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t's that time of year when your aging uncle
shows up for the holiday dinner to tell—
and demand you listen to—his tread-worn
jokes. c knows the feeling.
In his new story, Knock-Knock, the author of
Fight Club and Choke describes a father-son
relationship tortured by forced laughter and
honest silence. A century after his death,
another celebrated if less explicit (though he
did once compose an ode to onanism) story-
teller, I responds with timeless
wit to the conclusions of fortune-tellers who
were asked to read his handprints. The Palm
Readers is our exclusive, previously unpub-
lished excerpt from the forthcoming second
volume of the Autobiography of Mark Twain.
We had a chance to examine the palm of
at a Mansion party. We
accurately predicted the star of The Girls
Next Door and Kendra would again appear in
the magazine to rave reviews. See for your-
self in Simply Kendra. As you may have
heard, the global economy has a dark side.
In Vulture Capitalism,
investigates the preda-
tory creditors who make a killing
by squeezing the poor in Argen-
tina and the Congo. It's too bad
more of them aren't doing time.
author of
the prison memoir Mother Cal-
ifornia, is in the fourth decade
of a life sentence. He lyrically
recalls his final days of free-
dom in Last Days on the Other
Side of the Fences. On Decem-
ber 2 LeBron James returns to
the scene of the crime when
his new team, the Miami Heat,
plays for the first time since his
departure in the city he і said
to have betrayed. In City of Broken Dreams,
screenwriter and Cleveland resident .
defies anyone to mess with his
town. LeBron knows drama, as did Twenti-
eth Century Fox, which transformed Norma
Jeane Baker into a public performance
known as Marilyn Monroe. In (Secret) Mar- -
ilyn, « examines the

-=
contradictions of the actress's life based on à >
Fragments: Poems, Intimate Notes, Let-
ters, a new collection of Monroe's diary Kenneth E. Hartman
entries and other missives. Marilyn might
have identified with the anguish of novelist

whose sudden windfall after
Legends of the Fall caught him by surprise.
He recounts in Homesickness the salva-
tion he found in a remote Michigan cabin.

had some unexpected quiet
time last year when NBC snatched back
The Tonight Show, apparently because not
enough elderly uncles got the jokes. In the
Playboy Interview he discusses the ghost
of Christmas past (that’s you, Jay) and
future—his TBS gig, Conan, which debuted
last month. We hope our cabin has cable.

Aram Roston

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VULTURE “-
CAPITALISM:

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When disaster strikes, so do they—preying on the poor and the vulnerable.
investigates the unscrupulous creditors and low-life investors
who make a lavish living off the impoverished in Argentina and the Congo.

(SECRET) MARILYN
deconstructs Norma Jeane.
LAST DAYS ON THE OTHER SIDE
OF THE FENCES
recalls life before prison.
THE PALM READERS
responds to five fortune-tellers.
HOLIDAY SPIRIT
A toast to festive drinking. By
15 INNOVATIONS THAT WILL
CHANGE THE WORLD
reveals the most radical tech-
nologies on the horizon.
TIP-OFF 2011
A primer for the upcoming college hoops
season. By
HOLLYWOOD FIXER
Meet Aaron Cohen, private commando to the
stars. By

HOLIDAY GIFT GUIDE

The coolest toys to bestow this season.

HOMESICKNESS

on the joys of his remote cabin.

IF CELEBRITIES WERE SNOWMEN

Frosty caricatures by

CITY OF BROKEN DREAMS

blasts Cleveland haters.

CONAN O’BRIEN
Coco opens up about life before and after The
Tonight Show. By

OLIVIA WILDE

The Tron beauty talks to about
cars, aliens and getting married in а bus.

KNOCK-KNOCK

A son grasps at jokes to cope with his father’s
death. By

Gorgeous, funny and always sans filter, Kendra Wilkin-
son has nestled herself in the hearts of the masses by
being unabashedly herself. We gathered some of her
sexiest photos for your viewing pleasure, while our
Rabbit nestles himself close to Kendra’s heart.

SEX IN CINEMA 2010
From primal vampires to exotic ava-
tars, a look back at the year’s most
provocative on-screen moments.

PRIVATE DANCER
Polish beauty Nina Bajerska channels
Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis in
Black Swan for this erotic arabesque.

PLAYMATE: ASHLEY
HOBBS

Suffering from the winter blues?

Golden-haired beach beauty Miss

December will melt them away.
WHY WE LOVE THE ’80S

An ode to the in-your-face era of sexy
Lycra, leg warmers and big hair.

KENDRA WILKINSON

Everybody loves Kendra—especially |

us. We salute Hef’s former girlfriend
with a trove of her sexiest photos.

CLASSIC CARTOONS
OF CHRISTMAS PAST

A collection of quintessential holiday 7

cartoons from bygone issues.

Black-tie season is upon us. These
tuxedo tips from

will ensure that you sport your formal-
wear with finesse and style.

VOL. 57, NO. 11-DECEMBER 2010

104 PLAYMATE

ASHLEY HOBBS

THE WORLD OF PLAYBOY
Hef sits down with Jimmy Kimmel; Bridget
Marquardt hosts Playboy’s Good Life Party; Hef

| and Ray Bradbury hit up the Fahrenheit 451

screening; the Playboy Redux art exhibit opens
in Chicago.
HANGIN’ WITH HEF
Jane Fonda and Richard Perry visit Hef; Jack
Nicholson’s son takes a tour of the Mansion; Play-
mates Claire Sinclair, Crystal Harris and Hope
Dworaczyk take in weekend movie nights.
PLAYMATE NEWS
Miss December 2001 Shanna Moakler hosts Bridal-

= plasty on El; Miss March 1964 Nancy Scott finds
: joy in painting; Miss February 1999 Stacy Marie

Fuson is the face of Effen vodka.

PLAYBILL

DEAR PLAYBOY
AFTER HOURS
REVIEWS
MANTRACK
PLAYBOY ADVISOR
PARTY JOKES
GRAPEVINE

AN OBSOLETE WEAPON

оп how gun advo-
cates’ gains are bullets to the NRA.

THE UNITED STATES OF
ABSTINENCE

Why Americans never get tired of say-
ing no. By

PLAYBOY.COM

Nicholle
Lottman is the prettiest drink slinger in
all the land—see more of her online.
Playmate Jaime
Faith Edmondson models sexy gear from
this year’s top teams.

Like what you see
in this issue? Find even more of the best
gifts for guys this season online.

Enjoy safe-for-
work girls, gear and Internet hilarity at
thesmokingjacket.com.

PLAYBOY ON
TWITTER

Keep up with all things
Playboy at facebook.com/playboy and
twitter.com/playboy.

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PLAYBOY

PLAYBOY

HUGH M. HEFNER
editor-in-chief
JIMMY JELLINEK
editorial director
НІ Е В STEPHEN RANDALL deputy editor
ROB WILSON art director
LEOPOLD FROEHLICH managing editor

th [ © C h ri stm as 1 MATT DOYLE photography director
A.J. BAIME executive editor
AMY GRACE LOYD executive literary editor
STEVE GARBARINO writer at large

EDITORIAL
TIM MC CORMICK editorial manager FEATURES: CHIP ROWE senior editor
FASHION: JENNIFER RYAN JONES editor STAFF: JOSH SCHOLLMEYER senior editor;

ARANYA TOMSETH assistant editor; CHERIE BRADLEY senior assistant; GILBERT MACIAS senior editorial
assistant CARTOONS: AMANDA WARREN associate cartoon editor COPY: WINIFRED ORMOND copy chief;
BRADLEY LINCOLN, SANHITA SINHAROY copy editors RESEARCH: BRIAN COOK, LING MA,

N.L OSTROWSKI research editors CONTRIBUTING EDITORS: MARK BOAL, KEVIN BUCKLEY, GARY COLE,
SIMON COOPER, ROBERT B. DE SALVO, GRETCHEN EDGREN, KEN GROSS, DAVID HOGHMAN, WARREN KALBACKER,
ARTHUR KRETCHMER (automotive), JONATHAN LITTMAN, SPENCER MORGAN, JOE MORGENSTERN,
CHRISTIAN PARENTI, JAMES R. PETERSEN, ROCKY RAKOVIC, STEPHEN REBELLO, DAVID RENSIN, JAMES ROSEN,
DAVID SHEFF, DAVID STEVENS, ROB TANNENBAUM, ALICE K. TURNER

CHRISTOPHER NAPOLITANO editor at large

ART
SCOTT ANDERSON, BRUCE HANSEN Senior art directors; CODY TILSON associate art director;
CRISTELA P TSCHUMY digital designer; MATT STEIGBIGEL photo researcher;
PAUL CHAN Senior art assistant; STEFANI COLE senior art administrator

PHOTOGRAPHY
STEPHANIE MORRIS west coast editor; PATTY BEAUDET-FRANCES senior editor, entertainment;
KRYSTLE JOHNSON associate editor; BARBARA LEIGH assistant editor; ARNY FREYTAG, STEPHEN WAYDA Senior
contributing photographers; JAMES IMBROGNO, RICHARD IZUI, ZACH JOHNSTON, MIZUNO, GEN NISHINO,
JARMO POHJANIEMI, DAVID RAMS contributing photographers; BONNIE JEAN KENNY manager, photo archives;
KEVIN CRAIG manager, imaging lab; MARIA HAGEN Stylist

PUBLIC RELATIONS
THERESA M. HENNESSEY vice president; TERI THOMERSON director

PRODUCTION
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NEW YORK: BRIAN HOAR Spirits, gaming and entertainment manager; DAVID LEVENSON consumer
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FLEX YOUR ENGINE

HEF SIGHTINGS, MANSION FROLICS AND NIGHTLIFE NOTES

THE CONSUMMATE BACHELOR ON ABC

When Hef appeared on Jimmy Kimmel Live! to promote Hugh
Hefner: Playboy, Activist and Rebel, Jimmy Kimmel added “the
inventor of nudity” to Hef's many titles. The two bantered about
Hef being arrested for obscenity in the 1960s and Twittering in the
21st century. When the funnyman asked how one breaks up with
twins, Hef quipped, “You have to say, ‘Good-bye, good-bye.’”

MEN BEFORE THEIR TIME

“Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 was the perfect story for the 1950s
and рідувоү,” Hefner said. During Ray Bradbury Week in L.A. the
writer of the seminal novel and the man who serialized the work
were interviewed by The Los Angeles Times before the Playboy
Foundation’s screening of the movie based on the sci-fi classic.

TO THE GOOD LIFE
We dispatched a bevy of
buxom ambassadors—
Bridget Marquardt and
Playmates Tyran Richard,
Shannon James, Stephanie
Larimore, Lauren Ander-
son and Amanda Paige—to
our party during the Toronto |
International Film Festival.
Rapper Big Boi was less
curvy but also entertaining at
Playboy’s Good Life Party.

MODERN ART INSPIRED BY
THE ICONIC PLAYBOY BUNNY
Contemporary fine artists interpreted the
Playboy Bunny as part of our celebration
of the 50th anniversary of the Playboy
Clubs. The works, including (clockwise
from above left) Playboy Bunny by Tara
McPherson, Tim Biskup’s The Gorgon,
Golden Martini by Glenn Barr and Josh
“Shag” Agle’s Two Hours Past Bedtime,
hung in the Warhol Museum and then
the Rotofugi Gallery in an exhibition

called Playboy Redux. 13

5

Hosting celebrities, friends and beautiful women,
10236 Charing Cross Road may be called
Shangri-la, but we refer to it as the Playboy
Mansion and Hef calls it home. (1) The host
poolside in a robe with guests in less. (2) Hef
with Jane Fonda and legendary record pro- ||
ducer Richard Perry. (3) Miss October 2010
Claire Sinclair with pinup artist Olivia before
a Sunday movie. (4) June “the Bosom” Wilkin-
son with actor Michael Callan. (5) Hef gives
a tour to Jack Nicholson’s son Ray and his
fraternity brothers. (6) Hugh Hefner: Playboy,
Activist and Rebel documentarian Brigitte
Berman with Mary O’Connor. (7) Samantha
Crowley, Cooper Hefner, Hef and Crystal
Harris at the L.A. premiere of Berman’s film.
(8) Cristal Camden with Jon Lovitz ata PMW
screening. (9) Girls in the Grotto. (10) Crystal
and PMOY 2010 Hope Dworaczyk on movie night.
(11) Lorenzo Lamas and his fiancée, Shawna Craig.
(12) Marston Hefner flanked by Playmates Deanna
Brooks and Hiromi Oshima at the Partying for a
Purpose fete. (13) Hef with the Playmate Dancers
who strutted their stuff before an MMA event.

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РКІСЕ 520.00
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A compendium of cartoons hand-
picked by Hugh M. Hefner (who
also wrote the introduction).

SATIRIZING THE STATUS QUO. For more
than half a century, Playboy has show-
cased some of the world’s best and
brightest cartoonists. Playboy: The Car-
toons includes riotous work by such
favorites as Buck Brown, Jack Cole, Eldon
Dedini, John Dempsey, Jules Feiffer, Phil
Interlandi, Arnold Roth, Shel Silverstein,
Art Spiegelman and Gahan Wilson. This
368-page reprint of the classic 2004 edi-
tion will bring the best of visual humor to
your coffee table. Hip subversives and sly
revolutionaries all, Playboys artists offer
a sophisticated brand of humor sorely
missing in other men’s magazines.

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CALLING ALL JEWISH COWBOYS
What a treat to see Kinky Friedman in

the September issue (Greetings From Texas).
I'ma native Texan, and two of my favorite
people are Willie Nelson and Kinky. His
book Cowboy Logic is a gem, and I hope
he becomes a РГАУВОУ regular.

Bill Iglehart

New Port Richey, Florida

My subscription doesn’t expire until
2015, but ГІ add to it if you convince
Kinky to write a monthly column. A reg-
ular byline in РІЛҮВОҮ would truly be an
added feather in his yarmulke.

Harvey Garber
Cathedral City, California

GREEN WEED

In your report on California’s marijuana
industry (Grown in the USA, October), you
cite my estimate that the U.S. cannabis
market is worth $14 billion annually.
While proponents argue that a legal-
ize-and-tax strategy could rescue many
states, Katherine Waldock and I note in
a newly released report at cato.org that
the revenue gains in California would
be modest—roughly $350 million. That
excludes the $1 billion that might be
saved on police, prosecutors and prison
guards, assuming anyone has the politi-
cal will to lay them off. Proponents also
argue that legalization would create jobs
in supporting industries, but those jobs
already exist; they’re just underground.
Finally, there’s no guarantee street prices
would plummet if weed were legal. Prices
in countries with weak marijuana laws are
not much lower than those in California.
Cannabis should be legalized not for any
economic benefit but because government
should not infringe on individual free-
doms and because attempts to do so lead
to crime and corruption.

Jeffrey Miron
Cambridge, Massachusetts

Miron, a senior lecturer in economics at Har-
vard and a senior fellow at the Cato Institute, is
author of Libertarianism From A to Z.

KING OF BOURBONS
I’ve tasted each of the bourbons you
feature in The Playboy Bar: Bourbon (Octo-
ber) except Pappy Van Winkle’s, which
I look forward to trying. My bourbon
of choice is Fighting Cock (fightingcock
сот), which a friend introduced me to
some 30 years ago. It’s a 103-proof, corn-
and-rye Kentucky bourbon aged six years.
It makes the best bourbon-and-ginger-ale
highball you will ever taste.
John Simpkins
Austintown, Ohio

BACK TO BASICS
What an issue! Between Miss October
Claire Sinclair (Vintage Model) and Girls of
the PAC 10, it’s great to see PLAYBOY return-
ing to its girl-next-door roots.
Aaron Mason
Saint John, New Brunswick

Hair Today, Gone...

Sasha Grey (Grey’s Anatomy, October)
is a smart, beautiful and brave woman
for bucking the ugly trend of shaved
pubic areas. I wish PLAYBOY would
go back to its noble roots of showing
women in their natural state—the vulva
is not as beautiful as the breast, which is
why the creator put hair there.

Esper Nasrallah
Ottawa, Ontario

We'd call it a tie. While breasts grab our
attention, pubic hair may trap pheromones
that keep us engaged. You'll be pleased to
learn that, according to a new survey by the
Kinsey Institute, most American women still
have bush. Those who don’t are more likely
to be younger. Nearly 70 percent of women
under 25 reported removing some or all.

CLASSIC TV
Thank you for Kevin Cook’s excel-

lent history of Monday Night Football in
the October issue (The Biggest Gamble in
Sports History). As someone born at the
height of the baby boom, I think two
shows define my generation—Saturday
Night Live and MNE

Paul Pruitt

Tarpon Springs, Florida

A COP NAMED JOSH

About 10 years ago, on the set of the
film Coastlines, in Sopchoppy, Florida, I
met a down-to-earth guy who looked like

Lawman Josh Brolin in the film Coastlines.

a policeman. We shared a lot of laughs, so
I was later bummed to learn he was not
a local cop but an actor named Josh Bro-
lin who would head on down the road
(Playboy Interview, October). I still laugh
at myself about it. Great interview!

Bert Ivey

Tallahassee, Florida

PEE-WEE FAN CLUB

As a child of the 1980s I can’t tell you
how inspired I am by your Playboy Inter-
view with Paul Reubens, a.k.a. Pee-wee
Herman (September). Reading his words
is like finding an old childhood toy and
realizing it has many features and cool
aspects you never noticed when you
played with it as a kid. Please let Reubens
know I adored him as a little girl, think he
is hilarious as a grown-up and love him
more than ever for his honesty.

Alyson Shelton
Las Vegas, Nevada

Reubens is a hero among today’s
grown children. We all understand media
sensationalism, and it’s a shame he has
been a target for so long. His interview
brought back vivid memories of the first
time I felt screwed by the Man: I was in
elementary school and they scheduled a
snow-day makeup on a Saturday, mean-
ing I had to miss the new episode of
Pee-wee’s Playhouse.

Philip Jaeger
Louisville, Kentucky

THANKS AND NO THANKS
I appreciate being named your pre-
season Coach of the Year (Playboy's Pigskin
Preview, September). I have the plaque
proudly displayed in my office.
Gary Patterson
Texas Christian University
Fort Worth, Texas

It’s clear to me your magazine has a
bias against SEC teams. You did not pick
Alabama as your number one team last
year, and you were wrong. And now you
haven't selected it again, when every
other magazine and poll in the coun-
try did. You'll be wrong again. A trip by

17

your sports editor to Tuscaloosa to see the
Crimson Tide is long overdue.
Charles Smith
Tuscaloosa, Alabama

JENNY ON AUTISM

As a health professional I am dis-
appointed to see you describe Jenny
McCarthy as a “serious, thoughtful” per-
son on parenting and autism when she is
behind the dangerous anti-vaccine move-
ment (Playmate News, September). It also
saddens me to learn Miss September
Olivia Paige considers McCarthy a role
model on this subject.

Miguel Gonzalez
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

Jenny is serious and thoughtful. But you’re
right. There is no evidence that vaccines cause
autism. Jenny says neither she nor her group,
Generation Rescue, are anti-vaccine or tell par-
ents not to vaccinate. Instead, she says she is
fighting for “safer” vaccines. Some pediatricians
and public-health officials say her high-profile
skepticism has contributed to the resurgence of
long-dormant maladies such as measles and
meningitis. “She’s a mom,” her then-boyfriend,
actor Jim Carrey, told Time magazine earlier this
year. “That's what she is. That's her truth.”

MORE ON CORNEL WEST
In your Playboy Interview (August), Cor-
nel West says there are no poor people in
Norway or Sweden. What he doesn’t men-
tion is the combined income and sales-tax
rates in those countries can top 50 per-
cent. Are we ready for a tax burden like
that to help the poor?
Mason Smith
Staunton, Virginia
That may be changing. In Denmark, where
the combined taxes can also top 50 percent and
public assistance is a constitutional right, the
government this past summer cut unemploy-
ment benefits from four years to two.

A colleague just shared with me your
interview with West, who chases down
with aplomb the specter of the “angry
black man”—a potent device for the
demonization of black men as evil incar-
nate. But it’s also paradoxical. Barack
Obama can be portrayed as a raging
black man (e.g., Glenn Beck’s claim the
president has a “deep-seated hatred for
white people”) and the next moment be
described as emotionally flaccid (e.g.,
Obama’s “clenched jaw” rejoinder to the
BP oil spill). But West falls short when
considering gender relations. While he
laments a market “driven by the insatia-
ble desire for personal pleasure, property,
power, ego satisfaction,” it is coupled to
his praise for PLAYBOY's role as “a very
important institution...because there’s
nothing wrong with looking at beautiful
women.” Well, there can be a lot wrong
with looking when the gaze (regardless
of intention) produces a view of women
as objects arranged for pleasure, prop-
erty and ego satisfaction. Given West’s
identification of nihilism as the enemy of

equality, where did the value, meaning
and purpose of women to be free of such
a gaze go? Indeed, Professor West, where
is the love?

Matthew Hughey

Starkville, Mississippi

Hughey, a sociology professor at Missis-

sippi State, is co-editor of the forthcoming The
Obamas and a (Post) Racial America?

LET THE SUN SHINE IN
In Raw Data (October) you report
that “the sunlight reaching Earth today
is 10,000 to 170,000 years old.” That is
wildly incorrect. Sunlight travels from the
solar surface to Earth in 8.32 minutes.
Photons generated at the heart of the sun
take around a million years to get to the
surface, but that is a different question
and still a far cry from your figures.
Charles Maitland
Memphis, Tennessee
The million-year figure has been discredited;
more precise calculations place the time it takes
sunlight to travel from the solar core to Earth

A “prominence eruption” on the solar surface.

in the range we shared. See sunearthday.nasa
.g0v/2007/locations/ttt_sunlight.php.

SIZE MATTERS

I enjoyed the 20Q with John Varva-
tos (September), but he complains that
other designers make clothing for “a lit-
tle skinny boy” while his clothes are “very
masculine.” Yet just about all the large
shirts I tried on at his Las Vegas store
were ridiculously small. Not even an XXL
was comfortable. I’m not sure who he uses
as size models, but they are not larges.

Vincent Marino
Staten Island, New York

Our fashion editor, Jennifer Ryan Jones,
responds: “Varvatos definitely designs for an
American’ fit, which is more eased than Euro-
pean sizing. But his clothes have a shape, and
wearing them won’t feel the same as throwing
on an XXL T-shirt. It’s like putting on dress
shoes after you've worn flip-flops all summer.
Clothes look better when they fit, no matter
what size you are.”

E-mail via the web at LETTERS.PLAYBOY.COM Or write: 680 NORTH LAKE SHORE DRIVE, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 60611

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PLAYBOY AFTERHOURS

BECOMING ATTRACTION

You want a paradigm?
Natalin Avci is happy
to oblige. “People in
Turkey and in the Turk-
ish American com-
munity watch what I
do,” says the model-
actress, who has ap-
peared in Eminem,
Jadakiss and Jamie
Foxx music videos.
“They like that I'm
showing the world
what a Turkish woman
looks like.” And so
Natalin has the poten-
tial to do for Turkish
females what Kim
Kardashian has done
for Armenian femmes.
“Turkish culture is all

about eating, drinking
and dancing,” she says.
“Turkish women are on

Dining
Overnight Delivery

%-

To honor the feast before us, a new with the quintet of cheeses—Haystack Peak, corn bake (5140, jackstackbbq
dinner blessing: Father in heaven, Brillat Savarin, Tilsiter, Pecorino Foglie di Noce .com) will tax your stain remover
accept our thanks for this food and and Colston Bassett Stilton—found in the pre- but exile your hunger for days. To
all thy blessings—including, but not mier package from NYC-based Murray’s Cheese make the proceedings extra sweet
limited to, the miracle of dry ice for ($150, murrayscheese.com). For a taste of the order a key-lime pie from Key West
preserving our meal during its cross- sea, try a presteamed crustacean from Glouces- standard the Blond Giraffe (S30,
country journey and the swiftness of ter’s Fresh Lobster Company (567, thefresh blondgiraffe.com). And because
FedEx for delivering it to our table lobstercompany.com). The barbecue is from a palate requires cleansing, take
within hours. That’s right—the tasty Kansas City—specifically Fiorella’s Jack Stack frequent sips of Deschutes Brew-
spread assembled above was com- Barbecue. Its smoky repast of pork spare ribs, ery’s winter ale, Jubelale (513 per
pletely mail ordered. Start noshing sliced beef brisket, hickory pit beans and cheesy 22-ounce bottle, bevmo.com).

The Quick and the Deadline

How to Write a Novel in
Three Days

Every Labor Day weekend since 1977, the
International 3-Day Novel Contest has

pitted tire-
less writ- m
ers against

each other

in a coffee- SNOWMEN
fueled, plot- MARK
weaving
literary jug-
gernaut.
Contestants
begin writ-
ing at 12:01
АМ. on Sat-
urday and
must put
down their
pencils (or FREEZE FRAME

quit typing) Snowmen by Mark Sedore,
at 11:59 p.m, Winner of the 3-Day Novel
Contest, out now from
Arsenal Pulp Press.

on Monday.
Writers can
craft their fictions anywhere they want
(judges trust the honor system). Some get
nutritional advice from professional ath-

ABOVE LEFT: DORIAN LEIGH, 1949. ABOVE RIGHT: SUNNY HARNETT,

Avedon in Focus 1954. ABOVE: NATY AND ANA-MARIA ABASCAL, 1964. letes, others just get drunk. Second prize
. equals $500, and the winner gets his or her
Pack your bankroll and head for the City of novel published. Hot off the presses: Snow-

Lights. As this issue of PLAYBOY hits newsstands, Christie's will bring to auction in Paris the men by Mark Sedore (515, Arsenal Pulp
largest number of Richard Avedon works ever. Avedon shot everyone from Marilyn Monroe Press, amazon.com), winner of last year's
to Michael Moore (many of Avedon's portraits appeared in this magazine) and is the only pho- contest. To register for next year's 3-Day

tog we can think of whose fame came to outshine many of his subjects. Feast your eyes. Novel Contest, go to 3daynovel.com.

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a mad scramble to secure their claim before it’s too late.
Let them scramble.
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tanzanite, the precious stone loved for its vivid violet-blue
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(1,000 times rarer than diamonds) in our spectacular
Tanzanite Cluster Ring with a suggested retail of $795
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this magnificent ring for Better Than
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Smart Luxuries—Surprising Prices

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EVERY MAN SHOULD OWN
(ED motorcycle MA ，

Back in the Golden Age of motorcycling,
the Brits battled the Italians for Grand
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(British) and MV Agusta (Italian) bikes
two of the hottest brands in the world in
the late 1950s. Shop for those bikes to-
day at walnecks.com and channel your
inner GP racer.

O VINL

Old album sleeves can be as fascinating as
the music inside. The sleeve for The Rolling
Stones' Sticky Fingers was dreamed up by
Andy Warhol, for example. Hunt for your
favorites at vintagevinyl.com.

© PINBALL

Ever since you were a young boy, you
played the silver ball. If you want to relive
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mem se t 4

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AFTER HOURS Т)

JEAN-PAUL

N

Classic Look of the Month
Breathless

FRENCH CONNECTION: Garrison
wool sports jacket ($1,450) by Polo
Ralph Lauren; shirt ($236) by Gucci;
charcoal wool flannel trousers
($295) by Burberry; Jaxon Bogart
fedora ($88) from the Village Hat
Shop; black-and-white neat silk tie
($86) by Ike Behar; black Peyton
oxfords ($60) by Stacy Adams.

When Jean-Luc Godard named his first feature film Breathless (1960), he might as well
have been describing women's reaction to its star Jean-Paul Belmondo, who plays a
sly thief on the run from the cops on the gritty streets of Paris. A small film made
for just 400,000 francs, Breathless played a seminal role in cinema's French New
Wave because of (1) Godard's unique jump cuts and extemporaneous dialogue, (2)
Jean Seberg's gorgeous cheekbones and (3) Belmondo's devil-may-care style. A new
restored print of Breathless is now out on Blu-ray; pick it up at Amazon.com ($30).
To re-create Belmondo's timeless look, see caption above.

Car Park

Years in the making, the highly anticipated
Ferrari World in Abu Dhabi has finally opened.
Climb aboard the world's fastest roller coaster,
Formula Rossa, and rocket to 149 mph in four
seconds flat. Step aboard the V12—a water-
flume ride that takes you through a Ferrari 599
engine. “You go in through the grille and then
get taken high up above the manifold,” says a
park spokesperson. “At the end you're shot out
of the tailpipe.” The price of a ticket? About
$60, not including airfare to the Middle East.

ВЕ REMEMBERED. |
Kane M BLACK

Sk (бағ ecc

THE TIMELESS MEN'S FRAGRANCE BY KENNETH COLE. E EAU DE TOILETTE SPRAY

EAU DE TOILETTE VAPORISATEUR

AFTER HOURS

Friendly Skies

For 30 years Nick Gleis has photographed the private planes of heads of state and
royalty from Japan, South Korea, Saudi Arabia, Mexico, the United Arab Emirates
and more. While he cannot share their names, he can share the images of these
winged palaces—so you can indulge the fantasy. Ready for takeoff?

Pretty in Pink
The Bunny
Storm Trooper

Jason Alper is co-creator of
Sacha Baron Cohen's characters
Borat, Ali С and Brüno. So it's no
surprise his debut art show at the
Guy Hepner Gallery in West Holly-
wood raised eyebrows with its
determined absurdity and clash
of pop-culture iconographies: a
huge American flag crafted out
of rubber, hand grenades and
M-14 military rifles; Caravaggio's
The Incredulity of Saint Thomas
rethought with Jesus clad in a
sweet Louis Vuitton robe. But it
was Alper's Mr. Pink (pictured)—
a wall-mounted Playboy Bunny
storm trooper made of foam
and acrylic set against black
Plexiglas—that stole the show.

> А
BARMATE бо

WO

IN SEARCH OF АМЕКІСА5
HOTTEST BARTENDERS

KATRINA: Can I interest you in a Jell-O shot?
PLAYBOY: What are the special flavors at
McFadden's at 42nd and Second in New York?
KATRINA: Tangerine, cherry and lime.
PLAYBOY: Do you have a favorite?

KATRINA: I like lime the best.

PLAYBOY: Makes sense—green in an Irish bar.
How does one shoot a substance such as Jell-O?
KATRINA: You loosen it up like this. [sticks
finger inside shot glass and swirls, then licks
finger and smacks lips]

PLAYBOY: Now that's saleswomanship!
KATRINA: I'm not just a Jell-O shot girl; I am
quite the hustler if I do say so myself.
PLAYBOY: With booty shorts like that you don't
need any other gimmick.

KATRINA: They're Nike yoga shorts.
PLAYBOY: Have you considered posing nude?
KATRINA: Oh, I went to art school. It was
practically a requirement.

PLAYBOY: Art school, eh?

KATRINA: Yes. When I'm not serving Jell-O
shots I'm a painter and photographer.
PLAYBOY: We'd love to see your work, and
when we do, we'll bring you a Jell-O shot. Do
you have a secret to making them?

KATRINA: There's a lot of nude me in my
creative work. As for the

Jell-O shots, it's pretty

simple—stripped down.

Read the directions on
the box of your favor-
ite flavor, but instead of
water, use a half mea-
sure of vodka. Let the
concoction set in plastic
shot cups.

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AFTER HOURS REVIEWS

Movie of the “т”.

Тгоп: Гедасу
By Stephen Rebello

Fans have been jonesing since 1982 for a
sequel to Tron, the breakthrough sci-fi
action thriller that trapped computer
hacker Jeff Bridges in a trippy cyberworld
of neon-tinged villains and weapons. Now
comes the big-screen 3-D Tron: Legacy,
with Bridges reuniting with his computer-
whizson (Garrett Hedlund) to battle strange
new worlds, massive firepower and dia-
bolical baddies, guided by warrior woman
Olivia Wilde. Bruce Boxleitner reprises his
role as the titular character. “This Tron is
darker and more dangerous, much like the
world we now live in,” says Boxleitner.
“We'll blow people's socks off with the
technical stuff but also surprise them with
how unexpectedly moving and heartbreak-
ing the scenes between d Garrett
are. Expectation levels igh that it
scares the hell out of me, but if people think
they can sit through this one and nitpick,
good luck, because it delivers big-time.
Who knows? Maybe we'll do it again.”

The Fighter This Rocky-esque saga is based
on the life of boxer “Irish” Mickey Ward (Mark
Wahlberg), who overcomes the influence of
his drug-ridden trainer (Christian Bale) to
become a world champion. Amy Adams plays
a tough F-bomb-dropping bartender.

How Do You Know Reese Witherspoon finds
herself in a romantic squeeze play between
Paul Rudd and pro ballplayer Owen Wilson.
We might shrug this rom-com off if it weren't
the latest from writer-director James L.
Brooks with co-star Jack Nicholson.

га

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1
After six blockbusters we’re now down to
the short strokes. Daniel Radcliffe sets out
with his friends to meet his destiny-a
to-the-death confrontation with the evil Lord
Voldemort (Ralph Fiennes) and his minions.

The Next Three Days Russell Crowe—with
help from ex-con Liam Neeson—masterminds
a jailbreak for his murder-suspect wife in
Paul Haggis's retooling of the French thriller
Pour Elle. Crowe's descent into hell makes
for a bloody vengeance melodrama.

Love and Other Drugs Anne Hathaway tan-
gles with hotshot drug-company rep Jake
Gyllenhaal in this sexy comedy-drama.
Gyllenhaal, who has made a killing peddling
Viagra, falls hard for Hathaway, but a sudden
tragedy could result in a flaccid future.

Black Swan Director Darren Aronofsky
brings the bizarre in this psychodrama, with
Natalie Portman playing a competitive bal-
lerina and Mila Kunis as her rival and lover.
Think The Wrestler and The Red Shoes meet
All About Eve and an Italian crime thriller.

Shop for the Holidays at FuocoNero.com
Ties, bow ties, belts fragrances and even our socks come to you
beautifully packaged and ready for any gift giving event.

Shop now at fuoconero.com

*

FUOCO NERO

The Online Store For Men If you know a guy who likes

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the manly smell of Brut.
Check out BrutSlap.com
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Astroglide

Give the gift you'll both enjoy over
and over again this season. Nab
some Astroglide X Premium Silicone
Lubricant as that special stocking
stuffer and turn your holidays from
ho-hum to hot, hot, hot.

Call 1-800-858-4900

Call now to take advantage of DIRECTV's special holiday offer.
Call 1-888-866-2880 or visit directv.com

Surround yourself

with Playmates

Who knew staying organized could
be so sexy? The 2011 Playmate
calendar showcases a beautiful
Playmate for each month — making it
impossible for you not to check

your calendar every day.

Order yours now at
playboystore.com

Four unforgettable days and nights of golfing and partying with athletes,
celebrities, Playboy Playmates and over 300 Girls of Playboy Golf.
Package includes hotel, gift bag, three themed parties (host hotel),

golf at award winning Pacific Palms Golf Resort and two parties at the
Playboy Mansion (including Lingerie & PJ Party). Reserve your spot now -
call 973-287-6288 or email finals? playboygolf.com

AFTER R

OS

TU. DVDs Worth Giving

ЛЕМІ

By gan

M. We're dreaming of a Blu-ray

Christmas, but the box we
reach for first—

—is
available only with
DVDs. It includes
Gilda and Cover

Girl, plus
the DVD
debuts of
- Tonight
N and

Every

Night, Miss Sadie Thompson and Salome.

