that of the great-
est writer but that which held the most potential.

Through a lot of difficult research I was able to find out
that Anne Frank's diary was not completely filled. (The fam-
ily was betrayed and arrested; her writing ended abruptly.)
There are empty pages, waiting there for the touch of a pen
that will never come.

I read the diary as a child and have reread it several times
since. But it wasn't until last year that I first visited the Anne
Frank House. I was in Amsterdam to give a lecture for the
release of my novel's Dutch translation. In one afternoon I
saw the foreign edition of my book and the Anne Frank di-
ary itself. Each experience moved me strongly, in what I now
realize were opposite ways.

In the case of my book, I had become so accustomed to its
familiar physical presence that to witness it as an idea—
which it necessarily was for me, as I couldn't understand the
Dutch—was jarring. I saw the ripples that emanated from
the words I threw in the lake. The book—the ink that I had
applied to the paper—had taken on a life in the world. It
had grown in directions not under my control, or even in
my view. It was becoming an abstraction.

And in the case of the diary, I was so accustomed to think-
ing of itas an idea, a sadness that resonated across languages
and generations, that to see the physical referent, the actual
book, was not only moving but shocking. I couldn't believe
that the thing we had been thinking and talking about all of
that time was actually a thing.

Naked Pages

I'm writing this essay for a magazine that, for all of its other
attributes, is distinguished by its unclothed women. What
about an unclothed page? Is that the page's "natural" state?
And is there something equally taboo about it? Equally erot-
ic? Does it make it more exciting to know that the advertis-
ing space in this issue runs somewhere in the neighborhood
of $100,000 a page? And if so, why?

If T insert one blank page, when the magazine is printed it
will become more than 3 million blank pages. Stacked, these
blank pages would form an empty column the height of the
Empire State Building. Laid end-to-end they could cover a
path from Boston to Washington, D.C. And more than that,
as PLAYBOY has a readership (as opposed to a circulation) of
close to 10 million, the mental space that these empty pages

This one came with advice.

PHOTOGRAPHY BY GEN NISHINO

would occupy is breathtaking. One blank page, created with
the ease of a single hard return, will contain the potential of
each of the 10 million people who look at it. What might
they draw on it? What might they write? What thoughts
might it inspire in them? What image would they see in its
depths? What image do you see?

Please cut the empty page from this article and mail it to:
The Naked Page Project, % PLAYBOY, 730 Fifth Avenue,
New York, NY 10019.

The Last Emptiness

My little brother is going to be a senior in college this year
He's already started to worry about what to do with his life.
(My telling him that he can be anything he wants doesn’t
help him at all. It hurts him.) He has some interest in docu-
mentary filmmaking, although he's done nothing to prepare
himself for such a path; architecture seems interesting, but
he’s afraid of designing suburban kitchens for the rest of his
life; writing would be a consideration, except that both of his
older brothers do it.

When he was a baby, I would carry him up and down the
stairs even though my parents told me not to hold him un-
less they were watching. I knew even asa seven-year-old that
I was putting him in danger. But | had to put him in danger
so I could protect him from danger.

He's envious of me, and I’m envious of him. He wants
direction in his life. He wants to have words to apply to his
interests, recognizable ways to describe himself. (It isn't
acceptable simply being someone who experiences the
world deeply.) He wants an unchanging mailing address.
He wants to accomplish things, to put empty paper behind
him—whatever form that empty paper should take. 1
remember what it was like to be so uncertain, so scared.
And I remember the joy of not knowing, of everything
seeming possible and possibly wonderful. Or horrible. Or
mediocre.

Every day I better know what to expect, and so the days
grow shorter and fit tighter, and if it isn't like dying, it's like
disappointment. But 1 can remember, as if it were yesterday,
turning on my laptop, knowing that I was about to start my
first novel—the moment before life wrote on me.

In his story *Gimpel the Fool," Singer writes of a “once-
removed" world, a better world in which the foolish are re-

Paperless Brooklyn: the author filling in the blanks at a favorite cafe.

deemed and everyone gets what he deserves. In that world
we never say all of the things we wish we hadn't said. And
we say all of the things we wish we had. It's easy and im-
possible to imagine. We are graceful, in that world, and
patient, the full expressions of what we know ourselves to
be. It's nice to think about.

151

Ж Ритер 5, Thompson

MEMORANDUM

FR: DR. HUNTER 5. THOMPSON
TO: HUGH M. HEFNER

RE: ANNIVERSARY

JANUARY 2004

Dear Hef,

Well, well, well. Fifty years on the road, eh? Hot damn! Fifty years in the fast
lane is a truly incredible trick to pull off in these weird fascist times. I salute you.

The mere existence of PLAYBOY in 1953 was a Message, and the message
said, Yes, it can be done. We can publish pictures of naked women (and even
the Girl Next Door), and we can write strange and even perverse stories about
real sex adventures with real naked girls.... Jesus, it was a monumental break-
through to Freedom, PLAYBOY was a signal that we were on the right track, we
were smart, and we would prevail. Yes. We could publish any goddamn thing
we wanted to, and we would beat those vicious, half-bright bastards who
wanted to and still want to stomp out our Art and our energy and our precious
bodily fluids.

Right. They hated us from the start, and they hate us now.

Growing up їп the 1950s was a hard dollar, and it was especially hard for рео-
ple like you and me. But so what? I was committed to my Art. And I felt equal-
ly committed to my exploration of beautiful naked women, and 1 pursued that
with equal vigor.

Like you, I wanted not only to mingle frequently with beautiful naked
women. I wanted to ger paid for it, too, and that was a very hard dollar. Which
it still is, frankly—just not quite so hard as it used to be. And credit for that
goes to you. You were a pioneer for all of us, a genuine American hero.

There was a time back there in the primitive 1950s when the Harlem Globe-
trotters were the hottest ticket in basketball. They were heroes too, for many

154

people. Nor even the perennial college-
champion University of Kentucky Wild-
cats could sell out a house faster than the
Harlem Globetrotters.

The Globetrotters were an all-black
team of hired clowns who could play
what looked like world-beating basket-
ball. They were in a league all their own,
so absolutely unbeatable that they had
no real competition. It would have been
sad, if it weren't so ridiculous.

There was no doubt in my mind that
they could easily beat Kentucky, then the
number one team in college basketball.
Bur ir would never happen, of course,
because black people didn't
even go to U of K in those
days, much less play on
the basketball team. The
Wildcats wouldn't even
think abour playing on the
same floor with black peo-
ple, so the question was
never answered.

I was brooding on this
last night, as I frequently
do when І рег baffled and
frustrated by unanswerable
and freakish political ques-
tions like Why is the U.S.
Supreme Court like it is? or
Did George Washington
really throw a genuine U.S.
silver dollar across the
Rappahannock when he
was 13 years old?

I tried that once, with
one of those replica silver
dollars that you can buy for
$35 or $40 from the U.S.
Mint in Philadelphia, and
went about 50 feet before іг
sank out of sight. The river
is more than half a mile
wide at that point, so I
knew immediately that the
silver-dollar story was bull-
shit. That is the way I like
to test these absurd politi-
cal legends, just so they
won't hang around and haunt me for the
rest of my life, like that goddamn silver-
dollar story did until 1 finally tried it and
made a fool of myself.

|]
The Globetrotters were so unbeatable,
in fact, that they finally had to hire an
all-white, all-Jewish team of profession-
al stooges called the House of David ro
go on rour with them and get whipped
on and humiliated every night. It was

like taking their own cannon fodder
with them from city to city.

Just why the House of David popped
into my mind ata time when I was deeply
engaged in a semiprofessional political
debate was not at all clear to me at first,
until I saw the dismal similarity between
the House of David and the Democratic
Party in America today.

The House of David and the Demo-
cratic Party are one and the same. Their
job, every game and every election, is to
Lose. They were both born to Lose, and
thar is what they do for a living. The
Democratic Party no more expects to

take over the White House in 2004
than a chicken expects to get rich by
walking on water.

The USA is coming to pieces very rapid-
ly. This once proud nation of hoodlums
and whores and the American Way has
finally run amok and is effectively Our
of Control, and it will лог recover. The
infrastructure is too far gone. The loor-
ing, cheating, stealing and failure have

stripped this country of its assets, its
Pride, its success and its security.

The National Treasury is empty, the
Stock Market will never recover, our
troops in Iraq will never come home.
You will nor find a job, never again...
Your children will drink dirty water for
the rest of their lives. You will lose your
home and all your personal saving:
You will never be able to retire or even
stop working, and you will be a serf, a
terminally indentured servant to one of
the vast anonymous and eternally war-
like global Corporations that will rule
the world for their own reasons and

their own profit.

„4.

Bur not you and me, Hef.
We have prevailed. We will
never get caught up and
chewed horribly in the
hideous debris and evil
craziness that will inevitably
come along with the panic
and collapse of a once pow-
erful empire. Look at Ger
many, look at Rome, look
at the dismal British gov-
ernment. Look at their once
heroic prime minister, a
conquered little whore who
means nothing to History.

There is no way that we
can talk about the fabulous.
PLAYBOY era without remem-
bering what was vicious
and wrong and ugly in
those years. Remember Joe
McCarthy, that maniac sor
of a senator from Wisconsin
who raved and bullied and
literally destroyed the lives
of so many thousands of
| good and innocent people

who were no more card-

carrying Communists than

I am? Yes, sir, that stupid

alcoholic bastard literally

seized control of our Crimi-
nal Justice System and filled our brains
with Fear for half the decade. Even Presi-
dent Eisenhower was afraid of him, afraid
of merely being accused of being involved
in some evil Communist Conspiracy to
destroy the whole U.S. government and
even our “American way of life.”

Does that sound vaguely familiar? Sort of
like our current “War on Terrorism” or our
hopelessly stupid and incompetent “Ма-
tional Security Emergency"? Yeah, with-
out a doubt it does, and that worries me.

Another thing that worries me, Hef, is
that ours will almost certainly be the
first generation in the history of our
country to turn America over to our
sons and daughters in a far worse condi-
tion than when it was turned over to us.
Horrible, eh? But it is true, and I spend а
lot of time brooding on it, and some-
times even feeling ashamed.

РУБ

How about you? Are you feeling ге-
sponsible for our stark naked failure of
a nation? I have already figured out my
own answer to that question, and it is:
No, we are nor. Remember that the
American Century ended on New
Year's Eve of 1999, when most of the
Population was half-mad with fear and
widespread panic over the vaguest of
rumors about a gigantic Power Failure
that would black out at least 80 per-
cent of the country at the exact moment
of midnight, leaving us all complete-
ly blind and freezing with no water
coming out of our pipes and no heat in
the furnace.

Yes, sir, it was going to be the end of
the world. Half of the people with all
the guns, and the other half has all the
money—but they can’t get their hands
оп it because all the vaults are frozen
shut because all the combination locks
depend on electrical circuits, and they
are short-circuited until further notice.
Ho ho. I remember the senseless panic
and fear and dread that was probably
started by Enron and WorldCom and
spread by the FBI and the Pentagon
and the manufacturers of huge home
electrical generators.

Many of my normally smart friends
and neighbors were buying gasoline-
powered electric power plants that were
hideously expensive and profoundly
dangerous to install and operate. Hell, 1
almost bought one myself, but I was too
embarrassed to come out and admit in
public that I was such a rube. In the end,
however, I decided to take my chances
and travel to Cuba for Xmas, where I
stayed at the Hotel Nacional overlook-
ing the sea and the Malecon and just ig-
nored the goddamn thing—and I have
never regretted it.

а 5
I had a long and honorable history with
Richard Nixon. It was clearly antagonis-
tic and occasionally savage on both sides
of the ball—but it never, never got so
brutal that it made me think about run-

ning for president of the USA. That was
out of the question. It is a far, far better
thing, 1 figured, just to run him out of
the White House for reasons of his built-
in anal-compulsive, genetically criminal
personality traits. Why go to all the
trouble and angst of actually running

this country that I have ever seen. If
every Deadhead had voted for presi-
dent in 2000, we would have a differ-
ent country today. Maybe better,
maybe worse, but definitely not the in-
conceivable disaster we have now. No
money, no highways, no railroads, no

I AM PERSONALLY EMBARRASSED BY THE
FASCIST SINK THESE SHIT-EATING GREEDHEADS
FROM TEXAS HAVE PLUNGED US INTO. THOSE
PIGS DESERVE TO BE BOILED IN THEIR OWN OIL.

against him, when it is a lot more func-
tional and permanent simply to put him
on trial in that most public of arenas, the
court of public opinion, and let nature
take its course?

That was 30 years ago, and things
have changed since then. For one, it is
no longer possible to formally run for
president unless you have at least
$1 billion in “sinister political contri-
butions” to grease the wheels of your
“campaign.” That is what it takes to
get elected or—especially—reelected in
this bright new century.

Think of itthis way: There are a lot of
people in this country who could lay
their hands on a billion dollars
today. Hell, Don Johnson
drives around Europe with
$8 billion in the trunk,
bubba. But not one of
them will be inclined to
vote for you or anyone like
you, because you are not
the corrupt little monster
who currently lives in the
White House. You are ob-
viously nor on their side,
and you have nothing to
offer them.

Remembering Nixon
now is like remembering the
Age of Aquarius—free love
and tie-dyed T-shirts. Ho ho. No
more of that bullshit. Things
are different, things have
changed. We live in a new
millennium.

Yes, sir. Hot damn! It’s
about time we woke up
and got rid of that crude,
old-timey Corruption that
has ruined our lives and
caused our children’s brains
to rot.

This is the worst politi-
cal nightmare to erupt in

airlines, no schools, no bridges and no
hope for anything better. That is the
No-Fun Club.

Go down with the ship, sucker. You
are now a dues-paying member of the
No-Fun Club, and your life is getting
worse every day. Hell, if I were 22 years
old in this country today I'd be wearing
earphones too. No news is good news.

Bur wait! Don't touch that dial. I have
incredibly good news for You: This is
your lucky day, numb-nuts, because
there is a plan that will jerk You out of
that horrible rut that you were plunged
into by whores you can never know.

LABOR PARTY

THOUGHT HUNTER THOMPSON WAS JUST A PIONEERING,
SLIGHTLY DERANGED GONZO JOURNALIST?
THINK AGAIN. SOME OF HIS ALTER EGOS:

SPORTSWRITER

EXPERIENCE: Airman Second Class Thompson is sports |

editor of the Eglin Air Force Base newspaper in Florida and |

then takes a job at a Puerto Rican bowling weekly, El Sporti- |

vo, in 1960.

HIGH POINT: ғілусоу assigns Thompson to profile an |

Olympic skier in 1969, and he returns with The Temptations и

of Jean-Claude Killy. the first-ever piece of gonzo journalism.

(We don't print it.) Two years later Sports Illustrated rejects his

feature on а desert motorcycle race, which becomes Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

LOW POINT: Later toils for Disney as a columnist for ESPN.com.

CANDIDATE

EXPERIENCE: In 1970 Thompson runs for sheriff of
Pitkin County, Colorado on the Freak Power ticket. His plat-
form includes changing the name of Aspen—Pitkin's biggest
town—to Fat City.

POINT: Thompson shaves his head and takes to
calling the buzz-cut Republican he is running against his
“long-haired opponent”

LOW POINT: He loses, 1,500 votes to 1,065.

POLITICAL CONSULTANT

#20 EXPERIENCE: In the wake of his classic Fear and
DUKE 00 Loathing: On the Campaign Trail '72, the doctor organizes а
political summit in Elko, Nevada in 1974 to attempt to create
a liberal strategy to take advantage of Richard Nixon's fall.
HIGH POINT: When Jimmy Carter is planning his presi-
dential bid in 1975, the born-again peanut farmer invites
HST to stay at his home in Plains, Georgia.

LOW POINT: Rumors that Governor Carter offered to
scuttle his candidacy in order to support an HST-for-
president campaign prove bogus.

PORN THEATER MANAGER

EXPERIENCE: in 1984 HST moves to San
Francisco's Chinatown and becomes friends
with the notorious Mitchell brothers, producers
of the 1972 porn sensation Behind the Green
Door. Doc lands a graveyard-shift position at
their adults-only O'Farrell Theater.

HIGH POINT: Hunter is so impressed with
the O'Farrell that he describes it as “the Car-
negie Hall of public sex in America”

LOW POINT: Sticky seats.

TV COP SHOW WRITER

1 EXPERIENCE: With neighbor Don Johnson,

Doc co-creates the concept for a TV movie
about an aging San Francisco cop. It becomes
the weekly show Nash Bridges.

HIGH POINT: HST writes an episode called
“Pump Action" about lawbreaking bodybuilders
on powerful illegal steroids.

LOW POINT: Have you seen an episode of
Nash Bridges?

The only way out of the No-Fun Club
is to have some serious fun. Go wild on
a binge of some kind. Kick out the jams
like a crazy animal. Get those shit-
eating cobwebs out of your brain. Kick
the shit out of people who are getting in
your way. Whoop it up.

From my own experience, I'd have to
say that the most fun Lever had with my
clothes on was kicking Nixon out of the
White House. The point is that running
а criminal swine like George W. Bush
out of Washington would be an adult
dose of Fun.

Тат a famously Patriotic American
writer, and I am personally embar-
rassed by the fascist behavioral sink
that these shit-eating greedheads from
Texas have deliberately plunged us in-
to. Those pigs deserve to be boiled in
their own ой.

Whoops! What am I saying? Sorry.
That outburst came out of nowhere.
It just sort of popped out of me. Let's
get back to Richard Nixon and all the
evil eggs he laid in rhe White House:
Rumsfeld... Cheney... Kissinger...
Schlesinger...Admiral Poindexter.
They were all in Nixon’s inner circle
And then Reagan’s. And then Old
Man Bush's. And ye gods!... Now
they are the closest advisors to Bush
Junior. How long, О Lord, how long?

dec

The second half of the American Cen-
tury was almost entirely about the USA
at War—continuous War. We were at
war with the Chinese in what is now
North Korea, and now, 50 years later,
this nation is at War with many coun-
tries/nations/empires/religions/cults/
gangs all over the world except a hand-
ful of poodles in England who will
soon be gone. That much is certain.
Tony Blair's flagrant obedience to the
White House and the Pentagon is an
embarrassment to the human race. His
party is now a cluster of buttboys and
warmongers who long ago sold Eng-
land out to its onetime colony.

Ah, but so what? 1 am wandering
back into politics, which we want to
stay away from for as long as possible,
and that is not very long in this country.
We are a warlike nation that is obsessed
with naked female breasts, and for that
we thank you.

I feel like a charter member of the far-
flung playboy mafia that has literally
grown up with the magazine, part of the

(concluded on page 291)

‘Actually, I think it’s a cluster of SCUD missiles heading our way !”

157

> тыс”

By lauren Weisberger
There's enough repressed sexual energy at work
these days to light up a city. Tap into it and you're fried

“Is Bill there, please?” asks a kindly voice on the phone.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” I reply, making a supreme effort to fake
the same kindness. ^He's out of the office until Thursday.
May 1 take a message?"

“Is this his secretary?" the voice inquires

“No,” I say tightly, tersely, tensely, so indignant you'd
think he'd just called me a hooker. Or a fat hooker. Ora fat
hooker with bad shoes. “This is his assistant. Who may I ask
is calling? And may I have your number, please?”

“Ah, wonderful, dear, wonderful. This is Eric Vahter.” He
barks out a number. "Bill's lucky to have a secretary as de-
tail-oriented as yourself. Thanks for everything.” The bas-
tard hangs up the phone before I can slam it down myself.

I've heard that at some point in the distant past it was ac-
ceptable to call the person who answers the phones and
keeps the schedule and files the folders a “secretary.” And
that men and women—even in boss-subordinate situa-
tions—dated one another in the open without jeopardizing
their jobs. I know all this because a former colleague, an
elegant editor in his 60s, loved to tell me “how it used to
be.” He also swore that at one time women never talked
openly at work about their Brazilian
bikini waxes and that although some
men were suspected of being “fruits,”
they went through the motions of pre-
tending to be straight. How quaint. It
sounds adorable. So Little House on the
Prairie. His stories had that sort of we-
walked-to-school-in-six-feet-of-snow-
uphill-both-ways quality—minor, sexu-
ally charged refrains that seemed
possible but not quite plausible. I
couldn't get enough.

Let's face facts. Office romance is hurting big-time. Surely
it's possible to live in a world without secretaries and gender
inequality while also allowing for serious flirtation. Or is it?
Afer a few years of waking up early and going home late, I
was beginning to think something had gone seriously screwy
on the way to the mandatory sexual-harassment seminar. So
I decided to ask around. First stop, my old colleague's desk.

“So did anyone you know get fired for dating a co-worker?
Any scandal, E! True Hollywood Story-style?” I asked.

He sighed. “There was no official company policy on dat-
ing. Just like there wasn't anything on sexual harassment ог
breast-feeding at your desk. There just weren't that many
women, you know? Executives slept with their secretaries,
and sometimes you grabbed someone's ass in the hallway
and she'd just roll her eyes when you told her she had great
knockers, but everything was rather discreet and all in good
fun. Why? You dating someone here I should know about?”

“Of course not,” I answered automatically. And I wasn't.
Not by choice, of course. I just happened to be on staff at a
magazine where the only men were quick to tel u
whether they were “tops” or “bottoms.” To use my friend’s
immortal word, I was surrounded by fruits.

1 admit the workplace is not the ideal venue for meeting
someone, but there simply aren't that many alternatives.
How can people expect to mect one another these days? Is
a woman prepared to be friendly to a perfect stranger in a
bar? (Only in your fantasies.) Willing to take а stab at online
dating? (Only in my nightmares.) How about taking your
friend’s word that he knows this superhot, amazing girl
who's available? (Best of luck.) Now's the time to stop won-
dering why your friend with the fantastic taste in women
has been dating a shrew for the past two years. Although it's
sad and not a bit pathetic, such is life, and we all learn to
suck it up and scour the break room for potential partners.

For some of us, of course, it's not so easy. When the mail
guy dropped Brad Pitt on my desk, naked from the waist
up and looking very buff (okay, it was the new issue of Van-

ity Fair), 1 squealed like the girl Lam and hugged the maga-
zine to my chest. Frantically I tore through the cubicles,
looking for someone, anyone, who might share with me the
glory that is cover-perfect Brad, but everyone was at lunch.
Not until Fd begun the defeated walk back to my desk did
I remember who would most appreciate it.

“Check. This. Out!” I screamed, waving theissue like a win-
ning lottery ticket. Jake was taller than I and much too quick,
and he snatched it from my hands without even touching me.

"Ohmigod. Ohmigod.” He was swaying back and forth,
eyes a bit glazed and twitching like an autistic savant. “I have
never seen abs like this in my life. Ohmigod.” Deep breath
and then another. “He's delicious," Jake finally decreed.
Then he flopped back into his chair, spent from excitement.
1 then finally accepted that I would never meet a guy at
work for anything more than shopping or decorating tips.

My friend Rachel recently switched from magazines to
banking. I was jealous, and not just because she'd soon be
able to purchase movie tickets without doing a sit-down
budgetary analysis: She was working with straight men.

“Overrated,” she sighed. “All they do is undress you with

their eyes. I can actually feel them looking at my ass.”

It didn't sound so horrific to me. I'd rather have a man
staring lustfully at my body than looking disgustedly at my
new shoes and commenting on my comprehensive lack of
style. Admittedly, Rachel didn’t have it so easy either. She
did manage to meet a guy at work, someone from her firm's
Atlanta office. He was in New York City for a companywide
meeting, and Rachel and he weren't exactly reciting HR
chapter and verse when they fell into bed together after
sneaking away from an official happy hour. After returning
to Atlanta, he sent her peonies and begged her to visit, while
she floated around the office in a love fog and obsessively
checked for flights. It was over within two months. Both had
become almost cripplingly paranoid with the fear of being
discovered. She couldn't Google his entire family or scribble
out her first name with his last: The office gossips might sec.
He hated not being able to call her at work or e-mail her
with the fascinating minutiae of his workday—the tech de-
partment knew everything. The forbidden loses its appeal
rather quickly when everything fun is, well, forbidden.

Sometimes office romances work out—if you define го-
mance as a brief, heated encounter that both parties regret
tremendously within seconds of its finale. In fact, I know of
quite a few success stories. Take my friend in advertising
who swooned for months over her co-worker, dubbed Un-
productive Crush for obvious reasons. As her girlfriends,
we were privy to his every move, e-mailed to us hourly with
painstaking detail: the day he drank tea (not coffee), the way
he let her step off the elevator before him, the time he
walked past her desk on the vay to the bathroom even
though it was out of his way. Then, just like that, he vanished.

“Whatever happened to UC?" I e-mailed when I realized
a few days had passed without a mention

She shot back swifily over IM: "We did it in his office late at
night last week. Nightmare."

"What? Why?"

"Kind of hard to talk memos and meetings with someone

160

who's seen my nipple piercing, you know?”

Well, no, actually I didn’t, but I under-
stood what she was saying. Over. Done. And
for her, it resolved itself as quickly and pain-
lessly as possible: Neither party was curious
anymore, and both pretended the other
wasn't alive. Not so bad compared with an
older friend of mine, someone I'd gone to
school with but who had graduated a few
years earlier. Molly made the poor decision
to actually commit to someone in her office.
And not just someone—her employee.

“Т was so young, so naive,” she sighed
when I asked her to refresh me on the de-
tails. (I didn't remind her that they'd broken
up only eight months earlier.) “You cannot
be ina relationship with someone whose pay
raises you determine. I mean, it's not okay to
reprimand your boyfriend for failing to
meet a deadline—especially when you know
the reason he’s late is because you were the
one keeping him up all night.”

When she did finally break it off—for an-
other co-worker—her entire office took
sides, and most of them sup-
ported her jilted ex. Talk about
awkward. Would it have been
different if he had been the
one in charge? Of course.
Something about working for a
woman still throws some men,
although most are now smart
enough to fake it. I once had a
boyfriend who'd been inter-
viewing for so long and for so
many different positions he
was ready to take anything that
was offered.

“Hi, honey. How'd it go?”

“I got the job,” he said listlessly.

“Congratulations! That's amazing." I
threw my arms around his rigid body. “Why
don't you look more excited?"

“ГЇЇ be working for a woman.” He spoke
in the same tone he had once used to tell
me a friend had been in a car accident.

"Great. That should be fun!" I enthused,
catching myself just as I was about to ask if.
his new boss was prettier than me.

"Fun?"

"Well. why not? I would think you'd be
thrilled not to work with all men."

"Yeah, but she's a chick," he non-sequi-
tured. "How can I be ordered around by a
woman all day? It's emasculating."

Feigning sweetness and sympathy was
getting tiresome, so I pointed out what I
thought was obvious. “Honey, you spent the
first 23 years of your life being ordered
around by your mother, the next three by
your ex-girlfriend—tramp that she was—
and the two since then taking orders from
me. By my calculations, you are the perfect
emasculated man for this job.”

“You have a point,” he conceded.

He got over it, as I knew he would, and
negotiated a friendly, strictly professional (to
the best of my knowledge—and if you know
different, please inform me ASAP) relation-
ship with his female boss. The exact kind of

thing you'd expect to see with a male boss
and his female assistant—or so I thought
until I witnessed my friend Andrew's special
way of communicating.

“Lindsay, send my girl in when you're
done with her,” he called to a female associ-
ate who appeared to be instructing a
younger version of herself. I'd insisted on
picking up Andrew for lunch at his office
(an agency that represents writers, actors
and artists) because I adored watching his
weird and wonderful world of political in-
correctness. It took “his girl” a few minutes
to come around, but when she appeared 1
could see she was worth the wait.

Knockout. Crazy-long legs, tight skirt,
great hair and absolutely enormous breasts,
which she instinctively perched on Andrew's
desk as she took his dictation. I stared at him.
staring at her cleavage until he finally caved.

“Tits off the desk, doll,” he said in an ех-
asperated, why-do-I-always-have-to-be-the-
bad-guy tone.

“But Andrew...,” she smiled coyly, lips
parting to reveal perfectly
whitened teeth.

“Don't Andrew me, darling.
Tits off. Now. I can't concen-
trate," he mumbled, waving
one hand in the direction of
her chest and swiping the oth-
er across his forehead.

“Oh, Andrew!" she giggled
and inched back just enough so
they'd graze the edge of the
mahogany rather than rest on
top of it.

I just stared at him when she
scooted out of earshot. "You're
kidding, right? I did not just witness that.”

He stopped typing and looked up at me
with confusion. “What? Wimess what?”

“Tits off?" I asked, dumbfounded.

“Relax. I'm not sleeping with her. I don't
harass her. I never would. She loves when I
talk to her like that.”

And somehow I knew he was right.

Maybe things were less complicated years
ago. And some things haven't changed—like
the phenomenally useless meetings, the
painfully annoying office kiss ass and the
mind-numbing bureaucracy that defines big
corporations. But with more of us working
longer hours than ever, would it kill them to
add a five o'clock cocktail cart? To let every-
onc under 40 get a few drinks in and take a
shot at an hour’s worth of flirtation each
day? Hell, while you're at it, go ahead and
enclose those cubicles so people can have
some privacy. Everyone knows that if the
boss actually encourages something, no one
will do it anyway. The only alternative these
days is to bag the whole work concept alto-
gether and embrace unemployment's most
wonderful euphemism: freclancing. Then
you can stick to the useless, hopeless, joyless
process of meeting people all by yourself.
Best of luck with that.

DIRTY WORK

Maneuvering the minefield of
sexual harassment laws in today's
office is no easy job. Need a
refresher course? Check off the
most appropriate response to

the following scenarios with
‘Susan, your (incredibly attractive)
fictitious assistant.

1. You start off the day by saying:

(a) “Good morning”

(b) “Good morning, hot stuff”

(d) “I haven't been laid in years.
Years!”

2.10 boost her morale, you say:

(a) “You're doing a great job,
Susan”

(b) “You look nice today, Susan?

(с) “Man, I wish my wife had an
ass like yours.”

(9) “Cheer up, will ya? I'm losing
my erection”

3.It is perfectly acceptable for

you as her supervisor to:

(a) request that she not take
lengthy lunch breaks.

(b) request that she lose those.
party lines, pronto.

(d) demand that she do Kegel
exercises at her desk while you
and your office buddies watch.

4.115 fine for you to send e-mail
with the subject line:
(а) “Please call the branch

manager”

(b) “Had a couple of thoughts
about your hooters.”

(9) "Re: pubic hair policy”

5. You've just given her a raise.

Seal the deal by:

(a) taking her to lunch and telling
her she eamed it.

(b) taking her to an empty parking
Jot and telling her to earn it.

(©) muttering the word anal
every time you pass her in
the hallway.

(6) asking her to teach you how
to do Kegel exercises.

6. She screwed up. You say:

(a) "Please try to make your
reports more detail-oriented”

(b) “This report makes no sense.
Bend over and prepare to be
spanked”

(е) “Your reports would be way
better if you dressed sluttier"

d) "Ouch! Watch the teeth, Bucky”

"Koyerpouuu зате эпох ео ‘aouaywas
ир Зшреај uaaa anok ју Kay zamsuy

“Your husband should be home shortly, Mrs. Simpson.
He's pulling out now.”

hey come over the hills, sacri-
1 fices on their way here to die.
Today is Friday, the 13th of
June. Tonight the moon is full.

They come here covered in decora-
tions. Painted pink and wearing huge
pig snouts, their floppy pink pig ears
towering against the blue sky. They
come, done up with huge yellow bows
made of painted plywood. They come,
painted bright blue and costumed to
look like giant sharks with dorsal fins.
Or painted green and crowded with lit-
tle space aliens, standing around slant-
eyed undera spinning silver radar dish
and flashing colored strobe lights.

They come painted black with ambu-
lance light bars. Or painted with brown
desert camouflage and hand-drawn
cartoons of missiles roaring toward
Arabs riding camels. They come trail-
ing clouds of special effects smoke.
Shooting cannons made from pipe and
blasting black-powder charges.

They come with names like Beaver
Patrol and the Viking and Mean Gang-
Green, from dryland wheat towns such
as Mesa and Cheney and Sprague.
Eighteen sacrifices total, they come
here to die. To die and be reborn. To
be destroyed and be saved and come
back next year.

Tonight is about breaking things and
then fixing them. About having the
power of life and death.

‘They come for what's called the Lind
Combine Demolition Derby.

The where is Lind, Washington. The
town of Lind consists of 462 people in
the dry hills of the eastern reaches of

р Washington state. The town centers
around the Union Grain elevators,
> which run parallel to the Burlington

Northern railroad tracks. The num-
bered streets—First, Second and
Third—also run parallel to the tracks.
The streets that intersect with the

Internecinal harvesters: Beaver Patrol and
Mean Gang-Green prepare to knock headers.

Top, from left: The population of Lind explodes nearly sightfold on de:
the carnage. Bottom, from le!

tracks begin with N Street as you enter town from the west
end. Then comes E Street. Then I Street. All in all the
streets spell out N-E-I-L-S-O-N, the family name of the
brothers James and Dugal, who plotted the town in 1888.

The main intersection at Second and I is lined with two-
story commercial buildings. The biggest building down-
town is the faded pink art deco Phillips Building, home of
the Empire movie theater, closed for decades. The nicest
one is the Whitman Bank Building, brick with the bank’s
name painted in gold on the windows. Next door is the
Hometown Hair salon.

The landscape for a hundred miles in any direction is
sagebrush and tumbleweed, except where the rolling hills
are plowed to raise wheat. There, dust devils spin. Train
tracks connect the tall grain elevators of farm towns such аз
Lind and Odessa and Kahlotus and Ritzville and Wilbur. At
the north end of Lind tower the concrete ruins of the Mil-
waukee Road train trestle, dramatic as a Roman aqueduct.

There's no record of where the name Lind came from.

At the south end of town are the rodeo grounds, where
bleacher seats line three sides of a dirt arena and jackrab-
bits graze in a gravel parking lot, around the dented and
rusting hulks of retired demolition derby contestants.

The what are combines, the big, slow machines used to
harvest wheat. Each combine consists of four wheels: two
huge chest-high wheels in front and two smaller, knec-high
wheels in back. The front wheels drive the machine,
pulling it along. The rear wheels steer. In a pinch—say,
when somebody rips off your rear wheels—you can steer
with your front ones. Those front-drive wheels each have
brakes. To turn right you just stop your right wheel and let
the left keep going. To turn left you do the opposite.

The front of each combine is a wide, low scoop called a
header. It looks a little like the blade on the front of a bull-

tion day; the crew of American Spirit dress
: The Tank goes airborne after a bit from Jaws; the Turtle and Mean Gang-Green put

сазе

т —

combine prior to
e pinch on Beaver Patrol.

dozer, only wider, lower and made of sheet metal. It scoops
up the wheat. From the header the wheat is sieved and
threshed and shot out into a truck. The driver sits up, six
feet off the ground, near the engine. Size- and shapewise,
it looks very much like a man riding a boxy steel elephant.

Here, your header is what you use to pop another guy's
tires. Or rip off his header. Or mangle his drive belts.
That's why, in years past, guys filled their header scoops
with concrete or welded them with layers of battleship plat-
ing or cut them down so they were harder for other com-
bines to hook.

But that's against the rules now. Lots of rules changed
after Frank Bren ran over his own father in 1999, broke his
leg and left one huge front wheel parked on top of him.
Since then Mike Bren has walked with a limp.

This year Frank is driving number 16, a Gleaner CH
painted bright yellow and flapping with American flags
and a huge yellow-ribbon bow cut out of plywood. It's
christened American Spirit, the Yellow Ribbon. “The
adrenaline rush when you're out there, it's just great,
Frank Bren says. "It's not quite as good as sex, but it's
close. You just love that sound of crushing metal."

