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MICHAEL MOORE А == 


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порои. SOMETIMES LESS IS А GOOD THING. 


Sure, size matters. But nowadays a smaller package is where it's at. At least, it is in terms of all those different adapters needed for your 
electronic devices. There's one for your cell phone. Your laptop. And even your PDA. So why not lighten your load with the iGo” Juice Power 
Adapter? It's the all-in-one adapter that can simultaneously power and recharge your mobile devices anywhere by plugging into any 
standard wall, auto or airplane outlet. Plus, at just under a pound, it won't weigh you down. So check out the iGo” Juice Power Adapter for 


yourself. And show the world that guys with less can really do a lot more. Е 
RadioShack 


You've got questions. We've got answers” 


With Fahrenheit 911 hitting theaters this summer, Michael Moore is back—and he's sure to cause more controversy 
than ever with this incendiary film. "I finally ended up meeting him in Michigan, up near Traverse City, where he lives 

iow," reports Contributing Editor David Sheff, who turned the questions on Moore for the Playboy Interview. "Walking 
along the streets with him offered an interesting revelation. This is not New York City or San Francisco; it's a small Mic- 


western town. And every single person we passed— young, old and everything in between 


stopped him, patted him 


on the back and thanked him for what he's doing. He's a hero to Middle America. When Moore professes to be a cham- 
pion of blue-collar folks it's easy not to take him seriously. But | got the sense that those are the people who love him." 


Outrageous shots of celebrities 
are a media staple. But the peo- 
ple who snap the pictures are a 
mysterious gang of jet-setting 
photographic big-game hunt- 
ers. "These guys aren't exactly 
listed in the phone book," says 
David Peisner, who went on a 
Hollywood safari for Paparazzi 
Apprentice. “Anonymity is a big 
part of their profession." Peisner 
tracked down a paparazzo will- 
ing to let him into his world. “I 
flew out to L.A. and shadowed 
one for a week as he went 
about his work. Along the way 
he taught me some tricks of his 
trade. | don't think I’m ready to 
switch places, though.” 


Our 50th anniversary issue featured novelist Jonathan 
Safran Foer's meditation on the collection of paper he has 
amassed from famous writers; he invited readers to send back 
an empty page included with the story. Hundreds did just that, 
as Foer describes in The Naked Page Project. "The responses 
were more heartfelt than | could ever have imagined," he says. 
"And with the exception of the person who sent me toilet 
paper, they were more generous. People's responses to my 
collection ranged from anger to curiosity to inspiration." 


Matt Mahurin created the art- 
work for The Wreck of the La 
Conte, a hair-raising account— 
excerpted from Todd Lewan's 
upcoming book, The Last Run— 
of a helicopter rescue off the 
coast of Alaska. (With the chop- 
per dodging 100-foot rogue 
waves, it was the perfect storm, 
Pacific-style.) Mahurin has 
directed music videos for U2, 
REM, Metallica and David 
Byrne, but he is reluctant to 
analyze his own work. "I don't 
get into talking about the cre- 
ative process," he says. “1 just 
like to do the piece. It's not as if 
I'm secretive about it, but I like 
the work just to be there.” 


“I reread Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," says Thom Jones about 
the inspiration for Powder, this month's fiction, “and found 
it to be amazingly good. Then I read it again and used it as 
a framework for this story. Incidentally | was in Western 
Samoa recently and went to see Robert Louis Stevenson's 
stone cottage in the middle of the island. It sat desolate. As 
night fell | saw a funnel cloud off in the distance. It turned 
out to be a swarm of mosquitoes the size of sparrows. It 
took exactly 11 days for the bites to stop itching.” 


Finally, a beer that understands my fridge. 


If your fridge could choose, it would 
choose a better tasting beer, too. 


The new fridge pack from Miller is designed to dispense cans right into your hand so you can have 
the Genuine Flavor, ColdFiltered Smoothness cf Miller Genuine Draft or Great Tasting, Less Filling 
Miller Lite whenever you want. It is also specially designed to fit in your fridge and still pack 12 cans 
of cold Miller Beer. The new Fridge Pack from Miller. It's the newest way to enjoy a better tasting beer. 


Good call. 


в ©2064 Miler Brewing Co. Milwaukes, WI й 


vol. 51, no. 7—july 2004 


features 

82 THE WRECK OF THE LA CONTE 
On a winter day in 1998 five Alaskan fishermen set sail into one of the worst 
arctic storms on record. When their boat sank, they spent seven hours roped logether 
as 70-foot waves crashed on top of them. The step-by-slep account of one of the 
most daring helicopter rescues ever. BY TODD LEWAN 

88 THE NAKED PAGE PROJECT 
For our 50th anniversary issue an acclaimed novelist wrote about the blank pieces of 
paper he collects from famous writers. He asked readers to mail him the empty page 
included with the story. Inside the hundreds of envelopes he received: rants, pleas, 
secrets, drawings and a paper airplane or two. BY JONATHAN SAFRAN FOER 

92 THE PRESIDENTIAL SEX QUIZ 
Clinton didn’t invent sex in the Oval Office. Test your knowledge of our past presi- 
dents’ sexual antics: Who was the first commander in chief to get caught cheating? 
What was LBJ's pet name for his penis? (Hint: It wasn't Johnson.) 

94 SUPER CARS 
Whether you want to spend $250,000 or more on a neu car is your call, but you 
оше it to yourself to gel to know the best from Lamborghini, Ferrari, Mercedes-Benz 
and Chrysler. After all, sticker shock isn't fatal. BY KEN GROSS 

114 PAPARAZZI APPRENTICE 
Tabloids are offering more money than ever to shutterbugs who stalk the rich and 
famous. We embedded our reporter in L.A.'s most hated army —celebrity photo- 
graphers. Will he survive close encounters with Meg Ryan, Bruce Willis and Sir 
Paul McCartney's security goons? BY DAVID PEISNER 

129 _CENTERFOLDS ON SEX: SERRIA TAWAN 
Serria teaches you how to avoid unforced errors. 

130 20Q CHRISTINA APPLEGATE 
The delectable actress who played Kelly Bundy is back, starring in this summer's big 
comedy, Anchorman. In PLAYBOY she talks about ball-scratching ballplayers, jury 
duty and the joy of cursing in nursery school. BY ROBERT ABELE 
fiction 

84 POWDER 
A small-town virgin moves to Chicago and finds himself humiliated on the job and 
a loser with big-city women. After he visits a strange doctor, his boss promotes him, 
women pay to have sex with him, and he falls in love. But will his luck continue 
even when the magic powder runs out? BY THOM JONES 
interview 

59 MICHAEL MOORE 


Whether you cheer him or jeer him, you can’t ignore this best-selling author and 
Oscar-winning filmmaker. His new documentary accuses President Bush of benefit- 
ting from the war on terror. In a turn-the-tables Playboy Interview, we demand that 
Moore answer our questions on Bush, Bin Laden and his badgering of former NRA 
president and Alzheimer’s victim Charlton Heston. BY DAVID SHEFF 


eaeowsegr Soi 

Before Alias's Jennifer Garner, there was y 
Wilson. The star of TV's La Femme Nikita was 
the first actress to play a government assossin 
with an ass to die for. Pholographer Patrick 
Demarchelier stripped the spy of her guns and 
garments. You won't need truth serum 1o con- 
fess your love for this femme fatale. Our Rabbit 
goes undercover in the darkness of Peto's robe. 


vol. 51, no. 7—july 2004 


PLAYBOY 


| contents continued | continued 


pictorials _ 


74 


132 


SWING TIME 

Sexy swingers untangle themselves 
at the Lifestyles Convention to 
pose—and share orgy stories. 
PLAYMATE: STEPHANIE 
GLASSON 

Miss July aspires to be a real estate 
mogul. She could sell us anything. 


PETA WILSON 
Feel free to spy on the actress who 
played La Femme Nikita 


notes and news 


13 


14 


ITA PR 


J 


51 


165 


PLAYBOY'S SUPER BOWL 
CELEBRATION 

Jenna Bush, Nicole Rickie and 
“Jaime Pressly catch passes at the 
biggest pigskin bash of them all. 


SHAQ’S NBA ALL-STAR 
MANSION PARTY 

A slam-dunk gathering with 
Shaquille O'Neal, Laila Ali and 
Crispin Glover. 

THE PLAYBOY FORUM 
Forcing websites to accommodate 
the blind; why does Wall Street get 
a free pass during scandals? 
PLAYMATE NEWS 

A tale about the Bunny costume 
that almost never was; Rebekka 
Armstrong on living with HIV. 


departments 


PLAYBILL 
DEAR PLAYBOY 
AFTER HOURS 


43 MANTRACK 
47 THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR 
112 PARTY JOKES 
153 WHERE AND HOW TO BUY 
169 ON THE SCENE 
170 GRAPEVINE 
172 POTPOURRI 
fashion E 
120 DOG DAYS OF SUMMER 
Just because it's warm doesn't 
mean you can't set girls’ tails 
wagging. BY JOSEPH DE ACETIS 
126 SKIN DEEP 
The days of soap and water are 
gone. The best new products for 
your fac е. BY JOSEPH DE ACETIS 
33 MOVIES 
Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks 
imagine the worst layover ever; get 
caught in Spider-Man 2's web. 
36 DVDS 
Cold Mountain and Bad Santa on 
our list; dreams about Dreamers. 
37 MUSIC 
Beastie Boys love NYC, Sonic 
Youth returns, and Polyphonic 
Spree triumphs. 
38 GAMES 
MLB SlugFest: Loaded—does 
virtual baseball beat the real thing? 
40 BOOKS 


Lee Child's new military thriller; 
lessons on how to rock 


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Fa E 


AT NEWSSTANDS NOW 


PLAYBOY 


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 


CHRIS NAPOLITANO, STEPHEN RANDALL executive editors 


EDITORIAL, 
FEATURES: 4). ame articles editor FORU! 
editor MODERN LIVING: SCOTT ALEXANDER senior editor; JASON BUHRMESTER associate editor 
STAFE ALISON PRATO senior associate editor; ROBERT B. DESALVO. TIMOTHY МОНА assistant editors; 
HEATHER HAEBE, CAROL KUBALEK, EMILY LITTLE, KENNY LULL editorial assistanls CARTOON: 
MICHELLE URRY edilor; JENNIFER THIELE assistant COPY: WINIFRED ORMOND copy chief; 
STEVE GORDON associate copy chief; CAMILLE CAUTI senior copy edilor; ROBIN AIGNER, ANTOINE DOZOIS, 
JEAN RODIE copy editors RESEARCH: DAVID COHEN research director; BRENDAN BARR senior researcher; 
RON MOTTA, DARON MURPHY, DAVID PFISTER, MATTHEW SHEPATIN researchers; MARK DURAN research 
librarian EDITORIAL PRODUCTION: JENNIFER JARONECZYK HAWTHORNE assistant managing editor; 
BONNIE SHELDEN manager; VALERY SOROKIN associate READER SERVICE: MIKE OSTROWSKI 
correspoudent CONTRIBUTING EDITORS: KEVIN BUCKLEY, JOSEPH DE ACETIS (FASHION), 
GRETCHEN EDGREN. LAWRENCE GROBEL. KEN GROSS, WARREN KALBACKER, ARTHUR KRETCHMER, 
STERN, JAMES R- PETERSEN, DAVID RENSIN, DAVID SHEFF, JOHN D. THOMAS 


PATTY LAMBERTI assisiant 


‘HIP ROWE senior editor; 


JOE MORGI 


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 WELLS art services coordinator; MALINA LEE senior art administrator 


PHOTOGRAPHY 
MARILYN GRABOWSKI west coast editor; JIM LARSON managing editor; PATTY BEAUDET-FRANCES, 
KEVIN KUSTER, STEPHANIE MORRIS senior editors; RENAY LARSON assistant editor; 

ARNY FREYTAG, STEPHEN WAYDA Senior contributing photographers; GEORGE GEORGIOU staff 
pholographer; RICHARD 1201, MIZUNO, BYRON NEWMAN, GEN NISHINO, DAVID RAMS contributing: 
photographers; wus. warte. studio manager—los angeles; BONNIF JEAN KENNY 
manager, photo library; KEVIN CRAIG manager, photo lab; MATT srEIGEIGEL photo 
researcher; PENNY EKKERT, MELISSA ELIAS production coordinators 


DIANE SILBERSTEIN publisher 


ADVER 
JEFF KIMMEL advertising direclor; RON STERN new york manager NEW YORK: HELEN BIANCULLI direct 
response advertising director; tatiana VERENICIN fashion manager; JOHN LUMPKIN southeast manager; 
LARRY MENKES Senior account execulive; TRACY WISE account executive; MARIE EIRNENO advertising 
rations director; Kara sarıskv advertising coordinator CHICAGO: jor horrer midwest sales manager; 
WADE BANTER senior account execulive LOS ANGELES: DENISE SCHIPPER west coast manager; 


NG 


COREY SPIEGEL senior account executive SAN FRANCISCO: JENNIFER SAND account executive 


MARKETING 
LISA NATALE associate publisher/marketing; SUE ICE event marketing director; JULIA LIGHT marketing 
services director; DONNA TAVOSO creative services director 


PRODUCTION 
MARIA MANDIS director; JOY JURGETO production manager; CINDY PONTARELLI, DEBBIE TILLOU 
associate managers; JOE САМЕ, CHAR KROWCZYK assistant managers; 

BILL BENWAY, SIMMIE WILLIAMS prepress. 


CIRCULATION 
LARRY A. DJERF newsstand sales director; PHYLLIS ROTUNNO subscription circulation director 


ADMINISTRATIV! 
MARCIA TERRONES rights & permissions director 


PLAYBOY ENTERPRISES INTERNATIONAL, INC. 
CHRISTIE HEFNER chairman, chief executive officer 
JAMES» RADTKE senior vice president and general manager 


I. has been decades sinée Major League 
Baseball’ has seen the likes of a Tris 
Speaker or a Connie Mack. Men blessed 
with the smarts and raw talent to fill 
the role of player/manager. But with the 
advent of Franchise Mode in MLB 2005, 
the lost art is back with a twist: Players 
can be managers, owners, or all three, 
in the ultimate test of baseball know-how, 
as fans control every detail – from player 
deals to the price of pretzels. 


LIVE IN YOUR WXRLD, 
PLAY IN DURS 


PLAYBOY’S 
SUPER Вони 


CELEBRATION 


Why have one Super Bowl bash when you can 
have two? In Houston we hosted a Heaven & 
Hell Playboy party, and at the Mansion Hef 
helmed an L.A.-style football fete. In other 
words, everyone scored. (1) PLAYBOY Editorial 
Director James Kaminsky and Senior VP of 
Marketing Lisa Natale with first daughter Jenna 
Bush and her friend Mia. (2) Bridget and Holly 
in L.A. helping Hef get his rah-rahs out. (3) 
Joel Berliner and Bill Maher. (4) Hef with long- 
time friend Fred “Hunter” Dryer and Fred's 
daughter Caitlin. (5) The Simple Life's Nicole 
Richie. (6) February cover girl Jaime Pressly. 
(7) Lance Bass, Joey Fatone and pals. (8) 
N.E.R.D.'s Pharrell Williams entertaining the 
ladies. (9) Sports legends Cal Ripken Jr. and 
Barry Sanders. (10) Hip-hop star Da Brat. (11) 
Duran Duran, (12) Hoppin’ Bunnies. (13) Tara 
Reid and PMOY 2002 
Dalene Kurtis. (14) Victo- 
ria Silvstedt. (15) Jer- 
maine Dupri and friends. 
(16) Jimmy Fallon. (17) 
Nicky and Paris Hilton 
with Pauly Shore. 


SHAG'S 
NBA 


MANSIONfPART y] 


When major players Hef and Shaquille O'Neal 
teamed up to host Shaq's NBA All-Star party 
at the Mansion, everyone from athletcs to 
Centerfolds to movie stars was game. (1) 
Playmates Audra Lynn and Ava Fabian with 
Crispin Glover. (2) Hef with Shaq and his wife, 
Shaunie. (3) Knockout pro boxer—and 
Muhammad Ali's daughter—Laila Ali. (4) San 
Antonio Spur Tim Duncan and his wife, Amy. 
(5) Los Angeles Lakers stars Kareem Rush and 
Luke Walton with Christa Adams. (6) Bling- 
bling king Jacob "the Jeweler" Arabo with 
Playmate Bunnies and enough ice to freeze the 
Grotto. (7) Hefand gal pal Brande Roderick. (8) 
Rick Fox of the Lakers. (9) Tennesse: 

Eddie George with Playmate Pennelope 
Jimenez. (10) Playmate of the Year 2004 
Carmella DeCesare and Seth Green 

(11) Hefand Holly with members of the 
hip-hop group B2K. (12) Kenny Lofton 

of the New York Yankees, (13) Hef and 

his platinum party posse digging the 

scene. (14) Former world heavyweight 
champion Lennox Lewis with another 

heavy hitter, Mr. Playboy 


GRO 


ALL-NEW LIMITED SERIES 


JULY 


Broadcasting Bye, In, A Time Warner Company Аз RightsReserved. 


WE KNOW DRAMA" 


іліу 
TEC 2004 Taner 


In 1960 Hef opened the first Playboy 
Club, which revolutionized nightlife and 
provided a sexy, sophisticated playground 
for patrons. Back in the day, you may have 
been Bunny-dipped by everyone from 
Debbie Harry to Gloria Steinem. In honor 
of our 50th anniversary, we re-created the 
Playboy Clubs for 50 unforgettable parties 
in 50 cities. (1) A bevy of Bunnies in front. 
of the tour bus. (2) Julie McCullough, Mark 
Wills, Lauren Michelle Hill and Nicole Wood. 
(3) Vanessa Gleason, Phil Vassar and Julie. 
(4) Stephanie Heinrich and country star Joe 
Nichols. (5) Shawn Marion and Neferteri 
Shepherd. (6) Doug Davis, Julie and Ben Ford. 
(7) DeJuan Groce, Kevin Garrett and pals. 
(8) James Bond novelist Raymond Benson and 
his wife. (9) Roberto Alomar and friends. 
(10) Cleveland Brown Melvin Fowler and Play- 
mate gal pals. (11) Dita Von Teese. (12) Jeff 
Garcia with Miriam Gonzalez and Colleen 
Marie. (13) Colleen, Stromile Swift and Ava 
Fabian. (14) Mike Logan and the lovely ladies. 
(15) Simeon Rice in a Playmate squeeze. 


N 


хозлута 


18 


EU e o r 


P | a 


FEAR FOR THE FUTURE 
E.L. Doctorow proves once again 
that he is a sage (Fear, April). His 
thoughts are realistic yet optimistic. 
His essay represents everything I've 
always loved about PLAYBOY. 
Fricdrich Reip 
Berlin, Germany 


Your magazine wouldn't be around 
without capitalism. Please stifle the 
expression of your socialist agenda. 

Michael O'Connell 
Binghamton, New York 


"Thanks for allowing space for the 
minority viewpoint. Seeing that others 
have their eyes open during these 
treacherous times gives me hope. 
Kevin Connell 
Riverside, California 


I can't believe you compare Joseph 
McCarthy and John Ashcroft to the 
likes of Stalin, Khomeini, Bin Laden 
and Hussein. Whatever their faults, 
McCarthy and Ashcroft did not mur- 
der their opponents. 

Pete Ballard 
Fort Worth, Texas 


RACHEL RULES 

In 1979 I found my older brother's 
copy of pLavuov with Raquel Welch on 
the cover. She taught me what makes a 
woman beautiful—mystery in her 


Supersexy Rachel Hunter. 


eyes, a gorgeous face and curvaceous 
hips. I'm sure Rachel Hunter (Rachel 
Rocks, April) is now teaching a lot of 
younger men the same thing. 
James Brattoli 
Henderson, Nevada 


Your April cover may be one of the 
sexiest ever—and the magazine only 
gets better on the inside. Thank you 
for bringing Rachel to us. 

Лот Veneklase 

Grand Rapids, Michigan 


You're doing a great job getting 
celebrities to pose. Rachel is hot! Two 
suggestions: Paige Davis of Trading 
Spaces and Alyssa Milano. 
Edward Robbins 
Pueblo, Colorado 


CHASING THE EAGLE 

As a former defense attorney for Jay 
Parrino, the dealer mentioned in Curse 
of the Double Fagle (April) as an inter- 
mediary in the double eagle purchase, 
Id like to point out that it is uncertain 
whether all the 1933 $20 coins in circu- 
lation were stolen from the Mint. Some 
could have been mistakenly issued in. 
small quantities, sold over the counter 
or recovered after being stuck in 
counting machines, as has happened 
with other coins. Because coins do not 
have serial numbers, they are impossi- 
ble to track. According to our research, 
the arrest of my client and Stephen 
Fenton was the first time in U.S. his- 
tory that anyone, except for larcenous 
Mint employees, had been taken into 
custody for possession of a coin that 
had been questionably released. Bryan 
Christy is charitable in characterizing 
the applicable laws as a patchwork. 
‘They are more like a vacuum. It re- 
mains unclear whether certain coins 


can be legally owned, and collectors 
have по way, other than costly litigation, 
to find out. The government needs to 
spell out exactly which coins may and 
may not be owned by U.S. citizens. 
David Krassner 
New Haven, Connecticut 


I enjoyed Bryan Christy's piece on 
my pursuit of the double eagle. I'm 
being nitpicky, but a few notes: Christy 
writes that I retired from the Secret 
Service “with an acknowledgment” for 
my role in bringing in the double 
eagle. | think he meant to say “with- 
out.” Also, Christy lists other coins that 
were never issued by the Mint but that 
are available on the black market, such 
as the 1913 Liberty head nickel. I sug- 
gested that we seize them as well, but 
nobody bought into my plan. 

Dave Freriks 

Lubbock, Texas 


TWO CENTS ON 50 
It's clear that 50 Cent is more 
thoughtful than the average thug 


V е OC y 


(Playboy Interview, April). However, it's 
unfortunate that your readers don't 
get a chance to see more than one side 
of him. Rob Tannenbaum asks ques- 
tions only about the violence that has 
surrounded the rapper. 'This presents 
a disturbing image that's all too promi- 
nent in this country—that of the 
young black man as a violent criminal. 

Matt Irvin 

Los Angeles, California 


Readers question 50 Cent's value. 


If I read another interview about 50 
Cent getting shot nine times, I'm 
going to shoot myself nine times. 

Zac Busby 
Los Angeles, California 


50 Cent says he doesn't like “faggots,” 
I would think that, as a black man, he 
would be more sensitive to bigotry. 
Scott Liapis 
Brooklyn, New York 


Many people write about 50 Cent, 
but few have let him speak for himself. 
‘Thanks for letting me see what's going 
on underneath that do-rag. 

Dan Swan 

New York, New York 


THAT TIME OF YEAR 
When Taxes Attack! (April) is enter- 
taining, but I know someone who tells 
me he hasn't paid income tax in 10 
years. He says he earns more than 
$100,000 annually but that the IRS 
has never bothered him. How about 
doing some research on whether there 
isa legal way to avoid paying taxes? 
Rex Rumley 
Columbus, Ohio 
We did our research, and we pay our taxes. 
If your friend doesn’t want to contribute to 


19 


Oy о 
E 


Cowes 
a hew pr^ 
or a wild 

cigar. 


Finally, The 
endary galih 
of gene 
Convectiovt Shade 
wrapper in a 
wildly priced Cigar. 


алое in орана 


2003 US. Cigar Sales, Inc. 
1-888-6-CIGAR-1 
Outside U.S., call 800-533-0373 


Ihe kitty that provides a stable economy, 
stable markets, military protection and other 
benefits so he can earn $100K a year, he 
should relocate. Maybe Haiti? 


I've been a tax consultant for 26 
years, and I also publish The Anti-IRS 
News. I've spent hundreds of hours 
assisting attorneys in tax trials. One 
common IRS tactic is to enter a defen- 
dant's returns into evidence. The de- 
fense argues that because a person is 
compelled to file a return, using it 
against him is a violation of the Fifth 
Amendment, which protects us all from 
being forced to incriminate ourselves. 
The government counters that a return 
is "voluntary." The IRS can't have it 
both ways. I filed a lawsuit trying to. 
force the government to acknowledge 
this discrepancy and was fined $6,000 
for my "frivolous argument." 

Bill Conklin 


Denver, Colorado 


STRIKEOUT? 

Your baseball preview is just as "fear- 
less" as you claim (Open Season, April) 
but only in the sense that you aren't 
afraid to be wrong. You somehow 
missed the fact that Alex Rodriguez has 
been traded to the Yankees. But e: 
Rodriguez had stayed with the Rangers, 
it’s ridiculous to think that they could 
have finished second in the AL West. 

Danny Horne 
Fort Worth, Texas 

The Rodriguez trade went down soon 
after we had gone to press. Despite the many 
late deals, we'll stick with our picks. 


Allen St. John is too harsh in predict- 
ing how the Indians will play this year. I 
guarantee they'll be the most exciting 
team in the American League. 

Chad Scianna 
Denver, Pennsylvania 


OPEN ENDING 
Maybe I lack imagination or the 
ability to read between the lines, but 
did the wife of the main character in 
Scott Smith's short story Yellow (April) 
really have an affair? 
Bob Martino 
Tucson, Arizona 
We asked Smith, and he said yes. A day 
later he said no. Then he said to tell you yes 
but that he'd have to think about il. 


EYE-OPENING KRISTA 
Krista Kelly (April) is another excel- 
lent example of Canada's most impor- 
tant export—Playmates. 
Robert Condor 
Gloucester, Ontario 


Pam Anderson, Anna Nicole Smith 
and Jenny McCarthy have graced your. 
pages as Playmates, but none of them 


holds a candle to Krista Kelly. My 
birthday is coming up. Can you send 
me some unpublished photos? 
Jim Trewhella 
Billings, Montana 
Flattery will get you nowhere, unless you 
have connections—specifically an Internet 
connection. We post unpublished Playmate 
photos each month at cyberplayboy.com. 


SOUR NOTES 
In your re-creation of the Ramones 

album (Classic Rock, Classic Style, April) 
you identify the figure second from the 
left as Marky Ramone. Every Ramones 
fan knows that Tommy Erdelyi played 
drums on the debut. Marky replaced 
him on Road to Ruin 

Jim Briggs 

West New York, New Jersey 


Although I won't dismiss Fatherfucker 
as electronic album of the year (fear in 
Music 2004, April), you overlook key 


PLAYBOY picks the best musical acts. 


players such as Audio Bullys, Kid 

Koala, Fluke, Plump DJs and Unkle. 
Kyle Tamminen 
Thunder Bay, Ontario 


In “Name Over,” the list of “moronic 
band monikers” that appears with your 
April music reviews, the writer says of 
Pretty Girls Make Graves, “Note to 
aspiring musicians: A nonsensical name 
doesn't make you artsy and deep.” A 
real music writer would know that the 
band's name is an homage to the 
Smiths song. Note to aspiring music 
writers: Not knowing what you're talk- 
ing about makes you look stupid 

Jim Van Blaricum 
Los Angeles, California 

Final note: “Pretty Girls Make Graves” 

is a dumb name for a song. 


Email: DEARPBGPLAYBOY.COM Or write: 730 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10019 


р 

MÉ a ®- 
Е 
Pe - 


REPORT TO: 
OBJECTIVE: 


RRSENRL: 


MISSION OIRECTIVES: 


PRIORITY: 


(for PlayStation Ziand 


Ф. 


LIVE IN YOUR WXRLD. 
PLAY IN DURS: 


registered tedemerks of Sony Computer 
Internet connaction and Network Adaptor. 


One hundred years ago, Mr. Jack Daniel won a gold medal. It was not for pole vaulting. 
[Best Whiskey, 1904 World’s Fair, St. Louis.] 


Am A f —\ | N 


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[Defore becoming host of the Travel Channel's hit show 
D World Poker Tour, Shana Hiatt didn't have much expertise 
up her sleeve. “I told the producers | didn't know anything 
about poker," she explains. "They said they just wanted some- 
one who could ask questions the audience would want to ask, 
and | did. But now | eat, breathe and sleep poker.” After two 
seasons of watching sharks and celebrities alike cash in their 
chips from Reno to Aruba, the 29-year-old beauty is often rec- 
ognized by fans in public as "the poker girl.” "I've been dubbed 
the Queen of Hearts, so guys always want me to sign that card 


"You can never bluff a girl. Women know 


Read 'em and weep with World Poker Tour's hottest hand 


for them," she says. Shana has also hosted the E channel's 
Wild On in South Africa. "I traveled to a shantytown and met. 
a witch doctor who was healing all these people. It was pretty 
trippy—more like a documentary instead of me partying all 
the time.” Shana sees herself hosting her own entertainment 
news show in the not so distant future. Meanwhile she has a 
helpful tip for you on-the-prowl gamblers. “Guys, you can 
never bluff a girl," Shana cautions. "Women always know 
when men are lying. I can read guys like a book." In that case 
we won't tell a fib—our favorite high-stakes game is strip poker. 


when men are lying.” 


PHOT 


PHY BY ODETTE SUGERNAN 


23 


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NA AMEN e 


afterhours ] 


„you can't escape the sticky web of Spider mania. 
The first film, in 2002, set the opening weekend 
box office record with $115 million; expect the 
Spider-Man 2 cash cow to be milked by relent- 
less hype and merchandising. Somewhere Mr. 
Insect and Bug Boy are drowning their sorrows. 


... you're watching the Democratic National 
Convention, and the suspense is killing you. 
It's not about nominees but theatrics: Will the 
Dems shun Slick Willie? Will Howard Dean 
deliver a motivational shriek? And how will the 
Kerrys top that Al and Tipper tongue bath? 


...you need a new pair of shades, but the 
beady-eyed-snowboarder look is so Y2K. Reac- 
quaint yourself with a classic: Ray-Ban Avia- 
tors. They go swell with your Munsingwear polo 
and Rod Lavers—James Spader rides again. 


„уои don't have to surf to love the U.S. Open 
of Surfing, starting July 24 in Huntington 
Beach. California girls in bikinis prowl the 
beach, cute spokesmodels hawk sunblock and 
Red Bull, and the female pros are right out of 
Blue Crush. Men surf too, or so we're told. 


...you're feeling Heming- 
way-esque on the 50th 
anniversary of Papa's 
Nobel Prize win. What'll 
it be, the look-alike con- 
test in Key West (July 22 
to 24) or the bull run in 
Pamplona (July 6 to 14)? 
Don't be so frivol 
if the man were 
today he'd be dri 
ambulance in Iraq. 


VEGAS SCHOOL 
TEACHES DIRTY 
DANCERS TO 

CLEAN YOU OUT 


One course is no- 
üceably absent from 
the curriculum at 
Naked Assets, a 
school for strippers 
in Las Vegas: Danc- 
ing 101. “Being a 
good dancer may 
net you $20 more 
a night," says co- 
owner Adam Stern- 
berg. “It’s the single 
least important part 
of this business.” 
Color us shocked. 
rather than b 
ä i performance art, 
o stripping is the art 
PR of parting willing 
= fools from their 
money. A Wharton for the G-string set, Naked Assets turns its stu- 
dents into nude, shrewd selling machines. Instructor Amber Smith 
(a former $1,000-a-night dancer) dispenses firsthand advice: Wear 
more clothes and less makeup to pique patrons’ curiosity and convey 
honesty. “If you're married, leave your ring on,” she adds. “Guys 
respect that you're not covering it up.” For his part, Sternberg 
emphasizes the ABC of salesmanship: Always be closing. The girls 
learn to massage lonely clients’ egos with ice-breaking gimmicks— 
a card trick or cocktail napkin origami—and feign interest in the 
week’s conventions. Finally, the girls are trained to turn patrons into 
yes men: Positivity is habit-forming, so asking simple “yes” questions 
(“Isn't the weather nice?”) primes the customer for acquiescing to a 
lap dance (or eight) in the VIP room—where the big bucks are 
made. After all, emptying a man's wallet requires privacy. 


POM NIGHT 


NEW COCKTAIL TAKES 
YOU FOR 'GRANATE 


Drinkwise, 2004 is the year of the pome- 
granate. The berry's seeds are rich in antiox- 
idants, which makes it a natural for mixing 
with hooch. The pomegranate cocktail at 
New York's Salt Bar goes like this: three 
parts Ketel One, one part lychee juice, one 
part pomegranate juice and a squeeze of 
lime. Drop in a few pomegranate seeds, and 
stick a lychee on the rim. They call it the ting 
ting teeny, so tell everyone it's for your girl. 


26 


[ afterhours 


SAD REALITY 


COULD REALITY TV BE ANY WORSE? ACTUALLY, YES 
Some unscripted TV programming ideas are so ludicrous that not even the producers of The Littlest Groom would put them on 
the air. If you're moaning about prime-time karaoke, just be glad these half-baked—but real—pitches never got the green light. 


УЕ СОТ A PIMP HOUSE CONVICT 
MONKEY ON Six pimps live ISLAND A rag- 
MY BACK In under the same ged band of ex- 


cons tries to 
outlast fellow 
felons; anyone 
who can't pull 
his weight in 
the tunneling 
and matchstick- 
sculpting con- 
tests is voted 


GASTAS 01. Cheating is 


roof. Their lives 
are much like 
ours, except 
they're pimps. 
One minute 
they're micro- 
waving some 
mac daddy and 
cheese, the 
next they're on 


a new frantic 
cross-country 
relay race, the 
contestants are 
not carrying 
@ metaphoric 
monkey or two 
on their back. 
Nope, a real 
live banana- 


munching, fe- 
ces-flinging simian plays the role of a 
baton that must be moved from one 
coast to the other. Guaranteed to be at 
least as entertaining as a Tony Danza 
movie. Rejected by: Fox. “That was the 
worst pitch I'd ever heard,” says an exec. 


THE VIRGIN A young man who's been 
saving himself for the right girl has his 
pick of a group of buxom virgins. Several 
elimination rounds later Prince Cherry 
chooses and a very happy ending seems 
destined. Thatis, until he discovers Snow 
White's little secret: She's a porn star! Can 
the reality-TV love they share overcome 
her moral turpitude? Rejected by: Fox. 


threatening to bitch-slap a lazy ho. Some- 
times they have to take it outside to settle 
turf disputes. Did we mention they're 
pimps? There's a good chance they'll wear 
outrageous hats and jewelry. Okay, we'd 
totally watch this. Rejected by: NBC. 


IRON LUNG Several smokers under one 
roof try to kick the habit cold turkey. 
Withdrawal and paranoia set in, and the 
place gets as bitchy as the Tri Delt house 
during group menses. That open carton 
of cigarettes lying on the dining room 
table doesn't help. One puff and you're 
out. The winning quitter gets a lung 
transplant. Rejected by: Fox. 


the cell phone г 


= discouraged 
but not necessarily grounds for ejection— 
after all, these guys have been thinking 
outside the box for years. The last felon 
standing wins prize money—for the vic- 
tims (or the families thereof) he wronged 
all those years ago. Rejected by: NBC. 


WHO WANTS TO BE A SPERM DONOR? 
Men compete to determine whose seed 
will fertilize the lucky mom-to-be's egg. 
The handsome investment banker 
appears to be the front-runner—until a 
DNA scan turns up a recessive gene for 
Von Hippel-Lindau disease. The in vitro 
conception isn't televised, but the birth 
is—live. Rejected by: CBS. 


REV AND RELAXATION 


A SOUPED-UP SPA FOR SPEEDSTERS OF MEANS 


Chateau Élan Winery & Resort knows there's nothing wrong 
with a little man-car love. The Georgia spa has come up with. 
a weekend of personal and automotive indulgence to ensure 
that your relationship with a new hand-built roadster gets off 
to a roaring start. The car is the Panoz Esperante, a two-seater 
with a 4.6-liter, 320-horsepower Ford Cobra engine. A base- 
model Esperante runs in the high five figures—but really, 
why be timid? For $123,000 the Chateau and the Panoz 
factory (both ovned by the Panoz family) will give you and 
your intended—the car—the royal treatment. First you get to 
design her: At the factory you'll choose colors, interior wood. 
finish and leather seats. You'll stay in the presidential suite 
(personal chef and bottle of Dom at the ready) and sate your 
need for speed on a 12-turn, 2.5-mile course. Once your sex 
machine is complete, all thar's left is the christening. "I named 
mine Tallulah,” says actor Patrick Dempsey. “They even put a 
plaque on the engine." Be advised: The package is dubbed 
Romantic Pleasures and Dream Chariots. A name like that 
could make your other woman want to come along for the ride. 


28 


[ afterhours 


life 


NO FLIRTING ALOUD 
QUIET PARTIES FOR SINGLES ARE WRITTEN AFFAIRS 


The worst thing about using a pickup line ata typical club? Having 
to yell it—five times—because she can't hear you over the DJ's roof- 
rattling idea of mood music. Which is why some partyers on the 
make are going for the silent treatment. Quiet Party is an emerging 
alt-dating scene that has already touched down in Washington, D.C., 
New York City, Berlin and London. At a Quiet Party, singles pass 
scribbled, often risqué notes to one another in an odd mix of cheap 
thrills and postcollegiate smarting off. The more Shakespearean 
double entendres, the better. “Quiet Partyers tend to be adventur- 
ous and literate,” says co-founder Paul Rebhan, who estimates that 
3,000 people attended the functions in 2003. “Women say they can 
tell more about a man's character at a Quiet Party than they can 
elsewhere.” It may sound like a night at the library, but when their 
pens run dry, quiet types are as likely to pair off as barflies. After all, 
the prohibition on oral expression ends at the door. 


A LITTLE MAIL 
FROM HIS FRIENDS 
RINGO’S POSTCARD 
PORTRAIT OF THE BEATLES 
Now we know of two things Ringo 
Starr collected after the Beatles broke 
up—massive royalty checks and tid- 
ings sent by his former bandmates. 
Postcards From the Boys (Genesis), a 
jumbo, limited-edition book pack- 
aged in its own tin mailbox, repro- 
duces 53 such missives, ranging 
from the silly to the illuminating. In 
a 1971 note, John Lennon asks, 
“Who'd have thought it would come 


Yeu ane Tug" 


And George Harrison jokes euer 

і that his feet “are getting Me wein 
biggcr every day." For the Beatles 
fan who must truly have everything. rear 


E 


ESCROW А-60-60 


WHEN MANDY SHENKO HOLDS YOUR 
TITLE, YOU DON'T WANT HER TO LET GO 


PLAYBOY: What's your 
job? 

MANDY: I'm an escrow 
assistant for a title com- 
pany in Las Vegas. We're 
a third party between 
buyers and sellers of real 
estate. It's an all-female 
office. | face the lobby; if 
a hot guy walks in, I'm on 
the phone telling every- 
body to check him out. 
PLAYBOY: Ever gotten a 
date that way? 

MANDY: | get shy around good-looking men. But I'm 
a bit of a control freak, so | usually end up kissing a 
guy before he tries to kiss me. 

PLAYBOY: Are Vegas locals as crazy as the tourists? 
MANDY: Sure. One night my girlfriend and | decided 
it would be fun to do a little streaking around the 
neighborhood. Now every time we're out walking we 
pull our shirts up and run around for a bit. 
PLAYBOY: Ever been a third party outside work? 


MANDY: Yes, but not all the way—just kissing. Well, 
there was that time years ago...or was that a dream? 


Employee of the Month candidates: Send pictures to Pano Photography Depart- 
ment, Attr: Employee ol the Month, 680 North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago, Што 
60611. Must be at least 18 years old. Must send photocopies of a driver's license 
and another valid ID (по a credit card), one of wich must include a current photo, 


MANO N ZERO 


& CLLELL LJ 


BUY IT NOW! 


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“ara the propery ol their respective onera. "Estad on Gamespy com saver sata on 5722/02. 


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Killing 


I: 1% 
Time talking on 
How American men the phone 
ages 18 to 34 


spend their leisure 
time (or so says a 
Jupiter Research 
survey commis- 
sioned by 
Nintendo): 


11% 
playing 
golf 


15% eating 


listening 
to music 


AEREA 

ETE | y 

ро шш, ; Mai 

ГЕ jy Major 

ad = Lag 

ak SPAN I At 18.5 hours, Singapore Air- 

TN | lines’ new L.A.-Singapore run is 

— q ¡AU | 1 the longest nonstop commercial 

: flight in air travel history. 

- Price Che 


ЕФ, 
Temptation Island 


Some 17.5% of tourists ages 16 to 34 who travel to 
the island of Ibiza say a major reason for their visit 
is to get laid. More than 25% of the men and 14% 
of the women have sex with more than one partner 
during their stay, and 11% of the men and 3% of 
the women hook up with six or more partners. 


И 


That's Heavy 


In 2000, for the first time ever, the 
number of overweight and obese 
people in the world matched the 
number of underweight and starving: 


"1.2 billion 
Rise of the Machines 


Percentage of households with major 
technologies after their first six years on 


the market: DVD 
players " 
TES Suite! 
s players А 

Strength in Numbers The most expensive hotel room 

s Color in New York City is the Mandarin 
The Department of Homeland Security Tys VERS | Oriental's Presidential Suite, at 
employs 1 of every 12 civilians who work 6% 1% | $12,595 a night. We hope it at 
for the federal government. A ссн. 


| least has HBO. 


= == 3 SS = 
essful Movies Starring Tom Hanks 
With an average adjusted take of $176 million a film (including a high mark of 


$461.4 million for Forrest Gump), Hanks is the top-drawing movie star. But a film 
career is often like a box of chocolates. Here's the bad candy*: 


25. Volunteers (1985) 32.8 million zu 
26. Punchline (1988) ДВ ШШ You're Perfect, 
« | 21.The Bonfire of the Vanities (1990) 1.7 million 
] 28. The Man With Опе Red Shoe (1985) — $14.2 million Now C hange = UR 
Є 29. Every Time We Say Goodbye (1986) $04 million | Oe omar man shouid get a 
"Numbers adjusted or inflation. Source: banofficereport.com complete makeover. 


31 


A LITTLE BIT OLDER 
A WHOLE LOT BOLDER 
100% AGAVE TEQUILA 


LJ 
WHEN YOU'RE READY 
FOR A SMOOTH TEQUILA. 


ETW: 5 


; movie of the nth 
[ THE TERMINAL ] 


Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks want you to 
enjoy a very extended layover 


A Spielberg movie about a cuddly alien marooned on a far- 
away world? Seems familiar, but don't expect any flying 
bicycles this time around. The Terminal is strictly terres- 
trial, with Hanks playing a European immigrant stranded for 
months in a U.S. airport after war erases his homeland— 
and leaves him without a valid passport. What’s a nonper- 
son to do but immerse himself in the lives of airport regulars 
(such as stewardess Catherine Zeta-Jones) and screw up the 
courage to battle the bureaucracy? Enter Stanley Tucci as 
the immigration honcho who constantly thwarts Hanks. “This 
movie hits you emotionally,” says Tucci, “but it is also a 
Sartre-esque tale because 
Tom's situation becomes sur- 
real—in a very real way. It's a 
nightmare to get stripped of 
your rights in a nebulous purga- 
tory." Though it sounds pretty 
existential for summer fare, 
said purgatory is Spielbergian: a 
22,000-foot set built from scratch in the California desert, 
tricked out with brandname retail outlets and fastfood 
stands. Says Tucci, “If you looked around that stunning set, 
it would hit you—Oh yeah, this is a Spielberg movie.’ What 
an amazing backdrop for a story about the loss of freedom, 
which, except for death, is the thing we all fear most." Well, 
that and losing our luggage. (June 18) —Stephen Rebello 


"Tom's situation 
becomes 
surreal—in a 
very real way." 


's a bet: I can watch the 


now showing 
Spider-Man 2 


BUZZ 


Our call: Jazzier web-slinging 


(Tobey Maguire, Kirsten Dunst, Alfred Molina) Okay, this is the 
real movie of the month, and of the summer, but we made that 
clear last issue. In this sequel Spidey battles multi-armed Doctor 
Octopus and loses Mary Jane to an astronaut. And you thought 
superpowers were all about kissing girls upside down in the rain. 


effects and a wicked new villain 
(don't let the door hit you in the 
ass, Green Goblin) should send 
this one soaring over the super- 
hero sophomore slump. 


Around the World in 80 Days 

(Steve Coogan, Jackie Chan, Jim Broadbent) In this latest spin on 
Jules Verne's classic comic adventure, acrobatic Victorian-era thief 
Chan hooks up with eccentric inventor Coogan to do what's 
promised in the title—by train, boat, camel and balloon. Exotic 
dangers menace our globe-trotters, notably a relentless sleuth. 


Our call: The 1956 movie ver- 
sion won five Oscars, but this 
one is aimed strictly at the kid- 
dies—most of whom could go 
online and book an around-the- 
world tour in eight minutes. 


King Arthur 

(Clive Owen, Keira Knightley) This umpteenth take on the Dark 
Ages ruler (Owen) and his knights of the Round Table seeks to 
demystify 16 centuries’ worth of legend: Bone-mangling turf 
battles trump the Lady of the Lake, and even cuckolding Guine- 
vere (Knightley) becomes an arrow-shooting warrior princess. 


Our call: It's good to be the 
king—unless we ticket-buying 
serfs grow weary of blood- 
soaked battle epics based on 
historical tall tales. As goes 
Troy, so goes this. 


White Chicks 

(Marlon Wayans, Shawn Wayans) To protect a couple of 
spoiled hotel heiresses (the Wilton sisters—get it?) from a kid- 
napping plot, two disgraced black FBI agents must blend into 
the Waspy Hamptons disguised as...as...white chicks! Did we 
mention that it's a wacky comedy? 


Our call: This calling-all-Wayans 
project (Keenen directs) won't 
win any awards from the Acade- 
my. Or commendations from the 
Council on Racial Harmony. Or 
laughs from the nonstoned. 


33 


34 


reviews [ movies 


Ben Stiller and Vince Vaughn as seri- 
ously committed dodgeball players: 
This month's comedy Dodgeball has 
"hit" written all over it. If it scores, 
could ironic flicks about the cutthroat 
world of phys ed sports soon be all 
the rage? A few concepts fresh from 
the Hollywood rumor глі... 


Red Rover: The Motion Picture 
Starring: The Rock, Steve Buscemi 
Story: Gulf war vets Stoney and Sal 
are buddies who play a brutal version 
of the summer-camp classic in the 
semipro East Detroit Red Rover 
League. Buff Stoney is always picked 
first and skinny Sal last (“Red rover, 
red rover, send Limp Wrist on омет"), 
but Sal's suckiness never gets in the 
way of their friendship. After all, it's 
only a game—or is it? When Stoney is 
made captain in the league champi- 
onship, he's torn between picking his 
friend and playing to win. 