The massive
comes with a coffee-table book
and divides the films—from The

Grapes of Wrath to Avatar—
among three chronological
volumes. The day-making
DVDs-and-book set

OA

Д

collects the octoge-
narian's complete Warner
Bros. catalog, from Dirty
Harry up to Invictus, as well
as critic Richard Schickel's
documentary The Eastwood
Factor. The African Queen

JO

[E a

Must-Watch TV

The Walking
Dead Get Lively

Zombies have never seemed so alive as
they do in The Walking Dead, AMC's bril-
liant adaptation of Robert Kirkman's
comic series. Under writer-director Frank
Darabont (The Shawshank Redemption),

these crawlers are creatures to be pitied
as much as feared. Yet they're secondary
to a much more compelling tale of post-
apocalyptic survival. The story centers
around a sheriff (Andrew Lincoln) and
his quest to reunite with his family, but
there are hints of Mad Max-style
explorations of societal breakdown.
George Romero, who long ago realized
the allegorical power of the living dead,
would approve. УУУУ —Josef Adalian

finally debuted on disc
| this year, so spring for
the full Blu-ray or DVD

|
| Ly
à leu which
A offers a reprint of Kath-
arine Hepburn's mem-
oir of the experience. The new

Blu-ray brings the 1957 masterpiece to
high def with a fresh
restoration, detailed 0
in a book-format T
package with rep-

uty
lica lobby cards. The Den if

15-disc set | “

promises 30 new- :
to-DVD hours’ worth
of the master at work, with highlights
from some 50 episodes.
Blu-ray set
compiles all the bonus material
produced for the films’ earlier
editions while adding hours of
new treats, as well as the op-
tion of buying the set housed in
a scary-cool replica Alien pod.
While the new

can also be had on DVD, the
restored picture and sound ele-

You've created and produced
shows, such as Two and a Half Men and
Mike & Molly, that have a very average-
Joe feel to them. It never feels as if you’re
trying to impress anyone intellectually.

When I was a musician there
was this term playing for the band. Jazz
musicians would play for each other and
ignore the fact that there was an audi-
ence. That’s one way to go. But I think
when you're doing a half-hour comedy
you have a contract with the audience

to try to make them laugh.
And if critics don't give you
the love they do other sitcoms....

In the past I've been some-
what immature in my response to that
sort of thing. But I'd like to think I'm
getting better at it. Some people watch
the shows in such a way that they are
not just something to do to pass the
time; they mean something to them. If
that's not enough, then 1'm going to be
forever disappointed.

You get away with a lot of
risqué humor on Two and a Half Men.

First of all, it’s funny. If it
weren’t funny, there would be no
defense for it. But the network is con-
stantly telling us when we've gone too
far. At this point, though, I think the

ments scream

out for this Blu-ray de-

but of Robert Zemeckis's be-

loved sci-fi series. Steven Spielberg's
WWII opus is a successor to
Band of Brothers and arrives in a deluxe
tin, either on Blu-ray or DVD. If you pre-
fer 19th century frontier viscera—and
21st century pro- --
fanity—there’s

finally a Blu-ray

edition of

The
wildly fun drama

features a pair of
playboy plastic
surgeons who
plow their way
through midlife
crises with their
chins and their
dicks. We should
all be so lucky.

people who are offended have long
since quit the show.

Charlie Sheen seemed to
come close to quitting Men last spring.
Given what your show did for his career,
did that piss you off?

When an actor makes a ton of

a Half Men 4$

money on something
I'm working оп, it
means I’m doing
my job. In Char-
lie’s defense, the
amount of mon-

ey paid to actors
was set many
years ago by the
casts of Friends
and Seinfeld. He
wasn't creating a
new rule book.

CONSIDER YOURSELF W/

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Tu des

talks about "Fuck “fuck you” to?

You,” the feel-good hit of 2010
from his newest solo album, The
Lady Killer.

We'll ask the ques-
tion everyone wants to ask you:
Who exactly are you saying

in particular. It’s

Books
Too Good to E-Read

There are some books that are too ambitious for an e-reader.
The best illustrated books simply defy the smaller screen—
particularly those of coffee-table dimensions and sacred-text
heft, with graphics so lush in their presentation and juxtaposi-
tions from one page to the next that they translate as poorly
electronically as sculpture. Naked: The Nude in America is a
perfect example. A voluptuous cultural and art history of the
male and female figure in our country from the 18th century to
the present, it tracks our nation's schizophrenic attitudes
toward the flesh, its cycling prudery and its artistic variety.
Sophie Crumb's eponymous autobiography, rendered in chron-
ological personal drawings, admits to all the temptations and
torments of the corporeal, recounting a coming-of-age vivid
with rebellion and unabashed grotesquery; it not only honors
Crumb's provenance but the paper necessary to draw out her
vision. Daido Moriyama has been chron-

тик DAILY SHOW WITH JON STEWART PRESENTS

Album of the Month
The Kings Dethroned

By Rob Tannenbaum

A pigeon in Missouri made music history this sum-
mer by crapping on Kings of Leon, causing the band
to quit its set after only three songs. What kind of
Southern rock band is deterred by pigeons? Lynyrd
Skynyrd would have slaughtered those dirty birds
with illegal handguns.

Their names are Southern, as is their long hair, and
on Come Around Sundown, the new Kings CD, singer
Caleb Followill drawls about displacement and root-
lessness, which is also very Southern. The music is
striking for its shameless similarity to U2's Rattle
and Humera, stirred up with enough echo to re-create
the acoustics of the Grand Canyon. It adds grandeur
and masks Followill’s weakness for melancholy
howling and his habit of repeating a five-word hook

over and over. And over and over. See how an-
noying that gets? ¥¥

gal. Times are trying,

Fuck you. No, по one times are tense, and
like “fuck people need an ex-
this, fuck that.” It’s meant to
be an exclamation point. This
song reminds us of a time опе in Denmark. The world
when rock and roll was ille-

cuse to let loose.
“Fuck You” went number

is in on this joke.

icling “the world through his eyes” (thus the title of his collec-
tion) as an itinerant street photographer since the 1960s. His
black-and-white images of urban Japan claim the territory
between sensual and estranging; printed on heavy paper and
streaming without written commentary from street, subway
and crime scenes to portraits and nudes, they are haunting
memorials to life captured and gone in an instant. Glad to envi-
sion the human society all but gone, the writers of The Daily
Show With Jon Stewart have turned the occasion of the apoca-
lypse into a learning opportunity for aliens. What better way to
learn about the planet's former inhabitants than through Earth
(the Book): A Visitor’s Guide to the Human Race, a searing
and richly silly satire in grand encyclopedic form? DC Comics:
The 75th Anniversary Poster Book is simply too good for a
time capsule (or an e-reader); it collects 100 of the most iconic
covers in comic book history (all in tear-out and framable poster
form) by masters such as Steve Ditko and Alex Ross, revealing
the often surprising genesis of superheroes and antiheroes
and the power and range of the medium.

—Amy Grace Loyd

NAKED

HE NUDE IN AMERICA

SOPHIE CRUMB:
EVOLUTION OF A
, CRAZY ARTIST

3C 9/5 ANNIVERSARY POSTER BOOK

INCLUDES 100 READY-TO-FRAME COVERS

EDITED BY A.& R. CRUMB

AFTER THE YEAR'S BEST VIDEO-GAME MOMENTS

Best Reason to
Join the Dark Side

By Jason Buhrmester
Even someone as diabolical as
Darth Vader should realize that
cloning Jedis sounds like a bad
idea. Yet that’s the story line of
Star Wars: The Force Unleashed 2,
a game set in the period between
the last prequel and the original
Star Wars movie. The action kicks
off in a galaxy far, far away as
Vader unveils a clone of Starkill-
er, the apprentice who sacrificed
himself to save the Rebel Alli-
ance in the original Force Un-
leashed. When Vader deems the
clone defective and plans to
destroy him, players must help
Starkiller escape and seek out
Yoda with the entire Empire in
hyperspeed pursuit. Now if he
could only figure out where Jar
Jar Binks is hiding.

|

Ex-Spartan When his ho Investigate
Kratos journeys from Hades and daughter is s kidnapped in Splinter Cell: missing human colonies in Mass
back on a quest to destroy Zeus. In Conviction, Sam Fisher uses everything Effect 2 with Subject Zero, a tattooed
God of War 3 he gets his chance. from mirrors to urinals to get results. rageaholic with psychic powers.

Best Destruction
of Vegas

Creating | Y А | In Castlevania
SQUE TT took 12 years, but one : £e ( ме аге reminded of what we loved
session of intergalactic action wiped T А: about vampires and werewolves
out our social calendar for a month. 2 t i before Twilight—killing them.
я > Two of our favorite games take Sin
City to the dark side. In Dead Ris-
ing 2 you must survive 72 hours in
a zombie apocalypse. The party is
over in Fallout: New Vegas, in
which you cross a postwar Vegas
to deliver a mysterious package.

+ AP

Boston Celtic

ES

Our inner | "чаза > 2 п Just when all the
gunfighter needs Red Dead Redemp- ; FR " ші King ieee петте sapped the fun
tion. Who doesn't want to blast mouthy > out of basketball, along comes NBA
ranchers іп slow-motion duels? 7 я T Jam to rekindle our love of the court.

WHEN: FEBRUARY 3, 2011 - FEBRUARY 7, 2011
WHERE: DALLAS, TX

WHAT: ROUNDTRIP AIRFARE, FOUR NIGHT HOTEL & EXCLUSIVE
AGCESS TO BUD LIGHT-SPONSORED EVENTS, INGLUDING THE

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= No Purchase Necessary. Sweepstakes open to residents of the United States (except CA) who are 21 years of age or older. Sweepstake І 4 4 * Ae
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©2010 Playboy. АІ rights reserved.
PLAYBOY and Rabbit Head Design are trademarks of Playboy Enterprises International Inc. and used with permissi

40

AFTER ELSEWHERE AT PLAYBOY

Playboy TV
Warm Up at
Playboy’s
Beach House

Are gray skies and chilly temps giv-
ing you a serious case of the winter
doldrums? Playboy TV has the per-
fect cold-weather reprieve: Begin-
ning this month, you can escape to
sunny California every week with-
out leaving the comfort of your Пу-

ing room. Just tune in to Playboy

TV's sexy new reality series

Playboy's Beach House, which pre-

mieres on December 3 (nine p.m. ЕТ/

PT) and be transported to a tropical

paradise. Each episode is packed

with gorgeous girls, and every week

live bands, DJs, celebrity guest Й Y AS
bartenders and Playboy TV's hot- “=

test hosts convene at an oceanfront ^ I

Malibu mansion to get wet and wild

at the sexiest pool party in the country. Playmates such
as Miss October 2010 Claire Sinclair and Miss August
2009 Kristina Shannon make appearances, along with
musical guests LMFAO, Lil’ Jon, Jesse McCartney, Girli-
cious, Steel Panther, 30H!3 and many more. Join in the

Playboy Digital
Miss Social,
Round Two

This summer Playboy held
its first-ever Miss Social
contest, a nonnude model
search decided by
Playboy fans. Sixteen
finalists squared off,
and one girl prevailed:
Krystal Harlow, a
19-year-old Southern
belle from Raleigh,
North Carolina. Krystal
and a friend won a trip
to Los Angeles for a
tour of the Mansion, a
shoot at Playboy's
Studio West and a day
onthe setof Playboy's UN
Beach House. The 7
next search for Miss Social

is currently under way. This

time, in addition to winning a

photo shoot and PLAYBoY pic- >
torial, the winner will become

an in-game character in Big-

point Games’ Poisonville. To see
more pics of Miss Social or to
enter the Miss Social search,
visit playboymisssocial.com.

fun and enjoy the sight of beautiful bikini-clad babes get-
ting down in the surf and sand. You may not be able to
take a vacation to a warm destination this winter, but that
doesn't mean you can't enjoy all of summer’s bounty. Go
to playboytv.com for more information.

“>

Need a break? Playboy's
safe-for-work sister site is
the place to go for both
beautiful women and come-
dic relief. The Smoking Jacket
is updated daily with sexy
nonnude pictorials, awe-
some giveaways, funny 4
videos and hilarious „44
Internet fodder. Visit
thesmokingjacket.com. es

A Ca rtoon CARTOONS 2011 BOX CALENDAR

GE
a Day... ( ) E 3
Cartoons ap- Ч z =8

peared in the ge

very first issue US

of PLAYBOY, in 1953, < fy resa Se
and have been a

staple of the magazine ever since—with
Hef personally involved in the selection of
each and every one. The new Playboy
Cartoons 2011 box calendar features 365
of the best, most outrageous PLAYBOY саг-
toons from over the years. These naughty
and irreverent funnies will keep you laugh-
ing throughout 2011. Available online and
at Barnes and Noble bookstores.

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LIVE THE LIFE

WELL-CRAFTED

= MANTRACK

DRIVE :: SHAVE ::

FIRE

Silver Bullet

How to buy—and drive—the most powerful 911 ever

The first Porsche 911 rolled off an assembly line 47 years ago. Ever
since, the German manufacturer has been refining this one automo-
bile, year after year. More speed. Less weight. Better handling and
smarter tech. What you see is the crown jewel—the most powerful
and technologically advanced 911 ever, sexier even than the magazine
you hold in your hands. (Okay, we've gone too far.) The new 911 GT2
RS, just now reaching our shores, is truly a racing car for the street (or
a street car for the track). Sit in the cockpit and you feel as if you’ve
got superhero tights beneath your Armani. The stats: 3.6-liter V6 twin
turbo, 620 hp (nearly the equivalent of two base 9115), zero to 60 in
3.4 seconds and atop speed of 205 mph. Only 500 will be offered
worldwide, at $245,000. If you have that kind of scratch (or for a great

Head Trip

How does bald become beauti-
ful? Try the new S4 Shadow from
% HeadBlade (599, headblade
.com). The razor’s earlier
incarnation proved as
complicit as Michael
Jordan in the shaved-
dome trend. The
latest straps to your
hand via a rubber
finger rest, allowing
for smooth passage
over the contours of your scalp.

Porsche expe-
rience for a bit
less), you owe
it to yourself to
train at the Porsche Sport Driving School, the best driving class
we've ever taken. Based at the gorgeously landscaped 2.4-mile Bar-
ber Motorsports Park in Birmingham, Alabama, the school pairs you
with instructors like Hurley Haywood, a three-time Le Mans cham-
pion. After a one- or two-day course (from $1,795, porschedriving
.com), you'll graduate to the masters ($3,495) and finally the three-
day competition-level course ($5,295). Perhaps then you can peel
off that Armani and reveal your superpowers to the world.

Eternal Flame

Wind and rain have met their
match. Almost no amount
of torrential downpour or
forceful blast of air can
extinguish the flame gen-
erated by Garrett Wade’s
Survival Matches ($10

for 50, garrettwade.com).
Built to NATO specifications
for the British military, they can
burn even after being submerged

in water and withstand gusts of up to í
40 miles per hour. » 45

=: MANTRACK

FOOD :: DRINK :: TRAVEL

Stand and Deliver

Uncork your favorite vintages in vintage
style. The Founders Standing Wine Opener
(5199, potterybarn.com) functions like the
cork pulls long used by professionals:
Place the wine bottle on the mango-
wood base, rotate the handle downward
and then move it backward to extricate the
cork with ease. You will find it dangerously
simple to open bottle
after bottle.

Put down the phone immediately. Kalamazoo Outdoor Gourmet’s fire pizza oven
($6,495, kalamazoogourmet.com) will forever banish cloying delivery drivers from
your doorstep and frostbitten pies from your freezer. Designed for the backyard
grill master, it features dual gas burners that operate separately—allowing differ-
ing amounts of heat for the toppings and crust. The normal cooking time? Five
minutes—or about the time it takes to place an order with the local pizza joint.

erie

How to Buy L

Here’s what most men know about linge-
rie: They enjoy seeing it on women. Besides
that, manly expertise in matters of satin and
lace remains elusive. Here's how to shop for
panties she'll want to drop: (1) Look in her
drawer to find out her size. (2) Think about
what she likes, not just what you like. For

instance, if she's self-conscious about her
stomach, opt for a negligee or corset over
a thong and bra set. (3) Decide how much
you want to spend. Nothing but the best?
Shop at agentprovocateur.com or kikidm
.com. Want the good stuff for less? Go with
ellemacphersonintimates.com.

It's steep, it's deep, ahd—if you have the skill and th e

4 stones—there’s nothing, else like it. Silverton Моцарт“

* tain (silvertonmountain.com)is the highest ski area
in America (at'13,487 feet) and бив of the most dan-
gerous and exclusive. Situated i in the 548 Juan range,
south of Telluridein Colorado, it’s nothing more than
a chairlift and some snowcats;with no grooming, no
beginner. runs and no trail markerS—just you and the
mountain’s awesome chutes and cliffs. “Our average
snowfall is 400 inches, and our average slope is 40
degrees,” Says'Co- owner Jenny Brill. Since there are”; абу AA

¿Usually fewer than100péople on the hilkat. atime,

“ every.run isa powder run. Unlessiyou have signifi-
cantbackcountry ехрейе , guidesare a Must. The
atmosphere at Silverton is no-frills rustic; “check into ^!
the Teller House hotel (tellerhousehotel.com).so
the rest of x: Stay doesn't have to be. yit de

” 2
y

When Hugh Hefner founded the
first Playboy Club in Chicago, he
wanted a female waitstaff that
would embody the Playboy fan-
tasy. The Playboy Bunny was
born, and 50 years later she lives
on in our imaginations. With
more than 200 amazing pho-
tos of classic Bunnies—along
with many never-before-seen
images—50 Years of the Playboy
Bunny is the definitive work on
a cultural icon. Go to playboy
store.com to order. (176 pages,
$35, Chronicle Books)

ва MANTRACK
Hang "Ет High

Who says staring at the wall must equate with
boredom? If anything, your walls should capti- -—
vate. One surefire motif: vintage iconography, a = 一 一
hip departure from classic artwork. See below
for cool prints from artist Alex Ross and pho-
tographers Baron Wolman, Phil Stern and Мей
Leifer, along with a French twist on filmmaker
Quentin Tarantino’s homage to the 1970s. ==

ШІН GRINDHOUSE

ы
un rum oe QUENTIN TARANTINO

French Grindhouse poster
(17” x 11’, 515, moviepostershop.com)

Keith Richards, Oakland, СА, 1978- - — ==
by Baron Wolman (14" x 11^,.$750,.
— ——morrisonhotelgallery.com)

= = — Ali vs. Liston 11, 1965 by Мей Leifer, signed
James Dean (Pullover Sweater), 1955 by Phil Stern (16"x 20”, $2,300, (14^ x 117, $3,000, neilteifer.com)
faheykleingallery.com) 一 i =

Jean Daun А
СЛН N

Lift here
to experience

Jean
GAU {лїї

тю "ЕМИЕ
|

Available at
SEPHORA and

Which wines go with turkey?—
R.Y., Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Turkey itself is a blank slate, but
the variety of sides served with it,
from savory to sweet, can make the
meal a challenge. Avoid big reds and
heavily oaked wines, neither of which
complement sweets. Some people insist
on drinking only American wines,
but we prefer to celebrate the melting
pot. If you like reds, drier is better. Try
pinot noir, merlot or shiraz, slightly
chilled, and for whites, sauvignon
blanc, pinot gris or riesling. Add
a few bottles of Native American—
produced wine such as those from
Elk Prairie Vineyard in California
(elkprairievineyard.com) or Native
Vines Winery in North Carolina
(nativevineswinery.com). Because
it always takes much of the day to
consider all we’re thankful for, have
on hand at least one bottle per guest.
And don’t forget the champagne.

The man I have been dating
for four months is kinky, which
I love. He says I’m sweet and
doesn’t want to corrupt me, but
I want to be his dirty little slut.
I know that sounds bad, but it’s
only for him. Give me a game
plan and ГІ run with it—H.P,
Lake Balboa, California

A dirty little slut never apologizes
for being a dirty little slut. It sounds as
though you've already been corrupted,
but you should give your boyfriend
regular signs that he has seriously mis-
judged your innocence. For instance,
the next time you're together in pub-
lic, slide your panties into his jacket
pocket. Tell him, “Гт hot. Could you
hold on to these until we get home?”
Or stick a butt plug under his pil-
low. Or tie him to the bed and have
your way with him. (See sportsheets
.com for a variety of restraints held in
place by Velcro. Не won't escape.) Or
use a well-lubed finger to massage his
anus while you blow him. Or take a
hint from Lou Paget, author of How
to Be a Great Lover, and surprise him
with a pearl necklace. Specifically, use
а 30-to-36-inch strand of eight-to-10-
millimeter pearls—ideally the pearls
you wore that evening. Lightly lube his
erection, then adorn it by wrapping the
strand around the shaft. “When his
penis looks like it is wearing a Princess
Diana choker, start slowly stroking him
with a basket-weaving stroke—up and
down with a twist,” she explains. “Then unwrap
his penis and, as if you are flossing under his
testicles, slowly pull the pearls from one side to
the other, slightly lifting his testicles. When you're
done, ‘coil the poiles’ at the base of his shaft and
settle yourself on top of him.” If your boyfriend
asks where you came up with any of these slutty
surprises, Paget suggests you tell him, “I dreamt
it.” Who can argue with that?

PLAYBOY
ADVISOR

I have a healthy, satisfying sex life with my fiancé
and don’t want to date anyone else, but when I see an
attractive guy, I fantasize about having sex with him.
I have playfully mentioned this to my fiancé, but he
says he can’t understand why I would want to sleep
with other men. I don’t want to cheat or hurt him
in any way, but it’s getting harder to suppress these
urges.—K.B., Fort Lauderdale, Florida

Most if not all men and women fantasize about people other
than their partners, but there is a chasm between that and taking
someone to bed. How close are you to the edge? We’re certain your
fiancé has similar daydreams about other women, so it’s odd and
a bit discomforting that he doesn’t recognize you do as well. If
these fantasies have recently become more intense, they may reflect
anxiety about your commitment to your boyfriend, especially if you
don't have a lot of experience with other men. You can’t suppress
them, because the more you try, the more they will appear. You can
decide if you are ready to commit to one lover, even if his only
competition at the moment is guys you haven't met.

| am a black woman who would prefer to
lose my virginity to a white man. Do white
men interested in black women get more
aroused if the woman lacks experience with
black men?—L.S., Jacksonville, Florida
Depends on the guy, we suppose. But since 75
percent of women first have intercourse with a boy-
friend, husband, fiancé or live-in partner, you’re
more likely to hook up with а man you like, regard-

less of his skin color. А 2007 study backs
up the old saying “Once you go white,
there’s no flight,” noting a black woman
whose initial partner is not black is 8.5
times more likely to marry a man of a
different race. (A white woman 15 only
3.4 times more likely.) The disadvan-
tage of being penetrated for the first
time by a white man, of course, is that
they all have enormous penises.

Over the past several years I’ve
taken to wearing hats. I’m a
conservative dresser (e.g., three-
piece suits) and prefer quality.
Depending on the season, I favor
panama or felt hats, but I haven’t
been able to find a proper hat et-
iquette book published since the
1950s. The advice is all set in the
context of civility and politeness,
which sadly seem to have largely
vanished, at least in America.
Has the etiquette changed? As
an aside, the best place to buy
hats is London, where hat cul-
ture seems to be making a last
stand, or а comeback.—].F.,
Ojai, California

Hat etiquette hasn't changed; it’s just
that far fewer men have any idea what
it is. That's because these days wearing
a hat requires “a certain élan,” explains
custom clothier Alan Flusser. “The big-
gest problem is that most men wear their
hair longer now, so it feels strange to
have on a hat. There’s also the risk for
many men of looking ridiculous, as if
they're trying too hard. But you still
see stylish men in hats, such as those
who wear Paul Stuart.” If you'd like
to see how a hat can be worn, Flusser
suggests digging up prewar copies of
Apparel Arts or Esquire magazine. He
also offers a few guidelines in his book
Clothes and the Man: (1) As with eye-
glasses, a hat should be geometrically
and proportionally relative to your head
and face. To that end, the distance from
the middle of your forehead to the top
of the hat’s crown should be the same
as the distance from your chin to the
middle of your forehead. (2) A hat
should always be worn slightly atilt. (3)
Its color should reflect your topcoat or
suit and shoes. (4) If fit properly, a hat's
edges should barely touch the tops of
your ears, and (5) a hat should always
be removed inside and tipped for any
female acquaintance. If that sounds
affected, well, Flusser says, “those not
interested in ceremony need not apply.”

TINA BERNING

M, husband has collected porn for years—
I have no problem with that. However, I
discovered a photo of a woman's genitalia
on his phone. He lied to my face as to who
the woman is and where he got the image.
He also sent her a photo of his erection.
He claims it means nothing and he just
enjoys seeing women naked. Am I over-
reacting, as he claims? I don't know how

49

PLAYBOY

50

ГІ ever be able to trust him when he has
to visit her town on overnight business.—
ТІР, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Porn is porn until it’s personal. You aren't
overreacting, and your husband is delusional if
he believes he can talk his way out of this. Even
if he’s being truthful and exchanging explicit
photos is as far as it went, it’s creepy and weird
for a married guy to be doing that. He has some
hard work ahead to regain your trust.

The discussion in the August issue of
whether semen glows under black light
brings to mind a passage from The Quest
for C, a biography of Sir Mansfield Cum-
ming, who founded the British Secret
Service and had a fondness for invis-
ible inks. The book quotes one of Cum-
ming’s former associates: “I shall never
forget C.’s delight when the chief censor,
Worthington, came one day [about 1915]
with the announcement that one of his
staff had found out that semen would
not respond to iodine vapor [so mes-
sages could pass through enemy hands
undetected].... The slogan went round
‘Every man his own stylo’ [pen]. We
thought we had solved a great problem.
Then our man in Copenhagen evidently
stocked it in a bottle, for his letters stank
to high heaven, and we had to tell him
a fresh operation was necessary for each
letter.”—P.L., Cambridge, Massachusetts

If the Germans had figured this out, they might
have won the war.

Im dating an attractive woman who has
several dark hairs around her nipples
that I find to be a complete turnoff. How
do I handle this?—].H., Wilmington,
North Carolina

There would not seem to be amy graceful way
to approach this. "You're perfect except for...
those" isn't going to work, and we're also skep-
tical about "I love to suck your nipples, but the
hairs tickle my nose." During our weekly meet-
ing of the minds on the Playboy Morning Show
(Sirius/XM 99), someone offered this clever or
crazy suggestion: While booking your girl-
friend a spa appointment, express your concern
to the aesthetician. She can point out the hairs
and offer to remove them. If it works, credit the
Advisor with another save. If it screws up the
relationship because the aesthetician blabs to
your girlfriend, blame the Morning Show.

Ive heard men should check their tes-
ticles for cancer the way women check
their breasts. What should we look for?—
B.K., Minersville, Pennsylvania

You're looking for an abnormal lump attached
to the testicle, which is the ball you can feel inside
each sac. The best time to do this is after a warm
bath or shower, which relaxes the scrotum. Use
both hands to examine each testicle by placing
the index and middle fingers underneath and
the thumbs on top. Roll the testicle gently, feeling
for lumps on the side or front. Before you do this
and freak out, the soft tube behind the testicle 15
not a tumor but the epididymis, which carries
sperm into the body. Further, a lump attached to
the epididymis is not cancer, nor is one that floats

around and isn’t attached to anything. And a
lump, swelling or pain in the testicles or scrotum
could be caused by infection or injury. If you
have any doubts, get it checked out.

In September a reader asked about
secluded waterfalls under which to make
love. My boyfriend and I discovered a
great one a few miles outside Santiago,
Mexico at a place called Sol de Mayo,
though it has its challenges. In December
the water is cold and the fall flows fast. In
August the water is warm but flows at a
trickle. The pool is deep under the falls,
and there’s no place to stand behind or
beside it. However, if you’re happy mak-
ing love in the proximity of a secluded
waterfall, this is the place, at least until
the developers finish the vacation cabins
nearby.—D.P, Lawrence, Kansas

Thanks for the tip, though we'd be content
making love next to a dripping faucet.

M, wife and I are considering divorce.
We've been leading nearly separate lives
for the past year but have a seven-year-old
son neither of us wants to be apart from.
My wife suggested we divorce but live
together in our home. I'm considering it
because of our son and because neither
of us can afford an apartment. Have you
heard of this?—D.B., Chicago, Illinois

Yes, and even more so since the economy
tanked. As in your case, many couples stay
together because they can't afford to live apart;
counselors say this is far more often the moti-
vation than concern for the kids. But living
with an ex is a challenge, to say the least, espe-
cially if one partner sees it as a way to save the
relationship. Some couples separate or divorce
but stay together, sometimes for decades, by
retreating to separate bedrooms. Typically this
works until one partner starts dating. Would
that be allowed? Other important questions to
ask include whether you'll continue to have
sex, what you'll tell your son and how you'll
share money and expenses—the same decisions
married. people make. If you get along well
enough to be roommates, perhaps the relation-
ship isn't as hopeless as you believe.

What's the best way to take care of a
new tattoo? Some people have told me to
apply ointment, while others say it's better
to use nothing.—J.P., Vallejo, California

There's a simple reason you hear conflicting
advice—if you have an allergic reaction to an
ointment or lotion, it could damage the tattoo.
While antibacterial ointment prevents infection,
it is less important if you keep the area clean and
protected. Some artists recommend ointments with
vitamins A and D, which won! stop bacteria but
can aid healing.

When traveling I like to tip the hotel
maids. During a multinight stay, is it bet-
ter to leave a few dollars each day or wait
until the end of the visit and leave a larger
amount?—D.P., Fairport, New York

If you’re pleased with the service, tip daily,
because you may not have the same maid for the
entire stay. Ideally you should hand it to her or

him. Otherwise, place $2 to $3 a day (or $5 to
$10 at a luxury hotel) inside an envelope and
mark it “For housekeeper—thank you.” Leave it
on the pillow or television. Don’t leave change
or expect the maid to recognize loose bills as a
tip before you've checked out.

А: four and a half inches my penis has
caused me a lifetime of shame. My 10-year-
old son seems to have the same curse,
and І fear he may think he's alone, as І
did. I’m wondering if a straightforward
talk is the best approach. It bothers me
to consider he may go through what I
did.—S.B., Los Angeles, California

He will if you tell him his penis is small,
especially since yours isn’t. Studies have found
the average erection to be five to six inches,
and you’re not far enough below that range
to be considered abnormal. Your son is evi-
dence of that, since nature smiles on any man
whose erection is sufficiently large to repro-
duce. Given the fact most women can’t climax
without direct clitoral stimulation, which a
thrusting penis doesn’t provide, size becomes
even more irrelevant. Further, because there
is no single penis-size gene and because your
son’s penis is still growing, it’s hard to pre-
dict where he will fall along the scale when
he reaches adulthood. Finally, though some
women are size queens, the vast majority won't
care about your son’s size if he’s a nice guy
and a skilled lover. But that’s a discussion you
can have with him in a few years when he
reaches puberty. In the meantime, talk to him
about your expectations and the mechanics of
intercourse and how he came to be. Whatever
insecurities you have about your size, whether
from lack of a good teacher or the stupid com-
ments of others, can die with you.

ls there any significance to a woman giving
a man cigars as a gift? Over the past few
months a female friend and І have been
going to dinner, taking dance classes and
hanging out at our homes. After the last
few dinners we sat outside smoking cigars.
It was her idea. І have feelings for her
but have never expressed them, though І
believe she knows how I feel. —T.L., San
Francisco, California

There is significance to the gift but not to
the fact they are cigars, unless the giver hap-
pens to say, “I wish this was your cock.” But
what do you need, man—a thunderbolt?

All reasonable questions—from fashion, food
and drink, stereos 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 in these pages. Write the Playboy Advi-
50% 680 North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago,
Illinois 60611, or send e-mail by visiting
playboyadvisor.com. Our greatest-hits collec-
tion, Dear Playboy Advisor, is available in
bookstores and online; listen to the Advisor
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ни CONAN O'BRIEN

A candid conversation with the once and future king of late night about
his new show, his Irish dark side and aie pesky troubles with NBC

People of Earth: Conan O’Brien is back on TV.

In a divorce that was bizarre even by
Hollywood standards, O’Brien spent 17
years working for NBC, then left his job in
January—less than seven months after tak-
ing over as host of The Tonight Show—when
network executives announced a plan to move
him back half an hour and insert Jay Leno at
the 11:35 p.m. spot. In reply to NBC, O’Brien
issued a tart, defiant press release addressed
to “People of Earth” in which he said the net-
work’s plan would “seriously damage what
I consider to be the greatest franchise in the
history of broadcasting.” Lawyers and man-
agers negotiated a severance deal in excess of
$30 million, and O’Brien left. NBC petulantly
removed his name and image from its website
and returned The Tonight Show to Jay Leno,
whose poorly rated 10 p.m. variety show had
contributed to the lower ratings that caused the
network to grow dissatisfied with O’Brien.

Got that?

Although O’Brien lost the most coveted job
in comedy, one that usually brings longevity,
he won respect for standing up to NBC, shar-
ing his severance riches with his staff and
bringing a fiery quality to his final shows.
“I just want to say to the kids out there,
you can do anything you want in life,” he
told viewers. “Unless Jay Leno wants to do

‘At the end of the day, it’s going to be me doing
whatever is in my power to entertain people for
an hour. ГИ break any rule. ГИ use dangerous
chemicals if I have to. I will meddle with the
laws of God.”

it too.” NBC honcho Jeff Zucker—who in
September was relieved of his job—swiftly
denounced O’Brien’s remarks as “nasty,”
which mostly showed how unaccustomed TV
honchos are to hearing the truth.

If this was the first time anyone had called
the amiable O’Brien “nasty,” it wasn’t the
first time NBC had expressed doubt in him.
The son of accomplished professionals—his
dad is a doctor and his mom a lawyer—
he was raised in Brookline, Massachusetts,
a large boy in a large Irish Catholic fam-
ily, and went to Harvard, where he rose to
become president of the Lampoon, an august
humor magazine that had been spawning
successful comedy writers for more than 70
years. After graduating in 1985, he began
his comedy career writing for an HBO shou,
Not Necessarily the News, then proceeded to
Saturday Night Live and The Simpsons.

In 1993 David Letterman vacated Late
Night on NBC after the network chose Leno
instead of him to host The Tonight Show, and
Saturday Night Live creator Lorne Michaels
picked O’Brien to replace Letterman. It was
a risk and quickly seemed like a failure—
ratings were low, and a prominent TV critic,
who described O’Brien as “a living collage
of annoying nervous habits,” called on NBC
to cancel him. Which, O’Brien revealed in

“Nobody cares if you make a disparaging com-
ment about the Irish. It is the one ethnic group
no one gives a shit about. ‘Oh, those wife-
beating drunks.’ Irish people go, ‘Yes! Ha-ha!
We got mentioned.’ They don’t care.”

a 1998 Playboy Interview, NBC did, before
it realized it had no replacement and gave
him a reprieve. Within a few years his audi-
ence was large and loyal enough that NBC
promised him the network’s prize job, host-
ing The Tonight Show.

This summer, while O’Brien was plotting
his new 11 р.м. show on TBS, PLAYBOY con-
tributing editor Rob Tannenbaum interviewed
him in a Burbank office so new it was fur-
nished with little more than a desk, a few
chairs and a giant poster of O’Brien sidekick
Andy Richter, put up by Richter himself as
a prank. “When I commented on the lack of
decor,” Tannenbaum says, “Conan’s answer
was, ‘Everything in this office is designed to
come down quickly, in case there’s trouble and
we need to get out of here.’ A few times he
said he was tired of being asked about what
happened at NBC, but then a few minutes
later he'd make a joke about it. Emotionally
it’s difficult for him, but comedically it’s an
endless source of punch lines.”

PLAYBOY: So a funny thing happened on
the way over here. Jay Leno called and
said, “You doing anything today? Want
to come over and interview me?”

O'BRIEN: [Does Leno impression] “Do me
instead!” Well, you’d better get over there.

PHOTOGRAPHY BY MIZUNO

“Гт going for eight months on the air. All I
want to do is break my Tonight Show record.
Tm a guy who wants to say I did more push-ups
today than I did the day before, and the good
news is, I did only one push-up yesterday.”

53

PLAYBOY

54

It’s close by. We’re іп Burbank, and NBC
is not far away.

PLAYBOY: How far are we from his office?
O'BRIEN: I think if I worked out and had
help with hydraulics we could hit it with
a tennis ball.

PLAYBOY: Are you in any danger of bump-
ing into him?

O'BRIEN: No. He's a guy you hear coming
a long way off. There aren’t many three-
cylinder engines in California that run on
peat moss. And we hang out in different
circles, so I don't think we'll be bumping
into each other.

PLAYBOY: Have you been experiencing
déja vu as you prepare the new show?
O’BRIEN: Yes, strong déja vu. We had a
meeting with the same two set design-
ers who had done The Tonight Show, and
when they started to show me models
of a talk show set, I thought, I was look-
ing at a model with you guys 15 months
ago. That last project had such a long
buildup, and so much thought and work
went into putting it together, that imme-
diately starting to set up another one is
a strange experience. This is our pirate
ship—that’s how I think of this show: I
was on a big cruise liner, a fight erupted,
and I jumped off. And now I’ve created
a pirate ship with antique cannons on it,
and I’m looking for trouble.