The rest of the year Bren drives a grain truck. Dryland
wheat ranching means no irrigation and not a lot of mon-

y. In the 1980s town fathers were looking for a way to
raise cash for Lind's 100th birthday. According to Mark
Schoesler, the driver of number 11, a 1965 Massey Super
92 combine painted green and christened the Turtle, “Bill
Loomis of Loomis Truck and Tractor was the instigator. He
gave guys old combines. He sold them cheap. Traded
them. Just whatever kind of deal it took, he helped them
They did so incredibly well that they couldn't quit.”

Now, for the 15th year, some 3,000 people will show up
and pay 10 bucks apiece to watch Schoesler ram his com-

bine into 17 others, again and again for four hours, until
only one still runs.

The rules: Your header must be at least 16 inches above
the ground. You can carry only five gallons of gas, and
your gas tank must be sheltered in the bulk tank used for
wheat at the center of each combine. You can use up to 10
pieces of angle iron to reinforce your rig. You must remove
any glass from the cab. You can't fill your tires with calcium
or cement for better traction. You must be at least 18 years
old and wear a helmet and a seat belt. Your combine must
be at least 25 years old. You must pay a $50 entry fee.

The judges give each driver a red flag to fly while he's
sull in the derby. “You just pull your flag and you're
done," says 18-year-old Jared Davis, driver of number 15,
a McCormick 151. “If your combine breaks down and it's
not running anymore and you just can't move, they give
you a certain amount of time and you just pull your flag
and you're done." On the back end of Davis's number 15
is a hand-drawn cartoon of a mouse flipping the bird.
Number 15 is christened Mickie Mouse.

Davis says, "These are just normal people out there for
the fun of it. Just everyday working people. You get frus-
trations out, and you get to crash shit

Despite all the rules, you can still drink. Tipping back a
can of Coors, Davis says, “If you can walk, you can drive.”

In the grassy pit crew area behind the rodeo arena, Mike
Hardung is here for his third year, driving Mean Gang-
Green, a 1973 John Deere 7700. “My wife worries about
me doing this, but I do a lot of crazy things,” Hardung says.
“Like race lawn mowers—riding lawn mowers. It's a pretty
big deal. It's the North West Lawnmower Racing Associa-
tion. We get up to 40 miles an hour on riding lawn mowers.”

About combine demolition, sitting up that high and
crashing a mountain of steel, Hardung says, "It's chaotic.
You don't know where you're at. You've really got to watch
the weak spots, like the rear end of the combine and the
tires. Then just go for the gusto and nail ‘em. I'm a hitter.”

Pointing out the pulleys and belts that link the engine
and the front axle, Hardung says, “You have to protect
your drive system so somebody can't get in there. If I tear
off a belt I'm don

Some combines have hydrostatic drives, no gearshifts, he
says. The harder you push the lever, the faster the rig goes.
Other combines have manual transmissions. Those drivers
swear by a clutch and gearshift. Some swear by not drink-
ing before the event. Everyone has a different strategy.

“I go out there,” Hardung says. “I scope it out. Attack
the bad guys. Leave the littler guys alone—unless they at-
tack me first.”

He says, “You sce tires pop out there. We hit so hard we
tear the headers off the front of combines or the rear ends
off. A couple years ago we tipped one over on its side.”

To repair the damage between heats, Hardung and his
pit crew for Mean Gang-Green have brought along extra
parts and supplies. Combine rear ends. Axles. Tires.
Wheels. Welders. Cranes. Grinders. And beer.

“If farming gets any worse,” Hardung s
to bring my new combines over.”

When asked whom he's most worried about, Hardung
points to a huge combine, painted blue with a dorsal fin
rising out of the top. It has large white teeth and a stuffed
dummy that's half eaten and hanging out of the mouth of
the header. Painted on the front in big black lette

“ГІ be watching out for Jaws,”
because he's a hillside combine, and he's got this extra iron
inside. And cast wheels. He's tough."

Josh Knodel is a rookie driver, 18 years old. Since he was
14, he and his friend Matt Miller have been bringing and

I'm going

SMASH HITS

When ABC's Wide World of Sports aired its first
demolition derby in 1963, it became a cult craze.
And like other American classics, it has spawned
some bizarre variations

SCHOOL BUS E
CRASHING

RULES: Buses rattle
around a figure-eight
course at well over 60
mph, smashing grilles
and rolling frequently.
The driver who com-
pletes the most Isps in
а зе time wins. It's like
the Isst day of school, the way you slways dresmed of it!
BIG EVENT: Crash-O-Rsms at the Orlsndo Speed World
features up to 25 real bus drivers in souped-up besuties,
bsttling for a meager purse. “Parents come up to me efter e
race," says perennial competitor Benjamin Crsft, "end tell
me, ‘I totally trust you with my son or daughter now.”

MOTORCYCLE
SMASHING

RULES: This "dirt bsth
of creshing metsl," es
one motorcycle de-
molition contestent
once put it, pits riders
against each other in
a bull or rodeo ring.
The goel: Knock the
other guy off his bike before he does the same to you. Last
man on his bike wins. At some events, competitors carry
Wiffle bats; brswis are frequent. According to one sports-
writer's eccount of a recent Virginia event, it's "ridiculous,
amazingly dumb, makes pro rasslin' look highbrow."

BIG EVENT: Motorcycle derbies ere small, regional and
violent. (Just sign the waiver right here, mister.")

FOOTBALL Г
BASHING

RULES: Stock Cer
Football is just like the
NFL, only with three
cars on each side and

e six-foot, 250-pound
foam rubber ball. Each
team tries to push the
bell over the other
teem's end-zone line. "Cars get turned over all the time,”
says W. Jay Milligen Sr., who heeds JM Productions, the
company thet invented the sport in 1994. "It's all ebout
brute-force driving skills.”

BIG EVENT: Milligsn puts on 68 tournsments a yesr ecross
the Northeast, with 10 teams of locsis bsttling at each.

BRIT
TRASHING

RULES: Benger rac-
ing, the British equiv-
alent of demolition
derby, is a full-contect
race sround a trsck,
the winner being the
guy who tellies the
most Isps. The cetch:
“You remember the дете ‘kill the guy with the ball’? The
leader is the guy with the bsll," seys Sam Dsrgo, president
of the Internationel Demolition Derby Association.

BIG EVENT: The Spedeworth World Chsmpionships is
held in Wimbledon, U.K. every November on e dirt dog-
recing track. Sadly, the grass courts are out-of-bounds.

Left: Within sight of a loci

jarm, the Viking and Little Green Men struggle to survive in their new roles as mechanized agents of destruction.

Right: Perhaps the grimmest reaper of them all is the heavy-duty tow truck—the remains of a defeated combine are hauled оН the field of battle.

repairing Jaws, a John Deere 6602 combine, and their fa-
thers have driven it for them. Their first and second years,
they took home the top prize. Last year they stopped dead
with a blown front tire and only three combines left to beat.
"There's not much you can do to protect the tire itself,”
Knodel says. “The main thing I need to be careful of is not
to get pinned, not to get where a combine locks me in from
behind so somebody can then just hammer at my tires. Гуе
got to try to stay out and move or else ГИ get held up.”
He says, “First, I'm going to try to get everybody in the
dirt. Û hit them in the back tires, try to knock their wheels
out. You get down in the dirt like thatand you're not near-
ly as fast or agile. You lose a lot of control. You lose a tire al-
together, and your whole rear end is just pushing in the
dirt. Sometimes your rims even get ripped off and your
whole ass end will be dragging in the dirt.
“I'm mainly excited,” Knodel says. "I've
been wanting to do this forever. Today's the
day. But I've got butterflies. Last night it was
tough to go to sleep." He says, “I can't re-
member missing a derby. It’s derby time
around our house. We've always come to
town for the rodeo and the combine derby.
This is a dream come true, definitely, being
able to drive tonight. There’s $300 if you
win your heat. If you get second place in
your heat, $200. Third place, you get $100.
But if you win the whole derby, it’s $1,000.
There's definitely some prize money.
"There's no insurance," Knodel adds.
“We don't sign anything, which is amazing. You'd think
the Lions Club would have us sign something saying that
if somebody gets hurt they're not liable, but 1 didn't sign
anything. All of us out here, we're here to have fun. We
realize we're at our own risk."

‘The grandstands are filling up. A long string of cars and
trucks is pulling into the gravel parking lot. A water truck
is wetting down the dirt in the rodeo arena.

At the beginning of the derby, the combines enter the
arena and park in two long rows. As they wait, the crowd
stands. The Lind rodeo queen for the third year running,
Bethany Thompson, wearing red, white and blue sequins
and holding an American flag, gallops on her horse faster
and faster around the assembled combines. As Thompson
gains speed, her flag snapping in the wind, the combine
drivers stand with their right hands over their hearts, and
the 3,000 onlookers recite the pledge of allegiance. People
visiting here from the city get slapped or punched in the
back and yelled at for not taking off their hats.

“I get to go
out there

and beat the
shit out of
people
for fun.”

The derby consists of four heats: The first is for drivers
who have competed here before, the second is for rookies,
the third is another for experienced drivers, and the
fourth begins with a consolation round for all the losing
combines that can still run. After the fight, the winners
from the first three heats enter the arena, and everyone
still moving—winners and losers—fights to the death.

After the pledge, a judge reads a tribute written by driver
Casey Neilson and the crew of combine number nine, a
1972 McCormick International 503 with an ambulance light
bar spinning red and blue lights on top. Neilson's good-luck
charm is the Afro wig he always wears while driving. People
call him Afro Man. He calls his combine Rambulance.

Over the loudspeaker you hear: “The crew of Odessa
‘Trading Company would like to take a moment to thank
the men and women of EMS and local vol-
unteer fire departments for all their hard
work and dedication. If it weren't for you,
some of us would not be here.”

All but six combines leave the arena, and
the first heat begins.

Over the loudspeaker, a judge says,
“Lord, help us have a good show and a safe
show tonight.”

Right off the bat, Mark Schoesler, in the
Turtle, loses a rear tire. Mean Gang-Green
and J&M Fabrication butt headers. The BC
Machine, the Silver Bullet and Beaver Patrol
throw dirt in the air, chasing one another in
a circle. The engines roar, and you breathe
in the exhaust. Mean Gang-Green's rear tire gets popped.
ЈЕМ Fabrication’s rear tire gets popped, and the driver,
Justin Miller, looks to be in trouble, stuck in one place and
ducking down, disappearing into the engine compartment
of his combine. The Silver Bullet is stopped dead and de-
clared out by a judge, and driver Mike Longmeier drops
his red flag. Beaver Patrol has a rear wheel completely torn
off, then its rear axle, but it keeps going, dragging itself
through the dirt with just its front wheels. Then Red Light-
nin’ crushes Beaver Patrol's rear end. The engine housing
pops open on Mean Gang-Green, and smoke pours out.
Red Lightnin's engine catches fire. J&M Fabrication comes
back to life, Miller reappearing in the driver's scat. Beaver
Patrol drags along in the dirt. J&M rips the rear end off the
Turtle. The beer keg falls off Mean Gang-Green. The rear
axle rips off the Turtle. And Miller is stopped dead again
The judges wave the Turtle out, and Schoesler drops his
red flag. J&M Fabrication is out, Beaver Patrol is out, and
Mean Gang-Green is the winner.

In the pit the crew swarms J&M Fabrication, hammering
and grinding metal. Welding (continued on page 186)

2а

“Care to join in а reindeer game?”

167

PLAYBOY'S 50th ANNIVERS

COLLEEN SHANNON TURNS
THE BEAT—AND HEADS—AROUND

JA he exhaustive search for our
50th Anniversary Playmate
took us all over North Ame:

О са, as we feverishly collected
A test shots of nearly 10,000
hopefuls. This Miss January not
only needed to shine alongside the
classic beauties of PLAYBOY's past
but also had to represent the ideal
for the next half century of Cen-
terfolds. Three lucky screeners
picked the finalists, leaving 50 gor-
geous ladies for Hef's perusal.
When we finally tell 25-year-old
Alaska native Colleen Shannon

that she has won the title, she re-
sponds with gracious words: “I
feel blessed, because I wanted to
bea part of PLAYBOY for the longest
time,” she says. “I had a friend
whose dad collected all the issues
from the 1970s and 1980s. The girls
in them were so beautiful, so classy.
Now everything that I wished for
has happened. It's so surreal.”
Colleen moved to California 10
years ago after a childhood spent
on one of Alaska's tiny Aleutian Is-
lands. “I lived on a fishing boat
while my dad built a beautiful
house for us on Pelican Island,
where about 300 people live,” she
says. “There were no cars, no
fruit—we had to drink Tang and
powdered milk. It was wild.”
Though Miss January now re-
sides in more cosmopolitan Los
Angeles, she hasn't necessarily giv-
en up the wild life. You may recog-
nize Colleen from music videos by
Crazy Town, Blues Traveler and
Smash Mouth. She also keeps the
music pumping as a DJ spinning
at L.A. clubs and as a guest DJ at
events like MTV's spring break
special in Cancün. “A few years
ago my boyfriend at the time
gave mea hundred records, and I

Our 50% Anniversary Playmate re-
семез $50,000 and a BMW R 1150 R
Rockster matarcycle, which cauld toke
Colleen a lang way an the open road
^| don't have many relatives in Alaska
anymare, but | lave to travel there,” she
says. “I want to go on a fishing trip near
the Aleutian Islands, where | grew up.”

PHOTOGRAPHY BY ARNY
FREYTAG AND STEPHEN WAYD,

borrowed my friend's tur
table and started playing
around," she says. "Music is
the only thing that has ever
given me chills through my
body. I change my style every
year, so I don't specialize in
one type of music. I've done
hip-hop, jungle, disco, reggae
and techno. There are so
many different ways you can
blend music. If you feel it, the
people on the dance floor are
going to feel it.”

Colleen is taking psychology
classes, and in her spare time
she likes to wakeboard and
snowboard or comb vintage
record stores to add to her for-
midable vinyl collection. She's
got the beat, and she wants her
men to pick it up, too. "Ifa guy
doesn't like music, it kind of
puts a damper on things,” she
says. "It's nice to sit in some-
one's room and play records
for a guy who is going to like
them. I'm looking for a man
who is fun and spontaneous—
someone who won't take me
out on a date and make me
think about where to go. I like
aman witha plan, for sure.”

As the 50th Anniversary
Playmate, Colleen’s plan is to

keep dancing to her own

rhythm. “Everyone is put
here to do something,” she
says. “Your subconscious tells
you the things that you love
to do, but a lot of people put
those things aside. I think if
you stick to the things you
love, nine times out of 10,
circumstances are going to
go your way and you will live
a happy life.

Colleen pleases ears ond eyes
when she deejays. So da guys
ever make a mave while she's
making graaves? "I have three
minutes per song, sa there really
isn't a chance ta talk,” she says.
"But I'm very friendly when I get
recognized autside af wark.”

PLAYMATE DATA SHEET

NAME: Coleat Sharad
Ee PÊ Une 55. HIPS: 24
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HEIGHT:

BIRTH DATE: ۵
AMBITIONS: паем YY) teat
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TURNOFFS:

FIVE CDS I DON’T GO TO WORK WITHOUT:.
- B ~

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IF I HAD MORE TIME, I WOULD:

FAVORITE о MEM PIZZA, CANDY.

THE MOST UNUSUAL PLACE I’VE HAD SEX:

0000
A PERSON I'D LOVE TO MEET: ei Lo Lope
-

ғай OE М gol ager

PLAYBOY’S CLASSIC PARTY JOKES

Bronne JOKE OF THE MONTH: À postcard from
a blonde friend on vacation read, "Having a
wonderful time. Where am 1?”

When the school bus stopped at a backwoods
junction, a third grader jumped down the
steps and ran toward his mom, yelling, “Mama,
Mama, we went swimmin’ today.”

“That's nice, Jethro,” the mother replied.

“And guess what,” Jethro said. “I got me the
biggest pecker in the whole third grade!”

She replied, “Well, I reckon it's ‘cause yer
17, Jethro.”

A woman was making last-minute prepara-
tions for a gala dinner she and her husband
were throwing at their new Malibu beach
house when she realized she had forgotten to
purchase escargots. “Will you run down to the
beach and get some snails?” she asked.

Her husband took a pail and started walk-
ing along the shore. Before long he noticed a
beautiful bikini-clad woman strolling in his
direction. Much to his surprise she stopped
and began talking with him. Eventually their
conversation took a personal turn, and she
invited him back to her house. An intense
mutual attraction drew them to her bedroom,
where they made love so enthusiastically that
afterward the man fell into a deep sleep.
When he woke, he was horrified to see that it
was seven o'clock in the morning. Throwing
on his clothes and grabbing the pail, he
sprinted down the beach to his house, where
he took the steps two at a time. On the last one
he tipped and went flying, spilling the pail's
contents. His enraged wife yanked open the
door. The man looked at the snails scattered
all over the cedar deck, then at his wife and
then back at the snails. “Come on, guys,” he
gasped, "we're almost there.”

When Bill Clinton was still president, an aide
placed a piece of paper on his desk. “What is
that?” Clinton asked

“It's an abortion bill, Mr. President,” the
aide said.

Clinton replied, “All right, just go ahead
and pay it.”

A female police officer arrested a guy for
drunk driving. She said, “Anything you say can
and will be held against you.”

The inebriated man shouted out, “Tits!”

When a Las Vegas vacationer won $500 at the
tables, he visited the best hooker in town. “Two
hundred and fifty dollars for a blow job,” she
told him.

“Two hundred and fifty?” he asked.

“Look,” she said, pointing out the window.
“Do you see that BMW in the parking lot? I
paid cash for it because I give the best blow
jobs in town."

So the man paid her the money. He was not
disappointed. The next day the man won
$1,000 and sought out the same hooker. "I
want to have anal sex," he How much?"

"Five hundred," she said. "See that pent-
house over there? I own it because I have the
best ass in town."

"The man paid and was not disappointed.
The following evening he visited her again and
said, “Т just want some pussy today.”

“See that shopping center over there?” she
asked.

“Don't tell me you own that, too,” he said.

“No,” she replied. “But I would if 1 had a

pussy.”

Two old men were talking on a park bench.
After a while one said, “By the way, how's your
wile?”

“I think she's dead.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the sex is the same, but the dishes are

piling up.”

Striking out again at the town dance, a man
began to walk back to his farmhouse. The guy
passed a field of pumpkins that reminded him
of shapely bare asses. Settling down next to
one pumpkin, he cut a hole in it and began to
enjoy himself. “Hey, pal,” a voice said, “what
the hell are you doing with that pumpkin?”

Thinking quickly, the man blurted, “Pump-
kin? Shit, is it midnight already?"

The soused spouse asked, “You want to know
why I've come home half loaded? Because 1
ran out of money, that's why."

Send your jokes to Party екш тауда ср
Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10019, or by
e-mail to jokes@playboy.com. $100 will be paid to
the contributor whose submission is selected. Sorry,
jokes cannot be returned.

“Be a doll, sweetheart, and print me out a list of the things I should
be thankful for this year.”

181

182

Sex

ALFRED C. KINSEY STUDIED OUR KINKS AND PERVERSITIES,
TOOK THEM PUBLIC AND ASTONISHED AMERICA. BUT
AS IT TURNS OUT, HE KEPT THE BEST STUFF TO HIMSELF

Dr. Sex. That was what they called
Alfred C. Kinsey, professor of zoology,
around the Indiana University campus in
the 1940s and 1950s. As in, *There goes
Dr. Sex in his secondhand Buick, with
his wife beside him and his kids in the
back," or *Look, there's Dr. Sex in his
barely visible skin-colored shorts (and
nothing else), roasting wienies over a fire
in the park."

Kinsey was an entomologist, and he'd
made his reputation—and acquired his
tenure—as the world’s foremost expert on
the gall wasp, those tiny cynipids that
produce galls or blisters on oaks and
rosebushes, but in the late 1930s he
discovered his true life’s calling: sex. His
career as a sexologist began in 1938, when
he was in his 40s and had accomplished
about all he could with his gall wasps and
was looking for some other outlet for his
uncontainable energy. In those days, sex
was little discussed or studied in the uni-
versity, aside from the bland, euphemistic
“Marriage and Family” courses that did
more to obfuscate the subject than cast
light on it. College students around the
country, alarmed by the VD epidemic of
the 1930s, had been clamoring for courses
that were frank and informative, courses

that illuminated the mechanics of sex, dis-
ease and contraception, and at IU Kinsey
took up the challenge.

Kinsey’s marriage course was open
only to seniors, faculty and students
who were married or engaged, and it
comprised 11 lectures in all—five on the
social, legal, psychological and religious
facets of marriage, the remaining six on
the physiology of sexual behavior in the
“human animal,” as Kinsey liked to
refer to us Homo sapiens. Kinsey electri-
fied the assembled students by announc-
ing at the outset that there were only
three types of sexual abnormality—ab-
stinence, celibacy and delayed mar-
riage—and he absolutely stunned them
by showing slides of sexual intercourse,
the erect phallus and the moist and glis-
tening vagina awaiting it, all while lec-
turing on about vasoconstriction and
clitoral stimulation in the driest, unmod-
ulated scientist’s voice. The course was a
sensation. Hundreds of students, eager
to hear about the sexual outlets avail-
able to them (such as petting to orgasm,
which the good doctor described at
length in his neutral tones), signed up,
any number of them claiming to be en-
gaged so as to pass muster.

And here’s where it got interesting. In-
evitably, students from the course began
to come to Kinsey for advice on sexual
matters, and he became privy not only to
their fears and concerns but to their sexu-
al histories as well, and those histories, as
might be expected, ran the gamut from
militant virginity to the widest range of

SEXUAL У
BEHAVIOR

in ИЕ

HUMAN
MALE

RIKES AGAIN.

NCILS! 1

184

behavior possible. What amazed Kinsey
the taxonomist was not only the varia-
tion in experience and behavior but the
fact that we knew more about the sex
lives of farm animals and the fruit fly
(Drosophila melanogaster) than that of
humans. As a result, he hit on the idea
of doing a far-reaching survey of human
sexuality in order to correct for this defi-
ciency. The rest is history.

Before his death in 1956, Kinsey and
his senior staff—Clyde Martin, Wardell
Pomeroy and Paul Gebhard—con-
ducted some 18,000 face-to-face in-
terviews with people from all walks
of life, accumulating data about their
sexual behavior. The typical inter-
view, during which Kinsey and his
staff tried to put the subject at ease by
providing cigarettes, soft drinks and,
in the appropriate venues, liquor,
consisted of 350 questions and took
approximately two hours to com-
plete. Kinsey was a master at draw-
ing people out so that they revealed
their deepest secrets, and he could in-
variably tell if someone was lying ог
holding something back. (On one occa-
sion he easily exposed a fraud who'd been
sent to undermine the credibility of the
survey by reporting a false history.) Most
subjects, however, were glad for the
chance both to unburden themselves and
to contribute to science, and Kinscy duly.
recorded their responses. The result of all
this was two groundbreaking volumes,
Sexual Behavior in the Human Male,
which appeared in 1948 and was the

biggest best-seller since Gone With the
Wind, and its companion volume, Sexual
Behavior in tbe Human Female, pub-
lished five years later and equally popular.

Certainly the books were controversial.
Kinsey's critics attacked him on both
moral and technical grounds—he was un-
dermining the institution of marriage,
advocating free love, normalizing homo-
sexuality; his statistical analyses were
flawed and his samples skewed—but the
books bad an enormous impact noncthe-

less. By demonstrating the variety of hu-
man sexual activity, Kinsey was able to as-
sert that there is no “normal” behavior,
and this did open society up to a less prej-
udicial view of certain sexual practices. To
Kinsey, all sex acts between consenting
parties were equal and equally valid, and
though he presented himself as a disinter-
ested scientist, he was in fact a reformer
out of the Progressive Era and an advo-
cate for sex. His studies helped give rise to

the sexual freedom of the 1960s, to the
live observation of sexual activity by Mas-
ters and Johnson and others, to the re-
scinding of various laws restricting sexual
behavior (witness the recent Supreme
Court decision regarding sodomy laws)
and to a freedom and frankness in the
press hitherto unknown. Indeed, Hugh
Hefner has cited Kinsey as one of his chief
inspirations in launching PLAYBOY.

Kinsey's name and the shorthand title
the press gave his two volumes, “The
Kinsey Report,” loom large in our
recent history. According to his most
recent biographers, James H. Jones
and Jonathan Gathorne-Hardy,
Kinsey was the single most recogniz-
able figure in America in 1953 but
for the president himself. Popular
songs were written about him—
“The Kinsey Boogie” and “Ooh, Dr.
Kinsey,” to name rwo—and he was
the subject of endless editorials and
cartoons. The institute he founded—
originally the Institute for Sex Re-
search and now simply the Kinsey
Institure—is still going strong. Still,
most Americans know little about him or
his research. All of this happened a long,
time ago, and we've all moved on.

In fact, Kinsey was to me no more than
а name floating in the ether until 1 came
across David Halberstam’s concise ac-
count of Kinsey’s career in The Fifties, his
1993 social history of the period. My in-
terest was piqued—here was a man who
took a purely mechanistic and biological
view of human sexuality, absent the emo-

tional factors or any stich notional bag-
gage as love and romance, once famously
averting that the poets had 2,000 years to
talk of love and that now it was the biol-
ogists’ turn to examine its psychological
basis—and I sought out the four extant
biographies, after which I made a pil-
grimage to Bloomington, Indiana to visit
the institute and learn as much as I could.
The result is my 10th novel, The Inner
Circle, which makes use of Kinsey's stud-
ies—and the details of Kinsey's life—to
create a fictional scenario exploring the
sociology of love, marriage and sex.

Bur this all sounds a bit too abstract.
Let me give you an idea of how rich the
material is. Before getting us into the
truly significant accomplishment of Sexu-
al Behavior in the Human Female, the
sections on anatomy and physiology of
sexual response and orgasm, Kinsey pro-
vides a 224-item alphabetized list of the
various professions of his female subjects.
A selection: acrobat, actress, art critic,
cigarette girl, circus rider, claims adjuster,
dice girl, Girl Scour executive, glass-
blower, inventor, laundress, osteopath,
packer, prostitute, taxi dancer, tutor, typ-
ist, WAVE, weaver, welder and window
decorator. The man was thorough, no
doubt about it, and he was obsessive
about his work. He drove himself contin-
ually, dashing all over the country to lec-
ture and record interviews, haunting
bathhouses and patrolling the streets into
the wee hours, working 16- and 18-hour
days to the point of exhaustion (which
contributed to the heart failure that killed
him at the age of 62). As his wife, Clara,
said: “Since he took up sex, | hardly see
him at night anymore.”

What is even more fascinating to a nov-
elist—to this novelist—was Kinsey's se-
cret life. Everything he accomplished was
dependent upon his image as an unbiased
scientist and happily married family man
(and he insisted that his senior staff be
happily married family men as well), and
yet behind closed doors he was a sexual
enthusiast of the first order. Inevitably, for
a scientist, the mere recording of people’s
sexual histories would prove limiting—as
opposed to direct observation, that is.
And so, unbeknownst to the stirring and
hypercritical world that would have
brought him down in a heartbeat, he be-
gan to engage in the staging and filming of
live sex, both heterosexual and homosex
ual. With the royalties from the male vol-
ume pouring into the institute's coffers, he
was able nor only to expand his erotica
collection but to purchase the finest
moviemaking equipment and take on a
full-time photographer as well.

Secretly, in the attic of his house, he con-
vened the members of his inner circle and
their wives and encouraged them to perform
in various combinations, as he and his wife
performed themselves, even as he sought out
male homosexuals, sadomasochists and a
select group of highly sexed females to par-
ticipate as “friends of the research.” (He
used the phrase high raters to describe such
females, once dryly informing a scandalized
woman who had used the term mymphoma-
niacthat a nymphomaniac is simply someone
who has more sex than you do.) Memo-
rably, too, he filmed some 1,000 men in the
act of masturbation in order to settle the de-
bate over whether the majority spurted or
dribbled, as the medical literature of the
time insisted that men must spurt in order
for reproduction to occur. His conclusion?
Seventy-three percent were dribblers.

Kinsey is nor withour his critics today.
Some claim that his enthusiasm for sexual
activity of all kinds and with all partners
blinded him to some of the potential abuses,
specifically with regard to children. One of
the most arresting—and highest-rating—
contributors to Kinsey’s survey was a man
known only as Mr. X, whose detailed diaries
record his sexual relations with 600 preado-
lescent males and 200 preadolescent fe-
males, including infants, as well as sex with
hundreds of adults, various species of ani-
mals and 17 of his own family members, in-
cluding his father and grandmother. Kinsey's
response? He claimed repeatedly that his
function was not to make moral judgments
but to record behavior, And that was what
he did, obsessively, always hor on the trail of
one more history, one more sheet of data to
add to his ever-accumulating files.

Certainly love and sex are more closely
linked than Kinsey cared to admit, but is
sex better if love is involved? Or is the no-
tion of love purely hormonal, as is the urge
to procreate and so engage in sex in the first
place? Kinsey was a biologist, an empiri-
cist, a Darwinian. For him, notions of love
were extraneous to the physiology of
arousal and the stimulation of the penis
and clitoris and the various transforma-
tions that occur in our bodies as we engage
in sexual activity (rhe swelling of our lips
andnipples, for instance, the contraction of
the levator ani muscles in the female and
our indifference to environmental stimuli
in the heat of the moment). As we map the
human genome, it has become increasingly
apparent that our behaviors—social as well
as biological—are perhaps more predeter-
mined than we may want to admit. Love? 1
don't know. But if it feels good, do it.
"That's what Dr. Sex would say.

PLAYBOY

186

DEMOLITION „аво

“What are the groupies like? First of all, she’s kind
of a hick. Cowboy boots and shit like that.”

sparks fly. Flat tires get changed.
J&M's Miller, headed to the conso-
lation round, says, “I don’t care who
wins as long as we can hit as hard as
we can for as long as we can.”

Describing the best way to hit, he
says, “I use the brakes. On these com-
bines there’s a brake for each side, so
if you lock one of them up you can
spin around and get that one end
of the header going. It'll be going five,
six times as fast as the combine,
and when you hit somebody right on
the corner, it does a lot of damage
to their machine.”

You swing your header, he says, like
а windmill punch.

“It will blow that tire. It will break
that wheel right off. That header can
be traveling 20, 25 miles an hour. It
makes a boom. It'll lift the ass end of
the combine right off the ground.
The ass end, it'll be one, two feet off
the ground."

Between heats a forklift and a tow
truck enter the arena and clear away
the dead—the busted angle iron
and crushed headers. Rodeo queen
Thompson throws T-shirts into the
audience. The beer flows.

Back in the pit area, rookie drivers
like Davis and Knodel, all of them col-
lege age except Garry Bittick, driving
the Tank, line up for their heat.

Within the first minute, Jeff Yerbich
and his Devastating Deere are dead,
the result of two popped rear tires.
Little Green Men rams the Tank, tilt-
ing the combine so high it almost top-
ples over backward. Jaws loses a rear
wheel. Mickie Mouse has its header
crushed and wadded up like tinfoil.
The Tank stops dead and drops its
red flag. Jaws chases Mickie Mouse in
a circle. Knodel drives his header into
the Mouse's front tires, popping
them. With the Mouse stopped, Jaws
keeps ramming it until the judges
make the dead combine drop its flag.
Jaws loses a rear tire but drags itself
along. The Viking is dead. The Tank
has its header ripped off. Time runs
out, leaving Jaws and Little Green
Men tied as the winners.

In the pit area Bittick is recovering
from nearly toppling under the five
tons of number five, the Tank. At 47
years old, he’s getting into the rookie
game a little late. His son Cody was
supposed to be home from the Army to
drive but had run out of leave time. In-
stead, Cody sent the flags—an Army

82nd Airborne flag, an MIA flag and a
U.S. Army flag—that fly on the Inter-
national Harvester combine, the one
painted with desert camouflage and
cartoons of camel-riding Arabs being
chased by cruise missiles.

“It was just a lot of hard hits, every-
body hitting at one time, head-on,"
Bittick says. “Of course, the tail end
of my machine came up and tipped
my header off, and we broke down.
We could have flipped over.” He says,
“It gets your heart pumping. Withouta
seat belt itll kick you right out of there.”

For first-timers Davis and Knodel, it
was a carnival fun ride. "It was great. It
was funner than hell,” says Davis, hold-
ing a beer can in one hand while his
crew preps Mickie Mouse for the con-
solation round. “I got to go out there
and beat the shit out of people for fun.”

For Knodel and Jaws, tying for first
was a little more work. “It was way
more than I expected,” Knodel says. “I
didn’t think I was going to have to con-
centrate as hard as I did. I was sweat-
ing very hard up there."

One of the few drivers not drinking
beer or vodka, Knodel describes how it
feels to be high up in the middle of the
dust and the cheering: “Actually, you
don't hear anything. I couldn't hear
the crowd. The only thing I could hear
was my engine. My engine actually
powered out on me. I was going, and 1
couldn't hear that my engine had
stopped. With the adrenaline pump-
ing, I was still looking for somebody to
come get me. The only way I knew I
had the engine fired back up was that I
could look over and see the fan blades,
and finally I saw them spinning again.
"Then I was ready to go."

In the third heat the combines start out
parked with their rear ends together,
facing outward like the spokes in a
wheel. Among another set of experi-
enced drivers, Rambulance slices a rear
tire of Good OF Boys. Porker Express
rips the rear end off BC Machine.
Good ОГ Boys crushes the rear end of
American Spirit, shattering its rear
axle. Porker Express loses its rear axle
tie rods and steering. American Spirit
digs itself too deep into the dirt and
drops its flag, dead. Porker Express
locks its header under the rear end of
Rambulance. BC Machine is stopped
with its engine cover open and smok-
ing; a moment later Chet Bauermeister

gets it going again. Porker Express gets
crushed between Good ОГ Boys and
BC Machine. Good ОГ Boys loses both
rear tires but keeps going on the rims.
BC Machine is dead again. Good ОГ
Boys rams Porker Express from behind,
driving its pink rear end into the dirt.
Good ОГ Boys gets to work, ramming
BC Machine. Porker Express is dead.
Rambulance is dead. Good ОГ Boys
shoves BC Machine in circles until
Bauermeister drops his flag. Good OF
Boys driver Kyle Cordill is the winner.

In the pit area, winning and losing
teams repair their combines for the fi-
nal heat. The welding rods, cutting
torches and grinders shower sparks
into the dry grass, and people chase
the little wildfires, putting them out
with cans of beer. Barbecues grill hot
dogs and hamburgers. Kids and dogs
roam around on combines tilted and
balanced on jacks.

Near number 17, Little Green Men,
a group of girls drinks beer and eyes
driver Kevin Cochrane.

Twenty years old, Cochrane says,
“Yeah, there are combine demolition
groupies. I don’t think there are
groupies from Lind, but they're from
other towns. They kind of follow the
little circuit, I think. There are only
two derbies, so that's a little circuit.”

Cochrane looks at the girls as one of
them leaves her friends and heads
over. “What are the groupies like? First
of all," he says, “she's kind of a hick.
Cowboy boots and shit like that. Kind
of just the country way, but not like
her." He nods as the girl walks up. Her
name is Megan Wills. When asked why
there are no women drivers, she says,
"Because it's fucked! Josh got his ass
kicked!"

“There used to be women drivers,”
Cochrane says.

"One! A long time ago!" shouts Wills,
whose brother is on the pit crew for
number 14, Beaver Patrol. "There's no
women driving because that shit's
fucked-up! I'm not going to take my
ass in there. Fuck that! I'd rather get
drunk and service all the hotties than
fuckin' drive that shit! Hell, no!"