Rallying cry: “Hold that line, soldier— 
or | will kick your ass!" 


Marco Polo: The Deep End of the Pool 
Starring: Will Smith, Angelina Jolie, 
Ron Perlman 

Story: Champ Marlin is the star attrac- 
tion of the PMPPA (Professional Marco 
Polo Players Association) Tour—until 
he suffers a vicious injury to his sexual 
organs at the flippers of Otto "Orca" 
Bukorski. Mojo-less, he loses his 
piece-oftail wife and, worse, his un- 
derwear-modeling contract. When a 
terminally ill young fan discovers his 
hero pumping gas in rural Maine, he 
persuades Champ to dive back into 


[ GAMES ON! 


Brace yourself for more schoolyard sports on the silver screen 


] 


the pool and defeat the hated Orca. 
Tagline: "They used to say he was half 
fish. Now he's just half a man." 


Hacky Sack: Lords of the Sack 
Starring: David Spade, Seth Green, 
Jack Black, Jason Schwartzman, 
Ricky Martin, Marc Anthony, Enrique 
Iglesias, Don Cheadle 


Story: Scooter, Cheese, Zero and 
Shmoo are shaggy slackers freshly 
flunked out of the University of Cregon. 
Having nothing better to do, they enter 
the World Hacky Sack Championship in. 
Jakarta. Heart, grit and primo Indone- 
sian weed get them to the finals, where 
they face the feared Brazilians: Don: 
aldo, Donaldinho, Txaütxo and Speedo. 
Gratuitous cameo: Our heroes re: 
ceive a blessing from a monkish man 
in robes—none other than Phil Lesh. 


Coffee and Cigarettes 
The title of indie icon Jim 
Jarmusch's latest says it 
all: These black-and-white 
vignettes feature eclectic 
celebrity combinations 
(Tom Waits and Iggy Pop, 
Bill Murray with the Wu- 
Tang Clan's GZA and RZA) 
shooting the breeze while 
drinking java and smok- 
ing butts. Though much 
of Coffee is a lark, astute 
observations about the 
hierarchy of fame lend it 
unexpected depth. 


S C 


BEFORE SUNSET Ethan Hawke and Julie 
Delpy meet up again, nine years after their 
fling in Before Sunrise. They walk through 
Paris and talk about life, love and missed 
chances. Richard Linklater's film tops the 
original; after all, his characters are now 
more mature and interesting. VIVE 


TV producer Michael Pressman directs 
wife Lisa Chess in a stage production and 
winds up having to save his marriage 
and the play. A funny film based on the 
couple's real-life experiences. yyy 


CLOSE YOUR EYES Goran Visnjic (ER) 
and glorious British actress Shirley Hender- 
son (Intermission) star in this genuinely 
creepy thriller about a trained hypnotist 
drawn into a case involving a young girl and 
a serial killer who's involved with the 
occult. Strikingly original and scary. УМУ 


Joan Allen and Sam Elliott 
live so far off the beaten path in the New 
Mexico desert that it takes an IRS agent 
days to find them. Instead of collecting 
back taxes, he falls under their spell. 
Directed by Campbell Scott. БЕ] 


THE PUNISHER Thomas Jane plays the 
title role in this Marvel Comics adaptation 
about a man driven to avenge the slaughter 
of his family. Too bad the audience gets tor- 
tured worse than the poor goons on-screen. 


John Travolta co-stars in this monstrosity. Y 


IE UNITED STAT D 3 Kevin 
Spacey produced and co-stars in this 
thought-provoking drama about a young. 
man (Ryan Gosling) who commits an 
unthinkable murder and then refuses to 
explain himself. I 


WILBUR WANTS TO KILL HIMSELF 
What begins as a black comedy about a 
man determined to commit suicide evolves 
into asweet comedy-drama about lost souls 
who find salvation in each other. Set in 
Scotland, this one's a sleeper. ЖУУ 


IG AD) Ewan McGregor's willie 
and some rather brutal sex scenes earn this 
import an NC-17 rating. But the titillation 
factor is small and the dreariness is 
oppressive in this story of a shady drifter 
Who comes between a man and his wife. 9% 


Don't miss 
Good show 


Worth a look 
Forget it 


36 


dvds 


reviews 


You can't really blame Jude Law for not wanting to fight Yankees when Nicole Kidman 
is keeping a featherbed warm for him back home. Charles Frazier mined Homer's 
Odyssey for his Civil War novel about a wounded soldier's homeward journey, and 
director Anthony Minghella's adaptation incorporates more contemporary influences: 
The trench warfare scenes grab your gut like Saving Private Ryan; Kidman and Law's 


romance, developed in flash- 
backs and letters, echoes Ken 
Burns's PBS series The Civil 
War; and Renée Zellweger 
makes the part of a resource- 
ful tomboy all her own. In the 
end Minghella's sweeping film, 
graced with cameos by Philip 
Seymour Hoffman, Natalie 
Portman and others, may be 
better than the book—how 
often do you get to say that? 
Extras: commentary by stars 
and the director, plus docu- 
mentaries and a staged per- 
formance of the film's words 
and music, featuring Kidman, 
Law, Jack White and Alison 
Krauss. У —Gregory Fagan 


[ COLD MOUNTAIN | 


Why watch this Civil War drama? Because it's there—and good 


50 FIRST DATES (2004) Adam Sandler 
and Drew Barrymore experiment with their 
Wedding Singer chemistry in this Ground- 
hog Day-meets-Memento mash-up that 
aims low and connects often. Sandler is a 
Hawaii veterinarian who dates tourists 
until Barrymore wins his heart. Too bad 
brain damage has rendered her incapable 
of remembering him from one day to the 
next. Wnat's more, as he tries each day 
to woo her anew, she becomes resistant 
to his previous come-ons. From a nau- 


seous walrus to Rob Schneider in drag, 
there's plenty here for the maligned San- 
dler fan. Fat, fart and schlong jokes aside, 
its a sweet comedy with just enough pay- 
off. Extras: Barry- 
more joins direc- 
tor Peter Segal 
on the commen- 
tary. And there's 
no blooper like a 
Sandler Boone. 
y 


She strapped them down for 
Bend lt Like Beckham. She 
corseted them up for Pirates of 
the Caribbean: The Curse of the 
Black Pearl. But before Keira 
Knightley became the latest 
bona fide It girl, the lovely British 
actress aired out her assets in 
the little-seen 2001 thriller The 
Hole. While thankful, we're not 
sure that performing a sly strip- 
tease for the benefit of male 
schoolmates while trapped in 
the titular underground bunker 
is the wisest idea; the result- 
ing flurry of heavy breathing 
could deplete the oxygen sup- 
ply in seconds flat. 


BAD SANTA (2003) “More booze, more 
bullshit, more butt fucking." Words to live 
by—and when theyre uttered by a larce- 
nous midget to a sodden Billy Bob Thorn- 
ton dressed in a Santa suit, they're damn 
funny, too. This pitch-black comedy was 
mistaken for a holiday movie—despite the 
Rrating—and raised the hackles of family 
groups, which no doubt had director Terry 
Zwigoff blowing eggnog out of his nose. 
As he did in Ghost World, Zwigoff cre- 
ates his own twisted cosmos, where sur- 
reality is the norm and Christmas is scarier 
than Halloween. Extras: Sante's bag is 
stuffed with com- 
mentaries, a doc- 
umentary, deleted 
scenes and a trib- 
ute to John Ritter, 
appearing in his 
last movie. ¥¥¥ 

—Buzz McClain 


THE DREAMERS (2003) Director Bernardo 
Bertolucci flashes back to his Last Tango 
in Paris for another explicit paean to the 
transformative power of sexual discovery. 
Matt (Michael Pitt), an American student 
falling in love with films in 1968 Paris, 
meets like-minded siblings Isabelle and 
Theo (Eva Green and Louis Garrel) at a 
protest. Their ensuing ménage à trois, 
complete with sadomasochistic game 
play and mounting emotional stakes, con- 
stitutes the dreamworld, cast in contrast 
to the riots outside. The dream is shat- 
tered—but not before everyone has a 
full-frontal blast. 

Extras: The com- 
mentary is grown- 
ups only, with the 
writer and the 
producer lending 
Bertolucci a hand. 
yyy 


BLAZING SADDLES: 30TH ANNIVER- 
SARY SPECIAL EDITION Though the big 
Bags in Mel Brooks's breakthrough West- 
ern spoof—the campfire-beans scene, Lili 
Von Shtupp's double entendres—stand 
the test of time, it's having the whole sil 
shebang revolve around black sheri 
hero Cleavon Lit- 
tle that remains Ё 
genuinely provoc- B 
ative 30 years | 
later. If you need 
more reasons to в 
jump back in the 
Saddle, special 
features include a 
cast reunion and 
the 1975 film- Ё 
inspired TV pilot 
Black Bart. 


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reviews [ music 


[BEASTIE BOYS- TO THE 5 BOROUGHS | 


The innovators throw an old-school party 


With its Twin Towers cover art, retro- 
simple beats and 1970s trash-culture 
references, this is a love letter to 
New York City at the dawn of the hip- 
hop era. As such, the Beasties’ first 
album in six years is also their first 
backward-looking album. Still, this 
isn't the nostalgic pastiche of three 
old guys running out of ideas. Instead 
the record bursts with genuine affec- 
tion for their home turf—and with the 
world-conquering beats that vaulted 
hip-hop from the boroughs to the 
globe. The block-party sound brings 
levity even to the Boys’ sometimes 
strident politics (what they might call 
multilateralism if it rhymed with any- 
thing). If, as the saying goes, rap is 
something you do and hip-hop is 
something you live, then many would 
say that New York is where you live it. 
And the Beastie Boys won't let us for- 
get that. (Capitol) УУУ —Tim Mohr 


SONIC YOUTH * Sonic Nurse 
Ever since 1988's groundbreaking 
Daydream Nation, these art-punkish 
indie rockers have slid further and further 
into the noisy realm of experimental 
music. Their 19th album marks a return 
to earlier days. Thurston Moore's guitar 
licks complement Kim Gordon's throaty 
voice, and long jam breaks give even the 
ballads, which 
outnumber the 
faster tracks, a 
hard-core feel. 
We'll take anoth- 
er shot, Nurse. 
(Geffen) YY% 
—Patty Lamberti 


SPARTA + Porcelain 

When critical fave At the Driven crashed 
in 2001, two bands rose from the wreck- 
age: the psychedelic Mars Volta and 
Sparta, which stayed true to ATDI's 
angsttinged thunder. Frontman Jim Ward 
sounds like the Cure's Robert Smith 
on steroids as he rips through rock- 
metal joints such as “Death in the Fam- 
ily” and “Break- 
ing the Broken.” 
This is one CD 
that Mom won't 
be borrowing 
any time soon. 
(DreamWorks) 
Y YY —Alison Prato 


THE POLYPHONIC SPREE 

Together We're Heavy 

To the credit of hippie-ish cults every- 
Where, this robed collective has stumbled 
across the path that Brian Wilson lost 
after "Good Vibrations." Like Wilson, the 
Spree harnesses an array of sounds 
toward one goal: transcendent pop. On 
its second album the band hits heights 
that today's other 
masters of gran- 
diosity—Wilco 
and the Flam- 
ing Lips—took a 
decade to reach. 
(Hollywood) 
wur —IM. 


THE ROOTS + The Tipping Point 

The follow-up to the Grammy-nominated 
Phrenology begins with a sample from 
Sly & the Family Stone’s “Everybody Is 
a Star" and ends with a cameo by 
comedian Dave Chappelle. In the mid- 
dle, the Philadelphia hip-hoppers weave 
a near-masterwork of social commen- 
tary backed by big-band horns and 
reggae grooves. 

As they sing 

in the explosive 

“Boom,” “What 

we have here / 

is a brand-new 

sound." (Geffen) 

УУУХ —AR 


musicology 
[ HEAR NO EVIL ] 


Not since Tipper Gore took on Twisted 
Sister has it seemed that so many busy- 
bodies want to stick their noses into 
what we hear and see. But who knew 
that Howard Stern's fellow outlaws 
include Olivia Newton-John and Mr. Ed? 
Taboo Tunes: A History of Banned Bands 
& Censored Songs (Backbeat Books), by 
Peter Blecha, chronicles censorship's 
greatest hits. A sampling: 


Aerobic. j 

Radio stations in Salt Lake City and Pro- 
vo, Utah banned Olivia Newton-John's 
1981 pop smash "Physical," apparently 
convinced that lyrics such as "Let me 
hear your body talk, your body talk" 
were too steamy to be heard outside a 
million suburban aerobics classes. 


Tutti uncommon 
In 1956 the lyrics to Little Richard's 
“Tutti Frutti” (“1 got a girl named Sue / 
She knows just what to do") were used as 
evidence that 
rock and roll 
was corrupting 
America's 
youth. Imagine 
the uproar if. 
Richard had 
recorded his 
original lyric: 
“Tutti Frutti 
good booty... If 
it don't fit, don't 
force it / You 
can grease it, 
make it easy." 


LISTA були 


Lines in the sand 

During the 1991 Gulf conflict the BBC's 
pop radio channel produced a list of 67 
songs it reasoned had the power to 
undermine public support for the war, 
including “Give Peace a Chance," “Fools 
Rush In," "| Just Died in Your Arms 
Tonight" and "Walk Like an Egyptian." 


Hi-yo, Satan! 

In 1986 Ohio preacher Jim Brown 
claimed that when the theme music to 
the 1960s TV sitcom Mr. Ed was played 
backward the lyrics were "Someone 
sang this song for Satan." Apparently. 
this was considered much more per- 
verse than a show about a horse with 
the power of speech. 


Sticker shock 

During the censorship hysteria of the 
late 1980s an "explicit lyrics" warning 
label was slapped on Frank Zappa's Jazz 
From Hell—despite its being an instru- 
mental album without one syllable of 
vocals. It's probably pure coincidence 
that Zappa had spoken before Congress 
to oppose music censorship. 


37 


—John Gaudiosi 
38 |й 


reviews[ games 


sary overhaul, including simpler 
controls, more detailed wrestlers 
and a smorgasbord of bout op- 
tions. The classic-match mode 
revives legendary brawls such as. 
the Hulk Hogan-versus-Andre the 
Giant dustup. Or play an entire 
career as an old-school grappler 
such as the Ultimate Warrior or 
Sting, complete with story lines and 
authentic costumes. Exhaust the 
stable of more than 70 wrestlers 
and you can create your own, right 
down to his spandex. Either way, 
relive a more innocent time, when 
wrestlers dived off cages, splin- 
tered tables and pummeled groins 
without the benefit of tummy tucks 
andfacelifts. УУУ —Alex Porter 


i SHOWDOWN: LEGENDS OF WRESTLING ] 


Forty years of blood, sweat and tights 


While a game that re-creates pro wrestling’s flabby, mullet-crested golden age of the 
1960s through the present sounds great in concept, the last two entries in the Leg- 
ends series, crippled by crummy controls, were about as fun as a sweaty bear hug 
from King Kong Bundy- Showdown (Acclaim, PS2, Xbox) gives the franchise a neces- 


WAY OF THE SAMURAI 2 (Capcom, 
PS2) The problem with being a warrior 
without a master is the lack of direction in 
your life. This game suffers from the 
same problem. The intention was to 
create the feel of an epic samurai film 
through open-ended game play, sword- 
swinging combat moves and encounters 
with dozens of characters—but after a 
few hours of aim- 
less exploration 
you'll discover 
that a bit more 
plot would really 
help show this 
samurai the way. 
Wy —Peter Suciu 


SUDEKI (Microsoft/Climax, Xbox) This 
role-playing game takes the best ele- 
ments of the genre and improves them so 
the experience can be enjoyed by an 
audience beyond the local Dungeons & 
Dragons club. The fast-paced action 
spices up the turnbased combat as you 
control four adventurers on an urgent 
mission to locate the source of a demon- 
spewing portal 
that has mysteri- 
ously appeared 
at the local tem- 
ple. Maybe they 
came for the 
bake sale? yyy% 


MLB SLUGFEST: LOADED (Midway, 
PS2, Xbox) This game's graphics and real- 
ism are strictly minor league, but that's not 
the point. SiugFest is cartoonish baseball 
designed for gamers who think of regular 
baseball as a nine-inning sleeping pill. 
Wacky controls let you bean players with 
balls, throw flaming trick pitches and even 
punch infielders. Practice your sweeper, 
bouncer and other 
trick pitches at 
home, and then 
unleash them on 
your buddy's bat- 
ters in the online- 
play mode. yvy 
—Jonathan Dudlak 


SHADOW OPS: RED MERCURY (Atari, 
Xbox) Nothing says "game over" like an 
A-bomb. Take homeland security into 
your own hands in this first-person shooter 
as a Delta Force operative purging the 
globe of nuke-peddling scum. In war-torn 
Kazakhstan, Bosnia and Chechnya you 
deploy sniper rifles, machine guns and 
rocket launchers. Shadow Ops plays 
respectably, but 
gamers need an- 
other Tom Clancy- 
style potboiler 
like a Baghdad 
barracks needs 
a blow-dryer. 
yy —AR 


[JOYSTICK CHICK ] 
Michelle Rodriguez pushes 
our buttons 


Between her role in the Resident Evil 
movie and appearances in two big video 
games, DRIV3R and True Crime: Streets 
of LA., Rodriguez spends serious couch 
time with her favorite games. She briefly 
put down the controller for a chat. 


PLAYBOY: Are you a gamer? 
RoDRIGUEz: ме been playing video games 
since | was 12 or 13 years old. 


Рілувоу: What games do you like? 
RopRIGUEZ: My all-time favorite was 
Pole Position for Atari 2600 and then 
Space Harrier for Sega Genesis. | was. 
alsoa big fan of Tekken for PlayStation. 
Today I like games like SOCOM // and 
Rainbow Six. 


PLAYSOY: How does working on a video 
game compare with working on a film? 
RODRIGUEZ: Usually 1 get to see a rough 
cut of the game and hear the audio. I 
sit in a recording booth and take it 
from there. For DRIV3R ! play a chick 
who smuggles cars. She's a little rebel. 
For True Crime | play a kick- 
ass cop who falls for a 
rebel cop. 


PLAYBOY: What's next in 
video games? 

Re 2: In DRIV3R you 
get to position virtual 
cameras and film 
little sequences. 
It turns players 
into creators of 
content. The 
vision | have is 
that one day 
you'll control 
a character 
that looks like 
Brad Pitt. 
That's my 
dream.—J.G. 


Apex Digital ApeXtreme ($400) There 
are plenty cf great PC games, but sitting 
at a desk playing one can be a literal pain 
in the ass. The ApeXtreme DVD player 
moves PC games into the living room, 
next to your PS2, by using DISCover, 
а new technology that eliminates boot- 
up time, shutdown time and updates. 
A 1.2-gigahertz processor and a 40- 
gigabyte hard drive power the system. 


WHERE AND HOW TO BUY ON PAGE 153. 


www.ThreeOlives.com 2 
© 2004 White Rock Сабота, Inc, Ов in Englend. knported ond bottled by Wie Rock Обе, Inc, Lawatan, МЕ-42% А ЛЫ. [BO Proof). 


Imported 


lam Engtong 


40 


reviews [ books 


| THE ENEMY * 


LEE CHILD ] 


A dead general and his friends tell no tales 


For his eighth thriller featuring man of 
action Jack Reacher, Child tosses the fran- 
Chise into the way-back machine for a 
prequel that unfolds in 1990. The Cold War 
is ending, and Reacher is a military police- 
man wondering what peace will bring. 
Weirdness, mostly, as he's ordered to 
cover up the death of a general who has 
suffered an apparent heart attack near a 
North Carolina Army base while wearing 
nothing but a condom. He does so but 
Stops listening to the brass when he real- 
izes the general's briefcase is missing. A 
string of murders follows: the general's 
wife, a vacationing colonel and a gay Delta 
Force soldier found smeared with yogurt. 
Reacher travels the world—with a sexy 
lieutenant, natch—tying up loose ends in a 
perfect military knot. Child betrays the vul- 
nerable side of his hero by involving his es- 
tranged brother and dying mother. Unless 
you're a shadowy conspirator type, this 
mystery will keep you guessing until the 
final page. (Delacorte) ¥¥¥—Patty Lamberti 


SO YOU WANNA BE A ROCK & ROLL 
STAR + Jacob Slichter 

As the drummer for Semisonic, Slichter 
racked up only one big song ("Closing 
Time")—and about a million ego bruises 
courtesy of a cutthroat music industry. But 
instead of saving his bile for a future 
episode of Behind the Music, Slichter 
uses one-hitwonder woe as a cautionary 
tale, recalling that behind the rock-star 
facade, he fretted over looking tough in 
band photos, hated bleaching his hair and 


battled nerves before late-night TV gigs. 
His dissection of the biz exposes sleazy 
A&R reps and clueless label executives; 
all the while he keeps 
a mental tally of the 
money the band will owe 
once its run is over. 
Needless to say, the 
lessons imparted here 
are a comparative bar- 
gain. (Broadway) жує! 

—Jason Buhrmester 


GANGSTERS AND GOODFELLAS 

Henry Hill (as told to Gus Russo) 

When he disappeared into the Witness 
Protection Program in the 1980s, Hill wasn't 
content just to rat out his Mafia cronies to 
the feds. He provided intimate details to the 
author of Wiseguy, which was made into 
Martin Scorsese's Goodfellas. Gangsters 
and Goodfellas picks up where that story 
left off. Hill describes his subsequent 
adventures pretending to be Joe Blow in 
Nebraska and Kentucky, testifying in high 
profile trials and lunching with Hollywood 
producers (whom he А 2 
compares to the bosses 
back east). The book 
reads like an oral history, 
as co-writer Russo lets 
Hill's Mob-speak shine. 
Don't fuhgeddabout 
this book. (M. Evans) 
yyy -Jessica Riddle 


D.B. * Elwood Reid 
How times change: Back in 1971, when 
skyjacking had a less cataclysmic conno- 
tation, D.B. Cooper parachuted from a 
plane with $200,000 in ransom and be- 
came something of a folk hero when he 
was never heard from again. Reid uses 
the stil-unsolved case as a jumping-off 
point, spinning a fictional backstory for 
Cooper as a Vietnam vet determined to 
do one great thing in life and putting a 
bored FBI agent on his outlaw tail 13 
years later. As their stories merge, we 
don't get just a mystery 
explained in colorful, 
edgy prose; we get 
some unexpected social 
commentary as the val- 
ues of two decades col- 
lide at top velocity. 
Geronimo! (Doubleday) 
wy —Alison Prato 


SE 


Tini но 


ANDY WARHOL 365 TAKES 

You already know about the crazy-coiffed 
pop-artist godfather who immortalized 
Marilyn Monroe on silk screen and put 
Campbell's soup cans into museums. This 
compact coffee-table book delves deeper, 
showcasing his less famous forays into tele- 
vision and movies (including Blow Job, one 
of his more than 600 films) and offering 
anecdotal insights. For instance, Warhol 
had a thing for both sweets and porn. 
Displaying this 
tome will show 
that, while you 
may concur, 
you also like 
art, (Harry N. 
Abrams) wa; 
—Elaine Szewczyk 


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Time in a Bottle 


The folks ot Jock Daniel's are used to 

occolodes. Frank Sinatro, who drank his J.D. 

right-honded: “Now this is a gentlemon's 

drink." William Foulkner, who dronk his from a 

trough: “You can count on the quality of Jack 

Doniel’s.” Tennessee's finest whiskey first went 
nationol in 1904. Thot year 
the distiller won o prestigious 
tosting competition in St. 
Louis, putting it on the rood to 
the ubiquitous stotus it enjoys 
today. In honor of the 
100th anniversory of its 
gold-medol win, J.D. is 
offering a 1.75-liter 
collector's Gold 
Medol Replico Bottle 

($90), but the whiskey itself is the some 

old sour mash Block Label. Why mess 

with something thot works? Meanwhile, 

ocross the stote line, Mok- 

er's Mork is celebrot- 

ing 50 yeors with o 

golden botile of Ken- 


HOW TO PLANK A SALMON д. J 
ay ` 
TO COOK THIS 
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PLACE FISH ON PLANK, PUT PLANK 
Y ON HOT GRILL AND CLOSE LID. 


MEDIUM HEAT FOR 
ROUGHLY 20 MINUTES. 


EXTINGUISH ANY FIRES 
WITH WATER FROM A 
SPRAY BOTTLE. 


tucky bourbon (obove). 
It's priceless (i.e., not 
for sale). Ifyou see a 


Don't Hate This Machine 


We've always had o soft spot for Bang & Olufsen products 
(and not just because they hove the word bang in their 
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to be ugly. B&O leads the way with the BeoCenter 2 ($4,100, 
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Buttonless iPod-style controls on the surface let you adjust 
volume and other necessities, and it’s wall-mountable to com- 
plement that plosmo (and let you eighty-six your bulky stereo 
cobinet). Trick this baby out with BeoLab 5 speakers ($16,000 
a pair) for the full “jah, І om a Swedish billionaire” effect. 


» The Chess Player 


Å She reoches out, grabs the hard six-inch-long king and 
strokes it for a moment before moving it into position. But 
wait, she’s left her queen open! Did she do it on purpose? 

Your knight nails the queen for all he's worth, ond your hot 
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The Persiono Ottone Solido ($1,000), one of the latest sets 

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in five sizes. The one pictured is 26 by 26 inches ($220). 

) The whole setup is ovailoble at thechessstore.com 

Å Hot femole opponent 

not included 


Clothesline: 
Rob Schneider 


Rob Schneider's movie career 
hos brought him fame ond 
fortune, but it still hosn’t 
whetted his oppetite for 
dressing up. The comic actor, 
who currently appears in the 
ensemble flick Around the 
World in 80 Days, had this to 
soy obout his sartorial choices: 
“After three decades of 
surviving in Hollywood | con 
wear whatever | want. So I'll 
keep dressing down until one 
doy all I’m wearing is torn 
underweor. There was one bad 
experience at the Mogic Castle 
in Los Angeles. They wouldn't 
let me in becouse | wasn't in o suit and fie. 1 was weoring a 
vintage Hawaiian shirt with a Paul Gouguin print—but it was 
worth $1,500! 1 do dress up once in o while. My favorite suit 
is by Costume Nationol. It was like buying o cor, the thing wos | 
so expensive. | love my vintoge leother belts, but my wife has || 
stolen them because they no longer fit; I've become fat from 
the good life. If any designer reading this is looking for a fot, 
short guy with a big ass to represent o clothing line, call me.” 


The Perfect Time... 


* To unload your stocks: Fridays. According to the book 
Stock Market Logic, the market goes up on Friday (with the 
exception of whot we call Black Friday) more than any other 
doy of the week. Generally the best time to sell is at 

the start of trading or in the final half hour. Why Friday? 
Perhaps because managers of mutual funds prefer to be fully 
invested rather than leave money idle over the weekend, 

so they're buying, which pushes prices up. The last trading 
doy before a holiday also tends ta be a gaad day to sell and 
catch a rally. Monday has long been the worst day to cash 
out. € Ta schedule a job interview: In the morning. A survey 
0f 1,400 executives shows that more than two thirds prefer 
to see opplicants between nine and 11 A.M. H's best to meet 
them on their terms, when they want to talk to you and 
when they have the time. Hey, you haven't even gotten the 
job yet and you're already sucking up! Attaboy. 


33% 


WHERE AND HOW TO BUY DN PAGE 153. 


Jealousy rears its ugly head. 


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Ше Playboy Advisor 


Ive learned that my father is cheating 
on my mother with a hooker who meets 
him at his office. This could ruin not only 
y parents’ marriage but my reputation 
There's the guy whose father cheated 
on his wife"). What's the best way to end 
this before my mother finds out?—PR., 
New Orleans, Louisiana 

Could you pay the hooker more than your 
father does? Confront him, but do it to 
release your own anger rather Ihan because 
you expect a particular response. Then mind. 
your own business. (Your concern about your 
reputation is overblaun.) Your father may be 
scared straight, but it’s more likely he'll 
become more discreet, to the point that you'll 
no longer know whether he's cheating, which 
is the way it should be. One of the unfortu- 
nate side effects of adultery is that it draws 
others into the lie. 


My wife and I were invited to a wedding 
that will take place at three м. The invi- 
tation reads “black tie optional.” My wife 
says this means you should wear a tuxedo 
if you own one. I don't think it's right to 
wear a tux in the afternoon unless the 
host insists on it. Who's right?—J.K., 
Owings Mills, Maryland 

We would wear a dark suit, but it depends 
on your personal taste—you won't be over- 
dressed in a tux, and we suspect it may also 
get you laid. For the record, “black tie 
optional” and “black tie invited” are a notch 
below “black tie preferred” and two notches 
below “black tie required.” In the last two 
cases we would wear a tux. With optional or 
invited you risk being the only man in a suit, 
but we've never been to an event al which 
that was the case. “Creative black tie" means 
you can have some fun. 


Í found a collection of porn photos on 
my boyfriend’s computer. I don’t mind 
that he looks at porn, but he put my sis- 
ter's face on the photos! I’m not sure 
what to think, What does the Advisor 
say?—J.C., Portland, Oregon 

Look on the bright side—it could have 
been your mom. Il doesn't surprise us that 
your boyfriend fantasizes about your sister, 
given that he’s attracted to you. But pasting 
her face onto porn is further than most guys 
take it. Unless your sister is Britney Spears, 
you and he need to have a talk. 


| would love to have some sexy recipes 
to impress my girlfriend. Any sugges- 
tions?—L.W., Phoenix, Arizona 

Sure. We recently came across a tantaliz- 
ing work in progress, Simple Recipes That 
Will Help Get You Laid, by a photographer 
who goes by the online nickname Short2000 
(short2000.com/recipes). She uses color, fruit 
and scotch to get the job done. Examples: (1) 
Place fresh pineapple chunks and mara- 
schinos on skewers, then throw them on the 


grill for a few minutes until the pineapples 
are slightly caramelized. For extra impact, 
serve with coconut ice cream. (2) Blend two 
cups of frozen mango chunks, or tuo large, 
soft but not mushy mangoes, with a cup of 
yogurt and a cup of vanilla rice milk until 
thick and smooth. Serve in a frosted wine- 
glass, and top with fruit. (3) Mix salad 
greens, pomegranate seeds and balsamic 
vinaigrette for a “sweel, crunchy, juicy, 
tangy, leafy” salad. (4) Pour single malt 
scotch into a colored glass and call it a but- 
terfly wii The name alone will get you 
some action, and its color will cast spells. 
Just don't use a glass that says ‘SeaWorld’ or 
anything like that.” If any of this gets you 
laid, drop Short2000 a line to thank her. 


You recently helped a reader who had 
trouble with his condoms slipping off. I 
sell adult toys at in-home parties. One of 
my best-sellers and personal favorites is 
a jelly cock ring that can be worn over a 
condom. It stretches to fit any girth. It 
can also be reused (the ring, not the con- 
dom—I have to stress that to some peo- 
ple). You can find jelly rings in adult 
shops or online.—A.M., Chester, Texas 
Thanks for writing. We would advise any 
guy tempted to MacGyver an ill-fitting con- 
dom to exhaust all other possibilities, includ- 
ing the custom-fit condoms we discussed in 
March. A ring should not be worn for more 
than 20 to 30 minutes, and you should lake 
it off immediately if you feel pain or numb- 
ness—or if your wife altaches a leash. 


A man wrote in March because his wife 
had cured her hiccups by deep throat- 
ing him. I've used this technique on my 
husband so many times that he jumps 
even when I cough. (Here's a secret: 


ILLUSTRATION BY ISTVAN ВАНА! 


Sometimes I fake the hiccups.) This 
morning, when I started hiccuping while 
he was at work, I left hima voice mail: “I 
hic, need you, and you're, hic, not 
here!"—S.B., Salem, Indiana 

If he's smart, your husband will hide every 
paper bag in the house. 


In March a reader asked if putting ice 
packs on her boobs would make them 
larger. When I take a hot bath I like to sit 
up and pour ice water over my breasts. 
As my body tightens up and I gasp, my 
man puts his warm mouth over my hard 
nipples and relaxes me again. He has 
used frozen strawberries for the same 
elfect.—A.P, Rocklin, California. 

We're not sure what this has to do with 
making boobs bigger, but we'll go with it. 


To thesmall-breasted woman who wanted 
to look sexier: Show off your nipples. 
Perky nipples inside a tight shirt are just 
as sexy as big breasts trying to bust out 
of one.—M.B., Cincinnati, Ohio 

Thanks. We always enjoy a good tip. 


In March a reader asked how long he 
should wait for his wife to figure ou 
she wants to stay married. You said a 
year. Based on my own two divorces and 
what Гуе heard from professionals, Га 
say three months is about as long as a 
person can tolerate this kind of purgatory. 
If you do separate, don’t make any 
changing commitments for at least 12 
months.—D.S., Mattoon, Illinois 

That's good advice. We're generally too 
optimistic that marriages can be saved. 


My dartboard has been ruined by a 
giant wart. I've noticed similar warts on 
boards at bars. What causes them?—TR., 


"re hair balls. Your 
board is made of compressed bristles. Quer 
time the compression weakens from damage 
caused by pulling out the darts, Check your 
tips regularly for burrs and hooks. On a new 
set, roughen up the points a little so they 
don’t penetrate too deeply. 


Does regular masturbation reduce 
the chance that you'll get prostate 
cancer?—T.S., Harrison, Michigan 
Apparently yes. You'll go blind and grow 
hair on your palms, but you'll live forever. 
Scientists at the National Cancer Institute 
examined, over eight years, the self-reported 
ejaculation frequency of nearly 30,000 men. 
Those who came том often—a lifetime aver- 
age of 21 times a month—were one third less 
likely to develop organ-confined or slow- 
growing prostate cancer than the control 
group of men, who came four to seven times a 
month. The study found a benefit in men who 
had more than [2 orgasms a month. Regular 


47 


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ejaculation may be beneficial because it 
flushes out carcinogens in the gland. Come 
for life. And get an exam annually after you 
hit 50. If you're African American or have a 
family history of prostate cancer, start at 40. 


In February you reprinted a letter from 
1965 in which a young Barry Manilow 
asked the Advisor whether he should 
pursue a career in music. What did you 
tell him?—M.B., Fort Worth, Texas 

We told him to go for it. You're welcome. 


Besides slowing down, what is the best 
way to get a tailgater off your bum- 
per?—M.L., Bicester, U.K. 

Turn on your flashers. Most people tail- 
gate because they're not paying attention 
Your flashers will wake them up and let them 
know they need to back off or pass. 


A reader wrote in March to ask if his 
daily intake of alcohol—about halfa pint 
of 80-proof whiskey or rum—was harm- 
ful to his health. That's the equivalent of 
six shots a day, which easily meets the 
clinical definition of heavy drinking. He 
said he does this to help him sleep, which 
leads me to believe the reader is depen- 
dent on alcohol. Your response quoted 
studies that tout the “health-enhancing” 
effects of alcohol, but they apply only to 
moderate consumption, which for men 
is defined as one or two drinks a day.—Dr. 
M.C., Boston, Massachusetts 

You're right. We should have noted that 
his drinking didn't qualify as moderate. 


М, friends and 1 want to thank the guy 
who wrote with the suggestion to fuck 
microwaved banana skins (February). 
Now we can compare notes, such as ask- 
ing each other, ^Ever tried the Chiquitas 
from ShopRite?" Thanks to the banana 
bangster and to PLAYBOY for making our 
sex lives so much richer.—B.T., Eliza- 
bethtown, New Jersey 
It sure beats a cored apple. 


| enjoy the feel of a walking stick, but I've 

never learned how to carry one properly 

or what to do with it once I get where I'm 

going. How can I use it without looking 

pretentious?—E.S., Indianapolis, Indiana 
Unless you have a limp, you can't. 


Alter two years of torture Lam finally 
divorced and starting to date again. My 
question is: How young can I go? I read 
that the formula is your age divided by 
two, plus three. I'm 46, so that would 
allow me to go out with a 26-year-old 
"There's a 28-year-old who wants to sleep 
with me, but I've been shying away be- 
cause of the age difference. What do you 
think?—J.B., Minneapolis, Minnesota 
Are you kidding? She's been legal for 10 
years. No matter what the age difference, the 
challenge of any relationship that starts like 
this is finding something in common besides 
your mutual interest in fucking. But that 
doesn't sound like a concern for you now. 


In Aprila reader asked ifa man could be 
happy with a woman “who has a pretty 
face but a size-16 body.” You responded, 
“Most men aren't attracted to over- 
weight women, so odds are they'll never 
know if they could be happy with you as 
a size 16.” As a longtime reader I’m sad 
and angry that the writer of that letter 
could believe what some faceless, unim- 
portant guy from PLAYBOY thinks and 
would give up on the idea that someone 
could love her for who sheis. She may so 
fully accept what you told her that when 
a man smiles at her she'll turn away, not 
believing he could find her attractive. 
What was she thinking when she wrote 
to a magazine that turns women into 
plastic fuck dolls? You had a chance to 
do some good, and you blew it—R.A., 
Madison, Alabama 

We heard from many readers who had. 
comments about our reply. Read on for more. 


Your response was ridiculous. Almost 
every man is attracted to a woman who 
is confident in how she looks. That's 
also the case with confident men who 
have potbellies.—S.K., Ashland, Ohio 


While it is true that our initial attraction 
or lust may be for slim people, this can 
fade after a short conversation. I have 
quickly lost interest in some very hand- 
some men after finding that they are 
arrogant, conceited or stupid —C.S., 
Stillman Valley, Illinois 


Im a big girl. I know the score. But life 
and attraction aren't that simple. The 
Advisor of all people should have recog- 
nized the importance of that letter. 
Instead you were cold and dismissive. IF 
you can devote eight sentences to ver- 
mouth, you can at least give a few more 
to a reader asking a sensitive ques- 
tion.—V.C., Chicago, Illinois 


Im sure you've heard from a ton of 
angry women. As a guy, I feel for you. I 
just underwent gastric bypass surgery. 
My post-op support groups are full of 
ex-fat chicks who are still psycho and 
bitter. With my weight back to normal, 
women react differently to me. No one 
sets out to be fat, just as no one sets out 
to have a career in waste management, 
It sucks, and it's not healthy. Even 
though our society is composed mostly 
of fat people, we despise them unless 
they are jovial—W.P, Toledo, Ohio 


Most men don't know what they're 
missing. I enjoy the company of women 
who have curves rather than edges. In 
my experience larger women are more 
passionate.—D.C., Merrill, Wisconsin 


Dia a seventh-grader break into your 
offices and answer that question? I am 
a size 16 and have never lacked for 
companionship. I would have told her 
to stop giving off the "I am not worth 


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dating because I am fat” vibe. What hap- 
pened to the days when curves were 
sexy?—].S., Dundas, Illinois 


The reader admitted she is bitter. That's 
a turnoff no matter what your size. She 
should get a hobby. 1 suggest something 
aerobic, like belly dancing. She'll learn 
that even plus-sizers like us can make 
men cry —S.]., Salt Lake City, Utah 


In my book Guy Logic, single guys bluntly 
fess up about what they want. No one 
wants to be cruel, but people don't suc- 
ceed until they stop living fairy tales about. 
whom they can get. The odds are slim that. 
a Roseanne Barr will get a Brad Pitt, so 
some women (and men) need to cut the 
crap.—Guy Sparks, New York, New York 


Biack and Latino women have fewer 
issues with their bodies and are gener- 
ally larger, but since you don't feature 
them in your magazine, you wouldn't 
know that. You didn't need to insult that. 
size-16 reade: ЇЇ her to find a size-16 
man.—D.B., Chicago, Illinois 


Voluptuous women have been the sub- 
ject of lust for centuries; thin has been in 
only since the 1920s, Even if “most” men 
don't prefer overweight women, millions 
of guys do—G.B., Dallas, Texas 


There is a fine line between being honest 
and being brutal. You crossed it —K.T., 
Charlotte, North Carolina 


The answer you should have given is 
this: As long as you find yourself unat- 
tractive, other people will as well—M.D., 
Victorville, California 


ИЕ sexual attraction were based solely on 
size, not many people would be getting 
laid —D.M., Darlington, Wisconsin 


Your reply was asinine. When all men 
develop perfect bodies, maybe all women 
will too.—M.F, Arlington, Virginia 
Thank you to all the readers who set us 
straight, Our response should have been more 
expansive. More important, we didn't answer 
the reader's question. So, belatedly: Yes, a man 
can be happy with a larger woman—as many 
have told us they are. But confident or not, a 
woman will attract the attention of far fewer 
men (and vice versa) if overweight. That isn’t 
fais; but it's the honesty the reader asked for. 


All reasonable questions—from fashion, food 
and drink, stereo and sports cars to dating 
dilemmas, taste and etiquette—will be per- 
sonally answered if the writer includes a 
self-addressed, stamped envelope. The most 
interesting, pertinent questions will be pre- 
sented on these pages each month. Write the 
Playboy Advisor, 730 Fifth Avenue, New 
York, New York 10019, or send e-mail by vis- 
iting our website at playboyadvisorcom. 


THE PLAYBOY FORUM 
WHERE’S THE OUTRAGE? 


CONSERVATIVES LOVE MORAL CRUSADES. 
SO WHY DO THEY IGNORE WALL STREET LOOTING? 


BY ROBERT B. REICH 


y first direct experience 
with public morality 
occurred in September 
1964. I was a member of Dart- 
mouth's student court. At the 
time, the school handbook 
made fornication punishable 
by expulsion. We had been 
asked to consider the case of a 
student who had visited Ber- 
muda over spring break with 
his girlfriend. The court was to 
decide whether he had com- 
mitted the dirty deed and, if so, 
whether its occurrence outside 
the school term and beyond 
the boundaries of the U.S. miti- 
gated the offense. As the only 
Íreshman on the court, I was 
obliged to ask the poor fellow 
the penetrating question. He 
admitted everything. Three 
hours later we recommended 
that he be expelled. 
One of the most important 
distinctions a society draws is 
the one between private and 


transgressions of the past, 
such as the insider trading of 
the 1980s, when relatively few 
Americans invested in the 
market. By 2001 more than 
halfofall U.S. households had 
entrusted their savings to the 
CEOs of American corpora- 
tions or to the stockbrokers 
and mutual funds that in turn 
entrust them to thosc CEOs. 
This fleecing of small 
investors isn't the work of 
renegades. The scams have 
required the services of the 
many thousands of people who 
designed, promoted and exe- 
| cuted them or who made a 
point of looking the other way. 
Most of these people are s 
place, and most are still doing 
(or failing to do) the same 
things that caused the abuses. 
Consider that when compa- 
nies “restate” their earnings 
з they're acknowledging that 
j they misinformed investors. 


public morality—which behav- 
iors should be left to a per- 
son's conscience and which to 
public law backed by social condemnation. America has 
come a long way since young men and women were 
expelled for fornicating. 

But radical conservatives are intent on making private 
behavior the subject of public morality. Radcons have 
blended Christian fundamentalism and right-wing moral- 
ism into their larger worldview. They believe activities 
such as abortion, divorce, homosexuality and sex outside 
marriage should be regulated and condemned by society 
as a whole. They think these behaviors are destroying the 
American family. And they blame 1960s liberalism. 

Radcons are correct in one respect: Public morality is 
important. But private sex has nothing to do with it. Lib- 
erals should be screaming from the rooftops about the 
real decline of public morality, which includes fraudulent 
accounting and stock manipulation, insider trading, tax 
evasion, exorbitant pay of top executives, financial con- 
flicts of interest and the bribery of public officials. 

Radcons equate sexual permissiveness with the erosion 
of public morality because they're obsessed with the de- 
cline of discipline in society. Radcons don't worry about the 
misuse of authority, because they re focused on obedience 
to it, not its exercise. They blame a few rotten apples for 
corporate scandals. But the recent (and ongoing) frauds 
represent a larger violation of public trust than corporate 


Let's get our priorities straight. Clockwise from top left: Tyco’s Dennis 
Kozlowski, Enron's Jeff Skilling and Ken Lay, WorldCom's Bernie Ebbers. 


More than 200 companies 
restated earnings in 2003, 
triple the number in the early 
1990s. Even mutual funds can't be trusted. The New 
York attorney general has found that many funds and 
their wealthy clients cut deals that cost ordinary 
investors an estimated $5 billion a year. 

Where are the radcons’ pious declarations of irrespon- 
sibility and sin? Where are the right-wing evangelicals 
who are so quick to see signs of Gomorrah? Apparently 
their gaze extends into our bedrooms but not into the 
executive suite. Could it be that they can't afford to offend 
their financial patrons? Radcons cling to their belief that 
society's poor and weak need to be disciplined. No sex 
before marriage. No welfare payments unless recipients 
work 40 hours a week. Lock up for years those who commit 
petty theft or are caught with drugs, to the point that 
American prisons are bursting. But those at the highest 
reaches of economic power can make their own rules. 

Liberals believe that the CEOs of publicly held compa- 
nies, Wall Street bankers, money managers and publicly 
licensed lawyers and accountants hold positions of public 
trust. The old meaning of being a professional was to be 
anointed with an obligation to the public. That's why 
schools of business and law were established and why pro- 
fessionals take ethics courses and pass public exams. Any- 
one looking at what has been occurring has to ask what 
happened to professional responsibility. In reality the 


it is the risk and cost 


only practical li 
of getting caught. 

Radcons express little concern over 
CEOs looting through outrageous pay 
packages awarded them by their cronies 
on corporate boards even as the value of 
the companies falls. In 1992 Bill Clinton 
campaigned against exorbitant pay. He 
thought it unseemly for the average 
CEO to take home 85 times the salary of 
the average hourly worker. The presi- 
dent proposed that companies be 
prohibited from deducting executive 
pay of more than $1 million a year. 

Things didn't work out the way 
Clinton planned, however. By 2002 
the average CEO was pocketing more 
than 500 times the pay of the average 
worker. Where's the shame? Almost 
every time radcons speak on TV or 
radio they're whining about some 
“shamefu graceful,” “deplor- 
able,” “odious,” “contemptible,” “detest- 
able,” “depraved,” “heinous,” “debased” 
or just plain "vile" behavior—usually 
attributed to the poor, blacks, His- 
panics, homosexuals, feminists, envi- 
ronmentalists or liberals. But I’ve 
never heard radcons apply any of 
these adjectives to CEO pay. The only 
explanation I cancome up with is that, 
again, they don’t want to alienate their 
friends and patrons. 