PLAYBOY: This is the third time you’ve сге-
ated a show.

O'BRIEN: I’m going for the record of seven
in a four-year span, held by Charles
Nelson Reilly. I’m going to become a
mercenary: Drop me into any hot spot
in the world with a desk, a microphone
and a chair and I will put together a talk
show, get it pretty well lit, get an audi-
ence in there—and evacuate. Then it’s
up to the local government to keep the
show running.

PLAYBOY: Is Andy Richter part of this team
of guerrilla talk show experts?

O’BRIEN: Andy will be part of it, for
brute strength alone. Andy is the stron-
gest guy on television. He’s a man-child,
an incredibly powerful human being.
He could take Charlie Sheen in hand-
to-hand combat. It wouldn’t even be
close. If Charlie Sheen were sleeping
and unwarned, Andy would win. And
sedated. Those are the rules. Andy does
very well against an opponent who’s
sleeping, heavily sedated and doesn’t
know he’s being attacked.

PLAYBOY: Is 11 PM. on TBS a better slot for
you? The Tonight Show invented the late-
night talk show. You can’t screw around
too much with that.

O’BRIEN: I feel I did it my way. I fired
Henry Winkler and Tom Cruise wax fig-
ures out of giant cannons, and I would
have continued to do those things. I
like to call this new show Plan B With
Conan O’Brien. That's the title I'm going
with— “Welcome to Рап В With Conan
O’Brien.” But I do not like to overthink
these things too much, because at the
end of the day

PLAYBOY: Bullshit, Conan. People close to
you say you overthink everything.
O'BRIEN: But І don’t want to get lost
thinking how this show will be different
from any other show I’ve done. Will I
overthink it? Yes. Do I think I should?
No. How’s that? At the end of the day, it’s
going to be me doing whatever is in my
power to entertain people for an hour.
I'll break any rule. ГП use dangerous
chemicals if I have to. I will meddle with
the laws of God.

PLAYBOY: You'll also be talking to actors
who have new films to promote.
O’BRIEN: No! No actors, no actresses.
That’s all going. I want to talk to people
who are good at a craft, people who work
with their hands, someone who’s really
good at putting up drywall. Or uphol-
sterers. We’re going to talk to a lot of
upholsterers. Will I bar Tom Hanks from
the set? No, I will not. He can come, but
he’s not allowed to talk about his proj-
ect. He’s gonna keep his fuckin’ mouth
shut about his project. And we may have
financial penalties for guests who men-
tion their projects. If Jim Carrey or Tom
Hanks accidentally mentions his project,

I don’t want anyone to
say, “Watch Conan. He’s
going to blow your mind.”
I'm going for the jugular:

"Watch Conan. You will
make money, guaranteed."

I think the viewer should be compen-
sated in some way. That would be a way
to turn this economy around. Anytime
someone starts to drift into ^Well, the
great thing about this movie is that I was
reunited with my favorite director” 一
bzzzzt —everyone watching gets $2,500.
I'm pretty much going to pay people to
watch the show.

PLAYBOY: Even on cable that could get
expensive.

O'BRIEN: If you could actually make money
by watching Conan O'Brien, help put
your kids through college by watching
Conan O'Brien or help get out of credit
card debt by watching Conan O’Brien,
you'd watch Conan O'Brien. You say you
don't want any bullshit; I don't want to
bullshit you. I do not want anyone to say,
“Watch Conan O'Brien. He's going to try
some new comedic ideas. He's going to
blow your mind." I'm going for the jugu-
lar: “Watch Conan O'Brien. You will make
money, guaranteed."

PLAYBOY: You're not ashamed to buy peo-
ple's affection?

O'BRIEN: No. I've done it before. You think
Andy Richter is really my friend? Andy is

paid to go to dinner with me. Everybody
I work with is paid to go to dinner with
me—and occasionally paid to call me and
ask how I am.

PLAYBOY: We're being paid to interview you.
O'BRIEN: Exactly. Your talking to me is
the warmest human exchange I've had
in about eight years. My wife doesn't even
exist. She's a Lands' End catalog model
who shows up for red-carpet affairs. I
don't know that woman.

PLAYBOY: Is she obliged to have sex with
you?

O'BRIEN: No. She said there's no amount
of money in the world. That's still a
problem. It's been a problem since
high school. Prostitutes have told me,
“No deal." And I’ve said, “ГІ give you
$100,000 in gold Krugerrands." I don't
know what the problem is. I think I have
an odor, which is why I'm most palatable
on television. As soon as smell-o-vision
comes out, I'm through.

PLAYBOY: The last time you did the Playboy
Interview was 1998.

O'BRIEN: Who was on the cover of PLAYBOY
then? Was it Aaron Burr's mistress? What
was happening in the country? The bub-
ble hadn't burst yet on the Internet. Back
then everyone was worth $4 million on
paper. Our musical guest every night was
Pat Benatar, wearing leggings. She was
good, though.

PLAYBOY: Well, here's something you said
in 1998——

O'BRIEN: “I will never die”?

PLAYBOY: You said about doing a late-night
show, "The pace will kill you." You have
enough money to last the rest of your life.
Why do another show?

O'BRIEN: I've invested really badly. The
pace does kill you. You keep going back
for that; there's no other explanation.
Тһеге are probably 35 variables that make
up a show, if you think about it. Imag-
ine a combination lock with 35 tumblers.
How's the audience, who are the guests,
what mood am I in? Add all those things
up, and you can never have back-to-back-
to-back great shows. If you have a show
that's less than great, you're desperate
to have a great one. But when you have
one you feel is great, you want that high
again. And it's too late for me to become
a neurosurgeon or a cobbler.

PLAYBOY: Was there a point when you
thought, I've had enough of TV—I don't
need to be on the air; I can go write?
O'BRIEN: When I parted company with
NBC, I honestly didn't know if I would
end up with another job. I didn't know
if there would be a place for me in tele-
vision. But I like performing. I like
making people laugh. I really like audi-
ences, and it would be hard for me to
retire to the Connecticut countryside
and smoke a pipe. When it's really funny
and surprises me and the audience can
tell I'm enjoying myself, that may be
one of the happiest experiences I can
have. Once you're a father you have to
say “опе of them."

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PLAYBOY

56

So why keep doing it? I think there’s
this compulsion, the way a serial killer has
to kill and kill again. Are these analogies
helping me or hurting me? I’m just com-
pelled to make people laugh—and then
quickly move to another state where my
DNA can’t be traced.

PLAYBOY: Here’s how it sounds: Your need
to perform in front of people is greater
than the disgust you feel for the world
of television.

O'BRIEN: То be honest with you, I do not
have disgust for the world of television. As
anyone can imagine, I have moments of
bitterness, but my overwhelming feeling
is that you have to be an adult about this.
When art and commerce get together, it
can get bumpy. I’ve heard writers over the
years bitch to me, “Oh, they changed my
script for that show I was working on,”
and I would say, “You know who never
had any trouble with that? Emily Dick-
inson. No one bothered her. Go in your
attic, write what you’re going to write and
then die of consumption.”

Do I agree with a bunch of things that
happened? No. But I don’t want what
happened in January to define me or
ruin my optimism about what I could do
in television.

PLAYBOY: You have never been funnier
than you were in 2010. The anger was
good for your comedy.

O’BRIEN: If I were being honest, I would
say yes, I think my Achilles’ heel over the
years has been my need to please. I try
really hard to make people happy. What
I went through in January was clearly a
situation where I had to make a choice
between what I thought was the right
thing to do and making people happy.
And when I say people, I mean the suits,
the bosses.

PLAYBOY: The NBC suits.

O’BRIEN: Yeah, and it got contentious.
And you’re right, that was a new space
for me to be in. When I did the 60 Min-
utes interview, Steve Kroft asked, “Well,
couldn’t you have just sucked it up and
been a good company boy?” And I said,
“That’s who I’ve been. This was the
exception to the rule.” The year 2010
is a seismic change. It’s me saying, “I’m
going to piss some people off.” And
that can be liberating. I have a slightly
different perspective now, so it'll be
interesting. I think this will be a differ-
ent Conan. It’s the same guy but with a
higher testosterone level. It’s a pill that
I’m on. Actually I took the wrong pill
for a while—it was estrogen, and I had
C-cup breasts—but now I’m back on the
other pill.

PLAYBOY: Andy must have been jealous.
O’BRIEN: Andy nursed for a while. I fed
him the rich milk of Conan O’Brien for
three weeks. [laughs] This will never be
printed. How does it feel doing the very
last Playboy Interview?

PLAYBOY: How do you think you did as the
host of The Tonight Show?

O’BRIEN: I’ve thought about it a lot, as

you know. In the short time I had it, I
thought I did a good job of starting to
make it mine and putting my stamp on
it. It didn't seem like it lasted that long.
[laughs] And then I looked at the calen-
dar, and it hadn't. The hardest thing I
can do is give myself a grade.

PLAYBOY: Good, so give yourself a grade.
O'BRIEN: I can't, because it will be taken
out of context. But if we say pass-fail, I
think I passed. [laughs] It was a pass-fail
course. Let other people judge me or say
what they want about how I did.
PLAYBOY: On 60 Minutes you said, "I hope
people still find me comedically absurd
and ridiculous." Is it possible that come-
dically absurd and ridiculous just doesn't
fit on The Tonight Show at 11:30?
O'BRIEN: I’m not sure I agree with that.
I'm not sure what The Tonight Show will
be 20 years from now. Do you know what
I mean? It might be a liquid gas that is
distributed through tubes. Again, you're
going to say "bullshit," but The Tonight
Show is supposed to be just a person
coming out and being funny, in what-
ever way feels relevant to that period. It
has already changed a number of times;

If I were being honest, I
would say yes, I think my
Achilles’ heel over the years
has been my need to please.
I try really hard to make

people happy.

every host has done it a completely differ-
ent way. But I don’t want this interview
to be me sounding off on what happened
almost a year ago. [excuses himself to go to
the bathroom]

What were we talking about?
PLAYBOY: You had just indicated you were
tired of being asked about NBC.
O’BRIEN: [Laughs] You understand, I’m
trying to take the high road, and any-
thing I say can be extracted. Then it
will look like I’m sitting around bitch-
ing and moaning. I think in a nutshell
I was given way too much time on The
Tonight Show. I think a two-month try-
out would have been adequate, and
they were very generous to give me six
months. [laughs] It's really more than I
could have asked for.
PLAYBOY: What are your goals for the
new show?
O'BRIEN: I'm going for eight months on
the air. All I want to do is break my Tonight
Show record. I'm a guy who wants to say
I did more push-ups today than I did the
day before, and the good news is, I did
only one push-up yesterday.
PLAYBOY: Knowing it would get great

ratings and be good for your new show,
would you invite Jay Leno on as a guest?
O'BRIEN: He can come on as the musical
guest, because that I want to see. No one
knows he has an operatic range [sings as
Jay Leno]. No, there are certain things I
will not do, regardless of the price.
PLAYBOY: For people who don't know
Brookline, describe the town you grew
up in.

O'BRIEN: Everyone rode those bicycles
with the giant front wheel. The men all
had handlebar mustaches and wore arm
garters. Children played with a stick and
a hoop, and everyone was very excited
because they'd built the Titanic in the ship-
yards nearby. Then the crick rose and we
all had to move to higher ground.

I grew up in a tough area. It was kill
or be killed. There were gangs of guys
in Izod shirts. Actually, it was a funny
mix. I was supposed to go to the Irish
Catholic elementary school but instead
was sent to the Driscoll School, which
was surrounded by four temples. All my
friends growing up were Jewish, which
influenced my comedy. I think I went
to 35 bar mitzvahs. Several times I was
given gifts. That's a true story—I was an
exotic attraction at bar mitzvahs. It was
yet another situation in which I stood out
as a child. And so I became very comfort-
able with the Jewish faith.

PLAYBOY: Which serves you well in televi-
sion and comedy circles.

O'BRIEN: Here at the show we have a blend
of repressed Irish Catholics and people
from the Jewish community whom I
greatly admire.

PLAYBOY: You can say "Jews"; it's okay.
O'BRIEN: I can't say “Jews.” I can't say “Yes,
we have several Jews working here." Are
you kidding? You could always insert just
beforehand, in parentheses, "German
accent." [laughs]

PLAYBOY: Are the Irish ever offended by
your Irish jokes?

O'BRIEN: Actually I've noticed nobody
cares if you make a disparaging com-
ment about the Irish. It is the one ethnic
group no one gives a shit about. The Irish
think it's funny. “Oh, those wife-beating
drunks.” Irish people go, “Yes! Ha-ha! We
got mentioned." They don't give a shit;
they don't care.

PLAYBOY: Do you envy the Jews?

O'BRIEN: I really do. I think Jewish males
tend to live to 120. That's my observation.
My producer Jeff Ross's heart beats once
for every 60 beats of my heart. He's just
got a slower temperament. He shuflles in,
he has a little soup, he goes home. He will
be alive 100 years from now. I come from
Irish Catholic stock, and we're junk trees:
We grow quickly, and then in a high wind
we just collapse.

PLAYBOY: Are you glad you went to Cath-
olic school?

O'BRIEN: I hate what was done to me
as a child, being made ashamed of my
body. And it wasn't for any Catholic
thing. My naked body is something

to be ashamed of. That was pointed
out by non-Catholics: “You’ve just got
to cover that up. That’s a bad situa-
tion.” I'm 100 percent Irish, and I wish
I were an exotic blend. I wish I had
some crazy Lutheran in there, maybe a
little Calvinist or Amish. I wish I could
go out in the sun. I wish I had a nor-
mally proportioned body. I’m about 80
percent leg. When I see other people
walk around and their waist is where
it should be, I envy them.

PLAYBOY: There was a quote recently
from one of your Harvard roommates,
Luis Ubinas
O'BRIEN: He runs the Ford Foundation,
one of the largest philanthropic organi-
zations in the country. As you can see, we
took slightly different paths. [laughs]
PLAYBOY: He said, “I don’t think Conan
drank at all in college.”

O'BRIEN: I didn't drink in college. I come
from very high-achieving parents, very
serious, hardworking Irish Catholics, and
you didn’t screw around with alcohol. It
was verboten, to use an Irish word. Even
when I was running The Harvard Lam-
poon, which is basically an organization of
alcoholics, I never drank. People ask me,
“Were you the class clown?” And I say,
“No, the class clown is always killed in a
motel shoot-out. That ends badly.”
PLAYBOY: The class clown is Chris Farley
or John Belushi?

O'BRIEN: I’m thinking Ted Kaczynski or
the Green River Killer. ГП never for-
get the time I met Steve Martin. I was
at Saturday Night Live, and they said, “Go
pitch an idea to Steve Martin.” I was pet-
rified. All I could imagine was the guy
with a fake arrow through his head, this
incredible extrovert. Instead I got this
thoughtful, quiet man sitting there smil-
ing, rarely, when something funny was
pitched. I think that may be a big miscon-
ception about me. My level of intensity
and hard work doesn’t necessarily jibe
with the guy on television.

PLAYBOY: From what you’re describing,
you were a very grown-up adolescent.
O’BRIEN: I stopped going out on Hal-
loween when I was really young. I said,
“Okay, there’s no more time for this.”
When I was 18 the people I looked up
to at the Lampoon were taking comedy
seriously and spending all this time on
it, and then they were going to work for
David Letterman or Saturday Night Live.
So I took this thing I had a natural abil-
ity for and attached it to this hardworking
engine that I had, which previously had
been studying Southern literature and
history. I hooked the two together and
became the ultimate comedy machine, a
cyborg from the future, here to destroy
you all with laughter.

PLAYBOY: What comedy jobs did you
dream about?

O'BRIEN: I remember thinking there were
only two shows I wanted to work for: Late
Night With David Letterman and Saturday
Night Live. | was a comedy snob. I wasn't

going to work on Benson. I didn't want to
work on a conventional sitcom, and there
wasn't a lot else on TV in 1982.

PLAYBOY: What would you consider to be
your greatest comedic accomplishment
at SNL?

O'BRIEN: That's a hard one. I did this
thing once just to make [co-writers] Greg
Daniels, Robert Smigel and Bob Oden-
kirk laugh. I'd stand on the street, and as
girls walked by I would say, "Look at her.
She is way out of my league." I would
talk about all my flaws, but I would say
it in this leering, cocky way. ^Here she
comes. Look at her, not interested in me
at all because my eyes are too small and
my lips are very thin." It was really mak-
ing them laugh, and Robert said, “That
could be a sketch." We ended up going
back and writing it. Tom Hanks was the
host, and he did it with Jon Lovitz. We
called it “The Girl Watchers." Al Fran-
ken, now Senator Franken, said, “How’d
you even think of that?” I tend to like
things that are just silly and cartoony.
I think I wrote some good stuff when I
was there, but I wouldn’t say I changed
the culture, you know?

PLAYBOY: Did you find more of a place for
yourself at The Simpsons than at SNL?
O’BRIEN: The Simpsons was great. It was
this amazing team of writers, and that
show was hitting on all cylinders when
I got there. But I missed the adrena-
line of doing a live television show.
The movie My Favorite Year, that’s what
I miss. My whole career has been an
attempt to get at the core of real show
business, old-time show business. Sat-
urday Night Live was cue cards, running
backstage underneath the bleachers—
all that crazy, exciting, scary stuff. You’d
walk backstage and see people in horse
costumes. With The Simpsons we were
in a room with hilarious people, but I
wanted to be around the makeup and
the horse costumes.

PLAYBOY: Are you saying that as of 1991,
you had not distinguished yourself as a
comedy writer?

O’BRIEN: I think I had distinguished
myself and had made a name for myself,
but I always felt I wasn’t there yet. The
analogy I had was when you’re trying to
get on a highway and find yourself on
a road that runs parallel to it. I always
had that feeling, and 1993, for better or
worse, was the year I jumped onto the
highway. I almost got killed—three semis
came up right behind me. It was gut-
wrenching madness. But when everyone
else thought, Oh, this guy’s going to
get canceled any second, I remember
thinking, I’m on the right road now. I
always had this dim feeling that I needed
to get my own little show somehow. I
used to talk about it in college. Friends
still remind me that I used to tell them,
“Someday I’m going to have a show.”
And they would say, “Yeah, you proba-
bly are.” They kept me talking until the
paramedics arrived.

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PLAYBOY

58

PLAYBOY: So all along were you planning
on how to get your own show?

O'BRIEN: І couldn't have made 1993
happen in a million years if I’d wanted
to. So many things had to go right and
wrong for me to get that opportunity.
Replacing David Letterman from com-
plete obscurity—I’m not smart enough
to figure out how to do that. You’re talk-
ing to someone who got hit by a meteor.
I have to give myself some credit; I think
I had something to offer, but I was more
myself auditioning for that job than I
was for the first year and a half on the
show. At the audition I thought, Come
on, this isn’t going to really happen, so
watch this. And I acted like a complete
ass. Once they handed me the respon-
sibility of doing the show, it felt like,
Oh my God.

PLAYBOY: What were the first words you
said to your wife when you met her while
shooting a segment for Late Night?
O'BRIEN: We went to an advertising agency
and I started acting like an ass. Almost
immediately I asked her, “Do you have a
boyfriend?” And she got really red. Then
I started talking to her exclusively.
PLAYBOY: What was her answer to “Do you
have a boyfriend?”

O’BRIEN: She maced me and we had to
rinse my eyes out. She probably thought
she’d never hear from me again.
PLAYBOY: Were you just pretending to flirt?
O’BRIEN: You could tell I was really hit-
ting on her. My pants were around m
ankles. [laughs] Yeah, she could tell the
difference. Everyone in the room could
tell. It was creepy.

PLAYBOY: You were flirty when you met her.
You’re also flirty with guests, aren’t you?
O’BRIEN: I’m good at flirting. When
you're the host of a show, it’s deceptive:
Actresses come out, they lock eyes with
you, they laugh at everything you say,
they’re dressed great. You’re getting all
the signals that since the dawn of man
have meant “You are in.” The first time
Jennifer Connelly was on Late Night, in
1993, she just broke my brain. All the
blood went to my nether regions, and the
brain died. I remember thinking, I love
Jennifer Connelly.

PLAYBOY: You thought maybe you would
be with Jennifer Connelly?

O'BRIEN: That's what I said in the letters.
Which took a while because I had to
piece them together from cut-out parts
of a magazine, because you don’t want
the handwriting traced. That was later
discouraged by some assholes at the
FBI. No, I didn’t think I would be with
Jennifer Connelly. I never saw myself as
that guy. And neither did Jennifer Con-
nelly. [laughs]

PLAYBOY: Was there ever a guest you think
you could have dated?

O'BRIEN: There was definitely a thing with
Liza Minnelli. If things had gone just a
little differently, I could have been her
closeted gay man with a weird face.
PLAYBOY: Here’s another thing you

said in 1998, in your previous Playboy
Interview
O’BRIEN: “I will host The Tonight Show
forever.”

PLAYBOY: You said, “Marriage is a leap of
faith, a giving up of control. I’m not sure
I can make that leap.” What changed?
O'BRIEN: Nothing. [laughs] Next ques-
tion. It's everything that's scary about
performing—you're giving up control.
It's the yin and yang of “I want con-
trol and I have to give it up." I mean, I
was built to do it with ladies, all kinds of
ladies, and now that's forbidden. Because
of some antiquated system, I cannot
spread my seed. Here it is eight years
later, and I still think it's the smartest
thing I've ever done. But let's see how
she works out in a few more years. I'm
not willing to commit yet. I always tell
her she's an excellent first wife.
PLAYBOY: Why did you name your son
after Samuel Beckett, the most despair-
ing author of the 20th century?

O'BRIEN: It could have been Nietzsche. I
could have named him little Nietzsche
O'Brien. I just liked the name— Beckett
O'Brien sounds like someone to be

I remember thinking there
were only two shows I wanted
to work for: Late Night
With David Letterman and
Saturday Night Live. I was
a comedy snob.

reckoned with. He’s going to be either a
great playwright or a bartender, or both.
Most of the really good Irish names had
been taken by my Jewish friends. I have
Jewish friends with sons named Liam
and Colin.

PLAYBOY: You know a Liam Goldstein?
O'BRIEN: I know an Eamon Bronstein.
They’re stealing our names. This isn’t
some crazy conspiracy theory I have,
like “They started World War I!” I’m like,
“Guys, we don’t have much. We have cool
first names. Leave this alone.”

PLAYBOY: And your daughter obviously
was named after Party of Five actress
O'BRIEN: Neve Campbell, yeah. The true
Irish spelling of Neve is ridiculous. It’s
N-I-M-F-G-H. You can just picture some-
one on their seventh Guinness: “Toss
another consonant in there.”

PLAYBOY: [O’Brien’s cell phone rings] Don’t
you want to answer that?

O'BRIEN: You can ignore that. It's just NBC
asking, “Are you blasting us?”

PLAYBOY: What do your kids think Daddy
does for a living?

O'BRIEN: My daughter figured out pretty
early that I’m famous. She said, “People

come up and want to have a picture with
you, but then they don’t know how to
work their camera and it takes a long time
and you have to help them.”
PLAYBOY: Have you ever done drugs?
O'BRIEN: I've tried pot, but it doesn't do
much for me. And I’m not one of those
people who get high on life; life really
does not get me high. The concept of me
on cocaine is absurd. Here’s a true story:
I went to a doctor for a physical when Га
been on the air a couple of years, and he
asked about drug use. I said, “No.” He
said, “What about cocaine?” I said, “No.”
He said, “You don’t do cocaine?” I said,
“No.” And he said, “I’ve seen your show.”
[laughs] He assumed I was coked up.
PLAYBOY: No alcohol for you and no
drugs, either?
O'BRIEN: You know, I’ve changed. I like
to have a drink now. I like to have two
drinks now. Two and a half to three drinks
now. Five is just the right amount. Eight
is perfect. Nine is too much, but then 10
is better and I become more focused,
which is weird.
PLAYBOY: You’ve been hosting a show
for 17 years. Do you feel like a comedy
veteran?
O'BRIEN: I’ve actually been around long
enough that when I look at a show from
1993 it looks ancient to me. Andy looks
like a 13-year-old boy and I look like a
15-year-old girl. There’s a whole gen-
eration now that has watched primarily
reality television, and more and more
they accept only comedy that looks like
a real occurrence, whether it’s The Office
or Borat. They’re suspicious of tradi-
tional comedy. Everything on YouTube
is real—epic fail, guy falls down, Snooki
gets punched. And so now there’s this
hypersensitivity to anything that’s pro-
cessed or fake.
PLAYBOY: Does that make it harder to
do comedy?
O'BRIEN: I think it’s harder to coast, just
because there’s so much entertainment.
Anybody who has a really funny idea now
can make it happen. That wasn’t conceiv-
able five, six years ago.
PLAYBOY: But also anybody who has a not-
funny idea can make it happen.
O'BRIEN: That's where I come in. [laughs] I
have this theory that talent in the human
population has been a constant for 50,000
years. There’s so much comedy now, but
we're not suddenly a more talented spe-
cies than we were 100 years ago. Now
everyone can express themselves. The
amount of water in the tub didn’t change,
you just made the bathtub 10,000 times
bigger and the water level is low. So you’ve
got to earn it. Why should you have that
TV show? Why shouldn't it be these other
100,000 people who just did something
funny on YouTube?
PLAYBOY: You mentioned David Letter-
man. Did his show have a big impact
on you?
O’BRIEN: He had a big impact on not
(continued on page 164)

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Aram Roston

t is 2002 and the

west African coun-

try of Liberia has

been driven to eco-

nomic ruin. Liberia's

leader, President
Charles Taylor, is an
alleged war criminal who
has bankrupted his coun-
try. The nation drowns
in foreign debt and owes
$3 billion to international
banks and governments.
That’s about 40 times the
size of the government’s
annual budget.

Two thousand miles
to the southeast, in the
Republic of the Congo,
an uneasy peace prevails
after a civil war, though
rebels still terrorize the
countryside. The nation
owes more than $5 billion
in foreign debt. Across the
Atlantic, the middle class
has collapsed in Argentina.
The government defaults
on $81 billion in foreign
debt, the largest sovereign-
debt default in history.

A small group of Amer-
ican investors senses
opportunity. One man
works on the 35th floor
of a skyscraper off Man-
hattan’s Fifth Avenue. He
is a millionaire named
Jay Newman, allied with
a hedge fund firm called
Elliott Management. New-
man is a key figure in this
unique field of finance deal-
ing in obscure foreign debt.
He pressures governments
in crisis to pay him. To him
the Congo and Argentina
represent opportunities.

Another investor, an
eccentric billionaire,
has stationed himself in
the Caribbean, where
he has built a sprawl-
ing trading and analysis
operation. Kenneth Dart,
the reclusive scion of an
American manufactur-
ing family, abandoned his
native land 16 years ago
to shield his wealth from
the government.

These Americans use a
highly specialized invest-
ment scheme developed
over the past 20 years.
They run vulture funds,

ILLUSTRATION BY
ALBERTO SEVESO

The hidden hand of

capital isn’t always benign.

Here’s how some traders
make their fortunes on

the backs of the

weak and poor

~

62

buying abandoned debt іп bedeviled
countries at pennies on the dollar. The
foreign governments owe the funds
just as a man with a mortgage owes his
bank. When the vultures decide to strike,
they want their money immediately and
launch integrated campaigns to get it. It’s
like a credit card company selling a laid-
off factory worker’s old account to a debt
collector, only on a much larger scale.

The most aggressive vulture funds
use every legal tool at their disposal—
the courts, the press and politicians.
When court rulings go against them,
they lobby to change the laws. They hire
investigators to dig up dirt on foreign
leaders. In a way, they run their own
foreign policy operation.

Profits in this unique specialty can
range from 300 percent to 2,000 percent
per deal, according to international insti-
tutions. The cost is borne by the world’s
poorest countries. That may be why the
World Bank says vulture financiers are a
“threat to debt reduction.” The UN calls
them “predatory creditors.”

The vulture investor world is a small
one, made up of smart men who don't
necessarily like or trust one another.
Few vulture fund managers will talk
publicly; some are suspicious of the
press, and most have a lawsuit or two

4 ай

معت سے سو 2- pn C‏

00). 2

boiling away that they don’t want to dis-
rupt. But these vultures have learned to
collect assets from some of the world’s
most desperate nations.

Monrovia, February 15, 2002: The capi-
tal of Liberia hunkered down while the
usual ragtag irregulars headed to bat-
tle in their pickup trucks. That didn’t
matter in a New York City courtroom,
where vultures prepared for their own
battle. Lawyers representing two com-
panies filed for an $18 million judgment
against the Liberian government. One
of those firms was FH International,
run by a man named Eric Hermann,
a vulture capitalist who lives in New
York’s Westchester County. “He was
reputed in the 1990s to be the guy who
really knew Africa,” one friend of Her-
mann's tells me. “He got involved in
everything. He knew a lot of the people
in Africa quite well.” Hermann’s bio says
he once had a Fulbright scholarship to
work in the Ivory Coast.

While Liberia was falling apart, Her-
mann’s company sued in a New York
court, demanding $13 million for a
debt from 1978. It was a piece of a loan
made by Chemical Bank. No lawyer
appeared in court on behalf of Liberia.

“Liberia didn’t have any representative
to show up in New York because they
were in a civil war,” says one vulture
investor. “If you pick on a country like
Liberia, they’re not going to be able to
afford big lawyers.”

If you don’t show up in court when
you are sued, you lose. And so, five
months later, in June 2002—as a new
rebel offensive began against Liberia’s
capital—a federal judge signed a default
judgment in favor of Hermann’s com-
pany. FH International could now use
the courts to collect, anywhere in the
world, any Liberian asset it could find.

Thus does an impoverished nation
become a source of revenue. That judg-
ment wasn’t worth much in 2002. It
sat there, dormant, until it could come
back to life when Liberia tried to get
back on its feet.

Jay Newman, a 58-year-old New York
investor with a law degree, lives in a town-
house in Greenwich Village. Although
he lives well, he is not extravagant, and
one would hardly know that over the
past 20 years the governments of Peru,
Paraguay, Poland, Ecuador, Ivory Coast,
the Congo and Argentina have all been
his victims. (continued on page 175)

63

2

I don't understand your problem. I have lots of job offers after the season ends.

“

Са
IN
ON

CINEMA

AFTER 2009'S SEXUAL RECESSION COMES THE SEXUAL RECOVERY. THIS YEAR’S BEST EROTIC
SCENES FROM THE BIG AND SMALL SCREENS GIVE NEW MEANING TO THE WORD STIMULUS

ІШІ
TE ШІ

hat a difference a year makes. Last year we
posed the question “Whatever happened to sex
in cinema?” Surveying a bleak, parched terrain we
had to conclude that the big screen had become a
child-safe sex-free zone overpopulated by teen- and
tween-targeted high school musicals, Harry Potter and
superhero movies. TV—especially cable—had become

the go-to haven for more-adventurous viewers.

The good news is eroticism is staging a comeback. While the
rapacious sexual appetites on True Blood get more primal than
ever before, moviegoers witness not only a riveting perfor-
mance from Natalie Portman in Black Swan but also her having
sex with herself. Several times. The suburban pot peddlers on
Weeds get themselves into all kinds of sexual mischief, and

nubile Іуу League coeds run rampant at coke-fueled parties
in The Social Network. Mad Men’s steely hero ratchets up his
bed-hopping, and in Stone, long-married parole officer Rob-
ert De Niro gets bedded by temptress Milla Jovovich.

Big-screen sex didn’t just become more visible this past
year, it also became edgier. Amy Smart and Jason Statham
bring risk addiction to a new level when they make love on
a horse-racing track in Crank: High Voltage. Francis Ford
Coppola’s Tetro features the kind of vibrant, anything-goes
sexuality one might expect from a 1960s European import.
James Cameron even managed to introduce interspecies
sex in Avatar. 15 it too early to pop the cork and declare
sex the movies’ comeback kid of the year? This year’s Sex
in Cinema amply illustrates why it might not be.

Christina Aguilera’s
sexy voice should
have saved Bur-
lesque (opposite).
Too bad it seems
stitched together
from Chicago and
Showgirls leftovers.

Mind-blowing 3-D
special effects
plus Zoe Saldana’s
sultry bewitchery
blast away the ick
factor from the
interspecies sex in
Avatar (above).

In The American
(below left), Violante
Placido, playing an
earthy prostitute,
persuades George
Clooney to lower
his guard—and his
trousers.

This bit of gilt-edged
bondage from Sher-
lock Holmes (below
center) gives us
the year’s best line:
“Beneath this pil-
low lies the key to
my release.”

In the provocative
Antichrist (below
right), Charlotte
Gainsbourg suffers
greatly. The good
news is that she
often does so while
undressed.

Swords, Sandals and Schwing A far
cry from Kirk Douglas and Stan-
ley Kubrick’s famed gladiator epic
Spartacus, Starz’s bloodthirsty
Spartacus: Blood and Sand features

Spice Is Nice

Angelina Jolie in Sa/t (above) isn’t
just a gung-ho CIA agent; she’s
also a gung-ho lover to her hus-
band, played by August Diehl.

sexually ravenous lesbian interludes
(above left). Lucy Lawless and her
slave-owner husband, played by
John Hannah, pleasure each other as
their domestic help looks on (above

center). And not to be outdone,
there’s the passionate thrusting of
gladiator Spartacus (Andy Whit-
field) and his beloved wife, played
by Erin Cummings (above right).

Suckers

Margarita Hall and Sianad Greg-
ory snog in the goofy British
comedy Vampire Killers (above),
in which every female in town
morphs into a lesbian vampire.
Sloppy Seconds

Divorced couple Meryl Streep
and Alec Baldwin discover
some new wrinkles when they
rekindle their relationship in /t’s
Complicated (left).

Down for the Count

In Greenberg, Ben Stiller plays a for-
mer mental patient who somehow
attracts Greta Gerwig and subjects her
to a badly timed act of cunnilingus.

Still Looking for Mr. Goodbar
In the Mexican film Leap Year
(above), Monica del Carmen
plays a troubled woman who
picks up strangers, including one
who performs S&M on her.

Sexy Beast

Groupies are just part of the fun
in the French import Gainsbourg
(right), which celebrates iconic
musician Serge Gainsbourg
(played by Eric Elmosnino).

Hemptress

Mary-Louise Parker on Weeds finds а
new best friend in Justin Kirk when he
complies with her request to nurse on
her painfully lactating breasts.

Dance Fever

The erotic attraction between
rival dancers Natalie Portman and
Mila Kunis in Black Swan could
turn anyone into a ballet fan.

Bar Nothing

Pimp (top left), a faux “hidden
camera” documentary that
records an especially nasty
week in the lowlife of a British
hustler in London’s Soho, goes
heavy on grit and sleaze.

Pole Position

In the action thriller Crank:
High Voltage Cleft), Jason
Statham isn’t so keen on
watching Amy Smart work the
pole at a strip club. The rest of
us? We liked it.

Teacher’s Pet

In Argentina’s Don’t Look Down
(below), young sleepwalker
Leandro Stivelman tumbles
down a skylight into the bed-
room of sexually experienced
Antonella Costa, who schools
him in the joys of Tantric sex.

Thank You for Smoking The Royal We Tetrosexual

Vincent Cassel's way with a cigarette Unfazed by those drafty old British Francis Ford Coppola’s beautiful Tetro
lights plenty of sparks in the incendi- castles, Charlotte Salt entices view- bursts at the seams with a European
ary Our Day Will Come (below). ers of The Tudors on Showtime. approach to sensuality and sex.

eq | 3 Е
Danny Trejo takes a nude swim
with Lindsay Lohan (well, her
body double) and Alicia Rachel
Marek in Machete (right).

1ing Beauties
Elena Anaya and Natasha
Yarovenko shack up in a hotel
and strip themselves—and their
emotions—bare in Spain’s Room
in Rome (below).

itten НВО” True Blood has Tiffany Taylor enjoys a sensual а баск-аоог delivery to his barmaid
delivered some of the most pulse- bloodletting from Jessica Tuck lover, Anna Paquin (below center);
pounding erotic moments on TV... (below left); studly-if-ancient South- Paquin lets Moyer hungrily feed
or anywhere. Miss November 1998 ern vampire Stephen Moyer makes while she showers (below right).