Cochrane tilts back his beer, then
says, “I think if you don't drink any,
you get too nervous. You get in there
and you're all nerved up and shit. You
got to get a little laid-back.”

Before the consolation round, the
judges walk through the pit area, telling
people their 30 minutes of repair time is
more than up. Only Mickie Mouse and
ЈЕМ Fabrication are ready and waiting
in the arena. The sun is below the hori-
zon, and it's getting dark fast. Over the
loudspeaker the judges announce, “We

(continued on page 288)

HOLLYWODD'S TOP ACTORS, DIRECTORS AND POWER BROKERS
SHARE A COMMON THREAD: EACH HAS A UNIQUE PERSONAL STYLE

Fashion by
JOSEPH DE ACETIS

Photography by Greg Gorman
Produced by Jennifer Ryan Jones
Text by Michael Fleming

BILLY BOB THORNTON again demonstrates his trademark versatility this sea-
son, playing the title role in Bad Santa and putting a new spin on heroic Davy Crockett in The
Alamo. Though this ultimate Hollywood eccentric is heralded as one of our most gifted actors,
Thornton managed to pave his road to success through writing—most notably his Oscar-
winning screenplay for Sling Blade. Turns out he followed a bit of advice from legendary
director Billy Wilder, "He said to me early on that there's an actor on every street corner," says

Thornton, “but that if | could create my own thing, I'd separate myself from the others. He
Bawas sure right. After Sling Blade, | wasn't standing in line anymore." Like his idol Robert
Duvall, Thornton is equally adept at being a leading man and a character actor. "I think that's
ood strategy for career longevity," he says. It's a lesson also well suited to fashion. Whether
ге meeting a client or dining with a date, you want to stand out from the khaki crowd.

The navy suit with gray pinstripes is by DOLCE & GABBANA ($1,750), as is the pin-
tucked tuxedo shirt with multicolor diagonal stripes ($675).

MARE GURVITZ has been behind more
laughs than any big-screen funnyman. As a partner
at powerhouse management firm Brillstein-Grey,
where he's held sway for 18 years, Gurvitz discov-
ered and nurtured such comic talents as Mike
Myers, Bill Maher, David Spade and Chris Farley, As
if that weren't enough, for the past five years he's
also prepped Jennifer Aniston for a post-Friends
movie career. “It's wrong for a rep to take credit for
client accomplishments,” Gurvitz insists. “Mine is a
job ! liken to a quarterback's, because | coordinate
the blur of activity that takes place among the publi-
cist, the agent, the attorney—all to make the client's
career run smoothly.” That includes being there
when things are not running smoothly, which hap-
pened when Maher's comment about bravery and
9/11 cost the comic his ABC show Politically Incor-
rect. "He got caught up in this lynch mob mentality
that momentarily took him down," says Gurvitá, who
then took Maher to НВО.

He's in HARRY'S SHOES ($415), a sweater by BERETTA
($195), a shirt Бу JAMES PERSE ($99) and jeans
by BORRELLI ($275). The TIFFANY watch is his own.

PLAYBOY

QUINCY JO NES and his music span—and helped define—a half century of American
pop culture. He broke into the business working with Ray Charles and Count Basie, guided
Michael Jackson to his Thriller-fueled musical heights, organized We Are the World and
helped break in new jacks such as Will Smith. But of his many storied associations Jones is
still most in awe of his time with Frank Sinatra, who brought him in as arranger on "Fly Meto
the Moon” and then as a member of his inner circle. Jones owns a ring with the Sinatra fam-
ily crest, which he never takes off. “I met him and walked into another world,” Jones recalls.
"He used his voice and phrasing like a jazz instrument, and his breathing, elocution and
commitment to getting emotion were the best. When | worked with the Rat Pack we drank,
went to the steam room, all that stuff. But when it came time to work, Sinatra showed up 45
minutes early and took no prisoners. And every night we felt like we'd gone to heaven.”

The perfect lock for stage or an after-party, this tuxedo jacket (5970) and shirt (5230) are
both by ISSEY MIYAKE. The glasses by GUCCI and ће watch by PIAGET are Jones's own.

JASON PATRIC has already been ћгоџоћ тоје careers than one can easily count—
teen idol after Lost Boys, Hollywood pariah after Spaed 2 and, most recently, actor's actor
after incendiary roles in Your Friends & Neighbors and'Narc. Now he's back on Broadway in
a revival of Cat on а Hot Tin Roof and in cinemas as Jim Bowie in The Alamo. "I find it hu-
morous that people consider me a comeback kid," Patric says. “I stay so far out of the light
that it leaves an opening for people to write what tey will. The thing is, | choose my mo-
mentum, and any success is a testament to my tasté Iny gut. | refuse to bow down and com-
promise." Born in Queens, Patric's not afraid to speak his mind: "I think it is pathetic the way
people in our industry are respected for a relentless hekd to generate publicity and be liked
They continually change their hair color and facades tê appear to be living on some cutting
edge. It's silly because then it's not about the work ne sn't interest те,"

SALVATORE FERRAGAMO makes the python motträyelo jacket ($4,380) and cotton
shirt with blue-and-rust stripes ($240).

i > >

ED ZWICK began his Career, шө, of uth brutally honest TV series as
Thirtysomething and My So-Called Li later became known as a director of smart epics
like Legends of the Fal) Glory and, лин He Fe He recently stepped into elite status with
The Last Samurai, a patiod epic! stati | f|Crliise as a cavalry officer sent to Japan with
orders to eliminate thà sàmurai War ii Iho Uphold law for feudal lords. Zwick counts
Denzel Washington's Oscar-winning janice in Glory as a career highlight, particularly
the haunting scene in which his chara ау slave turned soldier, is whippédiforde-
sertion. Washington's teatiùl look haun aya {his/day. “Those moments are like rapture,
when you feel the movie 0995 have ай Ament that is much bigger than you ûfthat
actor,” he says. "1 remember а тотай He [Clalte Danes looked at Jared Leto іп MySo-
Called Life, and I saw in it everything ИВУЕ û hated about adolescence."

The striped shirt is by GIORGIO АРМА (6308), the T-shirt is by AXIS (S65), and the
cotton-and-hemp jeans are by ARMANI JEANS ($450)

JOHN LEE HANCOCK wrote the screenplays for the Clint Eastwood-directed
films A Perfect World and Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil before making his studio
directing debut with the surprise baseball hit The Rookie, “| learned so much from Clint,"
he reports. "Не was kind enough to let me hang around the set of both movies. I got to see
how he would take what | wrote and make it happen.” When Disney scrapped a pricey
R-rated version of The Alamo, the Texas-born Hancock was challenged to redraft it. He
rewrote the script and put his Rookie star Dennis Quaid in the role of Sam Houston, who
avenges the Alamo massacre by Mexican troops. “It was my favorite story as a kid, and
every Texan boy wore a coonskin cap before he could walk," Hancock says. "It's a complex
political story, but at its core is what happens when those men stand on that wall. These are
bankers, lawyers and farmers. Do they stay? Are they willing to die for an ideal?"

MARC JACOBS produces the leather bomber jacket ($2,355), print shirt ($410) and
corduroy jeans ($270). The CARTIER watch is Hencock's own.

GREG KINNEAR first made Waves | ў as the host of El's Ta/k Soup and
had to work harder than most to be taken Serious!) іскіу turned around the skeptics,
first as Harrison Ford's superficial brother in Sabrina, hen in films like As Good As It Gets
and Nurse Betty. He was a revelation in Hogan's Heroes star Bob Crane,
a voyeur whose obsession with pornography gets him killed. That role gave him the confi-
dence to share a costume with Matt Damon they're conjdined twins—in the new Farrelly
brothers comedy, Stuck on You. How does Kinnear keep himself grounded? By going up in
the air (sometimes). "One day | went out to Van Nuys Airport, signed up for lessons and
started flying the Cessna 172, which is the Honda Accord of the skies," Kinnear says. "I
stopped right before 9/11 and haven't gotten back: ¿e been playing a lot of golf, and I think
you have to pick one or you become wildly dangermisat both. But | do want to fly again.”
E Же

His blue button-front shirt ($145) and striped trousers (5195) are by JACK VICTOR. The
black leather jacket is by ARNOLD BRANT ($1,250).

JERRY BRUCKHEIMER is such ап impor-
tant producer he's become a brand name—an implicit
promise of edge, high testosterone and some big ex-
plosions. He's produced Armageddon, Top Gun, Beverly
Hills Cop, Bad Boys and Pirates of the Caribbean; tum-
ing his talents to TV he hatched the hits CS/, Without a
Trace and this season's Cold Case. The dizzyingly pro-
lific pace zoomed Bruckheimer's income to $35 million
last year, and this year the number should be consider-
ably higher. He's even knocking on Oscar's door with
the film Veronica Guerin. Bruckheimer's reality check
comes from the twice-weekly ice hockey pickup games
he meticulously organizes. They're populated with deal
makers and actors. "Hockey's my guilty pleasure, and
it goes back to meeting Wayne Gretzky when he came
to LA. to play for the Kings,” he says. "He reintroduced
me toa game | grew up with in Detroit. I love it and сап
play any position that involves moving forward, be-
cause | don't skate backward very well.”

The polo shirt is by LACOSTE ($79). The watch, by
CARTIER, is the producer's own.

WHERE AND HOW TO BUY ON PAGE 24.

THE GOLD
STANDARD”

PERSONAL HARDWARE THAT LIGHTS UP THE NIGHT.
IT'S THE ONLY WAY TO CELEBRATE TURNING 50

Fashion by JOSEPH DE ACETIS

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CLOCKWISE FROM ТОР: The horse-head belt buckle is by BARRY KIESELSTEIN-CORD (5485). Never mind rose-calored glasses]
life looks golden in these shades by CALVIN KLEIN EYEWEAR ($120). The money clip is by CHARVET (S475) Thé watchis.by.
OMEGA ($11,995). For some liquid gold, try body oil by L'OCCITANE (525). The silk pocket square is by, SALVATORE FERRAGAMO
($70). The Zippo is available at PLAYBOYSTORE.COM ($29). For a classier version of a gold necklace, BERETTA offers a gold tie
5585). Or try the dotted tie by CHARVET ($140). On it you'll find the ultimate cuff links: more than eight carats of diamonds set in 18-
karat gold by GRAFF ($139,000). For luxury puffing, DUNHILL makes А gold cigar ring ($805), That's nó nutcracker—it's a champagne
opener by б. LORENZI ($175). The pen is by DUNHILL ($195). SEIKO makes the мале! (5300), Open a bottle Swine with the gold-
and-wood corkscrew by G. LORENZI ($195). For the perfect finishycrown your look with the'stud set by BERETTA (52750)
" 4 >

WHERE AND HOW TO BUY ON PAGE 236.

PLAYBOY

198

mai | ег (continued from page 94)

Is it possible to agree that abortion is indeed one
form of murder and yet 15 still a woman's right?

unadmitted truth is that every human
alive loses personal appeal under the
flat illumination of a fluorescent tube.
Children can hardly feel as ready to
learn when everyone around them, in-
cluding their teacher, is a hint ghastly
in skin tone.

We are, of course, not ready to tell the
electorate that ТУ advertising has be-
come an albatross upon the American
spirit with its instruments of persua-
sion—noise, disjunction, mendacity and
manipulation. Is it possible, given the
federal government's soon ravenous
need for new kinds of funds, to consider
a special tax on advertising? Since the
radical right will, at once, be screaming
that this is an attack on free speech, we
could term it removal of a business de-
duction, a penalty for those advertising
expenses that go beyond standard in-
dustry practice. However phrased, there
is no reason for a healthy economy to
need to encourage hyped-up market-
ing for shoddy products. One example
we do not dare suggest, not as yet, is to
take a good look at the heavy competi-
tion in marketeering among the fast-
food chains. Very much alike are all of
them, and they serve the same social
purpose—inexpensive meals quickly
available. If they could be encouraged
to cease advertising against one another,
our children might be spared untold
hours of inroads on their attention (plus
the accompanying inclination to grab
a snack and get a little more obese).
Besides, the money saved by the chains,
given restrained merchandising, could
go into the real risk of competition. Let
it depend on the improved quality of
their wares!

ТО WAR ON ALL GARBAGE THAT
DOES NOT ROT

Ifwe are to appeal to conservatives and
environmentalists alike, we could sug-
gest that we are in need of an enlarged
Food and Drug Administration to ex-
plore the long-term effects of non-
biodegradables on public health. Plas-
tic, after all, derives from what was
once the waste products of oil. It might
even be fair to say that plastic is the
excrement of oil, but that would be an
abuse of language. Organic excrement
can nourish the earth, whereas plastics
do not decompose for thousands of
years if at all and never revitalize one
acre of soil. Meanwhile, our children
are raised from infancy with toys com-
posed of synthetic materials in constant

contact with their fingertips and their
lips. What does that do to them? Such
research is, of course, a long way down
the road, but our plank could address
the ecological problems that plastic
refuse presents to the environment.
Why not suggest higher rates of taxa-
tion on throwaway items that inundate
our town and city dumps, there never
to decompose?

Of course, the depredations that oil
brings to the environment may be the
leading problem our civilization faces in
the century ahead and therefore is larg-
er than our present readiness to recog-
nize problems that do not have ready
solutions. If all too many Americans
don’t like any question that takes longer
than 10 seconds to answer, it can be
replied that we now have the President
we deserve.

LET'S PAY FOR OUR VICES—BUT DON'T PUT
ALL. OF THEM IN CELLS

Prisons! The problem owes half its
weight to drug laws of the early 1970s
that criminalized marijuana possession.
The fear then was that Ameria would
become a nation of young druggies.
We didn't. We became instead a land of
air, soil and river pollution. (The anal
emissions of warehoused pigs took over
our prairie.) Meanwhile, our prisons
were overstuffed with young convicts.
Since America is hardly ready to legal-
ize drugs (and empty those prisons by
half), there are some unhappy figures
to deal with.

In 2003 our inmate population set
а record—2,166,260. We have the ra-
tio of incarceration you would expect
from third world tyrannies. Our
penitentiaries are loaded with drug
offenders serving long sentences for
minor infractions.

Can we dare propose that the na-
tion, given the financial relief it would
afford, begin to release a good number
of minor offenders? A pilot program to
explore the question is feasible, even
for a convention plank. Some inmates
might be released for drug treatment.
Marijuana smokers, and petty dealers,
could, for example, be given parole on
the premise that they would pay a fine
if caught continuing their habit or their
trade; if they did not have the funds to
meet the penalty, they would be re-
quired to perform community service
for modest pay until the debt is satis-
fied. To counter the objection that gov-
ernment moneys were being disbursed

t could be pointed
out that we invariably pay for such
easy vices as cigarettes and whiskey. Do
they or do they not kill more people
than marijuana?

ABORTION: WHAT ARE A WOMAN'S RIGHTS?

Roe v. Wade probably repels more good
conservatives than any other item in
the liberal canon. Yet a serious and in-
timate recognition of the question could
serve anew Democratic administration.
Indeed, it is imperative. The present
state of the argument strips all human-
ity from the equation. Those for the
Right to Life see every pregnancy as
God's will, God's intention: Ergo, the
abortionist and his patient are both
evil. Defenders of Roe v. Wade view ab-
ortion as a woman’s right yet sully
their position by postulating that abor-
tion is not killing a future human being
if it takes place within the first three
months, or in the first six months, or
whenever. It is a stand to weaken one's
intellectual self-respect.

Is it possible to agree that abortion 15
indeed one more form of murder and
yet is still a woman's right? If God's will
15 flouted, it is the woman, not the soci-
cty, who will pay the price. That would
be a huge and indigestible political
move if it were ever stated just so. Yet
as a species, we humans commit mur-
der all the time, not only in war but by
way of the meat and fish and fowl we
send daily to our machines of exter-
mination. Every piece of flesh at our
tables was slain.

Such an argument is obviously not
suited for travel in public. Lambs and
cattle are not to be compared to hu-
mans, and war protects our endan-
gered land, etc. Since the Right to Life
will continue to insist that pregnancy is
the direct expression of God's will, let
us approach that as the true field of
battle for this debate. Sex, given its ap-
peal, its mystery, its extravagances, its
explorations, its commitments, its ad-
ventures—be they sordid or illuminat-
ing—sex by its unique entrance into
our most private thoughts, compul-
sions, pleasures and, yes, terrors, is for
most humans an arena where we are
aware of a presence that seems divine,
but we are also sensitive often to anoth-
er presence. Some fornications feel
diabolically inspired. The question is
begged in its entirety when we say
“God's will.” A pregnancy can seem а
blessing to one woman and a night-
mare to another. Most women are
haunted by the fear of losing a child in
their womb, but there will always be a
minority who find themselves drawn
to abortion. They are haunted by an
opposite terror, the fear that they have
conceived a monster.

(continued on page 266)

"This is probably our last night together... My wife is starting to understand me.”

139

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The memo from
Pontiac's top brass to the engineers was clear—no
new cars built for speed. In the early 1960s big.
slow, "responsible" automobiles were the future.
But chief engineer John De Lorean saw a loophole.
Instead of designing a new car, he retooled an old
one—the Tempest LeMans—fitting it with a 389-
cubic-inch Tri-Power engine, bucket seats and а
race-car-style floor shifter. The new ride ran low
13s—a quarter mile in 13 seconds. It was the first
factory-made muscle саг, soon widely known as the
Legend or the Great One. De Lorean stole the name
from the Ferrari GTO, which had come out in Italy
two years earlier, but most folks believed the name
Stood for “gas, tires and oil," all of which this street
bitch burned with considerable ease. Driving wasn't
just about style or picking up girls anymore. It was
about who had the biggest dick.

49
( 2) In the.
1970s Walt
Суйе” Frazier
of the New York.
Knicks was a superstar,
a slam-dunking Stagger
Lee clad ina full-length
mink and г pimp hat. When some genius from Puma
hiton the idea of having Frazier endorse the compa:
ny's new basketball shoes, it spawned a multimillion-
dollar phenomenon—and redefined men's footwear
forever. Some of the original Рита Clydes had blue
suede uppers with a white swirl around the heel
and new colors came out seemingly every minute.
They were more than just shoes. They were shoes
worth stealing, even if they weren't your size.

Yes, they
were just little pieces
of chicken. But
Teressa Bellissimo's
signature fare at

the Anchor Bar in Buffalo, New York was the first bar
food ever that someone might actually want to eat.
(Fickled eggs? Stale nuts?) Tavern regulars are forev-
er indebted, not just for the wings but for yet another
reason to stick around for one more.

47 ig
( ) Question: "If Monica Lewinsky

Says that you used а cigar as а sexual

aid with her in the Oval Office area,

would she be lying?” Bill Clinton, the

camera cropped tight, lost his compo-

sure for a millisecond, then pulled him- E
self together to give the following. 3
answer, broadcast to billions around the

world: “I will revert to my former state-

ment." The Swisher Sweets has been

around forever, but in 1998 the Ameri-

can-made 45-cent cigar became a

smoking gun in the political scandal of

the century. The phrase "blowing smoke

up our asses” would never be the same.

Inventor Arthur Fry created “a bookmark

that would stick—but not too much,

never imagining that the 3M Post-it would

become the most ubiquitous stationery

product in the world, plain white paper

aside. It's now available in 25 shapes and

62 colors in more than 100 countries. So

how exactly did it change the world? Hmm. We wrote
it down ona Post-it, and it's here somewhere.

45 ) Polytetrafluc-
roethylene (a.k.a. Teflon), one of the slipperiest
substances known to man, was discovered acci-
dentally in 1938 by a DuPont scientist. Long before
it became a nickname fora mob boss (Teflon Don)
and President Reagan (Teflon Ron), French inventor
Marc Gregoire applied it to cooking pans. Since
helping out in the kitchen no longer took any effort,
men began whipping up omelets that were fluffier

and more evenly
folded than ever be-
fore. Two days later:
One quick wipe and
just look at that shine!

44 estring
(1970s) To rid the
earth of evil panty
lines, underwear
boldly went where
no fabric had gone
before—straight
up the butt Other
fashion-forward
trends eventually followed: coiffed pubic regions to
accommodate the minimal cover, low-rise jeans to
show off those alluring back straps. No one knows
for sure who invented the G-string. Sumo wrestlers?
Fashionistas? Who the hell cares? In Rio they're
making these things out of dental floss.

43 Igloo plastic Ice chest (1963)
Warm beer became a thing of the past. You left the
house in the moming with a cooler full of cold ones
and retumed at night with a cooler full of dead fish.
Orcrushed cans. Or animal flesh still twitching from
a buckshot blast. What more do you want from life?

42 Regency TR-1 transistor radio
(1954) It was the first-ever portable electronic ra-
dic, a $50 12-ounce pocket-size number that came
in four different colors. Setting a trend that continues
to this day, the Regency was marketed to teenagers
who were desperate for some
kind of distraction. It's по

Р coincidence that simul-

taneously a new kind of
radio-friendly music called
rock and roll was emerging,

led by a guy named Elvis.

41. Western Electric Model 1500
Touch-Tone phone (1964) Dialing a
number took about 12 seconds with а rotary
phone, and if you messed up you had to start
from scratch. It takes two seconds with а
touch-tone phone. If you make 10 calls a day,
a touch-tone phone will save you 10 hours а
year. The average sex session, including fore-
play, lasts 25 minutes. Do the math.

40 Metal halide grow light (early
1980s) Years ago, when the NFL decided to
schedule night games, the league needed a way to
re-create midday conditions in stadiums for the
cameras. Huge systems of giant lights resulted, with

ж bulbs that mimicked
the spectrum of the
зип. “Somebody figured
out that with one of
those huge lights they
Could grow 20 pot
plants indoors,” says
High Times editor in
EE chief Steve Hager.

d "Around the same time,

the feds were putting the kibosh on cultivation,
patrolling rural areas with helicopters. The new

сап schwag, you had brain-scrambling hothouse
flowers growing in your hometown, worth more by
the ounce than gold.

39 mr. Coffee (1972) Ii you're old
drip coffeemaker became the best-selling java

sales. But the real coup came in 1979, when Mr.
Coffee added a timer. You woke up in the morning

lighting technology allowed people to produce good-
quality marijuana indoors.” Instead of brown Mexi-

enough. you'll remember what a pain in the ass the
old percolators were. No wonder the first automatic

brewer in the nation the very year it was introduced.
Having Joe OiMaggio as its TV pitchman didn't hurt

caller: “Yeah, Mr.
Shvlitzenkoffer? l'm
faxing over the dia-
grams of me fuck-
ing your wife right
TOW. Enjoy."

36 Jacuzzi
(1968) You're
Roy Jacuzzi, third-
generation member
of the Italian American Jacuzzi family that made
great advancements in the agricultural pump
industry You're sitting around with all the family
patents for water pumps, thinking of a way to use
them that, unlike irrigating farmland to grow food,

and the shit was already made. would truly benefit society. You're thinking moon-
light, champagne, nudity. Then it hits you...

38 specialized Stumpjumper

mountain bike (1981) 35 Frank Motor Homo (1961)

Itcould tackle curbs, stairs, mud and gravel. Sud-
denly a bike became a viable bank-heist getaway
vehicle. Legendary trail rider Joe Breeze invented the
mountain bike after a decade of modifications. His
testing ground: the Cascade Canyon fire road, а
steep two-mile suicide
run in Marin County,
California. He

Ah, the open road. Grandpa's goiter quivers as he
motors down the highway, with wife, pets and five-
* ton house fol-

finally came id up with

up with the Dodge to market the first mass-produced RV—
Breezer, the a wood-and-aluminum home perched on a truck
granddaddy chassis, in your choice of 20- ($6,500), 23-

of all motn- ($6,900) and 26-foot ($7,300) models. As if a new

religion had been founded, the RV spawned parks,
entire towns and a whole new subculture.

34 Evian (late 1980s) The capitalist
feud over the world's most basic and precious
resource had begun. Evian marketed its water as а
pristine refreshment that Mother Nature poured in
France, perfect for everyday drinking. Translation:
In a world driven by paranoia and ruled by corpora-
tions, you could no longer trust your own faucet.
Barely in existence before the early 1980s (except
for bubbly stuff like Perrier), bottled water has
become America's second favorite beverage,
outselling beer, coffee and milk, respectively. Now
that's а mouthful.

tain bikes.
Specialized
came out
with the first
mass-pro-
duced model
soon after. For
$800 you got two
fat, knobby wheels, a steel

frame, 18 gears and an ass-numbing saddle.
Replacement skull not included.

33 Ford Explorer (1991) The Explorer
wasn't the first SUV (the Jeep Cherokee had been
around for ages), but this runaway best-seller
started a chain reaction. Suddenly every putz was
trading in his Civic for a car-truck he could use for.
“utilities"—namely, colliding with other vehicles
without rattling Junior's car seat—while boasting
about "off-road capabilities" despite never leaving
the pavement. And the gas mileage? So much for
the environment.

32 Cosmopolitan (1965) You
say you want a revolution? How's this: а
whole magazine based on the philosophy
that women should use flattery, sex,

iet, lipstick and exercise to keep their
men happy. And they should go cut
and make some money, too! Piggy-

37 xerox Magnatax Telecopier
fax machine (1966) Before this gizmo,
there was no way to get a document immediately
from one location to another. Think about it. How
did businesses function? The 47-pound machine
also provided a new frontier for the skitled crank

backing on the success of her book Sex and the
‘Single Girl, radical editor Helen Gurley Brown for-
ever proved that self-empowerment and sluttiness
‚could coexist. “All the suggestions about pleasing
men are as viable as ever,” Brown, now 81, has
said. “Whatever age you are, [a woman] should be
flattering to a man about the way ће looks...and
you should be very flattering to his penis. You
should tell him how beautiful it is, how attractive,
how irresistible...”

31 ла 4) Warning: This product.
may cause a distinct lack of pain of any kind. Side
effects include the absence of hangovers, back
pain, headaches and fever, not to mention the liver
problems sometimes associated with aceta-
minophen. And it testes like candy! Advil, the most
common brand of ibuprofen, which was first tested
Clinically in 1966, is the most noteworthy over-the-
counter drug to hit shelves in the past half century.
That old headache routine doesn't cut it anymore in
the sack, eh, sweetheart?

30
i9) By the end of your life, the ie

the copier machine will have saved you will be exact-
ly equivalent to the time you spent standing in front.
of the thing, scratching your head and wondering why
it never fucking works. Still, it's better than messing.
with carbon paper. Patent attomey Chester Carlson
invented xerography (Greek for "dry writing") in 1938.
When he tried to peddle his invention, more than 20
companies, including IBM and GE, passed on it. Two

decades later the Haloid Xerox made its debut
in offices across the country. Ass
copies made their debut
Six months later.

Mac's daddy,
whipped
up the first
one at his

sylvania
McDonald's
franchise,
calling
it the Big
Mac Super
Sandwich.
The follow-
ing year,
À company
founder Ray
Kroc introduced
= it systemwide. The
modern fast food branding
phenomenon had begun. Suddenly every joint was
hawking a sandwich you had to try immediately.
The lesson was clear: If they see them on TV,
people will line up to eat thumbtacks.

түзү debuted its.
first triple-page Cen-
terfold in the March
1956 issue with Play-
mate Marian Stafford.
The iconic gatefold

| took off both figura-
tively and literally (one
ventured into space aboard Apollo ХИТ. The ritual
experience has since become a rite of passage
(though some use their left) for men worldwide: (1)
the unfolding, (2) the 90-degree tum and (3) the
look of shock and awe. For practice, turn to page 175.

А man could now control the flame beneath a grill
with the simple turn of a knob. High. Low. Front.
Back. Standing before his grill. he is Prometheus.
The bottled gas makes him beholden to no noxious
fluids, the lack of charcoal makes for little
cleanup, and he suffers no performance anxiety
when the coals don't light or go out prematurely.
Who wants another burger?

пісе, but the real ШОО, was Zenith’s Space
Command wireless remote. Soon the zapper was
de rigueur, prompting America to become lazier, fat-
ter and more gluttonous than ever before. Dad used
to brag about walking to school uphill both ways
without shoes. Now he
was too lazy to get up
to change the channel.
Inventor Robert
Adler's handheld re-
mote didn't require
balteries. By pressing
a button, you struck
one of four lightweight
aluminum rods, each
emitting a different
pitch. A receptor in the
TV interpreted these tones—channel up, channel
down, sound on/off or power on/off. Now if some-
one could just invent a remote for women.

251 56) When English
designer Mary Quant popularized the miniskirt. the
world suddenly seemed to go from black and white
to color. A world of possibilities now existed with
every cross of legs in a restaurant or sashay down a.
E crowded street. With the birth
@ of what is now a fashion
‘staple, women were encour-
aged to be proud of their sex
appeal—manipulative even.

(1971) The first answering
machine was a three-foot-tall,
300-pound monstrosity in-

vented in 1935 for Orthodox Jews, who are forbidden.
to answer the phone on the Sabbath. Casio took the
invention mainstream with the reel-to-reel Phone-
Mate Model 400, which weighed as much as a
Thanksgiving turkey (10 pounds). Before long the
telephone became the tool you always wanted it to
be: an anti-communication device. You could con-
duct business and tend to your personal life without
‚ever actually talking to anyone (as in, “I don't think
we should see each other anymore. . .").

23 4) It was more than the
first toaster-ready pastry; itwas the first tcaster-
ready anything, besides bread. As the Vietnam war
raped and the Cold War sirmered, domestic sci-
ertists helped the U.S. maintain its leadership in
the snack-food wars—making the world safe for
stoned college students and
9 ‘slumming housewives every-
where. The original flavors
e were Strawberry, blueberry,
= — Cinnamon and apple cur-
== __rant—soonto be replaced
| by chocolate. The Stay-
Shur Sprinkles, which

* didn't move or melt dur-
ing toasting, were intro-

luced a few years later. The treat

suffered a setback in the 1990s when people real-

ized that Pop-Tarts produce 18-inch flames when
ignited. Now that’s some serious cooking.

22 рур [: Has there ever
been a greater marriage between medium and

‘seemed akin to getting off on cave drawings. No
more endless fast-forwarding or badly timed tape
breakages. From your couch you could jump-cut
from scene to scene, choose from a library of de-
praved sex acts and toy with slow-mo and digital
freeze-frame that actually worked. Can you say
“instant access”? Stay tuned for hologram tech-
nology that'll blast the action from a DVD into
three-dimensional space in your living room.

21 pvp play ) In 1997 the world
was eager for a new and improved video format,
ard electronics suppliers were eager to avoid a
replay of the bruising VHS-Beta battle. So in an un-
precedented display of détente, five manufacturers
simultaneously ushered in the DVD player, with its
high-resolution images and digital stereo sound;
since its introduction, 51 million units have been
sold, one of the fastest rollouts ever. If the VCR cre-
ated a generation of film renters, the DVD ushered
in the age of the schmo cinephile. The new discs
were priced to be bought, not rented, and they
came with widescreen images, commentary, delet-
ed scenes and making-of documentaries. Suddenly
your postman was babbling about the mise-en-
scene in Happy Gilmore. Progress is а funny thing.

20 Pampers

Procter & Gamble inventor Victor
T Perfected Могу soap, kept

the oil from separating in Jif
y peanut butter and dreamed up.

technology? Suddenly, watching adult films on ҮН5 |

Pringles. And because he didn't
want to deal with his granddaugh-
ter's fetid diapers (shit hap-
pens), we have Mills to thank
for the disposable kind—
roughly 20 billion of which hit
landfills in this country annu-
ally. Their ease of use became a
| double-edged sword: Now every
guy is expected to get his hands
funky, even if the
game is on, it's
the fourth
quarter, you're
in the middle of
afine cigar and
your team has
the ball.

C»

г (1999) It finally
fulfilled the original promise of
the VCR: Watch what you want
when you want. Recording onto a
massive hard drive, TiVo took the

guesswork out of the process—
even if you needed a PhD in
physics to understand how to set up
the thing in the first place. You could
rewind live broadcasts, skip com-
mercials, automatically record any-
thing with Angelina Jolie in it. Instead
of the networks calling the shots, you
did. The latest model, the Series2 80-
hour (above, $299), lets you program your
home machine online from anywhere.

18 9) She's the most
popular doll ever, but Barbie has always
had to deal with her share of would-be
spoilsports. Some complain that her de
votion to accessories promotes wanton
materialism; others say her job choices
are too stereotypical (nurse, flight atten-
dant—hey, at least she has a job). Still
others carp about how her 39-21-33 mea-
Surements promote unrealistic ideas of
body image in young girls. Now the Saudi
religious police are attacking her: “Jewish
Barbie dolls, with their revealing clothes
and shameful postures, accessories and
tools, are a symbol of decadence to the
perverted West.” Eh, fellas, /'chaim. Bot-
tom line: Barbie's hot. Leave her alone!
Don't worry, baby—we got your back.

| т
d

Ь;

м.

The digital revolution gave av-
erage couples who shouldn't be seen having sex the
ability to photograph themselves fucking. You could
enjoy the filthy fruits of your labor without hav-
ing to endure the snicker of the Fotomat guy.
Apple developed the first digital camera with
Kodak (the company that brought you the first
Snapshot camera, back in 1898), and
unlike the digital camcorder—primanily а
tool for parents to record images of their
newboms pooping themselves—this new
camera format is now ubiquitous. How far has the
medium come? Canon's new EOS Digital Rebel
(above, $899) combines all the benefits of digital with
all the SLR options. Shoot 6.3 megapixel photos with
detachable SLR wide-angle or zoom lenses. Shoot
manually or fully automatically. And there's a continu-

7% pick one up. But these legendary 12

B= inches, with enough vibrating power

ous shooting mode for hot action shots.

changed the
world:

* Marilyn Monroe
* Rosa Parks

* Roe

“Jenna Jameson
* Julia Child
“Elton John

Scandals that
changed the world:

* Dylan goes elec!

* Watergate

* Enron

* sexual-predator Catholic priests
* Gore vs. Florida

* kid catches Jeter's home run

* Monicagate

* Iraq: WMD?

16 c Wa 8
Hitachi marketed the $45 Wand as а body massager.
Any lady could wander into а major chain store and

“to shake the enamel off your
teeth,” as one fan puts it, have
done more for female sexual dys-

function since the 1970s than all
men combined. “Thousands of
women have used this tool to
learn how to orgasm,” says Kim
Airs, proprietor of the Boston and
West Hollywood sex shop Grand
Opening and one of any number of sex
pros who have used the Wand to teach
frigid women how to orgasm in
sex workshops. “The thing could qe

replace the penis permanently if ® IS

men aren't careful.”

The 101 in the product name refers to both
the binary code (digital music is encoded in a pattem
of ones and zeros) and 10/1—October 1, 1982—the
day the first CD was introduced to the world. The
place: Tokyo. The CD: Billy Joel's 52nd Street. Sony
and Philips developed the new format together. “We
knew that everyone who experienced the sound of the
CD for the first time would understand the impact it
would have on music and lifestyle,” says Marc Finer,
who led the marketing team for the launch. “But we
had no idea how quickly it would dominate the mar-
ket.” Nearly 35 percent of households had a CD play-
er within five years, the fastest penetration rate of
any new format until the DVD showed up in 1997.

People who are
explicably still
alive

* Keith Richards
* Osama bin Laden
* Hunter S. Thompson
* Elvis
"50 Cent
Strom- Thurmond

Services that changed
the world:

*ATMs

* FedEx

“Internet

“cable ТУ

“lap dances

* bikini waxing

* drive-through anything
* happy endings

sculptured body, like the
hourglass shape of a woman.
The signals from the pickups

like a ragged snarl, a searing
Wail. Fender released the first
Strat around the time the first

issue of PLAYBOY

hit newsstands.
Fifty years later
по ax сап com-
pare to its iconic
Status in the rock-
history pantheon. John
and George played
identical ones.
Townshend
‘smashed any

number of em.