Corporate apologists justify huge 
salaries by saying CEOs would otherwise 
be lured somewhere else. To believe this 
rationale you've also got to believe that 
(1) other companies are eager to hire 
executives with such lousy track records, 
(2) executives who ride the gravy train 


when the stock market is going up have 
no responsibility to ride it down, as most 
of their employees and shareholders 
must do, and (3) executives can't be 
expected to be loyal to their firms. To 
put it another way, in order to justify 
these salaries one has to engage in ex- 
actly the kind of "nonjudgmentalism" 


Clockwise from top left: Former Merrill 
Lynch CEO David Komansky, Conoco's 
Jim Mulvo, Sun Microsystems’ Scott 
McNealy and Disney's Michoel Eisner— 
stocks went down, their pay went up. 


that Bill Bennett objects to. It’s a tol- 
erance, rooted in moral relativism, that 
refuses to distinguish between right and 
wrong. Radcons can't condemn the 
breakdown of society while celebrating 
this flimflam in corporate America 
They could not care less about CEO pay. 


If you are rich, you somehow deserve it 
If you are poor, you deserve that, too. 

Liberals must sound the alarm. We 
understand that society is endangered 
by the lack of scruples at the top. People 
with wealth and power have a responsi- 
bility to refrain from doing things their 
wealth and power enable them to do 
that undermine the trust that our demo- 
cratic, capitalist system depends on. 
Twice over the last century liberals have 
saved capitalism from its own excesses. 
The first time was in the early 1900s. By 
then captains of industry had monopo- 
lized the economy into giant trusts, 
politics had sunk into a swamp of 
patronage and corruption, and many 
factory jobs were unsafe—entailing 
long hours at meager pay and often 
exploiting children. In response liberals 
championed antitrust laws, civil service 
reforms and labor protections. 

The second save occurred in the 
1930s, afier the stock market collapsed 
and a large portion of the workforce 
was unemployed. Then liberals regu- 
lated banks and insured deposits, 
cleaned up the stock market and pro- 
vided social insurance to the destitute. 

In both cases liberals were accused of 
interfering with the free market. But 
the reformers prevailed by appealing 
to public morality and common sense. 
It is time again for liberals to restore 
confidence in our system 


Reich, the former secretary of labor under 
Bill Clinton, is the author of Reason: Why 
Liberals Will Win the Battle for America, 
from which this commentary was adapied. 


The conservative vocabulary uses 
emotion-laden images that serve as 
conversation stoppers—easy means 
of asserting conclusions without de- 
bate. After all, who could possibly be 
in favor of blaming America first? 
Who could stand against family val- 
ues or a war on terror? 


BIG GOVERNMENT Radcons have 
created the largest and most expen- 
sive military in history, given im- 
mense power to the FBI and pushed 
for huge deficits, yet Democrats are 
the party of “big government.” 

BLAME-AMERICA-FIRSTERS 
Anyone who doubts that the U.S. is 
perfect is accused of belonging to this 
group—unless they're radcons blam- 
ing America for its moral decadence. 


FINDING THE RIGHT WORD: A RADCON GLOSSARY 


IT'S YOUR MONEY Used in antitax 
harangues to fool people into thinking 
that wage earners should be allowed to 
keep all their income; ignores the fact 
that our taxes pay for public schools, 
roads, water, clean air, bridges, the na- 
tional defense, seaports, public health 
and safety and other essential services. 
LIBERAL ELITE A phrase meant to 
mask the reality that radcons are in con- 


God bless the traditional family. 


trol ofthe U.S. House, the Senate, the 
presidency, a significant percentage 
of the federal courts, almost all politi- 
cal think tanks, most of the political- 
opinion media and a large portion of 
the money pouring into Washington. 
TRADITIONAL FAMILY This term 
is contrasted with single parents and 
gay and unmarried couples, who 
are considered deviants. 

WAR ON TERROR These words 
suggest that terrorism can be sub- 
dued through military action 
against easily identifiable adver- 
saries and that the extraordinary 
powers vested in the president will 
be temporary. In fact, fighting ter- 
rorism is more like controlling 
crime, requiring constant policing 
and cooperation. —RR. 


like a question for a freshman philoso- 

phy course, but the way the courts 
answer it could radically change the Net. 
The ADA requires that "places of public 
accommodation" provide access to the 
disabled. That includes businesses such as 
hotels, restaurants, theaters, shopping 
malls, banks, museums, libraries, schools 
and gyms. But should this accessibility be 
required online? 

Robert Gumson, who is 
blind, thinks so. He sued 
Southwest Airlines, claiming 
its site isn't accessible to peo- 
ple who can't see. Rectifying 
that would involve making 
sites compatible with tech- 
nologies such as braille 
printers and text-to-speech 
synthesizers. For deaf peo- 
ple it would include caption- 
ing online videos. 

Lainey Feingold, a Berkeley lawyer 
who specializes in disability rights, says 
activists targeted Southwest in part be- 
cause it offers discount tickets that can be 
ordered only online. That, she says, is the 
equivalent of the airline handing out 
fliers that declare, “If you can read this, 
you get special rates.” She adds, “If you 


| s the Internet a place? That may sound 


A software designer reads braille. 


want to invite people into your store, you 
have to invite everyone.” Critics counter 
that enforcing the act online would seri- 
ously hamper the growth of the web. 
Smail businesses and civic organizations, 
they say, would be discouraged from cre- 
ating new sites because of the expense of 
making them compatible. They also pre- 
dict fishing expeditions by lawyers who 
would threaten to sue sites for not being 
ADA-compatible and then 
settle out of court, as is hap- 
pening to small businesses. 
Disabled activists suffered 
a setback when the federal 
judge hearing the South- 
west case ruled that the 
Internet is not a place. But 
they still have considerable 
clout on their side, including 
the Department of Justice, 
which ruled in 1996 that 
firms covered by the ADA 
should make their sites friendly or risk 
being sued. The National Council on Dis- 
ability, a federal agency that recommends 
policies to the president and Congress, has 
vowed to continue the fight for “digital 
equality." It says a mandatory restructur- 
ing ofthe web for the blind and deafis only 
a matter oftime. —Mark Frauenfelder 


.. YOUR PRIVACY 


BY J.J. 


(1) Stop receiving mail at home 

If you truly want to avoid marketers, 
scammers, stalkers and other unin- 
vited guests, never allow your name to 
be connected with where you live. 
Rent a private mailbox with a commer 
cial mail-receiving agency. A "ghost' 
better: Pick up your mail 
and courier packages at a local office 
or at your accountant's or a friend's 
home. For license renewals or anything 


address 


search, create a limited liability 
pany (see No. 4) and buy a forwarding. 
address from a service in Alaska. 


(2) Change your phone number 
Even better, cancel your land line and 
use a prepaid cell phone. If you need 


UNA 


(3) Never use your license as ID 
If you don't have a passport, order 
one. Passports don't list Social Secu- 
rity numbers or addresses. 


(4) Take your name off all title: 
Establish a New Mexico limited liability 
company. LLC ownership is anony- 
mous in that state, and no annual re- 
ports are required. Use your LLC when 
you purchase vehicles, boats, real es- 
tate or whatever. Unlike corporations, 
single-member LLCs do not usually 
require a tax ID and are not named on 
your returns. (Income, if any, is listed 
as personal income on Schedule C.) 


(5) Buy a cross-cut shredder 
You wouldn't believe what people can 
learn from your trash. 


a land line for an Internet connection, 


at least cancel your present phone. 
“Two weeks later have a legal proxy or 
nominee (established with a simple 
form) order a new unlisted number. 


Luna is the author of the newly revised. 
How to Be Invisible: The Essential 
Guide to Protecting Your Personal Pri- 
vacy, Your Assets and Your Life. 


MARGINALIA 


FROM A DISSENT 
by Reuben Ortega, a Cali- 
fornia appeals judge, in а 
case in which two moviegoers sued 
Sony Pictures for running ads with 
praise from a reviewer who didn't exist. 
The court ruled that the suit could 
proceed. The plaintiffs have asked for 
$4.5 million, to be split among every- 
опе persuaded to see Rob Schneider's 
The Animal or led to believe that Heath 
Ledger was "the year's hottest star": 
"Imagine the great contribution this 
case will make to our quality of lite and 
to justice in America. A new day will 
dawn, from which time no one will 
ever again be fooled by a promotion 
touting a movie as the greatest artistic 
accomplishment of the ages. From that 
day on, all persons will be able to 
absolutely rely on the truth and accur- 
acy of movie ads. No longer will people 
be seen lurching like mindless zombies 
toward the theater, compelled by a 
puff piece... We should be occupying 
ourselves with resolving legitimate 
disputes instead of laughable cases 
designed to generate attorney fees.” 


FROM A RULING by a federal 
appeals court in a lawsuit filed by Chris- 
tian fundamentalists angered that the 
Alabama Supreme Court removed a Ten 
Commandments 


appellants con- 
tend that the re- 

moval created 

empty space 

and that this 

empty space 

violates the First 

Amendment 

because it is an 

endorsement of 

religion—in 

this instance, 

nentreism. If the appellants were 
correct, every time a violation of the Es- 
tablishment Clause is found and cured 
by removal of a statute or practice, that 
cure itself would violate the First Amend- 
ment by leaving behind empty space.” 


FROM A RESPONSE by North- 
west Airlines to complaints that it 
deceived customers by giving their 
personal data to the government for a 
study of how analysis of such data 
might identify terrorists: “Passengers 
have no inherent right or expectation of 
total privacy in the information 
provided when traveling on commercial 
airlines, The only relevant basis for 
privacy protection is Northwest's 
privacy policy, which does not support 
these allegations of deception. The 
plain meaning of the policy is an assur- 
ance that customer information will not 
be commercially exploited and that itis 
secure from hackers. Northwest ful- 
filled these promises. A reasonable 
person does not expect privacy in his 
or her personal information, effects or 
behavior on an aircraft or in an airport, 
because he or she knows that the price 
of privacy is diminished safety.” 
(continued оп page 55) 


READER RESPONSE 


SHERMAN AUSTIN’S ORDEAL 

On January 24, 2002 more than 25 
state and federal agents, with guns 
drawn, raided my home in Sherman 
Oaks, California. They told my 18-year- 
old son, Sherman Austin, that they had 
the authority of the U.S. Patriot Act. 
According to the warrant, they sus- 
pected him of making explosives and 
weapons of mass destruction. 

‘Three agents questioned Sherman 


Did Sherman Austin’s views get him busted? 


without legal counsel for four hours 
about his website, raisethefist.com. 
"They asked if he would like to see Pres- 
ident Bush dead and quizzed him about 
being a terrorist. 1 arrived home from 
work after the raid had begun. 

The agents left without Sherman. He 
was not charged with anything. The 
FBI told us that his site, which con- 
tained criticism of the Bush administra- 
tion and reports about radical politics, 
had stepped "slightly" over the line. 

A few days later Sherman drove to 
New York to attend a protest against the 
World Bank. Shortly before the rally he 
was surrounded by FBI agents and 
thrown into a black SUV. He spent two 
weeks in prison before being released 
without charges, Three days after Sher- 
man’s arrest the New York Post reported 
that the FBI had found bomb-making 
instructions on his site, along with “liter- 
ature advocating revolution.” The FBI 
said it had recovered gas canisters, iced 
tea bottles filled with flammable material 
and gas masks from my home and that 
Sherman's car had contained fertilizer, 
cans of brake fluid and gas canisters. 

The fertilizer was potting soil that I 
use for planting. The bottles were being 
saved for recycling. The brake fluid 
and gas canister were part of Sher- 
man’s emergency road kit for his 1981 
Toyota. The Army surplus gas mask, 
which was not functional, was a prop 
used for street theater. I'm divorced 
and work full time, but I'm not an absent 
parent. Indeed I am a pacifist and 


would never allow weapons of any kind 
in my home. I can assure you that Sher- 
man, who has never committed a vio- 
lent crime, was not making or hiding 
weapons in his bedroom. 

Sherman's website was critical of the 
political status quo, but that's not a crime. 
The alleged bomb recipe was not posted 
by Sherman but by an immature teen- 
ager who had access to free hosting space 
on Sherman's server. Possessing or shar- 
ing this type of information is not illegal; 
it's made available by many sources and 
has been found by courts to be protected 
(if ill-advised) speech. What is illegal, ac- 
cording to a law championed by Senator 
Dianne Feinstein, is posting the informa- 
tion with the "knowledge or intent" that 
it will be used to commit violence. The 
statute makes it easy for the government 
to go after people it wishes to silence 

Six months after the raid prosecutors 
offered a deal: Sherman could plead 
guilty to distribution with intent and 
they would recommend 30 days in jail 
plus three months in a halfway house 
and three years of probation. Sherman, 
who was innocent, refused to sign the 
plea. After prosecutors threatened to 
add a 20-year "terrorist enhancement," 
he signed. But Judge Stephen Wilson 
rejected the deal, saying it wouldn't be a 
deterrent "to other revolutionaries who 
want to change the world according to 
their own views." 

The prosecutor, a prison psychologist 
(who called Sherman a "peaceful, mild- 
mannered” teenager who represented 
no threat), the Justice Department and 
the FBI all asked for leniency. Instead 
Judge Wilson sent my son to the federal 
penitentiary for a year. 

Sherman is a youth of high ideals 
who cares deeply about people, his 
country and the world. He is committed 
to nonviolence and has condemned 
terrorist acts as murder, Under the 
government's elastic conditions, every 
home in America contains “bomb- 
making materials"—putting every critic 
of the government at risk of arrest. 

I am hoping that my son, who has 
suffered a true injustice, will be home in 
September. There are more details at 
freesherman.org. 

Jennifer Martin Ruggiero 
Los Angeles, California 


VERY SPECIAL GUN GROUPS 
Very Special Interest Groups (March) is 
intended to be humorous. But it speaks 
volumes about how irresponsible and 


dependent on government Americans 
have become. The gun-rights group you 
include doesn't belong in that list. Un- 
like special interest groups that use the 
power of government to victimize tax- 
payers, consumers and competitors (for 
example, teachers’ unions, the Ameri- 
can Association of Retired Persons, sub- 
sidized farmers and the postal service), 
gun owners seek no advantage over oth- 
ers. In fact they help the community by 
deterring crime, Our ancestors under- 
stood that responsibility includes self- 
defense. That is how the United States 
lasted for 160 years without military 
conscription, a standing army or an ob- 
scenely bloated Pentagon budget. Even 
citizens who choose not to own a gun 
benefit from an armed population, be- 
cause criminals are never sure who is a 
safe target. Private gun ownership is the 
closest thing there is to a free lunch. 

Carl Vassar 

Trumbull, Connecticut 


THE TROUBLE WITH IRAQ 
Toby Dodge's chart about the similar- 
ities between the British invasion of 
Iraq in 1920 and the U.S. attack last 
year (Repeating History, March) is infor- 
mative but misses an important point. 
The reason Bush invaded Iraq was 


Future presidents with sons and brothers. 


for the lucrative oil fields, not to bring 
down Saddam. The war on terror is a 
red herring. 
Edward Blomdahl 
Franklin, Massachusetts 


THE CASE AGAINST BUSH 
Your articles on President Bush are 
narrow-minded and repetitive and bor- 
der on propaganda. Were you as critical 
of Bill Clinton when he was president? 
Jason Goolesby 
Lebanon, Tennessee 
No, but we had more fun with him. 


E-mail: forum@playboy.com. Or write: 730 
Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10019. 


FORUM 


NEWSFRONT 


Hard-Car Porn 


There's a whole lotta DWH (driving 
while horny) going on. In Schenectady, 
New York a cop ticketed a man for driv- 
ing with the porn DVD Chocolate Foam 
playing on the headrest and visor moni- 
tors. In Canterbury, New Hampshire a 
suspected drunk driver had a portable 
player on the seat. When an officer 
opened the device, an adult film began 
playing midmovie (police also found a 
pistol, stolen jewelry and what appeared 
to be cocaine, making the DVD the least 
of the driver's worries). In Leeds City, 
U.K. a taxi driver earned tips by showing 
porn on his dash. Unfortunately he 
picked up two city council members, 
who had his license revoked. Finally, an 
Illinois mother stuck in traffic who saw 
porn in another car fumed to a reporter, 
"You're not allowed to have sex in your 
car, so why are you allowed to watch it?" 


Making Up Stories 


GAROEN GROVE, CALIFORNIA—Three 11-year-old 
girls who were late returning home after 
school told their parents that a homeless man 
had attacked them. The man spent eight 
months in jail awaiting trial, until his principal 
accuser confessed that it had been a hoax. A 
judge sentenced each girl to 30 to 45 days in 
juvenile hall. The accused man's attorney 
blamed Proposition 115, which California vot- 
ers passed in 1990. It allows police to read 
the alleged victim's statement at the prelim- 
inary hearing rather than have the victim 
testify in person. The homeless man faulted 
police, saying, "Prosecuting these kids is just a 
way to get the cops off the hook.” 


Clean Read 


SALT LAKE Crrv— During her first semester study- 
ing acting at the University of Utah, a Mormon 
woman refused to participate in an exercise 
because the script contained the words god- 
damn and fucking. She claims that professors 
told her to "get over it." A federal judge ruled 
that her rights to free speech and freedom of 
religion had not been violated, but an appeals 
court sent the case back for a jury trial. 


Thumbs-Down 


LARGO, FLORIOA—The Pinellas County school 
system plans to install GPS transponders to 
track students on its 750 buses. Students will 
press their finger against a sensor whenever 
they enter or leave the bus. Officials say the 
$2.26 million project improves safety. It 
doesn't take a reproducible fingerprint, they 


say, but uses the touch only to create a unique 
code. An ACLU spokesman worries that “we 
are conditioning these children to understand 
that they have no personal space." 


Thin-Mint Monster 


CRAWFORO, TExas—Last year the local Girl 
Scouts gave a "woman of distinction" award 
to a Planned Parenthood executive. For years 
the Scouts have endorsed a Planned Parent- 
hood program through which fifth- through 
ninth-graders receive brochures containing in- 
formation on condoms, homosexuality and 
masturbation. When the leader of Pro-Life Waco. 
found out, he called for a cookie boycott. But 
the plan backfired, and sales skyrocketed. 


Barbie vs. Mommy 


CONCORD, MICHIGAN—TO demonstrate the math- 
ematical principle of proportion, a teacher 
told her seventh-grade stu- 
dents to compare the mea- 
surements of a Barbie doll 
to their own, their mother's 
or the teacher's. Some 
results were tacked onto a 
classroom wall before par- 
ents complained. "Breasts 
have no place in a math 
class," said one mother. 
Another parent disagreed, 
saying, "We figured out that 
Barbie has the waist of a 
six-year-old." The school board decided not to 
discipline the teacher but told students they 
didn't have to complete the assignment. 


MARGINALIA 


(conlinued from page 53) 


FROM A DECISION by a Maryland 
judge in the case of Marcie Betts, who 
sued the state after being fired from 
her job at the Roxbury Correctional. 
Institution: "1 find the following facts: 
(1) In May 2002 Betts filed an applica- 
tion for employment. (2) On May 29, 
2002, before being hired, Betts sold 
two CDs containing B1 photos of her- 
self to an Internet site called Buming 
Angel. (3) The photos were taken by 
Betts and her husband and were sold 


depict Betts licking a dildo, with a 
dildo in her mouth and with her finger 
in her vagina and anus. (4) The photos 
have not been determined to be 
obscene. (5) On October 29 Betts was 
hired as a correctional officer. (6) On 
January 20, while Betts was on duty in 
the dining hall, she was approached by 
another officer, who asked if she had 
appeared in photos on the Internet. 
Betts replied that she had not. On the 
same day, Betts was asked the same 
question by an inmate, and she again 
replied she had not. (7) On January 21 
а packet containing some of the photos 
from the site was anonymously 

placed under the warden's 

door. (8) On January 22 Betts 
acknowledged that the 
photos were of her. (9) 
Prison investigators 
accessed the website 
by paying a member- 
ship fee and printed 
the 81 photos. (10) On 
January 29 Betts was 
fired." The judge ruled 
that the prison had 
violated Betts's First 
Amendment rights. 


FROM A POEM about the impor- 
tance of proofreading that a teacher in 
Dunedin, Florida gave as an exercise to 
her eighth-grade students. One parent. 
called the poem, which is posted at 
taylormali.com, "sexually harassing": 
"But there are several missed 
aches / that a spell chukker can't can't 
catch catch. / For instant, if you acci- 
dentally leave a word / your spell 
exchequer won't put it in you. / And 
God for billing purposes only/ you 
should have serial problems with Tori 
‘Spelling / your spell Chekhov might 
replace a word / with one you had 
absolutely no detention of using. / 
Because what do you want it to 
douch? / It only does what you tell it to 
douche. / You're the one with your hand 
on the mouth going сїй, clit, clit. / It just 
goes to show you how embargo / one 
careless clit of the mouth can be. 
“Which reminds me of this one time 
during my Junior Mint. / The teacher 
read my entire paper on A Sale of Two 
Titties / out loud to all of my assmates. / 
I'm not joking, I'm totally cereal. / It 
was the most humidifying experience 
‘of my life, / being laughed at pubically. 
“So do yourself a flavor and follow 
these two Pisces of advice: / One: There 
is no prostitute for careful editing. / And 
three: When it comes to proofreading, / 
the red penis your friend." 


Marcie Betts, 


FORUM 


DIRTY AIR 
THE FCC IS CRACKING DOWN. CAN YOU MATCH THE 
BROADCASTERS WITH THEIR SEX TALK? 


EUM HE —-— 

Host: You are a cocksman. I can't believe you 
banged her. Did you get anal? No anal? I need 
anal tapes. Anal tapes are my thing. She likes 
orgasms. ГА like to bang her. 

Co-host: I think we're getting too into the locker- 
room talk. 

Guest: The anal game... 

Caller: We want to smell your fingers. Ever bang 
a famous nigger chick? What do they smell like? 
Watermelons? 

Host: Did you do the Olsen twins? 

Guest: I usually find one girl 1 like to sleep 


better time than now to play an interview with 
one Ron Jeremy fan. 

Woman: I masturbate with Jeremy's video 
every day. Uh, not every day, but every other 
weekend 

Interviewer: What is it that you like about him? 
Woman: The way he licks pussy. I want to do a 
threesome with him, see who's the best. If 1 can 
lick better or he can lick better. 


TE jen Een 
how you engage in anal sex, that's over the line. 
He can do the lesbian dial-a-date and the butt- 


with and stay with her. The girl I'm with now is married bongo fiesta, still get the ratings and not gross everybody 


and famous. 

Host: It would be great if that woman were Laura Bush, 
the president's wife. How about Paris Hilton's privates? 
Guest: She's got the greatest privates in the world. 


Host: Let's talk about that secret language. 1 didn't know 
any of thi 

Guest: I have gotten a whole new vocabulary, let me tell you. 
Host: What isa salad toss? 

Guest: A tossed salad is—hold on to your underwear for 
this one—oral-anal sex. So oral sex with the anus is what 
that would be. A rainbow party is an oral-sex party. It's a 
gathering where oral sex is performed. Rainbow comes 
from all of the girls putting on lipstick; each one puts her 
mouth around the penis of the gentleman or gentlemen 
who are there to receive favors and makes a mark in a dif- 
ferent place on the penis. 

mom 


Host: Porn legend Ron Jeremy is 50 today. Ron says he con- 
tinues to film sex scenes without needing Viagra. What 


HOWARD STERN BILL O'REILLY 


(1) From the Howard Stern Show, February 24. The next day 
Clear Channel pulled Stern from its stations. Six weeks later the 


ош... He kissed Snoop Dogg's butt all over the place... 
‘The graphic depictions of anal sex on the radio in the 
morning are unacceptable in this country... You'd let him 
continue to use the N word and depict anal sex?... There 
are no hos in the Howard world.... You don't need to 
debrief people about anal sex or say the N word on the air 
to be successful... You can put off [the sex talk with your 
kids], particularly anal sex. 

ШОИ A ——— 
Chipmunk voice: Alvin, why do you look so frustrated? 
Alvin: I haven't been laid in almost six weeks. 

Chipmunk: Well, do you know what the problem is? It's 
that {[bleep|cking pussy music we play. 

Alvin: What do you mean? 

Chipmunk: If we wanna get bitches, we have to play more 
kick-ass music. Check this sh[bleep] out, Alvin: "Suck on 
my chipmunk [bleep]s. Put 'em in your mouth and 
[bleep]uck ‘ет, filthy chipmunk whore. Suck on my chip- 
munk [ер]. They taste like pistachios. They're warm 
and fuzzy. Suck my [bleep].” 


BUBBA THE LOVE SPONGE 


worth $27,500 each. The agency also fined Elliot $55,000 last 
year for a conversation involving two high school girls who 


FCC fined the company $495,000 for an April 2003 show that | claimed they fellated their Catholic-school classmates. The hosts 


included discussion of “the sexual practices of certain cast mem- 
bers” and a plug for a personal hygiene product called Sphinc- 
terine. It brought Stern's total FCC fines to nearly $2.5 million. 

(2) From The Oprah Winfrey Show, March 18. Oprah was speak- 
ing to an O magazine writer who had interviewed 50 teenage 
girls about their sex lives. Stern tried to air the segment on his 
show but was stymied by his management. Stern reasoned, “If 
the FCC fines me for playing this, then they have 10 fine Oprah.” 
(3) From Elliot in the Morning. The bit aired three times on three 
stations, which the FCC decided in March was nine violations 


made repeated references to “blow jobs,” provided sucking 
sounds and asked if the girls were “giving up semen for Lent. 
(4) From The Radio Factor, with Bill O'Reilly, March 11. Refer- 
ring to Stern, one caller said, "He has women farting out of 
their vaginas,” but O'Reilly zapped it during the seven-second 
delay (the exchange appears in the online version of the show). 
(5) From Bubba the Love Sponge. In March the FCC fined Clear 
Channel $755,000 for 26 Bubba violations, including this parody, 
plus four public file violations. Clear Channel immediately 
fired Bubba, who vowed to take his show (o satellite. 


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sam ve. MICHAEL MOORE 


A candid conversation with the loudmouthed provocateur about Bush's IQ, 
Hillary’s thighs and why we should hire the Israelis to kill Osama bin Laden 


In his latest movie, Fahrenheit 911, filmmaker, 
author and rabble-rouser Michael Moore 
questions President Bush's long-standing 
business relationships with the Bin Laden 
family and Saudi businessmen and accuses 
the president of using the terrorist attack on 
America to push his own agenda. It's typical 
Moore overkill, a reminder of how improbable 
it is that the unkempt, overweight, scraggly- 
bearded liberal has become an American 
icon—demonic or heroic depending on your 
point of view. For his politically infused hu- 
mor and humor-infused politics, Moore, the 
nation’s best-selling nonfiction author and 
lop-grossing documentary filmmaker, has been 
compared to Jonathan Swift, H.L. Mencken, 
Lenny Bruce, Abbie Hoffman and even Lau- 
rel and Hardy. 

Moore's latest book, Dude, Where's My 
Country?, has been the top-selling nonfiction 
title of the year. Its predecessor, Stupid White 
Men, earned the same distinction in 2002, 
and Moore's earlier books, Downsize This! 
and Adventures in a TV Nation, were also 
best-sellers. His 2002 movie, Bowling for 
Columbine, about the high school shootings in 
Littleton, Colorado and the roots of America’s 
obsession with guns, grossed $21 million— 
three times more than any other documentary 
in history—and won the Academy Award for 


“Here's what I want to know about gay 
marriage: Has anybody told the gays and 
lesbians what marriage is? We married peo- 
ple are all sitting here asking, ‘Why are they 
зо damn eager to do this?” 


best documentary. His breakthrough movie, 
1989's Roger & Me, documents Moore's at- 
tempt to confront General Motors chairman 
Roger Smith about the automaker's plant clos- 
ings that devastated Moore's hometown of 
Flint, Michigan. The film, “a hilarious bit of 
propaganda,” according to the Washington 
Post, was a surprise hit. 

Moore, 50, grew up in and around Flint in 
a working-class Irish American family. Both 
his father and his grandfather worked at GM. 
Moore was voted class clown in high school, 
the same year he ran for the local board of 
education and won. He briefly attended col- 
lege at the University of Michigan and con- 
sidered a job at GM after graduation. Instead 
he edited a series of alternative newspapers 
and began working for Ralph Nader. He 
financed Roger & Me by hosting bingo games. 
Moore's forays into television include the 
short-lived series TV Nation and The Awful 
Truth, both of which became cult hits. 

Dividing his time between New York and 
Michigan, Moore is married to Kathleen 
Glynn, with whom he produces his movies, 
and has an 18-year-old daughter. No, he isn’t 
running for president—despite an indepen- 
dent online petition drive that garnered tens 
of thousands of fans’ signatures—but he has 
been actively involved in the election, railing 


E 


“Only 1 million to 2 million people watch 
Fox News at any given time. Let's not waste 
our time worrying about something as 
irrelevant as Fox News. It’s a great thing to 
tune in to for a laugh." 


against Bush on talk shows and at michael 
moore.com, his popular website. When Con- 
tributing Editor David Sheff mel with him, 
Moore gleefully admitted that Fahrenheit 
911, his most strident attack on Bush to date, 
is timed to do as much damage as possible to 
the president before the November election. 


PLAYBOY: What exactly does Fahrenheit 
911 mean? 

MOORE: It's the temperature of hysteria 
that has allowed the Bush administra- 
tion to get away with a series of uncon- 
scionable acts since 9/11. They used the 
3,000 victims of the terrorist attack as a 
cover to enact their right-wing agenda. 
The tragedy was a bonanza for the 
administration. Immediately after the 
dead were buried, Bush's people real- 
ized they had a golden opportunity. 
PLAYBOY: Even you wouldn't suggest that 
they were happy about 9/11, would you? 
MOORE: You'll never see them rubbing 
their hands together in public, because it 
would be so crass, but that's what they 
did. A tragedy was handed to them, and 
they decided to spin some gold. 

PLAYBOY: Gold in the form of- 
MOORE: A never-ending war. The problem 
with earlier wars was that they ended, 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY DAVIO ROSE 


“My wife and I went to meet Howard Dean 
with the idea of supporting him. We brought 
our checkbook, But we weren't in the room 
with him five minutes when we thought, 
Geez, this guy is kind of a prick.” 


59 


PLAYBOY 


but the war on terrorism is ongoing. 
You'll never catch every terrorist. 
PLAYBOY: You can't deny the threat of ter- 
rorism, can you? 

MOORE: Of course not, but Bush has not 
addressed the problem in a way that 
makes us safer. The other day in an air- 
port 1 saw an 87-year-old woman in а 
wheelchair being forced to take off her 
shoes. Does anybody in his right mind 
really think we're safer now? Homeland 
security is an excuse to take away our 
rights, spy on us and isolate dissenters 
with accusations that they are unpatriotic 
and dangerous. They are eroding our 
rights and freedoms, doing the terrorists’ 
work for them. We're telling the terror- 
ists, “You're not going to take our free- 
doms away, you bastards. We're 
going to do it ourselves.” We will 
spy on our own citizens in the 
guise of making them safer. We 
will read their mail, listen on 
their phones, search them at 
will, lock them up without expla- 
nation. Yet no one is safer. We 
are hated throughout the world 
now more than ever before, pre- 
cisely because of Bush's so-called 
war on terror, Any country oper- 
ating unilaterally, orchestrating 
a war, and doing so under the 
guise of a lie that has been ex- 
posed as a lie, becomes a bigger, 
not a smaller, target. The lying 
is unfathomable. 

PLAYBOY: Let's face it, all presi- 
dents lie. 

MOORE: Sure, pcople were up in 
arms about Clinton's lie—"1 did 
not have sexual relations with 
that woman" —but it pales when 
compared with Bush's lies. Bush 
told the American people and 
the rest of the world that Sad- 
dam had weapons of mass de- 
struction, and he initiated a war 
based on that lic. Hc killed hun- 
dreds of American soldiers and 
wounded and maimed thou- 
sands. He killed thousands of 
innocent Iraqis. Bush used these 
lies on top of 9/1] as an excuse to 
attack Iraq, which was part of his 
agenda from the day he stole the election. 
As we know from the congressional hear- 
ings, Bush was obsessed with Saddam 
from the day he took office. According to 
Richard Clarke's and others’ testimony, 
the obsession with Iraq diverted attention 
from Bin Laden and the other terrorists 
who actually did threaten us. 

PLAYBOY: The administration claims 
Clarke isn't telling the truth. 

MOORE: With no success whatsoever. 
They accused Clarke of timing his book 
for the election, but he was saying these 
things well before the hearings. 1 inter- 
viewed him for Fahrenheit 911 months 
before his book came out. Here is a 
Republican who felt morally and person- 


&0 ally responsible for the attack because 


the administration, of which he was a 
part, didn't do enough. His apology to 
the families of the victims was powerful 
and stood out because the other political 
weenies would never apologize—they 
view it as a sign of weakness. They don't 
understand that being honest, apologiz- 
ing and asking for forgiveness are signs 
of strength and courage. 

PLAYBOY: If Bush's war on terror has 
been ineffective, what would have been 
the appropriate response? 

MOORE: Osama did it, right? Not Sad- 
dam. Get the perpetrator. That's first. 
PLAYBOY. How do you propose accom- 
plishing what American military and 
intelligence forces have been unable to 
accomplish? 


ee. 


EM 
Deas. 


Oils Well 
het Ends Well 


Don't forget that 1 million gays 
voted for George W. Bush. | predict 
that he just lost a million votes. 


MOORE: Hire the Israelis to find Osama 
and kill him. 

PLAYBOY: Why the Israelis? 

MOORE: They're better at this sort of 
thing than we are. I don't support assas- 
sination, but let's face facts. Israel 
wanted to kill the Hamas leader, Sheik 
Ahmed Yassin, and they took him out. 
When their people were taken hostage 
at Entebbe, they went in and got them 
back. Get the culprits, not their neigh- 
bors and people who look like them. In 
my movie a counterterrorism agent 
from the FBI says the following: “Most 
people don't realize that there are only 
around 190 Al Qaeda members world- 
wide. That's it.” They have support cells 
and people who aid and abet them, but 


there are only 190 full-fledged mem- 
bers. One hundred and ninety people 
can do a lot of damage—they pose a ѕегі- 
ous threat. So get them. 

PLAYBOY: Whether it's one terrorist, like 
Bin Laden, or 190 or thousands, it's not 
as easy as that. 

MOORE: I agree. But let's say this were 
1939 and we learned there were only 
190 Nazis. I think we could deal with 
the problem. If Abe Lincoln had been 
told there were 190 Confederates giving 
the Union a bit of trouble, he probably 
could have taken care of it fairly easily. 
We give the Israelis billions of dollars a 
year. They're better at this assassination 
stuff than we are. So we tell them, “We 
need you to get rid of 190 people." But 
Bush wants those 190 people 
out there because the threat 
means he can do what he wants 
with impunity. 

PLAYBOY: There have been no 
attacks on U.S. soil since 9/11. 
Some argue this is proof that 
homeland security measures 
are working. 

MOORE: After the original attack 
on the World Trade Center in 
1993, the total number of 
attacks on U.S. soil in 1994 was 
zero. In 1995? Zero. In 1996? 
Zero. In 1997, 1998, 1999, 
2000? Zero. Who takes credit 
for that? Bush tries to have it 
both ways. If we have no attacks, 
he takes credit for it. On the 
other hand, if there is another 
horrible attack before the elec- 
tion, they'll say, “See, we warned 
you. You need to keep us in 
office because of the threat.” In 
fact, I would argue that the 
Republicans are responsible for 
our lack of preparedness prior 
to 9/11. It goes beyond their ob- 
session with Iraq. In the late 
1990s the Republicans should 
not have wasted the federal gov- 
ernment's time trying to im- 
peach Clinton. 

PLAYBOY: How is that relevant? 
MOORE: At one time during 
Clinton's presidency 200 FBI 
agents were assigned to the so-called 
Clinton scandals. What if those agents 
had been doing their job, such as trying 
to track down those who were here to kill 
us? Perhaps they could have returned 
the phone calls from the people in flight- 
training schools in Florida calling to say it 
seemed a little strange that students 
wanted to take flying lessons but didn't 
want to learn how to take off or land. 
Calls like that were ignored. You have to 
wonder if the Republicans are not some- 
what responsible for the lack of pre- 
paredness in the country because they 
were so obsessed about where Clinton 
had placed his cigar. 

PLAYBOY: Republicans would argue that 
the issue transcended sex. 


MOORE: That's nonsense. If they think 
anyone is having good sex, their heads 
just start to spin like Linda Blair's. The 
thought of anyone enjoying sex sends 
Republicans into a tailsp 
PLAYBOY: And this theory of yours is 
based on—— 

MOORE: It’s obvious. Clinton was particu- 
larly horrific to them because he repre- 
sented the guy in high school who got all 
the babes. It drove them crazy. If you're 
Newt Gingrich, Dennis Hastert, Trent 
Lott or any of those guys, you remember 
well who the Bill Clinton was in your high 
school. Those guys never got to go out 
with the cheerleaders. In fact they had to 
become cheerleaders—iiterally in the cases 
of Bush and Lott. Here was a chance for 
some payback. Look at the way they went 
berserk when they saw Janet Jackson's 
nipple. Did you know that 24 hours after 
the Super Bowl incident Bill O'Reilly said 
on his show—and I'm quoting—"1 want 
to kill Michael Moore.” He was talking to 
Rudolph Giuliani about the left and the 
people who attack him. Once he told a 
caller to his show that he'd like to—and 
once again I quote—“put a bullet 
through Al Franken's head.” The num- 
ber of complaints to the FCC over that? 
Zero. Yet after Janet Jackson's nipple— 
and it was only 10 percent of her nipple 
that was exposed, by the way—every- 
thing on TV had to be on tape delay, and 
the fines were tripled. What can I do? I 
can file a complaint with the FCC, I can 
sue him, or.I can kill him first. That's 
essentially what I've decided to do. 
PLAYBOY: Kill him? 

MOORE: Make sure you add to that quote, 
“he said jokingly, and then he reminded 
us that he is a pacifist.” 

PLAYBOY: So how big a factor in the up- 
coming election are O'Reilly and his ilk? 
MOORE: They're preaching to the con- 
verted. Only 1 million to 2 million peo- 
ple watch Fox News at any given time 
Let's not vaste our time worrying about 
something as irrelevant as Fox News. If 
you have cable, it's a great thing to tune 
in to for a laugh. It's better than Comedy 
Central. O'Reilly is a cartoon. Neil Cavu- 
to is all pompous sincerity. Ann Coulter's 
trip is an act. She wants to be hated. It's 
part of her charm. 

PLAYBOY: How do they compare with the 
CNN commentators and anchors? 
MOORE: In some ways CNN's are worse 
because you expect more from them. 
They waste too much time wringing their 
hands that they aren't like Fox. They're 
obsessed with trying to catch up in the 
ratings when they should do everything 
they can to separate themselves. People 
at The New York Times don't sit around 
saying, "Why can't we be more like the 
National Enquirer?" CNN should know its 
place and do the job a lot of us wish they 
would do, which is to stay true to the 
path. They don't have to be liberal or left, 
just do their job. Tell the truth. Dig. 
PLAYBOY: Al Franken is hosting a show on 


THE LEFT'S MERRY PRANKSTER 


Think liberals are timid? Watch Michael Moore in action 


Target: George W. Bush 

Scenario: Moore enlivens the deadly dull 
2003 Academy Awards when he accepts 
оп Oscar for Bowling far Columbine and 
launches into a red-faced tirade against 
the wor in Iraq. “Shame on you, Mr. Bush!” 
he screams, to a cascade of boos. 

Result: Host Steve Martin cracks, “It was 
so sweet backstage. The teamsters were 
helping Michael into the trunk of his limo.” 


Target: Our trusting northern neighbors 
Scenario: When Moore learns that Cana- 
dians rarely lock their front doors—despite 
high unemployment and a racially mixed 
population—he puts it to the test, randomly 
barging into five Toronto homes. 

Result: No! one of the houses is locked! 
And no one calls the cops when they find 
Moore in their living room. “Thanks for not 
shooting me,” he tells one home owner. 


Target: Jesse Helms 3 
Scenario: Moore plants the Goy Men's 
Chorus outside the Washington, D.C. office 
window of the homo-hating senator, where 
it performs "What the World Needs Now Is 
Love." Next stop: Helms's house, where the 
chorus croons "On the Street Where You Live." 
Result: The door opens, and out pops his 
wife, who is delighted by the singers. Sadly, 
the senator isn't home to shore her joy. 


Loose gun lows 

Scenario: “I wont the account where | can 
get the free gun,” says a chipper Moore ot 
а Michigan bank that doubles as a licensed 
firearms dealer. "You open o CD and we'll 
hand you a gun,” says the manager. 
Result: Moore completes the background 
check and is handed a rifle by a bank 
employee, who astutely notes, "That's a 
straight shooter, let me tell you.” 


Target: Racist cabbies 

Scenario: Moore has Emmy Award-nomi- 
nated African American actor Yaphet Kotto 
and a scary-looking white guy named 
Louie—a veteran of four prison stoys—hail 
a cab not 20 yards from each other. 

Result: Despite attempts to make Kotto 
‘appear less threatening by putting a baby 
in his arms and a tuxedo on his back, cob- 
bies always pass him over for the ex-con. 


Target: Rich people with nice beoches 

Scenario: When the well-to-do folks of 
Greenwich, Connecticut begin keeping 
outsiders off their public beach, Moore 
sends Janeane Garofalo and a mob of 
pissed-off New Yorkers to storm the sands. 
Result: Stopped by the Coast Guard, 
Garofolo and friends swim to shore, where 
they're met by locals shouting, “Go back 
where you came from!” — STEVEN CHEAN 


61 


PELTA SABLO FY, 


Air America, the new talk-radio network 
started as a liberal answer to the right- 
wing stations. Does it have a chance? 
MOORE: We'll see. The liberals have lost 
their sense of humor over the years; it's 
disgusting to think that members of the 
right are considered the funny ones. If 
you could have Al Franken on 24 hours 
a day or find five other Al Frankens, it 
would work. But the heads of the station 
are saying things like "We don't want to 
offend too many people." That's the 
same wimpy, lame tone that has cost the 
left everything. Instead of fighting as 
the Republicans fight, they say, "Let's all 
be nice." Nice has lost us the House, the. 
Senate, the White House, the Supreme 
Court and the majority of the governor- 
ships. Asa result of "Can't we all just get 
along?" we control nothing. It’s a won- 
derful sentiment, but if the storm troop- 
ers are coming down the street, you 
don't meet them with daisies. 

PLAYBOY: Sometimes it seems you simply 
demonize Bush in the same way the 
right demonized Clinton. 

MOORE: I'm not upset about Bush's sex 
life. I'm upset that he sends our young 
menand women in uniform to war so that 
his oil-company friends can get control 
of the oil reserves in Iraq, so that his oil- 
company friends can finally build their 
pipeline to Afghanistan. I don't know if 
there's a word in the English language to 
describe how loathsome this is. Millions 
of people in this country are like me, still 
trying to figure out why we went to war. 
Inside the average American beats a good 
liberal heart, and Americans are appalled. 
PLAYBOY: But many Americans aren't 
appalled. At the time of this interview 
about half the country continues to sup- 
port Bush. And most Americans do not 
describe themselves as liberal. 

MOORE: Look at the issues. The majority 
of Americans are pro-choice and pro- 
labor and want stronger environmental 
laws. They're more conservative only 
when it comes to the death penalty, 
though support for that has dropped 
from 80 percent to about 57 percent. 
PLAYBOY: They also oppose gay marriage. 
MOORE: Here's what I want to know 
about gay marriage: Has anybody told 
the gays and lesbians what marriage is? 
We married people are all sitting here 
asking, "Why are they so damn eager to. 
do this?" 

PLAYBOY; Your wife must love it when you 
say that. 

MOORE: She agrees with me, believe me. 
PLAYBOY: But we presume you support 
gay marriage. 

MOORE: Of course. I'm convinced the 
polls are wrong. When a stranger from 
some poll calls you at eight вм. and asks 
if you support two men buggering each 
other, you don't answer, "Sure, I love the 
idea." But most Americans vant for gays 
and lesbians the rights and freedoms 
that everyone else has. They support 


62 gays because so many have had the 


courage to come out of the closet. Most 
people know someone who is gay—some- 
one in their family, in their neighbor- 
hood, at work. It's hard to hate people 
you love, unless you're Dick Cheney, 
who has a lesbian daughter yet continues 
to carry out an antigay agenda. There 
are exceptions to every rule. 

PLAYBOY: Meanwhile the president, by 
supporting a constitutional amendment 
that would ban gay marriage, will try to 
use it asa wedge issue. 

MOORE: And it will backfire. Don't forget 
that I million gays and lesbians voted for 
George W. Bush in 2000. Why would 
they? But they did. Now he comes out 
against them, tries to change the consti- 
tution to discriminate against them. What 
do those | million voters think about their 
man? I predict that he just lost a million 
votes. Bush hasn't gained any votes by 
attacking gays. People who agree with 
Bush aren't ever going to vote for the 
other side anyway. The religious right 
may be whipped into a frenzy by gay 
marriage, but they're already voting for 
Bush. Meanwhile the rest of America has 
come around. That excludes the Bush- 


The NRA is a radical, 
freaky group. They, like the 
Bush administration, are 
the extreme, even opposing 
ballistics fingerprinting. 
They're lunatics. 


Cheney-Rumsfeld-Ashcroft axis, which is 
completely out of step with most Ameri- 
cans. They are freaks. If the American 
people only knew just how crazy they are. 
PLAYBOY: Some people hold that you're 
the one who is out of touch. 

MOORE: With what? Let's consider other 
issues. Americans want stronger envi- 
ronmental laws, believe a woman has a 
right to control her own body, do not. 
want our sons and daughters dying so 
that the president's cronies at Hallibur- 
ton or Enron or Unocal can make bil- 
lions more in profits. 

PLAYBOY: How about gun control, the 
subject of Bowling for Columbine? 

MOORE: The majority of Americans want 
stronger gun laws, justas 1 do. As long as 
the Democrats promise hunters that their 
hunting guns—which are not the prob- 
lem—won't be taken away, even the ma- 
jority of gun owners support controls. 
PLAYBOY: Not the NRA. 

MOORE: The NRA is a radical, freaky 
group. They, like the Bush administra- 
tion, are the extreme, even opposing bal- 
listics fingerprinting. They're lunatics. 
Forget about whether you're liberal or 
conservative, Democrat or Republican. 