Victim of the studio system or collaborator?
Icon or simple working-class girl?
life was driven by contradictions.
For the first time, she confesses to the
collusion and the confusions and reveals
a nuanced and often shocking self-knowledge

BY JOYCE CAROL OATES

o much fantasizing has been spun about Mari-

lyn Monroe since her death, of an overdose, in

August 1962—so much rhapsodizing involving

words like iconic—superstar—goddess—and yet
more vulgarly, sex goddess—that it’s impossible to avoid
noting that “Marilyn Monroe” was a highly calibrated
creation, if not a concoction, of the aggressive Hollywood
studio Twentieth Century Fox, in the 1950s; but in equal
measure “Marilyn Monroe” was a public performance
sustained, not always successfully, by a sometimes desper-
ate but always self-aware young woman who perceived
herself, like her mother, as working class; of that class of
economically disenfranchised Americans who, in the era
of the Great Depression, had no choice but to grow up
quickly and to exploit whatever skills or talent they had.
It isn’t traditional to think of a “goddess” as desperate for

-Marilyn Mowe

employment—in the realm of (mostly male) mythologiz-
ing of the female, very little has been acknowledged of the
woman initially driven by economic necessity who con-
tinues to work, work, work—as a means of self-definition,
self-justification and self-respect.

In Fragments, a miscellany of letters, diary jot-
tings, drafts of poems and random and uncensored
observations—believed to contain “every available text,
excepting her technical notes on acting” written by
Marilyn Monroe—the demystified “Marilyn Monroe” is
revealed. Long after Monroe had become, in the public
eye, the iconic “Marilyn Monroe”— well into her mid-30s,
near the end of her tragically foreshortened life—the
actress was relentlessly self-critical and obsessed with
improving the quality of her work; like any autodidact
she was desperate to educate herself by reading.

MARILYN IN PICTURES

Clockwise from top: Monroe engrossed in То the Actor, March 1955. The cast of The Misfits in Reno,
including screenwriter Arthur Miller, whom Monroe would soon divorce. The pinup, pre-stardom. An
August 13, 1949 Picture Post cover captures the actress in sand and sun. Life magazine pays trib-
ute to Monroe shortly after her death, in August 1962. Monroe and Miller at a 1959 performance of
Macbeth at the Boston Center for the Arts. Monroe and her first husband, Jim Dougherty.

MEMORIES OF
MARILYN

Apart from the months during her
two pregnancies, both of which ended
in miscarriages (in 1957 and 1958,
when she was married to Arthur Miller),
Monroe was working steadily from
1945 (as a model) through the spring
of 1962 (on the banal and ill-fated sex
farce Something’s Got to Give, from which
she was fired). When she divorced her
second husband, Joe DiMaggio, and
fled Hollywood, in 1954, to enroll as
a student in the Actors Studio in New
York City, it was Monroe’s hope to
become a stage actress who might per-
form Chekhov and Shakespeare, and
she was willing to submit to the disci-
pline of acting exercises as if she were
an unknown actress with her profes-
sional life yet before her.

How poignant it seems to us that
Monroe should appeal to Lee Stras-
berg, head of the Actors Studio, as to
a savior:

Dear Lee,

I’m embarrised to start this, but
thank you for understanding and
having changed my life—even
though you changed it I still am
lost—I mean I can’t get myself
together—I think its because
everything is pulling against my
concentration—everything one
does or lives is impossible almost.

You once said, the first time
I heard you talk at the actors
studio that "there is only concen-
tration between the actor and
suiside." As soon as I walk into a
scene I lose my mental relaxation
for some reason,—which is my
concentration....

Its just that I get before camera
and my concentration and every-
thing I’m trying to learn leaves me.
Then I feel like I'm not existing in
the human race at all.

Love,
Marilyn

She was born Norma Jeane Baker on
June 1, 1926 in the charity ward of the
Los Angeles County General Hospital
to an unmarried Hollywood film cutter
named Gladys Pearl Baker (later Mon-
roe); her father was never identified. Like
a child in one of the crueler fairy tales
of Grimm, Norma Jeane Baker/Marilyn
Monroe would seek throughout her life
this elusive father—she would call men
whom she loved “Daddy” in a succes-
sion of always-hopeful and always-flawed
relationships that would culminate with
the most fairy-tale of lovers—the very
president of the United States, in 1961,
less than a year before her death.

Her mother, though intermittently
and teasingly present in her life as a
child, was elusive in another, more insid-
ious way: Gladys seems to have suffered

from the condition now called bipolar
disorder; she was frequently suicidal
and had to be hospitalized; she could
not form any attachment to Norma
Jeane and so placed her daughter in a
succession of foster homes, as well as,
for a while, the Los Angeles County
orphanage, where—ironically—because
little Norma Jeane had a mother, she
couldn’t be considered for adoption like
the other children.

As it was Norma Jeane Baker’s fan-
tasy to live with her mother and to
be one day united with her unknown
father, so it was Marilyn Monroe’s fan-
tasy to suppose that the director of
the Actors Studio might transform
not just the outward circumstances of
her always-turbulent life but its inner
dimensions as well.

In December 1961, in a time of acute
psychological distress in the aftermath
of her third, failed marriage—with
Arthur Miller—Monroe’s plea to Stras-
berg has an air of desperation:

...for years I have been struggling
to find some emotional security with
little success.... Only in the last several
months...do I seem to have made a
modest beginning.... My overall

progress is such that I have hopes of
finally establishing a piece of ground
for myself to stand on, instead of the
quicksand I have always been in. But
Dr. Greenson agrees with you, that
for me to live decently and produc-
tively, I must work! And work means
not merely performing profession-
ally, but to study and truly devote
myself. My work is the only trust-
worthy hope I have....

Fans of Marilyn Monroe would be
astonished to know that, throughout
her Hollywood career, Monroe was
never able to establish herself with
the studios as an “A-level” actress like
her contemporaries Jane Russell, Ava
Gardner, Elizabeth Taylor and Doris
Day; always she was “B-level,” no mat-
ter the excellence and versatility of her
work. At the time of this letter Monroe
was hoping to break free of the studio’s
hold on her and to establish an indepen-
dent production company with the help
of her friend Marlon Brando as well as
Strasberg, but, like a previous attempt
seven years before, this seems to have
come to nothing. (It was Monroe’s bad
luck to have lived in an era when actors,
like musicians and professional athletes,

had not yet acquired the power to nego-
tiate their own contracts; two decades
later, Monroe would have had a career
like Madonna’s.)

Many of the most telling passages of
Fragments have to do with her bid to bet-
ter understand the art of acting and are
seemingly notes taken by Monroe at the
Actors Studio, intercalated with often
chiding asides to herself:

To overcome the difficulties
Remember the fear is always there
and will be in your case. But there
is something you can do about it
technically which by only making the
effort, by carrying out the technical
exercises...

Stassberg said...You must start
to do things out of strength...by
not looking for strength but only
looking & seeking technical ways
and means.

This is the strategy of the profes-
sional, the artist’s mantra—one doesn’t
have to depend upon the vicissitudes
of emotion or inspiration; one doesn’t
have to depend upon the limitations of
one’s own self. It isn’t a coincidence that
aphotograph (concluded on page 154)

73

m
« + *

AT 19 ER.

BEAT

NAY MAN- ТО

DEATH

AND WAS SENTENCED
IOLIPE
WITEOUT
PAROLE,
DECADES

LATER
HRS ONLY
FREEDOM

LIES IN.

CONJURING THE

PAST

AND RE-CREATING HIS

PRESENT
LAST
DAYS
ON THE

OTHER
SIDE OF

THE
FENCES
ЕСІ

thousand seven hun-
dred;and ninety-one
days and counting.
Through no one’s fault `

woke up in the

but my own, I exist'asa -

number, a body filling
га carefully delineated
space, а breathing
statistic. Looking out
across the horizon of
time at the next thou-
“sand days, I can see
only more of the same.
"So I-häve had to create

t

> е е “

ways to achieve some
measure .of release,

even if it is of an illu- « -

sory nature. | -— ^
„Most evenings, Г.
hang: a blue towel off
the-edge of the top
bunk to secure some
degree of privacy, put
on my oversize head-
phónes, click on a rock
CD, lie back and fall
out of this constrained
and restricted world. Е
put my writing board
„across my knees and -
pick up a Pilot Better
Ball Point, medium,
‚black. I use these pens
only for serious writ-
ing, creative writing,
for the express pur-
pose of writing my |
mind back in time and
out of prison. -
+ E е
Just a few nights before
I dove off the face of
reality into this irre-
ality, I wander alone
own a residential
street in the quiet
hours of the night still
tasting Arlene, a beau-
tiful, brown-skinned
girl. She had spread
her black hair, its tan-
gled tresses and heavy
solidity, its vitality
and coarse strength,
across my lap. Look-
ing up at me, she told
me how the blue and
green flecks in my eyes
reminded her of Christ-
mas lights. I ran my.
hands over her breasts,
the soft skin giving way
_as she arched her back
slightly and gasped a
little gasp. When I put
my arms under her
and lifted her mouth
to mine, it was as if
she weighed nothing;
she curled into a ball
of warmth and girlish
passion. Her mouth: `
tasted of cherry Tic
Tacs.and the ocean.
Later, I walk aim-
lessly, smoking Camels
and imagining Arlene
lying under me naked..
I sit on the back bump-
ers of anonymous

BY KENNETH
Е. HARTMAN

* ILLUSTRATION BY TATIANA PLAKHOVA .

76

cars parked in random driveways, star-
ing straight up into the night sky. I can
never see the Milky Way. For me it is
simply the name of a candy bar. My stars
are the streetlights and the searchlights
on the bellies of the helicopters buzz-
ing around, disturbing the peace of the
night. I’m certain the next time I have
her alone, the next time she falls in love
with the idea of my eyes staring into the
dark forever of hers, she and I will do
more than kiss and caress each other—
we will make love like the first humans.

But Arlene’s charms exist now only
at the end of my Better Ball Point.
Young Mexican girls no longer defy
their fathers and sneak off to the hun-
gry embrace of their bad-seed white-boy
neighbors for a stolen moment of rough
passion. No, her delicacy has disap-
peared and lives only in a place out of
place and out of sync, frozen in concrete
and caged inside iron bars.

Days before that delicious experience,
I sit on the edge of a battered green
picnic table in the darkest hours of the
night explaining to Brenda she cannot
spend herself on me. She suffers from
the diminished status of young girls in
my neighborhood. Most of them her
age have already had many partners;
they are passed around like pretty bau-
bles to show off and trade. But Brenda
possesses disquieting qualities that sep-
arate her from the other drug-addled
girls in their cutoff jeans and poorly
applied makeup.

I feel a powerful connection to her
that has a transcendent nature, an out-
of-time sense that draws me to her and
her to me. Though she is only 13, her
soul is ageless. Somehow, she knows my
fate is to die to her world, and she does
not want to wait for a moment that will
never arrive.

Brenda’s pink wristwatch is broken.
I give her mine, a silver pocket watch
that has survived its bruising, weeks-
long encounter with me. I promise to
get hers repaired and return it to her in
response to her prediction of my immi-
nent disappearance. I walk her home

and hold her hand in mine. She tells me,
in a voice too serious for her age, that
I am breaking her heart. I can hear it
coming apart as I kiss her forehead and
leave with a little girl’s watch in my front
pocket. When I turn back to wave, she
has taken her broken heart and gone
inside. She is only 13.

Back in the park, blowing smoke rings
in the cold air, I ponder this encounter,
rolling her watch in my hand. Secretly,
from my waking self, I am a little afraid
of Brenda. She knows me in ways I do
not; in her eyes I can read nothing,
gather no information. Perhaps in Salem
or some other overwrought place she
would have been burned at the stake for
her otherworldliness, for her connec-
tions to the earth’s vast intelligence.

Brenda’s predictions were accurate
for both of us, unfortunately. I did,
indeed, never return with her broken
watch. It vanished as surely as I van-
ished. Her broken heart blinded her
from that beguiling inner sight she had
then, so she blindly connected to a string
of losers who left her a brood of children
and rotten teeth eaten away by the acid
of methedrine’s false exhilaration.

A couple of months earlier, sitting on
the edge of another green picnic table,
in another, much nicer park, I watch
Gail struggle through the grass on the
points of her high heels. She wears
painted-on white Levi’s and a tight
top that outlines her generous curves.
I am only hours freed from the grasp
of one of the California Youth Author-
ity’s juvenile prisons, aged out at 19,
floundering around trying to figure out
how to swim. Several years have evapo-
rated while I fought my way to the top
of an imaginary heap, the mock hier-
archy of boys pretending to be men in
a prison pretending not to be a prison.
Deprived of the counterbalance of
girls and dreams, we had undergone
a devolution back to protohumans, all
hormones and posturing and endless,
mindless violence.

We lived in long dorms, two rows of
40 beds in the main bay, a dozen single

rooms down one side. A large communal
shower and toilet area with institutional
green tiles too often covered with blood
and come, regularly reverberating with
muffled wails of pain, and a spartan day-
room completed the accommodations.
Around the quad were seven more of
these euphemistically named “cottages,”
each reeking of desperation.

At the top of the inner road was the
one different building, the Intensive
Treatment Program or, more honestly,
the hole. A fight bought you a 24, a full
cycle of the sun, and repeated combat
a 72. They put us in small windowless
rooms, naked, with a ratty mattress and
a sheet crazily stitched to deter noose
making. Every time I did a 24 or a 72,
I spent the time furiously masturbat-
ing and counting meals until I was let
back out. Occasionally, I would lie on my
back and kick the door until the youth
counselors arrived and ran in to beat
the resistance back out of me.

Gail is the first girl I run into after
years of living on the island of angry
boys. As she comes toward me, I cannot
shake an overwhelming fury, a vicious
self-reproach and castigation over how
I could have allowed my own idiocy to
deprive me of this gorgeous creature.
The last time she and I rolled in the
grass behind her parents’ house, she
was 15, a freshly minted young woman.
This new, older girl still has a dusting of
freckles across her nose and chest; her
eyes are still liquid green and electric,
her hair the same shining dark-brown
cascade. I can see her nipples pressing
against her tan sweater.

Over the next couple of days, I have
sex with her with the passion of a brute,
а joyless mechanical thrusting that leaves
me unfulfilled and irritated. She has
become the vessel for my self-loathing.
I pour it into her in great, hot loads of
bottomless rage. In her eyes, I see only
confusion and fear. There is nothing left
of the soaring love of the past. I smother
her in all I cannot forgive myself for.

The last time I see her, Gail makes
one more try to reach down into me
to find who I had been on those barely
remembered (concluded on page 190)

»

“Not bad—I'd suggest a threesome.

77

PRIVATE
DANCER

In a nod to Natalie Portman
and Mila Kunis in this month’s
racy ballet thriller Black Swan,
model Nina Bajerska portrays
a seductive danseuse
of her own

We - ж- жм ж ж + б ж. ө» o o e

Photography by
MARLENA BIELINSKA

he arching poses and graceful

gestures of dancers have earned

the admiration of many an art-
ist, and it’s easy to see why: A dancer’s
supple athleticism only adds to the
appeal of the already enticing female
form. French impressionist Edgar Degas
was so captivated by the sight of bal-
lerinas stretching and elongating their
limbs that it inspired his celebrated
series of oil paintings, pastels, draw-
ings and sculptures of dancers at work.
Ballet is more provocative than ever
thanks to the upcoming psychologi-
cal thriller Black Swan, in which Natalie
Portman and Mila Kunis share some
intense moments—including an erotic
kiss—as rival ballerinas immersed in a
sinister, sexually charged dance world.
While the average man may not know
his Petrouchka from his Swan Lake, such
ignorance does not preclude him from
appreciating the swan herself. Polish
beauty Nina Bajerska demonstrates
this fact as she channels the sensuous
side of ballet for photographer Mar-
lena Bielinska. A true romantic (Nina
dreams of “being in love for eter-
nity” and her motto is “Love is like a
revolution—it doesn’t work out for the
weak of heart”), she makes the perfect
ballerina muse. She confesses that in
her free time “sinful thoughts abound.”
We can certainly relate.

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't work out for the
WEAK OF HEA

it doesn

(84

A CENTURY AFTER HIS DEATH, ТУН AEC ШЕ TV ATR

PRESENTS HERE + for the first time anywhere -> HIS TAKE

ON THE D U B IOUS A R T ОҒ FORTUNE-TELLING.
A PLAYBOY EXCLUSIVE

In 1905 Mark Tıvaim WAS ASKED BY А MAGAZINE EDITOR TO PROVIDE PRINTS OF HIS
PALMS ТО ВЕ INTERPRETED BY SEVERAL PROFESSIONAL PALM READERS. He was to be
anonymous TO THEM. FROM THE PALM READERS' REPORTS (which are in italic
type below) AND TWAIN'S RESPONSES, WE HAVE SELECTED THE FOLLOWING

TT IN PUBLISHED PASSAGES.

According to the science of Palmistry, this is a Philosophic type of

hand. — Philosophic mind. True.

®

The subject is beyond doubt a great Student, a
Thinker and Reformer, broad-minded, with
a liberal religious sentiment without ref-
erence to creed or form. — Student of
morals, and of man’s nature—in

that sense, yes, Iam a student,

for that study is interesting

and enticing, and requires no
painful research, no systematic

labor, no midnight-oil effects.

But I have never been a student

of anything which required of

me wearying and distasteful labor.

It is for this reason that the relations
between me and the multiplication
table are strained.

The rest of the paragraph is true, in detail
and in mass. In the line of high philosophics I was always
a thinker, but was never regarded by the world as the
thinker until the course of nature retired Mr. Spencer
from the competition.

®
He is progressive and farseeing, courageous in an emergency, but
frequently timid where there is no need of action or quick thought.
With him an emergency is an inspiration. ~ “Progressive and
farseeing.” I acknowledge it.

“Courageous in an emergency.” That is too general.
There are many kinds of emergencies: we are all good in
one or two kinds; some are good in several kinds; but the
person who is prompt and plucky in all emergencies is—
well, nonexistent. He has never lived. Ша man were drown-
ing, I would promptly jump in after him; but if he were fall-
ing from a 10th-story window I shouldn’t know enough to
stand from under. You perceive? I am a good and confident
swimmer, and have had several emergency-experiences
in the water which were of an educating kind, but I have
never had a person try to fall on me out of a skyscraper. Do
you get the idea? The philosophy of it is this: emergency-
courage is rather a product of experience than a birthright.
No person, when new and fresh, has emergency-courage
enough to set a grip on his purse the first time he is offered
a chance to cheaply buy a patent that is going to revolution-
ize steam—no, it is the subsequent occasions that find him
ready with his gun. I repeat—the palmist has been too gen-
eral. He should have named the kind of emergencies which
find my courage ready and unappalled. I am not saying he
could not have done this; and there is one thing which in

fairness I must concede: that where brevity is required of the
palmist, he is obliged to generalize, he cannot particularize.
Bi
His sense of justice is very keen; harshness
to others amounting to personal injury to
himself. He is sensitive, impressionable
and reticent, hence is not easily un-
derstood by his associates. ~ Again.
Generalized, this is true of no
one; particularized, it is true of
everybody. Harshness to Mr.
Henry A. Butters of Long Val-
ley would not grieve my spirit,
the spectacle of the King of
the Belgians dangling from the
gibbet where he belongs would
make me grateful. I (along with the
whole race) am sensitive (to ridicule
and insult); impressionable (where the
sex is concerned); reticent (where inconvenient
truths are required of me).

&
Disposition ordinarily is excellent. He is submissive rather than
aggressive, yet radical and. determined at heart. His manner is
gentle, only becoming brusque or nonchalant when stirred to
self defense. — Again. Generalized thus, this fits the great

majority ofthe human race—including me. It fits the worm,
too—to a dot. Read it carefully over, and you will see.

ES)

Self-reliance, internal courage, with an intuitive knack of sound-
ing public sentiment render him capable of becoming a successful
leader in the financial and political world, a supporter of any and
all innovations that tend toward advancement. ~ My fondness
for experiments and innovations is really above the aver-
age, I believe. My mother was like that; my sister, who was
an interested and zealous invalid during 65 years, tried
all the new diseases as fast as they came out, and always
enjoyed the newest one more than any that went before;
my brother had accumulated 42 brands of Christianity
before he was called away.... But the rest of the paragraph
contains errors, particularly the part about political and
financial leadership. No kind of leadership could ever
be in my line. It would curtail my freedom; also it would
make me work when I did not want to work. My nature
would fret and complain and rebel, and I should fail.

Es)
His early life is not marked fortunate; menaced by reverses until
near his 16th year. After that period excellent things were in store

The palm print of Mark Twain’s hand (at left) was provided to a palm reader so Twain’s fortune could be divined. Twain died on April 21,
1910 in Redding, Connecticut.

for him. ~ No опе ever said a truer thing. Up to the age
of seven I was at the point of death nearly all the time, yet
could never make it. It made the family tired. Particularly
my father, who was of a fine and sensitive nature, and it
was difficult for him to bear up under disappointments. In
the next eight years—I am speaking the truth, I give you
my word of honor—I was within one gasp of drowning
nine different times, and in addition was thrice brought to
the verge of death by doctors and disease; yet it was all of
no use, nothing could avail, it was just one reverse after
another, and here I am to this day. With every hope long
ago blighted. Are these the reverses that stand written in
my hand? I know of no others, of that early time.

©

Fortunately һе is not constitutionally frail. Excellently endowed with
physical force, he will reach beyond the proverbial limit of life with-
out serious interruption. This stronghold on life he inherits. ~ First
sentence. Seems so, from the revelations which I have just
made. But how does he find it out from the flat print of my
hand? It is very curious. I have seldom been sick since I was
15; I am 69 now. Third sentence: the inheritance is from my
mother’s side. She was a Lampton. No Lampton ever died
prematurely, except by courtesy of the sheriff.

8
Heis made of the finest clay, is high-minded, has a will of steel hardly
ever asking or taking advice. ~ That about the clay is all right.

©

His judgment can be fully relied upon. — Fatally indefinite.
Judgment of what—not stated. Apples? literature? weath-
er? whiskey? theology? hotels? emperors? oysters? horses?

As regards emperors and weather my judgment is better
than any other person’s, but as regards all other things I
know it to be bad.

&

The Line of Respiration on the base of the Mount of Jupiter shows
that his lungs demand a liberal supply of oxygen. — Exactly and
remarkably true—of everybody's lungs.
©

The Line of Blood Circulation shows him to have regular heart-
beats, and a strong and steady pulsation of blood. ~ Does it
mean that I have a strong pulse? In that case it is an error.
I have a sort of a kind of a pulse, it is true, but not every
doctor can find it and swear to it. The Marienbad special-
ist felt around over my breast and back and abdomen and
said with quite unnecessary frankness that he could not
prove that I hadn’t a heart, but that if I had one it would be
an advantage to trade it for a potato.

&

The Mount of Luna shows him to be exquisitely moulded, honor-
able and faithful. ~ “Exquisitely moulded.” It is hereditary in
the family. Exquisitely moulded and attractive, people often
say. Some have thought me the most attractive thing in the
universe except that mysterious and wonderful force which
draws all matter toward its throne in the sun, the Attrac-
tion of Gravitation; others go even further, and think I am
that sublime force itself. These commonly speak of me as
the Center of Gravity. Over great stretches of the earth's
surface I am known by no name but that—the Center of
Gravity. It pleases me and makes me happy, but I often feel
that it may not be true. God knows. It is not for me to say.

1 LIFE LINE
2 HEAD LINE
3 HEART LINE
4 HEALTH LINE
5 FATE LINE
5 FAME LINE
7 MARRIAGE LINE
5 MONEY LINE
Э SEX LINE
10 SPIRIT LINE
П TRAVEL LINE
12 LUCK LINE

“I asked a few questions of minor importance-paid her $2 and left-under the decided impression that going to the fortune-
teller's was just as good as going to the opera, and cost scarcely a trifle more-ergo, I would disguise myself and go again,
one of these days, when other amusements failed." — Letter to Orion Clemens, February 6, 1861

The complete readings and responses are forthcoming in the second volume of the Autobiography of Mark Twain. The first volume was published this November by the University
of California Press. This text was prepared from the original manuscript by editors at the Mark Tivain Project at the Bancroft Library of the University of California.

‘Aha! The creature 15 stirring!”

87

a A ~ /
a GN O O NO FE CO OOO OC OT OCC“
МУ “2

R

Our guide to home mixology,
with an exclusive DIY cock-
tail generator and tips from

AMERICA S

SEXIEST BARTENDER,

as voted by you
By Terry Sullivan

hen you want some-
thing done right,
you just have to
do it yourself. Wise
men will ignore the sexual implica-
tions of this, but it’s certainly true of
cocktails. Unless you’re drinking in
the best of select boites, you’ll make a
better drink at home. And you needn’t
miss out on the latest in mixology,
because you’re going to create your
own cocktails, with a little help. Over
the next four pages you'll get bar-
tending tips from a master—Nicholle
Lottman, America’s Sexiest Bartender.
You saw her in our November issue
and voted by the thousands at playboy
сот. We'll also tell you how to design
your own cocktails, what whiskeys
to buy for the holidays and more.
Thirsty yet? Time to mix it up.

Winner of our America’s Sexiest Bar-
tender contest: Nicholle Lottman
of Porcelli’s Bistro in Cleveland.

%

DRESS PROVIDED BY IKRAM

How to designa

was a “stimulating liquor, com-
posed of spirits of any kind, sugar, water and bitters. It is
vulgarly called a bittered sling.” Or so it says in an 1806 New
York newspaper. That sling begat fizzes, juleps, cobblers and,
eventually, the pantheon of modern cocktails, including the
sainted family of sours. At heart a great many drinks share
this original DNA—a base spirit with sugar and something
to balance the sweetness. A rule of thumb: two parts spirit,
one part sweet, one part sour. Use tequila, triple sec and lime
and you’ve made a margarita. Rum, sugar and lime make a

signature cocktail

daiquiri. Brandy, triple sec and lemon is a sidecar. Want to go
one step further? Add a splash of a grace note. Vodka, triple
sec and lime is a kamikaze, but a little cranberry juice makes
it a cosmo. Splash grenadine in a daiquiri and you’ve made a
Bacardi cocktail. Or add a dash of soda or ginger ale to your
concoction for a successful long drink. (A whiskey collins,
after all, is nothing but a whiskey sour with seltzer added.)
Pick your ingredients from the chart below and go play. E-mail
us your best efforts via the web at letters.playboy.com and we
might just feature your cocktail in a future issue.

Combine the ingredients and shake very hard with ice, then serve over ice or
straight up in a chilled cocktail glass.

SWEET

| SHOT

1
SPIRITS

2 SHOTS (OR ONE SHOT OF 2 SPIRITS)

Cointreau
or other orange liqueur

Maraschino
(the liqueur, not the
cherry juice)

Simple Syrup
(recipe: 1 cup water,
4 cup sugar, boiled so
the sugar dissolves)

3 4

GRACE NOTES

SPLASH OR A DASH

Freshly Squeezed
Lime Juice

Freshly Squeezed
Lemon Juice

Freshly Squeezed
Grapefruit Juice

GLASSWARE ILLUSTRATIONS BY KEVIN SPROULS

Take the edge off
the holidays

with these exotic
whiskeys

Yes, Virgil, there is no Santa Claus.
It doesn’t matter if you’ve been bad or
good, because nobody’s reading your
list. You’re getting Lady Gaga socks, a
membership to the Soup of the Month
Club and a rechargeable shoehorn—
because people think you’re “hard to
buy for.” Which you’re not, of course.
In fact, you’re the easiest person to buy
for. Which brings us to the subject of
this sidebar: fine bottles of whiskey.
Become your own private Santa and sip
your way through our united nations of
distillation. United States: Parker’s Her-
itage Collection Golden Anniversary

($150). Parker Beam himself blended
this bourbon from whiskeys made dur-
ing his 50 years at Heaven Hill; it’s a
little something from every decade.
Oranges and honey. Ireland: Midle-
ton Very Rare ($136). It’s been called
the world’s best blended whiskey, cre-
ated in County Cork by Barry Crockett.
Toffee, creamy and dreamy. Japan: Sun-
tory Yamazaki 18-year-old single malt
($85). Though it’s distilled outside
Kyoto, this tastes a hell of a lot like
a Scottish Speyside. Meaty and spicy,
lots of honey. Scotland: The 18-year-
old Dalmore ($150). Fourteen years

FORTY CREE]

w SKY]

in bourbon casks and finished off in
oloroso sherry butts. Big, rich, cof-
fee and toffee, with a slug of Spain at
the end. Canada: Forty Creek Barrel
Select ($25). Not your father’s Cana-
dian. Made from rye, barley and corn
whiskeys individually pot-distilled and
aged, then married in sherry casks.
Bittersweet chocolate and walnuts.
India: Amrut Peated Single Malt ($60).
Whiskey from India? Yeah, India. It’s a
subcontinental sweet, distilled in Ban-
galore. Liquor boffin Jim Murray once
named an Amrut the third best whiskey
in the world. Figs and spices.

Apunch and a nog that

will fuel your holiday party till dawn

Here’s an alternative to
eggnog, because you've had enough sticky
cream to last a lifetime. The lactose-free
Tom and Jerry is named for a couple of
London bons vivants who predated that
cat-and-mouse act by a hundred years or
so. This recipe comes from Miller’s Pub
in Chicago, where it’s been served from

Thanksgiving to New Year’s since 1950.

How about a
punch for guests who can take a punch? As
hooch-meister David Wondrich points out
in his newest offering, Punch: The Delights
(and Dangers) of the Flowing Bowl ($24, Per-
igee), the Spread Eagle was created in the
19th century by “Professor” Jerry Thomas.
The term referred to the emblem on the
seal of the United States, as well as the
stock trader’s bet (meaning to buy on mar-
gin). “What could be more American than
going out on a limb in the hope of getting
something for nothing?” Wondrich writes.
Herewith, a superbowl:

SEXIEST BARTENDER

has lots of regulars at
Porcelli’s Bistro in Cleveland, which is no sur-
prise. The 25-year-old knows her way around a
stocked bar, and she’s got a smile that could, in
the immortal words of Raymond Chandler, make
a bishop kick a hole in a stained glass window.
We first featured Nicholle in our online America’s
Sexiest Bartender poll some months ago, along
with other bartending bombshells. You voted. So
did we. Now here Nicholle is. So what does she
have to say about it? Here are five tips from a pro
to help you throw the ultimate holiday party.

“It’s all about prep,” says Nicholle. Make sure your bar is fully stocked—
from liquor and wine to glassware—and do as much work as you can before
your guests arrive. “Have your martini glasses chilled,” she says. “And
remember, ice is your friend. Never run out.”

Use fresh lime and lemon juice rather than the premade stuff. Nicholle
adds, “If you want to get ambitious, make drinks with fresh mint and
basil,” such as a mojito or a basil cocktail, her signature drink.

A holiday party? Think seasonally. “Don’t be afraid to add vanilla vodka
to hot chocolate,” Nicholle says, “or peppermint schnapps to liven up
an eggnog.”

Know your classics. “If someone wants a manhattan, a margarita or a
sidecar,” she says, “yours will stack up to the best in town.”

Always have a bottle of something special stocked away, adds Nicholle.
“Say, a bottle of champagne tucked into the back of the fridge—ready for
an intimate afterparty.”

4 © Apply to be America’s Sexiest Bartender at playboy.com/pose.

а

01

PLAYBOY: You aren’t known for doing action movies. After
co-starring in Tron: Legacy, have you discovered a hidden enthu-
siasm for kicking ass?

WILDE: Yes. | love it! The great thing about doing movies
with lots of stunts is that it feels as if I’m having the athletic
experience | never had in high school. | was a theater nerd,
and | always envied my friends on the field hockey and soccer
teams. They had a relationship with their coach that was so
supportive, with the coach saying, “| believe in you! Go get ет,
tiger!” Working with these movie stunt teams, I'm finally able
to experience that. You can show up weak and scrawny for a
movie, with 80 percent body fat, and they'll say, "You can do

these stunts!" For actors who weren't athletes in high school
that's an amazing feeling.

Q2

PLAYBOY: Your costume for Tron is a skintight suit made out of
rubber and neon. Is your character a stripper from the future?

WILDE: [Laughs] My costume is actually the toughest, most
badass thing l've ever seen. And it doesn't show very much
skin. It would be difficult to be a stripper in that suit because it's
almost impossible to get it off. It would be a three-hour strip-
tease and you'd need at least five assistants onstage with you.

(continued on page 167)

УШК PALAHNUK-

WHOS THERE? 7/77
THE ULTIMATE PUNCH LINE ©

he makes everything into a
Big Joke. What can I say? The
» old man loves to get a laugh.

Growing up, half the time I didn’t have a clue what his jokes
were about, but I laughed anyways. Down at the barbershop, it
didn’t matter how many guys my father let take cuts ahead of
him in line, he just wanted to sit there all Saturday and crack
people up. Make folks bust a gut. For my old man, getting his
sideburns trimmed was definitely a low priority.
He says, “Stop me if you’ve heard this one before....” The
Ф way my old man tells it, he walks into the oncologist’s office
! and he says, “After Ше chemotherapy, will I be able to play
- the violin?”
In response, the oncologist says, “It’s metastasized. You’ve
в ез | got six months to live....”
Ж % And working his eyebrows like Groucho Marx, tapping the
ash from an invisible cigar, my old man says, “Six months?”
He says, “I want a second opinion.”

So the oncologist, he says, “Okay, you’ve got cancer and
your jokes stink.”

So they do chemotherapy, and they give him some radia-
tion like they do even if the shit burns him up so bad on the
inside he tells me that taking a piss is like passing razor blades.
He’s still every Saturday down by the barbershop telling jokes
even if now he’s bald as a cue ball. I mean, he’s skinny as a
bald skeleton, and he’s getting to haul around one of those
cylinders of oxygen under pressure, like some little version of
a ball and chain. He walks into the barbershop dragging that

ILLUSTRATION BY ANTHONY PONTIUS

96

pressurized cylinder of oxygen with the tube of it going up
and looping around his nose, over his ears and around his
bald head, and he says, “Just a little off the top, please.” And
folks laugh. Understand me: My old man is no Uncle Miltie.
He’s no Edgar Bergen. The man’s skinny as a Halloween
skeleton now and bald and going to be dead by six weeks so
it don’t matter what he says, folks are going to hee-haw like
donkeys just out of their genuine affection for him.

But, seriously, I’m not doing him justice. It’s my fault if
this doesn’t come across, but my old man is funnier than he
sounds. Maybe his sense of humor is а talent I didn't inherit.
Back when I was his little Charlie McCarthy, the whole time
growing up, he used to ask me, “Knock-knock?”

Га say, “Who’s there?”

Нед say, “Old Lady....”

Га say, “Old Lady who?”

And he’d say, “Wow, I didn’t know you could yodel!”

Me, I didn’t get it. I was so stupid, I was seven years old
and still stuck in the First Grade. I didn’t know Switzer-
land from Shinola, but I want for my old man to love me
so I learned to laugh. Whatever he says, I laugh. By “Old
Lady” my guess is he means my Mom who ran away and
left us. Alls my old man will say about her is how she was a
“Real Looker” who just couldn’t take a joke. She just was
NOT a Good Sport.

He used to ask me, “When that Vinnie van Gogh cut
off his ear and sent it to the whore he was so crazy about,
how'd he send it?"

Тһе punch line is “Не sent it by ear mail," but being seven
years old, I was still stuck back on not knowing who van
Gogh is or what's a whore, and nothing kills a joke faster
than asking my old man to explain himself. So when my
old man says, "What do you get when you cross a pig with
Count Dracula?”...I knew to never ask, "What's a Count
Dracula?" I'd just get a big laugh ready for when he tells
me, ^A Ham-pire!"

And when he says, “Knock-knock.”

And I say, “Who’s there?” And he says, “Radio.”

And I say, “Radio who?” And he’s ALREADY started to
bust a gut when he says, “Radio not I’m going to come in
your mouth....” Then—what the hell—I just keep laugh-
ing. My whole growing up I figure I’m just too ignorant to
appreciate a good joke. Me, my teachers still haven’t covered
long division and all the multiple-cation tables so it’s not my
old man’s fault I don’t know what’s “come.”