Hendrix set his on
fire. Music would
never be the
same. Tum it down,
Son! No way, Dad

No fuckin’ way.

While fiddling around with invisible microwaves—
originally used in WII radar systems — scientist
Percy LeBaron Spencer discovered that the candy
bar in his pocket had melted and his testicles had
fallen off. Eureka! The first microwave (1954) was
five and a half feet tall and weighed more than 750
pounds, (It now plays guard for the Redskins.)
Amana, a division of Raytheon, introduced the con-
veriently poodle-size countertop range in 1967 to
much fanfare. Suddenly anyone could "cook" a
meal. during a commercial break, no less

12 apy layer (2001)
Don't you miss those massive piles of plastic CD
cases, all of them busted, none of them containing.
the right disc? Don't you miss carrying а single CD
around at a time, then
realizing how sick to.
death you are of every
tune? MP3 players
hit stores in 1998,
but the iPod was
the first iconic
model, a slick-
looking gadget
the size of a
urinal puck
that could
hold your en-
lire music
library. Fi-
rally, the
new for-
mat had
gone
main-

stream. The tatest iPod, with 40 gigabytes of memo-
ry ($499), can hold, oh, 10,000 songs. Instead of a
disc or a cassette, music is now just a sequence of
ones and zeros written in the ether. No wonder the
record industry is in a tizzy over file sharing. Soon
enough the CD will go the way of the piano tie.

like a freight train speeding through your veins, your
heart beating out a Keith Moon drum solo in your
ears. Then 15 minutes later you'd kill for more. For
the record, crack is cocaine processed with ammo-
nia or baking soda into a cheap, smokable, rocklike
form. According to some conspiracy theorists. the
craze is believed to have taken hold in South Cen-

11s J Dinner (1954) маз | tral Los Angeles, the work of a single ambitious
а complete dinner for one— Salisbury steak, meat loaf | dealer. Ricky Donnell Ross, a.k.a. Freeway Rick,
— = — x was getting the stuff from Central America, It

was called crack because when heated it
crackled like Rice Krispies
іп milk.

[

or fried chicken— served with potatoes and freakishly
green peas or something even stranger. Each food
group was impeccably divided on a space-age
aluminum tray, just as our lives were supposed to be.
Ten million dinners were sold in the first year alone.
We sat not at the table but facing the tube, like zom-
bies. Where did this food come from? Mom had noth-
ing to do with it. Nature had nothing to do with it.

God had nothing to do with it. Is it any wonder the
1960s happened?

Crack babies,
crackheads, crack
dens, crack hos.

The high came on

C у When you were immersed in your own
music, blasting so loud it eclipsed all other sound,
reality became a movie, complete with soundtrack.
And you were the star. Jogging. riding public transit,
having a tooth filled, getting hit by a car because you

couldn't hear the screeching
horn—what experience
couldn't be en-
hanced by Wagner
or "Baba O'Riley”?

best friend is no
longer a dog but
sildenafil citrate —
Viagra. It's hard to
believe the world first
heard the word Viagra
just six years ago. Two
British scientists—Peter
Dunn and Albert Wood (now
known as Peter “Not” Dunn and
A Woody)—concocted the stuff.
Dvernight, things were looking up for a fot of men.
The “little blue pill" is now an indelible part of mil-
lions of lives. Its impact can be felt in many places,
though hopefully not on а crowded bus. This despite
reports of shocking Viagra-related fatalities. Арраг-
ently а man took seven pills one night. His wife died.

2) fe costa whopping $100 and ЕРЕ уси
fo maneuver a white dot on a black TV screen. By
using different overlays that fit right onto the tube,
you turned the maneuvering of this white dot into
Ping-Pong. Or tennis. Or hockey. Why communicate
with others? Why sleep? Why go outside? Americans
bought 80,000 Odysseys the year they went on sale,
Sparking a video game craze that has yet to die
down. The first generation of emasculated computer
geeks had been born.

6 Silicone breast imp
Timmie Jean Lindsey of Houston was the first. Thirty
years old, divorced, with six kids and a dead-end
job. she was at the charity hospital getting some
tattoos removed when Drs. Frank Gerow and
Thomas Cronin made her an offer. She left the hos-
pital а few days later with firm, round, glorious C
cups. By the end of the year she was married and
heppy, and damn it, so wes her husband. She.
admits that her new tits had much to do with it.

8 (1962)

The “brick phone;
the world s first.
commercial hand-
held celly, weighed in
at roughly two
pounds and cost
consumers а measly
$3,995. Seemingly
overnight the world
became exponential-
ly more annoying.
Your mother, your
boss, your stalker—anybody could reach you at
any time. The downside: Try living without it,

4 АК-47 (19605) Russian soldier Mikhail
Kalashnikov invented this 600-rounds-a-minute
killing machine in 1947; it worked so well that the
Avtomat Kalashnikova 1947 quickly became the
Soviet army's standard issue. But not until Viet-
пат did this gun become recognized as the
weapon of choice for terrorists and guertillas

around the world.
Cheap, mass-
produced, tough
to break and
readily available,
itbecame, as the
Los Angeles
Times recently
put it, “history's
most widely dis-
tributed piece of
killing machin-
ery.” According to a July 1999 State Department
report, the AK-47 can be purchased from arms
dealers in Africa for $6 a pop. In some countries
"itis easier and cheaper to buy an AK-47 than to
attend a movie or provide a decent meal," the
report says. When asked a few years ago how he
felt about the many lives his creation had taken,
а decrepit Kalashnikov responded, "I built it to
protect my country.”

VHS, Sony's VCR was the first (and, many believe,
the superior technology). When the machine hit
stores. film studio execs whined that it would de-

stroy the movie
industry, that
folks wouldn't
show up at the
theater. Factis,
the VCR brought
Hollywood, not
to mention Porn
Valley, into Amer-
ica's living rooms.
The multibillion-dollar rental industry was born.
And an entire generation grew up not realizing that
you're supposed to be fucking quiet while watch-
ing a movie in theaters.

2 The pill ( This one little
pharmaceutical innovation—a tiny

pill that manipulates hormone
levels in women to prevent
unwanted pregnancy—
changed a system

of sexual politics
that had been in
place since the
Stone Age. (Curi-
ously, it took five
more years for the
‘Supreme Court to
strike down the Com-
stock laws that banned
contraception.) For wom-
en, the pill was a public ac-
knowledgment of female libido.
Not only did it prevent pregnancy, it
created a generation gap the size of the
Grand Canyon overnight. Women were now liberat-

ed to make the choice to have sex whenever (how

about now?) and wherever (right here would be

fine), just for the joy of it. For us, it was one more

reason for a woman to say yes. 225

dows, icons, mouse and pointer, the modern desk-
top as we know it today. It was the first truly us-
able personal computer, so easy to handle you
didn't even need to read the manual. With a 128-
kilobyte hard drive, it had one 312,500th of the
memory that Apple's latest MP3 player now pos-

According to anyone who knew anything
about computers in the early 1980s, Apple was
doomed; the company seemed destined for history's
dustbin. Apple had marketed one of the first person-
al computers back in 1977 and had run the first-
ever full-page color ad for one (in PLAYBOY) a year
later. But by 1983 Big Blue IBM was taking the reins
of the exploding market and pulling away. Apple
needed а late-inning home run. “Think really, really
big" was the mantra of new СЕО John Sculley.

A year later millions of Americans caught their first
glimpse of the Apple Macintosh in a commercial that
aired during Super Bowl XVIII (Raiders 38, Redskins
9). The Ridley Scott-directed spot, which evoked im.
ages from George Orwell's 1984, cost $1.5 million to
produce and air, a record at the time. It was never
broadcast again, but the Mac had made its mark.

Unlike the Apple И, the new $2,500 Mac was
the first WIMP computer for consumers —win-

LOPE,

sesses. But for most folks at the time, it had power
to spare. Six years later Bill Gates brought WIMP
technology to the masses with his knockoff Win-
dows 3.0 system, and there was no turning back
The meek had inherited the earth, the ultimate
revenge of the nerds.

50 years of.

Enthusiasms
that now seem
inexplicable:

“glam bands
* boy bands
marching bands

* shag (carpets, vests,
haircuts, -adelic)

+1005

+ МТУ

* plots in pornographic
films

Things that
changed the
world for the
worse:

> AIDS

* helmets on hockey
players

* Rosie magazine

* political correctness

*the whole throwing-
the-newborn-into-a-
Dumpster fad

* Geraldo

+ telemarketing

* Star Wars prequels

* Michael Jackson

surgeries numbers
three to 22

whatsoever:
* the yellow line that

* eryogenic freezing
* moon landing

* BlackBerry

* golf carts

* the De Lorean
*Twinkles

* plasma TVs

* Hot Wheels

* Department of

* arming Saddam Hussein
to fight the Iranians

* arming the Afghans to
fight the Soviets

* body piercing (except
the clitoris)

Cool things that
had no impact

marks the first down

* wet T-shirt contests

Homeland Security

Innovations
yet to come:

*sexicatessens

* designer babies

* alr connoisseurs

2 cats that fuck dogs
* kidney plercing
diet marijuana

* Reason to Get Out of
Bed brand vodka

* cure for genital warts
and general ugliness

* kosher pork
“wearable airbags

“eternal life for those
who can afford it

“It’s been such a perfect evening...the sleigh bells, the softly
falis snow, the blow job...”

227

228

FICTION BY THOM JONES

ALL

ALONG T
WATCHTO

GRIMES HAD FINALLY COPPED THE PERFECT ШОН. ВОТ НЕ BLEW

lifford Homer Grimes Jr. got the interview

thanks to an uncle on his mother’s side of the

family. Harry was a bottom-feeder in the

Daley machine who had just enough bite to

foist his wayward nephew on the city’s De-
partment of Transportation. He did this reluctantly, only
after his sister Martha got down on her knees and begged.
But Uncle Harry came through. After announcing the
good news, Harry sat in her living room fingering his
pencil-thin mustache as he awaited a token gesture of
thanks. Clifford being Clifford, none was forthcoming.
Harry moved to the bay window and saw a cop stick a
parking ticket under the wipers of his Oldsmobile. He
was out the door like a shot. It was all a blur to his groggy
nephew, who was recovering from a stupendous hang-
over. Moments later Harry was back, holding an orange
ticket. “Too late, goddamn it, but I know people in Traf-
fic. ГИ have it squashed. The sons of bitches.”

Harry had been worn down by his sister’s appeals. His
nephew was a fucked-up mess, and when (not if) he was
canned, Harry’s good deed would generate only scorn
downtown. It was an idle stab, but Harry handed Clifford
a paperback copy of How to Win Friends and Influence Peo-
ple. He had done his best; his nephew was hopeless. All
he wanted to do was hang out with those faggots at the
gym and lift weights. He looked like a goddamn freak.
Then Harry put on his trench coat and stepped outside.
He noticed a couple of kids running away from his car.
The Olds hadn’t been on the street more than 15 minutes
and it had been zapped by the parking ticket and a pair of
quick-ass hubcap thieves.

ILLUSTRATION BY DAVE MCKEAN

Clifford dragged himself into the bathroom, brushed
his teeth and left for the gym. Interview in less than a day;
he was terrified. After his workout he went home for a nap.
0 км. Clifford got up and hit the bars. He favored
silk shirts, gilded chains, a zircon pinkie. As his main
man Winston liked to say, “Who's goin’ get the booty,
muh fuck? ГИ tell you: the chief peacock, not that ugly
drab-ass cousin!” When Clifford told him about the in-
terview, Winston hopped around Casey’s Bar and Grill
singing, "After breakfast every day, she never fail to say, Get
а job. Sha da da da, sha da da; yip уір yip yip. mum mum
mum, get a job.” Clifford proceeded to get hammered.

When he came to the next day, the last thing he re-
membered was puking in the alley. He glanced at his
watch. Shit, it was late. He got dressed and was out the
door with barf still on his breath. The battery in his
beat-to-shit Morris Minor was dead. He looked at'his
Timex again—shit, 11:30—and made a dash to the El:
He chewed his fingernails and paced. The train came at
last, packed to the gills. By the time he showed up for
the interview, his iridescent blue satin shirt was stained
with sweat. The chain around his neck was a major mis-

take. This was a suit-and-tie interview, and he looked _

like a damn greaseball. He tried to slide his pinkie ring
off but couldn't get it past his second knuckle. He
reeked of booze, voi

. The three-person
panel immediately began firing questions. Flop sweat
rolled down Clifford’s face. He reached for his handker-
chief, a crumpled yellow rectangle of cloth, and shook it
open; the members of the panel recoiled. The three

PLAYBOY

230

huddled over his résumé, speaking in
whispers. Clifford heard snatches of
muted questions.

“Fired? A drywall hanger? What's
this here, mortuary assistant? Well,
what is it, mortuary or exterminator?
Both? Fired from both? Oh my god, a
paperboy! Thirty-three years old and
a paperboy?"

Clifford struggled to compose him-
self. Having heard enough, the assis-
tant deputy commissioner of the Bu-
reau of Bridges and Transit tossed his
half frames on the table and rocked
back in his chair. He locked his bands
behind his head and leaned back,
revealing two muffs of nasal hair. The
smirk on his face was enough to make
Clifford want to pound the bastard to
the ground.

A man resembling Joseph Stalin
poured a glass of water. He took sev-
eral small sips, straightened his tie
and began, “Mr. Grimes, it says here
you served in the armed forces. Tell
us about that.”

Clifford told the panel he had won a
Silver Star during Operation Desert
Storm. A broad grin lit the assistant
deputy's narrow face. He leaned for-
ward, picked up his glasses and said,
“Your recent work history points in the
opposite direction, Cliff. Things just
don't seem to jibe here.”

Clifford wiped down his face and
said, “Look, I can do this job!”

“An orangutan can do the job. That's
not the point.”

The heat of the room was unbear-
able. Cliftord rolled up his sleeves, re-
vealing а tattoo that read JULIET AND
CLIFF, TRUE LOVE SPRINGS ETERNAL. He
saw six eyes fall upon it. He could
scarcely breathe. He said, “Gulf War.
Sergeant in the Green Berets. Some
heavy shit went down, and——”

The third member of the panel in-
terrupted Clifford. She was a dour
woman of 50, her hair in a salt-and-
pepper bob. She had a snub nose as
bad as Lon Chancy's in The Phantom of
the Opera. The woman waved a copy
of Clifford's service record and said,
“Bad-conduct discharge. Private. No
Green Beret, but a four-month stretch
in the stockade.”

Clifford hadn’t thought about a
background check; this job was sup-
posed to be a shoo-in. He turned up
his palms in а gesture of wonder. “You
must have the wrong Clifford Grimes.”
He swallowed hard, and his Adam's
apple bobbed up and down like an ele-
vator. His larynx was tight, dry and
strained. He sounded like Tweety Bird
with his cartoon nuts in a vise. The in-
terview was blown.

‘The assistant commissioner replaced
his glasses and scanned Clifford's ser-
vice record. “These are discharge pa-

pers for a Clifford Howard Grimes at
1187 South Sullivan in Chicago. Is this
your address, Cliff? You listed it as such
on your application. Are we meant to
believe there were actually two Clifford
Howard Grimeses in the U.S. Army?"
“It does seem a little far-fetched,”
Clifford said. "I don't under- a
"I've heard enough bullshit for one
day,” the commissioner said. "Let's cut
it off here. Thanks to your uncle Harry,
you are hired, effective next Monday.
Report to personnel at nine A.M. sharp,
and be advised that all new hires work
on probationary status the first six
months. If you slip up, if you can't cut
the mustard, you'll be out on your ear.”
"I'm a hard worker. 1 never get sick,
and I will do a terrific job; you will be
glad you took me."
"Enough! Get the hell out of here!"
As he staggered from the building his

silk shirt was soaked. Oh man, Disaster-
ville! But at least they didn't know he'd
been thrown in the brig for impregnat-
ing the colonel's daughter, Juliet, an
epileptic, 14 years old, with an IQ of 64.

The bridge-tender job was simple. All
Clifford had to do was sit in the bridge
house at Cermak Road and push a red
button to let a ship pass through. Still,
Clifford pissed and moaned because
they stuck him on the graveyard shift.
Harry said, “What do you expect, son-
ny boy? You're the junior tender.
You're lucky to get the job. Goddamn
it, Рт not God! What more can I do?"

"Graveyard sucks. Why do you think
they calll it graveyard? It fucks up your
body rhythms. You don’t get any
melanin, which leads to cancer, which
leads where? ГИ tell you, Uncle Harry,
it leads to the graveyard!”

“Oh, fuck you, you son of a bitch.
You don't want a job. You just want to
lift weights. You look like a cocksucking
faggot. I’m done with you!"

Harry was wrong; Clifford liked
girls. Nights he prowled the neighbor-
hood bars in a relentless search for
pussy. Like Cinderella, Clifford now
had to cut things short to punch in be-
fore midnight. Not many ships went
by during his shift, and, half drunk,
he often slept on а coffee-stained fu-
ton when things were slow, which was
almost always.

The two retractable leaves of the
bridge opened like the jaws of a croco-
dile and could clamp down with sur-
prising speed. With the push of a red
button it was up or down, up or down.
1t was Clifford's bad luck to come in
drunk on a night when traffic was
brisk. Up, down, up, down, until he
was ready to die. As the booze wore off,
the familiar black cloud draped over
Clifford's brain. He was worthless. Go
out drinking? Never again!

He felt better after the first month
on the job. One night when things
were especially slow he picked up How
to Win Friends and Influence People. The
book was a blueprint for moral renova-
tion. Clifford bought a fresh copy and
pressed it on Winston with the fervor
of a street-comer evangelist. His bud-
dy backed away. Clifford was coming
on like some sort of 12-step freak
working his program. Who wanted to
hear that crap? Clifford accepted this
without resentment. His old life was
shed like a snake's skin.

Back at the bridge house, Clifford set
to work like a human tornado. He
cleaned the windows with old terry
cloth towels and Windex. They were
covered in pigeon shit, and it took all
night. Next he hauled out the floor
scrubber and removed what seemed
like 50 coats of wax from the floors. He
put down new wax and butted it to a
diamond-hard shine. After tearing off
aged pinups, he painted the walls
powder blue, The day man, Cotton
McCormick, was not happy. The next
day he came tramping on the fresh wax
with his galoshes. He carried a bag
filled with replacement centerfolds and
tacked them to the walls.

Clifford cleaned the retrigerator, an
old-timer with the motor on the top. It
was filled with rancid food and warmer
than a swamp cooler. Clifford dumped
everything, including a partially eaten
tin of sardines. He took a screwdriver
and attacked the glacier of ice in the
freezer like a Gila woodpecker. Near
the back Clifford discovered a Hungry-
Man meat loaf dinner, two Nutty Bud-
dies and a frozen rabbit. He pitched
the lot into the river, then scrubbed the
fridge interior with Mr. Clean. When

EHE

“Fruitcake just gets you a thank-you, sugar!”

ТЕН

231

PLAYBOY

232

he plugged the fridge in again the tem-
perature dropped to 40 degrees in the
space of two hours.

Cotton hit the ceiling when he dis-
covered his “perfectly good sardines”
missing. To make amends Clifford re-
placed them with three fresh cans of
Pride of Norway sardines. The day
man put on his reading glasses and
studied the label suspiciously. Rather
than thank Clifford, he took the sar-
dines to the garbage can and slammed
them to the bottom. “Those sardines
are packed in soybean oil. Goddamn it,
did you ever eat sardines packed in
soybean oil? Soybeans are what they
feed to pigs. The whole mess tastes like
transmission fluid.”

"I don't eat sardines. I didn't know.”

“There are a lot of things you don't
know, Clifford. A whole lot. Keep your
goddamn hands off a man's food! And
what's this crapola coming in with a
pierced car and that stupid turban?”

“It's a do-rag, Cotton, not a turban.
Winston gave it to me."

A blue vein throbbed on Cotton's
neck. "You come in looking like a
damn jungle bunny. Now you're talk-
ing like one. And tell me this: How can
you man your post if you're cleaning
all the time?”

“Hey, dude, I'm sorry about the sar-
dines. I'll get you a can of King Oscars
and a box of saltines, okay? Meanwhile,
what is so bad about clean? If you think
I'm trying to make you look bad or rat
you out, tell people I'm the lazy ass and
you're the one doing the cleaning.”

Cotton had no retort, but Clifford
felt himself take a swan dive into the
dark abyss of his former life. You
could only read How to Win Friends so
many times before the chickens came
home to roost.

Not only did he continue his workouts
at Gold's Gym, he brought his own
weights to work, where he spent an-
other two to three hours pumping
iron. To make up for lost ground he
skin-popped huge doses of steroids
and human growth hormone. In a
matter of weeks he was a giant. The
drugs brought to the fore long-buried
primal urges.

He called his old girlfriend, Suzie
Q. Suzie had a low-slung ass, but her
tatas were looking fine. After Clifford
dicked her one afternoon, she told
him to ditch the cologne. “It’s worse
than chloroform. While you're at it,
lose those gold chains. You look like
Iceberg Slim.”

He felt like saying, “And you can lose
that cellulite, you fat-ass bitch.”

She had more corrective advice.
“Those muscles make you look like

some kind of S&M fairy. Back off on

the weight training.”

“You liked me better when I was a
geek?”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “Definitely. You
were smoking pot and mellow. Now
you're fucking scary!”

He sent Suzie Q a dozen red roses
the next day with a note that read,
"Dear Suz, I'm real sorry about last
night, babe. You're a real Georgia
peach. ХХХ, Cliff.”

‘There were attacks of roid гаре. Once
he clenched his teeth so hard he
cracked a molar. The dentist who
pulled the shattered tooth gave Clif-
ford a script for pain pills. That night
at work, while goofing on Percocet,
Clifford picked up his high-powered
binoculars and scanned the six-story
Hudson & Swain lofts.

Clifford spotted a brunette working
on a clay sculpture. She was a new-
comer to Hudson & Swain. She had a
cigareue in her mouth as she removed
her smock and washed the clay from

She stood at the window
extracting another Gauloise
from a blue packet as she
raised the sill for a little aix.
Jesus, what a set! Thirty-
four-Ds with no sag factor.

her hands. She disappeared from view,
and Clifford shifted his binoculars to
another floor. Suddenly the brunette
returned to the window nude except
for a white towel around her head. He
could see each and every detail.

She stood at the window extracting
another Gauloise from a blue packet
as she raised the sill for a little air. Je-
sus, what a set! Thirty-four-D cups
with no sag factor. She lit her cigarette
with a Diamond-brand kitchen
match. She took a deep drag as she
shook out the match. She must have
been about 25, and she was absolutely
gorgeous. She set the cigarette down
on a white Martini & Rossi ashtray
and removed the towel covering her
hair. She leaned forward, running her
fingers through her shoulder-length
hair, and straightened up, flipping it
back. Clifford’s dick was hard in an
instant. It pressed against the inside
of his Levi's like a pole.

As she picked up the cigarette,
Clifford pulled out his cock. The girl
snuffed out her smoke and turned

away. She had a hot fucking ass. Sud-
denly the lights went off, causing Clif-
ford to wonder if it had all been a
dream. A moment later the low-watt
bulb from her refrigerator blinked on.
Cutie Pie was now attired in a long
black Metallica T-shirt. He watched her
stand before the open refrigerator eat-
ing yogurt with a plastic spoon. When
she finished she threw the spoon and
the empty cup in the garbage. She shut
the fridge. The show was over.

The nighthawks in Hudson & Swain
knew how to put out quality entertain-
ment. Dopers in black leather jackets
occupied the third floor. Clifford
trained his binoculars on them. A pair
wearing paper face masks sat chopping
dope in the small kitchen, while others
packaged it into glassine bags. Junkies
came and went, 15 in the space of an
hour. They laid cash on the table and
retrieved 30 or so bags of powder. A
huge brute of a black dude Clifford
dubbed Big Boy stood by the door. Pe-
riodically, Big Boy peered through the
peephole and opened the door to most
of the same street hustlers Clifford had
seen 20 or 30 minutes before. A few
came in, made their buys and retired to
a shooting gallery in back. He couldn't
see what was going on in there; the
windows were covered with foil.

Clifford aimed his binoculars at the
choppers again. On the table before
them sat two handguns and a pile of
cash. When the pile grew high, Big
Boy stuffed it into a safe. Shit, it was
quite the operation. Ifany window de-
served a layer of foil it was the one
where the choppers worked. Yet who
other than Clifford had a vantage?
Still, they were careless as all hell. The
amazing part of it all came from the
throbbing rap sound of DJ Screw on
the boom box. Why not just call the
narcs and tell them what was going
on? Clifford was sure he knew where
the second-shift man, Johnny Magill,
scored. Magill regularly came to work
half-baked. It was a wonder he could
function at all.

The next night at Hudson & Swain
was a repeat of the night before. And so
it went. Night after night Clifford near-
ly creamed his jeans watching Baby.

One night a skinny pothead wearing
an army jacket and a White Sox cap
turned up with Chinese food and a
video. Baby demonstrated a certain
amount of affection toward him, but he
made no moves. Possibly he was her
brother. Both of them sat on a torn
couch, smoking dope, adept with their
chopsticks as they ate, and watched the
blue light of the TV. Looking through
the binoculars gave Clifford a blinding
headache. He shook four Percocets
from the dental prescription bottle and

(continued on page 274)

(DA layboy's (IL laymate (77

For beauty fans, 13 was a very lucky number this year

о be sure, picking a Playmate of the Year from 2003's
bumper crop will be difficult, but the task does have its
rewards: You'll need to reacquaint yourself with a year's
worth of gorgeous women and study every fine detail,
nook and contour of their dozen eye-popping pictorials. Who makes the
strongest impression? The veterinarian? The pharmaceutical rep? The
restaurateur? The lingerie designer? The equestrian? The twins? Or
maybe one of the students learning about real estate, psychology, busi-
ness or—no, we wouldn't joke about this—physical therapy. We suggest
you get started. After all, you want to do this right. And when you've made Y
your difficult choice, help her win the PMOY title by voting at playboy.com. "

YOU'LL FIND SEXY VIDEO
OF ALL OF 2003/5 PLAYMATES
АТ CYBER.PLAYBOY.COM.

Miss January
IDEN Іле
REBECCA RAMOS
"This year has been great for
5 Rebecca. Гуе been
able to travel around the
country and meet people as a
representative of PLAYBOY and
as a Hispanic spokesmodel
for Anheuser-Busch. Between
these obligations. I vacationed
in Europe and sailed in the
Mediterranean. My passions
for health, bu: and the
law will come together when |
open a new medical spa with
a group of surgeons. Thanks
Lo PLAYBOY. my options are
and the outlook for my

Miss November

DIVIM RAE

Divini has been modeling and
doing commercials, including
a national Budweiser spot, so
she can invest in real estate.
“Ive also been updating my
website, Divinirae.com. with
diar
tures for members.
“Like to sit al my computer
and e-mail my fans, I write
everyone back because thats
tI promised. I love being.
а pinup girl. It e
when guys want my auto-
graph. I'm very approachable,
and I appreciate hea
they like my layout.

Miss February
CHARIS BOYLE

Charis craved a change of
scenery. so she moved from
Virginia to a house with an
ocean view in Orange County.
California. She's been model-
ing and has appeared on Fox
Sports's 54321. "Basically
Um just trying to stay out of
trouble." she laughs. “IF I won
PMOY. I would invest. buy
something for my mom and
give some money Lo the Leu-
kemia and Lymphoma Society.
Of course. what you would do
theoretically is different [rom
what vou might do when the
money is in your hands.”

Miss March
PENNELOPE JIMENEZ

Pennelope had joked about
buving an alarm clock with
her Plavmate money. and she
did. "But I don't use it." she
says. She still managed to
arrive al. work on time as one
of Barker's Beauties on The
s Right. “Tve been
modeling for a lot of ads and
was in a 10-page spread Гога
big magazine in Spain called
DT. To this day I'm shocked
when someone recognizes:
me. It's just me. you know?
Fm just vour average jane
who shops at Target like
everyone else.”

Miss July
MARKETA JANSKA

Keep your ears open for Czech
native Marketa. who has fin-
ished recording a demo. “ILS
a mix of classical and pop in
the vein of Sarah Brightman.”
s. "I wrote the music
5. then hired musi-
cians to put it together."
Marketa appeared on the
September cover of the Czech
Republic's PLAYBOY and is
working on a calendar. "When
I first came to L.A.. | wanted
to spend just a couple of
years here. Now I want to stay
in America, but I would like a
summerhouse back home.”

Miss August

COLLEEN MARIE

Dr. Colleen continues to prac-
tice veterinary medicine in
Las Vegas. Tm getting better
at my diagnoses and reading
lab work." she says. "No one
recognizes me in the office
because 1 pull my hair back in
à bun and wear no makeup,”
After her sister gets married
next summer. Colleen plans to.
move to New York or L.A. to
pursue either modeling or
more vet duties. "I get пісе
letters from my little website.
Colleenmarie.com. If you send
me a SASE, FII sign one of my
head shots and mail it back.”

Miss September
LUCI VICTORIA

It thrilled Luci that her issue
made such a splash in her
native England. "One day they
had a big delivery in Sheffield.
and the next day they had to
order more copies,” she says.
My career is taking off. and
I'm starting Lo gel recognized
when I go out.” Luci will be
promoting Formula I racing
events in 2004 and says she'd
help her mom pay off her house
if she were Lo win PMOY. "Im
more for helping other people
than myself. Га also save
some money so 1 could keep
coming back to Los Angeles.”

DEISY TELES

Brazil's Teles twins send a
kiss to all their new friends in
ers took
al the Man-
ir fluency has
improved impressively since
they arrived in the United
States just last summer. Now

spend the holidays with their
large family in Sao Paulo. "We
want to live the life we never
had as teenagers—study for
schoolwork and not worry
about working.” they say:

Miss October
AUDRA LYNN

promotional appear-

ances in Minnesota were some

of the best attended of any
Playmate's hometown events

sue more acting if

my airet tioni Dit

daughter. 1 want to
much money as possible so I
don't have to work when 120

to college. I want to 5

chology and help abt
tims, but I'm not sure where
to go Lo school. I could be а
professional mover. because
I've been all over."

Miss June

TAILOR JAMES

“The SARS epidemic—which
was blown way out of propor-
jon—really affected tourism
in Toronto, but I am content

cutie.

ill working on a
line of lingerie to sell on my
website. Fm making all my

nufaci turi Ed GELS

so I'm jus
Tailor h

Tora indio 9 газ i
“Is about working out ad
strutting around while ever;
one in the gym watch

Miss April
CARMELLA DeCESARE

“This opportunity has.
changed my life in the biggest
и nella. “1 love

and I gol to experience so
any things al 21 that most

people don't get to in their
whole lives.” Her issue caused
a stir in Cleveland. whe

still works as a marketing rep.
“Its cute when guys recognize
me on the street. because

make ita

the signings and made Hef a
Scrapbook of my clippings.”

Miss May

LAURIE FETTER

When we caught up with
Laurie, she sounded

little hoarse from the jet lag.”
she expl; \
thinks I got а job as a phone-
sex operator." Laurie is single
now and wants to buy a house
closer to the beach. “I've been
keeping busy with modeling,
but Гуе been doing that for
years. If I won PMOY. I would
pay back my parents all the
money І owe them and make
my rounds to everyone.
thanks for the help!

PLAYBOY

244

50 YEARS OF PLAYMATES
On the facing foldout are the Playmates from Miss February 1979,
Lee Ann Michelle, to Colleen Shannon, our 50th Anniversary
Playmate. To find your favorite, locate the corresponding letter
and number on the foldout. (See page 108 for the first 25 years.)

1979

Lee Ann Michelle, February

Denise McConnell, March

Missy Cleveland, April

Michele Drake, May

Louann Fernald, June

Dorothy Mays, July

Dorothy Stratten, August

Vicki McCarty, September

Ursula Buchfellner, October

Sylvie Garant, November

Candace Collins, December
1980

Gig Gangel, January

Sandy Cagle, February

Henriette Allais, March

Liz Glazowski, April

Martha Thomsen, May

Ola Ray, June.

Тегі Peterson, July

Victoria Cooke, August.

Lisa Welch, September

1 Mardi Jacquet, October

-2 [сала Tomasino, November

3 Terri Welles, December
1981

Karen Price, January

Vicki Lasseter, February

Kymberly Herrin, March

Lorraine Michaels, April

Gina Goldberg, May

Cathy Larmouth, June

0. Heidi Sorenson, July

1 Debbie Boostrom, August

has

12 Susan Smith, September

13 Kelly Tough, October

14 Shannon Tweed, November

15 Patricia Farinelli, December
1982

Kimberly McArthur, January

6
17 X

|8 Karen Witter, March

9 Linda Rhys Vaughn, April
0

1
1
1
20 Kym Malin, May

1 Lourdes Estores, June

2 Lynda Wiesmeier, July

3 Cathy St. George, August

ооотттто тФстосотосоооо WH

C4 Connie Brighton, September

C-5 Marianne Gravatte, October

C6 Marlene Janssen, November

С-7 Charlone Kemp, December
1983

С-В Lonny Chin, January

C-9 Melinda Mays, February

С-10 Alana Soares, March

C-11 Christina Ferguson, April

С-12 Susie Scott, May

C-13 Jolanda Egger, June

C-14 Ruth Guerri, July

С-15 Caria Persson, August

C-16 Barbara Edwards, September

С-17 Tracy Vaccaro, October

C-IB Veronica Gamba, November

С-19 Terry Nihen, December
1984

C20 Penny Baker, January

D-1 Justine Greiner, February

D-2 Dona Speir, March

0-3 Lesa Ann Pedriana, April

D4 Patty Duffek, May

D-5 Trica Lange, June

D-6 Liz Stewart, July

D-7 Suzi Schou, August

D-8 Kimberly Evenson, September

0-9 Debi Johnson, October

D-10 Roberta Vasquez. Novernber

D-ll Karen Velez, December

1985
D-I2 Joan Bennett, January
D-13 Cherie Witter, February

D-14
0-15
D-16
DAT
0-18
0-19
D-20
El

Donna Smith, March

Cindy Brooks, April

Kathy Shower, May

Devin DeVasquez, June

Hope Marie Carlton, July

Cher Butler, August

Venice Kong, September

Cynthia Brimhall, October

Pamela Saunders, November

Carol Ficatier, December
1986

Sherry Arnett, January

Julie McCullough, February

Kirn Morris, March.

“Teri Weigel, April

Christine Richters, May

Rebecca Ferratti, June

Lynne Austin, July

Ava Fabian, August

Rebekka Armstrong, September

Katherine Hushaw, October

Donna Edmondson, November

Laurie Carr, December
1987

Luann Lee, January

‘Julie Peterson, February

Marina Baker, March

Anna Clark, April

Кут Paige, May

Sandy Greenberg, June

Carmen Berg, July

Sharry Konopski, August

Gwen Hajek, September

Brandi Brandt, October

Pam Stein, November

India Allen, December
1988

Kimberley Conrad, January

Kari Kennell, February

Susie Owens, March

Eloise Broady, April

Diana Lee, May

Emily Arth, June.

“Terr Lynn Doss, July

Helle Michaelsen, August

Laura Richmond, September

Shannon Long, October

Pia Reyes, November

Kata Karkkainen, December
1989

Fawna MacLaren, January

Simone Eden, February

Laurie Wood, March.