What sane person would say no, there 
shouldn't be ballistics fingerprinting? We 
shouldn't be able to identify a sniper or 
an assassin or a murderer? 

PLAYBOY: Arc you still an NRA member? 
MOORE: I am, but I think they're trying 
to excommunicate me. 

PLAYBOY: How can you be a member of 
an organization with which you so 
strongly disagree? 

moore: I became a member as a kid, 
when the NRA was a gun-safety organi- 
zation. It taught you how to fire a gun 
and bird hunt. Then it got taken over by 
people with a radical-right agenda. 
PLAYBOY: You were cri ed for embar- 
rassing former NRA president Charlton 
Heston in Bowling for Columbine. Some 
viewers felt you took advantage of an 


take exception to that. I was 
very respectful. 

PLAYBOY: Heston looked ridiculous. He 
was frail and flustered. 

MOORE: He was opposing gun controls in 
the afiermath of high school shootings. 
That made him fair game. All I did was 
ask some questions. He said the problem 
with America is our mixed ethnicity. He 
said he was proud of the white guys who 
founded the country. I was stunned. I 
was respectful when I asked the ques- 
tions, but at the same time, how am I 
supposed to treat someone who, after 
leaving my interview, went back out 
campaigning for laws that would allow 
people to have Uzis and cop-killer bul- 
lets? Once again, most Americans are 
with me on this. They understand that 
duck hunters don’t need Uzis and cop- 
killer bullets. 

PLAYBOY: Yet they mostly support Bush. 

MOORE: They wouldn't if the media did 
their job. If they did, there would be no. 
question that Bush would lose. If Ameri- 
cans knew the truth about this adminis- 
tration, they would be calling for blood. 
PLAYBOY: What don't we know? 

MOORE: Do most Americans think it's all 
right that John Ashcroft never allowed 
the FBI to look into the gun background- 
check files of the 19 terrorists who mur- 
dered 3,000 people, because it would 
violate the terrorists’ Second Amendment 
rights? If Americans understood this, 
they might be a little upset. Where are 
today’s Woodward and Bernstein? Who is 
investigating this? Who is investigating 
the connection over the past 25 years 
between the Bin.Laden and Bush fami- 
lies? When a journalist does investigate it, 
such as in the book House of Bush, House 
of Saud, where are the banner headlines? 
If you tell Americans the Bushes have 
been in business with the Bin Ladens for 
years, they think you're a lunatic. But 
then, why would Bush allow a Saudi jet 
to fly around the country to pick up all 
the Bin Ladens—relatives of the number 
one suspect in a mass killing—so they 
could get out of the country the week af- 
ter 9/11? Who is investigating this? 


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PLAYBOY: Richard Clarke discussed this at 
the congressional hearings. 

MOORE: And yet where are the head- 
lines? Why hasn't the administration 
been forced to answer for this? Planes 
throughout America were grounded 
and none of us could fly after September 
11. But the Bush administration gave 
permission for private Saudi jets to fly 
around America and pick up 24 mem- 
bers and associates of the Bin Laden 
family in four or five cities. Up to 140 
members of the Saudi royal family and 
other Saudi officials who were in the 
country at the time also got picked up 
and taken out of the country when no 
one else could fly. You couldn't fly in 
America on September 12 or 13 unless 
your name was Bin Laden. The White 
House approved it. Why? 

PLAYBOY: Whar's your theory about the 
lack of attention to these revelations? 
MOORE: The Saudi PR machine is power- 
ful and effective. Craig Unger, whom 1 
interviewed for my film, wrote House of 
Bush, House of Saud. The publisher has 
pulled the book in Britain for fear of 
being sued. The Saudis go after you. I've 
already received threatening letters from 
Saudi billionaires because of my film. 
The administration has not been forced 
to answer these questions, but I'm 
convinced it will have to. The Watergate 
burglaries were not taken seriously at 
first—it was a small item in the back 
pages of the newspaper. There's so much 
here. Cheney doesn't want to reveal the 
minutes of his so-called energy task force 
during the transition when Bush took 
over. He won't even release the names of 
the people who were there. Why? Here's 
my prediction: If the information were 
released, we would learn there was a con- 
versation about how to make nice with 
the Taliban. Why? Because Unocal and 
other companies wanted to build a nat- 
ural gas pipeline through Afghanistan 
from the Caspian Sea region, While Bush 
was governor, members of the Taliban 
traveled to Texas to meet with oil and gas 
executives about the pipeline. So get this: 
Back in 2001 we were negotiating with a 
regime that was providing a base for the 
very people who were about to kill 3,000 
Americans. We wanted to see if we could 
work with them to help Bush's oil and en- 
ergy buddies. If Americans understood 
this, they might be a little pissed off. 
PLAYBOY: Your critics say this is the sort of 
irresponsible speculation for which you 
are famous. 

MOORE: In my book I provide the 
sources, which include The New York 
Times, the BBC and the Washington Post, 
among others. If there’s nothing here, 
let the administration explain. It's not 
speculation that the Bushes were in busi- 
ness with the Bin Laden family. It's not 
speculation that Saudi jets picked up 
members of the Bin Laden family. I want 
Americans to know the truth. 


PLAYBOY: Originally you supported Wes- 
ley Clark to be the Democratic candi- 
date. Why did he do so poorly? 

MOORE: He just isn't a politician. He 
doesn't know how to lie. He couldn't 
pull it off. 

PLAYBOY: Were you surprised when 
Howard Dean self-destructed? 

MOORE: No, because I had met him. My 
wife and I went to meet him with the 
idea of supporting him. We brought our 
checkbook. But we weren't in the room 
with him five minutes when we thought, 
Geez, this guy is kind of a prick. We didn't 
write the check. I was not surprised the 
night of the Iowa caucus. He had spent 
the better part of two years in Iowa, let- 
ting people meet him. To meet him is to 
be turned off by him, so I wasn't sur- 
prised that he lost. The concept of Dean 
was incredible. The movement behind 
him was a revolution. It was exciting to 
see, but Dean imploding was no surprise. 
PLAYBOY: What's your view of John Kerry? 
MOORE: Kerry has done a lot of good 
things. I have great admiration for him for 
what he did when he came back from the 
Vietnam war. His whole testimony to Con- 
gress against the war was on C-Span last 
week. It was very powerful. He's really 
good on many of the issues, but he voted 
for the war and for the Patriot Act. I'm 
hoping he has genuinely changed. If he 
has, I'm willing to forgive those votes. I 
want to hear his plan to get us out of Iraq. 
PLAYBOY: What if he doesn't present one? 
MOORE: ГИ still vote for him, because we 
have to get Bush out. 

PLAYBOY: So you're willing to vote for the 
lesser of two evils? 

MOORE: It would be the evil of two lessers. 
1 have not come out and endorsed Kerry 
as we speak here tonight because I can't 
get past the fact that he voted for the war 
and the Patriot Act. But he didn't vote 
for Bush's $87 billion to continue fund- 
ing the war. And I'm a big believer in 
redemption and forgiveness. I had no 
problem that Clark voted for Reagan, 
accepting that he had changed his mind. 
People are allowed to change. If Kerry 
has, I'll support him with enormous con- 
viction. If he hasn't, then we still have to 
vote for him to remove Bush, but we 
must do so with our eyes wide open. As 
of this interview, he hasn't put forth a 
plan to bring the troops home and end 
this war and the occupation and try to do 
good by the Iraqi people after the mess 
we've created. So we'll see. 

PLAYBOY: You suggested in Stupid White 
Men that Oprah be president. Surely you 
weren't serious. 

MOORE: I was half serious at least, be- 
cause clearly the people, when given a 
chance to vote outside the box, will do 
so. They voted for Arnold Schwarz- 
enegger in California. Before him they 
voted for Jesse Ventura and Ross Perot, 
until he became a certified cuckoo. The 
Democrats need to start thinking like the 


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Republicans. Who is our Reagan? Who 
is our Schwarzenegger? Oprah would be 
a perfect president. She's got good poli- 
tics. She’s got a good heart. She'll have 
us up Jazzercising at six in the morning 
and reading books. How can that be bad 
for the country? How about Tom Hanks? 
Paul Newman? Why do liberals turn up 
their noses at obvious victories? Do they 
get something from losing, from suffer- 
ing? We'd rather lose than have an actor. 
Fine, but meanwhile the Republicans 
will do whatever it takes. 

PLAYBOY: How about Hillary Clinton, 
whom you once called—and this time we 
quote—“one hot shit-kicking feminist 
babe”? Were you serious? 

MOORE: My feelings about her politically 
are clouded by my feelings for her. I've 
always been attracted to her. 

PLAYBOY: Attracted to what parts of her? 
MOORE: All of them. An anti-Hillary web- 
site has some jokes on it; one is "Did you 
hearabout the Hillary combo at KFC? It's 
got two small breasts, two large thighs and 
two left wings." I read that and thought, 
That's supposed to slam her? That sounds 
like nirvana to me. Hillary is not uptight 
at all. She's got a great sense of humor. 
She's got the best laugh. She's feisty. I 
like women who are strong and smart. 
PLAYBOY: Still, even some of your most 
die-hard fans might wonder about a 
crush on Hillary Clinton. 

MOORE: Listen, Hillary Clinton has stood 
her ground. She doesn’t back down. 
From a distance she appears to be a won- 
derful mother who did an extraordinary 
job raising a child in difficult circum- 
stances. You didn't read about Chelsea 
the way you've read about the Bush 
twins, which is not to knock the twins. 
I'm a big supporter of the Bush girls. I 
like that they give Dad a horrible time 
and remind him of his own errant 
youth. He said when he ran that they 
told him, *Don't run." He of course ig- 
nored them, unfortunately. 

PLAYBOY: How do you rate the president. 
as a family man? 

MOORE: Have you noticed that his wife 
spends a lot of time in Crawford? She's 
not at the White House a lot. But hey, 
that's their personal life, and I don't 
want to know about it, which is a big dif- 
ference about people on our side of the 
political fence. We don't want to go in- 
side people's bedrooms. The exception 
would be if they had an abortion or 
helped pay for an abortion and then 
voted against abortion. Then people 
have a right to know. 

PLAYBOY: Ralph Nader is running again. 
Last election you supported him. 
MOORE: [Groans] I know, I tried to talk 
him out of it. I don't know what to say. 
He apparently has promised that he will 
not run in the swing states and will not 
attack Kerry, but he said that last time 
about the swing states and Gore. The 


66 best way for Kerry to deal with Nader is 


to move to the left. If he moves to the 
right, he'll alienate more people and 
they may go to Nader, as irrational as 
that may be. I think Kerry can win. 
I think we'll have onc of the highest 
turnouts if Kerry chooses to inspire peo- 
ple instead of bore them 

PLAYBOY: Does he have it in him? 

MOORE: Yes, he does. Watch the footage of 
him testifying before Congress after Viet- 
nam. Watch him throw his medals on the 
Capitol steps. He absolutely has it in him. 
PLAYBOY: What specifically worries you 
about four more years of Bush? 

MOORE: Four more years means the next 
40 years will be ruled by the right. They 
have a plan called a permanent Republi- 
can-controlled country. It’s essentially in 
place now that they have the House, Sen- 
ate, White House, Supreme Court and a 
majority of governorships. The Republi- 
cans are operating on two main tracks. 
One is to reduce the personal freedoms 
and liberties of the average citizen. The 
other is to line the pockets of corporate 
America, not only helping with tax 
breaks and making it even wealthier but 
essentially being its partner, a co-govern- 


The thought of anyone enjoy- 
ing sex sends Republicans 
into a tailspin. And Clinton 
was particularly horrific 
to them. He got all the babes. 
It drove them crazy. 


ing body of America. The business com- 
munity—Wall Street—is where the real 
power is. When I listen to right-wing talk 
radio I think, Why are they so angry? 
‘They've got it all. They govern. 

PLAYBOY: Is Bush smarter than the left 
gives him credit for? 

MOORE: He is not a very bright man. Like 
a lot of people who aren't very bright, he 
knows that the best way to get ahead is to 
be around smart people. That's survival 
instinct, not brains. Bush has his lines 
down. If you've traveled with him at all, 
if you've ever gone on a campaign with 
him as I did back in 2000, you've seen 
something really freaky. Every politician 
has a basic stump speech, but he not only 
had the same speech but the same man- 
nerisms, the little mistakes, the little guf- 
faws, the things you insert between the 
words or during the applause. Almost a 
windup-doll sort of performance—really 
scary. How does the president's intelli- 
gence, or lack of it, play out? When the 
plane hit the first World Trade Center 
tower a lot of people thought it was an 
accident. People didn’t automatically 
think terrorism. But if you're the presi- 
dent of the United States, wouldn't your 


mind immediately go, Hmm, a plane has 
run into the only building in America 
ever attacked by loreigners in an act of 
terrorism. This could well be another 
attack. Maybe I had better get on this. 
Bush didn't. He continued to sit for 
another 10 minutes reading My Pet Goat 
to the kids in some classroom before he 


telligent and engaged, 
you have a better chance of being pro- 
tected. The reports from the Bush 
administration that have come out, 
whether from Clarke or others, are all 
testimony to the fact that the president 
was totally disengaged and that he rev- 
eled in being disengaged. 
PLAYBOY: How about those around Bush? 
moore: What scares me is that Ashcroft, 
Rumsfeld and many others in the inner 
circle are motivated by a sick combina- 
tion of religious fundamentalism and cor- 
porate greed. In fact, their fundamental 
religion is corporate greed. It scares me 
because religion genuinely helps explain 
to them a world they don't understand. 
For example, they're personally revolted 
by gay sex. and their religion says it's 
okay to be revolted by it: God's disgusted 
by it. Somebody should let them in on 
the fact that God actually isn't disgusted 
by it. If he created everything, he created 
gay sex. God's probably up there enjoy- 
ing it right now. I mean, he's enjoying 
watching everyone. I'm not suggesting 
God is gay. They may believe in some 
fundamentalist sort of way that abortion 
is wrong, but most of all they hate the 
idea of women having control. It's threat- 
ening to guys who have been losers since 
high school. Women deciding if they 
want to have sex and not pay a price for 
it? That whips them into a frenzy, and 
religion becomes their solace. The prob- 
lem for the rest of us is that zealots vote, 
and 50 percent of the rest of the country 
doesn't vote. Who else is left? The poor 
don’t vote as much as the rich do. Young 
people don't vote as much as older peo- 
ple do. The ironic thing is that people 
who feel they don't have power, and thus 
don't vote, don’t have power—they give 
up their power to those who vote. The 
head of GM has the same number of 
votes as you or I. And there are more of 
us than there are of him. When we get 
that through our thick skulls it’s going 
to be a better country. 
PLAYBOY: Are you discouraged that more 
leaders aren't mobilizing the left? 
MOORE: More will emerge. The big move- 
ment is on the Internet. Groups like 
MoveOn.org are where it's at. They've 
gotten more people to protests against 
the war than anything that ever hap- 
pened during Vietnam. There are also 
musicians such as REM, Eddie Vedder 
and Lenny Kravitz. One difference now is 
that some of the leaders are from the 
(continued on page 162) 


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THE 


LA CONTE 


A tale of terror and survival in the Gulf of Alaska 


January 30, 1998, BY TODD LEWAN 
Fairweather Grounds, 
Alaska, 80 miles offshore 


It was rough work setting 
out the big string. They had 
five miles of longline to bait 
hook by hook before letting 
it slip into the building seas. 
The swells made it hard for 
the crew to hold their foot- 
ing, even inside the bait shed. 
David Hanlon did nor look 
good. His face had gone as 
pale as scraped bone. At 
times he dropped the line he 
was working on and ran out- 
side to be sick. 

Now the waves came arch- 
ing over the bow rail, thud- 
ding on the deck with a hard, 
white burst and leaving a 
broth that froze their legs up 
to their thighs. In the larger 
swells the fantail lifted clear 
of the water and they heard 
the unsettling screech of the 
driveshaft and felt the breath- 
stopping emptiness of sudden 
weightlessness. Each second 
they spent weightless was a 
second lost for setting gear, 
but they managed to get the 
entire main line out, 

Once it was out the skip- 
per, Mark Morley, said to his 
deckhand, Gig Mork, “Okay, 
let that sucker fish for an 
hour but no longer.” 

“All right.” 

“I'm whipped. Take the 
helm for me.” 

y looped around the 
ing the orange mark- 
er buoys, riding in the belly of 
18-foot swells. Mork would 
point the La Conte’s nose into 


PHOTO ILLUSTRATION BY MATT MAHURIN 


the oncoming waves, 
then swing the boat 
around and follow the 
seas. Hanlon didn't leave 
the bait shed except to be 
sick, and Bob Doyle and 
Mike DeCapua took care 
of clearing the decks and 
lashing down the pallets 
and buckets. Every so 
often Doyle felt his gaze 
drawn to the ocean 
building around them. 
After a miserable 


stretch of fishing that hadn't even paid | 


for their bait and fuel, the five-man crew 
of the La Conte, a leaky 79-year-old 
wooden schooner, had taken one last run 
to the Fairweather Grounds. Morley, a 
novice skipper who was 11 days shy of 
his 36th birthday, knew bad weather was 
coming. But he also knew fish could be 


found on the shoals, and his instincts | 
proved right. For 18 hours their long- | 


lines had a fish on every hook: yellow- 
eye, lingcod, calico, halibut, even sand 
shark. It was an incredible haul, one that 
would bring a big profit in port. 

More was at stake than money, 
though. This catch was a chance for 
these five men to turn their troubled 
lives around. Morley and his 41-year- 
old line coiler, DeCapua, were ex-cons; 
Doyle, 39, drummed out of the Coast 
Guard for heavy drinking after losing 


his wife and children to a fellow Coastie, | 


hadn't scen a paycheck in three month 
Mork, 39, was a big drinker on land 


more so, people said, after his brothei 


suicide; and Hanlon, 47, a quiet Tlingit | 


fisherman with a bad back and few 
prospects, was fighting to stay sober and 
get even with his medical bills. 

And now, just as they finished setting 
their longest string of hooks, a storm 
was coming. 


Around rwo PM. the skipper came down 
to the foredeck to man the winch. He 
shouted to DeCapua through the shriek- 
ing wind, “Storm’s coming fast." 


DeCapua shouted back, “No kidding." 


Just then a terrific wave rose off the | 


bow. It towered over the rail like a huge 

cak, hanging there for a second, then fell 
| forward in a roar that made the deck roll 
under their knees. Morley crumpled 
under it, and for the longest moment 
Doyle lost sight of him. Then he saw the 
skippers burly back lifting through the 
foamy water. 

Doyle sloshed his way over to the 
skipper and steadied him by the elbow. 

“You okay?” 

Morley could only nod, pull off his 
glasses and wipe the brine from his eyes. 

Rushing, they hauled up the last 10 
lines without a hitch and brought on sev- 
| eral hundred more pounds of yelloweye. 

Now hail was mixing with sheets of rain, 

the wind slinging it all into their faces. 
| When DeCapua had wrapped up his 
last line he took a moment to look out 
over the port rail. The barrels of the 


house. What startled him, though, was 
the dark line stretching along the length 
| ofthe western horizon. 
| "Skipper!" DeCapua stumbled over 
to Morley and grabbed his arm. “Hey!” 
Morley, who was sweeping fish into the 
holds, did not look up. 
“We got to get out of here," DeCapua 
shouted. He pointed to the horizon. The 
| black line was now twice as thick. “Man, 
in Alaska, if you see a line like that out 
| there you get the fuck off the water." 
Morley leaned over and grabbed a yel- 
| loweye by the gills. 


waves were big enough to swallow a | 


“Hey!” DeCapua snapped. “Listen to | 


me. I ain't shitting you. 
That line is going to be 
on us in an hour." 

They left che catch out 
on the foredeck, dogged 
down the aft hatches 
and secured the fuel 
jugs, lockboxes, gaffs 
and batteries. They 
shined a flash into the 
bilges. The water was 
six inches below the 
base of the engine. Even 
with the two bilge 
pumps and the backup-generator 
pump running ar full tilt, it took more 
than 10 minutes to clear it. 


By six пм. the seas were twice as high as 
the ship. They rose in huge dark walls 
now, their faces nearly vertical. The boat 
was no longer clearing the tops of the 
swells; it was punching through the 
crests and launching out their far sid 
The lights dimmed and then quit. 
computer went blank. Yellow emer- 
gency lights flickered on. 

“Shit,” Mork said. “The fucking lap- 
top's out." He turned to Doyle. “We're 
not getting any juice. Go down below 
and find out what's doing it. 

In the galley DeCapua was putting on 
his rain gear. 

“C'mon,” Doyle said. “The computer 
just went out. Gig thinks it's the 
generator." 

“Glorious.” 

They timed the waves battering the 
hull, broke from behind the door and, 
heads bent and legs plunging, dashed to 
the stern. They knelt beside the hatch, 
and DeCapua yanked it open. Doyle took 
one step down the ladder and froze. 

“Oh God." 

The bortom step of the ladder was 
underwater, along with the gencrator 
pump and both bilge pumps. Warer 
was rolling back and forth across the 
engine room. 

“Mama mia,” DeCapua said. 

“Ger the skipper,” Doyle said, his 


voice cracking. 

Morley came running along the side 
of the boat. He threw himself down on 
the rolling deck. He'd been on the 
radio putting out a Mayday while the 
others formed a bucket brigade. Doyle 
looked up. 

“Any luck?" 

“Who knows?" Morley answered. “I 
couldn't hear anybody." He lowered his 
voice. “I did set off the EPIRB, though." 

“Which one?” 

They had two emergency position 
indicating radio beacons: One was a 
406-megahertz model, the other а 121.5. 
The 121.5 sat in a holster in the wheel 
house, attached го a 50- оог line; the 406 
was handheld and emitted a stronger, 
more precise satellite signal. Both had a. 
manual switch and a saltwater trigger. 

“The 121.” 

“What did you do with the 4062” 

“Right here." Morley pulled it out of | 
his rain jacket. It was the size and shape 
of a bowling pin. 

Belowdeck the La Conte was filling 
fast with water. Each time it keeled and 
the water rolled in its belly, the ship lost 
more of its center of gravity. 

Doyle bailed and bailed until he could 
feel his joints crack. The engine went on 
thrumming. This boat isn't quitting easy, 
Doyle thought. He was taking an empty 
bucket from DeCapua when he heard a 
sickening, gurgling, gag. 

He wheeled around and gazed at the | 
engine. 

“Holy Mary.” 

“Fuck me,” DeCapua said. 

They could only stand there, the two 
of them. The boat’s | 
heartbeat had stopped. 
The engine was dead. All 
they heard now wás the 
maddening high-pitched 
moan of wind in the rig- 
ging outside. 


After putting on their 
survival suits the five 
men regrouped on the 
foredeck. Morley had 
given the 406 beacon to 
Hanlon. The ship was 
lurching, listing so hard 
to starboard that at 
times the mast dipped 
into the waves. 


white flash from the 406 blinded them. 
Doyle climbed the stecl ladder to the 
top of the pilothouse to get some buoys 


to help them float in the water. The La | 


Conte had no life raft, he knew, though 
by law it should have had one. The ship 
was rolling and twisting under the 
combers as though in agony but refusing 
to go under. She's some boat, Doyle 
thought to himself. But she won't last 
much longer—10 minutes, if that. 

He saw the 121.5 still flashing in its 
holster inside the pilothouse. “I'm going 
to get that other EPIRB!" he shouted. 
“Get everyone tied together. 


He climbed the ladder, threw open the | 


side door, grabbed the beacon and slid 
back down to the deck. The others were 
passing the rope, tying it around their 


| “Listen!” Morley shouted, holding his 
hands cupped. “As soon as I say go, we 
| all go in together.” 

Doyle looked over his shoulder. The 
| ocean was so dark he could nor rell 
the difference between a wave crest 
| and a trough. 

“Everybody ready?” 
| They could fall 15 feet or 100. 

“One!” 

They could jump in front of a 
breaking wave and be smashed against. 
| the hull. 
| “Two!” 
| The ship was tipping, starting to roll. 
“Now!” 
Into the abyss they leaped. 


waist and handing it off го the next man. | 


Hanlon was on one end; Doyle got on | 


the other. 


“Okay, listen up!" the skipper shouted. | 


“We jump when I tell you guys to jump. 
Where's that 1212” 
Just as Doyle raised the beacon, a cable 


snapped overhead and cracked on the | 


deck not five feet behind him. He 
whirled, and as he did a wave surged 


over the bow and swept the EPIRB out | 


of his hands and clean over the gunwale. 

“Oh shit! [lost it! 1 lost rhe EPIRB!” 

With only one beacon now they 
lined up, crouching, backs to the sea, 
and held fast to the rail. Half the deck 
was underwater. 

Doyle looked over at the pilothouse. 
The emergency lights were still on. He 
turned and saw Hanlon clutching the re- 
maining EPIRB to his chest, his eyes shut. 


At first all Doyle felt was the cold. It was 
a vicious cold that had alrcady begun 
deadening his toes, working its way up 
| into his calves and setting in under his 
knees, a cold that numbed his spine and 
tightened on his temples like a vise. He 
felt wrapped in darkness, twirling, 
| falling without end. Then he felt a heavy 
weight on his chest, and it occurred to 
him thar he might drown. He began 
kicking his legs and fighting the water in 
a heavy-footed panic. Where in God's 
name am 12 It horrified him to think he 
could be swimming toward the bottom 
of the ocean. Something was tugging 
sharply at his neck. It tugged and 
tugged, and soon he could not fight it 
anymore. In that instant he burst 
through the surface. 

| He knew it because of the noise. There 


FIVE MEN, THREE CHOPPERS, SEVEN HOURS LOST IN A RAGING SEA 


TO YAKUTAT 


AE ) 


Е 2:52 a.m.: Thethird chopper, 
Rescue 601, arrives on the scene 
to find rogue waves over 100 feet 
high, killer downdrafts, snow and 
hal. The extreme wedlher threatens 
the helicopler crew, but the pilots 
stabilize the aircraft and begin the 
тезше. Within an hour the first 
survivor is in the rescue basket. 


sfr om 
[m 


*Dave," DeCapua 
shouted, “where's that 
fucking line?” Hanlon 
held up a roll of threc- 
quarter-inch nylon rope 
he'd grabbed from the 
bait shed. 

Doyle leaned close to 
Morley and said, "Trig- 
ger that other EPIRB.” 

At once a powerful 


This article Is ә 
ast Run, 
to be published 


idapted from The 
©2004 by Todd Lewan, 
by HarperCollins. 


E112:49 a.m., Saturday, 
January 31: Rescue 6029 is 
forced to bail; the survivors have 
been in the water nearly six hours, 
and one man is now lost. Tossed 
‚about in icy 70-foot seas with rogue. 
waves, they watch the second 
chopper peel away into the storm. 


чагу 30: Anurgent distress sig- 
y] nal is relayed by COSPAS-SARSAT 
satellite to Juneau, Alaske. Loca- 


tude 130707 E west. Around that 
time all five crewmen of the La 
Conte are forced to ditch their 
sinking ship in 38-degree water. 


Е В p.m.: Rescue 6018, а Coast 
Guard H-60 Jayhawk helicopter, 
heads 150 miles offshore into 110 
mph winds, snow, hail and white- 
oulcordiliors. After a dozen basket 
drops and low on fuel, itis forced to 
turn back. At 9:34 a second chop- 
per, Rescue 6029, takes off, The 
survivors have been in the freezing 
water two and a half hours, 


Sitka 


DROWN 


ANOTHER DAY 


WHAT TO DO (AND NOT TO DO) 
TO SURVIVE IF YOU’RE PITCHED 
INTO THE DRINK 


TROUBLED WATER 


Your car skids off a bridge and plunges into 


water. The doors won't budge because the 


water pressure holds them shut. 


“There is a myth that you 
should wait, breathing from an air pocket, 
until the vehicle is submerged and the 
pressure on the doors has equalized,” says 
Nancy Rigg, a drowning-prevention consul- 
tant. “This may prove fatal, since most cars 
sink engine-first.” So get out while the car 
is still floating. Fortunately, electric win- 
dows sometimes work in water. Use them, 
If they don’t work, lie across the front seats 
and kick out the side window. 


ICE ESCAPE 


You fall through a frozen lake, you're losing 
body heat, and you're having a tough time 
lifting yourself out of the frigid water. 


" "The first thing you should 
do is cover your mouth to avoid aspirating 
water when you involuntarily gasp from the 
cold," explains Gerald Dworkin, an aquatic- 
safety consultant with Lifesaving Re- 
sources. Resist the impulse to kick off your 
heavy wet pants—even soaked, they insu- 
late you. Reach into your pocket and grab. 
your keys. Use them to grip the ice as you 
gently propel yourself with your legs. 


HOPE FLORTS 


Your boat capsizes or sinks. Even if you can. 
see land, hypothermia and exhaustion will 
likely set in before you can swim to it. 


+] г "Your best bet is to stay 
with the boat. A lot of times you get fatali- 
ties when people try to swim to safety, 
says David Johnson, of California's Depart- 
ment of Boating and Waterways. Instead. 
find some debris from the wreck you can 
use as a flotation device. Then form hug- 
ging circles to share body heat with others. 


THE FLYING GAME 


You are in an airplane when it starts 
hurtling toward the sea. It hits the water— 
and you're not in an exit row. 


"Do not use pillows or 
blankets to brace yourself," says Paul Take- 
moto of the FAA. Stay put and count to five, 
allowing the cabin to equalize. Then pull 
rather than swim your way out. The thrash- 
ing motion of swimming will just get you 
tangled up in belts and oxygen tubes. 


was a high, moaning shriek all around, 
and through that noise a thundering, 
avalanche sound. He threw his eyes 


open; they burned from salt. He tried to | 
breathe; saltwater flooded his mouth. | 


He covghed, hacked, gagged. 

Then he was under again. 

Once more there were only the muf- 
fled sounds of bubbles and water being 
thrashed. It felt so calm and pleasant— 
except for the hor pain in his lungs—and 
then he popped back into the world of 
shricking blackness. 


He heard Morley's voice, faint | 


but clear. 
“Sound off! Hey, sound off! Dave?” 
“Here!” 
“Mike? 
ak) 
“Gig?” 
“Here!” 
“Bob?” 
Doyle tried to shout, but his voice was 
not very loud: “Pm here! I'm here!” 
A wave threw them together. He kept 
his eyes open for more than a second 


and, in the blinding flash of the strobe, | 


saw Morley’s face—contorted, lips quiv- 


ering, skin a bluish white. His glasses | 


were gone; his eyes, like those of a 
frightened child, were wide and staring. 

“Bob,” Morlcy said, *how's my 
zipper?" 

Doyle took hold of Morley by the 
shoulder and patted his chest until he 
found the metal tab. He felt the skip- 
per shaking. 

“Your zipper's up.” 

“Shit,” Morley said, "then my suit is 
ripped. | feel water getting in.” 

“Wher 

“In my legs,” Morley said. “My 
right leg. I can feel water getting in. 
God, it’s cold.” 

Spray like buckshot whipped Doyle's 
face. They went back down and came 


voice. 
LN 
He felt weight on his shoulder and 
turned to see Morley clinging to him 
Morley asked, "When will the Coast 
Guard be here, Bob?" 
They probably aren't coming, thought 
Doyle. But he told Morley, “They'll send 


| would reach the crest and then go skid- 


somebody for us." 

“When?” 

“Within che hour." 

The seas would not stop jumping up 
and down. Sometimes a wave would 
break on top of them. Other times they 


ding and tumbling down the back side 
of the swell into a cauldron of spray 
and foam. 

“Bob!” 

Morley had been dragging behind and 
swallowing water. Doyle spun, grabbed 
the skipper by the waist and lifted him 


| onto his chest. He put a hand over Mor- 


[суз mouth to shield it from the flying 
sleet and spray. 

“Breathe,” he said. “That's the way. 
Good. I'm here, Mark. I'm here.” 

Morley coughed and hacked 

“You all right?" Doyle asked. 

“I'm cold, man. I'm so cold. Are the 
Coasties coming, Bob?” 

“Sure,” Doyle told him. “On their 
way. 

I'm so cold.” 

“How are your legs?” 

“Heavy. I can hardly feel them.” 

So, Doyle said ro himself, it's already 
started. And how long have we been in 
the water? Ten minutes? He put his arm 
around Morley's broad back, pulled him 
up a bit and leaned at an angle so that 
they floated together. 

“Bob? 

“Yeah?” 

“I hope those Coasties get here soon.” 


o 


At that moment, 3,000 miles away, out- 
side Washington, D.C., a computer 
inside the U.S. Mission Control Center 
was downloading ari EPIRB signal from 
a COSPAS-SARSAT satellite. It was an 
urgent distress signal from the Gulf of 
Alaska, latitude 58°15.5' north, longi- 
tude 138°07.8' west. Automatically the 
computer relayed the data to the sta- 
tion closest to the emergency—the 17th 
Coast Guard District headquarters, in 
Juneau, Alaska. 

It was 7:02 Р.М. on a Friday, and Lieu- 
tenant Steve Ruiz was sitting at his desk 
at the Rescue Coordination Center when 
he heard the — (continued on page 82) 


er 


"This was just an appetizer. If you want more you have to marry me.” 


on't call them wife swappers. They 
hate that because it’s not what they 


are. In the swinging community — 
insiders know it as "the lifestyle" —the 
women are in charge. They decide who 
will get laid and how. They show off 
their bodies, lick, suck, kiss and tell. They 
don't take offense to anything except a 
hand placed without permission. They 
say no if they must—or, as often, yes— 
and everyone moves on. They insist on 
condoms, at least with strangers, which 
is why bowls of them are everywhere. 
We spent a sex-filled weekend at the 
Lifestyles Convention, during which 
2,500 couples (participants must be part 
of a couple) take over a Vegas hotel to 
cat, sunbathe, gamble, dance, attend 
seminars, buy sex toys and fuck, watch 
other people fuck or both. While PLAYBOY 
was in town, the women also posed. Like 
any community, the lifestyle has its hip- 
sters, old guard, wallflowers and rowdies. 
We met them all in search of uncom- 
mon beauty. Along the way we had a few 
laughs. One thing you can say about 
women who swing: They have a good 
time, even with their panties on. This 
year's event—conventions are also held 
in Acapulco and Miami—begins July 7. 


For more swingers, visit cyber playboy.com. 


IME 


At a convention of swingers, we 
pulled aside seven beauties to ask 
them why one man isn't enough— 
and to get directions to the orgy 


Photography by George Georgiou 


<MINDY VEGA, 29 “My husband 
always told me he would love to 
see me with another woman. | 
liked the idea of watching and 
being watched, but 1 wasn't sure 
about the girl thing. So we started 
reading more about the lifestyle at 
swinger sites. | had thought that 
swinging was disgusting—that 
they just had big orgies—but we 
learned that there are all kinds 
of levels, including what we do, 
which is soft swinging. That's fore- 
play only—touching and oral sex 
but no intercourse, and always 
together and in the same room. 
Those are the rules we follow, and 
it's safer when it comes to STDs. 
We found a lot of young couples 
online, so we started answering 
ads and interviewing people. We 
chose a couple we liked and met 
them at a club and danced and 
had a great time. Then we went 
back to their place, and the wife 
started touching me while the guys 
watched. The guys joined us, and it 
all fell into place; there were hands 
everywhere. It’s still my favorite 
encounter because it was my first. 
Today we meet people at swing 
clubs or online, but my rule is that 
the other couple has to be happily 
married or we don't get involved. 
Too many couples get into the life- 
style because they think it will save 
a bad marriage. We still go to 
clubs, but we're voyeurs more than 
anything. If something more hap- 
pens, it happens. I live in south 
Florida, where there are a lot of 
parties for younger couples who ex- 
periment. We will take breaks from 
the lifestyle, because we realize 
we're spending every weekend with 
swingers and missing cur vanilla 
friends. I've been in orgies, but 1 
don't like them—there are so many 
people, so someone is always left 
ош, and you really have to concen- 
trate. It's too much work. We're 
open with our friends about what 
we do, and a few have been curious 
and have come to clubs with us.” 


fus 


ESA A 


AANGELIQUE LECLAIR, 33 “By the age of 24 I'd had enough of guys 
being jerks or cheating on me, so 1 started dating women. I loved my 


first girlfriend as much as | had loved any man. But 1 began to miss 
guys, so | decided 1 would have both. I posted an ad online, looking for 
couples. As a young single woman 1 could be picky. | met a couple 
who introduced me to other fun people. Once we һай a core group we 
arranged orgies with five, 10, 15 people—everyone having sex to- 
gether. | began to write down my experiences and post the stories on- 
line, but people asked for photos. | had never photographed myself 
nude, let alone having sex, but I liked how they turned out. At the 
same time | was still searching. 1 wanted a relationship. With my site, 
that became difficult. It hit men like a brick if they found out. Four 
years ago | met a guy in an airport, and he asked me out. He learned 
about my secret life a few weeks later. The swinging is enough to 
throw off most guys, but | also had a website with photos of me suck- 
ing cock! We had a hard time for a year or so, but eventually he met 
my friends and realized they aren't freaks. Six months later | arranged 
his first swinging experience: three women, including me, all to him- 
self. He loved it. Why wouldn't he? We live together now, and we aren't 
looking for anyone new. We have enough friends to keep us busy.” 


> ANNA MILLER, 31 (WITH HUSBAND BRUCE, 36) “When we were dating 
we talked about having a threesome. Bruce knew I thought the college 
guy who liver across the hall was cute, so when we went out drinking 
he asked him, ‘Do you want to have sex with my girlfriend?" The guy got 
all defensive: ‘No, man, no!" But then Bruce explained, and the guy did 
a fast 180. It was fun, no-strings sex. A few weeks later the guy 
introduced his girlfriend, and we swapped. We started looking online 
for other couples, but it took a year to find anyone who clicked. It's hard 
to find couples we both find attractive. Sometimes you'll do a mercy 
fuck for your partner, but it’s not as if I've ever been with a guy I thought 
was ugly—he just wasn't my first choice. The first couple we liked took 
us to a party in Kansas City, which has a big swinger community. We ar- 
rived early and went to the pool, and everyone there was a lot older than 
we were or overweight, so | was ready to bolt. But the younger people 
came later for the dancing, and that night set the pace. Bruce and | swap 
only in the same room—mostly because we don't want to miss anything. 
His favorite position is to have me suck him while someone is having 
sex with me, | prefer group sex because I can come and go as | please. 
If a guy is outlasting me I can say, ‘I think that girl needs attention.’ Many 
guys don't like orgies because they feel so much pressure to perform.” 


«VANILLA DEVILLE, 33 "About five years ago my husband and | went 
out drinking with another couple. My girlfriend was curious about 
being with another woman, so she decided to go for it. When we got 
back to our house for a nightcap, she started kissing me. We made out 
for a while, then took off our tops. Soon we were giving each other 
oral sex. The guys were in awe. After an hour we asked them to get off 
the couch and join us. The next morning my husband and 1 had vicious 
hangovers. We looked at each other and said, "What did we just do?" 
But we'd had fun, and our friends said the same. So we started look- 
ing for more couples. We aren't into sport fucking, when you meet 
someone new every weekend. We prefer friends with benefits. I've 
been to a few orgies, including one with 10 women. But generally 1 
don't enjoy gang bangs; they aren't intimate. My husband and I are 
picky about who we play with, but we don't have many rules once it 
happens. We usually ask the other couple what they like. Some peo- 
ple we've seen at parties don't talk things through before they arrive, 
so you'll walk into the kitchen and say, ‘Your husband is really going 
at it in there!" and realize the woman had no idea and she's upset. | 
don't care that my husband is having fun in another room, but | need 
to know where he is. И you're part of a couple, you can't swing alone.” 


ATONIA REESE, 26 “1 was dating my future husband when he invited me 
to go to Hedonism in Jamaica—then we found out the week before we 
were going to leave that a swingers gathering would be there at the 
same time. | was not happy. 1 thought swingers were people who just 
needed an excuse to cheat. But we ended up going down on each other 
in a hot tub in front of other guests, and | had a great time! When we got 
home we visited clubs and started taking couples home. The first time 
Was a disaster—the other couple got into a huge row because the guy 
couldn't get hard—and eventually we realized that we prefer finding a 
single woman or man. So now we go to bars, and my husband fades into 
the background until a guy tries to pick me up. Then he'll introduce 
himself and say, ‘Oo you want to screw my wife? He's pretty blunt. Some 
guys think we're putting them on, but so far we have a 100 percent suc- 
cess rate. My husband lays out the ground rules, which basically are 
‘When we're done, you're done.’ We still swing with couples, but we 
haven't swapped. It hasn't felt right yet. Usually no one has to say any- 
thing—body language says enough about what people want and don't 
want from you. When you have an open relationship, there is nothing you 
can't ask your partner. You may not always get a yes, but you can still 
ask. For example, | won't do anal, but we found a woman who likes it.” 


<CANDY MDORE, 31 “My husband and I tanta- 
sized for the first four years we were married 
about having a threesome. One evening we went 
to our neighbors to sit in the hot tub. We thought 
they were the most square people we knew— 
but it turned out we didn't know much. I started 
rubbing the woman's thigh, and all four of us 
ended up naked in a big pile. They introduced us 
to other swingers. When we get together with 
friends we do silly things. Once we blindfolded 
the guys and made them sit on the couch and try 
to identity us by fingering our pussies or by how 
we gave oral sex. They claimed they couldn't 
tell. I will swing only with my husband nearby. 
Some couples separate for the night, but that 
would make me jealous. When you're with a new 
person it's like opening a present. People kiss 
differently; they give head differently. My fa- 
vorite thing is to ride my husband while a girl 
licks his shaft and balls and another girl sits on 
his face. It’s a challenge to meet couples you 
both like. 1 took one for the team once, but it 
made me feel like a whore—so never again.” 


>JORDAN JACOBS, 29 "| was into the scene 
when this photo was taken—t loved all those 
hands on me—but | can't say I was ever enthu- 
siastic, and 1 don't swing anymore. One of my 
boyfriends and | talked about my being with an- 
other woman while he watched, but | had never 
given it much thought. The more we discussed 
it, the more curious | became. So we went to a 
swinger site and browsed the ads. We weren't 
interested in swapping, and that eliminated a 
lot of people we met. Few wanted a girls-only 
encounter. We finally met a couple whom we 
found attractive and who agreed to our terms. 
We went back to our place after dinner, and the 
woman kissed me to get things started. There 
was no way 1 would have made the first move; I 
was too nervous. We made out and went down 
on each other while the guys watched. We got 
together again later and had sex with our part- 
пег in the same room. We also went to a few 
parties, but 1 never liked the vibe. Couples fol- 
lowed me around, which made me feel like 
fresh meat. Some were aggressive—they would 
say, ‘We think you're hot. Would you like to get 
together with us?" That's a common line you 
hear at swinger parties. It was all a nice exper- 
iment, but I decided that 1 much prefer men— 
‘one man. Not that | have regrets. | would never 
have known had I not tried it." 


PLAYBOY 


82 


LA CONTE ^mm 


Riding the crest of a rogue wave, they gazed doum 
in horror at the copter's rotor blades below them. 


zipping noise of the SARSAT-dedicated 
printer coming from the control room. 

He ripped off the bulletin and 
scanned it. No ID on the ship. He 
checked the coordinates: Fairweather 
Grounds. He checked the printer 
again. Nothing more. 

The National Weather Service was 
reporting 20-foot seas and 35-knot 
winds across the Gulf of Alaska. If peo- 
ple were in the water, their chances 
weren't good. Water temperatures in 
the gulf were about 38 degrees. In 
water that cold, a 200-pound man in a 
survival suit has an 83 percent chance 
of lasting two and a half hours. After 
that his chances of survival plummet, 
especially if wave heights are over 25 
feet, The higher the seas, the faster a 
person burns body fat and the less time 
it takes for hypothermia to set in. 

At 7:13 p.m. Rutz issued an Urgent 
Marine Information Broadcast. Ships 
were asked to keep a sharp lookout for 
distress, and any ships that had acci- 
dentally tripped an EPIRB were to 
radio the Coast Guard immediately. 
Three minutes passed, then five, then 
10. There was no response. Rutz 
reached for the phone and dialed Air 
Station Sitka, the Coast Guard's emer- 
gency number. 


At eight pM. the Coast Guard launched its 
first H-60 Jayhawk helicopter, Rescue 
6018, into hurricane-force winds, driving 
snou, hail and the most perilous seas an arc- 
tic tempest can whip up. The chopper soon 
lost radio contact with the air station, but it 
pounded onward through the storm until it 
got to the scene. Against 110-mile-an-hour 
winds and downdrafis, Lieutenant Bill 
Adickes, the co-pilot who had taken the con- 
trols, tried to stabilize the helicopter while 
swells crested 20 feet below. His flight me- 
chanic dropped flares and tried to deploy the 
rescue basket into the crashing waves, but 
the 40-pound cage was blown straight back 
toward the tail rotor. The men watched in 
horror, knowing that if it hit the spinning 
blade the Jayhawk would fall into the water 
and sink in seconds. 


Lieutenant Adickes was trying to keep 
a hover of 80 feet above the waves. The 
last three flares were dropped in an arc 
around the survivors. 

On the fifth drop the basket landed 
no more than 15 feet from the sur- 
vivors' strobe. It floated on the surface 


for more than a minute. 

“Why aren't they swimming to the 
basket?” asked Rich Sansone, the res- 
cue swimmer. He shouted out the cab- 
in door, “Swim! Swim!” 

Just then another gust rammed the 
aircraft and sent it hurtling backward. 

“Twenty-five feet from the water!” 
Sansone shouted. “Altitude!” 

Adickes pulled full power and the 
Jayhawk snapped skyward. It shot up 
to 125 feet before Sansone said, “Too 
close.” 

After a minute Adickes dropped the 
helicopter back down. He checked his 
radar altimeter—70 feet. Not too bad, 
he thought. But where are the god- 
damn flares? 

He peered out the windscreen. 

The flares couldn't have gone out, he 
thought. What the hell's going on? 

In the water the survivors saw exact- 
ly what was going on: Bobbing along- 
side the flare, riding the crest of a 
rogue wave that was looming over the 
helicopter, they were gazing down in 
horror at the Jayhawk's rotor blades 
spinning below them. 

In the helicopter the rescue swim- 
mer and the flight mechanic were 
screaming: 

“Up! Up! Up!” 

“Do something!" 

The sea stood over them. It looked 
like a wall. This wave had no curling 
crest, just a thin, silvery sheen. It made 
not a whisper as it moved swiftly and 
stealthily toward them. 