My old lady, who abandoned us, he says she hated that
joke, so maybe I inherited her lack of humor. But love...I
mean you have to love your old man. I mean, after you’re
born it’s not like you get a choice. Nobody wants to see their

NE ALL KNOW LAUGHTER IS THE BEST MEDIC

NE.

old man breathing out of some tank and going into the hos-
pital to die sky-high on morphine and he’s not eating a bite
of the red-flavored Jell-O they serve for dinner.

Stop me if I already told you this one, but my old man
gets that prostrate cancer that’s not even like cancer because
it takes 20, 30 years before we even know he’s so sick, and
the next thing I know is I’m trying to remember all the stuff
he’s taught me. Like, if you spray some WD-40 on the shovel
blade before you dig a hole the digging will go a lot easier.
And how not to shut my eyes when I pull a trigger. And he
taught me how to tie a shoelace and make a foul shot in
basketball. And he taught me jokes...lots of jokes.

And, sure, the man is no Robin Williams, but I watched
this movie one time about Robin Williams, who gets dressed
up with a red rubber ball on his nose and this big rainbow-
colored Afro wig and those big clown shoes with a fake
carnation stuck in his buttonhole of his shirt that squirts
water, and the guy’s a hotshot doctor who makes these little
kids with cancer laugh so hard they stop dying. Understand
me: These bald kid skeletons—who look lots-more worse
off than my old man—they get HEALTHY, and that whole
movie is based on a True Story.

What I mean is, we all know that Laughter is the Best
Medicine. All that time being stuck in the hospital Wait-
ing Room, I read EVERY copy of the Reader’s Digest. And
we've all heard the True Story about the guy with a brain
cancer the size of a grapefruit inside his skull and he’s about
to croak—all the doctors and priests and experts say he’s
a goner—only he forces himself to watch nonstop movies
about The Three Stooges. This Stage Four cancer guy forces
himself to laugh nonstop at Abbott and Costello and Laurel
and Hardy and those Marx brothers, and he gets healed by
the end-orphans and oxy-generated blood.

So I figure, what’ve I got to lose? All I need to do is
remember some of my old man’s favorite gags and to get
him started back laughing on the road to recovery. I figure,
what could it hurt?

So this grown-up son walks into his father’s hospice room,
pulls up a chair beside the bed and sits down. The son looks
into his old man’s pale, dying face and says, “So this blonde
gal walks into a neighborhood bar where she’s never been
before, and she’s got tits out to HERE and a tight little hei-
nie and she asks the bartender for a Michelob, and he serves
her a Michelob except he sneaks a Mickey Finn into her
bottle and this blonde goes unconscious, and every guy in
the bar leans her over the edge of the pool table and hikes
up her skirt and fucks her, and at closing time they slap
her awake and tell her she’s got to leave. And every few
days this gal with the tits and the (continued on page 156)

“Гт here to wish you a merry Christmas...!

»

97

STEAK GROWN IN PETRI DISHES? MACHINES THAT
CAN CREATE ORGANISMS NEVER BEFORE IMAG-
INED? TAKE A LOOK INTO THE (VERY NEAR) FUTURE

HOW TO CONSTRUCT YOUR OWN
LIVING, BREATHING, SYNTHETIC CREATURES Т

ВҮ
STEVEN
KOTLER

ILLUSTRATIONS BY KEMP REMILLARD

t has taken scientists centuries to under-

stand the mysteries of DNA, the basic

building block of life, which contains the
mgenetic instructions that define each
organism. Until recently, the furthest we
had come in creating new DNA was gene
splicing, essentially a cut-and-paste method
of combining one organism’s DNA with
another’s. The process is extremely difficult
and prone to error. But what if there were
a machine that could print out synthetic
codes of DNA and create a new species in
the process? There is. A DNA synthesizer
allows would-be life hackers to modify
existing organisms or build new ones.

Andrew Hessel, co-chair of Singularity
University’s biotechnology and bio-
informatics department, explains: “These
devices can essentially combine A, C, G,
T—the four bases that make up ОМА-іп
any order you want, with the ease of a
word processor. This means there’s less
of a need for expensive labs, and virtually
anyone can entertain the idea of creating
life from scratch.” The result? Revolu-
tionary biological innovations in months
rather than years, many by novices, at a
fraction of the historical cost.

What are some innovations in the
offing? Vaccines that can be quickly

produced to fight rapidly mutating dis-
eases such as AIDS, or one-of-a-kind
medical treatments tailored to an indi-
vidual’s DNA and disease.

But health care is only the beginning.
Inventor Craig Venter, who has been
accused of “playing God” for being the
first to create a synthetic life-form with a
DNA synthesizer, has partnered with Exxon
Mobil in a $600 million project to create
algae that turn carbon dioxide into gasoline

using the machine. Also, as the human race
begins to contemplate the settling of dis-
tant worlds, a DNA synthesizer is crucial to
the process. Says Simon “Pete” Worden,
director of the NASA Ames Research
Center, “If you’re going to be someplace
like Mars for a long time, then you have
two choices for resources: Either you set
up a very long supply chain with Earth—
which probably isn’t feasible—or you bring
along a DNA synthesizer, which allows you

to make everything you need using raw
materials found where you are.”

There is a potential downside to all
this progress. A DNA synthesizer could
make it easier for anyone, from curious
teenagers to dangerous psychopaths, to
create sinister biological organisms that
have never before appeared on Earth—
meaning that if you thought the anthrax
scare was bad, just wait till you see what
tomorrow might bring.

ROBOTICALLY ERECTING THE SUPERCITIES OF TOMORROW

obots build the cars we drive and

the clothes we wear, but despite
| the magnificent proliferation of

automation in the past millen-
nium, robots don’t build our houses. In
fact, outside of a few nifty power tools
and new crane design, the construction
industry has developed little innovation
over the past few decades.

Behrokh Khoshnevis is about to
change all that. An inventor, engi-
neering professor and director of the
Center for Rapid Automated Fabrica-
tion Technologies at the University of
Southern California, Khoshnevis has
spent the past 10 years perfecting Con-
tour Crafting—his name for the world’s
first completely automated home-
building technology. Contour Crafting
uses a computer-controlled robotic arm
to deposit layers of concrete atop one
another. Essentially, it’s the process of

"S

printing out houses, the way an ink-jet
printer layers ink.

Khoshnevis's eventual goal—which he
says is about three years and $30 mil-
lion in development money away—is
the ability to print a single-family home,
complete with plumbing and electrical
systems, in about 24 hours. Even better,
these homes will cost a quarter of what
conventional houses cost. When cou-
pled with microfinance systems already
in place, it makes home ownership a pos-
sibility for virtually everyone.

The houses would not be just ugly boxes.
As Scott Summit, an industrial designer
and co-founder of Bespoke Innovations,
explains, “What Dr. Khoshnevis has figured
out is a way to 3-D print with concrete. But
the beauty of that is complexity—meaning
elegant geometries and individual artistry
don't cost more." Three-dimensional print-
ing is construction through accretion, so

there's little waste (itself a huge saving,
since the U.S. generates an estimated
164 million tons of construction waste annu-
ally). You pay only for materials used.
“Contour Crafting is going to introduce

a level of intelligence

to architecture that

is significantly more THE GOAL

scalable and acces-

sible than anything IS ТО PRINT

we've ever seen,”

says Summit. DUT A
HOME IN 24

with designs for HOURS.

skyscraper-building

robots. This means that those once

impossible futuristic cities, with curved

And it’s not just
buildings and ridiculous skylines, are

single-family homes.
Khoshnevis has
suddenly a very real possibility.

already come up

100

AI |
ON

ood news for the marijuana grow-

ers of the world: Those who are

highly skilled in hydroponics and

aeroponics are soon to be in high
demand. Welcome to the brave new
world of vertical farming, a redesign of
our agricultural system in which crops
are grown hydroponically (i.e., without
soil) and aeroponically (without soil, by
suspending them in air and using sprays
to moisten roots) in futuristic green sky-
scrapers that will be situated throughout
the country, mainly in urban areas.

“You know what a greenhouse looks
like?” says Dickson Despommier, profes-
sor emeritus of microbiology and public
health at Columbia University and author
of The Vertical Farm. “Now just stack them
atop one another so they rise vertically
instead of stretch horizontally. They can be
five stories high and three blocks long or
30 stories high and half a block long.”

By 2050, the Earth’s population will
increase by 3 billion people. Feeding

INA EL un

ҮІ A R alc Іс

E MUSE

BACKYARD NUKES: Small-scale
nuclear reactors are the size of refrig-
erators. They’re buried in the ground
(so no terrorist issues), run for years
without refueling and could be com-
ing to a suburb near you.

3C 2 9 DD г 9 2 ) ( «А
JGnrnr cn AND
THE NEXT-GEN FARM COULD LODK MORE LIKE THE SEARS NET

them, experts say, will require adding
10 billion hectares of farmland—essentially
an area larger than Brazil. Arable land is
now in short supply and shrinking. Pro-
ponents of vertical farms say they will
solve this issue and others, too.

How does it work? First, it takes sun-
light to grow crops, so these buildings
are designed to receive maximum shine.
Parabolic mirrors will bounce light, and
the structure’s exterior will be skinned
in ethylene tetrafluoroethylene, a rev-
olutionary polymer that is extremely
light, nearly bulletproof, self-cleaning
and as transparent as water. Grow
lights will be used, but the electricity
needed will be generated by captur-
ing the energy we now flush down our
toilets. That’s right: We will recycle our
own dung. “New York City alone,” says
Despommier, “is shitting away 900 mil-
lion kilowatts of electricity each year.”

“Vertical farms are immune to weather
and other natural elements, like pests, that

LAB ON A CHIP: On Star Trek this gad-
get is called a “tricorder,” a handheld
device doctors use to collect bodily
info, perform genetic tests and diag-
nose diseases almost instantly.
IMMERSIVE VIRTUAL REALITY: Imagine
Madden NFL 20. You’re in a 3-D environ-
ment, on the field, holding the ball and
facing down Ray Lewis!

GIANT GRAVEL BATTERIES: Huge silos
filled with crushed stones can store energy
when the sun goes down or the wind stops
blowing, making widespread solar and
wind power a viable possibility.

SPACE ELEVATOR: Why spend all that
money launching people and resources
to space stations? You can send them up
in an elevator (made from carbon nano-
tubes, of course).

BIOSIMULATION: Testing new drugs in
computers instead of on humans could

can abort food production,” adds Des-
pommier. “Crops can be grown year-round
under optimal conditions. And efficiency
rates are astounding; each skyscraper
floor equivalent to one acre in carbon
footprint could produce the equivalent
of 10 to 20 traditional soil-based acres
while eliminating the need for fossil fuels
now used for plowing, fertilizing, seeding,
weeding and harvesting—a big deal since
farming consumes 20 percent of all the
fossil fuels used in the U.S. On top of that,
we can reforest the old farmland.”

Lastly, vertical farms could radically alter
our notion of fresh food. Right now the
average American foodstuff travels 1,300
to 1,500 miles before being consumed.
With vertical farms in and around cities,
gone are the fuel costs and greenhouse-
gas emissions generated when shipping
produce. The number of days it now takes
for sustenance to reach our plates will turn
into the minutes it will take to walk a head
of lettuce down a city block.

lead to clear results far faster.
BEAMED POWER: No more weighing
down our rocket ships with fuel. We will
beam power directly from satellites.
INJECTABLE TISSUE ENGINEERING:
Using shots of stem cells, doctors
could soon be able to repair dam-
aged heart tissue and restore sight
to the blind.

SMART GRID: The next-gen electrical
grid will have digital meters (no more
strangers showing up to look in your
closet) and new fail-safes. President
Obama has announced $3.4 billion in
grants for new smart-grid trials.
IMPLANTABLE ELECTRONICS: Minia-
ture medical devices, such as vital-signs
monitors and pacemakers, are made
out of silkworm cocoons, among other
things, and are buried beneath your
skin. What’ll they think of next?

t’s asunny Saturday, and Junior is driv-

ing me around Stanford University. He’s

a smooth operator—making elegant

turns, avoiding pedestrians. This may
not sound like much, but Junior’s not your
typical driver. Specifically, he’s not human.
Junior is a car: a 2006 Volkswagen Passat
Wagon, to be exact. More particularly, he
is an autonomous vehicle, known in hacker
slang as a “robocar.”

Built by a team of Stanford brains,
Junior has all the standard stylings, but
he also has a Velodyne HDL-64E High
Definition Lidar sensor strapped to the
roof—which costs $80,000 and generates
1.3 million 3-D data points of information
every second. There's an omni-directional
video-camera system, five radar detectors
and one of the planet's most techno-
logically advanced GPS systems (worth
$150,000). From the passenger seat, the
car looks almost normal, give or take a
few foreign gizmos. Load in a destination,
and off you go. The steering wheel turns,
the brake pedal moves up and down, and
there's no human intervention.

Junior may sound pie in the sky for
mass market, but advocates say robo-
cars will be ferrying many of us hither and

yon by 2020. Most major car companies
have an autonomous car division, crafting
future driverless cars right now.

The possibilities for military use are
endless, but what of civil-
ian life? You'll never
have to fill your
tank (whether with

JUNIOR IS
NUT YOUR
TYPICRL
DRIVER.
НЕ 15 МОТ
HUMAN.

hydrogen, gas or sea-

weed juice) because your car will take care
of that for you while you sleep. During your
commute you can nap or have sex with
your girlfriend. And seriously, have that
extra after-work martini, because you will

never again have to worry about a DUI.
Brad Templeton, founder of robocars
.com, points to a critical factor: “In Amer-
ica alone, 37,261 fatalities occurred in
2008 because of cars. Each year we
spend more than $230 billion in accident
costs because of human driver error.”
And what of computer glitches or the

4,

possibility Junior could go over to the dark
side, a la Hal 9000? Junior has a big red
panic button on the dashboard that imme-
diately disconnects the robomechanism
should the car get a case of road rage.

IN VITRO Neal 71

he meat industry is a
disaster. Cattle are energy
hogs, with the standard
ratio of energy input to
beef output being 40 to one.
Ranching produces 18 percent of
our planet’s greenhouse gases—more
than all the cars in the world—and is
one of the leading causes of soil ero-
sion and deforestation. An even
bigger issue is disease. Tightly
packed herds are breeding
grounds for pandemics. :

But with global demand for
meat expected to double by 2050,
the problems can get only worse.
Unless something changes radi-
cally. Which it just might.

There is already a solution. The
bad news? No one knows what
to call it. It has dozens of names:
“In vitro meat” is the moniker du
jour, but everything from “future
flesh” to “sci-fi sausage” has been
tossed around. Whatever you call
it, the goal is the same: to grow steak from
stem cells harvested from cows.

Steak may be a while away. In 2009 sci-
entists in the Netherlands turned pig cells
into pork—though Mark Post, a profes-
sor of physiology at Eindhoven University

pa
>

A”

of Technology and the
~ lead researcher on the

7 project, says the meat

is not quite ready
for market. “Actual
muscle has a protein
content of about 98 per-
2 cent,” һе says. “We're at 85
Y percent right now. What we cre-
ated looks like a scallop.” Post also
says no one has yet tasted this par-
ticular scallop. Besides getting
the texture right, there are other
issues: how to scale up the bio-
reactors (the containers in
which the meat is grown), how
“ to mimic the nutrient-delivery
service that is the body’s blood
system. But scientists believe
these problems are solvable.
“Conventional ground beef
will always be bad for you,”
says Jason Matheny, founder
of New Harvest, a nonprofit
research organization working
to develop in vitro meat. “You can’t
turn a cow into a salmon, but cultured
meat allows us to do just that. With in
vitro meat we can create a hamburger
that prevents heart attacks rather than
one that causes them.”

101

102

|
7 Чем С”

«What happens if I have an elf or something?”

“In the words of the Artful Dodger, ‘Santa Claus helps those who help themselves.’”

“Га like to see Miss December...I’m Mr. December.” “Well, God bless us one and all—it’s Tiny Tim!”

m

^ui Vi қ.
v өлу عد‎ y

“Who needs Santa Claus?” “Either of you gentlemen care for something 103
to nibble on?”

104

Phetaguaphy by Ay Praying

see true beauty in nature—the blue skies, exotic
flowers and perfect coral reefs,” says the mellifluously
mellow Ashley Hobbs. In particular, she revels in the
splendor of her hometown, the beach community of Kailua,
Hawaii, where the westward winds prevail and the sun sets
behind the Koolau Mountains. “I can never get enough of
all the colorful scenery!” Her parents moved their tight-
knit family from California to the island of Oahu when
Ashley was just two years old. (Her mother is of Hawaiian
descent.) “I was raised to keep my priorities straight and
have a serious work ethic,” she announces. True to her
hardwiring, for the past couple of years she has worked
part-time as a supervisor for a not-for-profit organization
while pursuing an associate’s degree in liberal arts. Lucky
for us, she also found time to become Miss December.
“These pictures are totally me,” Ashley says, “because I
love Christmas, which for me is all about food, family and
presents. And this year Hef has given me the best Christ-
mas present ever!” Though becoming a Playmate means
she must temporarily relocate from her beloved Hawaii
to Los Angeles—“I intend to raise my kids in a house with
a white picket fence on the Hawaiian beach”—Ashley has
found a new family to share her life with. “Hef and the
other Playmates are so generous and sweet,” she says.
“They have made me feel at home. It’s truly like having
another set of relatives. I couldn’t be more excited!”

— а -

“м.” ZA У.

же >:

See more of Miss December
|». — gtclub.playboy.com.

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PLAYBOY’S PARTY JOKES

Political speeches are like a steer: a point here,
a point there and a lot of bull in between.

A woman was having sex with her husband’s
best friend when the telephone rang and her
husband’s mobile number appeared on the
caller ID. As she answered the call, her lover
jumped out of the bed and began to dress
in a hurry.

“Relax,” she said after she hung up the
phone. “He was just calling to tell me that
he’ll be home late because he’s out bowling
with you.”

How is air like sex? It’s no big deal until you’re
not getting any.

A man passed away and left a will that des-
ignated $30,000 to cover the expense of an
elaborate funeral he wished to be held in his
honor. As the last guests were leaving the
service, a close family friend asked the man’s
widow how much of the money she had used
for the funeral.

“All of it,” the widow said. “I spent the whole
$30,000.”

“Oh,” exclaimed the friend. “I mean, it was
very nice, but $30,000?”

“The funeral was $6,500, I donated $500 to
the church, the food and refreshments were
another $500, and the rest went toward the
memorial stone,” the widow explained.

The friend quickly computed the total and
was stunned. “You spent $22,500 on a memo-
rial stone? How big 15 it?” the friend asked.

“Two and a half carats,” the widow replied.

One day a young boy walked into his parents’
bedroom and discovered his father sitting on
the side of the bed, sliding on a condom. In an
attempt to hide his erection and the rubber on
it, the father bent over and pretended to be
looking for something under the bed.

“What are you doing, Dad?” the boy asked.

“Oh,” the father replied, “I thought I saw a
rat go underneath the bed.”

Surprised, the boy said, “What are you going
to do, fuck it?”

One night, while a man and his girlfriend
were having hot and heavy sex, the girlfriend
started to scream and squirm as she never
had before.

“You know you were screwing me in the ass,
don’t your” she yelled.

“Actually,” her boyfriend admitted, “I wasn’t
quite sure.”

“Then why didn’t you stop and find out?”
she asked.

“Well,” he said, “you know how much men
hate to stop and ask for directions.”

What do you give the man who has every-
thing? Antibiotics.

A couple wanted to be adventurous, so one
night they wandered into the woods near their
house to have sex. After about 15 minutes the
man stopped and said, “Damn, I wish I had
brought a flashlight—I can’t see a thing.”

“I wish you had brought one too,” his girl-
friend replied. “You’ve been eating grass for
the past 10 minutes.”

How do women get minks? The same way
minks get minks.

УӘ

А girl was visiting her blonde friend, who had
just gotten two new dogs. “What did you name
them?” the girl asked her friend.

The blonde said, “One is named Rolex and
the other is named Timex.”

“Those are unusual names,” her friend said.
“How did you come up with them?”

“Well, duh,” the blonde replied, “they’re
watchdogs.”

One day a new patient walked into a doctor’s
office and said, “Doctor, I have an unusual
problem. I have five penises.”
“Well,” the doctor said, looking skeptical, “if
that’s the case, then how do your pants fit?”
The man replied, “Like a glove.”

Send your jokes to Party Jokes Editor, PLAYBOY, 680
North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago, Illinois 60611,
or by e-mail through our website at jokes .playboy.com.
PLAYBOY will pay $100 to the contributors whose sub-
missions are selected.

ra. © same a ER

—— we

COLLEGE |

Gonzaga rules. UCLA sputters. And Rick Pitino repents.

ast April the NCAA signed a

$10.8 billion deal with CBS and
Turner Broadcasting that allows the
two networks to beam March Madness
into our homes until 2024. How can the
NCAA fetch such a hefty price? In a
word (or, more aptly, month)—March.
Whether by design or dumb luck,

Now that's madness
By John Gasaway

every spring it hosts an epic single-
elimination tournament capable of
entrancing millions and devastating
workplace productivity. Yet for all the
surprises each college basketball sea-
son brings (see Butler's unexpected
tournament run in 2010), much will
remain the same: Duke will be good,

the Big Ten will be slow, and Dick Vitale
will overheat. Soon the madness will
begin anew—with 347 teams fighting
for 68 spots in a bracket that requires
three weeks to produce a single cham-
pion. To properly prepare you for the
delirium, here are the 11 most compel-
ling questions for the 2011 season.

PLAYBOY'S TOP 25

ж ж ж Ж
Ө Duke

Ө Michigan State

Q Pittsburgh
Q Florida

Q Washington
Q Villanova

Q North Carolina
© Ohio State

© Gonzaga

© Kansas

© Georgetown

© Temple

NO.1
PURDUE

PHOTOGRAPHY BY MATT WAGEMANN

С) Kansas State
© San Diego State
© Memphis

@ Kentucky

© Syracuse
© Butler

* ж Жж Ж

С) Baylor

© Ilinois

© Wisconsin
© Missouri
С) Xavier

© BYU

READ “PEN

11. ARE FRESHMAN PHENOMS
CURSED? Every year we celebrate the
arrival of the amazing one-and-done
freshman who gives our flatscreens a
badly needed respite from Tom Brady and
Peyton Manning. This year’s candidates?
North Carolina’s Harrison Barnes, Duke's
Kyrie Irving and Syracuse's Fab Melo.
But though they may be great individual
players, there is no guarantee they will
lead their teams to greatness. In fact,
since the NBA barred high schoolers four
years ago from bypassing college for the
draft, no team with a one-and-done fresh-
man has won the national championship.

10. CAN JOHN CALIPARI STAY OUT
OF TROUBLE? It’s hard not to hum
the car-chase classic “Foggy Mountain
Breakdown” when watching Calipari's
Kentucky team. After
all, the NCAA voided the
Final Four appearances
of both Massachusetts
(1996) and Memphis
(2008) after coach Cal
came through town.
He wasn't directly im-
plicated in either case, but the scandals
occurred on his watch. Now Calipari is
in the Bluegrass State with the type of
talent that interests agents and draws
scrutiny from the NCAA. Already, inves-
tigators in Indianapolis are looking into
the legitimacy of the high school tran-
scripts of former Wildcat Eric Bledsoe.
They are also probing current freshman
Enes Kanter's playing career in Turkey.

If Calipari does win a national title with
the Wildcats, the championship trophy
may read PENDING FURTHER REVIEW.

9. ARE BLUE-CHIP PROGRAMS THE
NEW DOORMATS? Just two years ago
UCLA, Louisville and Connecticut went a
combined 8-3 in the tournament, while
North Carolina won it all. Yet last season
only Louisville went to the dance—and
the Cardinals lost by 15 points to Cali-
fornia in the first round. Bank on another
year of losing for the Bruins; however, the
Tar Heels appear to have the necessary
talent to compete. As for the Cardinals
and Huskies....

8. САМ RICK PITINO АМО .ЛМ
CALHOUN BE REDEEMED? Тһе Big
East is nothing if not the home of the
big-time coaching diva. Exhibits A and
B—Louisville’s Pitino and Connecticut's
Calhoun. Alas, both coaching icons
would like to forget 2010. Pitino was the
target of an extortion attempt by Karen
Cunagin Sypher, who alleged that Pitino
impregnated her in a Louisville restau-
rant in 2003. While her plot failed—in
August she was found guilty of
extortion—the trial’s salacious
testimony shredded

Pitino's image. Cal-

houn's trouble was

with the NCAA.

When he returned

to the Huskies after
missing seven games

for unspecified health
reasons, investigators

sent Connecticut a notice

of allegations accusing W
Calhoun's staff of making 1
impermissible phone calls

to a recruit. Quick redemp-
tion on the basketball court
will be hard to come by for ei-
ther. Though Pitino has some
elite talent due to arrive in
Louisville next season, both
the Cardinals and Huskies will
continue to struggle this year.

7. DO YOU HAVE TRUTV?
WOULD YOU KNOW IF YOU DID?
Typically, truTV attracts roughly

19 viewers with its “actuality” pro-
gramming (as opposed to reality
programming—no,wedon'tunderstand
the difference either). That will change
come March. As part of the МСАА5 new
TV deal, first- and second-round tourna-

7
>»

ment games
will һе саг-
ried by the
three Turner
Broadcasting
outlets—cable
stalwarts TNT
and TBS and
the nearly in-
visible truTV. 2-4. €.
So start look- = BENSON
ing for it now.

6. WHY WILL WE TALK ABOUT MIKE
KRZYZEWSKI NOW? Will it be be-
cause his Blue Devils repeat as national
champions? Or will it be because he has
broken Bobby Knight's
Division I record for ca-
reer wins? Actually the
two conversations are
related. If Duke makes a
deep run in the ACC and NCAA tourna-
ments, Coach K could conceivably top
Knight's 902 coaching victories.

5. HOW MANY TIMES WILL YOU HEAR
“WHO IS THE NEXT BUTLER?” The
Bulldogs, a hitherto nondescript Horizon
League school from Indiana with fewer
than 4,000 undergraduates, surprised ev-
eryone by coming within a single basket
of beating Duke in last year’s national title
game. Their unlikely run will inspire non-
stop chatter about which underdog
team can repeat the accomplish-
ment in March 2011. But therein
lies the rub: Once-in-a-lifetime
tournament runs are exactly
that—once ina lifetime. That said,
San Diego State is capable of
*=/ causing some tournament
trouble—or fun, depending

on your perspective.

4. WILL THE NUMBER 68
| EVER EASILY ROLL OFF
THE TONGUE? Of course not!
Nevertheless, the NCAA de-
cided to expand the tourna-
ment field this season to

68 teams, up from 65. Now
there will be a total of four
“play-in” games that look

DOG DU JOUR

Butler's success

in 2010 will

inspire endless

guessing about

which underdog

can do the same
this season.

NEVER ВЕТ AGAINST ТОМ 1270
AND MICHIGAN STATE WHEN
MARCH ROLLS AROUND.

DEMETRI
- МССАМЕҮ

M Р
5

bracket. Two will

while the other two

conference teams ۱

32

tournament last year

job offers and feelers from campuses with actual

good for Few. He has built a legitimate basketball

Harris, a star in the making, the Bulldogs should once

few seasons, 12205 Michigan State Spartans һауе

exist—they have no drop-off of any

12 tournament record and six Final

1. WHO WILL WIN IT ALL? The Boilermakers from

tion. And 2011 is the year the trio will finally stay
E’TWAUN

parted John

propel them

so Strange on your
pit 16 seeds against
each other, as in the
past few seasons,
will feature the last
four bubble teams. “ 9.
For example, major- > (LUINDIS

“
such as Illinois апа
Virginia Tech that
barely missed the
will now compete to make the field as 11 or 12 seeds.
3. IS IT SAFE TO CALL GONZAGA A DYNASTY?
For years Gonzaga head coach Mark Few has fielded
airports—e.g., Oregon, Indiana and Arizona. Yet for
reasons that remain murky (is he wanted by the
FBI?) he has chosen to remain in Spokane. We say
dynasty along the Washington-Idaho border. The
quantitative evidence: Gonzaga is 291-73 since Few
arrived in 1999. And thanks to six-foot-seven Elias
again reside among the country’s top teams in 2011.
2. CAN ТОМ IZZO'S GENIUS BE EXPLAINED?
Not really. But here’s our best shot: During the past
done about as well, per possession, on the road as at
home. So when the Spartans play in the tournament—
where, in theory, home games don't
kind (unlike just about every other
team). It's at least a plausible ex-
planation for Izzo's incredible 35-
Four appearances since 1998. Whatever the reason,
never bet against 1220 and his Spartans in March, no
matter what the oddsmakers say.
Purdue. The team's nucleus—Robbie Hummel,
E'Twaun Moore and JaJuan Johnson—have seem-
ingly played together since the Truman administra-
injury free, perhaps blessed with good health from
above by the
recently de-
Wooden, a
Purdue alum,
which should
to Ше na-
tional cham-
pionship.

THE PLAYBOY 2010-2011

PRESEASON

AMERICA TEAN,

х Ж Ж х Ж Ж

ALEC BURKS—Colorado, Sophomore, 6'6", 185
pounds. Last season Burks became the first Colorado
freshman to surpass 500 points іп a single season. Over-
all he was fourth nationally among freshmen in points
per game (17.1) and field-goal percentage (53.8).
WILLIAM BUFORD—Ohio State, Junior, 6'5", 205
pounds. The 2009 Big Ten Freshman of the Year,
Buford is the Buckeyes’ top returning scorer, with 14.4
points per game.

全
(ery

| № А à

* наятум уаизи +

KEMBA WALKER—Connecticut, Junior, 6'1", 172
pounds. Walker averaged 14.6 points per game in
2010 and led the Huskies in scoring in eight of their
final nine games.

KYRIE IRVING—Duke, Freshman, 6'2", 175 pounds.
Mike Krzyzewski is so optimistic about Irving’s future
that he is allowing the New Jersey teenager to become
the first Duke player during his coaching tenure to wear

g à > the number 1.

*** F
HARRISON ВАВМЕ5--Могіһ Carolina, Freshman,

6'8", 210 pounds. A co-MVP (with Irving) at the 2010 :

Jordan Brand Classic, Barnes is also the reigning Mor-
gan Wooten Player of the Year—which officially makes
the Iowa native the nation's top high school player.

KYLE SINGLER—Duke, Senior, 6'8", 230 pounds. A | ;

highly skilled offensive player with the ability to score in-

side or on the perimeter, Singler was an integral compo- =z:

nent in Duke's drive to the 2010 national championship.

ж Ж У

ж SHNOf AUU3d ж

PERRY JONES—Baylor, Freshman,

611", 235 pounds. Jones's combination of size, skill
and athleticism will make him a star at the college level
and eventually ticket him for the NBA.

MARCUS MORRIS—Kansas, Junior, 6'9", 235
pounds. The Jayhawks’ top returning scorer and
rebounder from last season, Morris averaged 12.8
points and 6.1 boards per game.

E

Ж Ж Ж * Ж Ж

KEITH BENSON—Oakland, Senior, 6'11", 230 pounds. Тһе Mid-Major
and Summit League Player of the Year, Benson holds Oakland records for
blocks in a single season (116) and career (243).

AARIC MURRAY—La Salle, Sophomore, 6'10", 250 pounds. Another
big-time shot blocker, Murray led the Explorers with 70 rejections last
season. His defensive domination, along with

his consistent

offensive output (12.2 points

per game), helped earn him Philadelphia Big 5 7
Rookie of the Year honors.

Ж Ж

MIKE KRZYZEWSKI—Duke. Always а deserv-
ing choice—if also an obvious one. Coach K's
accomplishments speak for themselves: four
national championships, 11 Final Four appearances,
two gold medals and 40 NBA draft selections.

AR * ж

Ж MIKE KRZYZEWSKI 4

ж

ж ALEC BURKS

Ж HARRISON BARNES 4

100 F 47 В | AHDE

PLAYBOY FILM RVP

46

e усыл ea Se ton eae ose ы SQ E че

MIEN BLACK

u oe bared 6 &

“

FASHION BY JENNIFER RYAN JONES
STILL LIFE PHOTOGRAPHY BY ZACHARY JAMES JOHNSTON
TEXT BY STEVE GARBARINO

It looks simple, doesn’t it? Black jacket and trousers, white collared shirt and bow tie, right? Not so
fast. Dating back to 1860s-era Henry Poole & Co., the tux remains the definition of black-tie dressing
and should be an essential part of a man’s wardrobe, even if worn only once a year. But so many men
get it wrong. When donned correctly, it should make its wearer look less like a penguin or prom king
than a man about town—elegant, understated, as effortless as a pair of pajamas. Rather than going
“creative black tie” this season, as Hollywood's worst dressers often do, we recommend you abide by
this guide to classic formalwear. Recall Robert Redford and Cary Grant, and you can’t go wrong.

In Quantum of Solace, Daniel Craig broke
from the James Bond franchise’s tradition of
Brioni suits. Tom Ford tiptoed in, providing
the big-shouldered actor with a slimming
tuxedo for all that lady-killing.

vM

уд JOSEPH ABBOUD MADE TO MEASURE.
J. CREW.
JAN LESLIE.
THOMAS PINK.

The man who was Gatsby has always looked dapper, whether wearing formal Ralph
Lauren or Nino Cerruti. Class (not to mention endless talent) is what makes Redford
stand out, and his tux selections over the years have personified just that.

B | AHDE

j
i

4 BILLY REID. BOTTEGA VENETA.
THOMAS PINK. BOTTEGA VENETA.

PUNTO BY THE BRITISH
APPAREL COLLECTION.

en
THOMAS PINK.
CARROT &
GIBBS.
THOMAS PINK.

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2 IWC
m IO SCHAFFHAUSEN

N

BAADE Il.

Along with bow ties, cuff links
are one of the few tuxedo acces-
sories that can, and should, be
used to express your individual
style. Oval or square, onyx or
mother-of-pearl, monograms or
dollar signs—let ет shine.

in MEL GAMBERT CUSTOM-BESPOKE. Мс.
de CARROT & GIBBS. са ES
ТҮШ. DONALD J PLINER. BOTTEGA VENETA.

JOHNSTON & MURPHY.

The dashing leading man exhibits how a tuxedo shouldn't be
stiff. The middle shot is from The Grass Is Greener (1960); the
other two are from The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer (1947).

From bow ties to court shoes, lessons in classic style

124

with one hand while grasping the wrist
he has extended behind him with the
other. His expression dares her pursu-
ers to make a wrong move. Typically,
however, Cohen relies more on cunning
than muscle. Why expose a woman
whose waiflike visage has graced 300
magazine covers to physical harm when
a few well-chosen Hebrew words will
part the waters?

“Tazeez otam achorah,” Cohen says in
a voice loud enough to carry above the
din. The paparazzi fall back.

“Tazeez otam achorah,” he repeats,
and they fall back again.

Soon enough a passageway opens
through the crowd, offering a glimpse of
the promised land: a black 750 BMW that
has materialized at the curb. It seems like
a miracle, yet there’s nothing miraculous
about it. Two of the paparazzi besieging
Moss are not paparazzi at all. Although
outfitted with lights and cameras, they
are IMS operatives and, like their boss,
ex-commandos from Sayeret Duvdevan,
an Israeli military unit that specializes in
extracting terrorists from the occupied
territories (in fact, IMS stands for Israeli
Military Specialists). They know that
Tazeez otam achorah means “Move them
backward,” and each time Cohen utters
the words they elbow the Nikon-wielding

е q
“MAKE NO MISTAKE,

AARON IS TOUGH,
BUT HIS REAL WEAPON

IS HIS MIND.

THE WHEELS ARE ALWAYS TURNING.”

wolves toward the street. The
theory is that the paparazzi,
like members of any pack, are
not so much creatures of free
will as easily manipulated ani-
mals. Get one to retreat and
the rest will follow.

“Tazeez otam achorah,”
Cohen says a final time, and
suddenly he and Moss are in the
BMW. At the wheel sits another
IMS agent. “Thank you. Thank
God,” the model says as they pull
away. Not that she is home free, as
several of the paparazzi give chase
in their vehicles. But Cohen, who
works frequently with Moss, has an
edge here as well. No sooner does their
BMW enter traffic than a trail car driven
by an operative falls in behind, keeping
the paparazzi at bay on the ride to the
Chateau Marmont on the Sunset Strip. All
told, the task of delivering the model—in
town to appear in an ad campaign—
safely to her hotel takes four hours and
requires six men. The cost: $7,000. “One
of these nights the paparazzi are inad-
vertently going to get someone killed,”
Cohen remarks afterward, “but it’s not
going to be one of my clients. The entire
time | was thinking, Is this really what our
culture has come to?”