Jennifer Jackson, April

Monique Noel, May

Tawnni Cable, June

Erika Eleniak, July

Gianna Amore, August

Karin van Breeschooten,

September.
Mirjam van Breeschooten,
September.

Karen Foster, October

Reneé Tenison, November

Petra Verkaik, December
1990

Peggy Melntaggart, January

Pamela Anderson, February

Deborah Driggs, March

Lisa Matthews, April

"Tina Bockrath, May

Bonnie Marino, June

Jacqueline Sheen, July

Melissa Evridge, August

Kerri Kendall, September

Brittany York, October

Lorraine Olivia, November

Morgan Fox, December
1991

Stacy Arthur, January

Cristy Thom, February

Julie Clarke, March

Christina Leardini, April

Carrie Yazel, May

Saskia Linssen, June

Wendy Kaye, July

Corinna Harney, August.

Samantha Dorman,

September
Н-13 Cheryl Bachman, October
Tonja Christensen,
November

Wendy Hamilton, December
1992

Suzi Simpson, January

Tanya Beyer, February

Tylyn John, March

9 Cady Cantrell, April

0 Vickie (Anna Nicole) Smith, May

Angela Melini, June

Amanda Hope, July

Ashley Allen, August

Morena Corwin,

Tiffany Sloan, Оси

Stephanie Adams, November

Barbara Moore, December
1993

Echo Johnson, January

Jennifer LeRoy, February

Kimberly Donley, March

Nicole Wood, April

Elke Jeinsen, May

Alesha Oreskovich, June

Leisa Sheridan, July

Jennifer Lavoie, August

‘Carrie Westcou, September

Jenny McCarthy, October

Julianna Young, November

Arlene Baxter, December
1994

Anna-Marie Goddard, January

Julie Lynn Cialini, February

Мепаћ Davis, March

Becky DelosSantos. April

Shae Marks, May

Elan Carter, June

"Traci Adell, july

Maria Checa, August.

Kelly Gallagher, September

Victoria Nika Zdrok, October

Donna Perry, November

Elisa Bridges, December
1995

Melissa Holliday, January

Lisa Marie Scott, February

Stacy Sanches, March

Danelle Folta, April

Cindy Brown, May

Rhonda Adams, June

Heidi Mark, July

Rachel Jean Marteen, August

Donna D'Errico, September

Alicia Rickter, October

Holly Witt, Novernber

Samantha Torres, December
1996

Victoria Fuller, January

Kona Carmack, February

Priscilla Lee Taylor, March

Gillian Bonner, April

Shauna Sand, May

Karin Taylor, June

Angel Boris, july

Jessica Lee, August

Jennifer Allan, September

Nadine Chanz, October

Ulrika Ericsson, November

Victoria Silvstedt, December
1997

Jami Ferrell, January

Kimber West, February

Jennifer Miriam, March

H-1
HA

GRT

tember

I
1
т
L
1
1
1

shod

esc

55155

Sosa e

Kelly Monaco, April
K-20 Lynn Thomas, May
1-1 Carrie Stevens, June
1-2 Daphnee Lynn Duplaix, July
L-3 Kalin Olson, August
L4 Nikki Schieler, September

L-5 Layla Roberts, October
1:6 Inga Drozdova, November
1:7 Karen McDougal, December

1998
Heather Kozar, January
Julia Schultz, February
Marliece Andrada, March
Holly Joan Hart, April
Deanna Brooks, May
Maria Luisa Gil, June
Lisa Dergan, July
Angela Little, August
Vanessa Gleason, September
Laura Cover, October
Tiffany ‘Taylor, November
Erica Dahm, December
Jaclyn Dahm, December
Nicole Dahm, December
1999
Jaime Bergman, January
‘Stacy Fuson, February
‘Alexandria Karlsen, March
Natalia Sokolova, April
Tishara Lee Cousino, May
Kimberly Spicer, June
Jennifer Rovero, July
Rebecca Scott, August
Kristi Cline, September
Jodi Ann Paterson, October
M-10 Cara Wakelin, Novernber
Brooke Richards, December
2000
Carol Bernaola, January
Darlene Bernaola, January
Suzanne Stokes, February
Nicole Marie Lenz, March
Brande Roderick, April
Brooke Berry, May
Shannon Stewart, June
Neferteri Shepherd, July
M-19 Summer Altice, August
Kerissa Fare, September
Nichole Van Croft, October
Buffy Tyler, November
Cara Michelle, December
2001
A Irina Voronina, January
-5 Lauren Michelle Hill,
February
6 Miriam Gonzalez, March
7 Katie Lohmann, April
-8 Сима Nicole, May
9 Heather Spytek, June
berley Stanfield, July
Jennifer Walcott, August
Dalene Kurtis, Septernber
Stephanie Heinrich, October
Lindsey Vuolo, November
Shanna Moakler, December
2002
Nicole Narain, January
Anka Romensky, February
Tina Jordan, March
Heather Carolin, April
Christi Shake, May
hele Rogers, June
Lauren Anderson, July
Christina Santiago, August
Shallan Meiers, September
‘Teri Harrison, October
Serria Tawan, November
Lani Todd, December.
2003
Rebecca Ramos, January
Charis Boyle, February
Pennelope Jimenez, March
Carmella DeCesare, April
Laurie Fetter, May
Tailor James, June
Marketa Janska, July
Colleen Marie, August
Luci Victoria, September
Audra Lynn, October
Divini Rae, November
Deisy Teles, December
Sarah Teles, December
2004
Colleen Shannon, January

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FOR 50 YEARS THIS LITERARY LION STALKED
BUNNIES AND HUNTED PLAYMATES. A TALE
OF TWO MANSIONS, COUNTLESS BOOGIE
NIGHTS AND A DREAM ASSIGNMENT

| by GEORGE
PLIMPTON ооо

| Hef, by his own account, had less than $200 in the
bank—the total investment in PLAYBOY was just un-
der $8,000. Our group in Paris had scratched to-
gether $1,500 to start The Paris Review, a literary
magazine. Hef's first issue had the famous calendar
shot of Marilyn Monroe. Ours had an interview
with E.M. Forster, the great novelist who had not
written a novel since 1924. Within months Hef’s cir-
culation was in the 100,000s—an immediate suc-
cess, “an event waiting to happen,” in Hef’s words.

the same time, 50 years ago in the summer

H ugh Hefner and I founded our magazines at
of 1953. Both got going on a shoestring.

My angel is a Centerfold: In 1974 Plimpton photographed
model Kevyn Taylor, above, for a potential Centerfold, a
shot that elicited Hef's critique. Opposite, top: Plimpton and
Taylor, friends after the shoot, share a sun hat. Bottom: The
Paper Lion, in Topanga Canyon, wrestles with his Deardorff.

Our circulation was about 300. At its peak PLAYBOY's cir-
culation was 7 million; ours crept up to 15,000, which is
about all one can hope for with a literary magazine.

Thus it came as a considerable surprise when in the ear-
ly 1960s A.C. Spectorsky, who was the editorial director
of PLAYEOY, offered mc his job. His great passion, I was to
discover, was lounging about on sloops, and though he
was relatively young, in his 40s, he had it in mind to leave
PLAYBOY so he could float about on his yacht in the
Caribbean and such places.

Why he had me in mind for the job I have no idea.
Nonetheless 1 told him I was greatly flattered. News of the
magazine and its flamboyant founder was the talk of the
country. I told him it would mean a horrendous change for
me—moving to Chicago, giving up a writing career, which
I was just beginning, as well as forgoing the editorship of
The Paris Review. | was single at the time, which was a
plus, obviously, but on the other hand there was the prob-
lem of informing my mother—not to mention my father, a
rather stern Wall Street lawyer—that I had finally found a
decent job in Chicago: “And what is that, son?”

One of the pleasures of being offered the job was that it
gave те a number of chances to stay at Hefner's Playboy
Mansion on North State Parkway. I was fascinated by the
place—invariably by the expectation that something was
going to happen. The curtains were drawn so that one
had the sensation that it was always night. The Centerfold
Playmates stayed in the Mansion, and many of the Bun-
nies who worked at the Playboy Club lived in a kind of
dormitory arrangement on the top floor.

On my visits to see Spectorsky I was put in one of the
two large rooms on the second floor. One was the Red
Room (sometimes called the Rose Room) and the other
the Blue Room, each with matching decor. They shared a

single bathroom. The Playmate of the Month was invari-
ably in the other room; her toothbrush stood in its glass
on the sink. I never could figure out what I would say if
our visits to the bathroom coincided.

I remember my friend Jules Feiffer, the cartoonist and
dramatist, describing being shown to the Red Room by a
butler who then turned and asked Jules if there was any-
thing else he wished.

“When are the girls arriving?” he asked half-jokingly.

Nor long after, Feiffer, who had just taken a shower,
heard a knock at the door. With a towel wrapped around
his middle he opened the door and found himself face-to-
face with a lovely long-legged young woman wearing a
white blouse and white shorts.

“I had this room before you,” she said. “I think I left
my radio in here.”

“She came in and fetched it,” Feiffer said. “And that
was the closest I ever came to sex in the Mansion.”

The focus of my attention then shifted to the swim-
ming pool in the basement. There was an underwater bar
with a large viewing window that looked out on the still,
watery depths. A curved stairway led down to the Баг.
For a more abrupt descent, a trapdoor in the baronial
hall above could be raised, and one could slide down a
fireman’s pole to the floor below. I'd heard, or possibly
imagined, that the occasional Playmate—and surely the
Bunnies—got carried away and did this.

My favorite haunt was in the pool itself, behind a little
waterfall that spilled out over the mouth of a grotto. I
would creep in there and stare out through the curtain of
water, waiting for something to happen. An hour would
pass. I remember the faint smell of chlorine. My skin
wrinkled from the chill, and I began thinking of myself as
a huge predatory toad as I waited for a Bunny to come
down from the dormitory and arc, clothesless, into the
pool. If this happened, or if perhaps a dozen girls had
plunged in to caper about, throwing a colorful little beach
ball around, my plan was to burst through the waterfall,
a sudden manic apparition to their startled eyes. This nev-
er happened, of course, and after a while 1 would repair,
shivering slightly, to the underwater bar. There I would
wait a quiet hour. No one came down the pole or even
joined me in the bar. One evening, perched on a stool, 1
was startled when a tremendous crash, quite audible

My skin wrinkled from the chilly
water, and | began thinking of
myself as a huge predatory toad
as | waited for a Bunny to come
down from the dormitory and
arc, clothesless, into the pool.

through the glass, splintered the pool’s opaque surface,
and a body barely visible in its cocoon of bubbles de-
scended to the bottom of the pool. Almost instantancous-
ly a second body joined the first. Both slowly rose to the
surface, and when the bubbles accompanying them dissi-
pated I found that I was looking at two naked, very stout
male torsos (their heads remained above the surface) that
belonged, 1 was to discover later, to two comedians. Their
legs, pale in the artificial light and as fat as sausages,
struggled to keep them afloat. I turned back to my drink.

I never met the comedians. When I went upstairs, they
had disappeared like phantoms. Oddly, in my daily
rounds of the place I rarely saw anyone. I never met Hef.
He was running his empire from the great circular bed
somewhere in the Mansion. I wondered if Spectorsky had

been in to see him about his new editorial director. At one
point, as we lazed about in a calm out on the lake aboard
his sloop, he had suggested that he be the editorial direc-
tor for the first half of the year and I run things for the sec-
ond; we would alternate until I got the hang of things.

That was my last trip to Chicago. Spectorsky's invita-
tions ceased. Apparently he had found someone else. 1
was left with my memories of the place. Friends were in-
tensely curious. The Mansion was supposed to be the liv.
ing embodiment of the magazine. They'd heard that the
parties started at one A.M. and went on until dawn. Alex
Haley, the novelist, had spoken of once staying in the
Mansion and peeking out the slats of a shade to see curi-
ous people standing in the street outside and looking at
the facade of the building, half expecting, as he put it, that
an orgy would tumble out onto the streets.

“Well...tell us. What was it like in there?"

Larched an eyebrow. “The Playmate of the Month and
I shared a bathroom,” 1 said. “The Bunnies live in the at-
tic.” That was all I had to say. They turned away con-
sumed with envy.

When Hef moved the whole shebang to California, it was
altogether different. In Chicago it had obviously been bad
timing on my part. No doubt parties did go on from one in
the morning until dawn, girls with no underwear sliding
down the pole into the bar and so forth, but all that kind of
merriment had apparently happened on the evenings after I
left. On the other hand, the first time I went to the Mansion
West 1 stepped out onto the front lawn to find naked sun-
bathers, a dozen or 50, around the pool; a white llama
stepped daintily among them. On the slope beyond: African
crowned cranes, peacocks, flamingos. The living embodi-
ment of the magazine indeed! I was particularly taken by
the juxtaposition of the sunbathers and the llama, who, alas,
eventually died from eating a monogrammed bath towel.

I was there because the photo editor had asked me to
try my hand at raking photographs of potential Playmates
for the magazine’s famous Centerfold. These, along with
other candidates, would be shown to Hef, and he would
choose whar went into the magazine. The photo editor
had suggested that I disguise my entries by signing, my
transparencies with the name Henri Derrière. 1 thought
Henri Derriére as a nom de plume was a bit obvious, and
1 offered the less suggestive Charles Phillipe.

I took pictures for over a year. I’m rather ashamed to ad-
mit that I had a Playboy business card printed with my
name and the words Associate Photographer underneath.
In fact, other than showing it off to friends as a joke, | used
the card officially only once. In Tampa, Florida I brought
it out, almost on impulse, and handed it to the reception-
ist behind the desk at the hotel where I was staying. She
was very pretty. She looked at the card and listened to my
somewhat stuttered explanation. Would she like to pose?
To my astonishment, she agreed. She said, “Oh, well, ГИ
do it. For a lark!” I rushed out and rented a camera.

When she arrived at my room she shucked out of her
clothes as nonchalantly as if stepping out of a bathrobe
for a bath. She tumed out to have two prominent tattoos,
one large butterfly on her rump and a red rose on a hip-
bone. She said she'd had a “tattoo freak” for a boyfriend
and had the tattoos done “for a lark.”

“Sometimes they startle people,” she said

I was sure Hef would disapprove of the tattoos
(unless they were Playboy Rabbit Head logos), so I asked
her to arrange herself in poses that wouldn’t show them.
We tried props, the hotel Bible from the bedside table, to
hide the rose. The results, when | looked at the trans
parencies, were not encouraging—a prerty girl in strange,
awkward postures. In one of them her hand was clutched
on her backside as though, at the moment the shutter
clicked, she had been hit by a muscle spasm.

Nonetheless I put them away in my portfolio. There were
others Га taken of obliging friends doing it “for a lark.”

One friend of mine agreed to pose on the kitchen
counter amid an interesting arrangement of pots and
pans. Domesticity was the vague concept.

Hef's viewing of potential photographs for the maga-
zine takes place, or did then, in the Mansion's dining
room, a portable photo viewer set on the dining room
table, plugged in and aglow with opaque light. His photo
editors arrived with big manila envelopes, each marked
with the name of a potential Playmate and her photogra-
pher. I noticed with dismay that one of the envelopes was
marked “Henri Derrière.” Derrière! My choice of Charles
Phillipe had been overruled. It was placed with the others
on a Queen Anne sideboard.

It was fascinating to watch Hef at work. He had a brass
magnifying eyepiece engraved with his initials and M. WEST
for Mansion West. He moved the eyepiece, a kind of jew-
eler's loupe, very quickly over the transparencies that had

been taken out of the envelopes each in its turn and placed
оп the viewing panel. Не kepr up a running commentary,
often peppered with somewhat clinical evaluations: “Well,
we have a little problem with the fanny here, don’t we? It’s
a cute little problem, though,” or “The lips are nice and
full, but isn’t there a cheekbone problem?" or “I don’t
think this is the type of girl who lies against satin sheets.”

Hef then came across the first of my pictures. He start-
ed back from the table as if stunned by what he'd just
seen, and a strange sound emerged from his mouth, a kind
of strangled cough that I recognized as the laugh of a man
overwhelmed with mirth. When he recovered he picked
up the slide. “Derrière,” he said. “I am not acquainted
with his work.”

I don’t know which slide of mine created such a stir. It
might have been the one with the girl lying among the
saucepans, perhaps the young woman trying to hide the tat-
too on her behind. Whichever, my portfolio was considered
inadequate, vastly so, and the photo editor took me aside
afterward and said we'd start afresh with a PLAYBOY mod-
el who knew what she was doing, had no tattoos and
knew enough not to pose among kitchen appliances.

Hef gave me some interesting advice. Не told me that a
successful, if subtle, ingredient in the early days of the
PLAYBOY Centerfold had been the unseen pre:
man—a lover, presumably—just out of camera range. The
idea of a man being on the premises (his hat on a chair, а
pipe on a bedside table) was very much in the PLAYBOY
tradition. He showed me some examples in PLAYBOY back
issues—a man’s hand coming out of the foreground to of-
fer the Playmate a light for her cigarette, the out-of-focus
form of a man (full-length) in evening clothes reflected in
a boudoir mirror, who was, in fact, Hefner himself.

He went on to say that the practice had been discon-
tinued. In the moral temper of those times it was
thought too suggestive to have pipes and hats, much less
the image of a man standing in a bedroom door, accom-
panying an unclothed Playmate. So that sort of evidence
was removed. The girl herself was asked to provide the
suggestion in her own mind.

се of a

Say, wasn't that guy on The Simpsons? Above, from far
left, Plimpton’s Playboy Days and Nights: in 1988 with fash:
ion model Carol АН; at a Friday night fete with James Caan in
1979; as faux photographer Henri Derrière in 1974, taking
а meeting with Hefner and staffers for his Playmate shoot.

THE GREAT
PRETENDER

George Plimpton, who died shortly after fin-

ishing this article for pLavsoy, spent much of
his career trying his hand at dangerous jobs
for which he wasn't qualified. The results of
these adventures in “participatory journal-
tsm”? Disastrous, just as Plimpton intended.

BEATEN TO THE PUNCH

STUNT: In 1959 Plimpton challenges Archie Moore, the light-heavy-
‘weight champion (141 KOs), to three rounds in a New York City gym for a
‘Sports illustrated story.

RESULT: Egged on by a prankish reporter who claims that the neo-
phyte Plimpton really knows how to fight, Moore busts the writer's nose
with a few jabs seconds after the opening bell. By the end of the round,
Plimpton is weeping. Moore holds Plimpton up for the remaining rounds,
reminding the writer to "breathe, man, breathe.”

OUTPLAYED

STUNT: The writer joins the New York
Philharmonic as а random percussionist in
1967, under the direction of Leonard Bem-
stein, of whom he is “absolutely terrified.”
RESULT: While playing the sleigh bells

during a performance of Mahler's Fourth
‘Symphony, Plimpton is so overcome by
fear that he misjudges the beats

Pimpton, “out of desperation and nerves," blows it again, playing the gong
мау too loudly in Tchaikovsky's Second in Winnipeg, his final performance.

POUNDED ON THE MOUND

STUNT: Plimpton takes the field at a 1960 All-Star exhibition baseball
game at Yankee Stadium. His plan: Before the official game starts, he will
pitch to eight batters from each league. He promises $1,000 to the side
‘that gets the most hits.

RESULT: After Richie Ashbum and Willie Mays pop out, Frank Thomas
belts a soaring home run into the upper deck. After a total of eight batters
(and just two outs), Plimpton is relieved by Yankees coach Ralph Houk-
He publishes Out of My League the following year.

BLITZED

STUNT: The 1963 Detroit Lions sign Pimpton toa $1 r А 4

contract. He trains for four weeks as а 36-year-old free-
agent quarterback out of Harvard. Confident that he will
be decimated, Lloyd's of London refuses to insure him.

RESULT: The writer checks into a preseason
‘scrimmage and takes his place behind the center. Over
five plays he loses 29 yards, gets slaughtered in the
process and leaves the field as the crowd cackles with
laughter. He later scores big with the book Paper Lion:
Confessions of a Last-String Quarterback.

TOSSED OFF

STUNT: In 1970 Plimpton joins the Clyde
Beatty-Cole Bros. Circus, the largest in the
world, as a trapeze artist.

RESULT: Outing his first “fly-off” in training, he
tumbles 40 feet orto the net and injures himself,
“losing lots of meat off his face,” according to a
circus rep. At his first and only performance, in
Philadelphia, he successfully flies 30 feet through
the air and is caught by the “receiver,” only 10
crash and bum on his way back, flopping onto the
net. The stunt later airs on TV during the two-hour
special Plimpton! The Man on the Flying Trapeze.

257

Plimpton in 1998 at his home in New York City.

tip of Kevyn's nose or the tip of her breast,
say, would slide into fuzziness.

It was a sultry afternoon, and I remember
an assistant rushing out from time to time
with a towel to brush aside a swarm of sweat
bees that rose out of the grass and settled
around Kevyn's pubic hair.

From under the hood, one picture seemed no
better than another. The art department picked
the best of them, and it eventually appeared in
the magazine—not as a Centerfold, obviously,
but in color and interesting enough. It was ас-
companied by another shot Га taken of Kevyn
in a tree (which pleased me more as an alluring,
combination of shapes and shadows).

Kevyn told me the night before our shoot
that she was fond of hiking and that the best
time she'd ever had hiking was walking naked
through Big Sur, California with a girlfriend.

My heart jumped. “Naked?”

“She wore boots and socks. I wore leather
shoes.”

I asked if anyone had seen the two of them.

She gave me a glance and then said that a
couple hiking along the pine trails had spotted
them. “The guy looked up and saw me stand-
ing there. It must have surprised him.”

I grinned and said that without knowing it
she had added to the store of my daydreams,
that now I had a second sharp image го go
along with that of the girl standing in the tall
grass next to her horse.

The young woman whom the art department provided
me for the Centerfold shor was named Kevyn Taylor—
long-legged, slightly freckled, an outdoors kind of girl,
not one at her best lying against satin sheets. She was per-
fectly suited to the scene I had in mind for the photo-
graph, one of a young, unclothed woman standing in a
field, having just slipped off a horse. It’s been a daydream
thar has floated about in my mind for years, especially
during my callow youth. Even these days, the thought of
walking onto a field in autumn, hunting pheasant, а shot-
gun cradled in my arm, stirs my imagination. Such is the
magic of the Playboy organization that the photo editor
was able to provide more or less what 1 had in mind—a
meadow of waist-high grass in Topanga Canyon, Califor-
nia. A horse, though, was not provided. The male pres-
ence would have to be imagined. I suggested to Kevyn
thar she imagine that a figure heavily encased in armor
had just emerged on a horse from the field’s edge.

The Centerfold pictures are taken with ап 8"x10*
Deardorff camera—a large boxlike affair that is settled on
a thick-legged tripod, It comes with a black sheer that the
photographer drapes over the back of his head as he peers
through the camera at the focusing screen on which the
subject appears. Having raken a crash course in the іп-
strument, I never could ger used to the fact that the sub-
ject appears upside down on the screen. It was explained
to me that a camera works the way the human eye does—
the eye transmits an image that is upside down, and the
brain makes the proper adjustment. For some reason the
Deardorff does not have a compensating mirror to correct
the image, so what I saw from under my sheet was Kevyn
and the meadow disturbingly upside down. In a way I was
relieved nor to have the horse of my daydreams standing
next to her to add to the topsy-turviness of what I was
seeing on the focusing screen. Moreover, the field of focus
was so sensitive that at the slightest touch of a knob the

I never thought 10 ask what Hef thought of
Charles Phillipe (a.k.a. Henri Derrière) as a pho-
tographer. But I am in his debt for allowing me the chance
to try to photograph the Centerfold. When I give a lec-
ture, a hand goes up at the end, and invariably someone
wants to know what it's like to photograph a Centerfold.
The men lean forward slightly. It is an American daydream.

The daydream for young American women who have the
twinge to be an actress or a model always includes the
“moment of discovery"—the tap on the shoulder from an
agent or a director, very often in the most mundane of
circumstances—walking through an airport, in a park,
watching a basketball game.

Very late one night when staying at the Mansion West,
I came up from the grotto—lurking about among the vo-
tive candles—to discover Warren Beatty in the foyer, lying
оп his back just inside the door, his head resting on a
knapsack. He was apparently asleep. I have known War
ren for many years. He had been in the Soviet Union, іг
turned out, to see if he could film parts of Reds, his film
about John Reed, there, particularly in St. Petersburg,
then called Leningrad. The Soviets said he could do so if
he agreed to play John Reed in their version of the Amer-
ican Communist’ life. Warren had looked at their script,
which was patently anti-American, including flash-for-
wards to the Vietnam war. When Warren turned down the
role, the Russians denied him the locales he wanted—the
Russian scenes in Reds were eventually filmed in Finland.
He had returned from these discussions to find that his
own house was under such heavy construction repair
work that he had come to Hef's, where he knew he could
get a night's lodging. I didn’t know this at the time—only
thar he had mysteriously turned up, flat-out on Hef's
marble floors. [ went up and bent over him. “Warren,” I
said, “is that you?" His eyes snapped open. “Whigham,”
he said. “Horace Whigham.” (concluded on page 312)

“This is the ninth number we've sat out, Ronnie...don't you want
to dance or something?”

Al Franken

РУО

200

A fair and somewhat unbalanced visit with the
left's favorite court jester

PLAYBOY: Your recent book, Lies and the
Lying Liars Who Tell Them: A Fair and
Balanced Look at the Right, became a
best-seller after Fox News and Bill
O'Reilly tried to block you from using
their “fair and balanced” slogan. That
was your plan all along. right?

FRANKEN: The lawsuit was the best thing
that ever happened to the book. People
have tried to find some kind of expla-
nation for how Fox could have been
that stupid, and the best theory is that I
hypnotized them. I saw both O'Reilly
and Fox News CEO Roger Ailes when Г
spoke at the 2002 Radio and TV Cor-
respondents Dinner. I must have said,
“Within a year and a half you will sue
me, and you will forget this when I
snap my fingers.” Fox sent a letter to
my publisher threatening to sue if we
didn't remove O'Reilly's picture from
the cover, and my publisher was a little
nervous. I said, "No, they're just trying
to intimidate us. I know my rights as a
satirist. O'Reilly is a public figure, and
we have absolutely no danger of
losing.” I said our response to them
should be, “Please, please, please sue
us.” When my Rush Limbaugh book
came out I had my editor send him a
copy with a note that said, “Al thinks it
would help sales if you mentioned the
book on your show.” He did not. Rush
is a little smarter than these Fox guys. Г
can't believe how stupid they were.

2
PLAYBOY: You've called Limbaugh a big

fat idiot and dubbed conservative com-
mentator Ann Coulter a hysterical diva.
Did you miss the high school debate
club meeting in which the moderator
warned against personal attacks?

FRANKEN: No. I wrestled and 1 was in
the drama club. 1 do personal attacks
only on people who specialize in per-
sonal attacks. Like when Limbaugh
said that the Clintons not only have a
White House cat, they have a White

Interview by Warren Kalbacker

House dog and showed a picture of
then-13-year-old Chelsea. That's be-
yond the pale, and fuck you, Rush. It's
now open season on you, and I can call
you fat. Somebody had to get into the
mud with him and stop him. It's just.
the bully on the playground. You stand
up to the guy, and he wusses out.

PLAYBOY: Cable news displays a vora-
cious appetite for talking heads. Are
the standards too low to enter punditry
these days?

FRANKEN: What's too low are the expec-
tations of a pundit. A lot of punditry is
getting an intern to get you two articles
on school vouchers. You read them
and you're an expert on school vouch-
ers. Then you argue your side for three
minutes. One of the huge ironies of 24-
hour cable news is that for some reason
they just don’t have enough time for
your interview. I discovered this while
promoting my book. “I wish we could
have had you on longer, but we have
just five minutes.” It's 24-hour cable! If
I were to design a 24-hour cable net-
work, there would be a little more
breathing room.

PLAYBOY: The Bushes, father and son, at-
tended Yale. The Frankens, father and
daughter, graduated from Harvard.

Don't you just love the tradition of
alumni legacies at prestigious colleges?
FRANKEN: My daughter got in on merit.
So did I, since my dad didn't graduate
from high school. When I was at Har-
vard I noticed there were a lot of lega-
cies, and some of them weren't the
smartest kids in the class. But I never
heard a Cabot or a Lowell complain that
this legacy thing made them suspect,
which is supposedly why affirmative ac-
tion is so bad, because African Ameri-
cans feel, “Oh, I hate affirmative action
because people think I didn't deserve
to get in.” I never hear black kids com-

plaining about it; I hear white people

saying that black kids complain about it.
My kids aren't off-the-charts brilliant;
they're just really smart, hardworking,
interesting kids. But that doesn't as-
sure admittance, because things are so
competitive these days. I don't think it
hurts to be the child of a celebrity.

PLAYBOY: Were the seeds of liberalism
sown early in your life in Minnesota?

FRANKEN: My dad was a Republican.
He voted for Herbert Hoover twice.
In 1964 he became a Democrat be-
cause of Barry Goldwater's stance on
civil rights. My dad was a card-carry-
ing member of the NAACP. We're Jew-
ish, and during the whole civil rights
thing he'd say no Jew could ever be
against civil rights. That was pounded
into us. There are real Minnesota
roots there. In many ways I'm still a
Hubert Humphrey Democrat—some-
one who believes in afflicting the com-
fortable and comforting the afflicted. A
society is judged by how it treats the el-
derly, the sick, the impoverished. To me
it's a matter of ethics and compassion.

PLAYBOY: Were you astounded by the
battle over the Ten Commandments-
engraved rock being removed from the
Alabama state supreme courthouse?
FRANKEN: It was pretty funny, the state
chief justice defying a court order. It's
cut-and-dried. The public square is not
a place to put religious symbols. Reli-
gion has thrived in this country be-
cause we have separation of church
and state. Theocracies? Notice how
well Iran is doing.

PLAYBOY: Can we assume that you're
not a proponent of school prayer?

FRANKEN: If you want to pray in school,
pray to yourself. 1 went to public school
until 10th grade, and then I went to
a private school that was founded
around the turn of the century as а

PHOTOGRAPHY BY DAVID ROSE

PLAYBOY

262

school for Protestant boys. They started
letting in Jews in the 1950s to keep the
SAT scores up. We had chapel in the
morning. I honestly liked chapel, but I
didn’t sing the hymns, because they were
Protestant. So at the end of math class
one day my teacher said, “Franken, I no-
tice you don't sing the hymns in chapel.”
I told him I was Jewish and there was a
lot of Jesus in there and it would be dis-
respectful to the hymns themselves to
sing them if I didn't believe them. I
pulled that out of my ass. He said, “You
want to get into a good college, don't
you? You're going to need a good math
grade. I'd sing the hymns.” And the next
day 1 was singing “Onward Christian
Soldiers” as loud as anyone.

PLAYBOY: You're a golfer. Do liberals ex-
hibit a propensity to nudge the ball to a
better lie because they perceive it to be
disadvantaged?

FRANKEN: Some poll of CEOs found that
something like 82 percent of them cheat
at golf. I'm not good, but I like playing. I
caddied as a kid. 1 was in Tampa recently
and gave a speech to some insurance
sales execs, and I played golf with them.
I hear Clinton was pretty good. Sure he
was: "That's a gimme.” [laughs]

PLAYBOY: You earn a substantial portion
of your income on the corporate lecture
circuit. Have you become a court jester
to the country club set?

FRANKEN: Almost all the corporate groups
1 speak to are anywhere from 60 percent
to 95 percent conservative. 1 always start
off with, “It's great to be speaking to you

insurance executives. And looking out at
your white faces, it's great to see that this
group hasn't given in to all that affirma-
tive action nonsense." And they always
laugh. Then I say that I'm a liberal but
Гуе discovered Democrats can't afford
me. They howl at that, because it makes
them feel rich. Then I make fun of them,
they laugh, and then they pay me. Every-
one wins. I can say anything I want. It's
just about how I frame it. I go after them,
but they love it because people have an
actual sense of humor in this country. Try
working a Dutch audience sometime.

PLAYBOY: Now that Bob Hope has de-
parted the scene, will we be seeing Al
Franken entertaining the troops every
Christmas?

FRANKEN: This Christmas I'm going to
Afghanistan and Kuwait. We're not going
to Saudi Arabia, but we are going to Iraq,
and I think we can take cheerleaders
there. It will be my fourth time entertain-
ing overseas, but I've never been this far
forward. I went to Kosovo while there
was still some shooting. I was shot at. We
were going over the Sar Mountains in a
helicopter. I could see the tracers, and it
made me really nervous. But the guys in
the helicopter didn't seem nervous. They
get shotat, and they take evasive action. 1
love our men and women in uniform,
and it breaks my heart that they're get-
ting killed day in and day out and that
the president lied to us about why we
were going to war, There was a case to be
made about this war—Saddam defied
the UN for 12 years—if Bush had only
treated us like adults.

“Lighten up! It's fake fur.”

PLAYBOY: Ridicule and pranks—two ways
Al Franken seeks to raise the level of
public discourse?

FRANKEN: I like to ridicule bad people.
Ridicule is one of the arrows in my quiver
I dont play pranks that much. The prank
in my book about Bob Jones University
was actually my wife's idea. She thought it
would be funny to take our son down to
Bob Jones as if he were looking at it. It's a
really right-wing, Christian nutcase sort
of place. This was when they had a ban on
interracial dating. I just wanted to be in
an information session and ask questions
like "Could Tiger Woods date anybody?
Could he even go out with himself?" It's
amazing how restrictive the place is. Girls
and boys aren't even allowed to touch.

rLarsoy: Why did you challenge a Na-
tional Review editor to a fight?

FRANKEN: I saw Rich Lowry say on C-Span
that liberals have sissified politics. I called
him the next day and challenged him. He
said, “A fight? Where would it be?” I told
him itwould be in my parking garage. He
asked about the rules. I said, “No rules.”
He asked if I fought a lot. I told him I'd
never fought, but I knew I could beat his
ass because I wrestled in high school and
he looked like a wimp. I don't believe in
fighting, but if someone accuses us of sis-
sifying politics, I figure I've got to stand
up for Democrats. I also wanted to shame
the guy. I knew he wouldn't fight me. He
seemed so scared and confused.

PLAYBOY: Now that you've climbed into
the rhetorical ring with all those guys, do
you have your own fanatical followers?
FRANKEN: When I wrote the Rush book, I
was very worried that some Limbaugh
dittohead would sucker punch me at the
signings. So I always looked down the
line and tried to pick out the weirdest-
looking guy, and invariably he'd turn
out to be my biggest fan.

PLAYBOY: Do you see yourself ever hold-
ing office?

FRANKEN: No. I would be crushed by
the sense of responsibility. Voting on
whether to authorize the use of force is
a big decision, especially on a close call.
I don't know if I could handle that.
That's what you're doing when you
elect someone: You're giving them the
opportunity to handle it.

PLAYBOY: David Brock, an author known
for his anti-Clinton works, recanted in
Blinded by the Right. What would it take
for Al Franken's name to appear on the
masthcad of National Review or The
Weekly Standard?

FRANKEN: A concussion.

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PLAYBOY

264

тілүвоу: We keep hearing the phrase
“What would Jesus do?” Any ideas?
FRANKEN: I have some idea from my un-
derstanding of the New Testament and
The Dummies’ Guide to the Life of Jesus.
I know that Jesus wouldn't be doing
what this administration is doing. Jesus
talked about helping the meck, he talked
about the poor, and he talked about
mercy and compassion.

PLAYBOY: You make your home on Man-
hattan's Upper West Side, an area well-
known for its liberal population. We
might not expect those people to con-
nect with NRA types, but couldn't they
find some enjoyment in Nascar?