There was a rush of air, and the sea 
collapsed just below the belly of the 
Jayhawk. Spray and foam entered the 
cabin with the force of a power hose, 
but the helicopter wobbled upward. 

"Goddamn it!" Sansone shrieked. 
“That wave missed us by five fucking 
feet!” 

In the raging sea below, the sur- 
vivors were fighting to breathe. The 
wind peeled their eyelids, and the salt- 
water seared their throats. It was com- 
ing so hard at them that they could not 
keep the water out of their stomachs, 
and every few minutes one or another 
of them would retch it back up. 

They bobbed in a circle. The nylon 
rope still held them together, but the 
lifeline was coming loose around their 
waists. When they came to within arm's 
length of one another, they reached 
and clung fast. When they came apart, 
they thrashed madly, calling out to one 
another between gasps. 


After a curler drove them down for 
half a minute Doyle broke the surface 
and shouted, "Where's Dave? Dave!” 

They called out Hanlon’s name but 
got no response. It was like trying to 
shout over a passing train during a 
downpour. Five yards away, glinting in 
the flash of the EPIRB, which had been 
passed to Mork, bobbed an orange 
buoy—the buoy that had been attached 
to Hanlon’s waist. The guy has to be 
attached to it, Doyle thought. 

‘They watched the buoy come closer, 
then swing away, then come closer 
again. 

“Dave, is that you?” 

A wave crashed over them. The buoy 
was still in sight. But even as Doyle 
kicked and thrashed to get to it, the 
buoy kept sliding farther and farther 
away. 

Soon it was out of sight. 


A second Jayhawk, Rescue 6029, took off 
for the Fairweather Grounds at 9:34 p.m. 
By then the survivors had been in the water 
for two and a half hours. Once at the scene 
the 6029 made more than a dozen hoist at- 
tempts. The helicopter kept pitching so wild- 
by, though, that dropping the basket near the 
survivors was like lowering a clothespin into 
a milk bottle from atop a 10-story building. 
After three hours and 15 minutes in the air, 
with no fuel to spare for their return flight to 
Sitka and with winds battering them even 
harder, this rescue crew was also forced to 
abandon the survivors. Before midnight a 
third Jayhawk, 6011, was pulled onto the 
runway and preparing to launch. 


In the cockpit of Rescue 6011, pilot 
Steve Torpey was listening over the 
high-frequency radio to Bill Adickes, in 
the 6018, describe the on-scene condi- 
tions. “Steve,” Adickes said, “it’s like 
nothing you've ever seen before. 

Adickes was returning across Sitka 
Sound, and the radio transmission was 
sharp. “The seas are bad, real bad,” he 
said. “Seventy-foot waves with rogues. 
Watch out for the rogues.” 

“Right.” 

"Dont even think about hovering or 
hoisting from any lower than a hun- 
dred feet. Watch for downdrafis. They 
drove us down right in front of big 
waves. And the winds are extreme. 
They hit you from all sides.” 

“Okay,” Torpey said. 

Captain Ted LeFeuvre, Torpey's co- 
pilot, was listening to the conversation 
through his headset. The roughness in 
Adickes's voice unsettled him. 

“What else can you tell us?” Torpey 
asked. 

“Take lots of flares, as many as you 
can. Get them into the water fast. You'll 

(continued on page 146) 


“Porn actresses are a dime a dozen. What we really need is someone to clean up 
around here after we’re done!” 


84 


PO 


Snake in the grass! 
Ladies’ man! Sex 
fiend! Clovis had 

been a rube, 
but now he was 
unstoppable 


With a master of fine arts 
degree in hand, Clovis Spicer 
left Athens, Georgia for the 
Midwest. Spicer had locked 
down a job at Chicago's pre- 
mier advertising agency. Left 
behind was his girlfriend, Lit- 
tle Olive, who chose to pur- 
sue an advanced degree in 
microbiology. 

Clovis couldn't wait to 
leave the hick town of Ath- 
ens, but in one short day the 
fast pace of Chicago ex- 
hausted him beyond mea- 
sure. People were buzzing 
around like V-I rockets. The 
El trains roared past his room 
at the St. Ingbert Hotel in an 
apocalyptic rumble. While 
window-shopping along 
Michigan Avenue he was as- 
saulted by the incessant hiss 
of tires and police and ambu- 
lance sirens. And then there 
was the incredible sight of a 
doomed twin-engine Cessna 
streaking overhead like a 
kamikaze plane zeroed in on 
the battleship Arizona. It was 
absolutely incredible. He 
even got a clear look at the 
pilot’s face as he plunged 
into the water. The pilot's 
gaze was directed at his lap, 
as though he were reading a 


PAINTING BY FAT ANDREA 


W DER 


THOM JONES 


panel of Jiggs & Maggie from 
the Tribune. Later Clovis real- 
ized the pilot had been 
working at the stick of the 
plane. Clovis saw the pilot's 
head bounce off the wind- 
shield just as he crashed into 
a lake infested with lamprey 
eels. No doubt the pilot was 
sucked dry by those hideous 
creatures even before he had 
the luxury of drowning. Clo- 
vis once saw a picture of a 
lamprey. Its entire head was 
a mouth filled with razor- 
sharp teeth. 

Clovis retreated to his 
roomat the St. Ingbert Hotel, 
a fleabag on the western 
edge of Hyde Park. At two in 
the morning he heard the 
crash of beer bottles against 
a brick wall. Looking out his 
dingy window he saw two 
coal-black men in iridescent 
suits screaming at each 
other in French. "Qu'est-ce 
que vous savez de la poli- 
tique? Rien!" said the first. 

"Je sais que vous étes 
idiot!" screamed the other. 

The verbal assaults esca- 
lated into a pushing, shoving 
match. Seconds later fists 
were flying until the two men 
fell to the ground, wrestling 
in the grime of the alley. It was 
hard for Clovisto tell who was. 
winning. Then a huge thug 
in a guayabera and a short- 
brimmed fedora stepped out 
ofthe back door and grabbed 
both men by their hair. “God- 
damn it, you fuckin’ bastards! 
Clean yourselves off and get 
out of my alley!" 

After the long day's noise, 
the incredible plane crash 
and then this bizarre alley 
fight, Clovis found it impos- 
sible to sleep. Maybe Athens, 
Georgia wasn't so bad after 
all. As the first rays of sun- 
light peeked through his 
window shade, Clovis fell 
into a short coma. 

He showed up at the Booth 
Wicks Agency an hour late. 


85 


PLAYBOY 


86 


Creative director L.L. Hargrove saw 
the new copywriter sheepishly make 
his entrance. Hargrove awaited Clo- 
viss approach with his thick forearms 
crossed and his narrow black eyes fixed 
into a fierce glare. Clovis offered Har- 
grove a tepid hand, after which Har- 
grove said, “Your hand feels like a wet 
90-year-old penis. Come with me.” 
Clovis followed Hargrove to a cubi- 
cle, where Hargrove laid out the in- 
house rules. Hargrove was a frighten- 
ing man in spite of his high voice. 
Clovis was shocked. Hargrove had 
been pleasant and congenial during 
initial interviews; now he was the were- 
wolf of London. In a shrieking con- 
tralto he said, “Dress code 101: Brooks 
Brothers only! Let me repeat that: 
Brooks Brothers only! White shirts 
crisp with starch, changed daily. Bow 
ties are unacceptable. So too are sus- 
penders. I want no aftershave, scented 
facial moisturizers or harsh breath fresh- 
eners. Use toothpaste alone. There will 
be no pierced earrings, ponytails or 
homosexual wrist flopping. Take a look 
around you and you'll get the gist." 
This from a man in a glen-plaid 
gabardine suit and a blue polka-dot 
bow tie, yellow-tinted pince-nez and a 
wrinkled navy blue shirt. "Our health 
plan docs not provide for sex-change 
operations," Hargrove said. "And your 
computer will be monitored for per- 
sonal tomfoolery, including chat rooms 
like Submissive Males Seeking Disci- 
pline. Have you any questions?” 
Clovis swallowed hard. “No, sir.” 
do have questions, see 


“So let's get down to business. You 
come in late again, you will be fired,” 
Hargrove said, pulling open the top 
door of a gray file cabinet. He pro- 
duced two number-seven cans of gar- 
den peas and a can opener. “We have 
here a can each of Dominick's brand 
garden peas and a can of Green Giant 
early spring peas. It's a quarter to 11. I 
want 200 words on the virtues of each 
of these commodities by 11:15. Do you 
think you can manage that?" 

“Yes, sir.” Clovis had his handker- 
chief out and pressed it to his forehead 
and upper lip, blotting beads of sweat. 

^Well, cut loose then. One half hour. 
Time enough to put a little dynamite 
on the page. Set those effeminate fin- 
gers ablazing!" 

Clovis swallowed hard. "Yes, sir." 

He booted up the computer as 
Brandy Becker stepped into the cubi- 
cle and pulled a chair up to Clovis's 
desk. She picked up a can of peas and 
placed it to her ear like a telephone. 

“Mr. Spicer,” she said. “How do?" 

Clovis was harried but lifted the oth- 
er can to his ear anyway. “Hello?” 


Brandy Becker was the most beauti- 
ful woman Clovis had ever seen. He 
studied the long, slender fingers clasp- 
ing the can of Green Giant peas. Her 
nails were cut short and lacquered with 
bloodred polish. Her left hand was de- 
void of a wedding ring, and she wore a 
man's stainless steel Rolex Submariner 
on her left wrist. Brandy was wearing 
the agency uniform for women, a Cal- 
vin Klein navy jacket over a crisp white 
blouse. She had fair skin, warm green 
eyes, full lips lightly glossed with plum 
lipstick—it took Clovis three seconds to 
forget about Little Olive entirely. 

“Hey there, it’s Brandy Becke: 
said, speaking into her pea-can tele- 
phone. “May I speak to Clovis Spicer?” 

“Hello, Brandy. This is Clovis Spicer. 
What can 1 do for you?" 

^] just wanted to tell you that Mr. 
Hargrove is on the warpath today. 
Don't take it seriously. His bark is big- 
ger than his bite." 

"Okay" 

“Don't worry. I'll keep you out of 
trouble. Just don't come waltzing in an 


"I was wondering who you 
reminded me of with that 
high, piping voice of yours, 
the lisp, the timid mum- 
bling—and now Гое got it. 
Michael Jackson!" 


hour late anymore." 

"It will never happen again,” Clovis 
said. 

Brandy winked at the new employee, 
set her can of peas on Clovis's desk and 
stepped into her office across the hall 
toanswer a genuine phone call. 


By 11:30 Clovis was still struggling 
with his 200-word assignment. His 
blood sugar was perilously low, and he 
felt an overwhelming urge to pee. He 
finally worked up the nerve to duck his 
head out of the cubicle, looking left 
and right for Hargrove. The coast was 
clear, and Clovis quickly made for the 
men's room. 

Inside the loo he stood before a uri- 
nal only to find Hargrove in the parti- 
tion next to him. Cloyis felt his penis 
grow cold and shrink down to about 
half an inch. Hargrove said, "How's 
that copy coming along, buddy?" 

“I'm getting there, Mr. Hargrove. 
I'm almost there.” 

The creative director shook his dick 


and hit the flush bar. He quickly washed 
his hands with a squirt of antibacterial 
soap. He held up a pair of thick, square 
hands like a surgeon prepared to glove 
up. The two paper towel dispensers 
were empty. Hargrove shook his fin- 
gers and dried his King Kong hands on 
his pants. Hargrove moved close to the 
new man, violating any reasonable 
sense of personal space. “I was wonder- 
ing who you reminded me of with that 
high, piping voice of yours, the lisp, the 
timid mumbling—all of it,” Hargrove 
said. “And now I've got it. Michael 
Jackson!” Fuck, look who was talking! 

Clovis remained at the urinal. His eyes 
were watering from his full bladder, but 
it took him five minutes after Hargrove 
left before he could relax enough to 
urinate. Clovis was still at his keyboard 
at seven RM. when Brandy made an ap- 
pearance, buttoning up a black cash- 
mere coat. “You're still here,” she said. 

“The Green Giant wears a pair of 
green-leaf go-go boots. I never noticed 
that before.” 

Brandy searched her purse for keys 
and said, “Babe, you look tighter than a 
drum. Go home and take a hot shower.” 

“What say the two of us go out and 
have a few drinks? I could use about 30 
of them.” 

“I'm ina relationship, Clovis. In any 
case, you're not my type." 


Hargrove asked Clovis to read his first 
sample of ad copy in the boardroom 
the following afternoon. Clovis got to 
his feet uncertainly. "When it comes to 
green garden peas, Dominick's are 
chocked full of goodness. A sweet Do- 
minick pea is like no other pea.” 

‘These words provoked snorts of laugh- 
ter from the writers sitting around the 
mahogany conference table. Brooks 
Brothers men, Calvin Klein women 
and a hick from the state of Georgia 
reading the most stupid piece of copy 
known to man. 

Back at the St. Ingbert that night 
Clovis assailed Carmen, the night re- 
ceptionist, with a rundown of his day. 
Carmen was an anaplastic dwarf with a 
normal torso but shortened limbs. She 
was the first friendly face Clovis had 
seen all day. She stood ona small bench 
behind the reception desk, paging with 
stubby fingers through an ancient card 
file. “I know just the person for you.” 
Carmen found the number and madea 
quick phone call. “Dr. Harrigan has an 
open appointment and can see you in 
10 minutes. His office is two blocks 
down the street, just beyond the El 
platform. The man works wonders, 
and his fee is reasonable.” 

Clovis followed Carmen's directions 
to a three-story brick building where 

(continued on page 155) 


“I'm sorry, but 
I really have nothing 
to wear...” 


87 


88 


the naked page project 


ж Tan 


What comes after emptiness? 


Our readers answer the question for the young novelist 


By Jonathan Safran Foer 


I don't know what my expectations were when, as part of an 
essay on emptiness in the 50th anniversary issue of PLAYBOY, 
T asked readers to rip a page from the magazine and mail it 
to me. But what I received was so astounding—in quantity, 
sincerity and imagination—that I now feel a need, a responsi- 
bility, to share some of the results. 

While many readers followed the letter of the instructions 
and simply mailed back the blank page, many more extrap- 
olated, filling the page with random thoughts, drawings, 
angry rants, confessions and philosophical musings. A 
prisoner, sentenced to spend the rest of his life behind bars, 
folded the blank page into a paper airplane and mailed it to 
me. A respondent from Lafayette, Indiana sent me an empty 
box of cigarettes, noting it was "every bit as stimulating as a 
good piece ofcollege-ruled notebook paper.” Fair enough. A 
musician sent me an empty musical stave. Someone who 
provided no name or return address sent an envelope filled 
with nothing at all. 

For some reason many people were compelled to let me 
know where they were when they read the article. (The major- 
ity were on the toilet, which I take as neither a compliment 
nor an insult.) Another common sentiment was a hesitancy 


to tear anything from the issue. As a respondent from Mis- 
sion Viejo, California put it, "I can't bring myselfto the place 
where I deface the magazine I have cherished for the past 33 
years." Others came from a less idealistic position: "What I 
want to know is, will ripping out a piece of paper lessen the 
value of my collector's edition?" 

What unified the responses was a common desire to know 
the results of the project. How many pages were sent back? 
What did people do with their pages? What are you going to 
do with them? 

The last question first. Beyond this piece I'm not going to 
do anything with them. I can't. They're too personal. I've 
wanted to show them to friends, but that would undermine a 
trust that was implicitly granted to me. I knew sharing the re- 
sults would require great care: Most important, nothing 
could be revealed that might identify the author. 

As for the first question—how many were scnt back—at 
the time I write this, somewhere in the neighborhood of 
300, which is a pretty inspiring neighborhood, given the 
effort (and postage) required. As one respondent put it, 
“Keep in mind I'm too lazy to send back rebates for cash, 
yet I wanted to send this to you.” As I understand it, empty 


The author (above) surrounded by some of the hundreds of responses he received from pıarsor readers. Opposite: An empty page filled with life's most pressing questions. 


PHOTOGRAPH BY GEN NISHINO 


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paper is still trickling in. Presumably 
that trickle will dry up soon, but it's 
nice to think of a page coming back 10 
years from now. 

What did people do with the pages? 
I think the best way to do the responses 
justice is to excerpt a few of them. The 
ones below are by no means exhaus- 
tive. I wish 1 could include every re- 
sponse that made me think, but that 
would be every response, and that 
would fill the magazine. 

H 


Ljust found out about one minute ago that 
I'm pregnant. My husband and I have been 
trying for a couple of years. He had a vasec- 
tomy about 12 years ago, then a reversal that 
didn't work. I found your article very fasci- 
nating, because even though I just found 
ош I'm pregnant (home test) and will have it 
confirmed by my doctor tomorrow (blood 
test), I don't know if Рт pregnant with one 
embryo or five. Due to an in vitro fertility 
process, I had five healthy embryos implanted 
10 days ago. Now I know that regardless of 
what the results are, Тат not having a litter 
of children. I am having one, so talk about 
empty pages—not just for the one that will 
SR be born but for the one(s?) that never will. 


S 


VAT ere es 
many naked beeasts in 


SE a LUN E fan 


Playboy. 


2 ~ 


. 

These naked pages come from my class- 
room of senior honors students. A girl in 
class pointed out, when I proposed that we 
send you our sheets, that their paper is 
inherently more full of potential than 
Freud's, because they are alive.... [know not 
what I will do should the administration of 
our Catholic high school find out we've been 
reading material from PLAYBOY. 

. 


ША: 


gen DET 
3 


И 


Is this really blank? Or is it simply too 

full for us to focus? 
. 

Pm a convict. I never seem to learn. I 
would've been free years ago, but I chose to 
fight instead of becoming a prison fuckboy 
or rat. Now I will die in prison.... I read 
your article, and it pissed me off a lot. I felt 
total anger for anyone who thanks so much 
about paper.... Then I had a really good 
workout, and I noticed this page open and 
took another moment to comprehend the 
whole anatomy of what could actually 
come out of a mind... I've read more than 
1,000 books in the past six years. Mostly 
fiction. I get a great amount of escape from 
fiction... Your article brought some much- 
needed optimism to my life today. You also 
helped me avoid crushing an idiot's face 


in. Carpe diem! 


Evan One Collector, Te Andlar V 


. 
1 contemplated what I should put on the 

blank page that you asked to be returned to 

Dae gem уои. After much consideration I decided that 
T would send along a poem that my father 

p = urote to me in 1993, nine full years before 
his death. I found it in his desk drawer in a 

- sealed envelope three days after he died. The 
envelope simply read, “Personal—to [au- 

thor's name]." The enclosed poems spoke 


S 
$ 
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2 47 


volumes to me. I am certain others may write to you with 
poignant thoughts or ideas on the blank pages that you asked 
them to fill. However, my page will be filled with words from 
an old man to his young daughter, which he wrote to help 
her through the incredible, lonely process of death. 
б 


Y 1 hope you get your stack of pages as tall as the Empire 


t State Building. I also hope that the unlucky intern in 


charge of this project decides to shove that stack straight 
up your ass! In conclusion, you'll notice that 1 have 
included with this letter not a blank piece of notebook 


э / paper but a blank piece of toilet paper. 


p 
WA — Lam enclosing the next page from my journal. Гат 
p / mot a published author, nor do I aspire to be. I am quite. 
44 happy as a housewife who spends her days cleaning the 

house, watching TV and playing video games. In my 
journal, which I keep hidden even from my husband, I 
write my fears, observations and lessons learned. When I 
ат angry I turn to this book to rant about my feelings... 
Tintend someday to give it to my children in the hopes that 
they can glean something useful from its pages. 

. 


Your page found me deep in a residential drug treatment pro- 
gram.... As just one in a chain of readers, 1 am unable to detach the 
‘page as suggested. So 1 am sending the middle two pages of my mar- 
ble composition treatment journal instead. With the front half of my 
journal being used for entries and the back containing notes on the 
process of treatment, the middle is where my thoughts will meet. 


б 

The empty page allows me to rid myself of pain. It helps me work 
through problems. It comforts me on long, sleepless nights... Му 
mother made the grave mistake of marrying a sociopathic pedophile 
when I was three. My older sister was five, and my younger sister was 
en route. I was raised in an environment that did not allow anyone in 
but us five. If anyone made a friend, or if a teacher started asking too 
many questions, we maved. We'd move every three months to a year. I 
can't count the number of houses 1 have lived in. My ability to openly 
communicate was greatly inhibited. This perhaps led to my love of the 
empty page.... At 39 I believe I have finally come to a place where 
peace of mind is at least possible. I have had a most eveniful life, full 


NAKED PAGE 
ES Raw Data EE 


Overall responses.. 286+ 
Readers who sent back the naked page still naked... 
Readers who sent in their own naked pages................. 
Responses from aspiring writers....... 

Responses from incarcerated readers....... 
Readers asking for advice.......... 
Readers inspired by the project to start or resume writing......... 7 
Readers complaining that only one side of the page was blank... 
Readers asking for a blank sheet of the author's paper............. 2 
Country songs inspired by the project ("Sunday Mornin'”)...... 1 
Responses with Three's Company return address labels..... 
Responses written on Hello Kitty stationery.......... 
Naked pages covered entirely in Wite-Out...... 


of twists and turns, never truly allowing for much breathing space. 
But it has certainly been enlightening lo realize that I caused a large 
part of my unrest. I can allow myself to rest. I may never be able to con- 
trol the world that I live in, but 1can control me. The simplicity of that 
realization was mind-boggling but has since made me whole. That and 
the empty pages that have so willingly collected have held safe my very 
soul, and I think that I will be just fine, thank you very much. 


Are you tempted to write on these pages? Do you smell them as 
soon as you get them? I would. You know, the way children in school 
used to smell the mimeographed pages of a test. 

. 


Tue owned the notebook that this piece of paper came from since 
eighth grade. It was given to me by a friend and titled Special 
‚Memories. I've used it to write down memories and send special let- 
ters. I use the paper sparingly because I want to always have a 
place to add a memory. Ihave an excellent memory now, and I fear 
that I will lose it in my old age. I love my memories, so I use the 
notebook as a precaution. 

. 

I received a piece of paper from a soldier in Iraq. He 
taught me how to write the Arabic word for ghost. 

I received paper from a police badge collector. He wrote, 
“From one collector to another!” and 
included his business card, which lists his 
occupation as Police Badge Collector. 

I received paper from someone who 
knew Anne Frank. à 

I received paper from ап "ex-Ameri- +.” =. 
can" whotookthe opportunity to write JAAS 
a manifesto against a country he bates. 
After detailing the crimes against 
bumanity that America has perpc- 
trated— “You could have used your 
wealth and power to help the rest of 
the world instead of robbing and 
killing and bringing the world to 
the brink of Armageddon”—he 
ended his letter with, “For me, 
this blank page represents what 
‚America could have been, but 
now it's too late." 

I received paper from 
Marines, landscape architects, single 
mothers, self-described pot-smoking losers... 

My favorite? A drawing from a three-year-old who found 
his parents’ issue and instinctively filled the empty page. He 
drew a mountain. 

So what now? Has the blank page run its course in my life? 
There was a time when I thought the collection might start 
to move in other directions: paper from dead writers, photo 
paper from photographers, blank canvases. I've thought 
about conducting interviews and then editing out all the 
speaking so all that would remain would be the breathing. 
Imagine that: the music of a great poet's silence, the sounds 
of what a politician isn’t saying. Or those moments in a sym- 
phony when all that can be heard is the conductor's baton, 

There's limitless emptiness to be harvested: the lenses of 
glasses and cameras, unused condoms, typewriter ribbons 
and ink cartridges and pen refills, chopsticks that are still 
connected at the top (and unbroken fortune cookies, too), 
syringes, gasoline.... Who knows? Maybe I will pursue some 
of that one day. But for now I've got a stack of my own 
empty paper staring back at me. I’m about to finish my 
second book, and I'm starting to think of ideas for what to 
do next. The same old questions are back: Who am I? Why 
do I do what I do? Is this a good way to live? 


1 feel like filling pages. 


91 


92 


the 


residentia 


Sex Qu 


On the birthday of this great 
nation let us celebrate an endur- 

ing tradition—our presidents" > 
secret service. Take this quiz 
and put your patriotism to the 
test. And remember: If the 
Oval Office is rocking, don't 
bother knocking 


1. The first U.S. president known 
to have been caught cheating 
on his wife was James Garfield. 
‚After finding out about the smutty 
letters he had written to an 18- 
year-old New York woman named 
Calhoun, his wife accused him of: 
@ "abusing the executive privilege" 
(5) “sloppy penmanship, atrocious 
grammar and poor syntax” 


© “lawless passion” 


© “getting jiggy with that tenement 
trash” 


5. Believe it or not, all these 
quotes are real. Who said ‘em? 
About whom? 


“He ate pussy like a champ. I'd 
have to say, "Whoa, boy, come on 
up here.‘” 
@ptaveoy cover girl Elizabeth Ward 
Gracen (above) about Bill Clinton 
(Ө Gennifer Flowers about Bill Clinton 
Monica Lewinsky about Bill Clinton 
'@ Figure skater Michelle Kwan about 
Bill Clinton 


"I've had more women by accident 
than he's had on purpose." 
George W. Bush about his dad 


George H.W. Bush about his son 
Lyndon Johnson about JFK 
(Ө Franklin D. Roosevelt about Hitler 


3. During his 1884 campaign, 
Grover Cleveland was mocked 
for having a child out of wedlock 
with a store clerk named Maria 
Halpin. (The child was sent to an. 
orphanage, his mother to an 
insane asylum.) Which newspaper 
headline is real? 

A TERRIBLE TALE: A DARK CHAPTER INA | 
PUBLIC MAN'S HISTORY— The Buffalo Н 
Evening Telegraph Н 
MA, MA, WHERE'S МҮ PA? HE AIN'T IN 

THE WHITE HOUSE, НА HA HAI—San. 
Francisco Examiner 

[O SHOCKER: GROVER PUT PENIS IN 
WOMAN'S vAGINA!—Detroit Free Press 


(©) NICE GOING, ASSHOLE—New York 


2. According to a recent biography, 
‘one U.S. president was photographed 
in a bathtub receiving oral sex from 
a partner who was not his wife. 
The horny provocateurs were: 


“Are you prepared for the storm 


H 
Н 

Post } oflovemaking with which you will 

4. One president was rumoredto : Бе assailed?” 

have had a four-year homosexual ¡(3 Martin Van Buren to a stranger in the. 

relationship. Who was it? {next toilet stall 

George Washington 19 John Е Kennedy to Marilyn Monroe 

Gerald Ford Woodrow Wilson to Ellen Wilson 


George H.W. Bush 


George Washington to Martha 
@ Abraham Lincoln 


Washington 


6. How much power can a presi- 
dent yield? Match the leader 
below—cut out of a bill of Ameri- 
can currency—to what he can get 
you outside your local bus station. 


7. After his first wife died, Woodrow 
Wilson married a widow named 
Edith Bolling Galt. When the new 
couple was spotted out on the 
town, the Washington Post ran a 
story about them. The piece included 
which of the following typos: 

(3) "The president spent much of the 
evening entering Mrs. Galt.” 

© “The entourage spent much of the 
evening entering Mrs. Galt.” 

© "The line of people waiting to enter 
Mrs. Galt went all the way around 
the block.” 

“The president's penis spent much 
of the penis evening entertaining 
penis Mrs. Galt." 


8. Lyndon Johnson, who was 
known to whip it out in public on 
occasion, nicknamed his dick: 

© Mr. President 

(Jumbo 

© Mount Gushmore 

Rear Admiral 


9. п 1919 the GOP paid a woman 
named Carrie Phillips $20,000 in 
hush money in hopes that her 
story would never be printed in, 
say, the largest men’s magazine in 
the world. Phillips was: 

Ma reporter who knew that Warren 
G. Harding's wife liked to let 
freedom swing 


¿(8 a German sympathizer who'd been 

$ schtupping Harding for 15 years 
12a reporter who knew about Hard- 

1 ing’s fetish for milking himself in 

| public places 

(©) Һе inspiration for the phrase “suck a 
1 golf ball through a garden hose" 


10. Match the president with his 

|. vaguely phallic nickname: 
i(JRichard Nixon (2) Rough Rider 
10 Teddy Roosevelt @ Slick Willie 
¡James Monroe (5) ElBJ 

Ов! Clinton © The Napoleon 
¡O James К. Polk ofthe Stump 
¡(O Lyndon Johnson © Tricky Dick 

H @ Last of the 

H Cocked Hats 

1 11. Ronald Reagan once quipped, 
“Politics is supposed to be the 
second-oldest profession. I have 
come to realize that it bears a very 
close resemblance to the first." By 
this he meant: 

(А! politicians are whores. 

1I you've got a problem, you should 


! write your local prostitute. 


{©The rumors are true: Tip O'Neill 
once gave Hugh Grant a blow job 
on Sunset Boulevard. 

(The politicians from Asia are particu- 
larly talented. 


12. WI one of these presidents 


is receiving oral pleasure under 
the podium? 


Onn 


AS YEMSNY 


Bush vs. Kerry 


How do our 2004 presidential 
candidates stack up below the 
beltway? Compare and contrast: 


Resembles what sexual icon? 


Former 
PLAYBOY edi- 
torial direc- 
tor Arthur 
Kretchmer 


Porn star 
John 
Buttman” 
Stagliano 


Preferred lube 


Crude oil Heinz 57 sauce 


"Mission ‘A Me 
accomplished!” Incoming! 
Who's gayer? 
Уза Swings both 
cheerleader. Nass 
at Yale allthe issues 


Pet name for his privates 


The Prez 
Dispenser Lurch 
Infidelity accusation 
Texas-based ex- After rumors 
stripper Tammy surfaced in the 
Phillips, 35, press, New 
claimed that the York-based AP 
two got con- reporter Alexan- 
gressional in a dra Polier, 27, 
Best Western denied having 
men's room. an affair. 
Nickname for supporters 
Bush lovers Bush lickers 


Bizarre fetish 


Æ 
d 7 


NS 


Likes to screw... 


Poor people Heiresses 


The auto industry is making history with the 
most advanced fleet of fantasy sports cars 
ever. Want to go shopping? Just dreaming? 
Get ready for the ride of your life 


By Ken Gross 


front end, the lifted rear, the whole 

thing a piece of kinetic sculpture 
finely hewed from metal and glass and 
rubber. Lift the hood and you find 
the muscle. You take a step back to 
survey the whole package and a thou- 
sand clichés dance in your head. You 
think of sex, status, power, dreams ful- 
filled. Mostly, though, you think about 
speed. Lots of it. 

For every indulgence there is an 
apex, and 2004 marks new territory 
for the autophile. Never before in 
more than a century of car history have 
manufacturers attained such levels of 
panache, technology and performance; 
they've delivered the greatest collec- 
tion of cost-is-no-object sports cars ever 
to hit the tarmac. A shift in the market 
in the 1990s paved the way for this new 
wave of supercars. Volkswagen bought 
Bentley, BMW bought Rolls-Royce, and 
Mercedes pumped some new blood 
into its venerable Maybach badge. 
These well-funded companies began 
competing to see who could create the 
finest and fastest vehicle. By the turn of 
the 21st century every supercar man- 
ufacturer—even blue-chip Americans 
such as Chrysler and Ford—had en- 
tered the race in the sport category. 
The result? Street-legal rides with 
asphalt-shredding horsepower and 
ultrasophisticated electronics, gift 
wrapped in some of the most auda- 
cious bodies the world has ever seen. 

We assembled the ultimate garage, 
filled with our picks from the top of the 
sport supercar market. Then we did 
some test-driving. The following are 
the best of the best. They range from 
incredibly expensive to (literally) price- 
less. All are fast; one of them (at right) is 
praciically supersonic. Each is guaran- 
teed to get your motor running one way 
oranother. They'll ruin you for pedes- 
trian rides. Read on at your own risk. 


| t starts with a body. The sloping 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY RICHARD ZU 


Chrysler ME Four-Twelve 


Every January the mobs descend on the Detroit auto show, wanting to gawk at 
the hottest new models from companies all over the world. But this year's specta- 
tors got more than they bargained for when DaimlerChrysler COO Wolfgang 
Bernhard made his entrance in this amazing machine. (A Chrysler? Yeah, a 
Chrysler.) Cut impossibly low, with a knife-edge body, the ME Four-Twelve sports 
an 850-horsepower, dry-sump AMG-Mercedes-Benz-based VI2 power plant and a 
seven-speed transaxle. What's that mean? Zero to 60 in 2.9 seconds, more than a 
quarter of a second quicker than the fastest street-legal model ever made (the 
1998 McLaren FI). Top speed: a downright scary 248 miles per hour. When one of 
these bastards streaks past, all you'll see is its 96-LED taillights, which combine 
brake, parking and direction signals. "The ME Four-Twelve is the ultimate design- 
and-engineering statement from the Chrysler group,” says a company rep. The 
hitch: You can't go out and buy it—yet. The word on the street is to look for it in 
2006, with a $450,000 price tag. This one, photographed in pLAyBoy’s studio, is the 
only one that currently exists. Rest assured, we're first in line for the second. 


This car may be named for a 
19th century fighting bull, but the 
Murciélago performed more like 
a dancer when we tested it on 
the mountain roads north of San 
Diego. You become part of this 
vehicle frorn the moment you 
jump in, leaning back in the luge- 
like leather bucket seat. Built in 
Sant'Agata Bolognese, Italy, the 
Murciélago features a six-speed 
gearbox and a 6.2-liter, 580- 
horsepower V12 engine that red- 
lines at 7.500 rpm. That's enough 
juice to rocket you to 60 mph in 
3.5 seconds. When you top out 
at 205 mph you'll be grateful for 
the variable all-wheel-drive sys- 
tem, which ensures that some 28 
to 80 percent of the engine's 
479 pounds per foot of torque 
is available to drive the front 
wheels (translation: phenomenal 
grip). Price: a mere $290,000. 


А two-seat, long-hooded front- 
engine coupé, the $235,000 
575M Maranello is closely mod- 
eled after the 1960s 250 GTO, the 
car that forever defined Ferrari 
as the world's premier perfor- 
mance vehicle. The Maranello is 
the thinking man's sport super- 
car—classic elegance combined 
with the most cutting-edge engi- 
neering on the planet. Thanks to 
515 horsepower, a superb F1 
paddle-shifted six-speed gear- 
box and a computer-controlled 
suspension system, everything 
happens very quickly. Top speed: 
202 mph. We test-drove her on 
loopy Southwestern desert roads 
and found ourselves shifting con- 
stantly just to hear the engine's 
howl and purr. Step on the throt- 
tle and the car responds like a 
cruise missile. The only downside 
to this ride? Getting out of it. 


Lamborghini Murcielago 


Ferrari 575M Maranello e 


eNothing about this car is nor- 
mal. Climb into the cockpit, let 
your eyes glance over the instru- 
mentation and you feel damn 
near omnipotent. Step on the 
gas pedal and watch the world 
around you melt into a blur. A 
modern reprise of Mercedes's 
legendary 19505 300 SLR Coupe, 
this lightweight carbon-fiber- 
bodied roadster is assembled in 
England by the team that builds 
McLaren Formula 1 machines 
(MB's race car division). Tested 
on a racetrack in Spain, where it 
repeatedly sprinted to 60 mph in 
3.7 seconds, the SLR topped out 
at 207 mph and idled docilely 
while waiting for the track to 


Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren 


Clear. The 5.5-liter supercharged 
626-horsepower V8 engine is 
set back amidships for optimal 
weight distribution, and the 
crisp five-speed electronic AMG 
SpeedShift transmission selects 
gears far quicker than you can. 
Since it's a Mercedes, it's also 
loaded with every safety feature 
imaginable. No wonder the car- 
buff-book authors are drooling; 
one called the SLR the greatest 
car ever built. The first model in 
the U.S. sold at auction for $2.2 
million in December. Figure on 
$450,000 for yours, and you'd 
better hurry up about it. The 
Beverly Hills Mercedes-Benz 
dealer gets just one this year.« 


"And try not to look so happy when she sits on your face.” 


100 


Midsummer's Dream 


Discovering 
Miss July was 
awalkona 
Virginia beach 


ou may find this hard to believe, 
but Stephanie Glasson, whose middle 
name might as well be Photogenic, 
never entertained the idea of modeling 
until one day last summer when she 
was approached by a PLAYBOY scout in 
Virginia Beach. "Honestly, 1 didn't see 
what the photographer saw in me," 
says the 28-year-old, whose less than 
glitzy upbringing in Memphis, Tennes- 
see (she moved to Virginia three years 
ago) has clearly kept her grounded. 
“I'm from humble beginnings. I have 
three sisters, and growing up we re- 
ceived only what we needed. But if one 
of us got a new pair of jeans, each of us 
gota new pair of jeans. Everything had 
to be fair.” Everything, that is, except for 
who controlled the television remote. 
In Stephanie's estrogen-heavy house- 
hold, her stepdad frequently lost out. 
“He loved sports, but he could never 
watch them in the house,” she says. 
“We outvoted him." 

In college Miss July studied business 
administration and developed a pas- 
sion for real estate. She now has her 
agent's license. “I love to meet people, 
talk to them and help them with their 
decisions,” she says. “My goal is to start 
my own real estate company to offer 
weekly rentals to tourists. I think it's 
important to add little touches, like gift 
baskets and thank-you cards. I would 
also visit my clients and make sure 
everything was okay with their trip.” 

When she's not making visitors feel 
at home, Stephanie can be found 
whooping it up Virginia Beach-style. 
“The largest naval base in the country 
is nearby,” she says. “Because of all the 
guys, there's great nightlife.” Her 
admitted penchant for men in uniform 
has resulted in brief flings with two 
Navy SEALs. “I don't want to date any- 
one who's cocky, but they sometimes 
give that impression," she says. “I like 
clean-cut, muscular guys who don't 
have a brick head. And I have a 
weakness for a Texas accent—think 
Matthew McConaughey in How to Lose 
a Guy in 10 Days.” 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY ARNY FREYTAG 


Stephanie isn't ready to settle down—at least not while the weather is warm. “As soon as winter hits I want to stay in, start 
a fire, light candles and watch TV," she says. “But last summer I was out every night. I made a million new friends. I love 
going to restaurants, especially if they serve calamari." And when the mood hits to visit family back in Memphis, Stephanie 
often makes the 17-hour road trip in one shot—but not always alone. “I have a big car, so my two German shepherds, Kane 
and Shelby, go everywhere with me,” she says. "Some people think Kane is vicious because he barks. But if you walk into my 
house, he'll lick you to death. Shelby is named after my home county in Tennessee. They're spoiled." 

Me can imagine it now: In a few years Stephanie will have her own business and spend her free time traveling around the 
United States—her man and man's best friends in tow. "I can see that," she says. "I'm not stressing over anything these days. 
I've learned that everything happens as it's supposed to happen, and that's how I live my life." 


In honor of the Fourth of July, Stephonie is our own Miss Independence. “I'm an all-American girl who is oll obout taking care of 
this country," she says. "I love the American flag ond everything it stonds for. | know America isn't o perfect ploce, but | think we 
need to stond up ond fight for our country. | wholeheortedly appreciate all those people who ore on the front lines." 


See more of Miss July at cyber.playboy.com. 


PLAYMATE DATA SHEET 


me, Mime Elson 
BUST: 2A №. WAIST: DA HIPS: EDO | 
HEIGHT: SI uum ee 


BIRTH DATE: BIRTHPLACE: 


«re 1, 10115 
AMBITIONS :. NN oe 4 
ESSE NUTUS 


TURN-ONS : 


Muscles ma O Вуд Осо. 
es NEA VERS MEO Who IGUANA 


(\_ ink. Od, ANA 
MUSICIANS I ADMIRE: EU Mt. y 


ON ACTING 


WHY I WON’T SWIM IN THE OCEAN: 


RS SWIMM Ardund 


CITY I WANT TO VISIT NEXT: Miami 


WOSN'T I WE? Dong A parven MODELING: IN 


VIRGINIA BEACH 


Ni Cn „ei 


PLAYBOY’S PARTY JOKES 


A retired sailor put on his old uniform and 
headed for the docks. He found a prostitute, 
who took him to a motel. They started р 
at it. In need of some reassurance that he was 
as good as her young clients, he asked, "How 
am I doing?" 

The prostitute replied, “Well, sailor, you're 
doing about three knots.” 

He asked, “What does that mean?" 

She said, "You're knot hard, you're knot in, 
and you're knot getting your money back.” 


A married couple took their three-year-old 
son to the doctor because they were concerned 
about his small penis. After examining the 
child the doctor confidently declared, “Just 
feed him bagels with cream cheese. It's an old 
trick. That should solve the problem.” 

The next morning, when the bey arrived at 
breakfast, there was a large stack of bagels and 
cream cheese in the middle of the table. “For 
me?” the boy asked. 

“Just take one," his mother replied. “The 
rest are for your father." 


A man went to the dentist with a severe 
toothache. The dentist looked into his mouth 
and told him he'd have to pull out a rotten 
tooth. The man said, "Whatever it takes. I can't 
stand the pain." 

"The dentist took out a needle and the man 
said, "No, Im scared to death of needles. Can 
you use something else to kill the pain?" 

"The dentist said, "Sure, I'll just give you 
some nitrous oxide instead." 

The man said, “No can do, Doc. I'm allergic 
to gas." 

So the dentist gave him two Viagras. The 
man asked, “Will this dull the pain?" 

The dentist said, “No, but it'll give you some- 
thing to hold on to while I pull out that tooth.” 


Three marines were driving up the highway 
between Basra and Baghdad when they came 
upon an Iraqi insurgent who was badly injured 
and unconscious. On the opposite side of the 
road wasan injured American soldier who was 
semiconscious. As the Marines gave both men 
first aid they asked what had happened. The 
American said, “I was moving north along the 
highway when I ran into this guy. We pointed 
our guns at each other and I said, ‘Saddam 
Hussein is an asshole.’ Then he yelled, ‘George 
Bush is an asshole.’ We were standing there 
shaking hands when a truck hit us.” 


Bionve JOKE OF THE MONTH: A blonde went to 
city hall to register to vote. The clerk asked 
her, “When's your birthday?” 

She replied, “June 10.” 

The clerk asked, “What year?” 

The blonde said, “Every year.” 


А пап circled a job advertisement in a Boston 
newspaper for a position titled "pussy shaver." 
He called the number in the ad and asked 
what the job was about. A man explained, 
“Well, we make adult videos here in Boston, 
and we need someone who can shave the 
actresses so they don't have any pubic hair. 
Are you single?” 

The guy said, "Sure am.” 

‘The producer said, Boa. We've had trou- 
ble with married men who take this job. The 
wife gets jealous. Are you intimidated by beau- 
tiful women?" 

The guy said, "Not at all. I love them and 
they love ine." 

The producer said, "Well, you sound perfect 
for the job. Can you be in New York on 
Monday?" 

The guy said, “New York? I thought you 
said you were in Boston." 

The producer replied, “I am. But the line 
for interviews stretches all the way to New 
York." 


т) 

f 
Z 
E == 
= 


p 


Two women who hadn't seen cach other in a 
few months met for lunch. The conversation 
turned to their respective love lives. One 
woman began by raving about a man she had 
just met. She said, "He's perfect Last night, 
when we went out for dinner, he said the four 
little words I've been waiting to hear a man 
say to me.” 

The other woman said, “You mean ‘Will 
you marry me?” 

She replied, “No. He said, ‘Put your money 


away.” 


Send your jokes to Party Jokes Editor, rLavsov, 730 
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. 


FIR 


“So I'm going to be employee of the month twice in a 


RAZZI 


APPRENTICE 


Help wanted: celebrity photographer. 
Must have good eyes and flexible moral code. 
No experience necessary 


ou'd be surprised how much water a six-inch plastic 
bottle seems to hold when it's poured all over you. 
This lesson in liquid displacement comes courtesy of 
Bruce Willis, who has just sauntered out of a Malibu eatery, 
made a beeline for our car and distributed the contents of said 
bottle through the vehicle's open windows. Pop-eyed in the 
backseat I catch а faceful of designer H,O, bur the brunt is 
absorbed by Marc Rylewski, a paparazzo busily snapping pic- 
tures of Willis from the front seat. He’s soaked. 

Willis swaggers away, then glances back with the famous 
smirk that has preceded so many leaden action-flick one- 
liners. “How’s that?” he asks. 

Swell, Bruce. So you want double prints, then? 

The term paparazzi comes from the 1960 Federico Fellini 
film La Dolce Vita, which features a pesky news photogra- 
pher named Paparazzo. The word literally translates as “buzzing 
insects,” and Mr. Die Hard has just treated us as such. 
Paparazzi have existed for decades, but we're entering the pro- 
fession’s golden age. Led by a slew of new or reconfigured 
celebrity magazines—Us Weekly, In Touch, Star—all trying to 
dethrone the venerable People, competition and compensation 
have never been greater for the exclusive, often embarrassing 
famous-person photo. 

The ad in LA Weekly made it sound so simple: “Paparazzi 
wanted. No experience necessary. Car and cell phone re- 
quired.” Ir doesn't seem like a job you'd find jammed 
between “office manager” and “patent clerk” in the classi- 
fieds, yet there it was. The idea intrigued me. Could a career of 
harassing celebrities and disgracing my good name really be 
just a phone call away? 

Yes and no. When I contact Rylewski he explains that it can 
be that simple—but if I really want to learn what it takes to be 
a good paparazzo, more effort is required. He agrees to take 
me under his wing for a week so I can see just how much more. 


By David Peisner 


Days later I'm jetting west from the relative tranquility of 
Atlanta, about to be dropped into the middle of the paparazzi’s 
natural habitat: Los Angeles. 


LESSON NUMBER ONE: 
SPOT THE CAR, CATCH THE STAR 


“Mary-Kate and Ashley were here earlier,” Rylewski informs 
me in his halting French accent. For my first tutorial we're 
standing in the parking lor behind upscale L.A. boutique 
Fred Segal. To most it's a nondescript slab of asphalt near a 
cluster of trendy clothing stores. To a paparazzo it's a regular 
shooting galleria. 
Rylewski is a lanky 35- 
year-old expatriate with 
dark, gray-flecked hair 
who moved to L.A. nine 
years ago. After spending 
four years working with 
X17, a paparazzi agency, 
he took 18 months off to 
write and direct a movie, 
then in 2001 started his 
own agency, Ins7ght. 
“See that guy?” He ges- 
tures toward a middle- 
aged man behind the wheel 
of a beat-up taxi who 
looks a hell of a lot like a 
cabdriver. “Нез paparazzi. 
Works for my old boss. 
That one too,” he says, 
nodding toward a stout 
guy loitering at the open 
hatch ofa Land Rover. 