IMS exists because the world
is more dangerous than ever
and Aaron Cohen knows it.
Now is a time when busi-
ness disputes often end

in death threats, trips
abroad inspire fear of
abduction and even

B-list celebrities attract
stalkers. With just 25
operatives (six full-time,

19 on call), Cohen’s Los
Angeles-based firm is
certainly not the biggest

in the business. Yet in
composition (80 percent

of his men are former Israeli
special forces fighters) and
areas of expertise (from close
protection to counterterrorist

<

train-
ing) IMS
offers every- WP,
thing. As Cohen is

fond of saying, "Walk softly and carry a
small Israeli team."

In the nine years since he founded his
company, Cohen has worked for a wide
range of clients. Entertainment man-
ager Steve Katz first hired him in 2001
to protect Jackie Chan at the premiere
of Rush Hour 2. The action-adventure
star was being stalked by an obsessed
woman, and Cohen served as his body-
guard. Since then Katz has frequently
engaged Cohen's firm. "A typical Holly-
wood security guy is a hulking person
there to intimidate people," says Katz.
"Make no mistake, Aaron is tough, but
his real weapon is his mind. He's an
extremely sharp tactician. The wheels
are always turning."

Lisa Kline, proprietor of the hip Los
Angeles fashion boutique of the same
name, employs Cohen whenever such
customers as Eva Longoria Parker, Brit-
ney Spears or Kate Beckinsale want to
shop in private. “Не makes sure no one
gets near them,” she says. “He helps
them to and from their cars. He's profes-
sional, but he's intense. He treats every
job like a mission—no funny business."
Not that there aren't light moments.
When the paparazzi appear, as they
inevitably do, IMS operatives posted
around the Robertson Boulevard store
open umbrellas in a synchronized tac-
tic that blocks all sight lines. No one
gets a picture.

Far from Hollywood, the sheriff of
Houston County, Alabama also relies on
Cohen. Andy Hughes has flown him in on
multiple occasions to train his deputies.
"He is an active instructor," says Hughes.
“Не doesn't tell you how to do things,
he shows you—shooting in crowds, res-
cuing hostages. lm the coordinator of
homeland security for my region of Ala-
bama, and if something happens, we will
be the first (continued on page 171)

Se
SSE

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DU 7),
TAT

OMT
ЯУ

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БУНЫ
LA

“It’s the most thoughtful Christmas present Tue ever received!”
125

Holiday

|

А CLEAR SPACE UNDER THE TREE.
SN DADDY NEEDS A NEW PAIR OF
А SHOES—AND А WATCH AND

A CAR AND...

сен

PHOTOGRAPHY BY RICHARD IZUI

Br A

# N
ж-
іш XX And you thought PVC pipes
| were good only for ШЕ
bs 4 Nope—they can also bring the
5 noise. Ikyaudio sculpts the plastic
cylinders into speakers ($199,

ikyaudio.com) that will gener-

A

Go back in time with the reissue of
Bulova's Accutron Spaceview 214 watch

($4,000, bulova.com)—the most ре — g u,
cise timepiece available when it debuted / q
in 1960. Its original tooling had been í; ho

discarded, so Bulova started from Á
scratch, assembling each new Spaceview

by hand. (As such, only 1,000 have 4 қ
been built.) The watch's unique feature is А %, т e
a tuning fork—it hums rather than ticks— — on, "н
that you can observe up close, thanks to s
the transparent display.

Cash should never float about
your pocket untethered.

Keep your scratch together

in stately fashion with Ralph
Lauren's sterling money ЗЫ
($250, ralphlauren.com).
For a bit more than pocket
change ($15), personalize
the front with a monogram.

A

“Nice flask,” she says. “Thank you,” you
answer. “#5 a leather triple-decanter flask
from Aspinal of London |9225, aspinal
oflondon.com].” She asks, “Do you
always bring a stocked bar on a ski lift?”
“Yes, in case | meet a ski bunny such as
yourself. Brandy, scotch or bourbon?”

< The furniture in your home should be as
elegant as the women you want sitting
on it. Case in point: the statuesque mid-
century-modern Barcelona chair (from
$4,523, knoll.com), designed by Mies
- оһе іп 1929 апа АА іпа
ety о leathers.

< An intellectual raid |
on the junkyard,
the Rustic Warriors &
set ($265, novica '
.com) replaces
staid king, queen
and bishop
game pieces with
ACDelco spark
plugs and other
assorted auto parts
(e.g., heavy bolts Nothing will swaddle you in sound quite like Skull-
and sprockets). candy and Roc Nation’s Aviator headphones ($150,
skullcandy.com). They keep your earlobes in plus
comfort—who doesn’t love memory-foam pillows? —
and keep your eardrums processing pristine beats.

You're а man who courts
danger while wearing a
suit and holding a rocks
glass. Shoot from the hip
with these sterling silver
revolver cuff links from
John Varvatos ($330, —
johnvarvatos.com). The
cylinders really spin.
Locked and loaded?
Indeed you are.

What? We can’t hear you
over the sound of MGMT
blaring out of Tivoli Audio's
iPal (5220, tivoliaudio

.com). #5 weatherproof,
no bigger than a shoe b
hooks to an iPod and plays

A тес әсе»

Tesla's gorgeous Roadster 2.5 electric supercar car is shifting. The experience is, well, electrify-

($109,000, teslamotors.com) is a monument to ing. Think 3.7 seconds to 60 mph, 245 miles per
new-age motoring. The first thing that strikes you is charge and zero tailpipe emissions. And all with
the torque—you feel like a bullet leaving the bar- the top down and the wind in your hair. Plug it in

rel of a gun. The second thing: There are no gears. at night as if it were a rechargeable flashlight, and
You never experience that chug-chug when the off you go in the morning.

You were blessed with that handsome You could hang 10 with one of

mug, So treat it with respect with Baxter surfing legend Bill Hamilton’s

of California’s blue badger-hair shave aboriginal art surfboards ($5,000,
brush ($90, baxterofcalifornia.com), billhamiltonsurfboards.com)—or any
chrome-plated traditional safety razor of his other custom goods, for that
($60) and nickel-plated stand ($30). matter. But we vote for hanging this

six-foot-four foam board from your
wall like a piece of art.

Callaway has launched an R&D partnership
with Lamborghini to develop a super-light-
weight material. The company’s latest driver,
the Diablo Octane ($299, callawaygolf.com),
features a Forged Composite crown. It hits
stores the same week as this issue of PLAYBOY.

Do drunken battle with the
stainless steel shot glass
($70, madebyammo.com), a
convivial cousin of the shotgun
shell. To stick with the theme,
fill it with Death's Door vodka
($30, deathsdoorspirits.com)
and pull the trigger.

Retro sensibilities
make nice with high-
tech capabilities in
the Numark TTi USB
turntable ($449,
numark.com). The
iPod dock makes it
easy to transfer your
favorite records to
an MP3 player—
proving vinyl is far
from dead.

= ады, Talk about throwing >
— C— around the old pigskin.

>. Қы” 2 Тһе Leatherhead hand-
made football ($138, я -
nn > ға
: reformschoolrules.com) ESL _ ть р
a ` + un... recalls the era of Jim 4 “иу Y Y " s )
/ | Thorpe and his fellow
) : gridiron pioneers. BATE.

\/ Industrial designer Adrian Van Anz has created the diamond-encrusted
Sean John iPod and vodka-cooled computers. We love his handmade Der-
ringer cycles (about $3,500, derringercycles.com). Modeled after 1920s
racing motorcycles, the Derringer is “the missing link between my Schwinn
Sony's NEX-VG10 camcorder and my Ducati,” as he puts it. Peddle it or let the Honda engine do the work.
($2,000, sonystyle.com) will inspire Ss
your inner Quentin Tarantino. Its N Т
footage will fill your HDTV perfectly,
and its interchangeable lens system |
allows for a cinematic depth usually
reserved for professional auteurs.

When capturing timeless beauty, memories or even
romance, why not shoot with a classic camera built
anew for a timeless style of photography? We adore
the analog Leica M7 ($6,590, leica-camera.com)—
old-school chassis and film, fully modern guts. Click.

A

4
=|

Always eating on the go? Try — La Palina's Alison

the Eva Solo table grill ($340, cigars ($220, lapalina
evasolo.com), which boasts a cigars.com) meet
clean design and compact, light- Dunhill “aquarium”
weight construction—giving you lighters from the 19505
the power to transform any outing ($4,200, mantiques

into an impromptu barbecue. modern.com).

«A cabın

Er
Ju

EZ

е have always been а

nation of transients,

especially the males.

Earlier in our history

we were intensely pred-

atory transients, but
now our movement is based on the
need for livelihood or from divorce,
irascible restlessness, sheer curios-
ity or emotional hunger. I have
noted that modern man at the
crossroads tries to go in four direc-
tions at once. Put simply, if things
aren’t working out, why not move?
Surely there is a perfect place for
me, or you, or not.

Perhaps the biggest geographi-
cal problem in my life was success.
I had no reason to expect it and I
certainly wasn’t ready for it. The
French writer Albert Camus talked
about terrible freedom, and that’s what
I experienced. An animal in a cage
on its release is unsure whether it
wants to leave the cage. I think I
was about 40 when I wrote a book
of novellas called Legends of the Fall.
All three of the novellas were imme-
diately optioned by studios and two
were made into movies. The sud-
den money was a near disaster.
After almost two decades of aver-
aging 10 grand a year I was way
up there beyond using U-Haul
trailers to move, living in low-cost
rental houses and eating altogether
too much macaroni and cheese
made with budget cheddar, which
I washed down with cheap wine.

Everyone has read about lot-
tery winners and the ubiquitously
disastrous results. I came peril-
ously close to that arena owing to a
festering affection for the mixture
of booze and cocaine. It took me
a number of years to fully under-
stand what gradually saved me.
Meanwhile the combinations: of
booze and coke were not turning
out to be a miracle drug.

My salvation was a fairly remote
cabin in Michigan’s Upper Penin-
sula set in a clearing on 50 acres
bisected by a small river. When
I impulsively bought it with an
option from Ray Stark’s Columbia
Pictures, I didn’t even go inside for
a look. Outside was good enough.
The cabin was to be my retreat
from the modern world for more
than 20 years. The thousands of
square miles of remote country
surrounding the cabin were nearly

S imately

are our

totally empty of people but chock
full of solace. I could fish for trout,
an obsession since the age of seven,
hunt for grouse and woodcock and
take my bird dogs for walks twice
a day, early morning and evening.
I easily made the thoroughly false
assumption that the cabin regen-
erated me for my countless trips
to Los Angeles and New York as a
mediocre screenwriter in addition
to work as a poet and novelist. I
can be a slow study and it took me
some time before I realized that the
cabin prepared me for more of the
cabin, and if anything my longing
for it further crippled an already
fatigued soul for the world of film-
making, which is a collaborative
craft, while I was built to fly solo as
a poet and novelist.

Things went fairly well for a
decade until the screenplay for
Wolf starring Jack Nicholson and
Michelle Pfeiffer broke my spirit.
I put too much of myself into the
movie and І didn’t care for the
resulting production one little bit.
I quit the business, and it slowly
became apparent to me that it’s
not easy to give up two thirds of
your income. We muddled along
on the edge for several years and
were finally saved financially by
my growing popularity in France.
My American publisher Grove/
Atlantic could afford to pay me
far more than my value domes-
tically because the French rights
went high. This brought peace to
our private valley until we moved
to Montana, where we had been
going for vacation and brown trout
fishing every year since 1968.

After a few years in Montana, I
had to sell the cabin during a time
of the usual money problems. This
caused a great deal of the pain and
melancholy known as homesickness
even though the sale was sensible.
One summer and fall when I vis-
ited the cabin three times for a total
of three weeks, I spent a total of
18 days in the car on round-trips.
After the cabin was lost, I would lis-
ten to Cesaria Evora sing “Sodade,”
the meaning of which is the char-
acter of longing and despair when
a person or place is forever lost to
us. Га wander around with a seem-
ingly permanent lump in my throat,
quite unable to balance the pleasure
of seeing (concluded on page 164)

only true home and their

lt um MR 24 ЖЕ (о зА y good plac ace to а.

HOLIDAY: ANNIVERSARY ISSUE

PLAYBOY

Wsparkuns | 74 ГНЕ
PLAYBOY GIRLS OF
INTERVIEW lp “Ey "AD
) ROCK 'N' ROLL
j
= YOU WON'T SEE

^ GOLDIE HAWN’ | THIS ON MTV

NEW YEAR
KNOCKOUTS
JAMES BALDWIN
RAY BRADBURY

MILLIAM F 3
BUCKESS. JR.
БОВЕНТЮИООҮЕН
MARODUEREWS
FARES KING
ЕГМОЩЕКЕОМАКО
ҮММОНН15

PLUS: >
PLAYE
AN INSIDER'S

co AND
MUCH, MUC 18.

1. JANE FONDA

2. BARBARA BACH

3. MADONNA

4. KATHY SHOWER

5. FAST TIMES AT RIDGEMONT
HIGH

6. ЕГ.

7. RONALD REAGAN

8. TERRI WELLES

9. ERIKA ELENIAK

10. GOLDIE HAWN

11. PRINCE

12. VANNA WHITE

13. FLASHDANCE

14. SUZANNE SOMERS

15. MAUD ADAMS

16. DONNA EDMONDSON

«3

А PLAYBOY 3
BAD BLOOD: " yy
SPECIAL REPORT MURDER IN AN
AMERICAN

ES FAMILY
IT'S HOTTER
THAN YOU THINK...
IT'S HOTTER
THAN WE THOUGHT! P “

»

ROBIN on
WILLIAMS

INSIDE THE

SEMINARY: A

RIVETING MEMOIR y
OF CELIBACY,

SEXUALITY

AND MANHOOD

у , М ч
» о, Щи

DAN JENKINS’ SEMI-HILARIOUS NEW NOVEL

PLAYBOY

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PAPERS OF. ж CHRISTIE
HOWARD е BRINKLEY
HUGHES ( DRESSES
| ОР

DAZZLING
& DIRTY
PLAYBOY'S
SEX IN
CINEMA

INTERVIEW
PRESIDENT

JOSE
NAPOLEON
DUARTE
OF EL
SALVADOR

36. BARBARA CARRERA

37. CHRISTIE BRINKLEY

38. CINDY CRAWFORD

39. THE MEN WHO WOULD BE
PRESIDENT

40. SHANNON TWEED

41. MAXINE LEGROOM/
SANDY GREENBERG

42. MAX HEADROOM

43. PATRICIA FARINELLI

44. AIDS

45. JULIE MCCULLOUGH

46. WALL STREET

THE

MEN 47. MAD MAX
WHO WOULD BE 48. DIRTY DANCING
PRESIDENT 49. KIMBERLY MCARTHUR

By Robe:

50. LA TOYA JACKSON

51. TAMMY FAYE AND JIM
BAKKER

52. VANESSA WILLIAMS

53. DONNA RICE AND GARY HART

54. JESSICA HAHN

55. MARIANNE GRAVATTE

56. BRANDI BRANDT

The first case of acquired
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WHEN YOU LOOK THERES
NO MAN THERE. GET IT?

YOU HEAR A VOICE, BUT ^
“SNOWMAN” THERE? HA!

“CLEVELAND, CITY OF LIGHT, CITY OF MAGIC,
CLEVELAND, CITY OF LIGHT, YOW RE CALLING ME.
CLEVELAND, EVEN Now i САМ REMEMBER,
BECAUSE THE CUYAHOGA RIVER

GOES SMOKING THROUGH MY DREAMS.”
—RANDY NEWMAN, “BURN ON”

BY JOE ESZTERHAS

LIFE WILL CRUSH YOU IF YOU'RE NOT CAREFUL. THAT'S
WHY YOU HAVE TO BE TOUGH TO LIVE IN CLEVELAND

0 LEBRON FINALLY MADE
HIS DECISION, AND CLEVE-

land, the city I love, got dumped on publicly
again. LeBron followed in the footsteps of his jock
brethren Joakim Noah, Braylon Edwards and
Charles Barkley. It was the same old bullshit mantra: Cleve-
land is a dump. Cleveland is ugly and dangerous. Cleveland
142 is a city full of fat, kielbasa-eating losers.

And if all that weren't enough, consider that Forbes
magazine—eyebrows arched, nose held aloft in timeless
patrician manner—recently described Cleveland, my
working-class hometown, as the most miserable place to
live in America.

I live in Cleveland. I love living in Cleveland. I love living
in Cleveland so much that I moved back here after living for
30 years in places like Marin County, Maui and Malibu. So,
speaking as a Clevelander, I want to get this out of the way,

ILLUSTRATION BY C.F. PAYNE

144

right off the top. Fuck Forbes magazine! Fuck Steve Forbes,
that twit! Fuck all the other snooty, twitty Forbeses who have
anything to do with the Forbes family or their supercilious
rag! And yes, fuck LeBron, too, mama’s boy. Good riddance
to you—and Delonte West, too, that motherfucker!

We knew what LeBron really thought of us when he wore
his Yankees cap to that Indians playoff game. Who but a roar-
ing, self-absorbed asshole calls himself King James and has his
back tattooed CHOSEN 1 in gigantic letters? Truth to tell, LeBron
was never a Clevelander—he’s a wimpy, spoiled kid not unlike
Steve Forbes. He never belonged here. He belongs on the
beach, not in a back alley. And who in the hell is LeBron to
say he loves us after he leaves us? (No wonder he and Delonte
West, the motherfucker, were once asshole buddies.)

So LeBron James, like Art Modell, former owner of the
Cleveland Browns, is history as far as my Cleveland is con-
cerned, and they’re selling T-shirts downtown that say MODELL
STILL SUCKS, BUT LEBRON SWALLOWS.

ғ

Неге is even more satanic stuff: All the East Coast’s power
got blown out one day thanks to a malfunction at a Cleve-
land power plant. Our foreclosure rate is among the highest
in the country. Our town’s biggest property owner is a Ger-
man bank. It’s so cold and gloomy and dank for much of
the year that freaky dudes surf in Lake Erie in the winter
as a snarky protest. Dennis Kucinich, our former mayor, my
former copyboy at the Cleveland Plain Dealer—who wrote
knockout beat poetry, which he read aloud to us in the city
room back in the day—still wants to be president of the
United States after being arguably the worst mayor in Cleve-
land’s history. Dennis’s wife, Elizabeth, definitely Playmate
material, wants to be first lady even though she towers over
Dennis worse than Katie towers over Tom Cruise and Nicole
towers over Keith Urban.

Consider the things that have befallen some of the Cleve-
land Indians we’ve loved: Joe Charboneau, rookie of the year,
who opened beer bottles with his teeth and then sometimes

During the days of Cleveland’s industrial glory, oil in the Cuyahoga River would catch fire (as it did,
above, in 1952). While this would seem unusual to an outsider, it was routine for Clevelanders.

Never mind all that. I will go to my grave—as will most
Clevelanders—in the belief that our town is still, as we’ve
always said, the best location in our whole debt-ridden, unem-
ployed, foreclosed nation.

Clevelanders have learned we’ve gotta hang tough in the
face of all the insulting bullshit that keeps being tossed at us
over and over again. Who in the hell is Forbes magazine to tell
us that the town we love is a miserable place to live? That our
potholes are the size of lakes? That our teams stink? That our
politicians are crooks? That our strip malls are haunted houses
and our major malls ghost towns? Why single out our town
when that portrayal could define America itself in 2012?

It takes a lot of balls to accuse us of all that, especially when
we are the City of Big Balls (male and female) and have mad-
doggedly been fending off scurrilous attacks from the time I
was a kid growing up here. “Mistake on the Lake” is what they
used to call us. We’ve been the pimpled butt of decades-long,
generations-long Cleveland jokes, cousins to the supercilious
Polack jokes told by our prissy WASP brethren.

There is no denying that fiendish, devilish things have
befallen us: Yes, yes, we know—the Cuyahoga River caught
on fire and so did former mayor Ralph Perk’s hair. Another
former mayor, Carl Stokes, was arrested for shoplifting.
Indians fans rioted at Municipal Stadium, and Browns fans
rioted at Browns Stadium. Rocky Colavito, Indians folk
hero, got traded, and Indians folk hero Jim Thome loved
us and left us too.

drank the beer through his nose, and whose whole career
was over a year later thanks to a bad back. Tony Horton,
slugger, who had a nervous breakdown and crawled from
the plate to the dugout after popping out to the catcher. Bill
Veeck, legendary team owner, war hero and chain-smoker,
who carved himself an ashtray right into his wooden leg
so he wouldn’t have to carry one around. Gaylord Perry,
pitcher, whose spitball made him one of the greatest crooks
in baseball, right alongside home-run champion Albert Belle,
whose bats were corked. Ray Chapman, infielder, the only
man killed on the field in the history of major league base-
ball (in a game against the Yankees). Herb Score, dazzling
southpaw, whose career was ruined by a line drive to the
eye (off the bat of another Yankee).

And then we have some of the maladies suffered by our
beloved Brownies: Jim Brown, greatest running back in the
history of the game, retired in his prime because of a salary
dispute with Benedict Arnold. Paul Brown, the greatest coach
in NFL history, fired by the same Benedict Arnold before he
kidnapped the whole team to Baltimore. Bernie Kosar, maybe
the greatest local hero in the history of the team, the com-
plete Clevelander, a street kid from Youngstown (the place
Bruce Springsteen made famous), a quarterback with back-
alley smarts and balls of brass, cut by Benedict Arnold at the
instigation of his Rasputin, coach Bill Belichick, the same
Bill Belichick who transformed into Touchdown Jesus with
the New England Patriots. Rasputin (continued on page 169)

. ; E " =
“Do you give discounts to men in uniform?

146

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and rapturous gift to humankind, if you
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PHOTOGRAPHY BY STEPHEN WAYDA

aberrant ones who will say anything and,
in so doing, say everything you will likely
ever need to know.

Take this one in particular: She, after
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ricocheting off the stately walls of Playboy
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that way—discovered naked in body paint,
no less—with nothing to hide and nowhere
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own carefree, sun-splashed, locker-room-
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herself, because she knows exactly what
she means—more or less. (“My definition
of beauty is confidence,” she has said, thus
77 saying everything—and quite
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Indeed, behold this ran-

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| truth bombs launched from

| the Kendra lips over these

past handful of spotlit years: “Whenever
I feel nervous, I feel like I have to poop.”
“T don’t want responsibilities right now!
I’m 20 years old! ГП have responsibilities
when I’m...27!” “God, I love my legs and
my ass!” “Can he go look in my drawer?
He'll see my vibrator, but....” “There's
nothing better than a bunch of balls
hanging down from your door!” “Olive
Garden is the shit! It’s the best Italian
food ever!” “The French love...tits!” “I’ve
thrown up in almost every limo that has
taken me out in the last week. God, they
hate me right now!” “I have to party! I
deserve it! I’ve worked hard!” “The best
thing about this pimp cup is that it was
given to me by a pimp—there’s nothing
better than that.” “Whatever I put on is
gonna be hot—you know, I could wear
two Band-Aids and a cork....” And so
on—blessedly, for the most part.

Most always, these fine pronounce-
ments come appended with that laugh
of hers—you know, that aaahhhhhh-
ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha thing she does.
Unmistakably, this is the Kendra Laugh,
a warm and strangely infectious stac-
cato, throaty and all self-effacing, with
no trace of cynicism or snark. It was, of
course, made famous during her cele-
brated premarital residency as the most
irrepressible one third of Hef’s original
Girls Next Door love triumvirate. (“I was
fascinated with her,” Big Daddy has con-
fessed, using understatement to perhaps
balance the giddy overstatement that
is her; as a result, however, there was
barely any wild whim she presented that
he didn't patiently indulge.) Anyway, her
Laugh rollicked dependably across five
TV seasons of Mansion mayhem before
spinning off last year into uncharted
domesticity—welcome to E!’s Kendra, the
madcap hurdles leapt by a peripatetic
young NFL wife (of the oft-relocated
Hank Baskett, now a Minnesota Viking),
new mother (of little-big Hank IV) and
sudden New York Times bestselling mem-
oirist (of Sliding Into Home)—wherein
the ahhh-ha-ha-has rarely cease. Like
the best natural-born comediennes, she
has never quite understood why she is
funny—which is precisely the reason she
has become this happy comic spectacle in
motion, nowadays flailing at the foreign
rigors of real life. For instance: “The first
time I mailed something on my own, like
a couple of months ago, I didn’t put a
stamp on it. My mom was like, ‘Are you
serious?’ I’m like, ‘Dude, I’ve never been
on my own before.” Or this cozy mater-
nal Tweet: “Up all night with the lil man
again but I enjoy every min of it. He
almost peed in my face today.”

And so new Blurts keep erupting while
the old ones never lose currency. Like
"You'd think I would change dra-mastically.
Dramatically. Shit.” Anyway, nobody's hop-
ing for change anywhere around here.
Or around her. Go, Blurt Goddess.

m >

a
i Vs

no room. _
10е or ==

PLAYBOY

154

Maril yn
(continued from page 73)

taken of Monroe in 1955 shows her read-
ing Michael Chekhov’s 70 the Actor with
schoolgirl avidity.

Monroe’s emotional state was always
charged, often perilous yet, through an
immersion in work, and in the craft of
the stage, which is a shared community,
she understood that she could—maybe—
help herself. What Monroe most feared
was lapsing into the sort of chronic inca-
pacity for life to which her mother as well
as her mother’s mother seemed to have
succumbed—a family curse that obsessed
the actress throughout her life.

In a surreal dream of being anesthe-
tized and operated upon by both Lee
Strasberg and her New York analyst Mar-
garet Hohenberg, of which she writes in
April 1955, Monroe discovers that there
is “nothing” inside her:

Strasberg is deeply disappointed
but more even—academically
amazed that he had made such a
mistake. He thought there was going
to be so much—more than he had
ever dreamed possible in almost any-
one but instead there was absolutely
nothing—devoid of every human Пу-
ing feeling thing—the only thing that
came out was so finely cut sawdust—
like out of a raggedy ann doll.... Dr.
H is puzzled because suddenly she
realizes that this is a new type case....
The patient (pupil...) existing of
complete emptiness....

In February 1961, when the sup-
port of the Actors Studio as well as an
intense five-times-weekly psychoanaly-
sis seemed to have failed her, Monroe
suffered one of the worst breakdowns of
her life and was involuntarily committed
to the Payne Whitney Clinic. She reflects
with a wry sort of detachment that belies
the hurt, humiliation and rage she must
have felt:

There was no empathy at
Payne-Whitney—it had a very bad
effect—they asked me after putting
me in a “cell” (I mean cement blocks
and all) for very disturbed depressed
patients (except I felt I was in some
kind of prison for a crime I hadn’t
comitted). The inhumanity there I
found archaic. They asked me why
I wasn’t happy there.... I answered:
“Well, Га have to be nuts if I like
it here.”

The sympathetic reader may wish to
read between the lines of Monroe’s expla-
nation of what would seem to have been
hysterical behavior:

I picked up a light-weight chair
and slammed it, and it was hard to
do because I had never broken any-
thing in my life.... It took a lot of
banging to get even a small piece of
glass—so I went over with the glass
concealed in my hand and sat quietly

on the bed waiting for them to come
in. They did, and I said to them “if
you are going to treat me like a nut
ГП act like a nut.” I admit the next
thing is corny but I really did it in
the movie [Don’t Bother to Knock]
except it was with a razor blade. I
indicated if they didn’t let me out
I would harm myself—the furthest
thing from my mind at that moment
since you know Dr. Greenson I’m an
actress and would never intention-
ally mark or mar myself.

The first entry in Fragments consists of
several typed, single-spaced pages dat-
ing from 1943, when Monroe—then
Norma Jeane Baker—was married to a
young merchant marine named James
Dougherty. She had married the son
of neighbors of her foster family in Los
Angeles a little over two weeks after
her 16th birthday, in 1942, to prevent
being shipped back to the Los Angeles
County orphanage, where she would
have been more or less incarcerated
until she was 18. Dougherty seems to
have been unfaithful to her, or so the
young wife imagined; the prose fragment
is startlingly self-aware, as analytical as
the letters of Monroe’s maturity, and as
preoccupied with the ongoing riddle of
her own being:

...the secret midnight meetings
the fugetive glance stolen in others
company the sharing of the ocean,
moon & stars and air aloneness
made it a romantic adventure which
a young, rather shy girl who didnt
always give that impression because
of her desire to belong & develope
can thrive on—I had always felt a
need to live up to that expectation of
my elders having been not in a pre-
cocious manner an unusually mature
child for my age—and at 10, 11, 12,
& 13 when my closer companions
were all persons of 4 to 6 yrs....

For someone like me its wrong to
go through thorough self analisis—I
do it enough in thought generalities
enough.

Its not to much fun to know your-
self to well or think you do—everyone
needs a little conciet to carry them
through & past the falls.

Soon after writing this melancholy let-
ter, the young and quasi-abandoned wife
of James Dougherty began working at
the Radio Plane Company, where—as in
a seemingly benign fairy tale or a B-level
Hollywood romance—she was discovered
by a photographer for Yank magazine;
soon the very photogenic Norma Jeane
became a model for a prominent Hol-
lywood agency and was encouraged
to bleach her brunette hair platinum
blonde with such gratifying results that,
soon afterward, in 1946, she became a
“starlet” at Twentieth Century Fox and
was rechristened with the magical name
“Marilyn Monroe.”

Monroe’s much-publicized second
marriage, to Joe DiMaggio, lasted only
from January 1954 to October 1954.
By this time the “starlet” had become
a “star”—as a consequence of lurid
nationwide advertising for the film Niag-
ara, which was a box-office success like
other “Marilyn Monroe” movies of that
decade: Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, How to
Marry a Millionaire, The Seven Year Itch
and Some Like It Hot, Monroe’s overall
biggest hit.

Written by Arthur Miller, Monroe’s last
completed film, The Misfits (1961), is a
far more subtle and notable achievement
than any of the frothy “dumb blonde”
films that made Monroe famous, but it
received mixed reviews and did poorly
at the box office. Seeing this elegiac film
today, the viewer is struck by how Mari-
lyn Monroe, amid a cast of mostly men,
and women with no pretensions of glam-
our, is eerily, almost morbidly “feminine”
in her absurdly tight-fitting clothes and
painful-looking stiletto heels, a species of
female impersonator. It’s as if the woman
one day to be honored by PLAYBOY as the
“Sexiest Woman of the 20th Century” had
been encased in femininity as in a strait-
jacket that scarcely allowed for breath
and that eventually killed her.

The failure in 1960 of Monroe’s mar-
riage to Arthur Miller seemed to have
precipitated her mental and physical
deterioration in the brief period pre-
ceding her death. Of that era, when
Monroe’s dependency upon prescription
drugs—barbiturates, amphetamines—
increased, and when Monroe entered
into ill-fated relationships with both John
Kennedy and his brother Robert, there
is no record in Fragments, as if Monroe
had ceased writing these therapeutic
messages to herself; nowhere in this mis-
cellany of “texts” are there allusions to
Monroe’s drug addiction, her conver-
sion to Judaism for Arthur Miller, her
disastrous love affairs and the collapse of
her movie career. On August 17, 1962,
a winsomely beautiful Marilyn Monroe
appeared for the last time on the cover
of Life; sometime in the night of August
5, Marilyn Monroe died in the bedroom
of her smallish house in Brentwood, of
an apparent drug overdose.

Like all serious artists, Marilyn Monroe
lived—lives—in her art. Fugitive pieces
like those of Fragments will resonate most
with those who know her extraordinary
films. Here is a female artist for whom
work was salvation, or might have been if
circumstances had been slightly different;
if, for instance, Monroe had remained in
New York at the Actors Studio, preparing
for a stage career, and had not returned
to Hollywood, in 1960, to make The
Misfits. In an interview of 1959, as if in
rueful acknowledgment of her impend-
ing fate, Monroe said, “I guess Iam a
fantasy"—a luminous phantom in the

lives of others.

وو

This year I thought Га save you the trouble of filling the stockings.

ес

PLAYBOY

156

KNOCK-KNOCK

(continued from page 96)
ass walks in and asks for a Michelob and
gets a Mickey Finn and gets fucked by the
crowd until one day she walks in and asks
the bartender can he maybe give her a Bud-
weiser instead?”

Granted—I have NOT landed this par-
ticular shaggy dog story since I was in the
First Grade, but my old man used to love
this next part...

The bartender smiles so nice and says,
“What? You don’t like Michelob no more?”

And this Real Looker, she leans over
the bar, all confidential, and she whispers,
“Just between you and me...” she whispers,
“Michelob makes my pussy hurt....”

The first time I learned that joke, when
my old man taught it to me, I didn’t know
what was “pussy.” I didn’t know “Mickey
Finn.” I didn’t know what folks meant when
they talked about “fucking” but I knew all
this talk made my old man laugh. And when
he told me to stand up and tell that joke
in the barbershop it made the barbers and
every old man reading detective magazines
laugh until half of them blew spit and snot
and chewing tobacco out their noses.

Now the grown-up son tells his old dying
father this joke, just the two of them alone
in that hospital room, late-late at night,

and—guess what—his old man doesn’t
laugh. So the son tries another old favor-
ite, he tells the joke about the Traveling
Salesman who gets a phone call from some
Farmer’s Daughter he met on the road
a couple months before, and she says,
“Remember me? We had some laughs, and
I was a good sport?” And the man says,
“How’re you doing?” And she says, “I’m
pregnant, and I’m going to kill myself.”
And the salesman, he says, “Damn...you
ARE a good sport!”

At seven years old I could REALLY put
that joke over—but tonight—the old man’s
still not laughing. How I learned to say
“I Love You” was by laughing for my old
man—even if I had to fake it—and that’s all
I want in return. All I want from him is a
laugh, just one laugh, and he’s not coming
across with even a giggle. Not a snicker. Not
even a groan. And worse than not laughing,
the old man squints his eyes shut, tight, and
opens them brimming with tears, and one
fat tear floods out the bottom of each eye
and washes down each cheek. The old man’s
gasping his big toothless mouth like he can’t
get enough air, crying big tears down the
wrinkles of both cheeks, just soaking his pil-
low. So this kid—who’s nobody’s little kid,
not anymore—but who all he knows to do
is tell these stupid jokes, he reaches into
his pants pocket and gets out a fake plastic

"You're the only one who's ever asked me what
I want for Christmas.”

carnation flower that just for laughs sprays
water all over the old crybaby's face.

The kid tells about the Polack who's carry-
ing a rifle through the woods when he comes
across a naked gal laying back on a bed of
soft green moss with her legs spread, and
this gal is a Real Looker, and she looks at the
Polack and his gun and says, “What're you
doing?” And the Polack says, “I’m hunting
for game.” And this Real Looker, she gives
him a big wink and she says, “I’m game.”
So—POW!—the Polack shoots her.

It used to be this joke constituted a gold-
plated, bona fide, surefire laugh riot, but
the old man just keeps dying. He’s still boo-
hooing and not even making an effort to
laugh, and no matter what, the old man has
got to meet me halfway. I can’t save him if he
doesn’t want to live. I ask him, “What do you
get when you cross a faggot with a kike?” I
ask him, “What’s the difference between dog
shit and a nigger?”

And he’s still not getting any better. I’m
thinking maybe the cancer’s got into his
ears. With the morphine and what all, it
could be he can’t hear me. So just to test
can he hear me, I lean into his old crybaby
face and I ask, “How do you get a nun preg-
nant?” Then, more loud, maybe too loud
for this being a mackerel-snapper hospital,
I yell, “You FUCK her!”

In my desperation I try fag jokes and
wetback jokes and kike jokes—really, every
effective course of treatment known to med-
ical science—and the old man’s still slipping
away. Laying here, in this bed, is the man
who made EVERYTHING into a Big Joke.
Just the fact he’s not biting scares the shit
out of me. I’m yelling, “Knock-knock!” and
when he says nothing in response it’s the
same as him not having a pulse. I’m yell-
ing, “Knock-knock!”

I’m yelling, “Why did the Existentialist
cross the road?”