FRANKEN: I don’t believe that some
knowledge crowds out other knowledge,
so there's certainly no harm. I was
amazed when my daughter and I went
down to Charlotte to see Duke play in

“Yes, well...perhaps Madam would prefer a somewhat smaller
brooch with that particular dress.

the ACC finals—we're both big Duke
fans—and Nascar was on the radio. I can
see maybe sitting and watching the cars
go in a circle and learning the fine tech-
niques of racing. But listen on the radio?

PLAYBOY: You own a trove of Nixon mem-
orabilia. Do you really miss the guy?
FRANKEN: He was a better president than
the one we have now. A lot of people say
he was a terrible domestic president be-
cause of Watergate but a good foreign
policy president because of China. I
think he was a terrible forcign policy
president because of Vietnam buta pret-
ty good domestic president. When the
Republican revolution auempted to dis-
mantle the government, it was really
Nixon stuff they were going after. He
started OSHA. He started the EPA. Ex-
cept for his paranoia and anti-Semitism
and all that stuff, he wasn’t so bad. I
really loved his resignation, though.
Man, he was a great comedic character.
When Tom Davis and I started in come-
dy, we did so much Nixon material that
we would switch off playing him. If
Nixon were talking to Henry Kissinger,
Тот would be Nixon. If Nixon were talk-
ing to David Eisenhower, ГА be Nixon.
That's how much Nixon we did.

PLAYBOY: You were present at the cre-
ation of Saturday Night Live in 1975.
Could you have predicted that it would
still be on the air today?

FRANKEN: I got to SNL the first day of the
show, when Lorne Michaels and the
writers came in. At the time, the only
comedy-varicty shows were Carol Burnett,
which was a very good show but totally
different generationally, and Sonny and
Cher, which was a piece of shit. I know
Sonny died, but he should be ashamed.
I met Danny Aykroyd and Gilda Radner,
and I said to myself, This is going to be a
huge hit. They were a generation of co-
medians who had grown up with TV
and had a certain attitude about its
bursting the dam. Of course, that was
youthful hubris. Now that I've been in
show business for 30 years, I know not to
think something like that.

PLAYBOY: On SNL, you announced that
the 1980s were the Al Franken Decade.
Did things work out okay for you in
those 10 years?

FRANKEN: The 1980s were a great decade
for me personally. Both my kids were
born then. But this decade is very good
for me too. I'm working on the Al
Franken Millennium. 1 would like to be
here for the end of the millennium to see
what effect 1 have on things in 2999.

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mailer
(continued from page 198)
If that becomes a woman's deepest
sentiment within a pregnancy, who has
the authority to declare she is in error?
She is, after all, convinced that her on-
coming creation is evil. This may be the
extreme case, but what of the woman
who knows that her vanity is still so con-
sumed with the need to maintain her
youth and freedom that she senses how
badly she would rear her child? A wom-
an can have an honest recognition that
she is too selfish or too timid or in too
desperate a situation to bring an infant
into the world. That much self-honesty
can become the first step in becoming
more human or, at least, more adult. For
rare is the woman who has an abortion
without suffering her private horror.
The counterattack to the Right to Life is
that no man has the authority to forbid
abortion until we come to the end of all
wars. Otherwise, since God is always оп
our side in war, it must be God’s desire
that we look to exterminate strangers en
masse. Such slayings are highly organized,
of course, but they are first cousin to ter-
rorism. We are killing people we know
nothing about. We are also destroying
full-grown humans into whom God may
have put much interest and much intent.

GAY MARRIAGE: FAMILY VALUES?

Civil marriage for homosexuals is one
more problem to divide liberals and соп-
servatives. The prejudice runs deep.
Most heterosexual men and women feel
they have paid a life price to duty and re-
sponsibility by the act of getting married.
So their resentment is profound. Why
should gays enjoy the pleasures of the
sybaritic yet have the civil and economic
protections of marriage as well? The
answer—and it will take more than one
presidential election before these mat-
ters can be discussed openly—is that
mutual comprehension and tolerance
between heterosexuals and gay people
may begin to come into being only after
gay couples have taken on the yoke of

marriage and, by adoption, children. In-
deed, the saving irony to convince a few
conservatives is that the desire among
certain homosexuals to seek out the con-
straints of marriage does speak of an in-
nate pull toward domestic cohabitation.

Besides, there is a more forceful argu-
ment. Itis that in a democracy, everyone
feels the need to find out who they are,
what they are and in which ways they
can live and identify themselves, Is this
not the theme underlining the Pursuit of
Happiness? It is worth adding that every
child adopted by a gay couple no longer
has to spend his or her years in an or-
phanage. If that child might face special
difficulties because the parents are gay,
the question to ask is whether the prob-
lems encountered will prove more dire
than growing up in an institution.

‘THE BUSH CREDO:
WAR IS MORE GODLY THAN WELFARE

It is still an outrage. Compared with oth-
er industrial powers, we do not have a
comprehensive safety net. Indeed, much
of the brouhaha over affirmative action is
but the visible tip of the iceberg. Relative-
ly restrained, the opponents of affirma-
tive action give barely a hint of the deep-
er aversion many of them feel toward
blacks and, to a lesser degree, Hispanics.
The real target has always been social
welfare. There were men and women on
the right who were enraged that whole
sections of the population seemed con-
tent to raise large one-parent families
and live off the government. Since their
anger was often fueled by their own hard
lives, they found it obscene that others
did not have to work as conscientiously.
Let us eschew the bona fide reply that
notall idle hands were happy to live with
welfare. Once again, it is worth taking
up the rightwing argument on its mer-
its. They would be the first to say that
work is a blessing. Let us assume it is. By
such logic, the real suffering for those on
welfare is, precisely, that they are de-
prived of that blessing. For the average
human, white or black, man or woman,
itis probably more difficult to live on the

dole than to work. Boredom and shame
do the work instead on the soul.

Can we stare into the center of the
real moral issue? A nation indifferent to
social welfare, a land so fevered with the
free market that it would forgo all safety
nets, a country without concern for its
poorest members, deserving or undeserv-
ing, has become a society with distorted
values. Whether one is full of belief in a
higher authority or feels no belief, the
basic notion, all flaws granted, is that
democracy is still a system which assumes
all human beings are of value. The con-
cept is noble. But if the emphasis is on our
own rights atall costs and we have become
so swollen in our egomania that we are in-
different to the homeless sleeping on the
street, even furious at the fact of their ex-
istence, what kind of freedom are we then
offering to the tyrannized of other coun-
tries? Bogged down in the grease-soaked
sands of Iraq, we have transported our-
selves to a future of large taxation to small
purpose. We will have to pay off Bush’s
extravagances. Why? Wasit, at worst, that
ifall else failed, we could keep our budget
deficit so big that we would never be able
to provide a safety net? One of the an-
swers to why we are at war in Iraq may be
there. The harshness in the voice of the
talk-radio motormouths gives a clue.

FOREIGN POLICY:
GET US OFF THE DANCE FLOOR

We are at a major turn in our history. It is
possible that the Republican and Demo-
cratic parties are at the edge of an up-
heaval of ideologies, a schism in each of
our two major political configurations
that will bend every one of our notions to
Left or to Right. Will old-line GOP finan-
cial conservatives be in serious conflict
with their own radical right? Will there be
existential Democrats in rebellion against
the rigidities of political correctness?

Ever since FDR, the Democratic par-
ty has been internationalist. So were
most Republicans. The power of their
corporate center enabled them to with-
stand intense isolationist sentiments in
their own ranks.

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PLAYBOY

268

Following the end ofthe Cold War, the
triumph of the Corporate Economy en-
couraged a vanity until recently that the
Corporation is a morally estimable body.
One manifestation of this sense of supe-
riority is physical presence. The world is
now teeming with aesthetically neutered
monuments—precisely, those high-rise
hotels and offices that surround every
major airport and capitol in the world,
those monotonous, glassy behemoths
coming forth as the virtuous architec-
ture of the new corporate religion, an Fl
Dorado of technology.

One fundamental error has begun to
rock the globe. It was assumed by us that
the most powerful of these corporate en-
tities, that is to say, America, knew what
was best for the rest of the world. The
US. was ready to solve the problems of
every nation, all of them, all the way
from old Europe to the flea- and fly-bit-
ten turpitudes of the third world.

It could be remarked that the men
who set sail with Columbus in 1492 had
more idea of where they were going.
The best to be said for the gung-ho cap-
italistas of the Bush administration is
that they taught us all over again how
extreme vanity is all you need to sail
right off the edge of the world.

You cannot bring democracy to tyran-
ny by conquest. Democracy can be nei-
ther injected nor imposed. It comes into
existence through a long rite of passage.
It has achieved its liberty by the actions of
its own martyrs, rebels and enduring be-
lievers. It is not a system, itis an ennoble-
ment. Democracy must come from with-
in. Brought into oppressed nations by
way of external force, it collides with all
the habits those tormented populations
were obliged to develop, those humiliat-
ing compromises that came from submit-
ting to an ugly and superior force. Now
all of that has been jammed into an
abruptly ground-up grucl of chopped
psychic reflexes, even as a strange people
arrived from outside in mighty machines
with guns attached, new people whose
motives one could not trust. How could
one? The prevailing law within a tyranny
is to trust nobody. There have been too
many shameful adaptations within one-
self, as well as decades of long-swallowed
rage. The recollection of humiliations
early and late has been incorporated into
the psychic core. Existence has been im-
prisoned too long in the Virtual Reality
imposed by the tyrant.

We did not have an administration who
could comprehend that. We came in with

‘And now—Silent Night.”

our guns, our smiles and our assumption
that democracy was there to hand over to
these Iraqis. Our gift! Our form of Virtu-
al Reality, superior to yours!

The truth is, we don't belong in any
foreign country. We are not wise enough,
honest enough with ourselves nor a good
enough nation to tell the rest of the world
how to live—indeed, such a nation has
never existed. But even if we were just so
fabulous, so unique, other humans would
still not be ready to savage their national
pride for the dubious joy of receiving our
crusade against evil. We would do well to
become a little more aware of Christian
militancy that marches into war against
any evil but its own.

HOMELAND SECURITY: WILL WE EVER LEARN
ТО LIVE WITH ARITHMETIC?

The time has come to solve our own
problems, our ongoing American prob-
lems. We have a direct need to focus on
ourselves over the coming span of years
and thereby become less displaced from
reality. For we are the most mighty of all
the nations, and we are secure. Despite
all, we are relatively secure. We can ab-
sorb new terrorist attacks if they come.
We do not need military invasions into
foreign lands to protect us. From 1968
through 2000, the world suffered an ау-
erage of 425 terrorist incidents a year, ге-
sulting in an average of 321 deaths annu-
ally. In 2001, however, came 9/11. Three
thousand lives were lost. A huge number.
Yet in that same period, 1968 to 2001,
Americans suffered more than 40,000
deaths each year from auto accidents.
So even in 2001, there were 13 times as
many deaths resulting from auto acci-
dents as from terrorist attacks. If it be
asked why such focus is now being put on
automobile mortalities, it is because such
tragedies are not without analogy to los-
ing one's life to a terrorist. You leave your
home, you kiss your wife good-bye, and
you are dead 10 minutes or 10 hours
later. For those left to grieve, there seems
not enough reason to such death. Not
enough logic! More than any other event
in our lives, our own demise excites just
such a need for logic in those who re-
main. Lung cancer, we know, kills 155,000
people a year. That is nearly four times
more than automobiles, but we can com-
prehend that. We are ready to decide that
cigarettes or working with asbestos has
something to do with it. But death with-
out any grip on an explanation bothers
people more, It does no good to tell our-
selves that 2.4 million people die each
year in America. We are fixed on the
3,000 lost humans of 9/11. They seem
more important. In truth, they have been
so important to America that we have
come to what may be another point of
no return. Will we continue to protect
our freedoms, or will we conclude that
all effort must go to saving ourselves from
every conceivable form of terrorist at-
tack? The second course pursued to

you're caught жа: т Hea

ke them both suffer

PLAYBOY

270

conclusion will lead to nothing less than a
unique variety of fascism. Brownshirts or
Blacksbirts will not be needed. Our only
certainty is that whatever it will be called,
fascism will not be the word. Should Bush
remain in office, we can count on Virtu-
al Reality to suggest the face of the new
regime. But then, that is the essence of
fascism—you must give the populace a
version of cause and effect that has very
little to do with how things are.

The question, then, is whether we will
be brave enough to dispense with for-
eign adventures. We know, or we should
know, that any nation looking to attack
us has to face the might of our armed
forces. Any nuclear attack from North
Korea or Iran would be an absolute dis-
aster for either. Our power to retaliate is
awesome. When it comes to terrorist at-

tacks, however, we are also at the mercy
of our deteriorating relations with the
rest of the developed world. Military
forays are not the answer—you do not
wipe out terrorists with airplanes and
tanks. Rather, we will be obliged to use—
that dreaded term!—collective efforts to
build an international police force ready
to guard against major attacks compara-
ble to 9/11. Even the best of such collabo-
rative organizations will not prevent small
terrorist acts, any more thana local police
force can root out all local crime. But to
be able to counter a terrorist effort on
the scale of the Twin Towers, a global po-
lice system with a worldwide network of
informants can be developed. It is one
thing for terrorists to succeed in suicide
bombings; it is another for them to find
the necessary cadres, skills and materials

"I was enjoying the party. Why do you have to be the first
one to get off in ihe new year?"

to bring off an immense coup against
the sophisticated forces of proscription
that can be put in place. Al Qaeda took
several years to prepare 9/11! Since we
will, however, never be able to prevent all
minor attacks, it is illogical to be ready to
sacrifice our remaining liberties in order
to search for a total security that will nev-
ег come to pass. Terrorism, in parallel
with cancer, isin total rebellion against es-
tablished human endeavor. If democracy
ever did begin to work in Iraq, the inci-
dence of terrorist acts would, doubtless,
increase. Suicide bombers are stimulated.
by the presence of the enemy, whether
that presence is foreign soldiers or a po-
litical system that is anathema to their
beliefs. Should Islam ever take over Amer-
ica, our own Christian fundamentalists
would be the first to become terrorists.
American freedom now depends on
what we learned in elementary school.
We must live with arithmetic! Over the
last three years, 850 Israelis have been
killed in suicide bombings, ambushes,
sniper attacks and gun battles. That, by
rough calculation, is one Israeli in 20,000
for each of those three years. If we in
America were to suffer at the same rate,
we would, given our population, which is
roughly 50 times as great as Israel, suffer
approximately 14,000 deaths a year. That
comes to one-third of our American loss
of life from automobile accidents. Short
of a major disaster, we are not likely to
face 14,000 such deaths a year. We do not
have the daily problems that Israelis have
with Palestinians and Palestinians with
Israelis. We have more freedom to ex-
plore into what we can become asa nation.

FIGHTING THE MIND THAT 15
INSIDE THE BRAIN

Karl Rove, the man whom many consid-
er the mind inside George W. Bush's
brain, is on record with his hopes for a
20-year reign of the GOP. If that is not to
take place, the need of the Democrats—
itis worth repeating—is to be able to ap-
peal to the best and most thoughtful of
the conservatives. The time has come for
us to understand that not everyone to
the right is on the hunt for more money,
more power, more conquest and more
worship of the flag. Not every conserva-
tive is for suburbs scourged by blank-
faced malls, nor is every conservative
ready to cheer every corporation that
puts its name on a new stadium for pro-
fessional athletes. Not every conservative
believes that our God-given mission is to
needle the serum of democracy into na-
tions with no vein for democracy. No,
there are conservatives who believe that
the U.S. has been boiling up an unholy
brew under the lid of the corporate pot,
conservatives who believe that educating
our children is degenerating into a near
to autistic mess, conservatives who do
not think that all the answers to crime
can be solved by building more prisons.

No, there are even conservatives who

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would argue, just like Democrats, that
no matter how much we spend on our
schools, they don’t seem to be working.
"There are conservatives who have sensi-
tive feelings on these matters—as sensi-
tive as the Democrats’, by God. Yet, nei-
ther side knows how to speak to the other.

Still, this variety of conservative—
decent not bigoted, open to discussion
rather than given over, body and soul, to
talk radio—is also aghast at the uneasy
but real possibility that George W. Bush
might be the worst and most unqualified
president America has ever had. Yes,
such conservatives, whatever their num-
ber, are in the same state of inanition and
ideological impotence as all those De-
mocrats who cannot believe where the
country is going. Let us as Democrats
consider the possibility that such conser-
vatives can also be part of a future in
which Democrats draw their political sus-
tenance from the best ideas of Left and
enr At present, that is not easy to be-
ve, but there are new political concep-
tions in the air, ideas that have not been
hardened into the iron load of ideology
that sits upon the elephant's head and
the donkey's saddle. This country was
founded, after all, on the amazing notion
(for the time) that there was more good
than evil in the mass of human beings,
and so those human beings, once given
not only the liberty to vote but the power
to learn to think, might demonstrate that
more good than evil could emerge from
such freedom. It was an incredible gam-
ble. All society until then had assumed
that the masses were incapable of exercis-
ing a wise voice and so must be controlled
from the top down.

That wager has remained alive through
the two centuries and 20-odd years of
our national existence, and ойеп it has
seemed that the result was affirmative.
Now doubt is with us again. In 2004 we
will face what could become the most im-
portant election in our history. Since our
candidate will never have funds to equal
the bursting coffers of an opposition in-
flamed by power, bad conscience and all
the Virtual Reality of religious funda-
mentalism itself, the election will be a
most furious contest between their mon-
ey, sel£righteousness and mental rictus
scalding down on us, versus our hope
that moral revulsion still exists in more
than half of our voting public, enough to
let us succeed, despite all our own impu-
rity, in overthrowing the corporate
colossus on the other bank. May our wit
be clean, our indignation genuine and
our ideas new enough and fine enough
to pierce the caterwaul of political adver-
tising that will look to flood our cam-
paign down the river and over the falls.

YOUR Н

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WATCHTOWER

(continued from page 232)
swallowed them with mineral water.
When they kicked in half an hour later
he was back on the watch.

Now Baby was holding hands with the
skinny guy. What was the deal with that?
Nothing morc than a little hand-holding.
Maybe the guy was a homosexual suffer-
ing from AIDS. It seemed likely. When
the stupid little fairy finally left, Baby
took her shower and made her appear-
ance before the window. She stood ca-
ressing her breasts a moment or so. This
was new. Was it some kind of weekly
breast exam? She lifted her arms as she
removed the towel covering her hair.
This provided a five-star view of those in-
credible breasts. Clifford trembled as she
caressed her belly and the tops of her
thighs. Christ, she was turned on. She
was going to go frig herself off!

Instead she repeated her Gauloise
ceremony. Four deep drags before
snuffing out the butt in the Martini &
Rossi ashtray. Looking out into the
black void, Baby had no idea that the
king of voyeurs had her in his
crosshairs. He watched her stretch her
arms and let go with a long, luxurious
yawn. She did the perky ass pivot,
Killed the lights, and the show was over.
It was a no-yogurt night. No doubt she
was frigging off. As she went to bed
with rock-hard nipples, what other ex-
planation was there? He wanted to bust
the door down and say, “Look, I can
see you're jerking off, no doubt fanta-
sizing about cock. I got a hard-on.
What say we get it on, baby?"

Suddenly Clifford heard air horns
from the river below. He hit the button
and watched a salt barge clear passage.
He hit the button again, and in less than
a minute the car traffic resumed. It had

snowed through the night, and he
watched fluffy flakes spin through the
air, no two alike; another mirade from
the magical universe that wasn't so mag-
ical without Percocet.

When his shift was over Clifford
walked to his apartment and abused
himself twice before he closed his eyes
and watched Technicolor cartoons play
out on the back of his eyelids. He was
amped up on Percocets and the delirious
chemicals of infatuation. No matter, he
would take what he could get. Oh Christ.
she was beautiful!

He woke up at three the next afternoon
feeling like death warmed over. He took
three Percocets with a cup of instant cof-
fee and within 15 minutes was back on
top of the world. He rushed over to the
Hudson & Swain building to scan the
mailboxes for her name. Maura Michaels,
had to be Maura Michaels. Clifford
walked nine blocks to the House of Roses.
He tried to order four dozen long-stem
red roses for her loft. The florist told him
his MasterCard was maxed out. There
was enough moncy on his Visa card to
cover three dozen roses, “Okay, fine,”
Clifford said as he penned a note. “То
Maura with love. Your secret admirer.”
By the time he got to work he was
kicking himself for writing such a lame
piece of crap. “Your secret admirer,”
what kind of shit was that? He began
scanning Baby's apartment the second
Johnny Magill punched out, but it re-
mained dark clear through dawn, when
he heard Cotton's heavy feet tread up
the stairs to begin the morning shift.
That bitch! No doubt she was out
fucking some sleazebag on the assump-
tion the roses came from him, or who-
ever she had been banging last, or
maybe the guy before that. A thousand

"Could we have a few more minutes? We're exchanging
Christmas gifts."

or more! What a slut! He might have
known. Christ, what an idiot he was! He
gives his own mother a $4 bouquet
from Dominick's along with a "Sorry
I'm late" birthday card, and he sends
three dozen roses to a whore.

His mother, Christ. The last time she
bailed him out he had promised to
shovel her walk whenever it snowed.
Clifford felt a pang of guilt over that
one but not enough to make conces-
sions or amends. Bridges were burning,
but he was running nonstop on the
hamster wheel of life. All of his pocket
cash went for injections of testosterone
and that fountain of youth—human
growth hormone. To get the ampheta-
mine rush from the stuff, he had to use
more and more, until he was exceeding
the recommended dosage 200-fold. He
couldn't drop it cold turkey, and his ef-
forts to wean himself were in vain. Shit,
he was spending more on hormones
than a junkie with the biggest habit on
the South Side. One minute things were
under control, and then suddenly the
whole shithouse came down. He felt
like a supersonic jet pulling 10 gs in an
all-out screaming nosedive. Like a
doomed rocket manned by Daffy Duck.
He could feel himself smash through
the earth’s crust, bore through layers of
packed sediment and superheated rock
until he came to a grinding halt at the
planet's core. Steroids. Juice.

Maura was not home the next night,
either. Sitting alone in the bridge house
while she was out cheating on him was
almost more than he could bear. Heart-
broken, he scanned the third floor of
Hudson & Swain. The bloods had DJ
Screw going strong again. The door to
the cutting room was wide open and so
was the door of the safe. DJ Screw. The
fucking shit was driving Clifford nuts.

It seemed like an out-of-body experi-
ence. He patted the blackjack he carried
in his side pocket. From on high he
watched himself stalk out of the bridge
house determined to exact retribution.
He crossed the street, and then it was up
the cigarette-and-syringe-strewn stair-
way to the drug den. Ding-dong. He saw
a shadow cast over the peephole. Big
Boy asked, “What it is?”

“Your pizza," Clifford said

“We didn't order no goddamn pizza.
Plus, I don’ see no pizza in your hand,

motherfucker, make that fried

Big Boy opened the door with a gun
in his hand. “ГИ pop a cap in your ass
right now,” he said.

“Go ahead, do that. Every cop, SWAT
team and National Guard will burn you
to the ground.”

“Get the fuck out of my face! I ain't
goin’ tell you twice. Get lost!”

Big Boy dropped his vigilance for a
second, and Clifford clocked him across
the skull with the blackjack. Rage was

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PLAYBOY

276

packed behind the blow, and now the
motherfucker was stretched out on the
floor bleeding.

Two of the dopers at the cutting table
reached for the Glocks lying no more
than an arm's length away, but Clifford
hit the room like a thermite grenade.
He grabbed both cutters by their thin
junkie necks and smacked their heads
together. The cutters sank to the floor as
if they'd been shot. Clifford heard the
frantic scuffling of shoe leather. He
grabbed both guns and went back to in-
vestigate. He found nothing but an
open window and shadows of junkies
running over the Cermak bridge. They
were running over his bridge!

He returned to the cutting room,
where he scooped up a bag of cash and
two bags of powder. On his way out he
fired five rounds into the ghetto blaster,
putting an end to DJ Screw.

Back in the bridge house his ears rang
from the gunfire. Still, he heard a pair
of boats blaring their air horns from the
riyer. He pushed the red button. The air
horns gave way to the sound of sirens
and the screeching tires of squad cars,
blue lights flashing as they surrounded
Hudson & Swain. Clitford secreted the
Glocks, dope and cash behind a trick

"If I have two glasses, I can feel

door he'd discovered when he painted
the walls, the stash hole where Magill
hid his marijuana.

It took three hours for the police
to clear the crime scene. Thanks to DJ
Screw, Big Boy was going to pay through
the nose for a lawyer and a bail bonds-
man. Well, he had it coming. You don't
fuck with the kid and live to tell about it.

When the cops were gone, Clifford
went back to the stash and pulled out the
dope for a taste. He'd started sorting the
cash in piles of $10s, $20s and $50s when
a euphoric glow replaced the adrenaline
rush occasioned from his violent rip-off.
He was calm for the first time in months.

The cash added up to $19,000. His
rash actions had provided a way out of
his financial bind. He took another taste
of heroin, ran to the bathroom to puke
and then lingered with his head on the
toilet seat. He closed his eyes and found
himself in seventh heaven.

It was nearly eight А.М. when he
emerged from the toilet. He quickly
stashed the dope, guns and cash into his
backpack. He heard Cotton trudge up
the stairs, punch in and pour coffee into
a mug his granddaughter had given him
for his 58th birthday. He took a sip and
spewed coffee from his mouth like Oliy-

But if I have four glasses,

anyone can feel it.”

er Hardy in one of the old Laurel and
Hardy farces. He said, “This coffee tastes
burned. Why didn’t you make fresh? It's
not like you've got anything better to do.
Hey, what's so funny, bub? You look like
the cat who swallowed the canary.”

“I did, Cotton. I swallowed the yellow
bird whole.”

"The next afternoon Clifford deposited
$3,000 into his checking account. He
wrote checks as partial payments to the
three credit card accounts. He paid Win-
ston his growth hormone debt in cash
and then breezed down to the House of
Roses. It was eight degrees out, but the
old neighborhood felt like paradise. He
sent six dozen red roses to Baby and a
dozen yellow roses to his mother. He
shucked out limp and greasy junkie-
handled bills in payment. Yeah, the
money was greasy, but even that was
righteous. He didn't give two shits about
the petty day-by-day. After another snort
of heroin he puked twice (hey now, is
that cool or what?), and then he flipped
WLS on the radio and bopped around
the kitchen in stocking feet. Goddamn it,
muh fuck, let's get down!

That night at work, kicking back on H,
Clifford caught the next episode of the
Baby show. “You lookin’ fine, girl. I'm
goin’ make you mine, girl!" He flashed
on the dope den. It was black and devoid
of action. Oh ho ho haw!

Clifford called in sick the next day. He
caught a cab over to Michigan Avenue
and gota $100 haircut. So much for the
mullet. He hadn't even known it was a
mullet until the stylist told him. He
bought an Italian suit, size 52, and gave
the tailor an extra $200 to rush the job.
He bought a pair of shoes, a $300 dress
shirt and a $400 silk tic. He paid for
these in greasy junkie bills. He bought a
carton of Gauloises and a $900 solid-
gold lighter, a steal. The lighter generat-
ed a superheated laser beam, and ac-
cording to the salesman it was fail-proof
in hurricane-velocity winds. What Clif-
ford liked most was the lighter's car-
door-sounding click. It was irresistible,
and it took a blister on the thumb to stop.
him from clicking. Late the next morn-
ing, clicking his new lighter left-handed,
Clifford called in sick again. He Michael
Jackson-voiced и. “Hi, Gloria, it’s Cliff
again. I don't know what's wrong with
me. Boy, if it wasn't February I'd swear I
have West Nile," he said.

“There's a lot of flu going around,”
she said. “Take all the time you need,
and you be careful, big boy.”

Big Boy! Ah ha ha ha.

Clifford taxied downtown and tried
on his new suit. He looked great in it.
Soon he was climbing the steps to Baby's
loft. Bolstered on heroin, he rapped on
her door. The door opened, and there
she was, alive and in living color.

She wore a black turtleneck and

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black leotards under a short gray skirt, a
beatnik outfit. She was taller and more
beautiful than he'd expected.

Hi, Miss Michaels, my name is Cliff
Grimes," he said. "A pal of mine in the
art world has been raving about your
work. I'm sorry to bother you vithout a
formal introduction, but he got me so
excited, 1 just had to drive over."

“Who is your friend?" she asked.

"Mick Magill. He's a collector."

*How come 1 don't recognize the
name? I know everyone in the Chicago
arts community."

He looked past her and said, "You've
got a lot of flowers in there.”

Maura lit a Gauloise and said, “I take
it you want to come in and look at my
work.”

“Sure,” he said.

“Did you just get out of prison?"

“Prison?”

“You're huge. Only men in prison
have enough time to cultivate big mus-
cles like yours.”

“Maura, come оп.”

“Never mind,” she said. “lake a look
around.”

Clifford stepped inside, shaking a
Gauloise out of a blue packet of his own.
He flashed the gold lighter and with his
sore thumb torched the Gauloise with a
red laser beam. “Looks like we smoke
the same brand,” he said.

“People in my business all smoke
id. "We conform in our ec-

He studied her pieces with fierce con-
centration, nodding his head once in a
while. Best not to open his big mouth.
Soon Maura was talking about her work,
her inspiration, her hopes and dreams.
He didn't look at her legs, tits or ass. He
focused on her eyes, her forehead and
her eyes again. He listened. He smiled
now and again. She began to preen
"They shared a couple of laughs. After
Clifford bought four ridiculously inept
sculptures, he asked her out for dinner.
Maura replied that she should take him
out to dinner given the magnitude of his
purchase. Dinner, Saturday night. Set-
tled. How much better could this tumul-
tuous hell on earth get?

He ordered a town car and took her
to Rush Street. He let her pick the
restaurant and, as they ate, let her do
most of the talking. Her parents had
been well-to-do. Once as a girl they had
taken her to Europe on the Queen Eliza-
beth П, then they flew home on the Con-
corde. A month later her father and
mother were killed in a car wreck on the
way to church. A backseat human pro-
jectile, Maura had been launched
through the vindshield.

Maura began to sculpt by carving bars
of Ivory soap in her hospital bed. Simple
stuff—a duck, a camel. She joined two
moistened bars of soap (*a big innova-
tion for a kid") to form a block. She

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PLAYBOY

280

sculpted busts of her parents as she re-
membered them. She told Clifford that if
she focused her attention on the figures
she was making, the pain of life couldn't
intrude into her consciousness. She said
she had never given the full version of
her tragedy to anyone before. Clifford
nodded sagely, then said, “Sometimes
it’s easier to tell a stranger.”

“That's so true!" Maura said. “It
seems like I've known you all my life.
Are you a Sagittarius?”

Maura kissed Clifford that night. She
let him cop a feel on the second date. By
the third date she took him to her bed,
where, thanks to the heroin, Clifford
couldn't get it up. Maura gave him a
hand job. From the sculpting, her hands
were as rough as a construction work-
er's. When he didn't respond she
squeezed his cock as if she were choking

a chicken. With that kind of action he
knew he wouldn't come in a million
years. She went down on him like a pro-
fessional dick sucker. Just before he
came she begged off, claiming her jaw
hurt and she had drunk too much wine.
As she began to snore Clifford went into
the bathroom to facilitate himself.

After he got back to the bridge house,
her apartment remained dark for eight
days. He left phone messages that were
not returned. Finally he showed up at
the studio one afternoon, catching her
home at last. He gave her the gold laser
lighter she so admired. Why not? He
hated smoking. She was so pleased, she
asked him if he wanted to lie down.

“Lie down?”

“Yeah,” she said, taking his hand as
she led him toward the bed. He couldn't
get it up despite the Viagra. She said she

PLAYBOY COLLEGE

FICTION CONTEST

The Rules:

First Prize: $3,000

and publication in
the October 2004 issue

Second Prize: $500

and a year’s subscription

Third Prize: $200

апа a year’s subscription

1. Contest is oper to all college students—no age limit. Employees of Playboy end their families, its agents ond
affiliates ore not eligible. 2. o enter, submit your typed, double-spaced manuscript of 25 pages or fewer with a3"x5"
card listing name, age, college olfilialion, permanent home oddress and phone number to Ployboy College Fiction
Contest, 730 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10019. All entries must be previously unpublished original works of fiction
‘and must be postmorked between December 1, 2003 ond Februory 15, 2004. 3. Decisions of the judges ore final.
Playboy reserves the right to withhold prizes if no submitted entries meet ils usual stondard of publicolion. 4. Winners
will be notified by mail and may be obligoted о sign ond return on affidavit of eligibility within 30 doys of notifico-
tion, By occeptance of their prizes, winners consent to the use of their nome, photograph and other likeness for pur-
poses of advertising, trade and promotion on behalf of Playboy without further compensation to the winners, un-
less prohibited by lav. 5. Playboy reserves the right to edit the first prize-winning story for publication. 6. Playboy
reserves the right lo publish winning entries in US. and foreign editions of pursov and fo reprint or incorporate them.
in any electronic or print English-language or foreign-edition anthologies or compilations of puro materiol without
further compensation to the winners. 7. Void where prohibited by low. 8. All monuscripls become the property of
Ployboy and will not be returned. 9. Taxes on prizes are the responsibility of the winners. For o list of winners, send а
заодно, stomped ervelpe lo Мао College icon Contest, 730 НИ Avenue, Hew Yoik, NY 10019- yy

felt congested and asked him to eat her
pussy. After 20 minutes of this, she said,
“More pressure.”

“Huh?”

Now she was exasperated. “More
pressure. You're a big guy, use more
pressure. Jesus Christ!”

He was a big guy, but he couldn't do
push-ups with his tongue. He really
didn’t know what he was doing down
there. His limited access to air made
him snort like a hog. At last she came
from the friction of his nose rubbing
against her clitoris.

Back at work the next night he'd
hoped to scope out the Baby show but
saw the fey dude in the Metallica T-shirt
wave Maura over to a telescope! He was
too stunned to move. Suddenly she was
staring back at him. She flipped him the
bird and killed the lights in her loft.

It took Clifford a week to get the nerve
to call her, but he just got a phone com-
pany recording that said the number
had been disconnected. He went across
the bridge and knocked on her door.
Nothing. He half knocked it down and
still nothing. "Goddamn it, son of a
bitch, motherfucker!”

He started down the stairway and was
dealt a concussive blow on the back of his
head. He got the full star show as he
tumbled down the stairs. Soon the blue-
steel barrel of a .44 was working over his
head, while his body was being kicked by
a total of six combat boots. Then every-
thing went blank.

When he came to, Clifford found him-
self bound in а chair in a dark room. His
mouth was covered with duct tape. A tall
man wearing a ski mask pointed a Mini
Maglite in his face. “I want the money,
the guns and the good,” the tall man
said. “Where is it?” He ripped the tape
from Clifford's mouth.

“1 got the guns and most of the dope,
but I spent the money.”

“Wrong answer. 1 want to hear the
right answer.”

“I told you, I blew the money."

‘Two sharp blows to the face. Clifford
swallowed a tooth with a mouthful of hot
salty blood.

“I don't want to hear that fucking shit.
I want the good, brother. The good.”

"There's a way," he said. “I know a
way."

"You find the way, you give us the
good, and you can go back to your
strange little life."

He was led outside and pushed into
the back оГа gray Mercedes. They drove
him to his apartment and collected the
dope and guns. Next stop was his moth-
er's house. The old woman, fresh from
chemotherapy treatment, got the bad
news. She sat next to her son in the back.
of the Mercedes as they drove to the
bank. She took out a second mortgage

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on her house, converted it to cash and
handed the tall man $19,000.