AMBUSHED: Rylewski (left) and Peis- 
ner target a celebrity’s front gate. 


En 


1 had naively suggested meeting at Rylewski's office. He in- 
structed me to mect him on a street corner and then led me to 
a silver Mercedes SUV. This, I realize, is headquarters. Inside, 
all the backseats except one have been removed, and a laptop 
is mounted in a bracket over the passenger scat. The windows 
are heavily tinted and covered by a black curtain that rings the 
back of the car. A plastic case containing an array of electronic 
equipment is mounted behind the driver's seat. Rylewski's 
camera sits in a green backpack next to it. 

I quick 
this job. It's a studio, a dining room and, when necessary, a 
bedroom. Rylewski's Mercedes is ideally suited to the task. For 
starters it’s an SUV, which gives him a high vantage point to 
scope his quarry. And it's an expensive SUV, which blends in 
around the tony neighborhoods where celebs live and gather. 
The flat rear window is perfect to shoot through. From here 
Rylewski juggles tips, pursues celebrities, snaps digital pictures 
and even edits and transmits them to magazine photo editors 
when his wireless Internet card is cooperating. 

We motor down Melrose toward Beverly Hills. Rylewski is 
perched in the driver's seat with his head high, though somchow 
he's still slouching. His eyes constantly scan the horizon. Every 
few minutes he'll fix on a car traveling in the other direction and 
crane his neck as it passes. “Pm checking out license plates," he 
says. He rosses me a small black notebook; in it is a handwritten 
catalog of plate numbers, car 
descriptions and their corre- 
sponding celebrity owners. 
“Mornings I usually follow a 
particular star. Afternoons | just 
drive around and catch people.” 

1 mention that it sounds 
rather implausible to pinpoint a 
few specific souls in a sprawling 
city of 4 million. 

“Oh no, I catch people all the 
time,” he says. “I look at every- 
one driving—well, the bling- 
bling cars. If they're in the 
distance, I look at the plate. If it 
rings a bell, I check the person 
driving and anyone beside 
them. The tricky part is doing a 
U-turn without being spotted 
or creating an accident.” 

Despite the reckless maneu- 
vers this entails, Rylewski 
boasts that he hasn't been in an 
accident in nine years. Soon we 
pass Barneys on Wilshire and 
turn down a side street. He 


learn it’s hard to overstate а car's importance to 


eyes a tall, well-dressed man getting into a silver Acura. 

"That's Lisa Kudrow’s guy,” he says. We pull over. “He might 
be going to meet her. Not a top seller, but with her kid and the 
guy, it'll sell.” Ies one thing to be able to recognize Kudrow 
walking down the street; it’s entirely different to be able to pick 
out her husband, Michel Stern, an advertising executive known 
for nothing other than marrying a Friend. I'm not sure Pd rec- 
ognize David Arquette if he were sitting in my lap. 

The Acura cascs into traffic. We follow for a few miles, then 
pull up to a stoplight in the left lane, leaving a car between us 
and him. I haven't tailed anyone since I suspected a high 
school girlfriend of cheating on me. When the light changes, 
the Acura turns right. 

“Damn, I passed him,” Rylewski mutters. “You should never 
pass.” We swerve across four lanes, turn right onto the next 
side street and swing an abrupt U-turn. Without warning I'm 
tossed shoulder-first into the back of the passenger seat as we 
slam into a Jeep. 

"Euuuuuch." So much for nine years without an accident. 

We climb out to survey the damage. The Mercedes's front 
grille is smashed and the hood bent, steam billowing omi- 
nously. The Jeep is completely unscathed, its driver relieved 
to be on her way. Standing at the side of the road, hands on 
his hips, Rylewski manages a weak smile. “If the stars knew 
about this they'd be having a good laugh right now." 


LESSON NUMBER TWO: 
JIM CARREY IS NOT YOUR FRIEND 


lrs practically an article of faith that 
paparazzi are scum. When the sedan 


HIGH-END DIGITAL CAMERA WITH TELEPHOTO 
LENS To be competitive a paparazzo can't get just 
a shot of Jennifer Aniston eating lunch. The truly 
celeb-obsessed need to know what kind of let- 


TWO CELL PHONES For juggling informants’ tips on celebrity 
whereatouts, calling magazine editors with fresh "exclu- 
sives” and ordering yet arother take-out meal. Plus, this is 
LA по constantly yakking on a cell is conspicuous. 


carrying Lady Diana Spencer and Dodi 
Al-Fayed careened into a Paris tunnel 


wall in 1997, the army of phorogra- 
phers pursuing her, and their ilk, were 
immediately stamped as immoral, 
bloodthirsty demons. Evidence that the 


luce is caught between those perfect teeth. 


BACKUP CAMERA For when Jennifer Aniston's 
bodyguard tosses your main camera under a bus. 


DARK SUNGLASSES No, shoplifting starlet. l'm 
not looking at you: I'm looking at that squirrel 
over there. Go about your misdemeanor. 


driver was shit-faced and speeding did 
little to mollify the public wrath, espe- 
cially given reports that several papa- 
razzi had taken pictures of the dying 
royal in the wreckage. In the aftermath 
the epither “princess killer” was hurled 


ATTORNEY'S CARD The sooner 
you call a lawyer after a beat- 
ing the sooner you'll be living 
in Russell Crowe's condo, 


TAPE MEASURE Restrain- 
ing orders are subjective 
‘things, but judges seem 
to take the whole 50-foot 
zone seriously. 


at hard-core paparazzi and even news — BLACK BOOK 
photographers. (Ege The am Quick reference 
повара ard denomination | | for stars cars 
Few thought the profession would | a 
survive such a thrashing, bur seven ycars and pool boys who | | numbers 
after Di Day it’s positively thriving. Give put you on the scent. 


some of the credit to magazine überdiva 
Bonnie Fuller. In 2002 she transformed 
Us Weekly from a dismal People 
wannabe into a snarky celebrity bible, 
only to decamp the following year to 
Star, a supermarket tabloid with its own 


glossy aspirations. As a result of the in- 

tense competition, prices have skyrock- ues 

eted: Covered shots of a celebrity couple ediingandtransferto | | GOURMET DOGGIE 

such as Cameron Diaz and Justin Tim- prospective buyers. | | TREAT It takes the 

berlake have ferched six-figure prices Asouseful for playing | | bestt stopa spoiled 
^ Bus Solitaire while waiting | | Hollywood guard dog 

Last year was the biggest for just for aging celebs to | | from gnawing on 
about everybody,” says Gary Morgan, emerge from Botox | | your femur. 
rector of Splash, a large paparazzi treatment. 


WINDOW CLEANER Maybe your 
Conscience isn't clear, but your 
windshield should be. 


agency. "People were getting $10,000 
for stuff thar the year before would've 
sold for $500.” 

The upshot? A flood of new photog- 
raphers, often novices recruited by the 
agencies, are handed a camera and a 
cell phone and set loose on the stars. 
Which isn't to say the paparazzi are sud- 
denly Hollywood's darlings. Quite the 
contrary—more than ever before, 
celebrities view them as stalkers with 
zoom lenses. It's a war our there. 

The hatred often runs deep. As fa- 
vorite paparazzi rarger Jim Carrey rold 
PLAYBOY, “They can't feel good abour 
whar rhey're doing. There will be a 
reckoning in their lives—some unex- 
plainable disease, something that makes 
them go, ‘Why me?’ I'm here to tell you, 
it's because of the choices you made.” 


COFFEE MUG For stay- 
ing awake until Shan- 
nen Doherty starts a 


three л.м. club brawl. 


CELEBRITY RAGS Essential for 
keeping track of who's hot with 
editors at the moment. Plus, did 
you see what Demi wore to that 
Charity event? Girlfriend, please! 


CHANGE HOLDER Don't miss a hot shot. 
because you re fumbling to feed the meter. 


Crowe, the subsequent dissolution of her marriage ro Dennis 
Quaid and recent rumors ofa less than convincing Botox over- 
haul have kept her hot with tabloid editors. Rylewski has shor 
her at least halfa dozen times in the past year. 
We creep along the fence toward a six-foot gare ar the rop of her 
driveway. “Stay ro this side,” he whispers, pointing our a secur- 
ity camera. He motions for me to peek over the gate with him. I 
hoist myself up, wondering whether the sight of America’s sweet- 
heart aiming a shorgun ar my face would make me laugh or ery. 
"Thar's her car, so she's here. Newspaper's still there 100, so 117 


LESSON NUMBER THREE: 
SHOOT 'EM ALL, LET THE BUYERS SORT IT OUT 


With the Mercedes out of commission, our paparazzi-mobile 
the next day is Rylewski’s second car—a green Toyota Camry. 
We pretend it doesn’t chap us to drive it through the gilded 
hills of Bel-Air, past ivy-covered stone walls hiding one man- 
sion after another, then park in front of Meg Ryan's house. 
Ryan isn’t a huge star these days, bur her tryst with Russell 


PAPARAZZI (^s 


she hasn't been our yet today.” We move the car 50 yards 
down an adjacent road. If we sit right outside her gate, he 
explains, she'll spot us as she leaves. 

Then we wait. Like cops on a stakeout, paparazzi do a 
lot of waiting. While we fidget in the cramped Camry, 
Rylewski describes the winding path that led him to Meg 
Ryan’s driveway this morning. 

“I wanted to be a journalist,” he says. He got the itch after 
getting bounced from the French army at the age of 20 and 
then spending two years traveling through Eastern Europe 
and Russia, selling pizzas from the back of a van he'd outfit- 
ted with a wood-burning stove. After vears on the road, 
fistfights with Russian gangsters and a stint in an Uzbek- 
istan jail for stealing artwork from a restaurant, he returned 
to Paris. An internship at a French news photo agency led to 
full-time work in theagency's New York office. Photography. 
became a sideline. He moved to L.A., where he shot studio 
stuff—bright-eyed actor-waiters in need of head shots—and 
worked the red carpet at movie premieres and parties. The 
money, though, was in paparazzi work 

“T ultimately want to work with them,” Rylewski says 
softly. “The stars. As a director.” The movie he made a few 
years ago, Killer Cop, is a straight-to-video action flick 
self-financed with money he inherited from his grand- 
mother. “I don’t know if I ever could, though, after doing 
this. The thing is..." 

Rylewski stops, glances in the rearview mirror and 
cranks the ignition. “That's her." 

Ryan's black Mercedes disappears down the road behind 
us. For a few seconds we do nothing, and I stifle an odd urge 
to shout, “We're losing her!” Then Rylewski turns the car 
around and follows, winding through the hills a bit before 
spotting the Mercedes rounding the bend in front of us. 

“That's what you want,” Rylewski explains. “When you 
see just the tail end, you see them, bur they don't see you." 

Stealth is vital to good paparazzi photography. An unde- 
tected photographer can snag a star in unguarded (prefer- 
ably incriminating) moments, while one who has been 
spotted often must settle for bland, camera-conscious pho- 
tos—or deal with a star actively thwarting his efforts. 

We merge onto busier city streets. Ryan parks near a 
bookstore, and Rylewski drives past, stopping at the end of 
a row of cars. He grabs his camera, a $5,000 Canon digital 
with a $2,000 lens, lowers his seat, aims through the side 
window and begins popping off shots as she enters the 
bookstore. Minutes later, on her way out, she seems to be 
covering her face with her hand. 

“She may have spotted us," Rylewski says. “She has a 
very good eye." 

His suspicion is 
confirmed by the 
series of swift rurns 
Ryan makes down 
narrow side streets. 
We roll through red 
lights in pursuit but. 
appear to have lost 
her. On instinct 
Rylewski cuts be 
hind a building, 
slices through an 
alley at 60 miles an 
hour and emerges YOU'VE BEEN CLICK'D: Contrary to 
(continued on page 142) popular perception, stealth is essential. 


UNLEASH YOUR C 


T. RUN WILD IN NEW WARM-WEATHER WEAR 


photography by nick cardillicchio / produced by jennifer ryan jones. 


When the weather's hot 
and sticky, beat the beastly 
heat with clothes that 
work in and out of the 
gym. After all, sports 
ranks as the second all- 
time favorite leisure 
activity of summer. THIS 
PAGE: Blue Man's warm- 
up jacket ($80) and 
shorts ($40) are by 
Reebok I3. His high-tops 
are by Jordan ($80), and 
his antigravity device—a 
titanium dive watch—is by 
Oris ($1,295). Breakette is 
ina skirt by D&G ($235), a 
halter top by Parasuco 
($40) and shoes by 
XOXO ($72). 


The left winger is wear- 
ing a soccer top by 
Vokál ($75) and jeans 
by Varcity ($63). His 
watch is by Oris 

($2,125). At right, Mr. 
Steredown is in a sweat- 
shirt ($74) and jeans 
($68) by Akademiks and 
a T-shirt by Etnies ($19). 
The new trend is to push 
the denim envelope 
beyond the rinses and 
distressing techniques of 
the past. These jeans use 
patchwork seams for a 
funked-up feel. Call it 
ribbed for her visual 
pleasure. 


THAT PAGE: Fake-Rod 
wears a sleeveless top. 
by Adidas ($35). His 
fleece baseball pants 
are by Pony ($70), and 
his off-road sneakers 
are by Geox ($115). 
Number 72 is ina 
jacket by Eckored ($79), 
a bra by H&M ($13), 

a skirt by Parasuco 
($70) ard sandals by 
Via Spiga ($165). 


WOMENS STILING EY NERIEM ORLET 


THIS PAGE: Did you call 
my fighting technique 
rhythmic gymnastics. 
punk? In midair Jackie 
Sham readies for the 
Olympics in a red, white 
and blue mesh shirt by 
Adidas ($45), draw- 
string pants by Under 
Armour ($50) and 
nylon sneakers by 
Converse ($40). 
Crouching Tiger is па 
T-shirt by Under 
Armour ($25), a tank by 
Southshore Soldiers 
($13), shorts by Adidas 
($30) and sneakers by 
Jordan ($100). His bag 
is by Avirex ($32). 


WHERE AND HOW TO BUY ON PAGE 153, 


Great Dan is in a henley tee by 
G ($175). pants by Anoname 
$90) and suspenders by 
Trafalgar ($140). His camo-print 
trucker hat is by e 
Soldiers ($11), his ring—in 14- 
karat gold and red car paint—is 
by House of Done ($1,800), and 
his leather sneakers are by. 
Timberland ($76). Here's a 
summer fashion question for the 
ladies: What's the point of wear- 
ing panties if you're not going to 
show them off? The Answer is 
wearing a dress by Rubit 
($850) and sandals 


"Moose, fetch me a hot chick." 
Good dog. At left, about to con- 
gratulate his pooch, Mr. Tricky is in 
a Мас polo by ($54), 
a yellow T-shirt by А 
($32), cargo pants with attached 
belt by S t ($65) and suede 
sneakers by Pony ($50). At right, 
Fratboy Slim wears cargo pants 
($58) and a navy polo ($45) by 
The T-shirt 
underneath ($19) and his sneakers 
($55) are by Etnles. The leggy 
lassie is in a top by T 
($25), a skirt by ($25) and 
shoes by XOXO ($76). 


126 


Гэ 
HOMME 


тт 
ча in Ed ` 3 SENSITIVE SKIN 
Bi = SHAVING FOAM 
aqu È 007 © 
alu: t EHE 
Š ine d i & 
= EAE É ù awe 
х J — 


SHAVING >> Clockwise from top left: The shaver is a FreeGlider 6690 by Braun ($140). it has a five-minute quick-charge 
feature, can be used with or without its cord and employs refillable skin-conditioner cartridges. The aftershave balm by the 
Art of Shaving ($37) contains lavender oil. Biotherm Homme makes the sensitive-skin shaving foam ($15). The cleansing shave 
gel is AlphaGel by King of Shaves ($5). The botarical preshave oil is by Zirh Prepare ($15). 


STYLE BEGINS EVEN BEFORE YOU PUT ON YOUR CLOTHING 


ETERNITY 


for men 


NBWSNINVIO 
SN» 


SKIN CARE >> These days men are expected to do more than just rinse off and roll. At far left is Eternity face moisturizing 
formula by Calvin Klein ($18). The blue pump bottle contains Aramis's Lab Series for Men cleanser ($14), for scrubbing away the 
dirt. The small jar of anti-puff eye gel is by La Prairie ($125) and helps reduce circles under your eyes. The larger jar is Clinique's 
hydrating skin cream ($75), which diffuses redness. At bottom right is a tube of exfoliating face scrub by Clarins Men ($16). 


Fashion by JOSEPH DE ACETIS 


Photography by JAMES IMBROGNO 
Produced by JENNIFER RYAN JONES 


Е Sos 82 этр 
253855 220 
2355 2 
RUE RRP 


q 


BATHING >> Clockwise from top left: Aramis's Lab Series offers Ab Rescue gel ($30) to tighten skin around your stom- 
ach. The deodorant stick is Happy Me Pit Guard by Sharps ($10). Leave the baby shampoo to babies—this Invigorating Body 
Shampoo by Aramis ($13) is made for grown-ups. Axe body spray ($5) can be used all over, and it fights underarm odor to 


boot. Nautica's soap ($13) may be on a rope, but it has been updated with olive oil and sea salt. 
PLAYBOY 
FASHION 


FRAGRANCE >> Find a signature scent—or two. Clockwise from top left: Echo is spicy, with hints of wood and leather; it's 
by Davidoff ($59). Curve Crush, by Liz Claiborne ($48), beckons girls with the aromatic freshness of basil and ginger. Creed 
makes Epicea ($180), which offers a mix of exotic spices and Russian pine essence. Guerlain's Vetiver ($41) is a limited edition 
eau de toilette perfect for the season. The iconic alligator adorns Lacoste's refreshing, summery eau de toilette ($54) 


WHERE AND HOW TO BUY ON PAGE 153. 


127 


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Christina Applegate 


PLAYBOY'S 


200 


Anchorman's newsgal gives us the scoop on Will 
Ferrell’s mustache and cussing in nursery school 


1 


PLAYBOY: Your new comedy, Anchorman, 
is setin the freewheeling 1970s. What's 
your disco-era time-travel fantasy? 
APPLEGATE: Studio 54. I never got to go 
because, well, 1 was six years old. I'd 
get wasted and dance and watch peo- 
ple have sex. How cool would that be? 
Of course, most of those people ended 
up dead or in rehab, but it would be 
fun to go once just to see the debauch- 
ery. It doesn't happen anymore. Or 
maybe it does, but I have no clue where 
they're holding that particular party. 


2 


PLAYBOY: You play an ambitious TV 
reporter fighüng Will Ferrell's male 
chauvinist pig broadcaster. Do you 
think Barbara Walters got her fanny 
slapped back in the day? 

APPLEGATE: Well, Jessica Savitch was one 
of the first female anchors, in the 1970s 
in Philadelphia. There are these in- 
credible tapes of when they would leave 
the camera running between segments. 
"They're all smiles, and then the news- 
cast gocs off and you can feel the peck- 
ing order. You can feel that she was the 
low figure on the totem pole and wasn't 
going to win with these men. 


3 


PLAYBOY: When you travel to different 
cities, do you tune in to local news? 
APPLEGATE: Oh yeah. It’s hysterical. It's 
like a time warp. They think everything 
they're saying is really charming and 
funny, and it's so sad. But they definitely 
have less entertainment value than our 
news in Los Angeles. Here the top story 
is “Pamela Anderson got another boob 
job! She took out her implants and then 
put 'em back in! All in one weekend!” 


4 


PLAYBOY: Does Will Ferrell, to crib his 
line from Zoolander, take crazy pills? 


Interview by Robert Abele 


APPLEGATE: I don't think he takes crazy 
pills as much as he has an incredible 
imagination. He goes beyond what you 
think a character should be thinking 
and into the whole spectrum of what 
the character could possibly think in 
six lifetimes. His improvs are so out 
there, you go, “How the fuck did you 
come up with that?" That's why you 
watch Old School 50 times—because 
you're just trying to get to the Will Fer- 
rell parts. I think he’s a genius. 


5 


PLAYBOY: And yet he doesn't seem like 
the typical tortured comedian. 
APPLEGATE: Not at all. The difference 
with tortured comedians is that you 
can tell they're not connecting with 
other actors. All they want is for you to 
look at them—"Look at me! Look at 
me! Look at mel” 


6 


rLAyBoy: What was it like to pucker up 
to Ferrell with his industrial-strength 
Anchorman mustache? 

APPLEGATE: Foul. There’s a scene in the 
movie when we finally get together, and 
it’s supposed to be the Tracy-and-Hep- 
burn moment, like Bogie and Bacall, 
except when you see me I’m not even 
touching his lips. 1 thought, Christina, 
why weren't you submerged in the mo- 
ment? Because that mustache was so 
prickly. Subconsciously I didn’t want to 
touch his mouth. Look, guys, pubes on 
your face that thick? It's horrible. 


7 


PLAYBOY: In the battle of the sexes, 
what's your weapon of choice? 

APPLEGATE: I don't want to have a piss- 
ing contest with a man. I find that when 
women embrace their womanhood, the 
battle is over, because y'all can't live 
without us. We went through a period 
when women were trying to be a little 
too masculine. What if we had a bunch 


of guys trying to be more feminine to fit 
in with us? We like the maleness of 
men—the take-charge, take-care-of- 
everything attitude. 


8 


PLAYBOY: What other male stereotype 
do you find accurate? 

APPLEGATE: Sports guys and ball scratch- 
ing. They just seem to go hand in 
hand, so to speak. 


9 


PLAYBOY: What's the status of sexism in 
Hollywood today? 

APPLEGATE: Everyone's trying to be po- 
litically correct, but when it comes down 
to it, women aren't treated equally in 
this business. With every script, it’s 
“We've got to find the guy first, because 
the guy brings legitimacy to the pro- 
ject.” During rehearsals, ideas and 
rewrites are constantly geared toward 
what the man has to say. It’s a subtle 
difference, and I have never been 
treated poorly by any men, But in the 
scripts I'm getting I'm not seeing any- 
thing that hasn’t been done 5,000 times 
before. Predictable female roles. 


10 


ылувоу: Does it make you happy that 
Cameron Diaz now commands $20 
million a picture? 

APPLEGATE. Of course I'm happy. She's 
one of my dearest friends. Cameron 
Diaz deserves $20 million a picture 
because she brings in more than $20 
million a picture. She's worked hard 
and has a quality about her that people 
fall in love vith. So hey, give her the 
$20 million. I will say that it makes me 
sad that the Kate Winslets of the world 
don't get $20 million a picture. 


11 


PLAYBOY: You started in showbiz when 
you were very young. Whar's your earliest 
acting memory? (continued on page 153) 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY САЯТ STREIBER/ICON 


131 


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MP 


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p. iem. 

V. S À 
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eta Wilson has built a Hollywood 
resume conspicuously lacking in the 
typical girlfriend and damsel-in-distress 
roles, and that's fine by her. "I like going 
for it,” she says in her distinctively 
breathy voice. "When I'm 85 I'd like to 
beable to have my great-grandchildren 
say, ‘Wow, | can't believe that was you.’ 
It's thrilling to walk on the edge to some- 
where you'd never go in your own life.” 

For the statuesque 33-year-old, this 
has included playing Dracula's vampire 
bride in The League of Extraordinary 
Gentlemen, a lesbian seductress in 
Mercy and, of course, the sexy title 
assassin of TV's La Femme Nikita. 
When the popular cable show about a 
falsely convicted murderer forced to 
become a government spy wound down 
in 2000 after four seasons, the network 
received more than 25,000 protest let- 
ters, which inspired Peta to return for 
eight more episodes. "I was so touched 
that | agreed to do it to tie up some 
loose ends forthe fans,” she says. "And: 
I'm still open to doing that character if 
they want me to. Nikita was a beauty— 
her vulnerability was her power." 

To prepare for Nikita's backstory as a 
drug-addicted street denizen, Peta 
spent six weeks hanging out with the 
"wolves" on the streets of L.A. and New 
York. Similarly, she immersed herself in 
S&M dungeons and even hired a dom- 
inatrix to prepare for her steamy role in 
the 2000 erotic thriller Mercy. "That is 
my favorite movie to date," she says. 
“My father rented the video and rang 
me. | hadn't encouraged him to see it, 
because | kiss Ellen Barkin and there 
are other things going on, so | tried to 
change the conversation. But he said, 'l 
got sucked into the film and really 
believed you. Within the first minute I 
forgot you were my daughter.’ | thought 
that was a great compliment.” 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY PATRICK DEMARCHELIER 


, 


PETA'S PEAK PERFORMANCES 
Peta begon her career as a madel, then faund 
her graove as an actress. Clockwise from top 
left: Miss Wilson as gun-tating Lo Femme Niki- 
ta; a sexy mament on the Nikita set; sharing the 
screen with Shane West (ен) and Sean Can- 
nery in The League af Extraordinary Gentlemen. 


A 


135 


Born in Australia, Peta spent large 
chunks of her childhood with her mili- 
tary family in Papua New Guinea, some- 
times staying eight weeks at a time on 
a houseboat, exploring remote South 
Pacific islands. “My brother and | were 
exposed to a pretty intense, primal kind 
of healthy human behavior,” she says. 
“We got a sense of what it feels like to 
be different, and we were absolutely 
loved for it. You would have thought we 
were gods the way the natives treated 
us. They taught me fearlessness.” Back 
in Australia Peta's family encouraged 
her to nourish her creative impulses as 
well. “My mother's side was a big, loud 
Irish family. They constantly imperson- 
ated one another,” she says. “When I 
was at an early age, my grandfather 
had me up on the table, doing little 
dances and telling stories.” 

Now living in Los Angeles, Peta says 


home will always be down under. “I've 
got 10 acres on the beach six hours 
north of Sydney, in a town of 3,000 
people," she says. "It's nice and quiet. 
There's lots to do but not a lot to con- 
tend with. In this little town of Los 
Angeles there are a few more films 
going on, so I'm here at the moment. A 
lot of things are bubbling away in differ- 
ent stages of eruption. | just read a 
‘script featuring an otherworldly charac- 
ter. I think it would be so much fun to 
play her because it's something people 
would say women don't do.” 

After La Femme Nikita ended, Peta 
took the opportunity to have a child. 
“He's my little king in the making,” she 
says. “I've always been a strong woman. 
Some people describe me as a broad. 
I've always liked men, of course; I'm 
definitely a healthy heterosexual girl. 
But after having a baby boy, | think I'm 


going to understand men a lot better 
and love them all the more because 
Гуе got one of my own now.” Another 
man in her life is Steve, her cherished 
1964 Mustang fastback. “It's like the 
mode! from Bullitt, so it's named after 
Steve McQueen,” she says. “It's great. 
It idles at 25. My father and | sort of 
collect cars together, but | sold my 
1958 Chevy Impala, Lucille. At the mo- 
ment |'m not indulging in extravagant 
treats. | have Steve and my baby, and 
that's plenty.” 

As much as guys appreciate that 
classic car, when Peta emerges from 
the driver's seat all eyes are on her. 
“Sometimes fans look at you as if 
you're this extraordinary thing. It's 
really flattering, but it's a projection 
from them onto me,” she says. "I don't 
feel as if l'm anything special. l'm just a 
normal girl living out a big dream." 


“I don’t think you should 
be cruel to anyone—animal 
or person," Peta says. And yes, 
she has been approached by 
PETA to join the cause. 
“But I wear leather shoes _ 
and eat lamb chops. I don’t Y 
L 


to be a hypocrite.” 


«Е 
= | 


“What really made me want to do PLAYBOY was finding out that 
Patrick Demarchelier was the photographer," Peta explains. 
“] said, “Work for an iconic magazine, look like an icon and 
be photographed by an icon? Yeah, now is the time to do it.’” 


TEE tt ti amm 


PLAYBOY 


142 


APARAZZI nina fon poge 118) 


“I take offense when someone calls me paparazzi. 
I'm not comfortable invading somebody's privacy." 


on the other side just in time to sce her 
parking again, in front ofa salon. 

We position the Camry so we'll have 
an unobstructed angle of Ryan as she 
leaves. Rylewski spritzes his windows 
with Windex. Forty minutes later Ryan 
heads down the sidewalk straight to- 
ward us. Rylewski clicks off a blur of 
photos, ducking as she gets close and 
instructing me to do the same. Granted, 
Гуе hidden my face while watching a 
few Meg Ryan flicks, but a weck ago I 
don't think I could have imagined a 
reason I'd be hiding from Ryan herself. 

"Though the photos arer't particularly 
newsworthy—hell, she's not actually 
doing anything—they are exclusives, a 
precious commodity in this town. 
Which isn't to say they'll necessarily 
sell: This week's demand could depend 
on whether Britney hogs the space by 
getting married again or some TV star 
is snapped coming out ofrehab. 

Once or twice a week Rylewski trans- 
mits recent catches to photo cditors at 
the tabloids and glossies. If they're. 
interested, negotiations begin. Persian 
bazaar-style haggling can ensue, though 
in most cases the worth of a particular 
set of photos is clear to both sides. 

As the sole full-time employee of his 
own agency, Rylewski is something ofa 
dinosaur. Most L.A. paparazzi are now 
concentrated in four large agencies: 
Splash, Bauer-Griffin, Fame and X17. 
They have the budgets to wine and 
dine editors, hire sales staff and even 
pay their shooters something akin to a 
salary. The trade-offis that big paydays 
are split with the agency. Disputes over 
commissions are common, which is 
why Rylewski went his own way. 

Given the bigger-is-better trend, 
going solo was a shaky proposition. 
Rylewski lacked contacts and much 
credibility. That all changed when he 
snapped exclusive shots of Nicole Kid- 
man and Tobey Maguire together. It 
was Kidman’s first suspected fling 
after her marriage to Tom Cruise 
had gone splat. Rylewski sold the 
photos for $87,000. 

"It changed my life,” he says. 


LESSON NUMBER FOUR: 

USE THE LOCAL TALENT 
Later that afternoon, amid a steady 
drizzle, we pull to the curb in front ofa 
burger joint on San Vicente in Brent- 
wood. On the sidewalk is a husky black 
fellow with a yellow front tooth and a 
cardboard sign that reads VIETNAM VET. 


NEED FOOD. ANY MONEY APPRECIATED. 

“Hey, Green,” Rylewski greets the 
man amiably. “Seen anyone good 
today?” 

"Nah, it's been quiet.” 

A homeless guy who keeps an eye 
peeled for celebrities—now that's L.A. 
Green has current copies of Us Weekly 
and In Touch stuffed in the pockets of 
his ragged jacket. A hands-free cell 
phone earpiece dangles from under his 
baseball hat, near his left ear. And 
when he dips his sign I see scrawled on 
the back a crib sheet of celebrities’ cars 
and plate numbers. 

Green has been hanging around this 
corner for 11 years. “About five years 
ago a guy comes up and asks if I ever 
see stars,” he explains. “I tell him 1 see 
them all the time. He gives me his busi- 
ness card and some cash. Tells me to 
call him when I see someone. So I di 

Since then Green has become a val- 
ued paparazzi asset. Rylewski pays him 
for tips and occasionally buys him 
lunch to keep him happy. I ask Green 
about the bulging folder under his 
arm, and he opens it. It’s filled with 
paparazzi photos clipped from tabloids 
featuring him panhandling celebrities. 

“That's me and Jim Carrey,” Green 
says. “That’s me and Van Damme. 
They were setups. The photographer 
had me set them up.” A picture of a 
star handing a homeless guy money is, 
after all, worth more than a star walk- 
ing down the street. 

Green is just one of the town’s street- 
level reconnaissance corps—doormen, 
valets, security guards, waiters and, 
yes, homeless people on the lookout 
and on the take, who trade celebrity co- 
ordinates for cold hard cash and keep 
the paparazzi machine running hot. 

“What you see is everything,” Rylew- 
ski reminds me, “You just have to turn 
it into gold." 

We ask Green if he wants to join us 
for a burger, but he declines. “It’s rain- 
ing,” he says. “That's gonna be bad for 
business. I’m gonna go watch some 
movies, study some faces.” 


LESSON NUMBER FIVE: 

DON'T UPSET THE HERD. 
Paparazzi has become a tag for all 
celebrity snappers, but there's a dis- 
tinction between hard-core gotcha 
paparazzi such as Rylewski and the 
photographers who line the red car- 
pet at movie premieres and other star- 


studded events, A big distinction, if you 
ask them. 

"I take offense when someone calls 
me paparazzi,” says Lester Cohen, a 
celebrity photographer and one of the 
founders of Wirelmage, a top photo 
agency. “That's somebody who's not in- 
vited in, who'll go to any lengths to get 
the photo. I'm not comfortable invad- 
ing somebody's privacy.” 

The disrespect is mutual. "They're 
just button pushers," Rylewski snorts. 
“It’s so easy—you know the stars will be 
there on the carpet. Yet they're so seri- 
ous, all those ants running around." 

I check out this other, shiny side of 
the coin for myself by hitting the red 
carpet at the Starsky & Hutch premiere. 
At sundown I'm among a teeming 
mass of photographers herded into a 
makeshift pen outside the Westwood 
Village Theater entrance. Most carry 
step stools and at least two large cam- 
cras. I'm armed with a skimpy 35 mil- 
limeter I got for my birthday a few 
years ago. 

The pen is separated from the immi- 
nent celebrity parade by a waist-high 
steel barrier. All the choice positions 
along the front are taken, so I camp be- 
hind a large woman, a spot everyone 
else seems to be avoiding. The tight 
space is illuminated by klicg lights and 
thick with body odor. 

"Are you a photographer?" the 
woman asks, glancing dismissively at 
my camera. 

“Yep.” 

She rolls her eyes. 

Then comes the cavalcade of “stars.” 
People named Michael Cera and Kelly 
Rowan are preceded down the carpet 
by publicists, who helpfully inform us 
who the hell they are. Then the yelling. 

“Kelly! Kelly! Over here!” 

“Kelly, you look beautiful!” 

That's nothing compared with what 
happens when recognizable faces start 
to saunter in. Ben Stiller arrives to a 
mob scene; photographers literally 
climb over each other to get their 
shots. But when I press against the 
large woman in front of me she spins 
around with a swiftness of which I nev- 
er imagined her capable. 

“Don't...lean...on...me.” 

I smile, assuming she's just hazing 
the new guy. She glowers back to let me 
know she's serious. A photographer 
dashes from one end of the pen to the 
other, shouting, "Get out of my way! 
Get out of my way!" 

"rhe absurdity of this venture is that 
the stars are posing just a few feet 
away! Each celebrity spins around for 
each knot of photographers, offering 
whatever angles they want. The 
screaming and jostling are little more 
than a ritual intended to manufacture 
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“You should have mentioned you were afraid of 
heights on your resume.” 


143 


PLAYBOY 


will be repeated a couple hundred times 
this year. 

When Stiller and co-star Owen Wilson 
start mugging together on the carpet, the 
pandemonium escalates until I'm con- 
vinced the entire pen is going to sponta- 
neously combust. The movie? Somebody 
told me later it was okay if you weren't 
expecting too much. 


Rylewski and I spend seven hours the 
next day cruising around Beverly Hills, 
staking out stars' houses and getting 
squat for our trouble. 

Around four РМ. our luck turns. We 
catch Michacl Douglas and Prince (not 
together, unfortunately) at the Beverly 
Hills Hotel. We snap Robert Downey Jr. 
reading Star at a clothing shop in Sunset. 
Plaza. (“That's a sure seller. They love to 
see celebs reading their mag.") Then we 
catch Paris Hilton's sex video co-star, 
Rick Solomon, in the parking lot. (^Sur- 
prisingly, he sometimes sells.") We spy 
James Woods outside a hotel. All this in 
little more than an hour. 

In Green Hills of Africa, a memoir 
about big-game hunting, Ernest Hem- 
ingway describes “the nervous exhilara- 
tion, like a laughing drunk, that a 
sudden idiotic abundance” of ordinarily 
rare game makes. We're similarly glow- 
ing from our windfall. 

We head toward Ashton Kutcher's 
house. Photos of him with Demi Moore 
and her kids regularly fetch $10,000. On 
the way Rylewski notices a party rental 
truck emerging from a leafy side street. 

“Paul McCartney lives up there. ГЇ 
bet he’s having a party,” he says. Sure 
enough, McCartney's front gate is 
buzzing with activity. We pull past, 
attracting the attention of some well- 
dressed security guards. “It's only six 
pM. We'll check for Kutcher and then 
come back.” 

Kutcher's place yields nothing, so after 
scarfing down some takeout we head 


back to Sir Paul's estate. We trudge up the 
street toward the gates and are met by a 
phalanx of security guards in overcoats. 

“Can we help you?” 

“No,” Rylewski answers without 
looking up. 

“This street's closed. Private party.” 

“Do you have a permit for this?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay,” Rylewski says without missing 
a beat. “Let's see it.” 

Surprisingly important to paparazzi 
work is knowing the law. Although you 
aren't allowed to shoot on someone's pri- 
vate property, you cannot be ejected from 
a public place simply for taking pictures. 
And closing the street requires a permit. 
Nonetheless security is not amused. 

“How about we call the cops and have 
you arrested?” 

Rylewski doesn’t flinch. “Go ahead. 
Bring the permit or bring the cops.” 

We hear a voice crackle over their ra- 
dios: “We've got two guys here refusing 
to leave. Call the police. They're going 
to jail.” 

I shuffle my feet. Although I'm fairly 
certain we'd be among the tougher char- 
acters in the Beverly Hills lockup, I'm 
not eager to put this theory to the test. I 
take out my notebook and start scrib- 
bling, hoping to look like the sort of 
muckraking reporter who shouldn't be 
messed with. Nobody notices. A guy ina 
blue coat descends the hill. 

“Who are you?” Rylewski asks. 

"I'm the policeman who'll take you to 
jail if you dont leave." He shoves a piec 
of paper at Rylewski. It’s the party permit. 

We slink back down the hill, defeated. 


LESSON NUMBER SEVEN: TRUST NO ONE 


The next morning we catch Tara Reid 
canoodling with an anonymous guy in a 
baseball cap over brunch at a Sunset 
Boulevard cafe, then we spend the after- 
noon in Malibu. With its sunny, vacation- 
community vibe, it's a nice change from 
the city bustle yet still blessed with a 
higher ratio of celebs per square foot 


than just about anywhere else on the 
planet. We cruise the parking lots in the 
Malibu Country Mart shopping center 
until Rylewski gets a call from a guy who 
used to work for him: Something is hap- 
pening at Ralphs, the supermarket 
around the corner. 

In some ways L.A. paparazzi are a 
tightly knit community. They are mostly 
foreign born and male and all seem to 
know one another. That doesn't mean 
they like one another. Competition leads 
to a never-ending tangle of squabbles, 
many of them personal. Still, there's a 
camaraderie based in part on their being 
privy to this shadowy parallel universe 
that hides in plain sight. 

We scope Ralphs but find nothing. "It 
may have been a trick,” Rylewski says. 
We return to the Country Mart to see 
Nicole Richie caught in a paparazzi cross 
fire outside a pet store. Moments later 
we run into the photographer who had 
provided the bogus tip. 

“Sorry,” he says, leaning out his win- 
dow with a sly grin. “Did I say Ralphs? I 
meant the pet store. My bad.” 

Rylewski is only mildly annoyed—this 
cat-and-mouse game comes with the 
territory. Richie by herself isn't a big 
seller anyway. The real money is in 
shots of celebrity couplings, stars with 
their families and, best of all, freaky 
celebrity rendezvous. 

Rylewski gets a call from another 
shooter, this one looking to sell some 
photos without the knowledge of his 
agency, which he's convinced is screwing 
him out of commissions by underreport- 
ing his sales. It's a common complaint 
that's difficult to verify, since photos are 
often sold multiple times, all over the 
world and in perpetuity. 

The transaction has the surreptitious 
feel of a drug deal. In the back of his van 
the photographer hands Rylewski the 
flash card from his camera. Rylewski in- 
serts it into his laptop and transfers the 
photos, then pays him $200, promising 
more if the pictures sell, 


zu 
GEE, IF THAD 
KNOWN THAT I 


The moral: You have no friends, only 
those who haven't screwed you over yet. 


LESSON NUMBER EIGHT: 
SHOOTING IS A DRUG 
Certain things become second nature the 
longer you do this. For one, I've started 
looking at people’s faces much more 
closely. It pays off when I spot Alanis 
Morissette walking into a Malibu taqueria. 

“Where?” Rylewski asks. 

“To our right. Brown shirt. She looks 
different because her hair is short,” I say 
with authority. 

He seems impressed. “You want to 
take the photos?” 

It’s graduation day. My immediate im- 
pulse is to whip out the camera and start 
firing, but Rylewski cautions against it. 
“She'll probably eat at one of those out- 
side tables. That's your best shot.” 

As we cruise the lot for a few minutes, I 
worry we'll lose her. But when we return 
to the taqueria she's just sitting down. I 
slouch in the backseat. Rylewski's camera 
js unexpectedly heavy. I hoist it to the 
window. The zoom makes Morissette ap- 
pear so close that I pull my eye away to 
confirm she hasn't moved right outside 
my window. I focus. Pop-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa- 
pa-pop. The camera shoots eight frames a 
second, which makes taking photos feel 
like firing an assault rifle. But as 1 cap- 
ture her famous face chewing a burrito I 
feel neither shame nor self-loathing. In 
fact, I'm pretty pumped. Screw Jim Car- 
rey and his paparazzi curse. 

Later that day I spot Adam Sandler, 
a.k.a. Mr. Reclusive, behind the wheel. I 
snap him picking something up at his 
gym. The next day it's Mel Gibson, an 
ascendant target thanks to his block- 
buster Jesus flick. With each success the 
base appeal becomes clearer: the thrill of 
the catch. 

“This job is like a drug,” Rylewski says. 
“You wait, but you're in suspense. You're 
like a pelican looking through the water. 
‘Then all ofa sudden you go get the fish. 
I work seven days a week, 365 days a 
year. To me every hour the sun is shining 
is an hour I could be taking some star's 
reflection in my camera.” 

Refueling at a gas station I ask him if 
the whole idea—chasing movie actors 
around—ever seems silly. 

“No,” he says defensively. “Why? Do 
you feel silly2” 

Rylewski's bravado notwithstanding, 
his chosen profession causes personal ten- 
sion. His live-in girlfriend, a casting agent 
for a Hollywood studio, keeps the dirty 
secret from her co-workers. His parents 
hate it. Doesn't it bother him to be a leper? 

"Yeah," he says after a long pause. “1 
can understand why people say we're 
scumbags. But I wouldn't do something 
to someone that I wouldn't like done to 
me.” Besides, paparazzi exist only be- 
cause people want them to. 

“I don't understand what the problem 
is,” says Peter Grossman, senior photo 


editor at Us Weekly. “The public wants to 
see celebs like this. These guys are just 
doing a job, a service. I'd bet the average 
American could relate more to the papa- 
razzi than to a movie star.” 


LESSON NUMBER NINE: 
CLICK HARD WITH A VENGEANCE 
Which brings us back to where we started: 
Bruce Willis. Sure, we're still literally 
dripping with his disdain, but if I've 
learned anything this week it's that the 
only guarantee in paparazzi work is that 
giving up will get you nothing. As we jump 
out and follow, a passerby hisses, "Why 
don't you leave him alone?” Willis ducks 
into a clothing store where his daughters 
are shopping. A store employee closes 
the door, so Rylewski shoots through the 
window. Another photographer pulls up 

but stays in his car. 

Willis's daughters exit the shop giggling 
and dash to their car, multi ionaire 
A-list dad in tow. Rylewski instinctively 
stations himself between them and the 
other paparazzo, obstructing his rival's 
shot. We tail W; car a few blocks until 
it's clear he's headed home. 


day when T told youguys to © 
be fruitful and multiply Y 


“My fucking flash card ran out,” 
Rylewski says. “I don't think I got him 
and his daughters together. That was the 
goddamn money shot.” 

The mishap is costly: Our Willis pic- 
tures don't sell. In fact, from our week's 
work only two sets of pictures sell domes- 
tically: In Touch buys the Meg Ryan pho- 
tos for $750, and Star buys the Robert 
Downey Jr. photos for $1,500. That'll just 
about cover the SUV repair bill. 

But as we climb through the foothills 
of the Santa Monica mountains back 
toward Hollywood, his shirt still damp 
from Willis's shower, Rylewski's spirits 
are high. 

“Did 1 ever tell you about my time in 
the army?” he asks. “My unit was called 
the Alpine Hunters. I hated it, got 
kicked out after eight months. But most 
of the techniques I'm using now I 
learned in the army—how to follow peo- 
ple, avoid being seen. 

“Our unit's motto was ‘Hunter one day, 
hunter forever,” he continues, chuckling. 
“That's what I do now. I hunt.” 


S 


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145 


LA CONTE „аео 


Now as they descended, LeFewvre could see the ocean 
heaving, splitting and pulling apart in craters. 


need them for reference. Otherwise you 
won't see the water. You won't see any- 
thing. It’s all black out there. No light. 
No light at all.” 


They were on the scene at 12:52 A-M., in 
complete darkness. 

They roared directly over the fly-to 
position that had been radioed to them 
as the second Jayhawk flew back to Sitka. 
"They were warned not to expect the sur- 
vivors to be there, since the drift was so 
strong. But they had to start looking 
somewhere. 

Torpey steadied the aircraft, and the 
Jayhawk’s nose was pointed squarely 
into the wind. They had been pushed 
seven miles off the fly-to position by 110- 
mile-an-hour winds. 

“What's our air speed?” 

“Eighty-two knots.” 


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“What's our ground speed?” 

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“Jes 

it felt as though they were riding a 
roller coaster, with rushes and sudden 
swoops and plunges, and cach time the 
helicopter dropped sharply LeFeuvre 
felt a hollowing-out sensation in the pit 
of his stomach. Torpey pushed the en- 
gines to 145 knots, and they began mov- 
ing forward over the ocean at a speed of 
25 knots. 

LeFeuvre thought of the air rushing at 
them as a kind of river, so wide that if he 
were ina canoe he would not be able to 
make out either shoreline from the mid- 
dle. Torpey instructed Fred Kalt and 
Lee Honnold, the two crew members in 
the cabin behind him, to begin to pre- 
pare for hoisting. 

“Lee,” Kalt said, “ 


start handing me 


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offa couple of flares." 

LeFeuvre glanced back and saw Kalt 
and Honnold tying chemical lights to the 
rescue basket. It was like something 
from a sci-fi movie: the silhouettes of two 
kneeling, helmeted figures hunched 
over a shiny metal cage, bathed in an 
eerie green glo 


m going to descend to 


"Roger that." 