And he’s STILL dying, the old man’s leav-
ing me not knowing the answer to anything,
when I still don’t get it. He’s abandoning
me while I’m still so fucking stupid. In my
desperation I reach out to take the limp,
blue fingers of his cold-cold dying hand and
he doesn’t flinch even when I grind a Joy
Buzzer against the blue skin of his ice-cold
palm. I’m yelling, “Knock-knock.”

Nothing kills a joke faster than asking my
old man to explain himself, but I’m yelling,
“Why’d the Old Lady walk out on her hus-
band and her four-year-old kid?” And laying
there in that bed, my old man, he stops
breathing. No heartbeat. Totally flatlined.

So this kid who’s sitting bedside in this
hospital room, late-late at night he takes
the joke equivalent of those electric pad-
dles doctors use to stop your heart attack,
the hee-haw equivalent of what a para-
medic Robin Williams would use on you
in some Clown Emergency Room—a kind
of Three Stooges de-frib-ulator—the kid
takes a big, creamy, heaped-up custard pie
topped with a thick-thick layer of whipped
cream, the same as Charlie Chaplin would
save your life with, and the kid reaches that
pie up sky-high overhead, as high as the
kid can reach, and brings it down, hard,
lightning fast, slam-dunking it hard as the
blast from a Polack’s shotgun—POW!—
right in his old man’s kisser.

/: & . x
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PLAYBOY

158

And despite the miraculous, well-
documented healing powers of the Comedic
Arts my old man dies taking a big bloody
shit in his bed.

No, really, it was funnier than it sounds.
Please, don’t blame my old man. If you’re
not laughing at this point, it’s my fault.
I just didn’t tell it right, you know, you
mess up a punch line and you can totally
botch even the best joke. For example,
I went back to the barbershop and told
them how he died and how I tried to save
him, right up to and including the custard
pie and how the hospital had their secu-
rity goons escort me up to the crazy ward
for a little 72-hour observation. And even
telling that part, I fucked it up—because
those barbershop guys just looked at me.
I told them about seeing—and smell-
ing—my old man, dead and smeared all
over with blood and shit and whipped
cream, all that stink and sugar, and they
looked and looked at me, the barbers
and the old guys chewing tobacco, and
nobody laughed. Standing in that same
barbershop all these years later, I say,
“Knock-knock.”

The barbers stop cutting hair. The old
goobers stop chewing on their tobacco.

I say, “Knock-knock.” Nobody takes
a breath, and it’s like I’m standing in a
room full of dead men. And I tell them,
“Death! DEATH is there! Don’t you peo-
ple never read Emily...Dickerson? You
never heard of Jean-Paul...Stuart?” I wig-
gle my eyebrows and tap the ash from my
invisible cigar and say, “Who’s there?” I
say, “I don’t know who’s there—I can’t
even play the violin!”

What I do know is I’ve got a brain filled
with jokes I can’t ever forget—like a tumor
the size of a grapefruit inside of my skull.
And I know that eventually even dog shit
turns white and stops stinking, but I have
this permanent head filled with crap I’ve
been trained my whole life to think is funny.
And for the first time since I was a Little
Stooge standing in that barbershop saying
fag and cunt and nigger and saying kike, I fig-
ure out that I wasn’t telling a joke—I was the
joke. I mean, I finally Get It. Understand me:
A bona fide gold-plated joke is like a Mich-
elob served ice cold...with a Mickey Finn...
by somebody smiling so nice you won't never
know how bad you’ve been fucked. And a
punch line is called a “punch line” for a
VERY good reason, because punch lines
are a sugar-coated fist with whipped cream
hiding the brass knuckles that sock you right
in the kisser, hitting you—POW!—right in
your face and saying, “I am smarter than you”
and “I’m bigger than you” and “I call the shots,
here, Buddy-BOY.”

And standing in that same old Saturday
morning barbershop, I scream, “Knock-
knock!”

I demand, “KNOCK-KNOCK!”

And finally one old barbershop codger,
he says in barely a tobacco whisper, so soft
you can hardly hear him, he asks, “Who’s
there?”

And I wait a beat, just for the tension—my
old man, he taught me that timing is crucial,
timing is EVERYTHING-—until, finally, I
smile so nice and I say, “Radio not....”

“Okay, you’re a ‘poor little match girl.’ Now explain who he is?”

A

THE "66-

(continued from page 132)
until the crash. The somnambulant 1950s
were overtly dull. The 1960s were loose
and loopy; the 1970s, narcissistic. But the
1980s? The 1980s defy that sort of thumb-
nail description. It was the most schizoid of
decades—both boom and bust, both liber-
tine and churchy, both full of bluster and full
of doubt—and in retrospect it seems less a
distinct era than a 10-year exercise in willful
obliviousness manifested largely as hyper-
bolic rhetoric and gaudy exhibitionism. With
all this posturing and profligacy, along with
a heavy dose of prudery, one might as well
say that what we most love about the 1980s
is that, thank God, they finally ended.

Of course, to be fair, it wasn’t all bad. There
were Magic, Larry and Michael, the 1980
U.S. Olympic hockey team, the gull-winged
DeLorean, Ben & Jerry’s, young Christie
Brinkley, Cindy Crawford, Elle Macpher-
son, U2, Prince, Tom Petty, Blondie, Tom
Cruise, Robert De Niro, Meryl Streep, David
Lynch, Oliver Stone, Michael J. Fox, Rose-
anne Barr, Sam Kinison and Hulk Hogan
and the reemergence of professional wres-
tling, whose vaunting served as the perfect
bleat for an age that was less a time of quiet
navel-gazing than of noisy chest beating—a
time when Americans, like wrestlers, needed
to insist they were the best.

It is no great mystery why the 1980s
seemed so aggressively, strenuously upbeat.
They had begun in the demoralization of the
late 1970s, with long lines at the gas station
thanks to Middle East oil price manipula-
tions, a faltering economy lacerated by high
inflation and high unemployment (it was
called “stagflation”), the Cold War reignited
by the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan and
Americans held hostage in Iran. Confidence
had crumbled. In July 1979 President Jimmy
Carter retreated to Camp David and then
emerged to declare what everyone already
knew: Basically, America was fucked. So was
he. Ronald Reagan, who Americans worried
was too extreme for the country, galloped
to victory in the 1980 presidential election,
and thus began what some have called the
age of Reagan—an era of optimism.

But the era of Reagan didn’t open tri-
umphantly either. Though he tried to boost
sagging American confidence by giving
national pep talks like a parent to a bullied
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PLAYBOY

160

so he said, on the government dole. Even
before the boom, two of the most popu-
lar television programs were Dallas and
Dynasty, which allowed Americans a peek at
the abundance.

It was a decade of surfaces, of high
aesthetics, of fashion over values, of stim-
ulation rather than feeling. In some ways
the decade's style was set by MTV. Its rapid-
fire editing, sleek images, pulsing sound
and teasing sexuality would all leach into
the larger culture. Miami Vice, one of the
most successful and easily the most stylish
television program of the period, was alleg-
edly sold on this simple pitch: “MTV and
cops.” The most acclaimed designer of the
decade was Giorgio Armani with his clean
power suits. The most popular musical art-
ist was Michael Jackson with his tricked-out
dance sound. The most successful film pro-
ducers of the decade were Don Simpson and
Jerry Bruckheimer, the team that specialized
in such slick, fast-paced, high-octane sexy
entertainment as Flashdance and Top Gun.
And it was another marker of the age that
the duo hired TV-commercial directors like
Adrian Lyne and Tony Scott, thus certifying
the convergence of the world of ads and the
world of movies, of Pavlovian triggers and
entertainment. Everything now seemed fast
and loud and shiny. It was a world of ice,
and there was no traction.

To some this was a partial restoration
of the 1960s, since that decade also had
its indulgences—its drugs and its easy
sexuality—and since it also emphasized plea-
sure and gratification. But the differences
were more striking than the similarities and
more instructive of what 1980s materialism
really signified, which may have been a reac-
tion against the 1960s, not a rehabilitation
of them. It may even have been a reaction
by the same people, now 20 years older. In
the 1960s pleasure was a challenge to the

Establishment and to its free-market capi-
talism. In the 1980s pleasure was a product
of that Establishment and a testament to it.
The 1960s were a decade of young people
who had no desire to “make it”; the 1980s
were a decade of adults who were enjoy-
ing the fruits of having made it. The 1960s
were a decade of introspection; the 1980s
a decade of consumption. The 1960s were
an expression of freedom; the 1980s were
an expression of extravagance. In many
ways, enjoying oneself in the 1980s was less
important than showing everyone else that
one had the wherewithal to enjoy oneself—
the money and the power to do so. In the
1960s no one felt the need to show off. In
the 1980s, everyone did.

But for all the gilded-age excess, for all
the cold surfaces—perhaps even because of
them—there was another competing force
in the decade that underscored the cultural
schizophrenia. That force was moralism.
Indeed, the most materialistic of ages was
also among the most moralistic. While Don-
ald Trump occupied one extreme, a moral
commissar like the fundamentalist preacher
Jerry Falwell and his Moral Majority occu-
pied the other. And if this was the era of
Studio 54 and its cocaine-wasted nights, it
was also the era of Liberty University and
its fresh-faced assertion of family values.
In short, it was a high time but a strident
one, too—a time when the religious right
attempted to commandeer the culture.

Yet as radically different as the self-
indulgence and the religiosity were, each
may have emanated from the same source
and for the same reasons. They operated
as a balm for and a protection against
something else that lurked in the 1980s
and couldn't quite be exorcised: a sense of
threat. The masters of the universe lived big
to inure themselves to it. The moral com-
missars spoke big to challenge it. (A few, like

the religious zealots Jim Bakker and Jimmy
Swaggart, lived big and spoke big.) Neither
side could deny that so much in the decade
was malfunctioning, so much beneath the
high times and high-blown moral rhetoric
seemed dangerous, and as much as it was
the beginning of a new era, it was the epi-
taph for an old one that for all its shaggy
chaos had seemed to be better.

The decade had scarcely begun when
John Lennon, one of the leading avatars of
the 1960s, was assassinated. It was a sym-
bolic moment that closed the door on that
decade once and for all and with it the rem-
nants of 1960s idealism and hope. In politics
it was, as Reagan put it in his 1984 reelec-
tion campaign, “morning in America,” a
time of reawakening. But tensions ran deep,
especially racial tensions, and the macho
preening could be dangerous, as in Cen-
tral America—where the U.S. government
supported quasi-fascist movements—when
it wasn’t preposterous, as in the invasion of
the tiny island of Grenada. The economy
would roar, but it would create one of the
largest disparities in the nation’s history,
between the richest Americans and every-
one else. Drug use was rampant, but they
weren't the happy stoner drugs of the 1960s
and 1970s that made everyone mellower.
The drugs of choice now were PCP, ecstasy
and crack—drugs that made everyone edg-
ier, more paranoid.

You could see it too in 1980s attitudes
toward sexuality. Perhaps nothing since the
advent of PLAYBOY had as profound an effect
on sex as the outbreak of AIDS did early in
the decade—the first heightening the sense
of sexual liberation, the second practically
destroying it. Both explicitly and implicitly,
AIDS changed everything. Michael Jack-
son, who may have been the central male
sex icon of the decade, introduced the
idea of faux sexuality—sexuality without
the hint of sex. And the female icons were
not voluptuous, smart blondes like Marilyn
Monroe and Jayne Mansfield in the 1950s,
who betrayed that decade’s squareness, or
tough beauties like Raquel Welch and Eliza-
beth Taylor in the 1960s, or disarming and
unaffected kittens like Charlie’s Angels in
the 1970s. Rather they were surreptitious
sirens like Kathleen Turner in Body Heat or
Kim Basinger in The Natural or Glenn Close
in Fatal Attraction—slinky femmes fatales who
promised pleasure only to break the prom-
ise. In the 1980s sex was often a killer.

Still, the preeminent sex symbol of the
decade was almost certainly Madonna, who
was no killer. If anything, she was a parody
of the sexual temptress. She arrived on the
New York club scene as a waif in dishabille,
crooning half jokily that she wanted to feel
“like a virgin” in a decade when virginity
was obsolete. She rapidly transformed her-
self into a golden-gowned “material girl,”
proclaiming her sex wasn’t for free and it
wasn't for fun. It was a commercial transac-
tion just like everything else in the decade.
It was Madonna’s uncanny knack for using
herself as a commodity—rather than let-
ting anyone else use her—that made her in
many ways the decade’s muse. While always
winking to let us in on her scheme, she
demonstrated in her naked ambition that
the decade’s avalanche of money, its cold

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PLAYBOY

162

calculations, its emotional detachment and
its obsession with appearances and status
were all comical. And though one doesn’t
usually think of her this way, it was also
Madonna the moralist who underscored
that the 1980s were a decade with plenty
of show but not much heart.

Madonna wasn’t the only one who under-
stood that the decade’s schizophrenia was as
much a function of the culture’s outward
bravado and inner vacuity as of its money
and moralism. These undercurrents of a
society with a bold facade and not much but
corruption underneath would surface as the
major theme for some of the decade’s most
important artists and in some of its most
important works of art. Bruce Springsteen
began the decade with his long lament The
River and then released Born in the U.S.A.,
with its title song’s biting commentary on
American patriotism (the irony of which
many missed) and its account of the anger
and sadness beneath the Reagan bromides.
Then he moved on to Tunnel of Love and

. КУ

its signature song, “Brilliant Disguise,” in
which he addresses the truth under the sur-
face with the recurrent plaint “Is that you,
baby, or just a brilliant disguise?” It was the
question of the age.

In The Bonfire of the Vanities Tom Wolfe not
only gives the decade’s buccaneers a name
but also examines its materialistic values and
concludes that even his money-besotted pro-
tagonist understands, if only vaguely, that
something has gone wrong in America—
that money lust has perverted everything.
Similarly, Bret Easton Ellis, in Less Than
Zero, a novel that would serve as a kind of
1980s Great Gatsby, shows a generation lost
and adrift in drugs and money and sex, but
joylessly so, because nothing is connected to
any emotional truth.

In movies, the decade’s first best picture
Oscar was awarded to Robert Redford’s
Ordinary People, the story of a seemingly
perfect upper-middle-class family ultimately
wrecked by its insistence on maintaining a
phony surface and denying the disturbances

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underneath. David Lynch’s Blue Velvet is a
surrealistic journey into the rot below the
crust of American complacency and piety.
Oliver Stone’s Wall Street, with übercapital-
ist Gordon Gekko’s slogan “Greed is good,”
luxuriates in the wealth and power of invest-
ment banking only to turn against it by
film’s end in favor of more basic and tra-
ditional values. The master of the universe
is undone. His young acolyte sees through
him. Once again the 1980s are shown to be
materially full but morally vapid.

But if all these purveyed rather typi-
cal moralizing over the decade’s decadent
values, there is one movie that seemed to
capture the 1980s ambivalent soul with
neither approval nor disapprobation: Scar-
face. In many respects Tony Montana is the
1980s man par excellence. He is an ambi-
tious immigrant who rises from nothing,
using his pluck, muscle and guile to become
a master of the universe in drugs, with a
mountain of cocaine, a mansion and an
exquisite moll. In 1980s terms Tony has it
all, and Brian De Palma’s film lets us vicari-
ously ride to the top with Tony—its aesthetic
is the 1980s’ aesthetic. It is as shiny as a mir-
ror. The film’s slogan, a more apt motto for
the age than Gekko’s “Greed is good,” is
“Nothing exceeds like excess.”

But as in so much of 1980s art as in so
much of 1980s extravagance itself, there is
no elation for Tony in his ascent. It is all
for public consumption, an ego boost, and
it is empty. Even the sex is a letdown. In
any case, success demands eternal vigilance.
Tony cannot lower his guard because other
aspiring masters are always ready to take
him down. The descent is inevitable. By the
end, a Götterdämmerung of wild material-
ism, Tony is unhinged—paranoid, coked up,
violent. The perils of 1980s America have
been loosed. Devoid of emotion or guilt,
Tony is a man of surfaces. When the sur-
face shatters there is nothing underneath
on which to fall back—not even the trusty
moral values of Wall Street.

By the time the decade glided to its con-
clusion, with Reagan gone to his ranch and
George H.W. Bush in the White House,
the high times had moderated, the threats
seemed less perilous, the surfaces were less
glassy, the machismo seemed softer and less
compulsory and the schizophrenia seemed
to be abating because the extremes seemed
less extreme. (Of course this was partly a
result of the religious right having inte-
grated itself more fully into the American
mainstream.) It wasn’t morning anymore
in America, it was afternoon.

Then, just like that, the 1980s were gone,
without lament over their passing or the
likelihood of nostalgia or a possible 805
Show sitcom (what would it be, everyone
snorting blow?) or a revival of 1980s fash-
ion or any revisionism about the greatness
of Generation X. The decade was lived large
to ignore its anxieties and actively build
morale. When it ended, when the morale
seemed to have been rebuilt, the decade
itself, like so much in it, simply evaporated,
leaving a great gaping historical hole while
America moved on.

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163

PLAYBOY

164

HOMESICKNESS

(continued from page 131)
my daughters and grandchildren with the
anguish of the lost cabin.

Unfortunately novelists are more likely
to understand the characters they create
than they are themselves. My dreams were
full of the bears and songbirds, the deer
and wolves I had seen in the vicinity of the
cabin that often seemed more fellow crea-
tures than other people did to me. Oddly it
was only when I found an area in Montana
that seemed the spiritual equivalent of the
Upper Peninsula—that is, remote, under-
populated, possessed of a good bar and a
wide valley with a good trout river running
through it—that the pang of homesickness
began to dissipate. On a hike I was watched
by seven wild Rocky Mountain sheep. And
the other day as I passed downriver in a
skiff there was an infant moose and at least
50 yellow-rumped warblers. The only truly
irritating part has been the 20 or so rattle-
snakes I’ve had to shoot in our home yard
in the past half dozen years, one of which
killed my English setter Rose.

Ultimately, of course, our bodies are our
only true home and their built-in obsoles-
cence urges us on to find a good place to
inhabit. As I said I was seven when I became
obsessed with trout fishing and the woods
with their secretive populations. It seems
that to find any serenity we have to accom-
modate our childhood, the time when our
characters were formed. I fish at least 70
days a summer and in the winter, when we
live near the Mexican border, I quail and
dove hunt for at least 40 afternoons, but
that is another story. In the rest of my time
I write like a mother in order to afford to
indulge my character, which seems unable
to bear up under the burden of home-
sickness. From these remote places I can
make my uncomfortable forays into what is
thought to be the real world, knowing that I
have a home where I belong. I have often
thought that I’m a bit less evolved than oth-
ers. I love five days in New York or Chicago
or Paris, but after that there is a specific
panic, a desperation to sit in a thicket, or

float on a river.

“Will she know what this is in reference to?”

CONAN 0 BRIEN

(continued from page 58)
just me but anybody my age. I remem-
ber individual jokes. He had a top 10 list,
“Things Lincoln Would Say If He Were
Alive Today,” and number seven—it wasn’t
even one or 10—was “Eeeagh! Iron bird!”
I laughed so hard.

PLAYBOY: Here are some things people close
to you say: You make yourself crazy. You’re
too smart for your own good. You’re not
good with idle time.

O’BRIEN: I can get depressed. I have a very
powerful imagination that’s like this big lawn
mower, but sometimes if I’m not careful it
can turn around and run over me. I can get
way too self-analytical. That’s the struggle.
Let’s go back to the beginning of the conver-
sation, when you asked, “Why do another
one of these?” I do make myself crazy, Iam
too smart for my own good, and I do tend to
overthink things. The beautiful thing about
these shows is that when you say, “Hey, let’s
go” and the music starts playing, then I’m
cured of that part of myself. The worry part
of my brain, the analytical part of my brain
is shut down.

PLAYBOY: So doing a show gets you out
of yourself?

O’BRIEN: Yeah, being funny and in the
moment. I’m a little out of control and I
really don’t care. I’m bulletproof. Then I’m
content in this way that’s hard for me to be
content the rest of the time. The list of what
I can’t do is endless, but I can do this.
PLAYBOY: Have you always been prone to
overanalysis?

O’BRIEN: When I was a kid I had an over-
active imagination, and I was anxious.
Someone told me that’s why people drink,
because the first thing alcohol does is shut
down the shame center. That’s how we get
Jersey Shore. As my mother says, I never took
things lightly. I get very dark. Having kids,
that’s a godsend. Your kids are just a con-
stant reminder: Oh, right, I don’t matter
that much. In a good way.

PLAYBOY: Did your parents send you to a
therapist?

O'BRIEN: No, they did not. There were six
of us; I don’t think they knew I was in the
house. [laughs] There was a lot going on. My
dad laughed really hard recently because
someone said, “Oh, and your youngest
child, Justin’—he was born years after the
rest of us—"when he came along and had
five older brothers and sisters, it must have
been a great experience for him. You prob-
ably all nurtured and took care of him.” I
said, “What are you talking about? It was
like throwing a tire into the ape cage.” It
kind of was just like [makes monkey sounds]
“Ooh, ooh, ahh ahh!”

PLAYBOY: You said, “I get very dark.”
O’BRIEN: It has happened to me through-
out my life. I get consumed with worry to
a point where people around me think it’s
destructive. When I got accepted to Har-
vard, I thought, I’m going to be the dumb
guy here. I remember sitting in my office
the first day of The Simpsons, and they told
me to work on a treatment for a half-hour,
three-act script. Га never written that for-
mat before; I’d done only sketches. They put

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PLAYBOY

166

me in a room and shut the door. I remember
talking to Robert Smigel on the phone, and
I was in absolute despair. I gave this speech
at Harvard in 2000 and tried to let them
in on how many times I thought my career
was at a dead end. I’ve felt that, viscerally,
15 times since I was 22. Maybe I’m due for
seven more; I don’t know.

I bottom out. My sister Jane said to me
once, “You have this need to go to the bot-
tom of the pool sometimes; you touch bottom
and then you shoot back up again.” I get
filled with despair. What’s interesting is when
things get tough, I’m very calm. There’s
part of me that maybe just likes that and is
comfortable with trouble and chaos. When
everything’s fine, I’m going from office to
office, asking, “What did you think of the
show?” “Yeah, the show’s really good; I think
it’s gotten good.” “What do you mean it’s got-
ten good?” This reminds me of something my

dad told me. He said, “You know, it’s inter-
esting; you’re making money off something
that should be treated.” [laughs]

PLAYBOY: How dark do things get for you?
Sobbing in a darkened room for 72 hours?
Self-cutting?

O'BRIEN: No, no, sorry to disappoint you.
It’s never not being able to get out of bed;
it’s not being able to stop thinking. I’m
obsessive and thinking about it and think-
ing about it. People say the unexamined
life isn’t worth living. But don’t overdo it.
The constantly examined life is not worth
living either.

PLAYBOY: Do you think you have OCD?
O'BRIEN: I do not think I have OCD, апа
I've checked with my doctor 10,000 times.
PLAYBOY: What have you done to be less
obsessive?

O’BRIEN: I did cognitive therapy, which
helped me with negative thoughts. I was

Kaw au «ЕД

suspicious of therapy, probably suspicious
of feeling good. I’m not the first come-
dian to worry about this; we want to be
funny first and happy second. The biggest
fear is, If I get happy will I still be funny?
What if you’re unhappy and unfunny?
Then you’re really screwed.

PLAYBOY: What finally sent you to therapy?
O’BRIEN: I used to make myself crazy
before every show. I remember think-
ing, I have to make these shows happen.
Sadly, it was not being unhappy that made
me do it; it was the fear that I was being
inefficient. I want my kids not to worry as
much as I do. That's what I wish for them.
Га like them to worry some but not too
much. [laughs]

PLAYBOY: The speech you gave on your final
Tonight Show was very touching: “Nobody
in life gets exactly what they thought they
were going to get. But if you work really
hard and you’re kind, I’m telling you,
amazing things will happen.”

O’BRIEN: I wanted to end on an optimistic
note. I thought it could end up being the
most important moment of my television
career. It still could be, unless I get shot on
the air on TBS, or shoot someone. I have
had too many good things happen in my
career to end on any kind of bitter note.
I’m just saying this to you; we’re alone in
this office, and I don’t have to say this: I
am an incredibly fortunate person. I still
want that to be the message I go with. And
as crazy as this sounds, my career with
NBC was overwhelmingly positive until
this. “Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how
was the play?” [laughs] The play was pretty
good until that part. The entertainment
business has an amazing way of turning
really lucky people into bitter, angry, rage-
filled, jealous, resentful wretches who can’t
believe they got screwed. Some things have
worked out great for me, some things
haven’t. You keep going.

PLAYBOY: Has the dust settled?

O'BRIEN: I think the dust may not settle
for years. Think of an emotion, and Гуе
had it this year: anger, despair, elation.
Doing those last Tonight Shows was a high.
A lot of people tuned in, and I was really
proud of what I was able to make in that
situation. So this was good, this was bad,
this was ugly, this was beautiful, this was
fucked-up, this was sublime. It was cherry,
it was vanilla, it was frogurt, it was mocha
chocolate chip.

PLAYBOY: Can we end this interview, like your
final Tonight Show, on an optimistic note?
O’BRIEN: I cannot tell you how, but I think
I’m different now. Here’s an incredibly
nerdy reference: In the first half of the Lord
of the Rings movie, Gandalf tries to get over
a bridge and falls down a hole. The dragon
pulls him in. He’s gone, and you think he’s
dead. Then he shows up late in the movie
and he’s not dead. They don’t quite explain
what happened, but he’s all white now. He
has been through some incredibly trans-
formative event; he says he fell and he fell
and he fell, and then he comes back, and
he kicks ass. I tell my writers I’m the white
Gandalf now. The guys who work on my
website like that one.

OLIVIA WILDE

(continued from page 92)
03

PLAYBOY: We're guessing you didn't get a lot
of pee breaks during filming.

WILDE: Not many, no. I’m sure we were
all severely dehydrated, but I try to avoid
complaining about these things. Sure, it
was uncomfortable to wear a tight rubber
costume for four and a half months, but
it was also an amazing experience. These
suits were created with a new technology.
They take a body scan and design it com-
pletely on a computer. It was like being
inside a work of art.

04

PLAYBOY: Your Tron co-star Jeff Bridges is
best known to many of us as the Dude from
The Big Lebowski. Did his inner dude ever
make an appearance?

WILDE: The thing about Jeff is, in a lot of
ways he really is the Dude. He has an inner
peace I tried to learn from and this easy-
going, come-what-may, go-with-the-flow
attitude that’s such a joy to be around.
Nothing really fazes him. With Jeff it’s all
going to be okay.

05

PLAYBOY: Your real surname is Cockburn,
and you changed it to Wilde while still in
high school. Is that a life decision a teen-
ager is qualified to make?

WILDE: It was meant as an homage to the
writers in my family, many of whom cre-
ated pen names for their careers. I have
a grandfather who changed his name to
James Helvick to write the novel Beat the
Devil, which got turned into a movie with
Humphrey Bogart. I always thought hav-
ing a pen name was so romantic. I honestly
didn’t foresee that people would look at it
as a sexy name, like “She's wiiiild!” Any-
time a story is written about me, the title
is usually some pun on my last name—
“Born to Be Wilde” or “Take a Walk on
the Wilde Side.” [laughs] I don’t mind it;
it’s just not something I ever considered
when I picked the name.

06

PLAYBOY: You were a wild teenager, get-
ting your first tattoo at 13, then getting
piercings, shaving your head and hanging
out with street musicians. What were you
rebelling against?

WILDE: I don’t think I was rebelling
against anything. It definitely wasn’t a
rebellion against my family. In a way, I
was paying tribute to a family that has
a very adventurous and independent
spirit. We were in New York City, where
it’s pretty easy to act crazy. If I had been
in Omaha I probably wouldn’t have had
so many opportunities.

Q7
PLAYBOY: Your parents are both journalists
who have traveled to war-torn countries
such as Afghanistan and Iraq. Growing up,
did you ever join them?
WILDE: Never. They went only to really
dangerous places, not kid-friendly places.

It’s not as if they could’ve left us with a
babysitter in the hotel while they went to
interview the Taliban. They still travel to
some amazing places. In fact, my mom’s
getting ready to go to Yemen for 60 Min-
utes. It’s actually kind of adorable; they
try to pretend my job is more interesting
than theirs. We'll have conversations and
they'll act as though fighting fake aliens
in a movie is more exciting than my mom
going to Yemen.

08

PLAYBOY: You played a doctor for more than
three years on the Fox TV drama House.
At this point do you feel you could make a
medical diagnosis?

WILDE: Oh yeah, absolutely. Just come to
me. I learned a lot about medicine from
the show, such as what constitutes a symp-
tom for jaundice. I'm always diagnosing
people with jaundice—it's the yellowing
in the eyes. Your eyeballs are connected
to your liver, and so is your tongue. I see
my friends and say, “Oh no, you have
jaundice." The human body is so com-
plex, and there's no limit to what can go
wrong with it.

09

PLAYBOY: You’ve kissed a few women оп
TV, first on the teen drama The O.C.
and then on House. What’s the trick to
a believable lesbian kiss if you’re not
actually gay?

WILDE: It's the same trick I use when I'm
in a movie like Tron and pretending to fly
a plane. Acting is acting. It’s not as if I
play myself most of the time and kissing
a woman is one time I depart from that.
It’s fun to play things that are different
from you.

010

PLAYBOY: Your husband, Tao Ruspoli, is ап
Italian prince. Does that technically make
you a princess?

WILDE: Technically, yeah, but I never call
myself that. I occasionally get mail that
says “Principessa.” It’s all part of being this
lucky person who has been welcomed into
an interesting family with a long history.
I’m into European history, so it’s exciting
to trace our family back to the 14th cen-
tury and beyond. How many people get
to say “This castle has been in our family
since the 1400s”?

011

PLAYBOY: Most people can’t even say they
have a castle.

WILDE: That’s true. In America we’re still
so young. The oldest building in Los Ange-
les is probably from the 1920s. But this
castle is so old, it’s practically from another
planet. There are dungeons in the base-
ment where they used to torture people.
There’s a table down there that, when they
sanded it, still had blood stains from hun-
dreds of years ago. Medieval times weren’t
fun times to be alive.

012
PLAYBOY: You and Ruspoli had your wed-
ding on a school bus. Shouldn’t a princess

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167

PLAYBOY

168

be able to afford something a little more
extravagant?

WILDE: We didn’t want that. The bus was
the only place we could be completely
alone. The wedding was a secret, and we
wanted to do it someplace where we could
hide with our best friends. It was all about
the intimacy of the promise we were mak-
ing. When I go to weddings it’s usually all
about the party and the place settings and
the dress and the flower arrangements.
Our wedding wasn’t about any of that. I
mean, come on, we got engaged at Burn-
ing Man. We were hippies. We lived on
that bus for months.

013

РІ.АҮВОҮ: As somebody who has called a
school bus home, do you have any helpful
tips for bus living?

WILDE: Limit your possessions. We tend
to cart around a lot of unnecessary junk
with us. I used to lug around everything,
just in case I needed it, and the truth is,
of course you don’t. When I travel I’ve
learned to narrow it down to only the
things I absolutely need.

014
PLAYBOY: And what would those things be?
WILDE: A change of clothes is always good.
And for me 一 I inherited this from my
dad—my biggest fear is being stuck some-
where with nothing to read, so I always
carry too many books. That's my one

excess. I also have this thing that I'm very
sensitive to smell, so I carry around dif-
ferent essential oils. If you're stuck in an
airport in Dallas, you can pull one out and
it'll make you feel as though you're where
you want to be.

015
PLAYBOY: In (һе upcoming movie Cowboys
and Aliens you’re part of the human upris-
ing against an extraterrestrial invasion. Do
you believe aliens exist?
WILDE: Well, as Stephen Hawking says, we
have no reason to believe they don’t exist.
But I don’t know why they’d be interested
in us, unless they’re trying to stop us from
destroying the universe. There’s a certain
amount of arrogance in thinking they’d
want to come to this planet at all or that
they’d look like us or like versions of us. I
love Moby’s video “In This World,” where
the aliens are tiny little creatures who wan-
der through New York City, holding little
signs that say HELLO and HOLA, but nobody
can see them. Who’s to say that’s not the
form they’re taking?

016

PLAYBOY: You collect classic cars. What’s
your dream car?

WILDE: I think I own it—a 1958 Chevy Bis-
cayne. It’s cool because I grew up want-
ing the 1954 Bel Air, but that car is almost
too perfect. There’s something about the
Biscayne that’s a little funkier. My hus-

“You don’t think it’s too Christmas-y?”

band has a 1959 Thunderbird convert-
ible, and it’s awesome. It’s cream with a
red interior. It’s gorgeous; it looks like a
shark. I love our cars, but we don’t drive
them as much as we should. They suck
up so much gas, and they’re not exactly
eco-friendly.

017
PLAYBOY: Isn’t it a crime to own а car like
that and never drive it?
WILDE: Probably. The great thing about
driving one of these cars is that it makes
other drivers happy. People smile at you
and let you cut in. It’s as if they’re grate-
ful you’re still driving it. But the cars are
not exactly discreet. My life has changed
so that I try to blend in more. When I was
younger it was always about standing out
and being different. Now the last thing I
want to do is drive down the street and call
attention to myself. That’s what driving my
Biscayne does.

018

PLAYBOY: You once won a pancake-eating
contest in Australia, eating 33 pancakes
in just 20 minutes. Were you born to be a
competitive eater?

WILDE: I entered the contest only because
they said a woman could never win, and
that’s a surefire way to get me to do some-
thing. I’ve always had a huge appetite and
don’t get full easily, so I guess I was meant
to be a competitive eater, the way some
people are born to be long-distance run-
ners. But Га never do it again.

019

PLAYBOY: Іп your movies you’ve played both
a brunette in Alpha Dog and a blonde in
Turistas. Do blondes have more fun?
WILDE: No, that’s bullshit. It’s not true at all.
But I have to give credit to blondes. Having
been raised by one and being one, it’s great
to surprise people when they have low
expectations. Often stupid people expect
nothing from a blonde, and then the blonde
can shock them by being Hillary Clinton.
I’m pretty sure she has fun. I mean, she
gets to travel everywhere, eat amazing food
in all these different countries—you know
she’s having a great time. And she probably
enjoys being underestimated just so she can
blow people away.

020
PLAYBOY: Megan Fox once declared you so
sexy it makes her “want to strangle a moun-
tain ox.” You’re a big PETA supporter; is
threatening to strangle animals the best
way to win your heart?
WILDE: I thought it was a witty, clever
choice of words. There are a lot more bor-
ing ways to compliment someone, and it’s
rare when actors in this business compli-
ment each other. I’m sure she means no
harm to the mountain oxen. Shortly after
Megan said that, a writer on House who’s
also one of my best friends drew a moun-
tain ox on my dressing room mirror and
underneath it wrote SAVE ME, OLIVIA! PLEASE
MAKE OUT WITH MEGAN!

CLEVELAND

(continued from page 144)
in Cleveland, Jesus in New England. Go
figure. Say a prayer:

Lord have mercy on the best location in
the nation!

The satanic attacks against us go on and
on, even to this day. The Indians were
pretty much the worst team in all the major
leagues, just as The Sporting News predicted
they would be at the beginning of the season.
At the same time, their general manager,
Mark Shapiro, who assembled this worst
team, is being promoted to team president.
(Shapiro is not a Clevelander but a native
of the same cursed Great City of Baltimore
that wound up with the old Browns.)

And the Browns coach, Eric Mangini,
whose first year at the helm resulted in one
of the worst teams in Browns history, has
been given a pat on the back and a vote
of confidence by the team’s new president.
(Mangini isn’t a Clevelander either. Some
say he’s from New York, some say he’s from
New England, some say he is the mutant
elephantine offspring of Rasputin and
Touchdown Jesus.)

Nobody in town understands why the team
owners who are Clevelanders—the Lerners,
the Dolans—can't find any real Clevelanders,
who actually care about the Browns and the
Indians, to run their teams.

I'm going to be fair about all this, so I will
be the first to admit we have had some tough
times. Fate has badly diddled us upside down
and over again. Tornadoes have stripped us
of our roofs. Hail has shattered our win-
dows. Floods have given putrid expression
to our sewer lines. Snowfalls have buried us.
And buried us. And buried us.

We petition the Lord with prayer!

We petition the Lord with more prayer!