Driven to the driveway of her twice-
mortgaged home, Mrs. Grimes stag-
gered into the house, locked the door
and wet her pants on the hardwood floor.

Meanwhile, the thugs dropped Clif-
ford in the hospital parking lot. Two
days there and he was shipped to detox.
From there it was in-house rehab. He
had full medical, so the stay cost him
only $70, which he had to borrow from
mother. He had more than exhaust-
ed his sick leave, but given the nature of
his situation, other tenders contributed
toa sick-leave pool on his behalf. He lay
in his mother's house watching Oprah,
drag-assing between the couch and re-
frigerator until the end of June.

In July he returned to his post on Сег-
mak, though he could hardly stand. In
between button pushings he rested on
the floor. The wax was fragrant still. One
nice thing, he had done a good job on
the floor. He felt as if he would die. Day
after day it was the same routine. By
midsummer he was feeling a litle better,
though he was unable to reestablish соп-
tact with the higher power. It was a bleak
and godless universe.

In early August Cotton had a hernia
operation, and Clifford filled in for him.
He wasn't used to bright sunshine and
the heat of summer. He sat in the bridge
house with his binoculars. There had
been three jumpers that month, there
was a full moon, and he was told to be on
the lookout for anyone gathering his
nerve. The advice was ironic, since Clif-
ford wanted to jump himself.

"The river smelled of rotten carp. Clif-
ford needed to hit the floor again, but a
barge was coming down river. He could
lie down and get up in five minutes, but
that would entail doing а sit-up to right
himself. So he stood waiting on frail,
toothpick legs. Since he quit the juice,
and since he had been away from the
gym, he'd lost so much muscle mass that
he was just a gray bag of skin. He pushed
the button, and as the cement barge
chugged through the oily waters, Clif-
ford spotted three dead dogs in its wake,
bloated like sausage boiled to the point
of bursting. They were medium-size
dogs, one black, another gray and the
third—whew, the third!—a rotten blob
of golden fur without shape or form. In
the dogs Clifford saw dimensions of
death no mortal was meant to see.

Meanwhile, horns blared on Cermak,
punctuated by psychotic screams of
murder. The sun shimmering off the
chrome bumpers and trim was blinding.
Drivers stepped out of their vehicles and
shook their fists at Clifford, who stood at
his post in the watchtower feeling nine
inches tall. The air was saturated with
misery; the room spun, the dying carp
ARE Clifford pushed the red button.

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PLAYB

284

JACK NICHOLSON

(continued from page 88)
PLAYBOY: Now, when you're not working,
what's your life like? Do you often go out
to sec new movies?
NICHOLSON: I like to see them, but I've
been working a lot. I haven't seen many
for a while.
PLAYBOY: Are there actors whose work
you are watching?
NICHOLSON: I'm not much for lists. I
could make one, but it would be counter-
productive. There's no shortage of great
people. They don't give us work because
they can't get someone else.
PLAYBOY: Are you or is anyone else worth
$20 million or $25 million a movie?
NICHOLSON: I don't think they are into
giving out charity.
PLAYBOY: Even so, do you ever reflect on
the amounts you earn?
NICHOLSON: I lived in this house when I
didn't have a nickel, and I'm still here,
so that hasn't changed. It's ephemeral.
1 get a guarantee against a percentage
of what a movie makes. Often, once
they have my involvement, the rest of
the pieces come together. That’s the
way the business works. For the most
part, my movies have exceeded the
guarantee that's given me, so I’m not
reaching into somebody else’s pocket.
Гуе always tried to make dealing with
me a bargain. One of the oldest princi-
ples is that if you want to be successful,
be sure your partners make money.
Mine do. I've been good for the movie
business, and, sure, it's been good for
me. That's why they call people like me

“the money.” I've always been uncom-
fortable with it, but it’s the way it is.
“Where's the money?" I am the money.
As the money, you had better under-
stand wbat the money is. Through intri-
cate interrelationships, it has become a
part of the moviemaking process.

But am I giddy with success? Yes is the
sbort answer. I don't do much with it,
but [gesturing around the room] here's
some art. Most people who look at this
don't know that's a Picasso. Most people
standing right in front of it think it’s a
poster. That's a Dalí. The Met had that
for a while. So I have my own little mu-
seum, and it's nice to have, sure.
PLAYBOY: How many Lakers games have
you been to?

NICHOLSON: I couldn't count.

PLAYBOY: What do you get from going?
NICHOLSON: It's entertainment. I can't
just sit in my room. 1 enjoy going. I
thought I migbt bave been a sports-
writer when I first got out of school.
PLAYBOY: Is tbe lack of anonymity a
downside to your success?

NICHOLSON: There's no downside. We all
seek attention in the first place, and you
don’t get to complain about it after you
get it.

PLAYBOY: Many actors with your level of
success at some point seem just to go
through the motions.

NICHOLSON: That's just bad work.
PLAYBOY: But how do you keep motivated
after nearly 50 years in this business?
NICHOLSON: With me it's pretty much i
stinctual. Г don’t think I have much
choice. At the same time, my friend
Elmer Valentine used to say, “Jack, some

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“Tt’s a sliding scale. How happy a New Year are you looking for?"

people score and they don't know it. We
scored and we know и.
PLAYBOY: Are you ever tempted to quit?
NICHOLSON: Always. The people around
me tease me, because in the middle of
every picture I say, “Thisis it. I've had it.
This is the last one.” At some point 1 will
quit. Maybe now. I don’t have any plans
to make another movie.

PLAYBOY: How likely is that?

NICHOLSON: Not likely.

PLAYBOY: Why? Do you get bored?
NICHOLSON: Almost never. But why quit?
"This is a Darwinian business in a Darwin-
ian world, and maybe I think 1 should
keep doing it because I can. When some-
one overtakes me and I can no longer do
it, ГЇЇ bow out gracefully. 1 never want to
overstay my welcome. It's always made
clear to you in the movie business when
your welcome is over.

PLAYBOY: Has it been hard to watch
some of your peers who have over-
stayed their welcome?

NICHOLSON: [ baven't noticed. I guess
that means I'm kind of insensitive.
PLAYBOY. Marlon Brando, your neighbor,
has made some ill-advised comebacks,
playing caricatures of himself.
NICHOLSON: There's nothing ill-advised
for Marlon Brando. He is a horse of a
different color. He can do what he wants.
PLAYBOY: Do you see him often?
NICHOLSON: We don't hang out much
lately. We're like the perfect neighbors.
We don't go to the bowling alley togeth-
er, but we watch each other's back.
PLAYBOY: In a review of About Schmidt,
the L.A. Times wrote: “[Schmidt is a]
nowhere man at the end of his run, and
be might not grab your attention if not
for the fact that the senior citizen with
the exquisitely anguished comb-over
and the potato physique is played by
Jack Nicholson.” It’s high praise, but
“potato physique”?

NICHOLSON: I thought I was never going
to recover. I thought, Goddamn, is this
it? It was frightening.

PLAYBOY: 10 prepare for the role, did you
allow yourself to eat whatever you wanted?
NICHOLSON: No. Unfortunately a lot of
that has to do with acting. It’s not all,
“I'm going to eat lemon meringue day
and night.”

PLAYBOY: In general do you eat what
you want?

NICHOLSON: I'll never be able to eat what
I want. I'll never get around to prefer-
ring salads. I will never crave butter let-
tuce, I crave butter, cream, steak.
PLAYBOY: Do you have less energy for
work—never mind for sex—than when
you were younger?

NICHOLSON: 1 had boundless energy. Who
cared when 1 went to sleep? Now I care.
PLAYBOY: Does it piss you off that you
don't have the same energy?
NICHOLSON: Oh, yes. It's like anything
else. You don't know wbat you had unul
115 gone. I can't hop, skip and jump апу-
more. I can't run two miles. The diminu-

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tion of a man’s powers is very, very hum-
bling. You live on barbed wire and bug
juice until you're 28, and there's no
price to pay. After a certain point you pay
for everything.
PLAYBOY: Do you fight it or go with it?
NICHOLSON: I fight it to the degree that I
think it's healthy. Recall the old Chinese
ing "A man does not fall in love if he's
keep that in mind, and now I do
yoga every morning.
PLAYBOY: Somehow Jack Nicholson and
yoga seem anathema.
NICHOLSON: Yeah, but it's fighting back.
After 20 years in a row of waking up and
looking over and saying, "Well, I'm not
going to work out today; ГИ try tomor-
row," it eventually sinks in. Yoga kicks.
me over at the beginning of the day. I
want to have a realistic view of myself.
I'm probably never going to know where
the world is, but I like to know where I
am. There's always that whispering voice
in your head that you don't always want
to listen to. However, it's pretty much a
source of your integrity and truth. Га
like to hear it as well as possible.
PLAYBOY: Have you generally been able
to hear it?
NICHOLSON: Yes, though I spend а сег-
tain portion of my waking hours in self
delusion. I'm either overinspired or
underinspired. I am influenced by peo-
ple and thoughts. However, I'm pretty
comfortable with my own thinking. I
don't feel too rigid or flighty.
PLAYBOY: Did having a heart attack in
Something's Gotta. Give, though it was for
the camera, shake you up?
NICHOLSON: Lying on the ground, I vas
very vulnerable. "The minute I lay down
on the gurney and looked up at Keanu
Reeves [who plays the ER doctor], I
knew where I was. You know what I'm
saying? One of the things I don't like to
do at my tender age is to be portrayed as
a beached whale lying on the ground,
and that’s exactly what I do in the new
movie. Lying there—vulnerable, ex-
posed, helpless—represents everything
dropping away, and it's terrifying. Noth-
ing is more pulverizing in life than a
brush with the grim reaper, I'm kind ofa
fraidy cat in that way anyway. I wouldn't
call myself a hypochondriac, but I've
had moments of feeling a lump under
my arm and thinking I'm going to vomit
and pass out in the shower.

When people of your own genera-
tional group begin to appear in obituar-
ies, you sweat. On the other hand, it's

just another part ofthe rogues’ gallery of

characters. I can keep my distance from
it that way. It's a job. It's another role,
another character—like the devil itself.
And people have a certain affection for
the guy who played the devil.

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"Some say Гт a sandbagger, that I avoid contact. I
think of it as the old Muhammad Ali rope-a-dope.”

need nine combines in the ri
have two. We got seven to go.”

Frank Bren, the driver of American
Spirit, runs up, his T-shirt and hands
soaked dark with motor oil, sweat and
crusted blood. “We're not going to make
it,” he tells the judges. “We can't get a
hydraulic line changed out.”

A judge reads the names of the com-
bines still expected in the arena. "You're
pushing the time limit,” he says. “And
you're pushing the judges.”

Rambulance enters the ring, dragging
a flatrear tire. Red Lightnin’ makes it in.
The Silver Bullet limps in. As the round

. We only

starts, Red Lightnin' rams Rambulance,
and sparks fly from the hit. The Silver
Bullet digs its header into the front tires
of J&M Fabrication. Rambulance loses
its rear axle. Mickie Mouse loses a rear
wheel. J&M Fabrication rams head-on
into Red Lightnin’. Then Rambulance
butts headers with J&M so hard that the
rear ends of both combines bounce three
feet into the air, Mickie Mouse snags Red.
Lightnin’ hard enough to rip both rear
wheels off, then pops а front tire. The hit
rips the header off Mickie Mouse, and
Davis drops his flag. He sits, sprawled in
the driver's seat, his arms spread and his

“I got suspicious when you said you were going out to do
an angel in the snow.”

face tipped up at the dark sky. Rambu-
lance drags itself around a field littered
with bolts and scraps of metal. The Silver
Bullet and J&M Fabrication slam Red
Lightnin’ so hard that the hit kills the Sil-
ver Bullet. Then J&M drops its flag.

While we wait for the wreckers to
clean up and the winners to enter for
the final showdown, Thompson throws
more T-shirts into the stands. A huge
orange moon comes up and seems to
stop, balanced on the horizon.

The winners from the first three
heats and any surviving combines enter
the arena. It's full dark, and the red
flags next to each driver look black, out-
lined against the smoke and dust. The
radiator is failing on BC Machine, and
the little Massey 510 combine is lost т a
cloud of white steam. The engines of all
eight combines roar together, and the
final heat begins.

Right away Little Green Men loses its
rear end and sits dead in a corner, Jaws
rams the rear end of Beaver Patrol,
killing it on the spot. BC Machine darts
around the ring, filling the arena with
steam from its spouting radiator. As
a Burlington Northern freight train
speeds past, blowing its whistle above the
demolition noise, Jaws finds itself stuck,
its header hooked under the dead rear
end of Beaver Patrol. Porker Express
crushes the ass end of Mean Gang-
Green. The Turtle hides out, sitting with
its rear wheels braced against the edge of
the ring, where no combine can hit it
vithout forcing it into the packed crowd.
The Porker Express stops, dead. The
"Turtle ventures out to hit Rambulance,
which now has no rear axle. In a corner
Little Green Men sits dead, Cochrane's
silver radar dish still spinning.

Hiding out at the edge, number 11,
the Turtle, isn't a crowd favorite. "Some
say I'ma sandbagger,” says Schoesler, its
driver. “That I just avoid contact a little
too much, I like to think of it as the old
Muhammad Ali rope-a-dope. Lay on the
ropes and let them pound you where it
doesn’t hurt. And if there’s an opening,
you jab them and then retreat. It's
worked pretty well over the years."

For Schoesler, who represents the
ninth legislative district in the Washing-
ton state house of representatives, the
derby is a chance to campaign. He's
planning to run for the state senate.

“Being an elected official always gen-
erates a few jabs,” he says. "All in fun, I
hope. And a winner from a previous
derby is a marked man. Having won in
the past, I'm a target. Being an elected
official makes me a double target."

In the arena now, BC Machine still fills
the air steam, and sparks shoot
from its engine. The Turtle hides back,
safe against the crowd of spectators.

ном

Below is a list of retailers and
manufacturers you can con-
tact for information on where
to find this month's merchan-
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equipment shown on pages
52, 57-58, 188-195, 196—
197 and 315, check the list-
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MANTRACK
Pages 57-58: Brunswick, 800-336-8764
or billiards.com. Chronicle Books, 800-
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Pages 188-195: Armani Jeans, armani
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Pages 196-197: Barry
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William Yeoward square base flute and
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cessories: Double stem flute, from Bar-
meys New York, 312-587-1700. Opener and
stopper, from Christofle, 877-728-4556 or
christofle.com. Tray, bucket, champagne
saver by John Hardy Collection, and
napkins, from Elements, 877-642-
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Perrier Јаша, allieddomecqwines.com. Pol
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quot, clicquot.com. Bollinger, Dom Perignon
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Rambulance drops its flag. Mean Gang-
Green rams the Turtle, driving it back
into the crowd. J&M Fabrication rams
the Turtle, and the dead combines sit
black and wrecked, just obstacles in the
dark smoke- and steam-filled arena. The
Turtle tries to escape and ends up
pinched between Good ОГ Boys, Mean
Gang-Green and J&M Fabrication. BC
Machine stops dead but with its radiator
still steaming. The Turtle escapes, leav-
ing its three attackers to slam one anoth-
cr. The header on J&M is still factory
perfect, but the combine has no steering
left in its ass end. You can smell hot,
biter brake fluid, and J&M Fabrication
stops with Miller stooped down, trying
to restart the engine. The header drops
off Mean Gang-Green, and Hardung is
out. The Turtle still hides at the edge.
Good ОГ Boys can hardly steer.

As the clock runs out, the judges rule.
The money for first and second place is
split between Mean Gang-Green and the
Turtle. Good ОГ Boys takes third.

By 10 RM. it’s over, except for the seri-
ous drinking. Already cowboy boots kick
up dust on their way to the parking lot.
Country music mixes with hip-hop, and
the air turn nk from thousands of tail-
lights and brake lights waiting to turn
onto the highway.

Terry Harding and the team for Red
Lightnin’ say, “Find us come midnight or
one o'clock, and we'll be blitzed.”

Kevin Cochrane will go back to study-
ing agriculture at Washington State.

Frank Bren will go back to driving his
grain truck.

Mark Schoesler will no doubt go back
to state government for another term.
And the combines—Red Lightnin’, Jaws,
Beaver Patrol, Orange Crush—will sit
parked and rusting until it’s time to fix
them and crash them and fix them and
crash them, again and again next year.

This is the way the men of Adams
County come back together. The farm-
ers now working at jobs in the city. The
families spreading apart. The kids whose
shared years in high school get further
and further behind them. This is their
structure of rules and tasks. A way to
work and play, together. To suffer and
celebrate. To reunite.

Until next year, it’s all over. Except for
tomorrow’s parade. The rodeo and the
barbecue. The stories and the bruises.

“They'll all be walking stiff tomor-
row,” says derby organizer Carol Kelly.
“They'll have sore shoulders and arms.
And their necks, they'll barely be able
to turn their heads.”

She says, “Of course they get hurt. If
they tell you otherwise, they're lying so
you think they're tough."

FEAR & JUSTICE

(continued from page 156)
hard and elite corps of writers and edi-
tors and even beautifully naked women
who made it happen and have kept it
happening for more years than many
of our current READERS have been alive
That is weird on its face for any maga-
zine, and definitely for one that 50
years ago boldly published a stunning
naked portrait of a Hollywood super-
in its first issue.

"That was Big, very Big, in a culture
and a country that believed in its own
Puritan traditions and savagely puni-
tive laws and nonforgiving way of life
that had been handed down, decade af-
ter puritanical decade, from the insane
cruelty and brutal superstition that
spawned the infamous Salem witch tri-
als, which formed the original basis of
the same Criminal Justice System that
governs us today.

We are a 227-year-old warrior nation
that was born and bred on the same diet
of social revenge and drastic punish-
ment that have been the main pillars of
all Christian churches since the begin-
ning of time. This is dangerous nonsense
to most people alive today, but it was de-
cidedly not that way in 1953, when a
shocking naked image of Marilyn Mon-
roe was introduced to a profoundly un-
certain American magazine audience,
when the first Korean War was happen-
ing and when any naked woman in any
Mainstream Magazine in this country
was just about Impossible to expect or
even conceive of without going to jail. It
was out of the question. Nobody would
dare to try to do a degenerate thing like
that. On top of everything else, it was
clearly against the law. Nobody could ar-
gue with that.

But you did, simply by printing the first
issue of PLAYBOY, defying every rule and
tradition on the American political spec-
trum. Nobody was for PLAYBOY, nobody
supported it, nobody even expected it to
publish a second issue, which remains one
of the genuinely historic and singularly
heroic accomplishments of the 20th cen-
tury. Very few people thought it could
possibly happen in this country, and even
fewer dared to support it. PLAYBOY was
radical, bubba. It was way over the top, for
sure, and it was just as surely doomed, be-
cause all the preachers said it was Wrong.

Fuck those people. They were wrong.
But their hearts will never change and
neither will ours. So what? We are cham-
pions, and we can prove it.

Your friend,
Hunter

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LOYALTY

(continued from page 106)
dozen 55-gallon drums of shit in there
waiting to be buried.”

“And ‘RIP Dragon’ written on one of
the drums. Is that how it adds?”

“That's my arithmetic. I figure Dr.
Maurie told Dragon he'd send him home
rich, then took the guy down instead.
Fella like Maurie, he'd kill you sooner
than let you put the squeeze on him.”

“And who got on the airplane with
Dragon's passport?”

“My bet? One of the sons. Cousins,
there's probably some resemblance. Be-
sides, something like this stays at home."

“That's why you quit on Jack?”

"Hey, after this one, a nice real estate
deal, that sounded just right. And even
so, I've been scared all these years Mau-
rie was gonna come for me vith his meat
ax or his latrine shovel or whatever it
was he had in that briefcase. That's why
this tale never got told. I mean,” Elstner
said, looking across the table, “how can
you tell anyone a story like this?"

So that was what my pal Paul Elstner had
told me several years before. By now |

was seeing a good deal of Paul, because 1
had left Clarissa. I barely got out at first,
but one of Paul's partners had deserted
Elstner on their season tickets for the
Hands basketball games over at the uni-
versity, and I was happy to buy in.

Like most people who split up, 1 had
told myself that I was starting a new life,
a better life, a life in which Ud finally
become my true self, but turmoil con-
sumed most of my private moments,
confining me within walls of pain. 1t is
such a mystery, really, that you can stop
loving someone. You grow up believing
love is one of the epic forces of nature,
like tidal patterns and the creeping of
the earth’s crust, an indomitable ele-
ment. So how can it just go away? 1
would turn this question over in my
head for hours at a time, sitting in my
bare high-rise apartment and watching
the city twinkle desolately at night.

I didn’t know if I had married Clarissa
for the wrong reasons or if she had
changed, with the babies, the years at
home, the death of her older sister and
her mother. I could not explain why a
somewhat wry, laconic woman, whom
I'd found thrillingly bright when I first
met her, became so obsessed with her
children’s health that barely a week

passed without a visit to the pediatrician,
or why at the age of 40 a person who had
been a defiant atheist returned to the
Catholic Church and insisted, with the
same ferocity with which she had once
spurned religion, that the boys be bap-
tized in a faith I did not share. I could
not explain any of it, the passions or the
quirks that had grown unbearably grat
ing over time, but we had ended up like
most couples who don't make it—embit-
tered rivals who saw each other as em-
blems of life's shortcomings.

My sons had remained with their
mother. At all moments, I seemed to feel
them behind me, like passengers left on
some pier. They were both in high school,
a sophomore and a senior. I felt awful for
them. But I felt worse for myself.

I moved into an apartment building in
Center City, not far from work. The
building’s population was mostly young,
late-20s just-getting-starteds. I was weird-
ly aware of the number who moved out
each week. Gommon sense suggested
that they had fallen in love and were re-
locating to begin a life with someone else.
The sight of furniture on dollies, of bags
and boxes piled in the service elevator,
seemed to seize all of my attention, like
somebody calling my name

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I turned into one of those people who
arrive home for a night alone, carrying
as much as possible—the cleaning, some-
thing I'd had repaired and a few gro-
ceries for dinner. Twice a week I saw my
sons. The other nights I tried not to
drink too much, certain that this cata-
clysm would finally make me the gentle
alcoholic my father was in his later years,
always waiting for sunset and the first
manhattan. I had been told that women
would find a successful single man in his
late 40s magnetic, but I felt 100 sad even
to start in that direction. Eventually, I
began attending the kind of tony intel-
lectual events around the city at which
I'd envisioned myself when I first came
here for law school and which Clarissa
for years had derided as a complete
bore—art openings, symphonies, lec-
tures. There were few singles at these
events, and 1 often felt out of place, but 1
was desperate to make some effort at
self-improvement.

One of these evenings, involving a
fund-raising dinner and a reading by a
poet celebrated in circles too narrow to
mean much to me, was held in the West
Bank condo of old acquaintances, Leo
Levitz, a shrink, and his wife, Ruth,
whose industrial-design firm has been
an off-and-on client of mine for years.
In their late 60s, the Levitzes had
achieved an enviable settled grace.
Vivid paintings and objects of primitive
art they'd gathered from around the
world crowded the track-lit corridors
of their apartment. Alone, I studied
each piece, deeply struck that a conge-
nial married life could be reflected by
such tangible beauty.

By 10, the gathering had thinned and
I prepared to shirk the pretense I had
made of being cheerful, humorous, of
feeling I was of interest to other people.
Shortly, I would again be on my own. I
bade the Levitzes good-bye. Waiting in
the small corridor outside their door for
the elevator, I heard a vague thudding. 1
swore out loud when I realized it was the
skylight overhead.

^I'm sorry?" A tall woman with
straight black hair was working the key
into the lock of her apartment across the
hall. I'd noticed her once or twice dur-
ing the evening, especially as she'd de-
parted immediately before me. She
smiled sociably, revealing a front tooth
lapped over its neighbor. She had a long
face and dark eyes, a woman close to my
age who knew she still retained much of
the appeal of youth.

“Is it raining out there?" I asked. It was
fall, late November, and the prediction
had been snow rather than rain. Without
an umbrella, my topcoat would become
sodden and emit a repellent scent that
would taint the close air of my apartment.

“Take a look.” Across the threshold,
she gestured to her living room window.
Staring down, I could make out both
rain and snow, leaving а lethal glister on

the streets. The smarter taxi drivers,
who valued their lives and property,
would already have called it a night.

She introduced herself as Karen Kol-
mar. Her apartment had soft yellow walls
and deep Chinese rugs. A book about
Coco Chanel was open on a cocktail table.
We talked about the poet who'd read.

*His work seemed cold to me," she
said. "But I suppose a lot of it was just
over my head." She shrugged, not much
concerned.

1 would have said the same thing, I
told her, but lacked the strength of char-
acter to admit it.

"I'm at peace as а middlcbrow;" she
answered. 1 liked her. Self-awareness
seemed a particularly appealing trait at
the moment.

She asked whether it was the Levitzes
or poetry that had brought me around,
and in no time I had explained my situa-
tion in life, saying far too much about
Clarissa. Karen Kolmar smiled philo-
sophically. She was not wearing a wed-
ding ring and no doubt had encountered
her share of guys like me.

In fact, 1 soon picked out a photo of a
fellow I figured for her beau, given the
prominence with which the picture was

GREAT

Sonny

CHRISTMAS MOMENTS

Э young Sammy the Bull
ED out Wis cassete,
Gotti

displayed on the closed ebony lid of a
baby grand in the corner. A healthy-
looking older guy, he seemed mildly fa-
miliar, if only for his buoyant smile that
appeared all too obviously manufac-
tured for the sake of the camera. Look-
ing at the photograph, I sized up my
hostess’s situation. A divorce. Some
money. This guy who was at least 10
years too old for her but who probably
paid a lot of attention. That, I was slowly
coming to realize, was one more sadness
in divorce, not merely getting to the
middle of your life and confessing that
the most basic things had not worked
out but finding that you're one of life's
bench players waiting to get on the court
again with the rest of the second string.

“That's my father,” she told me, when
she caught my eye. “I just put up his pic-
ture a couple of days ago. We're having a
rapprochement. My mother died and so
we're being nice to one another. It might
not last. We didn't speak for two years
before this.”

She asked if my parents were Њу
Neither was. Like her, I'd lost my ee
er recently. I wondered all the time if I
would have left Clarissa but for that, if
Га hung on to my marriage for years for

233

PLAYBOY

294

my mother’s sake. I thought I might
have. I told her that—I seemed willing
to say anything, and she to listen to it ap-
preciatively.

“Tm trying to figure out if my father is
why I have trouble with men.”

She didn't seem to me to have much
problem with men. She knew what she
was doing.

“Three-time loser,” she added and
waggled the fourth finger of her left
hand.

“God, three times,” 1 said, before I
could catch myself. “I'd throw myself
under a train.”

That could have gone badly, but her
look was sadly sympathetic.

“It gets easier,” she said. “Unfortu-
nately.” She didn’t have kids, though.
That was different. She asked if I was
thinking of going back. I wasn't, al-
though Clarissa, after weeks in which
she'd been shrill and recklessly accus-
ing—no one person could ever loye me
as much as I wanted to be loved; I was
trying to change her because I could not
change myself—had recently turned

plaintive. After all this time, she asked
me. After all this time? It was the only
thing that ever had any resonance.

When I got ready to leave, Karen
emerged from another room with an
umbrella.

“I won't melt,” I said.

"You can bring it back." She smiled,
enjoying the fact that she was so far ahead.
of me. Walking me to the door, she took
my arm.

1 was quite happy until, halfway down-
stairs in the elevator, it came to me that
she looked a good deal like Clarissa.

I brought the umbrella back, naturally. 1
called ahead, and then it started to rain
as soon as I got there, which led to a pret-
ty good laugh. We just dashed around.
the corner and sat on the stools in a litle
coffee bar, talking about ourselves.

She ran the sales division of a chemical
company her father had founded and
sold several years ago to a big conglom-
erate. I figured she was one of those
sleek women I noticed in airports, al-

"Fred, there's a package for you in a plain brown wrapper."

ways looking resourceful and self-pos-
sessed in their dark tailored suits, able to
climb onto the plane at the last instant
and still somchow get their luggage into
the carry-on.

“You don't really seem like a sales-
man,” I told her. “Too sincere.”

“That's why I'm good. I don't lie,” she
said. “I never lie.” Her dark eyes rose
over her paper cup in a measured warn-
ing. “I didn't believe I could handle
sales. But 1 needed a job after my first di-
yorce. And when I was a kid, I was al-
ways jealous that my brothers went to
the office with my father.” Her father,
pushing 75 now, still ran the company
under the terms of his buyout.

“How'd that work when you weren't
talking to him?"

“E-mail.” She laughed.

I was impressed with her rugged sense
of humor about the way life had turned
out. Her last name, for example, was her
second husband's.

“You really wouldn't really call that a
marriage, He was a country-club buddy
of my father's, older and very polished,
but it just never took. We were together
six weeks, and kind of split up at a party
one night and never were under the
same roof again. I thought, Oh god, I'm
not going to change all my credit cards
again. 1 just did that. They were still
coming in the mail, a different onc cach
day. At some point, you have to start
moving forward."

As we walked back to her place, a huge
clap of thunder rattled the street, and
the rain suddenly fell as if poured from a
bucket. The small umbrella offered little
protection, and | pushed her into a
street-corner bus shelter where I kissed
her. I was afraid it might seem like a mo-
ment from a movie, but I guess every-
body wants some of that in her life.

“That was very stylish,” she said, and
rubbed one finger under her lip to deal
with the lipstick smudge. “You're a styl-
ish guy.”

The next time I saw her, we ended up
walking down to the river. It was driz-
zling again, but there'd been plenty of
winter weather, and the River Kindle was
covered by asolid frozen sheet. Standing
on theice, you could still feel the lurking
movement beneath, the vibration of the
Cory Falls a hundred feet away, the telltale
swirls of the water and its many enigmas.

Rain glossed the surface, refracting the
lights of Center City and making it possi-
ble to skate along. Karen had trained as a
girl and did wonderful, graceful moye-
ments, skidding ahead on a pair of Keds,
encouraging me to follow her. She’s an
adventure, I thought. This woman's an
adventure. My skin went electric, not just.
about her but for myself.

"You're not going to say anything to her.
Tell me you're not.” Elstner and I had
stopped for a beer after the basketball

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PLAYBOY

296

game, mostly so Paul could have a final
Cigar before he got home, where Ann
did not permit them. “Maurie will dis-
solve my bones in a vat of acid.”

Thad figured it outa while ago, prob-
ably by the second time I saw Karen.
The details were a while coming back
to me. But by then, as I told Elstner, 1
volved.
crying out loud,” I said. “I won't
say anything. I thought you'd think it
was funny.”

“Sure. Funny. ГИ laugh as soon as I
change my diaper.” Elstner blustered his
lips. “Have you met Dr. Moleva yet?”

1 had, in fact, only a few days before,
when Га picked Karen up at their Cen-
ter City office. His smile was disturbing.
He had bad teeth, like a farm animal
whose poor bloodlines couldn't be con-
cealed. To his daughter, he was a source
of never-ending vexation. At work he
was imperious, then blamed his subordi-
nates when his orders turned out to be
wrong. As a father, he attacked her often
and made a habit of overlooking what
was important to her. He hadn't been
able to remember my name, although
she gave it to him three times in the few
minutes we were together.

“Kind of your run-of-the-mill jerk,"
I said.

“And murderer,” added Paul.

“She hates him, 1 think. You know.
Underneath.”

Elstner shivered again. “Christ,” he
said. “Why don't you go out with 25-year-
old women like other guys your age?”

“Hey, cut me some slack. It won't
make any difference.”

Elstner groaned. “You think you can
just know something like that about
somebody and it won't matter?”

“Paul”

“Listen. Did 1 ever give you advice
about women?”

In our third year of law school, Elstner
went out with a tall dark girl, an under-
graduate who had the lean elegant moves
ofa whippet. Very moody. Very attractive.
She smiled with notable reluctance. She
seemed exotic because she knew a lot
about motorcycles and introduced us to
mescal—the saltshaker, the lime, the
worm in the bottle. After their third date,
1 told Elstner I didn't think she was really
right for him. To this day he seemed to
agree, but two or three months later, on
a whim, 1 called her myself. That was
Clarissa. Elstner for one reason or anoth-
er never said much, not even the kind of
jokes you might expect, not when I mar-
ried her or lived with her for 22 years, not
even when I told him that our life togeth-
er had become a barren misery and that
Y'dasked for a divorce. Maybe he thought
Td saved him. Or used him. He never
said. I never asked.

"No," I told him, "you never gave me
advice about women."

"Well," he said, "that's the only reason
T'm not gonna start."

When you're having great sex, it scems
to be the center of the world. Every-
thing else—work, the news, people on
the street—has a remote, second-tier
quality, as if none of it vill ever fully
reach you. The rest of life seems a prc-
text, a recovery period before the shud-
dering starts again

Over the holidays, Clarissa and 1 divid-
ed time with the boys. For Christmas she
took them on the annual journey to
Pennsylvania and her parents’ home.
Knowing their absence would be hard on
me, 1 accepted when one of my partners
offered his cabin up in Skageon. Clarissa
hated the cold, and it had been years
since I had passed any part of winter in
the woods. On a chance, I invited Karen

"I see your colleagues have met Margaret's breasts."

and she accepted, eager to avoid the an-
nual holiday collisions with her father.

We left late on the 25th and made an
elaborate Christmas dinner while it
stormed outside. What followed were
three of those crystalline days that occa-
sionally bless the Midwest, when the
snows magnify the available light and
the lack of clouds leaves the air thin and
exciting. We snowshoed for hours, then,
exhausted by our treks, passed the long
dark nights in bed, an intermittent lan-
guor of sleeping and reading, lovemak-
ing and laughter. Driving back to the
Tri- s, to the year-end deadlines of
my law practice and the turmoil of my
broken marriage, 1 felt the exhilaration
of having finally, briefly, lived the life Pd
longed for.

I spent the next couple of nights at
Karen's apartment. I had second
thoughts about the Levitzes, who also
knew Clarissa, but they were away. Even
in her own bed, Karen slept poorly. Ini-
tially I was afraid it was my presence, but
she said she never got more than three
or four hours in a row, which seemed
somehow at odds with her resigned ex-
terior. She would buck awake, thrashing
with the demons of a savage nightmare.

“What was the dream?” I asked the
second night.

She shook her head, unwilling or un-
able to answer. She was naked and had
her arms wrapped about herself: When 1
laid my hand on her narrow back, 1
could feel her heart hammering.

“Go back to sleep," she said. “Г get
up until I calm down."

Т asked what she would do.

“I have my things. I like cognac. I like
Edith Piaf, in some moods. Or big sym-
phonies. It’s a good time to reflect.”

Clarissa also did not sleep well. She
read. In the middle of the night Га find
her propped on her pillow, a minute
lamp clipped onto her book. The only
pleasure I ever took in business travel
was in not having to sleep with a pillow
оуег my head.

Without warning Karen said, “I was
dreaming about a fire.” She was looking
at the ceiling and a plaster rosette sculpt-
ed where a gas lamp had hung decades
before. “I was in a fire with my father. I
was watching the fire come toward him
and there wasn’t anything I could do.”

“Frightening,” I said.

"It's not what I dream that doesn't
make sense to me. It's the way I react. All
Thad to do was shout, ‘Watch out.’ But
the person I was in that dream—she
didn't even know that shouting was pos-
sible. Why do you think you're yourself
in a dream when you don't know the
most basic things?"

Perhaps that was how life really was, I
said, full of blind spots and the inability
to do what seems obvious. She didn't
take much to the suggestion.

“Do you dream about your father
often?” I asked.