Until then they had snatched only 
glimpses of the waves. But now as they 
descended, LeFeuvre could sce the ocean 
heaving, splitting and pulling apart in 
craters. So that’s why the beacon signal 
keeps coming in and out, he thought. 
The waves were blocking the signal each 
time the EPIRB skidded into a trough or 
got swamped by a wave. Those seas must 
be huge, LeFeuvre said to himself. 

The helicopter was bouncing off gusts 
but crabbing forward cver so slowly. 
LeFeuvre was squinting and scanning 
the blackness, hoping for a glint or a 
flash or anything that would give them 
something to home in on. 

In the beam of the handheld search- 
light the sea looked as though it was boil- 
ing. At times they could make out a wave 


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below and aft, and sometimes they could 
see a wave before the nose of the Jay- 
hawk. But sometimes they saw nothing 
at all. There was no pattern. 

For several minutes Kalt crouched on 
the lip of the jump door, the sleet rat- 
tling on his visor, the roar of wind and 
turbines in his helmet. 

“Then he looked up at Honnold and said 
in a flat, emotionless voice, "I see them." 


The strobe slid beneath the helicopter. 
Around it, glinting in the searchlight, 
Honnold saw a gaggle of reflective tape. 
There could be two survivors, he 
thought. There could be five. 

Like a lineman sending a football 
through his legs for a field-goal attempt, 
Kalt snapped one, two, three Mark 25 
flares between his legs and out the door. 

“Flares away!” 

He spun around and leaned outsi 
Down below, the flares shot red-white 
flames across the black water. 

“Flares are in the water. Flares ignited.” 

In the pilot's seat Torpey saw none of 
this. Sleet blanketed his windscreen, and 
everything—the horizon, the sky, the 
water—had whited out. 

As he cased up on the controls to posi- 
tion the helicopter over the survivors, a 
gust threw the nose of the craft up 30 
degrees. The helicopter plummeted 
toward the water. In the co-pilot's seat 
LeFeuvre had no time to read their rate 
of descent; he had only enough time to 
react, to pull on the collective stick, 
which controlled the chopper's altitude. 

The radar altimeter was unwinding 
fast. 

We're backing down, he thought, the 
floor of the helicopter seeming to drop 
out from under him as it went down, 
down, faster and faster in a backward, 
plunging rush. Then came the screams. 

"Up!" 

"Alitude" 

"Emergency up!" 

"That was when LeFeuvre saw thc wave 
through his windscreen. 

It was all black except for the white 
line along the top, and it was closing and 
building with a petrifying smoothness of 
motion. When it was within 50 yards and 
LeFeuvre saw the flares embedded in 
the wave, spinning and shining silvery in 
the bright white light, he squeezed the 
collective stick harder, his eyes locked on 
the smoothly approaching darkness. 

“Lip!” 

“Up! Up!” 

The radar altimeter read 40 feet. Sec- 
onds passed. 

The altimeter still read 40. 

This can't be, LeFeuvre said to him- 
self, I'm pulling this helicopter up at full 
power. We should be going straight up. 

Then it hit him: They were going 
straight up. But below them the wave 
was rising at the same speed. 

Well, Lord, LeFeuvre said to himself, I 


am going to meet you now. But do I 
have to go out being cold and wet? 

At that instant the helicopter lurched 
skyward. The rogue wave broke just 
beneath it. 


By the time LeFeuyre arrested their 
ascent, the Jayhawk had climbed to 600 
feet above the ocean and sailed a mile 
downwind of the survivors. It took the 
crew another 10 minutes to get back to 
the scene. 

The Mark 25 flares were still visible, 
upwind of the strobe light. 

“Okay, guys,” Torpey said over the 
intercom. “Get those smokes ready. And 
this time, Fred, don't use any of those 
small flares, From now on all that go in 
the water are the big ones, the Mark 58s. 
Got that?” 

“Roger” 

"Iorpey went back to work. His move- 
ments are as crisp as they were at takeoff, 
LeFeuvre thought. They dumped seven 
Mark 58s. 

“That was good," Torpey said. "Okay, 
let's complete part two of the rescue check- 
list. We're going to do a basket hoist.” 

Honnold unhooked the rescue basket 
from the cargo straps and set it on deck. 
Kalt slid over to the ich. LeFeuvre 
flipped two toggle switches on the con- 
sole above his head, supplying power to 
the hoist.” 

"Fred," Torpey said to Kalt. 

“Sir?” 

“Get ready to work with me now, 
pey told him, “because you're goi 
see some pretty big changes in the way I 
fly this thing.” 

"The rescue basket was now swinging 
like a pendulum beneath the helicopter. 
Kalt just watched it swing and swing and 
swing until finally a wave smacked it into 
a trough and buried it under a cascade 
of water. 

“Is it in: 


“Basket's in the water!” 

Kneeling, the sweat running down his 
back, Kalt watched the green glow of the 
chemical sticks fade as the basket settled 
under the waves. 

He cleared his visor of sleet and 
looked down. The basket had resur- 
faced, The green glow was only about 
five yards from the flashing strobe. 

“Why aren't they climbing into it?” 
Honnold asked. He was lying spread- 
eagle on the deck, shining the handheld 
searchlight on the survivors. 

“Shit,” Honnold said. He was breath- 
ing heavily. "It's right there. It's right 
there in front of them." 

“Its sinking below the surface,” Kalt 
told him. “They can't see it.” He was think- 
ing he had never really эсеп waves before. 

Kalt threw the winch in reverse. They 
had been hoisting for more than 40. 
utcs. The first few drops had been 
almost laughable, but with the next 10 


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148 


tries Kalt was dragging the basket to 
within five yards of the survivors. 

While they got the basket ready again 
Тогреу worked as hard as he ever had in 
any helicopter. He was doing 30-degree- 
angle banks, lifting the helicopter's nose 
up, throwing it down, wrenching it hard 
right, left, then left again, then hard 
down, up, right, left, back, all to com- 
pensate for the gusts. He was also suffer- 
ing from what pilots call helmet fire. The 
inside of Torpey's helmet was soaked 
with so much sweat he had turned on 
the cockpit’s air-conditioning. 

Relax, he was saying to himself. Just 
take it easy. In the cabin, rescue swim- 
mer Mike Fish held new flares, and 
Honnold cut the bindings. They pulled 
the cylinders out of the canisters and 
handed them to Kalt, who turned the 
tabs to arm them and then laid them out 
on the deck, perpendicular to the door. 

The helicopter took an uppercut 
from a gust and the flares hopped 
around the cabin. 

“Okay,” Torpey said, “prepare to de- 
ploy flares. Okay. Drop! Drop! Drop!” 

“Flares have ignited,” he said in the 
deadpan voice that had intensified only 
slightly since they departed Sitka. 

“Captain LeFeuvre,” he heard Fish 
say, “watch our altitude, sir. We're now at 
72 feet.” 

“Thanks, Mike.” LeFeuvre pulled gen- 
Чу on the collective. "Taking us back up.” 

At times LeFeuvre could see tremen- 
dous streaks of foam being ripped off the 
wave crests and slung in long white 
lassos, and he noticed that Torpey was 


using those foamy streaks as references, 
angling the helicopter to keep the wind 
planing off the aircraft's nose. Then 
everything would go blindingly white 
again and he would have only the radar 
altimeter to focus on. 

Over the intercom he could hear Kalt 
mutter, "Uh-oh." The flight mechanic 
had just pitched the rescue basket out 
the jump door again. 

*Mr. Torpey?" Kalt said. 

"What?" 

“The basket is sailing from side to 
side." Kalt was hanging halfway out the 
door. They could hear his mouthpiece 
picking up the wind's howl. “The basket 
is flapping in all this wind. It's sailing aft 
at 45 degrees.” 

"What can I do?" asked Torpey. 

Kalt pulled himself into the cabin. 
“Let me get it in and wy again.” He 
threw the winch in reverse. “Go forward 
and right,” he said. 

They tried turning the helicopter a bit 
to create a lee, but that didn't work ei- 
ther. Over and over Kalt threw the bas- 
ket out, hoping the gusts would stop, 
trying to time it so the wind would not 
fling the cage into the tail rotor. But on 
the rare occasions that the basket did hit. 
the water it bounced and twirled from 
crest to trough, appearing and disap 
pearing in the foam-laced swells. 

Torpey was really laying into the con- 
trols now, no longer banking 20 or 25 
degrees but routinely inclining the heli- 
copter at a 40- to 45-degree angle. 

It began to make a difference. Torpey 
and Kalt found a rhythm, and soon the 


“What did you have for lunch?” 


conning commands were not as dramatic: 
Kalt spoke almost softly, like a surgeon, 
talking his pilot through the maneuvers 
as calmly as if they were setting down on 
a deserted beach—telling him to go 50 
feet this way, 30 feet that way, 20 feet aft, 
15 forward, until they were consistently 
within a tightening area. The helicopter 
was still heaving, pitching wildly in the 
wind, but it was no longer sailing all over 
the sky. 

Down in the churning sea the basket was 
bobbing within 10 yards of the survivors. 

"I've got the basket near the sur- 
vivors,” Kalt said in the same emotion- 
less tone. "Paying out slack.... Okay, Lee, 
hold it.... That's it, hold!” 

Torpey laughed. 

“Hold? In this?” 

"Hold!" 

Kalt could see only blurry shapes in a 
circle. Then one of the shapes broke 
from the others. He saw the flash of. 
reflective tape, "Someone's swimming 
toward the basket!" 

Grabbing the hoist cable now, feeling 
the heavy tautness of the steel fibers slid- 
ing through the fingers and palm of his 
leather hoisting glove, he waited for a 
tug in the line. 

Then, "I think I got somebody! Yes! 
We got one in the basket! Taking a load!" 


Roughly 100 feet below where Kalt was 
kneeling, Doyle was shouting to Mor- 
ley, "Mark, I'm cutting you free of the 
rope now!" 

“Just get me close! Just get me close! 
I'll get in the thing, I swear it!” 

"Okay, Mark. Take it easy. ГИ get you 
there. You're the first one up, okay?” 

“Where? Where?” 

“It's close by. Close. See what 1 told 
you? You're going to see your kid." 

Once Doyle had heard the distant 
throbbing turn to a whining roar and 
had seen the spodight, he felt a hopeful, 
singing feeling around his heart. Then 
the helicopter was overhead, much low- 
er than the first two, and shoots of bright 
white light were bursting around them, 
casting shadows and lighting the waves 
green again; then he saw the glint of the 
hoist cable in the coned light of the belly 
floods. 

"Then the helicopter went hurtling 
downwind. 

Doyle had watched it go shooting 
away until it was almost out of sight. 
Then he saw it wobbling up from the 
horizon, growing bigger and brighter, 
and then he saw the shine of flare cas- 
ings tumbling through the sky and more 
bursts of the red-white light not far off. 
"The basket was moving closer, all the 
time closer, and he was thinking, God, 
bring it to me. ГИ grab it and I won't let 
it go, I swear. And then, mopping his 
eyes, he spotted the glowing green res- 
cue basket no farther away than the 
length of two swimming pools. 


Doyle yanked his suit zipper down to 
his waist and, feeling the icy shock on his 
chest, pulled out his fishing knife. 

“Mark,” he said, “I'll get you into the 
basket. Two people can fit in that basket. 
When we get to it, you grab it. You hang 
on. Even if I can't get in." 

“1 gotta get in it.” 

He cut the rope around Morley's 
waist. "I want you to swim as hard as you 
can." He severed his own line. “I'll be 
holding you.” He let the knife go. “Giggy, 
I'm taking Mark up!" 

"Go!" 

Reaching his arm over the skipper's 
back, Doyle started kicking and thrash- 
ing. Every muscle felt rigid. Needles of 
pain shot through them. He swam hard. 
It didn't seem as though he was moving. 

Ahead the green glow was rising and 
falling in the blackness. 

"Move!" 

His legs felt like lead. The glowing box 
was coming straight at him. He swam as 
hard as he could. The swells were lifting 
him up and down, but the glow was 
brighter and brighter. He felt a sharp 
pain in his skull. 

Doyle grabbed the metal cage with his 
free, left hand and steadied it. 

“Mark, get in!” 

He tried to heave Morley into the bas- 
ket. He got behind him and pushed. 

No good. 

“Christ!” he screamed at Morley. 
“Help me!” 

Get into the basket yourself and pull 
him into it, Doyle said to himself. 
“Here,” he shouted into Morley's face. 
He grabbed the heavy arms and draped 
them over the top of the wired basket. 
“That's it. Now hold on to the cable.” 

Doyle swung around in the water, 
grabbed the opposite side of the basket 
and hoisted himself up and in so that his 
knees pressed off the bottom of the cage. 

“Come on!” 

On his knees, his hands grabbing Mor- 
ley’s, he pulled with everything he had. 

“Come on!” 

Again he struck back hard against the 
great weight. 

“Get in here!” 

Just then he felt a heavy jerk 


As soon as LeFeuvre heard Kalt shout 
that a man was in the basket, he pulled 
full power on the collective. The heli- 
copter shot skyward. Kalt, catapulted 
backward, peeled himself off the back 
wall and staggered to the door. 

Below, the basket crashed through a 
comber and, spinning and shedding 
foam, punched through the far side of 
the wave. 

“Holy crap!” Kalt shouted. “The sur- 
vivor's still in the basket!” 

The winch was taking cable onto the 
reel in sweeps as fast as the reel could turn. 

“Basket's halfway up!” 

The cage, tiny at first but growing 


steadily in size, pitched and spun, 
engulfed in curling curtains of sleet 
and snow. 

"Basker's 20 feet below the cabin!" 

Up, up, up it came until it swayed just 
outside the jump door. 

“Basket's outside the cabin door!” 

Kalt reached for it. The basket swung 
away from him. 

“Bringing the basket in!” 

This time he grabbed the metal 
cage and pulled. It didn’t budge. He 
pulled again. 

Stuck. 

“Bringing the basket in!” 

He yanked harder. 

“Attempting to bring the basket in,” he 
said, grunting. “It, ah, it...the basket 
won't come in the door.” 

Kalt was now crouching at the door, 
shouting to Honnold, “Pull, Lee, pull!” 

Both men were leaning back, pulling 
with all the strength in their cramping 
muscles. 

“Are you pulling?” 

“Tm pulling! I'm pulling!” 

"It's not coming in!” 

Fish, in his seat, monitoring altitude 
and working the high-frequency radio, 
looked up. Through an opening between 
Kalt's right leg and the jump door, he 
saw why the basket would not enter. 

A second man was dangling from it 

Each time Kalt and Honnold tried to 
yank the basket, the dangling man's 
arms and head rammed against the lip 
of the jump door. 

“Fred!” Fish shouted to Kalt. “Some- 
one's hanging on the basket!" 

“I can't see him!" Kalt shouted. 

The man was inches below Kalt's 
boots, barely dinging to the bottom of 
the basket. He lifted his head, looked 
into the cabin and locked eyes with Fish. 

For a second. Just one second. 

Time enough for everything to pause 
in Fish's mind, for the whining sleet and 
the groaning turbines to hush. 

Time enough for one man's eyes to 
scream for mercy, for another's to 
scream in horror. 


Not a minute earlier the basket had been 
80 feet below the helicopter, bouncing 
like a yo-yo in the wind and the whirling 
thick snow and sleet. 

"We're getting there!” the man on his 
knees inside the rescue basket was 
screaming. "ust hang on!" 

The man dangling from the bottom of 
the basket yelled back, "Hang on to mel" 

“I got you!” 

“Don't let me go!" 

“I said I got you!” 

The man kneeling inside the basket, 
Bob Doyle, had his hands under the 
armpits of the dangling man, Mark Mor- 
ley, and he was saying to himself, We're 
going to bc okay now, The sea can't get us 
anymore. We're out of it. We're out of it. 

The basket kept spinning, twirling, 


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shedding spray. 

“We're almost there!” 

"I can't hang on anymore!” 

"Give it what you can!" 

“Icaro” 

“Don't let go!” 

“Please don't drop me! Please don't 
drop mel” 

They were now in the belly lights of 
the helicopter. They were 15 feet below 
the jump door, and as they climbed 
Doyle saw, from the corner of his eye, 
helmets and shoulders hanging out the 
side of the helicopter. 

“Don't drop me!” 

Just then a gust slammed into them. 
"The basket rocked and whirled. Doyle's 
hands no longer had his skipper by the 
armpits; they had slid down Morley's 
arms and were fastened to his wrists. 

“Hang on!” 

Morley’s hands, which had been 
clutching the basket, were sliding now. 

"Don't let go!” 

Doyle lunged with one hand and 
grabbed his skipper's collar, Leaning 
back, knees digging into the wire mesh 
of the basket bottom, he swung his other 
hand around and seized Morley's shoul- 
der. Then he leaned back. 

“Bob!” 

“I got you!” 

"The upper half of the basket was now 
above the deck of the helicopter cabin. 

“We're here!” Doyle screamed hoarsely 
at the shapes in the doorway. He looked 
down. 

“Hang on, Mark! We're here!” 

"I can't" 

"The basket lurched. 


“Hey!” 

‘Two pairs of gloved hands were now 
yanking at the basket frame. Doyle tried 
to shout, but the groaning roar of the 
turbines and the whining slcet swal- 
lowed his screams. 

“No, wait!” 

Another lurch. This time he saw it: the 
head of the dangling skipper rammed 
against a steel rail beneath the door 
frame. Again the basket lurched. Again 
Doyle heard the dull, sickening thud of 
Morley's head against the airframe. This 
time Morley lifted his head. 

He turned it a little to the left, then 
turned back and looked straight up and 
locked eyes with the man in the basket 
above him. 

His friend. 

“No!” Doyle was shrieking. “Oh 
please, Mark, don't...” 

And then Mark Morley allowed the 
wind to take him in any direction that it 


wished. 


The man in the basket was hysterical, 
gesturing, blubbering. Honnold was try- 
ing to calm him down. 

“What the hell's wrong with this guy?” 
Honnold said. “He's going frickin’ nuts.” 

Kalt didn’t hear him. In all the confu- 
sion the intercom cord plugged into his 
helmet had come loose. He picked it up 
from the deck and plugged it back into 
his helmet. 

"What's the matter?” 

"There was someone hanging on the 
basket." 

"Are you sure?" 


"Shall we head back to ıny place, or are we just going 
to let our shadows have all the fun?" 


“He just fell." 

"The skipper," the rescued man 
shrieked. Tears streaked his reddened 
cheeks. “The skipper just fell. Oh God, I 
let him go! 1 let him go!” 

In the cockpit LeFeuvre was working 
the collective and watching the radar 
altimeter. He could not help hearing 
their talk. But he had not taken his eyes 
off the console or the seas, not even 
when he heard the commotion over the 
fallen survivor. He wondered how it 
must be to fall through darkness and not 
know when you would hit the water. 

The basket was already going down 
again. It splashed in a trough between 
two enormous waves, 10 yards from 
the survivors. 

Below the helicopter, floating spread- 
eagle and facedown, was a man in a sur- 
vival suit. He did not appear to be moving. 

Better go for the ones who look as 
though they're conscious, Kalt said to 
himself. Get moving. He and Torpey 
understood each other perfectly now. 
He had to call only two or three con: 
commands to establish a hover position 
over the strobe. 

They were 15 minutes into the hoist 
evolution when LeFeuvre noticed the 
warning light flashing on the fuel gauge. 
“We don't have enough gas to get back 
to Sitka," he said. 

"Iorpey did not answer him. He was 
banking the helicopter and fighting to 
hold a position. “I'll figure it out.” 

After a brief conversation with a C-130 
airplane circling high above the scene, 
LeFeuvre turned to Torpey. 

“Listen, from here Yakutat is about 15 
minutes, which means we've got enough 
fuel to stay safely for another hour and 
40 minutes.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I just double-checked my figures..." 

“Captain,” Torpey said, pointing, 
“watch that wave there!” 

LeFeuvre hit the collective, heard the 
turbines whine and felt the sudden, hol- 
lowing-out, thrusting jump of the heli- 
copter in his stomach. A comber—80 
feet at least —swept beneath them. Tor- 
pey exhaled. 

“Okay,” he said. “We stay longer.” 

Below them the wave buried the bas- 
ket for almost a minute. But Kalt did not 
stop dragging it until it was within 10 
yards of the strobe light. “Paying out 
slack,” he said. 

LeFeuvre was dropping their altitude 
when he heard Kalt shout, “Survivor's in 
the basket!” 

Just then a gust buffeted the heli- 
copter. 

Honnold, Fish and Kalt were shout- 
ing. The hoist was screeching. Kalt 
struggled to the winch and found it in 
the stop position. The cable was jerking, 
and more than 80 feet of hoist cable was 
still out. 

“I'm pulling it up,” Kalt shouted to 


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Honnold. He shoved the hoist in gear 
and with one hand on the grab rail 
leaned halfway out the helicopter. The 
hoist was still spooling smoothly. 

Then—wham—the helicopter was over 
on one side, and Kalt was skidding on 
the deck. He struggled to his knees, 
checked his helmet. He was all right. 
Kalt stood up and crouched. Lousy, 
bitching gusts, he said to himself. He 
locked down at the raging sleet beneath 
the helicopter, the flakes long and as 
white as chalk. 

“Hey,” Kalt said. He sounded as though 
he could hardly believe what he was say- 
ing. “Someone's still in the basket.” 


"Move your ass!" 

"I am." 

“Т said move it!" 

“Тат moving!" 

“You want me to leave you behind?” 

“No!” 

“Then swim, you fuck!” 

Ahead, Mork and DeCapua could see 
the green glow of the chemical lights ap- 
pearing and vanishing behind the swells. 
Otherwise the spray and sleet were so 
thick they could hardly pick out the waves. 

"Swim!" Mork shouted. 

“I can't!" 

Mork was holding DeCapua with one 
arm and flailing and swimming with the 
other, and it was as though they were 
moving uphill and downhill, not side- 
ways, through the breakers. Mork 
locked up, and the green box was com- 
ing closer. He thrashed and fought 
through the water, the spray clawing at 
his eyes, and he kept thrashing and 
swimming. Everything was turning black 
and his throat was filling with ice water 
when he felt the hoist basket in his grip. 

“Hold this!" 

While DeCapua steadied the bobbing 
cage, Mork grabbed the crossbar and 
hoisted himself into the basket. 

“Get in!” 

The basket slipped right out of DeCa- 
pua's hands, and he fell backward. The 
EPIRB was gone. 

Mork had him by the legs. “I got you!” 

Just then a wave toppled on them like a 
wall of bricks, and the next thing Mork 
knew he had one leg out of the basket, 
опе foot on top of the cage and his hand 
barely holding the cable. The basket was 
twirling like a top, scudding foam and 
spray as it twirled, and he knew he was 
going up. He was going up fast, and all he 
knew was the flying ice and black and the 
cable, and all he could do was squeeze the 
cable with his death grip. Don't let go of 
this thing, he said to himself. 

The first thing he saw was the door 
and then a huge man wearing a shiny 
black helmet. Then a big glove reached 
out and seized the cage, a second glove 
was seizing him by the shoulder, and he 
was inside the cabin. 


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He was lying on the deck alongside 
two black boots. He coughed out seawa- 
ter and rolled over on his back. His 
knees and elbows hurt. 

Only then did Mork realize that he 
had come up in the basket alone. 


The basket was going down again. Kalt 
looked out at the churning sea and saw a 
splash. “Basket's in the water,” he said. 

LeFeuvre was keeping a close eye on 
the gas gauge. They had less than 40 
minutes of fuel left, enough for another 
four, perhaps five basket drops. No 
more. After that there would be nothing 
to do but leave whoever was down there 
to the grace of God. 

Down in the sea DeCapua was just 
about out of his head. He had not been 
able to feel anything in his hands and 
legs for some time, and his feet, as far as 
he could tell, were as good as gone. He 
could hear the helicopter, the dull thud- 
ding of the rotors mostly, but he had lost. 
sight of it. Some of the flares were still 
burning. He could see them when a big 
swell lifted him above the other waves. 
But he knew that soon all the flares 
would go dark, and he remembered he 
no longer had the EPIRB. 

I'm tired, he said to himself. Whipped. 
I wonder if it would do any harm to 
sleep. Just close my eyes and slip right off 
the edge. I wonder if this is what Hanlon 
was feeling when he went under? Or was 
he hot? They say some guys get real 
warm at the end. Nice and toasty. 

DeCapua was about to curl up into a 
ball when he saw the rescue basket. 


At first he thought it was a mirage, a 
hallucination. It was all lit up, a bright, 
starry green, sparkling like a Christmas 
tree. Then he remembered the glow 
sticks. That's the real thing. Thats a 
rescue basket. 

Jesus. 

And he was moving toward it. He did 
not understand how. His feet were not 
working. His hands were not working. It 
did not feel as though he was swimming. 
Yet he and the basket were getting closer 
and closer, and everything—the waves 
and the wind and the snow and sleet and 
spray—went calm around him, and 
there was a big pause, sort of like a 
missed breath, like a rest in music, and 
he was happy and not asking questions, 
just saying, "Thank you, thank you," 
and the next thing he knew he was 
inside the basket and breaking free of. 
the water and something was whispering 
to him, "This is your miracle." 

DeCapua was clear of the water and 
rising toward heaven and feeling relief, 
the lightest, wildest, most unearthly, im- 
mense spasm of relief he had ever felt, 
and then he was in the helicopter and 
someone was tugging on his legs. 

“That's the last one,” he heard a 
voice say. 

His head flopped to one side onto the 
deck. He saw someone in a survival suit, 
then a knife. Someone was leaning over 
him with a knife. 

“Please,” DeCapua said, trying to 
shake his head, “use the zipper. Don't 
cut my suit.” 

The knife was doing something, and 
then it went away. Hands were tugging 


"I can open doors for you, son, but you'll have to case 
the joints yourself.” 


on the shoulders of his suit. 

“Т... can't...can't get up.” 

“Lie still.” 

He was shaking so hard that every- 
thing in the cabin looked blurry. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Cold,” he said. "So cold..." 

“I see that,” the voice said. “You were 
in the water too long. Don't you know 
you shouldn't be swimming this time of 
year?” Then DeCapua felt something 
plastic around him. “That's it. How does 
that feel, in a capsule?" 

^Not bad." 

"Can I get you anything?" 

“Cigarette?” 

“Well,” the voice said, “that won't hap- 
pen for a while.” 

DeCapua closed his eyes. The shakes 
were coming worse now. They felt good. 
He could feel a little spot on the small of 
his back warming. 

He turned his head. 

“Where’s Mark?” he asked. 


Around 3:30 A.m. on January 31, 1998 
Rescue 6011 set down in Yakutat, Alaska 
with three survivors of the La Conte disaster. 
At daybreak two C-130 airplanes and an H- 
60 Jayhawk helicopter from Kodiak took off 
for the Fairweather Grounds to search for 
Mark Morley and David Hanlon. Two Coast 
Guard cutters steamed out to assist. At 1:55 in 
the afternoon an object that looked like a man 
in an orange survival suit was spotted by the 
crew of the oil tanker Arco Juneau. It was the 
body of the skipper, Morley. The Coast Guard 
searched for Hanlon for 94 straight hours. 
His remains, however, were not found until 
more than six months later, by two teenage boys 
hunting deer on Shuyak Island, roughly 400 
miles from the Fairweather Grounds. 

On April 2, 1998 four of the airmen from 
Rescue 601 1—1ed LeFeuvre, Steve Torpey, 
Fred Kalt and Lee Honnold—received the 
Distinguished Flying Cross, the highest avia- 
tion honor given during peacetime. Mike 
Fish, the team’s rescue swimmer, was awarded 
the Coast Guard's Air Medal. The crews of the 
other two rescue helicopters received commen- 
dation medals, achievement medals and letters 
of commendation. 

‘Tamara Westcott, the skipper's fiancée, had 
her last name legally changed to Morley and 
gave birth to a son on August 13, 1998—the 
same day Hanlon's remains were discovered 
on Shuyak. She named the boy Mark. She 
lives in Sitka with her son and her teenage 
daughter, Kyla. 

The three surviving fishermen recovered 
from hypothermia, and Mike DeCapua and 
Gig Mork continue to fish the Alaska seas. 
Bob Doyle moved back to his hometown of Bel- 
lows Falls, Vermont, where he began working 
a series of odd jobs. He now lives with his 
younger sister in North Walpole, New Hamp- 
Shire. To this day he keeps a snapshot of Mark 
Morley in his wallet 


Applegate 

pp 9 (continued from page 131) 
APPLEGATE: L was five years old, and I was 
playing a drug dealer. That's the kind of 
movie it was. We didn't call them indies 
then—it was just a low-budget piece of 
crap. My line was “It's really good shit, 
man.” And I just loved that, because 
when I was a kid I loved to cuss. Con- 
stantly. My mom said it was a need. 


12 


PLAYBOY: Did you pick up your bad- 
language habit on sets? 

APPLEGATE: No, at nursery school. This 
kid in my nursery school whose father 
was a drummer would come to school 
with all these bad words. Everything was 
“fucking this” and “fucking that” and 
“cocksucking this.” Really bad words. 
Well, my mom made a deal with me that 
I could say them only around her, not 
around other people. So I was very 
excited to get to say “shit” in front of 
other people. The joy that was welling 
up inside me was so strong that I almost 
couldn't say it. It's a weird thing now. I 
don't cuss very much. When 1 say a curse 
word, 1 feel as if I must be offending 
someone in the room. 


13 


PLAYBOY: How competitive was the child- 
acting world back in the 1980s? 
APPLEGATE: Unbelievably. Everything was 
kid-dominated. It was the era of Silver 
Spoons, Family Ties, Charles in Charge. 
Every girl my age had long blonde hair, 
and we'd all curl it for our auditions. It 
was really important to get on a show, 
get on a show, get on a show. I used to 
pray, "Oh God, I just want to be on a sit- 
com. 1 really, really do." 


14 


PLAYBOY: How did you kill time when you 
weren't curling your hair for auditions? 
APPLEGATE: We lived in the Hollywood 
Hills, and when you lived in a canyon 
you couldn't go anywhere without a car, 
and there was nowhere to walk. So we'd 
run in front of cars and scream, "Aaaau- 
uggh!” The drivers would slam on the 
brakes and be like, “What? What? What?" 
And we'd be like, “You got a cigarette?" 
People would get really mad at us. Some- 
times they'd give us cigarettes, though. 
Sometimes they'd offer us other things 
and we'd have to decline. 


15 


rLaysoy: An inordinate number of child 
actors wind up in trouble with drugs or 
the law. How did you make it out the 
other side in one piece? 

APPLEGATE: My mom was a huge reason 
She would say, “If I ever catch you doing 
anything, I will not only kill you, I will 


Below is a list of retailers and 
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tact for information on where 
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equipment shown on pages 
38, 43-44, 120-125, 126- 
127, 169 and 172-173, 
check the listings below to find 
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GAMES 
Page 38: Acclaim, acclaim 
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„сот. Apex, apex.com. Alari, atari.com. 
Capcom, capcom.com. Microsoft, xbox 
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MANTRACK 
Pages 43-44: BroCenter 2, bang- 
olufsen.com. Jack Daniels, jackdaniels 
„сот. Persiano Ottone Solido, thechess 
store.com. 


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Pages 120-125: Adidas, adidas.com. 
Akademiks, available at Bloomingdale's 
and Macy's. Anoname Jeans, available at 
the Bon Marché and Nordstrom. Avirex, 
avirex.com. Converse, available at 
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HeM, hm.com. House of Done, house 
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Mavi Jeans, mavi.com. Oris, 914-347- 
ORIS. Parasuco, parasuco.com. Pony, 
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Army, available at Saks and Bloom- 
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Pages 126-127: Aramis, fine 
department stores. Art of 
Shaving, artofshaving.com. 
Axe, drugstores nation- 
wide. Biotherm Homme, 
biotherm.com. Braun, 
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Clarins, clarins.com. Clinique, clinique. 
„сот. Creed, 212-228-1940. Echo Davidofj, 
zinodavidoff.com. Guerlain, fine depart- 
ment stores. King of Shaves, kingofshaves 
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laprairie.com. Liz Claiborne, fine depart- 
ment stores. Nautica, finc department. 
stores. Sharps, sharpsusa.com. Zirh 


Prepare, zirh.com. 


ON THE SCENE 

Page 169: Ayers Leather Shops portable 
bar, ayersleather.com. Picnic Time 
Harmony wine case, picnictime.com. 
Oak folding rocking chair, every 
wherechair.com. Sully sand chair, 
charlestonbeachchair.com. Baby Q gas 
grill, webergrill.com. 


POTPOURRI 

Pages 172-173: Anti-Bush doormats, 
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and Shocking Roulette, shockingfun.com. 
Отка silicone oven mitt, isinorthamerica 
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cuff links, cufflinks.com. Pioneer AVIC-NI 
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153 


PLAYBOY 


154 


kill whoever you're with.” So she threat- 
ened me with death. But she gave me a 
lot of freedom, and because of that I 
would call her at one in the morning and 
say, “This is where I am and this is who 
I'm with and this is what's going on." 
She kept me from turning into a statistic. 


16 


PLAYBOY: Is there an article of clothing 
yowll never wear again after playing 
Kelly Bundy for 10 years on Married 
With Children? 

APPLEGATE- Miniskirts. | almost wore a 
minidress type of thing to some event 


recently, and at the last minute I couldn't 
do it. I felt like a hoochie. 


17 


PLAYBOY: Have men finally stopped as- 
suming you're Kelly? 

APPLEGATE: Some studio heads still think 
I'm her. It's the oddest thing. There was 
this movie I wanted to do, and the direc- 
tor thought I wasn't “upscale” enough. 
"That was the weirdest thing I'd ever 
heard about why I wasn't getting a job 
Am I walking trash? I mean, I have a 
beautiful home. I don't eat fast food. I 
love caviar and champagne. My eye- 


TY 
e coe ae E 


"They've got tomahawks? Oh, deas, sergeant, of course 
they've got tomahawks. 1 think you'll find, if you look closely, all 
Indians have got tomahawks.” 


brows are tweezed. I mean, I'm wearing 
Prada fucking shoes right now. 


18 


PLAYBOY: Describe the financial security 
that comes from starring on a popular 
sitcom for 11 seasons. 

APPLEGATE: Not so secure, honestly. Fox 
didn't give us residuals. When it came 
time to negotiate for syndication pay, 
Fox claimed it wasn't really a network 
So we didn't get what we would have if 
we were on Family Ties or one of those 
other shows. Those people can live off 
their residuals the rest of their lives. I 
think about it every once in a while and 
get a little pissed off, but we were stupid 
to accept it. Married With Children is 
showing five times a day on three differ- 
ent networks in almost every country in 
the world, and the checks I get are hys- 
terical, literally for 75 cents. 


19 


PLAYBOY: Weren't you called for jury duty 
in the Robert Blake murder trial? 
APPLEGATE: It was horrible. Everyone 
who'd received a notice was in 
room, and they came in and said, “We 
have a very important case, and we'll 
need people for at least five or six months. 
Can we see a show of hands of who would 
volunteer?” I turned around, and right 
there was Robert Blake and his attor- 
neys. They'd brought him into the jury 
pool room, which I found really odd, like, 
“Here he is on display. Want to be a part 
of it? Woo-hoo!" And out of 400 people 
only three raised their hand. I have to 
work, plus 1 don't want to be the sideshow 
ata trial of this magnitude, so I filled out 
my hardship paperwork and handed it 
in. And out of all those people, I was one 
of 30 or so who had to explain myself to 
the judge, who said, “That's no excuse. 
You're coming back.” She kept cutting 
me off and putting me in tears. 1 think 
she was pissed off because I'm a celebrity. 
Anyway, a week later Blake fired his 
lawyers, and everyone in that jury pool 
was dismissed. If he hadn't I guess I'd be 
sitting on a jury for six months. 


20 


PLAYBOY: As someone who's devoted to 
physical fitness and exercise, what do 
you eat when it's time to pig out? 
APPLEGATE: Pizza. I can eat more pizza 
than any man, more than anyone I 
know. I don't understand, when some- 
one sits down with a pie in front ofthem, 
how they can eat one piece, maybe two. 
and just leave the rest! No, no, no, no. 
Eat the whole fucking thing, or at least 
half of it. Not a lot of people see me do 
that, though, because it’s usually at 
home, with delivery. When I'm out I try 
to be a little more dainty. You know, a 
little more upscale 


POWDER 


(continued from page 86) 
half a dozen bicycles were chain-locked 
to a stainless steel bicycle rack. He 
stepped over broken wine bottles and 
cigarette butts, walked up three concrete 
steps and went inside. A hunchback no 
more than three feet tall descended the 
staircase. Clovis stopped the man for di- 
rections to Harrigan's office. The midget 
reeked of musk. “Upstairs, room 204.” 
Clovis thanked him and began to won- 
der if he was living in Dwarf City. 

He climbed the stairs to the second 
floor, passing a door with a two-by-five 
card that read MOTHERFUCKER! DON'T 
KNOCK ON THE MOTHERFUCKING DOOR! 
PLL KILL YOU! 

Harrigan’s door had his name 
scratched on the frosted glass. Clovis 
knocked timidly and stepped into a vast 
space with 20-foot ceilings. He shut the 
door, triggering a little bell. Four pi- 
geons took flight through a broken win- 
dow, and frigid wind blew in. 

Clovis took a look around. There was 
a dark granite lab table littered with test 
tubes and vials of colored potions, one of 
which issued a smoky vapor. Near the 
ceiling was a commercial bug zapper 
that snapped periodically with lightning- 
blue sparks. Clovis watched a pair of 
English sparrows buzz around, repeat- 
edly smacking into the window until one 
of the birds flew too near the bug zapper. 
The bird was incinerated with a loud 
pop. The execution filled the air with 
the smell of ozone and burned feathers. 

A thin Asian man in an aloha shirt 
emerged from a back room. 

“Would ye be the gentleman Carmen 
sentby? I cannae remember your name.” 

“Clovis. Excuse me, Doctor—are you 
Trish?” 

Harrigan smiled. “I am nae Irish but 
Scottish with a bit of Chinese.” 

Harrigan led Clovis into a small room, 
where the examination table appeared 
to be the bench seat ofa GM automobile, 
propped on top of four cement blocks. 

“Take off your shirt and climb aboard. 

Tentatively Clovis did so. Harrigan felt 
Clovis's pulse at the wrist and the bra- 
chial artery. The doctor seemed slightly 
alarmed and listened to both pulses on 
the other arm. It seemed to confirm dis- 
aster. “Open wide," Harrigan said. 

He stuck a tongue depressor in Clovis’ 
mouth and examined it with a penlight. 
“How long hae it been since ye had sex?" 

Clovis said he had never had sex. 

Harrigan was astonished. "You're 25 
years old? People get laid by accident!” 

“Well, people eat at McDonald's, too, 
but no Big Mac has ever passed my lips,” 
Clovis said. 

Harrigan threw the tongue depressor 
into a trash can. “Too much mucus. 
Thready pulse. Lay facedown upon the 
table. Donnae worry, it's steady.” 

Clovis stretched out on the car seat. 


Harrigan painlessly inserted hair-thin 
needles in Clovis's back, neck and the 
soles of his feet. When they were in place 
Harrigan began to twist them, causing 
Clovis's hair to stand on end as he bit a 
hole into the car-seat table. Harrigan re- 
moved the needles, counted them and 
told Clovis to get dressed and meet him 
outside. The acupuncture treatment left 
him feeling spaced. 

Back in the laboratory Harrigan was 
mashing a concoction of powders. 

“What's this?” Clovis asked. 

“Something for ye heart chakra —new 
thistle, auricula, wild dog tail, snake pe- 
nis and a pinch of armadillo." 

Harrigan scraped the powder into a 
Diamond matchbox. "A quarter tea- 
spoon before brookfest." Clovis left the 
building feeling a bit better. He returned 
to his room and stirred some powder 
into a cup of hot tea. One long gulp lat- 
erand his head began to throb. His eye- 
lids and lips grew warm and swollen. His 
heart pounded. He staggered back to his 
Slumberking, thinking he might faint. 
His right testicle was heavy and painful 
and seemed to hang from his scrotum 
like a cannonball. The room began to 
spin, and Clovis felt himself go off into a 
glide. When he came to he glanced at his 
watch. It was midnight. Great Caesar's 
ghost! He regained his feet and, cradling 
his sore testicle in his hand, walked over 
to the window overlooking Cottage 
Grove Avenue. It had begun to snow. 

Clovis threw on his new Burberry 
trench coat. He was horny and ready to 
do something about it, but the nearest bar 
was female-free, populated with morose 
men in flannel shirts and ball caps. A pool 
game was in progress, and “Orange Blos- 
som Special” blasted from the jukebox. 

Outside Clovis bumped into a woman 
with a swollen face and a black eye. She 
wore a green Army jacket stained with 
lipstick. She seemed to bounce off Clovis 
and take a few precarious steps to a 
parking meter, which she hugged to her 
breast before sliding down to the side- 
walk. Clovis helped her to her feet. As he 
did so he noticed that her left hand was 
bruised and swollen. 

Clovis hailed a cab and told the driv- 
er to take them to the nearest hospital. 
It was a slow night in the ER. The per- 
sonnel recognized the woman, whose 
name was Vilda. They x-rayed her wrist 
and set it in a cast that was short enough 
to expose her fingers and thumb. A 
physician's assistant cleaned off a gash 
above the woman's eyebrow and su- 
tured it closed as a nurse patted off. 
blood with sterile dressings. 

Clovis was in no mood to play Good 
Samaritan, but he was stuck with the 
woman. He took her back to the St. Ing- 
bert, where he agreed to pay for her 
room even though the point of staying 
in the dump was to save money. Then 
he noticed bloodstains on his trench 
coat, which itself cost a small fortune. 


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PLAYBOY 


156 


Another week like this and he'd be eat- 
ing cat food. 


‘The next day Clovis reported to work on 
no sleep. No matter; the powder made 
him feel like the luckiest man in the world. 
There was nothing he couldn't do. Leap. 
tall buildings in a single bound? No prob- 
lem. Stronger than a locomotive? Most. 
definitely. Faster than a speeding bullet? 
He was faster than the speed of light. On 
the subway to work Clovis closed his eyes 
and found himself on a magic carpet. He 
steered over the South Side, the Loop, the 
Museum of Science and Industry, the Art 
Institute and then over vast Lake Michi- 
gan (chock-full of toothy lampreys), cut- 
ting eastward to cruise over the Statue of 
Liberty, then taking on the Adantic Ocean 
for an Eiffel Tower flyover. From there he 


passed the domes and cathedrals of Flo- 
rence, backing off for the minarets and 
spiked towers of Istanbul and the palaces 
of Mecca, and from there to the Sahara 
with a camel caravan below, and from 
there to the Carpathian mountains (all 
without a passport or visa!). Back to 
southern California, where a dynamo 
clogged with desert sand forced a 
semi-crash landing in Beverly Hills into 
Renée Zellweger's backyard. The movie 
star was lying in a tent surrounded by 
three-by-three blocks of crystal clear ice. 
She was in the tent and on her stomach, 
reading Time magazine. She looked up 
and said, “Hey, Clovis. How do?” 

Clovis whacked the dynamo on a block 
of ice to clear it of sand and let it cool 
down after its intergalactic flight. Then he 
joined Renée in the tent, and the two of 
them began to make out. They were neck- 


‘Aarrh—now there be my idea of ‘pirate booty!" 


ing furiously when he felt a hand slapping 
his thigh. Clovis opened his eyes, and an 
old woman with greenish skin said, “The 
ides. Beware the ides. The March ides.” 

She seemed like an apparition, and he al- 
lowed himself to drop back into his Renée 
Zellweger dream. “Whatare ides, Renée?” 

“The 18th of March, give or take,” she 
said. “Macbeth, act one, scene three. Clo- 
vis, have you got a condom?” 

Clovis opened his eyes just enough to 
make his subway stop. Back in the 
agency, Ardith Walthers, a CPA, stopped 
the new writer to flirt with him; yester- 
day she had given him the cold shoulder. 

He retreated to his cubicle, where in 
violation of city codes he fired up a cigar 
and switched on his IBM. People drifted 
by to see the source of the smoke, but no 
one dared say a word. 

At noon Veronica Schell, the agency's 
star writer, popped into the cubicle and 
offered to take Clovis to dinner, spilling 
out so much preening behavior Clovis felt 
as if he could fuck her right there. She 
said, "You're the new man on board, and 
I thought we should go over a few things.” 

Just before two Clovis stepped into 
Hargrove's office with a handful of story- 
boards. Hargrove was eating a pastrami 
sandwich and pointed to a chair oppo- 
site his desk. Clovis took a seat as Har- 
grove cleaned his hands with a napkin 
and removed the lid from a cup of cof 
fee. “You got yourself some decent duds, 
Clovis. I like the look,” he said. 

The creative director blotted his thick 
mustache as he studied the new materi- 
al. "Whose artwork is this? I don't recog- 
nize the artist." 

“I drew the panels myself,” Clovis said. 

“Let me get this straight. You wrote 
the copy and drew the panels?” 

“Correct.” 

“Pretty damn good. I'm impressed. You 
must have been up all night. Let me 
run these past Veronica,” Hargrove said. 
“Meanwhile you can have the afternoon 
off. Take a spin over to the Brookfield 
Zoo. I hear the panda is not to be missed.” 

“Thanks, Harv,” Clovis said. 

Hargrove leaned back in his swivel 
chair and gave Clovis the thumbs-up sig- 
nal. “Roger, wilco and out.” 

At dinner Veronica ordered sushi, 
while Clovis ate prime rib. They left the 
restaurant buzzed on wine, and Veronica 
broke out a doobie lined with hash oil. 
They shared a couple tokes of that and 
walked back to Veronica's place, listening 
to Django Reinhardt on a small boom box 
they'd found on a porch stoop. Clovis cut 
loose with a little break dancing, which 
seemed to thrill Veronica. But as they 
continued they found themselves walking 
down a long pier in the fog. Veronica 
asked Clovis to turn down the music, 
which had suddenly become the worst 
thing in the world. Clovis could not get 
the music to stop and tossed the boom. 
box into the water, where it languished a 
foot from the surface, emitting bubbles 


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until it finally dropped out of view. 

"Oh God,” Veronica said. "I'm freak- 
ing out. Where the hell are we? 

Clovis was feeling great until Veronica 
hit him with that one. They backuracked 
off the pier and tried to get their bearings 

Somehow they found their way back 
to Veronica’s apartment. The trip was 
utterly harrowing. Veronica recovered 
and insisted on sex. Clovis proposed 
anal sex. 