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298

She wrinkled her mouth. “Why would
you ask that?”

I didn't have an answer, not one I
could speak. She went for her robe and
told me again to go back to sleep.

“You know, my father likes you,” she
said in the morning, as 1 was driving her
to work. “He says you're soli

1 wasn’t sure what basis Maurie had to
comment, although it was a remark that,
a year before, 1 might have made about
myself.

“He has a lot of good qualities,” she
added. "He's not all one way. Did you
know he was a war hero?"

"Really? What kind of hero?"

"Are there kinds? A hero. He has
medals, From Korea.”

“Did he kill anyone?”

“God,” she said. “What a question.

Like I'm going to say, ‘Daddy, who'd you
shoot?” It was a war. He saved some peo-
ple. He killed some people. Why else do
they give you medals?” She kissed me
before leaving the car, but bent to eye me
from the curb, “What's your thing with
my father?" she asked.

Karen and I spent New Year's Eve with
the Elstners, enjoying dinner at their
home, then, as midnight approached, a
few minutes of revelry in the local
hangout where Paul made an appear-
ance most nights to smoke a cigar. I
thought it had gone well—Elstner and
I had engaged in our usual good-spirit-
ed mocking of one another, amusing
the women—and when Paul and I went
to a game later that week, he made ita

"Oh, those have been in my family for years. Grandmama had
them made especially for her bordello."

point to say how much Ann and he had
liked Karen.

“The only thing is," Elstner said, as he
drove to the Univer jeld House after
dinner, "I nearly soaked my socks every
time she mentioned her father. She al-
ways talk about him that much?”

"She works with him, Paul. He's
her boss."

He gave an equivocal nod, clearly not
inclined to question my hasty defense.

“Truth is," I added, "I always wonder
how she'd be about her father if that sto-
ry you told me had the right ending—
you know, if Maurie got nabbed for off-
ing his relative, and Karen knew it.
Probably make a big difference, don't
you think?”

"How's that?”

"She has no perspective on him. 1
mean, he's her dad. So whenever he clob-
bers her, she's inclined to think maybe it's
her fault, that he's really a good guy un-
derneath. But if she knew what a cruel
character he is, an actual killer, that
would have an impact." 1 was moving full
throttle with the idea that had propelled
me for months now, the belief that new
perspectives and new information could
make life a happier enterprise.

“Well, that didn't happen," he said.
"Maurie's roaming free. And nobody's
going to be diming him out now. Right?"

"Right," I said. "But it’s strange
knowing."

Paul had been keeping a close eye on
the traffic. We were caught in the pre-
game rush, staggering a few feet and
then stopping again as the cars fun-
neled into the lot, but Elstner turned to
me fully now. He might as well have
said 1 told you so.

“Maybe strange is what you want,
champ," he said.

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning you could have walked
away as soon as you figured out who
she was.”

I like this woman. More than

Paul had worked his mouth into a fun-
ny shape as he reflected. “Here,” said
Elstner, “mind if 1 tell you a weird story?”

"Another one?"

He paused to give me a sick smile,
then asked, "Remember Rhonda
Carling?"

“Rhonda Carling? The woman you
went out with before Ann?"

“Her. Did I ever tell you about our
sex life?"

"Christ, I don't think so."

“This was the bad old days, right?
Virginity mattered.” He grimaced. "Lis-
ten to me. “Вай old days.’ A man with
two daughters.”

“Don't act like a Cro-Magnon. Rhonda
Carling and her virtue. 1 have the
context.”

“Well,” he said, “she liked to play
halvsies."

“Halvsies?”

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“You know. To go just partway. So she
remained, you know, intact.”

“No,” Isaid.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “Now, I really dug
Rhonda. And this halfway stuff, it had its
moments. Kind of like surgery, very ex-
act, and very exciting, with all the fuss
and bother and holding back. And all
the danger. I mean, I'm alvays trying to
figure out what happens if we go one
angstrom too far. Am I engaged or dead
on the side of the road?"

Only Elstner, I thought to myself.

"But it was also pretty frigging
strange. The whole thing really bugged
me. What was wrong with her? Or me?
It was bizarre, but it went on the whole
time I was secing her. Finally, I met Ann
at her brother's at Thanksgiving, which
is just about when Rhonda got interested
in a guy she was working with, and we
sort of faded away.

“One night, say six months later, I
bumped into Rhondaat the A&P and we
went out for coffee, just to sort of official-
ly throw the dirt on the grave, and she
tells me this other fellow has popped the
question and something else. ‘Are you
hurt?” she says. ‘My pride,’ I say. She
smiles, nicely, we liked each other, she
says, ‘Halfway’s all you wanted, Paul.”
And soon as she said it, 1 knew she had
that just right.”

Paul lowered the window to pay the
parking attendant, then surged forward
into the lot. As ever with Elstner, 1 was

having a hard time following his logic.

“Meaning what? I should think about
marrying Karen?” Even saying it seemed
preposterous. I was still at the stage
where I couldn't imagine being married
to anyone but Clarissa.

Safely in a space, Paul threw the car
into park and studied me.

“Forget it," he said finally. "It's just
a story.”

My law firm followed the quaint custom
of holding a formal dinner at the condu-
sion of the firm's fiscal year in January. It
was intended to celebrate our successes,
but was frequently an occasion for teeth
gritting among those who were upset
about the annual division of spoils. I
looked forward to having Karen with
me, both to buffer me from the simmer-
ing quarrels and to show her off to my
colleagues, before whom I'd suffered the
shame of not holding together my home.
Already in my tux, I swept by her office
to collect her. She walked to the car
mincingly, trying not to dirty her silk
shoes on the icy street. She was in a long
gown, its revealing crepe neckline visible
in the parting of her coat. I whistled. She
smiled as she peeked down through the
car door, but made no move to get in.

“1 can't go,” she said, "There's a pre-
sentation tomorrow. My whole staff is
upstairs. Somehow my father forgot to
mention he had rescheduled with the

"They're showing my film out of competition
this year. That means I have time to drink and ski and
stalk Robert Redford.”

customer, until he saw me dressed. I
must have told him 10 times how excited
I was to be going with you tonight.” She
leaned inside. “Will you kill me?”

“Not you. Better not ask about Mau-
rie. I thought you said he liked me.”

“He does. You're not the issue. Believe
me.” She shook her head in sad wonder.
“Why don't you come back when you're
done?" She gave a salacious little waggle
to her brow. "I'll letcha take me home.”

When I returned near midnight, I
found her unsettled. She'd had words
with her father, the usual stuff about
his indifference to her. I was angry
enough with him to relinquish my cus-
tomary restraint.

“Have you ever kept track of how
much time you spend being upset about
Maurie?” I asked her.

“Who knows? Sometimes it seems as if
I've lost years that way. What's the point?"

“I guess I wonder now and then why
you put yourself in harm's way.”

“You mean cut myself off?”

“Keep a distance. Nobody forces you
to work with the guy.”

“It’s a family business. I'm in the fam-
ily. And I refuse to just hand it all over to
my brothers. You don't like my father, do
you?"

I weighed my options. "I don't like the
way he treats you."

"Neither do I, sometimes. But he's my
father. And my problem." She did not
speak for the rest of the ride.

I suspect we were each ready to call it a
night. But we hadn't had many disagree-
ments, and experience had taught us
both the perils of parting angry. 1 came
up. We had a drink and talked, then got
around to doing what we did best.

As we groped, she slid from my arms,
already naked below, and with a naughty
grin pulled the belt from my trousers. I
thought she was going for my fly, but i
stead she pushed me to a seated position
on the bed, then threw herself across my
lap. She bent onc leg from the knee and
touched her lip impishly. She put the
folded belt in my hand.

*Spank me," she said.

I looked down at her bchind as if it
were a face. This was a new note between
us. All I could think of to say was, "Why?"

“Why not? I feel like it.”

“I don't think I can do that," 1 fi-
nally said.

“ГИ enjoy it. I'm asking you to do it.
This isn’t whips and chains. Use your
hand, if you'd rather. ГІ enjoy it.”

I tried one swat.

“Hard,” she said. “Harder. Keep do-
ing it. I'll say when I want you to stop.
ГІ enjoy it.”

But I didn't.

“No,” I said suddenly, and pushed her
off my lap. I went for my clothing.

“What?”

"I don't want to be this to you," I said.

“Be what? The man who pleases me?”

“Not like that.”

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301

“It's what I want,” she said
“No,” I said again and left.

“I think I have to tell her,” I said to Elst-

ner the next night. “About her father.”
Paul took his time now. I'd been late

and we'd skipped Gil's, settling in-

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two standard d = enough to realize there’s no statute of
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I kept shaking my head. “This is your
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Elstner stalked away to drop his litle
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PLAYBOY

304

days after that encounter in her bed-
room. Four or five nights along, I re-
turned from work to find two items at my
apartment door, a little bud vase with two
sweetheart roses in fresh water, anda nar-
row box. Inside was a pair of suspenders
with a note. “Forget about your belt....
Sorry to mess up.... Call me. Please.”

I met her for lunch the next day.

“I offended you," she said, as soon as
the waiter had left us in peace.

“No.”

"I know I did. I didn't think. We've
been so compatible that way, I just got
caught up in my own stuff. I was stupid."

“It's not that." I felt she was taking me
as puritanical or blinkered. “There are
just some things I have in my head.”

“What things?”

“1 can't explain.”

“Try,” she said. "Please. This doesn't
have to be an impasse."

J avoided several questions and she
grew more imploring.

“What is it?” She leaned across the
table to touch my hands. “What's the

problem? What aren't you saying?" In
her long face, I saw an urgency no dif-
ferent than my own, a will to connect
and to escape the complexities of what
had left us alone, to be a better person
with a better life. In the end, it was ex-
acıly as I had told Elstner. I could not
stop halfway, without taking the chance.

“There's something Гуе been told,” I
answered. 1 was surprised at the smooth-
ness with which the tale emerged. I'd
heard a story. From a reliable source.
Someone I knew. A former prosecutor. I
was so intent on the telling that I did not
at first notice her draw away on the oth-
er side of the table, but when I finished,
she was watching me with a bitter smile.

“That?” she asked. “That ridiculous,
moldy rumor? Do you know how long
people have been saying that? It's absurd."

It was one of those moments. In the
crowded dining room, I thought I could.
somehow hear my watch tick. After a
confused instant, I decided she had sim-
ply not understood. I repeated myself,
more slowly, but her look soon hardened

"There! Now do you feel joyful and triumphant?"

with suspicion. That glass wall I had
smashed against so often with Clarissa
had descended. Karen stared through it
with appalling remoteness.

“And why are you telling me this?” she
asked then. “Is that how you see me? Is
this something genetic?”

"Of course not."

"So what is the point? I'm neurotic?
Because my father is supposedly some
hoodlum?" With vehemence, she shifted
in her chair. “You know, every divorced
man I meet either has had no therapy or
way too much. Go shrink somebody
else's head." I reached for her as she
marched from the table. *No!" she said
and swung her arm away violently. “It's
me anyway. You don't want me. My fa-
ther is just an excuse.”

She disappeared around a pillar. In
her wake, І was miserable, but I knew
two things for certain. It was over. And 1
was never going to tell Paul.

In late March, the Hands ended a dis-
mal season with one more agonizing
loss. They took the game to overtime,
then, while they were trailing by a single
point with only a few seconds left, Pokey
Corr, the Hands’ only star, broke free on
the baseline and ascended toward the
basket. He wound up and slammed his
intended dunk shot against the back
iron of the rim. Along with everyone
else in the stadium, Pokey watched as
the ball floated along an arc that
brought it down almost at center court
as time expired.

Like a losing bettor at the tack, Elst-
ner threw the season's last ticket into the
air. Then we started up toward the exit,
inching ahead as the crowd merged into
the walkways. From one stair above, 1
felt the weight of someone staring. It was
Maurie Moleva.

“Oh, Christ!” he said. “Look at this.
The heartbreaker.” His tone wasn’t com-
pletely malicious. His crooked brown
teeth even appeared briefly as he smiled.

“It was mutual,” 1 said.

“Not how I hear it. How you keeping?”

I said I was okay.

“Gone back to your wife yet?”

1 absorbed Dr. Moleva's estimate of my
situation, which he must have shared
with his daughter long ago. With Maurie,
anything that came at Karen's expense
was never waylaid by circumspection.

“Not so far as I know,” I told him.
Clarissa had lately taken to mentioning
counseling, an option she'd adamantly
refused during the years РА suggested it.
Now I had no idea how to regard her
surrender. I was fairly sure I no longer
had the strength or interest. Oddly,
though, there were moments when I felt
sorry for her, sorry to see that loneliness
had broken her will. Clarissa liked to рог-
tray herself as a person beyond regrets.

Maurie introduced me to his compan-
ion, a woman not quite his age. Reliably

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PLAYBOY

306

himself, Elstner had stood, face averted,
as if studying something on the empty
basketball court behind us.

“Doctor, did you ever meet Paul Elst-
ner?" Elstner went rigid as I placed my
hand on his shoulder, but he turned and
greeted Moleva.

"Not so as I recall,” Moleva answered.
"But I don't remember my own name
these days. Bad eyes, bad back, bad
memory. I'm beginning to think I'm not
getting younger."

We all laughed as if this were original,
then, when the crowd began moving,
parted with a genial wave.

Elstner was still agitated when we
settled in my car. "Thanks," he said.
“Thanks a lot. I really needed to renew
acquaintances.”

“1 didn't have any choice. And be-
sides—he doesn't remember you. 1 really
don't think he does. Not tonight anyway.”

“Probably not most nights,” said Elst-
ner. “That's how he sleeps.

I edged my car out of the lot.

“So you never told her?" Elstner
asked me. “I'd have bet a whole lot you
told her.”

“I told her.”

He swore at me. “I knew you'd tell her.”

“I thought it would make a differ-
ence, Paul.”

"Screw you. You're too old to believe
people change because you want them
to. They change because they get tired of
themselves.”

“She didn't believe it anyway,” I said.
"And 1 knew you'd be fine, because she'd
never tell her old man about it.”

“And how's that?”

“Because she'd never take the chance
on seeing it might be true.”

‘The remark cast him down into silence
as we swept into the lights and rush of
the highway. After a few minutes his in-
dignation rose up again.

“1 can't believe you told her,” he said.
“Jesus Christ. Why do I put up with you?”

“Why do you?" I asked with sudden

earnestness, The question seemed to ех-
asperate him more than anything I'd
said yet.

“Because you're part of my life,” said
Elstner. "How many people do we get in
a lifetime? And I'm loyal. I'm a loyal per-
son, Loyalty is an underyalued virtue
these days. Besides, I have too much re-
spect for myself to think I wasted 25
years on you. Or that I just figured you
out. You've always been trying to find
the Holy Grail with women. You haven't
changed either."

“Well, apparently then, 1 expected
better from her.”

“Don't laugh, pal.” My sarcasm had
provoked Elstner to pointa finger. “The
older I get, the more I'm just watching
the same movie. He's and she's, the at-
traction is that they're different, right?
Everybody's looking for the other piece.
And then nothing makes them crazier.
She's upset because he's not like she is,
or vice versa, and then there are n
rods like you who actually think differ-
ent oughta mean better, all the time
hoping that will make you better, too.
Grow up."

With that blow delivered, he did not.
speak until we reached his house. I was
furious, but also aware that I was due a
lashing of some kind. A client, a trader
from the exchange, had given me a cou-
ple of Cubans. I'd left them on the dash-
board for Paul and remembered them
now, fortuitous timing. Elstner studied
the label with appreciation.

“Smoke one with me,” he said,

Hanging around with Paul, I'd puffed
on a short cigar now and then and saw
the wisdom of a peace pipe. I rolled
down all the windows. It was a fairly
mild night for mid-March, and we lit up.
the Cubans and redined the front seats
and talked in a dreamy reconciled way,
reviewing the season. The Hands, who'd
been a Final Four team within the last
decade, were not even going to the Dig
Dance this season. We tried at great

“I hate it when he has too much eggnog.”

length to discern the ephemeral differ-
ence between winning and losing, how
coaching and spirit contribute to talent.
We talked about great teams we'd seen
and, by contrast, recollected our own
failed careers as high school athletes.

Finally, Elstner decided it was time for
him to get inside. I watched as Paul, with
his sloppy loping stride, made his way to
the house he'd lived in for decades.
From the door, he gave an elaborate
wave, like a campaigning politician. 1
thought he was marking the end of the
season or the peace reestablished be-
tween us, but over time the image of him
there on his stoop, grandly flagging his
hand, has returned to me often, and
with it the suspicion that he meant to ac-
knowledge more. An intuitive creature
like Elstner probably knew before I did
that I was headed back to Clarissa, that
she and I would find a new mercy with
each other and make better of it, and
that, as a result, I would see him less.
Paul never required any explanation, In
fact, I had no doubt that reviving my
marriage was what he would have coun.
seled, if I'd ever allowed him to lift his
embargo on advice.

1 remember all this because we lost
Paul Elstner last week. He developed
cancer of the liver and slipped off in a
matter of months. 1 saw him often during
his illness. One day he cataloged all the
other ways he'd worried he might die—
an extensive list with Maurie Moleva still
on it—but he spoke the name without
rancor. It turns out that there are far too
many ironies as one's life draws to a close
to linger much with a small one like that.

It was Paul's wish, another of his
harmless eccentricities, to be buried in
cigar ash. On a bitterly cold day, with the
graveyard mounded with snow, the cas-
ket was lowered and the entire burial
procession was presented with lighted
Coronas. Paul had many friends. of
course, and we formed a long, moving
circle around the open grave, each per-
son approaching to tamp whatever ash
had developed since the last time she or
he had gone past. The proceedings had
all the comic elements Elstner would
have savored, with designated puffers to
keep the cigars going for the nonsmok-
ers and many mourners making smart
comments about the smell, which they
figured would linger in their clothing
forever, Paul's unwelcome ghost. This
rite continued for more than half an
hour, with the group dwindling in the
cold. I was among the last. The ember by
now was near the fingertips of my
gloves. Before surrendering the last bit
to the earth, I stood above the casket,
desperate to speak, but able to summon.
only a few fragments to mind. All our
longings, I thought. All our futility. The
comfort we can be to each other. Then
Clarissa and I went home.

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307

You id a JN 27
things to do! у

Ziering, four ladies who have, it should be
noted, all shed their uniforms for PLAYBOY

What's (almost) more thrilling than the
Super Bowl? The Lingerie Bowl 2004, a
pay-per-view event in which 22 lingerie-

clad ladies will play full-contact, seven- Ё
on-seven tackle football—while wearing ;
nothing but their skivvies. Fake nails ^|
will be broken! Hair extensions will be
pulled! Lingerie will be sullied! The
best part? The show will run dur
ing the Super Bowl's halftime peri-
od, so you can skip the usual lip-
synched crap and watch some girls score
(and, we hope, catfight). Set to show off. A
their athletic sides are (above, from / |
left) Angie Everhart, red carpet corre-
spondent Kylie Bax, sideline reporter
‘Traci Bingham and Playmate Nikki

(Why didn't we think of this?) Lucky guy
will dispense water and towels on the
sidelines. Says event mastermind Mitch
Mortaza, “If one of the girls loses her
top or her bottom in the heat of the bat-
tle, these guys will be ready to pounce
оп them and cover them up.” Though
the game's coordinators say there
will be no nudity, at least one
Bl player has other plans. “That's
what they say, but I'm going to
be ripping off tops,” says Ever-
- hart, a.k.a. the coolest chick ever.
| Halftime: the perfect opportunity to
_ send your girlfriend out for more beer.

Nikki Ziering: MVP.

Our 35th Anniversary Play-
mate, Fawna MacLaren,
went to Beverly

Hills High; as

most models do,

she says she was
an “ugly” young |
woman. (Sure,
Fawnal) Years
Tater Photo

Editor Marilyn
Grabowski
noticed Fawna

ata party and
said, “Hi,

would you

like to be our
35th Anniver- TOUR
sary Playmate?" | Mecloren.
“Why not?” Fawna said, and
the results are above.

E
LOOSE LIPS

"I've never felt so flat!”
—Paris Hilton on meeting
Pam Anderson

"I've never felt so poor!”
„Pam Anderson's retort

—Conan O'Brien
оп his most distracting talk
show interview ever

Spotted on the red corpet, from left: Angel B

is at the Global Goming League launch; Kalin

Olson at the Smirnoff Ice Triple Black Eco-Chollenge premiere bash; Shauna Sand at a TV Land
convention; Christina Santiago at a party far Tantric Records; Priscilla Taylor at a concert for VH1's

Save the Music; Barbara Moore at the Rose Education Foundotion's second annual gala.

1. She starred in and produced her
latest film, The Road Home, a coming-
of-age baseball movie, which pre-
miered to stand-
ing-room-only
crowds at the
CineVegas In-
ternational Film
Festival.

2. What critics
are saying about
the flick: "It's a
superbly crafted
film...one of this year’s best ro-
mances."—Elle magazine

3. Corinna has had some cool
comedic cameos. She played a cock-
tail waitress in the movie Rat Race
and a blackjack player in Vegas
Vacation.

Corinna Horney.

Q: Is your TV show, Las Vegas, an
accurate portrayal of the city?

A: It has the Vegas vibe, but only
certain scenes are taped in a casino.
The rest is filmed on
a Los Angeles set.

Q: How's working
with James Caan?

A: I've met James,
but I haven't worked
with him yet. Usually
the actors stay in
their trailers, waiting
for their scenes to be
called.

Q: Are you a big
gambler?

А: Absolutely. I'm
from Las Vegas, so it's hard not to
gamble. It’s a surefire bet you will find
me at а blackjack table.

MY FAVORITE PLAYMATE

By Colin Farrell

“I sow Marilyn Monroe
in Same Like It Hot when
I was 10 or 11. | wos
obsessed with her. | wos
in love with her. I'd tolk
to her. I'd leave
Smarties under my pillow
ot night ond o поје soy-
| ing, 1 know you're dead,
but | wan't tell anyone.
These ore nice.
Come have some.’ |
thought she might

wont some Smor-

fies. It mode.
sense to

me.

Since her spirituality book, Goddessy, hit the shelves,

Stephonie Adams hos been a ubiquitous medio

presence. "The gay medio hove dubbed me their It

girl,” soys the lesbian Ploymote. That's Steph on the
à cover of Go NYC magazine, left, ond with friends ot
1 her book-signing porty in New York City,

АИЫ a MA

еур

но

Hey, Kobe, we've found the next

“I'm sorry” gift for your wife: the
$980,000 diamond bikini recent-

ly modeled by Victoria Silv- j

ЕЕ ооо ERU A |
show....Rock muse Bebe i

Buell appears on the cov-

er and in ап eight-page {8
fashion layout for Grace 12
magazine....Pam Anderson —
bonded with singer Mya (below)
when the two presented a Moon-

man at the MTV Video Music
Awards....Carrie Stevens pops
up on posters for Miller Lite
beer.... Ulrika Ericsson can be
seen in ads for Honda and Coors
Light....We're not sure they went
wild, but Teri Harrison, Cara
Wakelin and Stacy Fuson ap-
peared in the pilot for the show
Girls Gone Fishin’....Talk about
having your cake: Maria Checa,
Darlene Bernaola, Lani Todd,

Cheesecake, anyone?

Nichole Van Croft and Anka
Romensky hung with advertis-
ing phenom Alex Bogusky at a
party.... Move over, Frommer's.
Divini Rae has published The
Sexy Sydney Book, about the city's
erotic side. If you don't live
Down Under, you can read an
excerpt at sexysydney.com.au.

Captain Morgan Original Spiced Rum
Everything tastes better with a splash of the unexpected.

IA S

PLAYBOY

312

PLIMPTON (continued from page 258)

I mentioned the twins, that Га hoped to meet them. “Well,
we're four now,” Hef said, and he wasn't boasting.

I had no idea what he was talking
about. Had he mistaken me for someone
else—perfectly understandable, having
been aroused from a deep sleep? Appar-
ently not. Horace Whigham was а char-
acter in his film, a rather obnoxious, oily
magazine editor (could this have been
typecasting?) who tries to seduce Louise
Bryant, who was played by Diane
Keaton. In that split instant—hearing
my voice, opening his eyes to find me
leaning over him—he had made a cast-
ing decision. None of this made any
sense to me at the time (Whigham?).
Later, of course, he explained what he
had in mind, and I eventually ended up
playing that small role in a film that won
three Academy Awards.

Sometimes when one talks with the-
ater and movie people, their “moment of
discovery” (often referred to as “my first
big chance”) becomes the topic, I can
hardly wait to break in.

"Ahem...well, I was staying at Hefner's
once, and I came walking up from the
grotto...”

I haye often wondered how I could re-
pay Hef for his hospitality—for the movie
nights, the tennis games, the swimming
pools, “the moment of discovery,” the
grotto with the votive candles, the раг-
ties and so on. Finally, a few ycars ago, 1
got the chance. For another magazine, 1
had been asked to write about a new
French product unknown in this coun-
try, most likely even to Hef—a testos-

terone gel that, when rubbed onto the
skin like a salve, was supposed to
markedly improve one’s libido. What
was new about the gel was the place of
application. Up until the French salve,
testosterone came in a pouch that was
most effective when attached to the scro-
tum, an uncomfortable and cumber-
some arrangement. The gel had one
alarming side effect, however: If the stuff
got on a girl's body during lovemaking,
her testosterone level would rise. The
chances of masculinization increased—
her body fat could redistribute, her voice
deepen, her facial hair thicken—all of
this quite possible if the lovers were ma-
niacally active. A chemist I talked to gave
me a graphic example: “A hair could
pop out of her forehead.”

To guard against this, the manufactur-
er suggested that users of the gel wear a
"Eshirt to keep it from getting on a part-
ner's body. Somehow the notion of Hef
slipping out of his dressing gown and
getting into a T-shirt did not square with
what Г had imagined of his lovemaking
procedures. Nonetheless, surely he
would like to hear about the gel.

I had the chance when 1 went out to
the Los Angeles book fair a few years
back. Hef invited me over to watch the
championship fight between Michael
Grant and Lennox Lewis and to stay
around for the disco party afterward. He
had separated from his wife Kimberley
and was cohabiting with a pair of 22-
year-old twin sisters. The twins didn't
come down for the fight. Hef sat alone in

“Wow! Gold, frankincense, myrrh—and a six-pack!”

the darkness on the large couch immedi-
ately in front of the large movie screen. I
remember a dwarf, an early guest at the
party, perched on the far end of the
couch. After the fight, which Lewis won
easily, Hef gave me a tour of the disco
area, a tent on the front lawn.

1 mentioned the twins, that I hoped
Га get the chance to meet them.

“Well, we're four now,” he said.

“Four! Four of you up there!”

He nodded. He wasn't boasting, just a
statement of fact.

“They've imposed а limit,” he said.
“The girls have. They say that four is
enough.”

“Hef,” 1 said, "I've been wearing this
French testosterone gel. A new product.
You rub it on your shoulders.”

His eyes widened. To my delight he
said he was wearing the testosterone
patches. Rather suavely (after all, I was
lecturing the man who was the paragon
of sexual prowess), I began to describe
the gel and how it was applied. I warned
him about getting the gel on any of the
four, that it was wise to wear a T-shirt.
This latter news didn't seem to faze him.
His secretary telephoned later in the
week. She said that Hef was eager to try
the gel.

Last spring during the book fair I
dropped in on Hef to pay my respects
and to find out how the gel was working.
It was the weekly movie night, when Hef
puts on old classics for a few of his close
friends. He came downstairs in his pur-
ple dressing gown. He has not changed
over the years—the same wide smile, the
warmth of his greeting. I sat next to him
at dinner. He told me he was showing
The Citadel later that evening, the 1938
film starring Robert Donat.

“Hef,” I said, “do you remember that
French testosterone gel I recommended
that you spread on your shoulders?”

He nodded. “I’ve given it up,” he said.

The appalling thought crossed my
mind that up there in the great circular
bed, two, three, perhaps four of the young
women had developed deep voices.

“It had a bad odor,” Hef said.
back to the patch.”

“Oh.”

I asked if any unfortunate symptoms
had turned up, if any of the girls had
been affected by the gel.

He looked puzzled. He had forgotten
about the gel affecting the female testos-
terone level.

“No excess facial hair?”

"I would have noticed,” he said. “Just
the odor.”

So there it was. Fifty years of associa-
tion, and I had repaid him for all his kind-
ness by stinking up the great circular bed.
But then again, I could comfort myself
with the knowledge that it is not all that
easy to reward a man who has everything.

Have a drink 55 stories above the city at gh

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WHAT'S HAPPENING, WHERE IT'S HAPPENING AND WHO'S MAKING IT HAPPEN

BUBBLING OVER

egend has it that Benedictine monk Dom Pérignon created
everybody’s favorite fizz in 1668, exclaiming to his robed
companions, “I'm drinking stars!” More recently, scientist
Bill Lembeck computed that a bottle of bubbly contains
almost 50 million bubbles (this guy must have had some time on
his hands)—perfect for toasting PLaYBoy's 50th anniversary. So fill
the flutes below with champagne from our star-studded selection,
and toast to longevity —Richard Carleton Hacker

Near right: Drink up,
but you’d better think
twice before hurling
these crystal flutes into
the fireplace. From left:
Austrian crystal Am-
bassador-pattern flute
($90). Collection 3000
flute with a silver-
plated base ($190 a
pair). William Yeoward
flute with a square
base ($105). Vendóme-
pattern Lalique flute
with sculpted leaves on.
the stem and а mouth-
blown bowl (5230). — -
Salviati crystal flute

with five etched bands

($105 a pai

JAMES IMBROGNO

Above: Silver-plated tray with
leather handles and insert ($395)
and a matching bucket ($375). In
the bucket: a bottle of Mumm
de Cramant blanc de blancs non-
vintage champagne ($65). Other
bubbly accessories include a
silver plate-and-rosewood bottle
opener and stopper ($340), a ster-
ling silver swizzle stick ($125) and
bubble saver ($375), a double-
stemmed Rosenthal flute ($25)
and linen napkins ($32 for four).
Champagnes, from far left: 1995
Dom Pérignon ($120), 1995 Veuve
Clicquot La Grande Dame ($150),
1989 Роттегу Louise ($120),
1993 Pol Roger Cuvée Sir Win-
ston Churchill ($163), 1996
Bollinger Grande Année ($90) and
1997 Perrier Jouét Fleur de Cham-
pagne Rosé ($150).

Motpourri

IF THE SHOE FITS...

Nike's Air Primo (top left, $100) and Reebok's
Supercourt Camo (bottom right, $80) sport
camouflage for men on the hunt (though for
what, we're not quite sure). Both are great for
kicking around, though the latter is more of
an athletic shoe. Puma’s limited-edition Beast
(top right, $160) is a basketball shoe made
with fake leopard fur. Mini, the British car com-
pany, offers а driving shoe called the ^

Motion (bottom left, $150), with a removable
inner bootie. All shoes are sold in select stores

GET THE PICTURE

Is there another contemporary artist who has
captured high life, low life, celebs, statesmen,
sports heroes and men with gravity-defying facial
hair as evocatively as LeRoy Neiman? For the
first time, the whole panoply of his work is cap-
tured in one book, LeRoy Neiman: Five Decades
($75, Abrams). The tome has more than 300 col-
or plates, from а sketch of Lenny Bruce in the
1960s to a recent rendering of Fidel Castro to a
cover of the artist himself (below), cigar and all.

SQUEEZE PLAY

Sheer Delight, an erotic jewelry company, makes sexy adornments
that stimulate the breasts. The little doodads use 24-gauge wire
that’s adjustable, so she'll feel the elegant pinch without feeling as
if she's suckling a schnauzer. “You control the tension,” notes а
company rep. They come in lots of styles (arrows, swirls, daisi
and a bunch of colors. Pictured: the Tri Lacy Nipple Huggers
($17). To see the whole collection, go to nipple-huggers.com

BUSH ADMINISTRATION

For your next vacation you could sit on a beach and guzzle
foofy fruit cocktails until you hallucinate. Or you could do
something a little more exhilarating, like, oh, trek into the wilds
of Africa, drive a Land Rover through a rock-quarry obstacle
course, camp in a dry creek bed and shoot a .575 magnum in
simulated encounters with charging wildebeests. Conservation
Corporation Africa has initiated a Bush Skills Academy at
Phinda Private Game Reserve in eastern South Africa, For
$1,650 (double occupancy) you'll walk away with a lifetime's
worth of wilderness survival skills, a diploma and some serious
bragging rights. For more information check out ccafrica.com

GAME OF THE YEAR
A BARREL OF LAUGHS Name the 1990s movie with the

The Zero Blaster (below, $20) is literally following exchange: “How the
asmoking gun. How un-PC can you get? hell did you get the beans above
The thing shoots two- to six-inch smoke the frank?" “1 don't know. It
rings (the manufacturer calls them fog wasn't like it was a well-thought-
rings) that sail up to 14 feet away. The out plan.” If you answered Ther
secret is the fluid, used in special-effects Something About Mary, congratula-
fog machines. To play Die Hard, tions. You should quit your d
head over to zerotoys.com. job and start a career playing the
90's Game ($33) competitively.
It's a board game—remember
them? Trivia questions test your
knowledge in five categories:
events, sports, music, movies and
TV. Answer a question correctly
and move your piece around the
board toward the winner's circle.
Get some beers, get naked, and
make a night of it. Order from
the90sgame.com.

WHISKEY A-GO-GO

From left: Pendleton (80 proof, $26), a
blended Canadian whiskey aged 10 years

in oak barrels, is named after the Pendle- GO FIGURE
ton Round Up, one of the oldest rodeos Great driving companions will do one, if not all, of three things:
in the West. Triple-distilled 18-year-old make you laugh, shut up when you want them to and give you a
Jameson Irish (80 proof, $65) is a blend blow job (the women, that is). These three-inch-tall antenna top-
of whiskeys aged 18 to 23 years in sherry pers, which can also sit on your dashboard, can handle the first
Ca and hnished in bourbon barrels two but not the last. What do you expect for $5? You can pick up
Dig scotch? ‘Try the Glenlivet French Oak rare ern ее а ЗА

Finish 1983 single malt (92 proof, $200). the hula dancer at carbuddies.com.

KILLER JEANS

Hi-Fi Wear's 12Gauge Shotgun
Jeans ($92) give a whole new
meaning to the expression “Get
the lead out.” “Our jeans are
hand-screen-printed, then taken
out to a white-trash area in Sili-
con Valley and shot with а 12-
gauge shotgun,” says company
owner Kris Ziakas. “The random
pattern from the shot makes
each pair an original, one-of-a-
Kind garment.” You can also get
‘Tshirts and women's pants and
tops that have been blown to
kingdom come. Surf over to
instituteofhifi.com and stay
tuned for other caliber jeans.

Шс хі 50 Years TORO

MARY KATE AND ASHLEY FINALLY TAKE IT OFF—AT АВ.

THE FIRST FEMALE VP SHOWS OFF HER EXECUTIVE ASSETS COCKTAILS OF MASS DESTRUCTION CATHOLIC CHURCH ELIMINATES SIN

Playboy (ISSN 0032-1478), January 2004, volume 51, number 1. Published monthly by Playboy in national and regional editions, Playboy, 680
North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago, Illinois 60611. Periodicals postage paid at Chicago, Illinoisand at additional mailing offices. Canada Post Cana-
dian Publications Mail Sales Product Agreement No. 40035534. Subscriptions: in the U.S., $29.07 for 12 issues. Postmaster: Send address change to

318 Playboy, PO. Box 2007, Harlan, Iowa 51537-4007. For subscription-related questions, e-mail circ@ny. playboy.

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