Veronica's voice was husky with desire. 
She said, “Yeah, take me up the ass.” 

Clovis said, "It's going to hurt." 

Veronica said, "Go ahead and make 
it hurt." 

She retired to the bathroom after the 
deed was done. Clovis lay in bed, smok- 
ing a Marlboro. It was the second ciga- 
rette of his lifetime, but he blew a perfect 
smoke ring. 

Veronica returned from the bathroom 
with a pair of handcuffs. She coaxed Clo- 
vis into being tied facedown on the bed. 
She gave him a backrub, lightly tracing 
her nails over his neck, arms and thighs. 
Suddenly she was digging. Exorcist- 
voiced, she pulled a wooden paddle from 
her bag of tricks and began to whack the 
shit out of Clovis's buttocks. He bucked 
to escape the blows, which seemed only 
to inflame Veronica's sadism. Finally, 
Clovis ripped off the headboard and 
managed to regain his feet. Veronica's 
face was filled with amusement. Clovis 
said, “You are one crazy fucking bitch!” 


After sleeping in he was back in his cubi- 
cle by noon, mugging and blowing kisses 
at Brandy Becker. At the water fountain 
he cracked up the boys with an impres- 
sion of the Big Hurt, the White Sox's 
lumbering slugger, Frank Thomas. Clovis 
Incredible Hulked around an imaginary 
home plate and said, “If 1 feel like ii 
just might hit a couple of homers today. 

"There was a champagne party at four 
рм. to celebrate a new account. Hargrove 
had three glasses of punch and put on a 
top hat (from the Stetson account). He 
cakewalked around the office. Clovis was 
still in his cubicle when Hargrove passed. 
by, singing "Maybellene" as he duck- 
walked around the seventh floor: Clovis let 
his jaw drop. This was not to be believed. 

Hargrove backpedaled, giving Clovis a 
tip of his hat, flashing the wide toothy 
grin of Theodore Roosevelt. To cap off the 
performance, Hargrove lifted a ham and 
tipped off a German beer fart. An hour 
later Clovis stepped into Hargrove's of- 
fice to drop off fresh copy. Hargrove was 
on the floor like an overturned tortoise. 
Clovis tied Hargrove's shoelaces togeth- 
er and penciled the words DRUNK AGAIN 
ona piece of 30-pound bond, depositing 
it on his boss's chest. 


Clovis left the office and went to the 
Harper Library at the University of 


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159 


PLAYBOY 


Chicago, on the hunt for flesh. He 
quickly culled a grad student from the 
herd—a brunette in a tartan skirt and 
black stockings. They rushed back to 
her apartment, where Clovis fucked the 
woman so thoroughly that when she 
came she passed out. For a moment Clo- 
vis wondered if he had somehow killed 
her, but she quickly revived, and they 
did it again. 

He left her apartment at midnight 
with a fit of the munchies. He stopped 
off at Dominick's supermarket, where he 
picked up a housewife. Clovis ap- 
proached her with the easy familiarity of 
an old friend. The woman's husband was 
in San Francisco on a business trip. 

They drove to her home in Evanston 
and fucked on the kitchen floor before 
she could put the Häagen-Dazs in the 
freezer. After two hours of sex Clovi 
dressed and left to cruise the bars. 
with charismatic charm, he picked up a 
couple of girls from Northwestern at 
closing time. He woke up the next morn- 
ing with both Northwestern women in 
his Slumberking. He ran them out, took 
a dose of powder and dressed for work. 

As he was walking out the door Vilda 
stood before him, obviously much re- 
covered, despite the cast on her wrist. 
She was dressed like a Spanish hooker 
in a red miniskirt. She passed Clovis a 
wad of cash 

“What's this?” he asked. 

"It's yours," she said. She had $1,100 
for her new boss. 

Vilda closed the door, rubbing her 
hand over Clovis's crotch as she laid an 
open-mouth kiss on him. He had an 
instant erection. Vilda dropped to her 


knees and sucked him off. 
е 


In the coming weeks Clovis's fortunes at 
Booth Wicks continued to rise. He was 
given a large salary increase and his own 
office with a river view. Clovis developed 
a flair for writing television ads. On film 


shoots Clovis had unlimited access to fe- 
male models. They were women too busy 
working to have time for relationships. 
Quick sex was the rule since, like may- 
flies, they had a limited shelf life and 
they knew it. He became obsessed with 
numbers. It occurred to him that no mat- 
ter how bad things turned out later in 
life, he would always be able to recount 
these conquests with unbounded joy. 

Coming home near dawn most nights, 
Clovis screened multitudes of calls from 
his answering machine. There was sim- 
ply too much action. There was a hurt 
why-won't-you-call message from his 
mother, as well as calls from Little Olive 
in Athens. A week later he changed his 
phone number. 

While he was setting up Brandy Beck- 
er, the only woman who sustained Clo- 
vis's affection was Veronica. Their S&M 
liaisons took an even darker turn. She 
begged to be whipped with a coat hanger 
and buggered dry. She too came so hard 
she passed out. After one such session 
she announced, "I guess you'll be turn- 
ing me out too now, huh?" 

“Fucking-A right!" Clovis said. "Get 
out on the streets and hustle.” 

She looked at him with doe eyes and 
nodded her head in submission. 

Clovis invoked a personal dress code, 
and Veronica hence came to work 
dressed like a Puritan. In his office, in 
between blow jobs, Veronica threw out a 
lot of “thees” and “thous.” Clovis accept- 
ed her envelope of cash each morning 
but would no longer fuck her. He was 
afraid of STDs. 

One afternoon Brandy stepped into 
Veronica's office and caught Veronica 
sucking Clovis's cock. She was aston- 
ished by the length and girth of it. Her 
cheeks flamed crimson and she quickly 
shut the door 

One morning, as Clovis was updating 
his fuck diary, Brandy stepped into his 
office and shut the door. She pulled her 
sweater over her head and stood with a 


"I don't care about ‘same sex marriages.’ It’s the 
‘no sex marriage’ that concerns me.” 


pair of hard pink nipples. She said, “Ever 
since I saw you with Veronica that day, I 
haven't been able to get you off my mind.” 

Brandy remoyed her skirt and panties 
and bent over his desk. She said, “Take 
me without a rubber.” 

When it was over Clovis experienced 
a pain deep in his heart. He realized he 
was in love with this woman, a love that 
could lead him to the sort of crash and 
burn he witnessed when the Cessna 
nosedived into the lake. Come to think 
of it, the plane wasn't the only thing 
that crashed. There was a flock of 
brightly colored parrots in Hyde Park. 
They were weird and incongruous in 
the winter, and several fell from the sky 
when they flew over Clovis. He even 
knocked down a couple of crows. 

Spring gave way to summer. Like Clo- 
vis, Brandy changed her phone number, 
severing her link to her previous boy- 
friend. Cloyis fucked her in the backseat 
of his Beemer as the two watched the 
Fourth of July fireworks with the top 
down. He couldn't get enough of her; he 
knew no amount of powder would lift 
such a curse. Clovis had reached the 
zenith of his powers. 


Clovis's most recent supply of powder— 
his fourth batch—was almost gone. He 
had seen a crew of movers going in and 
out of Harrigan’s building just the week 
before and meant to drop in, but he kept 
putting it off. Lately he also heard fiddle 
and accordion music whenever he passed 
by. He climbed the stairs to the doctor's 
office only to find a dozen children roam- 
ing the halls. Inside the office he en- 
countered a large Samoan woman fan- 
ning her face with the folded automotive 
section of the Sun-Times. She sat on Har- 
rigan's GM car seat in the crosshairs of 
two electric fans. "Yes, 
met the Scottish-talking Harrigan. “Him 
be needing some eat, bruddah. He has 
powder all over dis and dat,” she said. 
She rose from the car scat and gave Clo- 
vis a guided tour of the back room. 

Clovis opened a closet to look for Har- 
rigan’s stash. Instead he discovered a 
collection of stuffed raccoons, cats and 
hyenas done by an obviously amateur 
taxidermist. The animals were moth- 
eaten and filled the closet with a leaden 
odor of mold. Off to the side was a hu- 
man skeleton poised before a table with a 
coffee cup before him. Harrigan humor. 

While there was a coat of dust over 
everything, there was no sign of the 
magical formula. “Did he say if he was 
coming back?” Clovis said. 

“Dat what he say, and pow! He be 
gone.” 

“That's и?” 

“No, he want his seat back. Comfort- 
able, dude. I tried to buy it, and he say 
no, come back.” 

“But he didn’t come back.” 

“Not yet.” 


Clovis gave the woman his card and a 
$20 bill. “If he comes back, tell him to 
call immediately. I've got my landline 
there and my cell.” 

By the time he reached the streets his 
face was pale, his head spinning in disbe- 
lief. He was screwed. 


Clovis turned up at the agency two 
hours late. He was summoned to Har- 
grove's office, where the creative direc- 
tor jumped Clovis for writing some 
particularly tepid ad copy. Clovis re- 
coiled like Dagwood Bumstead. He was 
completely befuddled. At one snap of 
the fingers he lost his favorite-son status 
with Harv, who barked, "Get out of here 
with this crap and don't come back until 
you've got dynamite on the page! Dyna- 
mite TNT!" 

Clovis seemed to grow old overnight. 
His skin took on skim-milk pallor. His 
$5,000 wardrobe hung on his haggard 
frame like socks on a rooster. He was re- 
moved from his all-star spot on the 
Green Giant account, forfeited his office 
and was sent back to the cubicle to work 
on notoriously dull mutual fund busi- 
ness. He even seemed to have lost his 
short-term memory and was unable to 
spell such simple words as bucket, toe and 
fish. He sat before his computer in a 
pure state of cartoon confusion. 

Veronica no longer came in with en- 
velopes of cash. She shunned him like a 
leper. So too did the rest of the seventh- 
floor girls he had fucked up and down 
the line. So too did the models who once 
swarmed him. Gone were the mash notes 
he used to find tucked under the wind- 
shield wipers of his BMW: “I just want you 
to know I have never experienced a night 
like last night—ever! XXX OOOO.” At 
least he had Brandy Becker But when 
Brandy refused the two-and-a-half-carat 
engagement ring Clovis presented her, 
he was in for a double disappointment: 
The jeweler would offer only half the 
price Clovis had paid for it. “But she 
didn't even wear it!” 

“That's life in the big city, my friend. 
That's the best 1 can do.” 

A loose rumor floated around the sev- 
enth floor that Clovis had a micropenis. 
He sat morosely in his cubicle with the 
mutual fund account crushing him into 
despair for a solid month until Brandy 
gave him a heads-up that Hargrove was 
going to terminate his employment. Clo- 
vis had scen it coming, but it depressed 
him to no end. Rather than see the hatch- 
et fall, he tendered his resignation. The 
firm gave him a month's severance and the 
promise of a good job recommendation. 


In late July, as the earth spun at 67,000 
miles per hour on its endless rotation 
around the sun, the blazing comet that 
was once Clovis Spicer had been re- 
duced to a fizzle. 


He phoned Little Olive in Athens and 
asked her to marry him. Olive didn't 
seem glad to hear from Clovis. She told 
him she was on the rebound from a 
destructive relationship with a cocaine 
dealer. She was recovering from a D&C. 
"I'm а complete wreck, Clovis, an ab- 
solute mess." 

For all of his recent philandering, Clo- 
vis was stung with the sharp spear of. 
betrayal. A cocaine dealer. From a lost 
virgin to a shameless slut! Still, after a 
week of frantic phone calls, he spent his 
last $100 on gas driving back to the 
southern coast of Georgia and a ferry 
ride to Jekyll Island, off the Georgia 
coast. The first words out of his mother's 
mouth were, "All that time in Chicago 
and you never called home once, Clovis. 
Now you come crawling back like a dog." 

Clovis dug up some old clothes from 
the back of his closet and painted his 
parents’ cottage. This job was accom- 
plished in between rainstorms and his 
shifts at the Grand Hotel, where he 
worked as a bellman. Worse than his 
ridiculous red cap with its leather chin 
strap was the red woolen Nehru jacket 
Clovis was forced to wear. His mother 
called the outfit a monkey suit. 

One afternoon at the hotel Clovis split 
his red trousers as he squatted to pick up 
a trunk belonging to a German investor, 
who handed Clovis a $20 bill for a new 
pair of pants. The trunk was so heavy 
that Clovis felt his right testicle pop loose 
from its tethers and sink his scrotum like 
a cannonball again. He visited an island 
doctor, who examined him for a hernia 
and proclaimed him healthy. The notion 
that a testicle could feel like a cannonball 
was "all in Clovis's head." 

Clovis ferried the BMW to the main- 
land and drove to Athens to meet Little 
Olive. After a week of hemming and 
hawing, she and Clovis were married at 
city hall in Athens. Clovis rented a small 
trailer to haul Olive's wardrobe and fur- 
niture back to Jekyll Island. 

Olive took antidepressants and slept 
14 hours a day. After a month of living 
in Clovis's childhood room, the newly- 
weds had yet to consummate their mar- 
riage. They spent each night lying on 
their narrow bed listening to a Norah 
Jones CD on which each song sounded 
exactly the same as the previous one. 
Long after the music was over Clovis 
remained awake. Olive put out a lot of 
BTUs of heat. He'd lie away from her 
and watch his former girlfriends jump 
over a track-and-field high hurdle and 
count them like sheep. 

And then, typically less than an hour 
after Clovis had dropped off into a fitful 
slumber, the alarm clock rang. The 
Grand Hotel bellman donned his wool- 
en monkey suit, kissed his crazy wife 
good-bye and entered into another day 


of agony. 


For program information go lo: 


Pinoy TV п malabl tom your local cable 
drin opertr or home lit pror. 
(©2004 Pinoy Entertainer Grov, ic 

Airis nsed. PLAYBOY TV 


PLAYBOY 


162 


MICHAEL MOORE 


(continued from page 66) 
middle of America, not just the left. The 
Dixie Chicks’ lead singer, Natalie Maines, 
says she's ashamed to be from the same 
state as Bush, and they go crazy. They 
don't expect it from a mainstream coun- 
try singer, a woman from Texas. The 
stakes can be high with someone like that. 
The Dixie Chicks were banned from 
Clear Channel, which owns radio stations 
around the country and is a big financial 
supporter of Bush. And yet since then the 
Dixie Chicks have done better than ever. 
Their shows sell out. I was supposed to 
sufler after the Academy Awards, but my 
book sales shot up and more people than 
ever went to my movie. 

PLAYBOY: Do you admit that many people 
were offended by your speech? 

MOORE: There was a lot of hostility, 
though not from the majority of people. 
Women in the airport told me I should 
be exiled—not deported but exiled, Yet 
most of the reaction was supportive. 
PLAYBOY: Did you expect to win the Oscar? 
MOORE: Honestly, no. I was relaxed, en- 
joying the show, convinced they weren't 
going to give it to me anyway so I might 
as well have a good time. Diane Lane 
came out, and I was thinking how cool it 
was that she was giving the award for 
our category. I'm sure every heterosex- 
ual male has a Diane Lane moment in 
his head. She called my name and I was 
stunned. | had nothing prepared to say. I 
was walking down the aisle, and Meryl 
Streep and Julianne Moore were touch- 
ing me as I went by. I couldn't believe it. 
They had this look in their eye of “Go 
get 'em, Mike.” Many people were afraid 


to speak out, but I think they were 
counting on me to say something. I said 
my thing. They started booing up in the 
balcony. Down below, however, not a sin- 
gle person was booing. Some were ap- 
plauding. But I decided I had to say 
something. You can thank your tux de- 
signer or make it a real moment. 
PLAYBOY: Did the reaction surprise you? 
MOORE: It drove the right wing nuts and 
drove the people who want the Oscars to 
be some weird four-hour exercise in va- 
pidity crazy. Some complained about it 
on TV—James Woods and others, just 
horrible, disgusting people. I was glad 
they didn't like it. Dennis Miller went off 
on it, but he's become, as Arianna Huff- 
ington said, the Sammy Davis Jr. of this 
administration. I got an angry letter 
from Connie Stevens. I may survive that. 
On the other hand 1 got incredible 
notes, phone calls, e-mails and letters 
from Jonathan Demme, Jeff Bridges, 
Martin Scorsese, Meryl Streep—I could 
go down a whole list, but I don’t know if 
I should out them. Then, when every- 
one was saying that any person who crit- 
icized America at a time of war would be 
shunned and boycotted and ignored 
and vilified, the sales of my books and 
movies went through the roof. 

PLAYBOY: Are you surprised that your 
books and movies have been commercial 
successes? 

MOORE: Are you kidding? It's unbeliev- 
able. I thought the title alone would kill 
Stupid White Men. Then Dude, Where's My 
Country? debuted at number one. I was 
surprised by Roger & Me. We did it over 
three years with no money. We thought. 
we'd be showing it in church basements. I 
was surprised by Bouling for Columbine, 


"No warranty with that one. Just a. life insurance policy." 


which earned $21 million. How do you 
say to your date, "Wanna go see a movie 
about gun control?” That's really going to 
get her in the frame of mind to put out. 
PLAYBOY: In that movie you seem gen- 
vinely shocked that Kmart, where you 
show up with wheelchair-bound victims. 
of the Columbine shootings, agreed 
to stop selling ammunition for assault 
weapons and handguns. Were you? 
MOORE: My life of doing this sort of thing 
is 100 percent rejection. Suddenly some- 
one agreed. Yes, I was shocked. 1 don't 
think they did it for the publicity, either. 
1 think they felt this personally. 
PLAYBOY: Has Kmart maintained its 
commitment not to sell ammunition for 
handguns? 

MOORE: It has, 

PLAYBOY: Has Wal-Mart followed suit? 
MOORE: No, it hasn't. 

PLAYBOY: Sometimes your confrontations 
with companies seem tasteless. The 
Voice Box Choir stands out. 

MOORE: Well, I’m proud of it. Voice Box 
Choir was a group of half a dozen or so 
antitobacco campaigners, all of whom 
had had their voice boxes removed to 
stop the spread of cancer. They had been 
heavy smokers who could speak only by 
holding a small amplifier to their throat. 
We had the choir sing Christmas carols 
at the New York headquarters of Philip 
Morris and RJ Reynolds. Wc also went to 
the chairmen's houses. It gets a huge 
laugh, but it’s the kind of laugh you can't 
believe you're laughing. 

PLAYBOY: Have you returned to Flint to 
investigate whether things have im- 
proved or worsened since you made 
Roger & Me? 

MOORE: I’m back all the time, and it's 
much worse. When I made Roger & Me 
they had eliminated 30,000 jobs. By now 
they've eliminated more than 60,000. 
PLAYBOY: We notice you're wearing New 
Balance sneakers, not Nike. In your film 
The Big One you expose Nike for using 
child labor in its foreign sweatshops. Do 
you boycott Nike? 

MOORE: 1 don't buy Nike products. 1 
wear these, though, because New Bal- 
ance makes shoes in different widths. I 
have a size 13 shoe with a 4E. width, so 
it's for comfort. I don't live my life com- 
pletely in a PC manner, though these 
shoes are assembled in the U.S. 

PLAYBOY: Do you buy American? 

MOORE: I don't believe in buying Amer- 
ican, because it's fraudulent. Your 
American car is full of parts from all 
over the world. 

PLAYBOY: What do you drive? 

MOORE: A Chrysler minivan in Michigan 
and a VW Beetle in New York. 

PLAYBOY: Are they political, practical or 
aesthetic choices? 

MOORE: We have the minivan in Michigan 
because we have an extended Irish 
Catholic family, so we need lots of scats. 
My wife and I just like the Beetle. It's red. 
PLAYBOY: What's your take on Martha 


PLAYBOY 


164 


Stewart's conviction? 

MOORE: I go to bed with Martha Stewart 
every night. Have you ever tried her 
sheets? They're really nice. I hope she 
doesn't go to jail. They wasted time and 
money on some rinky-dink $45,000 case 
that hurt no one while allowing corpo- 
rate crooks to go loose. Consider Enron. 
Ken Lay is still a free man, and Martha 
Stevart is going to jail? It's unbelievable. 
Who wouldn't do what she did? A friend 
calls and tells you a stock is going to 
tank, so you sell. 

PLAYBOY: But she was convicted of lying 
about it. 

MOORE: Yeah, she shouldn't have lied, 
but come on. Go after the real crooks. 
I'm not saying you should break the lav. 
I don't own stock. I've never owned a 
share of stock. I don't believe in the stock 
market just as 1 don't believe in Vegas. 
PLAYBOY: Why don't you believe in the 
stock market? 

MOORE: I just feel bad for all the average. 
Americans who got sucked into the mar- 
ket in the 1990s thinking they were 
going to get rich. They ended up losing 
their pensions, their 401(k)s. They 
should never have been there. It's a rich 
man’s game. It's Vegas. 

PLAYBOY: Maybe this is why you've been 
accused of spouting "socialist blather,” 
according to Robert Novak. 

MOORE: It's pretty funny how we use the 
word socialist to try to smear people these 
days. The guy who started the religion I 
grew up with said you'll be judged by 
how you treat the least among us. He 
said you're to love your enemy. He said 
the poor and meek shall inherit the 
earth. Was he a socialist? He went into 


the temple and tumed over the money 
changers’ tables because he didn’t like 
that the have-nots were suffering. He felt 
the pie should be divided up a little 
more fairly. That's the fundamental basis 
of my upbringing in an Irish Catholic 
houschold. I still live by those principles. 
То try to smear me with the word socialist 
is anti-Catholic, and I wish people like 
Mr. Novak weren't so bigoted. I've never 
read a book by Karl Marx, I'm embar- 
rassed to say. I probably should. It 
sounds like he had some good ideas. Call 
it liberal, socialist, whatever—1 don't 
care. It’s about responding from a good 
place in your heart. 

PLAYBOY: How do you define patriotism? 
MOORE: Now that's the scary word, 
frankly. People need to be true to their 
conscience and the people with whom 
they share this planet. I see these signs 
that say PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN, and I 
think, Isn’t pride one of the seven deadly 
sins? People say, “Support the troops.” 
The best way to support them is not to 
send them into harm's way for anything 
other than protecting this country. If we 
were under attack, we'd have to defend 
ourselves. That's why we have a military. 
There isn't a single American who can 
look me in the eye and say he was afraid 
Saddam Hussein was going to kill him. As 
the pope said, this was an immoral war. 
PLAYBOY: Earlier you said Bill O'Reilly 
preaches to the converted. When you rail 
against Bush, whether in your movies or 
books, do you consider that you too may 
be preaching to the converted? 

MOORE: I don't think so. In fact I'm one 
of the few people on the left who have 
broken through to a mainstream audi- 


"What began as an act of vandalism now has the support 
of half of all Americans." 


ence. Before Stupid While Men you would 
have been hard-pressed to find a book 
from the left that had gone to number 
one on the New York Times list. Since then 
the floodgates have opened. Liberals 
who were kind of wimps to begin with 
saw that it was safe to come out. I reach a 
pretty wide audience. If book sales can 
predict the election, we have a good 
chance. But of course we have to work 
hard for this election, because they work 
harder than we do. The right wing gets 
up early in the morning; we sleep in. 
They've already done a lot of damage by 
the time we're rolling out of bed. They 
get up trying to figure out whom they're 
going to screw today: "Whose life ain't 
miserable today? Because I'm gonna 
make it miserable!” We have to do every- 
thing we can do. 

PLAYBOY: Including your new movie? Do 
you admit that it's timed to impact the 
election? 

Moore: My hope is that at the end of the 
film, when the credits are rolling, the au- 
dience will already be out of their seats, 
lighting torches. I wantan angry mob. 
PLAYBOY: And what if, after it all, Bush 
wins again? 

MOORE: Oh man. [groans] Гуе thought 
about it. 

PLAYBOY: And? 

MOORE: I suppose I might want to move 
to Canada, but I can't. If Bush wins, 
we're just going to have to dig in and 
fight even harder. Part of me trusts this 
administration to do itself in because of 
its corruption. It’s likely to happen, 
though we can't bank on it. 1 don't even 
want to think about the possibility of 
Bush winning. It makes me ill. We can- 
not let him win. One of the many rea- 
sons is the Supreme Court. If ever we 
had proof that there is a God, it's that we 
got through four years of George W. 
Bush without a Supreme Court appoint- 
ment. Did you ever think that would 
happen? Nobody did. They must have a 
hell of a gym at the Supreme Court. 
Why Rehnquist and O'Connor didn't 
resign in order to let Bush make two 
right-wing, born-again-Christian ap- 
pointments is beyond me. So we have 
scooted through four years. The Lord 
above has said, “Okay, I'm giving you a 
bye, but this is your last chance. You 
allowed them to steal the election. But if 
you don't remove these motherfuckers 
this November and do it right, I'm going 
to give Bush four appointments in his 
second term. There will be two resigna- 
tions, and the other two I'm just going to 
smite. You're going to have a Supreme 
Court with five Clarence Thomases. 
Scalia is going to be considered the lib- 
eral." Of course God probably didn't say 
it exactly like that. He probably wouldn't 
say "motherfuckers." But we had better 
listen to his warning: Bush cannot win. 


[PLAYMATE & 


You can't go to a Playboy party these days 
without rubbing tails with a Playmate 
Bunny, but did you know that the icon 

Bunny outfit —which is registered with the 
U.S. Patent Office and dis- = 

played in the Smithsonian 
Institution—almost never 
came into existence? Be- 
fore Hef opened the first 
Playboy Club, in 1962, he 
toyed with dressing the 
waitresses in sexy night- 
gowns. (Hef! What were 
you thinking?) Thankfully, 
he and his creative team 
decided to play off the magazine's Rabbit 
theme, and the curvaceous cottontail 
costume was born. Just when Hef thought 
everything was cool, he was thrown 


NEWS, 


Clockwise from left: Cora Wokelin, Christina Sonti- 
одо, Stacy Fuson, Miriom Gonzolez; Lauren Hill; 
Nicole Wood, Stephanie Heinrich (with David Wells). 


another curve: It took more than a year to 
getan entertainment license for the $4 mil- 


lion Playboy Club in Manhattan. Why? 
Because an uptight city license com- 
missioner didn't approve of the Bunny 
costume. Fortunately, a judge overruled 


him, saying, "It is not 
incumbent upon the peti- 
tioner (Playboy) to dress 
its female employees in 
middy blouses, gymna- 
sium bloomers, turtleneck 
sweaters, fishermen's hip 
boots or ankle-length 
overcoats.” Damn straight. 
Now the Bunnies are 
more popular than ever 


| and hopping up everywhere, especially at 


i our coast-to-coast 50th Anniversary Club 
i tour, which re-creates the original swanky 
atmosphere and ends in June. 


SCENES FROM THE RED CARPET 


common? 


m „Т. years 

re getüng 
naked in 
PLAYBOY, Erika, 
who pla] 
Elliott's girl- 


a TV pilot for 

a new show called Baywatch, 
As you know, she and the 
show made a huge splash. 


“I think that men are grow- 
ing up faster. The best guys 
are the ones who were born 
in the 1960s. They are used 
to women being indepen- 
dent. They were brought 
up by mothers who were 
burning their bras and 
protesting. Men from my 
generation are chauvinist 
Pigst!"—Bebe Buell 


From left: Bronde Roderick, who plays a cheerleader in Starsky & Hutch, at the 


movie's world premiere. "I picked this because it’ 


so 1970s,” 


" Brande said; 


Victoria Silvstedt ot our Super Bowl shindig in Houston; Nicole Norain at the 
Alize House of Passion NBA party; Stacy Fuson at the Coming Home Studios, 
Godsmack and Playboy Pre-Grommy Rock-and-Roll Carnival; Tina Jordan in L.A 


POP QUESTIONS: 
REBEKKA ARMSTRONG 


Q: You're HIV positive, and here 
you are on the cover of Poz magazine. 
Arc you still working to spread aware- 
ness about HIV and AIDS? 

A: Definitely. Three weeks ago I 
was at New York University. Then 
three days later I was in Califor- 
nia, lobbying against the budget 
cuts that Arnold Schwarzenegger 
had proposed in the AIDS-drug 
assistance program. It was amazing. 
My husband, Oliver, with the AIDS 
Healthcare Foundation crew and 
800 others, protested on the capitol 
steps in Sacramento. 


Q: Does traveling so much have a 

negative effect on your health? 
It can. A year ago I took 84 
planes in the fall alone. I was like, “I 
need to step back!” My goal now is to 
do two lectures a month. It's a mira- 
cle that I'm still alive. I've had HIV 
since I was 16 years old. I'm 37 now, 
and that has a lot 
to do with the way 
I eat and exercise. 

Ө: What about 
future plans? 

А: I want to put 
out a cookbook, 
but I don't want 
to include only 
my healthy vege- 
tarian recipes. I 
want to feature 
the foods I grew up on, such as my 
grandma's cheese rolls. You know, all 
those fun things I ate as a kid. 


p femi \ 
1 Centerfold | 


PAMELA'S PDAS 


Anna Nicole Smith and Danny 
DeVito were caught making out 
on the “Kiss Me” camera at an 
LA. Lakers game. Lucky for 
Anna, the buss was fic- А 
tional—they were filming wa 

a scene for the sequel to 

Get Shorty, called Be Cool... = 
Elke Jeinsen and Karen ' — 
McDougal (below) whooped 

it up in Spain to celebrate 
PLAYBOY'S Spanish edition... 
Christina Santiago, Serria Tawan, 
Carmella DeCesare, Audra 
Lynn and 


We don't blame the guy оп the left 


Barbara Moore competed on 
Family Feud against a team of 
Hollywood bachelors, including 
Shauna Sand's ex-husband, 
Lorenzo Lamas.... Neferteri 
Shepherd landed the role of 
Dussie May in August Wilson's 
play Ma Rainey's Black Bottom... 

Peggy McIntaggart stars as Gary 
Busey's wife in the movie Moto 
Monkey... Nicole Wood and 
Colleen Marie 
contended with 
all things nasty 
on NBC's Fear 
Factor.... Colleen 
also appears on 
VHI's Million 
Dollar Weekend, 
in which she, 
Tishara Cousino 
and Shannon 
Stewart ger wild 
in Vegas... Been 
reaching your 
Telemundo quo- 
ta? Then you 


Lillian 
may have seen 


works" Miller 


promoting Playboy 
leather apparel on the news.... 
And finally, in honor of the 
Fourth of July, here's the 
cover of Norway's Javel maga. 
zine (above), featuring Lillian 
Müller in red, white and blue. 
She's not from the U.S., but 
she sure inspires fireworks. 


Wwe 


the inside story on 


Jamie Ireland is a 
freelance writer in 
the areas of sex, 
fitness, romance, 
and travel. 


Advertisement 


Learning “The 
Ropes”... 


B: month I got a letter from a 
reader in Texas about a "little 
secret" that has made her sex life with 
her husband absolutely explosive. 
(Those Texans know their stuff, let me 
tell you.) 


‘Tina writes: 


Dear Jamie, 
Last month my husband returned 
from a business trip in Europe, and he 
was hotter and hornier than ever before, 
with more passion than he has had for 
‚years. It was incredible. He flat wore 
me out! And the best part of all—he 
was having multiple orgasms. I know 
what you're thinking... men don't have 
multiples, but trust me he was, and his 
newfound pow! pow! power! stimulated 
me into the most intense orgasms I've 
ever had. So, before we knew it, we 
were both basking in the glow of the 
best sex of our lives! 

We tried tantric stuff in the past, and 
the results were so-so. But this was 
something new and exciting, completely 
out of the ordinary. 1 asked my husband 
what had created such a dramatic 
change in our lovemaking and he told 
me he'd finally learned “the ropes.” 

On the last night of his business trip 
my husband spent an evening dining 
out with a Swedish nutritionist and his 
wife of 20 years. The couple was obviously 
still quite enamored with each other, so 
my husband asked their secret. The 
nutritionist told him their sex life was 
more passionate than ever. Then he 
pulled a small bottle from his satchel 
and gave it to my husband. The bottle 
contained a natural supplement that 


Hot Spot __ 
Great Sex! 


by Jamie Ireland 


the nutritionist told my husband would 
teach him "the ropes" of good sex. 

My husband takes the supplement every 
day. The supply from the nutritionist is 
about to run out and we desperately 
want to know how we can find more. 
Do you know anything about “the ropes,” 
and can you tell us how we can find it 
in the States? 

Sincerely, 
Tina C., Ft. Worth, Texas 


‘ina, you and the rest of our readers 

are in luck, because it just so happens 
I do know about “the ropes” and the 
supplement your husband's Swedish 
friend likely shared. 

The physical contractions and fluid 
release during male orgasm can be 
multiplied and intensified by a product 
called Ogóplex Pure Extract". It's a daily 
supplement specially formulated to trigger 
better orgasmic experiences in men. The 
best part, from a woman's perspective, 
is that the motion and experience a man 
can achieve with Ogóplex Pure Extract 
can help stimulate our own orgasms, 
bringing a whole new meaning to the 
term simultaneous climax! 


The term used by the Swedish 
nutritionist is actually fairly common slang 
for the effect your husband experienced. 
The enhanced contractions and heightened: 
orgasmic release are often referred to as 
ropes because of the rope-like effect of 
release during climax. In other words, 
as some people have said, “it just keeps 
coming and coming and coming.” 

As far as finding it in the States, 1 
know of just one importer—Boland 
Naturals. If you are interested, you can 
contact them at 1-866-276-1193 or 
ogoplex.com. Ogöplex is all-natural and 
safe to take. All the people I've spoken 
with have said taking the once-daily 
tablet has led to the roping effect Tina 
described in her letter. 

Aren't you glad you asked? 


je Ae) 


Jamie Ireland 


ДОО 


roof 


au" 


Authentic, uncensored hip-hop 
sensuality, celebrity and lifestyle. 


Used JULY 10,9pm E/10pm P 2 


PLAYBOY TV 


Playboy TV is avalabia from your local cable television operator or home satelite provider. 
©2004 Playboy Entertainment Group, Inc. All rights reserved. 


LAY OY 


WHAT'S HAPPENING, WHERE IT'S HAPPENING AND WHO'S MAKING IT HAPPEN 


wo go togcther 
like Jagger and Richards, like cognac and a fine cigar. Each 
is dynamite on its own, but combine them and the whole 
becomes so much greater than the sum of its parts. And 
while you're at it (the beach, that is), why not bring along a couple of 
supercomfortable chairs and a high-end portable gas grill? Here are 
a few tips on turning a day at the beach into the best day of your life. 


JAMES IMBROGNO. 


h, the beach and your favorite libation: The 


ENTER SANDMAN 


The least comfortable seat on the beach is...on the beach. Get your 
butt off that burning sand with the Sully sand chair from Charleston 
(below right, $120, charlestonbeachchair.com). It's built for comfort, 
but it can take a beating, and you can adjust it without standing up. 
Want a beach chair that rocks? The oak folding rocking chair (left, 
$70, everywherechair.com) brings fireside comfort to the seashore. 
Plus, it reclines—which will undoubtedly come in handy. 


Above: Trust the folks at Weber to free great grilling from the backyard. Their 
Baby Q gas grill ($130, webergrill.com) offers 189 square inches of grilling 
space in an eminently portable package. Slap on a couple of lobsters and 
you'll be everyone's best friend. Right: Don't settle for suds when you're sun- 
ning. Carry some quality hooch and carry it in style with Ayers Leather Shops” 
portable bar ($200, ayersleather.com). Stock it with gin, vodka and ver- 
mouth and you won't feel the sun blisters blooming on your face. Wine snobs 
should pack Picnic Yime's Harmony wine case ($55 to $67, picnictime.com), 
which has space for a bottle, two glasses and a corkscrew—instant sophis- 
tication, whether you're meditating in Bali or raging in Daytona. 


WD HOWTO BLY ON PAGE 153. 


WHERE A 


"m 


Pink Rock 
PINK's goals? 
m going to. 
take over the 
world, become 
president, 


We Hope She Knows Jack 

What would we do without JACK BLACK, who proves there’s 
nothing worse than an earnest trip down the red carpet? Here, 
instead of shaking hands and kissing Access Hollywood's butt, he 
grabs girliriend LAURA KIGHTLINGER and cops a feel. 


Heaven's 

Kate 

Just when we 
thought KATE 
BECKINSALE, 

the sexy hero- 


movies 
Van Hel- 
sing and 
Under- 
world, 
had per- 
manently 
gone over 
to the 
dark side, 
she shows 


Positively 
uplifting. 


Sophie's 
Choice 


When model 
SOPHIE 
ANDERTON 
hits runways, 


even male on- 
lookers devel- 
op a keen eye 
for fashion. 
We've dubbed 
this little La 
Perla number 
"sheer luck." 


Notorious К.1.М. 
It went from private show to privates showing when LIU KIM 
performed sans panties at New York's Canal Room. Why did 
she do it? As she sings, “You can't fuck with the queen bee." 


Smile, You're on See-Through Camera 
Everyone who's anyone goes to Vanity Fair's post-Oscars bash, 
but one woman stood out this year: ANGIE HARMON. Husband 
Jason Sehorn must have to intercept passes off the field, too. 


Slick 
Moves 

If you go to a 
topless beach 
this month, you 
may spot model 
BETTY STRAIT. 
Remember, 
gawk at your 
own risk. 


Migotpourri 


SHADY CHARACTER 


Sporasub's Samurai Elite mask ($65, sporasub 
usa.com) has mirrored lenses. And no, they're 
not there so you can look like CHiPs of the 
sea. Competitive spearfishers use them to 
avoid spooking fish with the movement of 
their eyes (tuna ain't dumb, ya know). Asa 
side benefit they provide the same advantage 
as the shades you wear for eyeing babes on the 
street. Now when you're snorkeling off your 
favorite resort beach you'll be free to admire all 
those breastfish, thighfish and giant-ass whales. 


SHOCK AND AWW 


Bored? Like pain? Try the electrifying party 
game Lightning Reaction (bottom, $30). Four 
people grab a handle, and when the central red 
light turns green players push their button. The 
slowest gets a four-volt elec- 
tric shock. Too nuanced? 


ұл Try Shocking Roulette 
($18), in which one of you 
O! gets zapped randomly. If 


that gets tired, revert to 
the old standby: stick- 


ing your finger in a 
g jo =» light socket. Both avail- 
able at shockingfun.com. 


осо 


172 


JOY RIDE 


If you use your bike mostly to bop 
around town, your high-end full- 
, suspension mountain jobbie is 
overkill. What you need is a 
À cruiser. Electra's Townie ($370 
to $720, electrabike.com) has 
м) ascatlow enough that you 
P can stand flat-footed, and 
т its pedals are pushed 
\ forward for full leg 
extension. Think ofit 
as a couch you can ride 
around the neighbor- 
hood—a couch with up 
/ to 24 speeds and a twist 
shifter. It's pure 
joy on two 


>, wheels. 


\ 


SUUNTO 


FACE VALUE 


Finally, a watch that has good reason to be digital. Suunto's 
MSN Direct watches deliver personalized news headlines, sports 
scores, stock quotes, messages and appointment reminders right 
to your wrist, thanks to a dedicated radio network, Even the 
mundane task of telling time gains extra sizzle with an assort- 
ment of downloadable digital faces. The Suunto n3 (above) will 
run you $300, but Fossil makes models starting at $129. Add 
$102 month or $59 a year for MSN Direct service. 


TAKING BUSH TO THE MAT 


Anti-Bush doormats are our tool of 
choice for scaring off Republican fund- 
raisers and Rush Limbaugh listeners. 
Bushdoormat.com offers mats ($30) 
emblazoned with Dubya’s smiling face 
above one of two messages (GIVE BUSH 
‘THE BOOT Or PLEASE WIPE YOUR FEET) that 
reduce politics to its very essence: child- 
ishness and mudslinging. The mats mea 
sure 18 by 27 inches and are 
washable. Just don't blame 
us when Dick Cheney eggs 
your house again. 


THE CUTTING EDGE 


Switzerland's army opens more cans before 
nine A.M. than most people do all day. 
Now you can get more than just a nail file 
and tiny scissors with your little red friend. 
Victorinox recently released its Swiss- 
Memory Plus model ($69, swissarmy.com), 
which features a fold-out 64-megabyte 
USB drive. Use it to store 
files, photos or secret plans 
for invading Zurich. 


HOT STUFF 


Silicone is used in so many of 
our favorite products—Formula 
1 cars, racing boats, gigantic 
fake breasts. Now we can add 
the Orka silicone oven mitt ($20 
to $30, isinorthamerica.com) to 
the list. Fashioned of ultra- 
high-density silicone polymer 
(which makes it heat resistant 
up to temperatures of 500 
degrees Fahrenheit), it's great 
for fishing food out of boiling 
oil or water, getting hands-on 
with the barbecue or proving to 
the neighborhood kids that 

you really are a crime-fighting 
superhero. The mitts come in 
two sizes (11 inches and 17 
inches) and six colors (to match 
that adorable apron of yours). 


DRESS FOR EXCESS 


You may not want to wear your heart on your sleeve, but there's 
nothing wrong with wearing your lust there. 
and Girl Playing Card cuff links ($65 a pair) are made of nickel- 
plated pewter and have bullet backs. (Note to company: Next time 
you make a set, we'd prefer an ace up our sleeve to a three of dia- 
monds.) Cruise over to cufflinks.com to find these, as well as ones 
featuring Elvis and, wonder of wonders, the Playboy Rabbit Head. 


These Pinup Girl 


GOD IS NOT MY CO-PILOT 


Pioneer's new AVIC-N1 ($2,200, 
pioneerelectronics.com), the 
first truly integrated aftermarket 
navigation and entertainment 
system, sports a 6.5-inch touch 
screen that does triple duty as 
an easy-to-read stereo controller, 
a movie screen and the hub of 
a GPS-enabled navigation and 
informatics system. The stereo 
plays CDs, MP3s and DVDs and 
is XM-satellite-radio ready. But 
the best part is, when not in use, 
it quietly folds away inside the 
dash so it doesn't look as if you 
need directions to find your 
corner grocery store. 


WHERE AND HOW TO BUY ON PAGE 153, 


B8NMext: Month 


a 
ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL? OUR NFL PREVIEW. 


WEE 


MATT DAMON: THE PLAYEOY INTERVIEW. 


CARD SHARKS—YOU'VE GOT TO KNOW WHEN TO HOLD 'EM 
AND WHEN ТО FOLD "EM. YOU'VE ALSO GOT TO KNOW WHEN 
TO WALK AWAY AND INVENT A NEW CASINO GAME THAT WILL 
MAKE YOU A MILLIONAIRE. MEET THE LATEST BREED OF 
GAMBLERS—THE GUYS BEHIND CARIBBEAN STUD, THREE- 
CARD POKER AND LET IT RIDE—WHO BET THEIR LIVES FOR 
RICH PAYOFFS. PLUS: WHAT ARE THE ODDS YOU COULD 
INVENT THE NEXT BIG GAME? BY JOHN BLOOM. 


MATT DAMON—HE HAS AN OSCAR IN HIS POCKET AND 
THREE BLOCKBUSTERS ON DECK (THE BOURNE SUPREMACY, 
OCEAN'S TWELVE AND THE BROTHERS GRIMM). UNDERNEATH 
IT ALLHE'S A NORMAL BEANTOWN KID WHO SMOKES, DRINKS 
AND DROPPED OUT OF HARVARD. THE MATT'S-EYE VIEW ON 
MIRAMAX'S HARVEY WEINSTEIN, THE BENNIFER DISASTER 
AND HIS HABIT OF FALLING FOR ACTRESSES, FROM WINONA 
TO MINNIE, PLAYBOY INTERVIEW BY STEPHEN REBELLO 


THE FOUR-STAR BACKYARD CHEF—WE HOOKED UP WITH 
FOUR OF AMERICA'S TOP CHEFS AND FOLLOWED THEM INTO 
THEIR KITCHENS FOR SOME COMMERCIAL-STYLE GRILLING. 
THE RESULTS? EASY GOURMET BARBECUE RECIPES FOR 
POULTRY, FISH AND STEAK, BY KENT BLACK 


=. 


v Ш 
ITS NOT TY. IT'S НВО FASHION} 


MEET MISS AUGUST, 


UP AGAINST THE WALL—AFTER A FIERCE STRUGGLE HE 
LANDED A JOB TEACHING EIGHTH-GRADE ENGLISH IN A 
GHETTO SCHOOL, THOUGH HE HADN'T TAKEN ANY OF THE 
REQUIRED COURSES AND HAD NO INTENTION OF DOING SO. 
THE JOB SAVED HIS LIFE. HELL, WITH VIETNAM ON THE HORI- 
ZON, ANYTHING WAS BETTER THAN INDUCTION INTO THE 
U.S. ARMY. FICTION BY T.C. BOYLE 


INSIDE THE ENTOURAGE—FOR EVERY REGULAR GUY WHO 
MAKES IT BIG IN HOLLYWOOD THERE'S A POSSE OF OB- 
NOXIOUS FRIENDS RIDING ON HIS COATTAILS. MEET THE 
STARS OF HBO'S HOTTEST NEW SERIES, ENTOURAGE, 
SHOWING OFF THE COOLEST NEW CLOTHING AT THE 
PLAYBOY MANSION. A FASHION EXCLUSIVE. 


PLUS: 20 QUESTIONS WITH SPIKE LEE, FRANK OWEN'S 
INVESTIGATION OF A VIOLENT DEATH ON THE STREETS OF 
DETROIT, OUR ANNUAL NFL PREVIEV/ (READ IT BEFORE JUMP- 
ING INTO THE OFFICE POOL), THE MOST GORGEOUS BAR- 
TENDERS IN AMERICA IN A THIRST-QUENCHING PICTORIAL, 
BABE OF THE MONTH LISA LIGON, BADASS SNEAKERS, PLAY- 
MATE OF THE YEAR CARMELLA DE CESARE REVEALING HER 
BEDROOM FANTASIES, AND MISS AUGUST, PILAR LASTRA. 


Playboy (ISSN 0032-1478), July 2004, volume 51, number 7. Published monthly by Playboy in national and regional editions, Playboy, 680 North 
Lake Shore Drive, Chicago, Illinois 60611. Periodicals postage paid at Chicago, Illinois and at additional mailing offices. Canada Post Cana 
dian Publications Mail Sales Product Agreement No. 40035534. Subscriptions: in the U.S., $29.97 for 12 issues. Postmaster: Send address change to 

174 Playboy, PO. Box 2007, Harlan, Iowa 51537-4007. For subscription-related questions, call 800-999-4438, or e-mail circ@ny.playboy.com.