And when that doesn’t work, in our
gloom and in our depression, in our inner
fury and frustration, we gaze lovingly
(when we can see it through the fog or the
snow) at the symbol of our town, the Ter-
minal Tower, for so many years our tallest
building. The Terminal Tower, I must make
clear, is not the Cleveland Clinic’s VIP can-
сег ward—I know, because I’ve resided іп
that ward. No, the Terminal Tower is the
biggest extended middle finger in America.
A monument to Clevelanders. An expres-
sion of integrity forged in rock and stone.
Extended to Forbes magazine. Extended to
Steve Forbes. Extended to Benedict Arnold
in drag. Extended to Rasputin. Extended
to Jim Thome. Extended to LeBron.
Extended to motherfucking Delonte West.
Extended to all the late-night jokesters tell-
ing Cleveland jokes. Extended to the Great
City of Baltimore. And proudly extended
to the New York Fucking Yankees.

Never mind all this macho talk. The
women of Cleveland, I’ve noted, feel even
more passionately about our town than the
men do. I was having a meeting with a stu-
dio executive in Los Angeles, and when I
walked out, his assistant, a stunning red-
head, came running after me.

“Hey,” she said, “you’re from Cleve-
land, right?”

I said, “Right.”

She smiled. She started unbuttoning
her blouse. One button and then another
and another and another. I stood there
and thought, Great, finally. I finally get my
reward from God for being a Clevelander.

She pulled her blouse open and I saw them.
On the front of a Cleveland Browns T-shirt:
two Brownie elves. I stared at the...elves.

She said, “Do you love them as much as
I do?”

I grinned and said, “Yes. I love them
very much.”

She smiled happily, turned and walked
back to her office.

And before I met Naomi, in my admit-
tedly adulterous first marriage, I had an
affair with a young woman who was the
daughter of a prominent politician in
Cleveland. She was ever-orgasmic about
her hometown. She drove her Dodge Dart
cross-country from L.A. whenever she
could visit it. She knew all about carbure-
tors. She knew all about cheeseburgers. She
knew all about the beer made at the Great
Lakes Brewing Company. She loathed
Benedict Arnold. She loathed Rasputin.
She knew that Rocky Colavito was now an
onion farmer in upstate New York. She had
а crush on Bernie Kosar. And she knew all
about rock and roll. She played Ian Hunt-
er’s “Cleveland Rocks” over and over again
whenever she got the blues.

She’s married now. She named one of her
kids after three of the Beatles. Never doubt it:
Cleveland really is the heart of rock and roll.

Miserable? We’re not miserable in Cleve-
land. We have fun in Cleveland. We wear
T-shirts that say CLEVELAND—YOU GOTTA BE
TOUGH and CLEVELAND—IT DOESN’T SUCK
and I’M FROM CLEVELAND, SO SHUT UP AND SIT
Down. We go to the Indians games and yell
“Frankentorre!” when we see Joe Torre,
historically with the Yankees and now with
the Dodgers. We wear Yankees pinstripes
at Indians-Yankees games with the number
“666” and the words “the Beast” on the
back. And when a Yankee hits a home run,
we yell, “Nobody cares! Nobody cares!” We
chant “Loser” when Jim Thome comes back
to Progressive Field, which will always be
“the Jake” to us. And we can’t wait until
the day LeBron comes back with the Heat
to play the Cavs.

We go to see the Browns with our kids
when the windchill is 20 below, when the
beer in your hand freezes before you can
get it to your lips and when your lip gets
stuck to the beer when it tries to make its
way back to your hand.

I took our smallest boy, Luke, seven at the
time, to a game like that at Browns Stadium.
He had to go to the bathroom at halftime,
had to go very badly, and we went to the
head of the line and found ourselves in a
jammed men’s room of smoking and drink-
ing Brownie fans.

And the minute we went in, they started
yelling, “Get out of the way; the kid’s gotta
piss!” They pushed everyone else out of
the way and Lukie and I went into the stall
and he did the longest pee in world history.
They cheered when we came out of the stall
and high-fived him. He’ll never forget it.
It was the most fun he’s ever had in a john
(so far; he’s young).

On the way out of the stadium, the wind

[HE
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169

PLAYBOY

170

blew off Lukie’s hat. And then the wind
blew somebody’s cell phone into his face.
And then it almost knocked him flat on his
little butt. He loved every minute of it. It
was one of the happiest days of his life—
never mind, of course, that the Brownies
lost. We were both so happy that on the way
home I tried to drive over all the potholes
I saw just so we could laugh and toughen
up our kidneys.

When it got really bad here, when the
Indians and the Browns had both bro-
ken our hearts, when it was still snowing
in April or even early May, when another
of our favorite restaurants closed, when
Dennis Kucinich announced yet another
presidential run, we had one surefire way
of pulling ourselves out of the doldrums, of
finding redemption. We watched the Cavs
play basketball. We lost ourselves in LeBron.
He was our gift from God.

But then he died. And was buried in
Miami. We grieved. We’re not insensi-
tive here. Sure, we grieved. But then we
figured—fuck him, he’s dead. Life comes at
you fast. Life is a beach. Life sucks ass.

I moved back to my hometown almost
10 years ago with my wife and our four
little boys. We had been living in Malibu,
in a house overlooking the sea, just across
the street from Bob Dylan’s house. I knew
what I was doing moving back to Cleveland.
Really. Really! (Oh, up yours!)

My wife and I wanted to raise our little
boys in a normal, all-American setting—in
Ohio, where Naomi and І had both been
raised. With the same values with which

we—the offspring of Hungarian, Polish and
Italian parents—were raised. We didn’t want
our boys to be surfer dudes, growing up on
the same beach where Sean Penn and Emilio
Estevez and Rob Lowe had grown up.

Three of our four boys are teenagers now.
They are not surfer dudes. They have shown
no inclination to go out and surf Lake Erie in
hellish winter. They are normal Clevelanders
and Ohioans. They root for the Indians and
the Browns, even when they stink, though
one of them, Nick, 14, is a Yankees fan. (Мау
God forgive me, I don’t really know how I
allowed that to happen, but I consider it one
of my life’s greatest failures.)

We have taught our boys not to start any
fights, but being Clevelanders, they don’t
take shit from anybody either, thank you very
much. They go to church with us, although
that doesn’t mean they don’t use a four-letter
word every now and then. (You’re fucking
right we punish them for it.) Nick, the Yan-
kees fan, a tough guy (you'd sure as hell
better be a tough guy if you’re going to be
a Yankees fan in Cleveland), was suspended
recently from his Catholic Youth Organiza-
tion basketball team for loudly telling a ref
that the call he made was “bullshit.”

When it hits the fan, we hang tough. This
is Cleveland, for Christ’s sake! When I was
a Hungarian immigrant kid growing up
on the near West Side, I had three heroes.
Shondor Birns was a racketeer of Hungar-
ian descent who drove his sparkling green
Cadillac convertible down Lorain Avenue,
the street where my parents and I lived,
on Saturday nights. Lou Teller, also of

oe "Roy Delgado

“There’s just something about a man in uniform.”

Hungarian descent, was a bank robber who
hit a bunch of banks in our part of town
with his hot-mama gun moll covering his
back. Rocky Colavito was the big Indians
slugger, a matinee idol role model for a zit-
faced Howdy Doody-looking kid, his face
smeared with Vaseline.

The shit hit the fan on all three of my
heroes—life comes at you fast, life is a beach,
etc., etc. Shondor got blown into smither-
eens by a rival gangster while sitting in
another hot Cadillac. Lou got caught and
did a long stretch in jail. Rocky got traded
to the Detroit Tigers and even wound up
doing a short stretch for the Yankees. (I
forgave him; I still have his Indians base-
ball card on my nightstand.)

The shit hit the fan on all three of my
heroes, and I learned the lesson all Cleve-
landers learn: You gotta be tough! How
tough do you gotta be? This tough:

A member of our church drove down to
Restland Cemetery, near our home, every
week to visit his wife’s grave. He was in his
90s. He’d been making visits to his wife’s
grave for a long, long time. Snow was falling
when he made his visit one week in Janu-
ary. It turned into a lake-effect blizzard. He
didn’t care. He was going to visit his wife, by
God, snow or no damn snow! The hell with
the damn snow! The hell with the damn lake
effect! A little snow wasn’t going to stop him!
He was a Clevelander, by God.

So he drove to Restland. And the snow
kept falling. And he kept praying by his
wife’s grave. And the snow kept falling.
When he'd finished all his prayers, he got
back into his car, and it wouldn’t start. And
the snow kept falling.

Well, the hell with the damn car! The hell
with the damn snow! The hell with the damn
lake effect! He got out of the car and started
walking back home. He was a Clevelander,
by God. And the snow kept falling. He suf-
fered a heart attack. He fell to the ground.
He died. And the snow kept falling.

Weeks later, when all that snow was
melting, an elderly lady was visiting her
husband’s grave at Restland when she saw
a shoe attached to a foot sticking out of the
melting snow.

I admired that old guy so much.

So tough, I thought.

Such a heart, I thought.

So real, I thought.

So Cleveland.

I thought about going down to his
funeral mass at our church as a kind of
farewell gesture to a tough guy, a good guy,
a true Clevelander.

But Nick, my son the Yankees lover, had
a basketball tournament that day and I
couldn’t do it. I said to Nick, “Kick ass, but
don’t get caught.” I watched Nick playing
ball at just about the time the old guy was
having his mass at Holy Angels Church.

Life goes on in our tough town in the
usual hard-nosed, loving way. Nick kicked
ass but didn’t get caught. The old guy is
resting at Restland, right next to his wife.
May he rest in peace and may perpetual
light—real sunlight, unfogged, unsmogged,
unclouded—shine upon him. And may no
lake-effect snow ever fall on his grave.

HOLLYWOOD FIXER

(continued from page 124)
responders. Aaron has taught us what we
need to know. I'm not easily impressed. I'm
impressed by Aaron.”

Then there’s a major social services
agency in a large Midwestern city. After
the agency, which is housed in a 22-story
tower, received a series of bomb threats,
the director of security contracted IMS to
do an assessment. The results were unset-
tling. Although the building was supposed
to be inaccessible to vehicles, Cohen found
an opening in a protective cordon of plant-
ers and bollards and drove a car that could
have been laden with explosives right to the
front door. Later, with a few keystrokes on
a computer, he e-mailed a panic-inducing
message. “Because Aaron served in Israel,
he sees things in a way we Americans just
don't,” says the security director, who pre-
fers that he and his agency remain unnamed
as it continues to be a target. “Aaron sug-
gested a whole range of steps, and we took
them. We rewrote our security manual.”

Cohen is a rare hybrid of Hollywood
heat and military know-how. One moment
he'll talk about singer and occasional cli-
ent Rihanna (“I wish I'd been there when
Chris Brown went at her—it would have
ended differently"), the next about pro-
tecting the powerful and the rich in, as
he likes to put it, “austere environments."
By this he means not just the violent
countries in which some business execu-
tives must work but also the exotic lands
in which the wealthy often vacation. Colt
M4 Commando carbines, 70-foot repeat-
ing towers for transmitting radio signals
over vast distances, night-vision goggles,
level-three under-armor concealment vests
and rented helicopters—to Cohen these
are simply tools of the trade.

"You don't find many guys like Aaron in
Los Angeles," says Rob Weiss, an executive
producer of HBO's Entourage. "You find
actors and writers, but you don't find com-
mandos." That being the case, when Doug
Ellin, Entourage's creator, was beset by a
security problem last year, Weiss introduced
him to Cohen. "It was a situation where
someone had crossed the line and needed
to be looked at a little closer," Cohen says
with characteristic evasiveness. То be more
precise, a wannabe Hollywood player was
going around town trying to pass himself
off as Ellin, who happened to be building
a new home and felt particularly exposed.
Cohen checked out the house, assessed its
vulnerabilities and suggested solutions.
Grateful for the resulting peace of mind,
Ellin wrote Cohen into two episodes that
aired near the conclusion of Entourage's
2009 season. The story was that a danger-
ous stalker breaks into the pad shared by
the show's fame-seeking ensemble in pur-
suit of their movie-star leader, Vincent
Chase. Their agent, Ari Gold, urges them
to hire Aaron Cohen, played by veteran
film tough guy Peter Stormare, perhaps
best known for his role in Fargo. Cohen
and his band of Israeli agents become part
of the ensemble's lives, introducing a new
level of paranoia into the series. Entourage

being a comedy, it all comes to an absurdly
amusing end when the stalker is revealed
to be a group of sorority girls after the
underwear of posse member Turtle as part
of a pledge-week prank. Cohen had clearly
entered the popular culture.

On a warm spring morning, Aaron Cohen,
clad in a white T-shirt, Gap jeans, New
Balance sneakers and his always present
Ray-Bans, walks into the Kings Road Cafe,
an informal yet chic Los Angeles break-
fast spot that serves as his unofficial office.
"There's only one way in and one way out,
and I get a 180-degree view," he says only
half joking as he takes his usual seat at an
outdoor corner table. “Му back is to the
wall by second nature," he adds. “When
I sit down I do what is called a precision
generalization. I know that's an oxymo-
ron, but what I mean is I look at everyone
around me. I don't want to come off like
Jack Bauer, but I look at shirts to see how
they're worn. I’m trained in lies—an itch
or a blink, clothing that doesn't match
bags. Everyone has a different tell. I know
instantly if someone is wearing a pistol.
It's always on. I can't turn it off. So I look
around until I can dismiss all threats."

Today nothing untoward catches Cohen's
eye as the café fills with the usual crowd
of screenwriters pecking at laptops and
actresses leashing their dogs to sidewalk
chairs. But this does not mean the direc-
tor of IMS can relax. At this very minute,
for instance, Cohen is keeping track of
Michael Douglas. Before the year is out,
the actor will be battling for his life against
cancer. But he is currently on a weeklong
backpacking trip with his family in Mexico,
where drug executions and kidnappings
are the worry. Prior to departing, Douglas
had contacted IMS, seeking advice on how
to stay safe. Cohen’s response was to outfit
everyone in the party with miniature state-
of-the-art global positioning devices. “I’m
so excited about this,” he says, pulling one
of the $300 gadgets from his pants pocket.
It’s no larger than a cigarette pack. “We
sewed them into all their backpacks. I’m
checking in with Michael twice a day. I call
on his cell and say, ‘Are you standing next
to so-and-so?’ And he says, ‘Yes.’”

The devices cannot, of course, guarantee
that Douglas will avoid mishap, but if some-
thing bad does occur he will have a better
chance of survival. “It’s extremely advanta-
geous to know someone’s last coordinates,”
says Cohen. “In the event of trouble, Га
dispatch my team there. Га contact the
Mexican authorities, the U.S. consulate,
and Га call in some favors from my Israeli
friends. We would find him.

“T have this crazy idea that every mother
and daughter and every couple traveling
in South America will one day have one of
these,” he adds, turning the global positioning
device over in his hands. “Why didn’t Natalee
Holloway have one of these in Aruba?”

Simultaneously, Cohen is monitoring
an international pop diva right here at
home—a five-bedroom estate in Sher-
man Oaks just off Mulholland Drive. He
will not disclose her identity because her
problem—unlike those of clients he does

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172

discuss by name—is ongoing. “She had
a number-one album several years ago,
and a stalker was introduced into her
life,” Cohen says. “Then another stalker
appeared. He was a crazy who believed
she’d ripped off one of his songs. The
claim had no merits, but he was making
direct threats on her website. The police
were called in and found he had a fel-
ony assault arrest. I went to the California
firearms registry and found he had a reg-
istered firearm. At that point she decided
to acquire full-time security.”

The protection is comprehensive, tech-
nologically advanced and heavily armed.
It begins with two dozen closed-circuit
cameras in critical areas of the grounds
around the singer’s home that feed into
high-resolution screens in a control room
in her basement. Her property is also criss-
crossed by invisible radio-frequency beams
that tie into a custom-fabricated electric
map in the control room. If a breach
occurs, the map lights up, pinpointing the
spot. The house is guarded 24 hours a day
by a revolving team of IMS agents who
carry Glock 19 semiautomatic pistols in
tactical holsters concealed in their waist-
bands. Periodically the operatives walk the
perimeter, swiping access cards over digi-
tal readers to confirm that all areas have
been checked. They also monitor the star’s
website for disturbing e-mails and chart
street traffic to make certain no one is cas-
ing the neighborhood.

From the curb, the Spanish Revival house
is the picture of tranquility—a circular drive,
lovely greenery, gym equipment in back. The
singer has relied on Cohen to keep it this way
since 2006. The price: $500,000 a year.

Protecting clients is an obsession for
Cohen. “He doesn’t have an off switch,”
says Entourage’s Weiss. “I don’t know what
he does to take it easy,” adds Steve Katz,
the entertainment manager. “I’ve been out
with him, and he’s very personable and
funny, but he’s preoccupied a lot of the
time.” Although Cohen dines at a fash-
ionable Hollywood restaurant at least
once a week (his preferred meal: a steak
at Dan Tana’s), the outings are as much
for research as pleasure. He likes to keep
current on Los Angeles nightspots because
the stars he represents frequent them.
“I'm not a scenester; I never have been,”
says Cohen, who'd rather ride his Harley-
Davidson in the hills above Malibu or hang
out at home playing Led Zeppelin on his
Martin acoustic. He has a girlfriend, but
he deflects even innocent queries about
her. “Security,” he often declares, “begins
with anonymity,” and the rule applies just
as much to him as to his charges.

To spend time with Cohen is to enter a
hyperaware world where not everything
is as it seems. During the course of a con-
versation he may hold forth on stalkers,
which in his business are a persistent
threat. “They suffer from erotomania,”
he says, his tone, as always, earnest, almost
scholarly. “They believe that they and the
celebrity they see on-screen or in concert
have a personal relationship. The cause
is linked to low self-esteem. My task is
to determine if a potential for violence
exists.” Or he may discuss the challenges
of working abroad. “I recently had a job
for an American billionaire in Tanza-
nia,” he says. “A few weeks before he was
scheduled to take his family there, drug

a Др wmi araf _

“Well, so much for Internet booking.”

lords gunned down several of his employ-
ees. He asked me to secure the property,
which turned out to be several hundred
thousand acres. It was really a military
operation, and I hired five trained kill-
ers. That’s what was required.”

For all this Cohen is anything but gung
ho. He goes to extraordinary lengths to
diminish the chances of confrontation.
“The trick in my job is to manage risk, not
exacerbate it,” he says. “The goal, always,
is to avoid a violent outcome. What I do is
the opposite of what you see in a movie. In
fact, if I ever had to pull a pistol it would
be an admission of failure. It would mean
I was so far behind that I had been beaten.
My task is to see what a client is up against
and then make sure it doesn’t happen.”

In part, Cohen’s philosophy derives
from common sense, but there is also
something else. “Aaron doesn’t wear his
compassion on his sleeve,” says Katz. “But
as you get to know him it shows up. He’s
an amalgam of a counterterrorist and a
warm, caring person. He sees himself as
the cavalry coming to the rescue. He works
so hard because he empathizes with his cli-
ents.” Adds one of those clients, “He’s not
afraid to show you that he’s vulnerable,
and that actually encourages your trust in
him. Most of these guys think they have to
be 100 percent granite—not him.”

“I come into people’s lives when there
is a lot of fear and doubt,” says Cohen
in a voice that suggests he knows a bit
about such emotions himself. “You’ve got
to be able to relate to them. In this busi-
ness you have to want to help people. If
you don’t, you ought to be doing some-
thing else.”

“The first thing you need to understand
about Aaron is that he is a little Jewish
boy from Beverly Hills,” says his client
Lisa Kline. The stepson of Abby Mann,
the Academy Award-winning screen-
writer of Judgment at Nuremberg, Cohen
grew up not only with money but in the
highest reaches of Hollywood royalty. Ste-
ven Spielberg, Warren Beatty and Tom
Cruise regularly wandered by the house
to discuss scripts. Tony Bennett, Dean
Martin and Frank Sinatra dropped in for
coffee. James Caan was one of his Little
League coaches.

Although Cohen was raised in a rar-
efied realm, he did not enter it until the
age of 10, when his mother, also a screen-
writer, married Mann. From the start, he
never felt he belonged. “My mom and
stepfather were too into their careers and
themselves,” he says. “I was an attention-
seeking kid, and I wasn’t getting any at
home. I couldn’t connect to them, and
I acted out. I got into trouble.” During
his freshman year at Beverly Hills High
School, Cohen absconded with the fam-
ily BMW and charged some $10,000 on
his mother’s credit card. “When my mom
found out what Га done,” he says, “she
sent me to military school, the Robert
Land Academy outside Toronto. I got
a total ass kicking. It was a completely
structured environment—beds made each
morning, no violations, no attitude. But I

found out I loved the structure. In fact,
I found out I excelled at it.”

After a couple of years Cohen returned
to Beverly Hills High School for his last
courses and graduation. Unlike others
in the class of 1994, however, he was not
headed to an Ivy League college or a sum-
mer internship at Creative Artists Agency.
At Robert Land he’d become fixated on
joining the Israeli army, so he bought a
one-way plane ticket to Tel Aviv. “A lot of
Jewish teenagers go to Israel,” says an old
friend, “but not very many go to join the
army. Aaron had something to prove. He
was disgusted with the shallowness of his
life in Beverly Hills. He wanted to find
his own identity.” Cohen puts it more suc-
cinctly: “I was a fucked-up kid looking
for a family.”

Following 14 months of what he calls “a
modern-day version of gladiator school,”
Cohen had acquired an array of lethal
skills—chief among them Krav Maga,
an Israeli hand-to-hand combat tech-
nique that stresses relentless attack. He
had also learned the Israeli art of decep-
tion known as mista'aravim. Working
undercover, he would be able to speak
convincing Arabic and wear the distinctive
red- or blue-checked kaffiyeh. The payoff:
He was accepted not just into the Israeli
army but into Sayeret Duvdevan, roughly
equivalent to the United States Army’s
Delta Force, a rare honor for an Amer-
ican. Duvdevan performs a specific and
dangerous task. “Our single focus was to
undertake stealth counterterrorism opera-
tions in the occupied territories,” Cohen
would later write in Brotherhood of Warriors,
a memoir he co-authored with Douglas
Century. “Every single mission was an
attempt to take down a terrorist leader.
We were not after suicide bombers, but
rather the planners...the command-and-
control of groups like Hamas, Hezbollah
and Islamic Jihad.” The Duvdevan spe-
cializes in serving so-called “terrorist
warrants.” Bluntly put, the unit abducts
murderers and brings them back to Israeli
authorities for interrogation.

Thus it was that two and a half years
out of Beverly Hills High, Cohen was sit-
ting across from the third-ranking figure
in Hamas, at the Palestine Café in East
Jerusalem. Hair dyed blond and a tape
recorder in hand, Cohen passed himself
off as a sympathetic journalist straight
out of UCLA. Armed with only a Beretta
concealed in his boot, he was all charm,
knowing that if he made even the slight-
est false move one of the Hamas leader's
three bodyguards would shoot him. After
receiving a message in a tiny earpiece
that his comrades were in place, Cohen
leaped across the table and beat his quarry
senseless. It was a classic Duvdevan opera-
tion: quick and brutal. The terrorist was
whisked out of the café. Only when it was
over did Cohen realize that much of the
blood that covered him was his own. So
savage was the attack that he’d ripped
open his fists.

Cohen had become, by his own admis-
sion, an “emotional automaton, a pure
fighting machine” able to turn on “an
inner killer—a survival mechanism

inherent in all of us but rarely used in
normal, day-to-day Western society.”

After completing his required one-year
tour, Cohen did not reenlist in the Duvde-
van. He had killed and had witnessed
killing. (A teenage girl died in his arms
in the midst of a horrific terrorist bomb-
ing at the Dizengoff shopping mall.) He
was scared—both of dying and of becom-
ing a monster. He was only 21, but to use
a phrase common in the Israeli military,
his dick was broken—badly. “I didn’t stay
in Israel, because I was burned out,” he
says. “My Israel wasn’t joyful.”

Still, no matter how terrifying the expe-
rience, it had imbued Cohen with not just
a profound feeling of accomplishment
but a sense of belonging. “Israel was my
mother,” he says. “It gave me the atten-
tion I needed and the skills I could use to
cope later in life. I always say I was raised
in Beverly Hills but I grew up in Israel.”

Back in Los Angeles, Cohen was ini-
tially at a loss. “I wanted to do something
with what Га learned in Israel,” he says.
“I didn’t want it to have just been three
years of finding myself. But I didn’t know
what that something was.”

The answer came when Cohen applied
for work with Professional Security Con-
sultants, a southern California firm that
provided bodyguards to celebrities. The
timing was perfect. His first assignment
was to protect Brad Pitt. The then rising
star had arrived at his Hollywood Hills
home one night to be greeted by a stalker
named Athena Rolando. She had broken
into the house, put on his shirt and was
waiting for him in bed. “Brad was com-
pletely freaked out,” says Cohen. “For the
next year and a half I was the team leader
for six guys providing security at his prop-
erty 24 hours a day.”

After three years with PSC, Cohen went
out on his own. From the start he hired
former members of the Duvdevan. “I feel
a duty to give back to Israel,” he says.
More important, Cohen trusts Duvdevan
veterans. “I need to have guys on my team
І сап lean on,” he says. "We do what most
people would consider complex opera-
tions, but the goal is to treat them as if
they are second nature. I can’t do that
unless I know my guys have a certain level
of skill. The Israeli special forces provide
that skill.”

Former members of the Duvdevan also
share Cohen’s philosophy, which puts a
premium on understatement. Except in
rare instances, his men do not make a
show of force. Indeed, at a typical prop-
erty protected by IMS, there seems to be
no security at all. As the maxim-loving
Cohen likes to say, “What they don’t know,
they can’t plan against.”

Over the past several years Cohen has
been trying to nudge his business toward
becoming “a lean, private military com-
pany.” The focus, he says, will be on
training police department SWAT teams
and other small forces. Indeed, he recently
conducted training sessions at two major
nuclear reactors (one in Virginia, the other
in upstate Michigan), training their secu-
rity guards in how to retake the facilities
should a terrorist group ever gain control.

intimacy

v LTI

.... and that's just the
starting position

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“This interests me,” he says, “because you
have to move fast, otherwise the reactor’s
core might melt. You have no time.”

Yet because of Cohen’s ties to such nota-
ble clients as Kate Moss and Rihanna and
the publicity he gained from his associa-
tion with Entourage, it is hard to imagine
him leaving the world of celebrity. “The
irony,” he says, “is that I grew up utterly
despising Hollywood, but not only am I
continuing to work for it, more and more
I’m working in it.”

In a vacant Pasadena warehouse, Aaron
Cohen, an Uzi in one hand and an ammo
clip in the other, kicks open a flimsy door
and shouts, “Hot range!” On cue, mixed-
martial-arts star turned actress Gina Carano,
also armed with an Uzi, follows him into
a narrow passageway adorned with post-
ers depicting ski-masked terrorists. At the
sight of each one, the star of Haywire, Ste-
ven Soderbergh’s forthcoming thriller, fires
a flame-spurting burst. “Keep shooting until
you feel the guy is dead,” Cohen urges.
“Keep shooting.” Carano does. Soon the
floor is carpeted with shell casings.

“Great. Cool,” says Cohen when Carano
emerges from the far end of the course,
and the two enthusiastically bump fists. As
Carano walks off to reload, Cohen remarks,
“When Gina started she didn’t even know
how to hold an instrument. Now she
can flow in a tactical situation, firing her
machine gun at a pretty advanced level.”

On this sunny Wednesday afternoon,
Cohen is deep into coaching Carano for her
role as the lead operative of the fictional
private military force at the center of Hay-
wire. In the picture Soderbergh will attempt
to bring the gritty aesthetic he perfected in
Traffic to the slick world of espionage show-
cased in the Bourne franchise. As technical
advisor, Cohen is in charge of making sure
the cast gives true-to-life performances.
When he’s finished with Carano, he puts
co-stars Channing Tatum and Michael Fass-
bender through their paces.

“God said, ‘We shall make them war-
riors, so warriors they will become,’”
Cohen barks as he instructs the actors in
the proper technique for drawing and hol-
stering their Sig Sauer P228 pistols. “The
first thing is to keep from shooting yourself
in the ass,” he advises. Once they have the
hang of it, he shouts, “Smash and rock,”
and they open fire at targets emblazoned
with the images of hooded malefactors.

“My goal is to give all of them a special-
op training course,” Cohen says as the
men go through their paces. “I want them
to look natural as they move with weap-
ons. I am also giving them an immersion
course in the very intense, emotional
experience of working undercover. A
couple of my guys are following them
everywhere they go, and they have to
e-mail me if they spot the surveillance.
I’ve got them all living in a watered-down
version of the dread and pressure I expe-
rienced in the Israeli military.”

That’s just for starters. “Aaron has
become a key part of my brain trust,” says
Soderbergh. “He’s really part of the core
creative group on Haywire. There's not a

single aspect of the script I haven’t run by
him. When two of the operatives have a
phone conversation, I ask him, ‘How for-
mal should they be, how colloquial?’ I’m
also relying on him to make sure we use
the right technology. I don’t want Gina
carrying a weapon that real operatives
wouldn’t use. Basically, Aaron has been
value added. That’s how I describe peo-
ple I like having around.”

This being the case, it’s no surprise that
when filming begins several weeks later in
Dublin, Ireland, Soderbergh casts Cohen
as an operative and gives him a line. “It’s
one of my favorite bits in the film,” says
the director, who proceeds to enthusi-
astically recite the dialogue uttered by
Cohen’s character, “So what do we know
about the Spaniard, Rodrigo?” Soder-
bergh was fascinated by Cohen’s zest for
the role. “I watched Aaron calibrate him-
self to react to the other actors as he got
into the work. You could see him thinking,
This is an interesting world, one I could
be very interested in. Aaron looks great
on camera, and he’s actually a good actor.
Someplace in there he’s got the timing of a
Catskills comedian. Of course, he can also
rip your lungs out.”

Cohen insists he has no desire to get into
the movie business. He relishes reality, not
make-believe, and within days after the
production wraps he’s back from Europe,
sitting again at his corner table at Kings
Road Cafe, eyes hidden by his wraparound
Ray-Bans. This morning he is obsessing
over a new client, whom he will describe
only as “a Midwestern manufacturer of a
significant cog that’s distributed around
the world.” A former business associate
has threatened the manufacturer. “It was
pretty direct,” says Cohen. “The guy feels
my client ripped off one of his ideas, so he
e-mailed him and said, ‘Stop selling this
product or you won’t ever sell anything
again.’ We’ve outfitted my client and his
kids with global positioning devices, and
cameras have gone up in his home. I’m
running what I call a ‘tentacle operation.’
Not only am I watching my client, but I’ve
got two of my operatives shadowing the
guy who made the threats. He lives in Mel-
bourne, Australia, and they’re following
him 24 hours a day. The purpose is to
determine if he is capable of violence. If he
buys a gun, meets with suspicious people
or gets on a plane headed to my client’s
town, we contact the police.”

A month into the job, the client has paid
IMS $50,000. “He was terribly spooked
when he first called us,” says Cohen. “But
he’s better now.” In the end, this may be all
that IMS, or any other protection agency,
can offer—the reassurance that comes from
knowing every possible measure has been
taken. Of course Cohen also provides some
comforting intangibles. As Soderbergh puts
it, “Aaron reminds me of a line Anthony
Minghella once used to describe Harvey
Weinstein: ‘He’s a bull you’d rather have
running alongside you than at you.’”

у

Vulture
(continued from page 62)

“He kind of likes wearing the black hat,”
one friend of his says. “He prefers wearing
black.” Indeed, sources say Newman usually
dresses in black suits, and some attorneys
refer to him as “the undertaker.” Newman
went to Yale, where he met Lewis “Scooter”
Libby, another student. After graduating,
Newman joined Libby at Columbia Uni-
versity Law School. By several accounts the
two men became friends, and Libby contin-
ued to do legal work for Newman into the
1990s, before joining Vice President Dick
Cheney’s White House staff.

In the 1980s and 1990s, world leaders tried
to break the endless cycle of debt that stran-
gled developing countries. One innovation
was the Brady Plan, named after Nicholas
Brady, who served as Treasury secretary
under presidents Reagan and George H.W.
Bush. In an effort sanctioned by the interna-
tional community, nations working their way
out of debt could negotiate so their old loans
would be repackaged. Newman saw oppor-
tunity. In the early 1990s he began to buy
the debt of impoverished countries and sue
in court to collect. Countries, unlike home
owners, can’t declare bankruptcy; technically
a nation will always owe what it borrows. And
Newman always demanded payment in full.

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Sometimes he looked to Africa, sometimes
Latin America, sometimes Eastern Europe.

Newman called his offshore company
Water Street Bank and Trust. He needed
deep pockets to back him—rich investors who
could fund his aggressive lawsuits and pay
for his purchase of obscure old bonds. Those
investors, though, wanted their names kept
private. That became a problem when he tried
to go after Panama. After the U.S. invasion
in 1989, Panama had begun to work its way
out of debt accumulated during the regime
of General Manuel Noriega. When Newman
sued the country to recover lost funds, Pan-
ama asked for the names of his Water Street
investors. It was a simple enough question,
which the judge ordered answered. “Their
identities were threatened to be exposed,”
a lawyer who was involved in the case says,
“and that enterprise collapsed.”

Rather than disclose his backers, Newman
folded his company and dropped the lawsuit.
“At that point,” says a financier, “Jay realized
that if he was going to do this as a career he
needed to be identified with a firm that wasn’t
embarrassed to say, “Yeah, that’s us!’” Enter
Paul Singer, founder of Elliott Management.

Singer, who would now back Newman,
was an important addition. He is a signifi-
cant contributor to right-wing causes and
is chairman of the board of the Manhattan
Institute, a neoconservative think tank. He

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had the money to fund Newman’s efforts
against third world nations.

Backed by his new financier, Newman
resumed his assault on Panama. Elliott
Management said there would be no nego-
tiations; it wanted to be paid in full. In the
end Panama lost to Newman after all.

The next stop for Newman was Peru,
headed at the time by Alberto Fujimori, a
corrupt president who ruled with the aid of
his feared intelligence chief, Vladimiro Mon-
tesinos. The country was participating in the
Brady Plan. Just when it seemed Peru would
be able to restructure its debt, Newman—or
Elliott Associates, an extremely successful
hedge fund of Elliott Management—began
to buy Peruvian bonds. It wasn’t a huge vol-
ume: $20 million at face value, at 55 cents
on the dollar. Key for Newman’s assault, the
timing coincided with Peru’s restructuring.
As Singer would later testify, Peru would
either “pay us in full or be sued.”

As he fought in court, Newman had a
setback. Mark Cymrot, the lawyer for the gov-
ernment of Peru, was developing a defense.
New York state law had for years outlawed
buying debt solely to sue to collect it. The
judge found against Newman and Elliott.

But Elliott went to the statehouse. If buy-
ing debt to sue was against New York state
law, Elliott would change the law. The firm
launched a campaign in Albany, and Peru hired

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182

a lobbyist to counteract it. “These guys went
to change New York law to essentially elimi-
nate Peru’s defense,” says one lawyer. “We got
engaged in a pretty rigorous lobbying effort.”

The law remained the same, but Elliott
appealed the judge’s verdict and won, forc-
ing Peru to pay the firm nearly $58 million.
Elliott had spent just $11.4 million to buy
the debt. That’s just a taste of how profit-
able vulture capitalism can be.

While Elliott and Newman were plotting their
futures, a mysterious businessman was perfect-
ing a grander version of vulture capitalism. He
was Kenneth Dart, heir to the Dart fortune.
Dart Container Corporation, based in Mich-
igan, is the world’s largest manufacturer of
disposable drinking cups and containers.

No one likes to pay taxes, but Dart hated
paying taxes so much he gave up his country to
avoid it. KENNETH DART FORSAKES U.S. FOR BELIZE
was the headline in the The Wall Street Journal
in March 1994. For a time he was a billionaire
nomad with a 220-foot yacht. He bought citi-
zenship in Belize before settling in the Cayman
Islands, where he became a citizen.

Some say Dart, not Newman, was the true
pioneer of vulture capitalism. “Dart estab-
lished this notion,” one financier tells me, “that
you could stand outside the deal as he did. He
ended up with an enormous settlement with
Brazil and made out famously on it.”

In 1993, when Brazil was restructuring
more than $30 billion in debt, Dart bought
about $1.4 billion worth at a fraction of face
value. He ended up with four percent of
the country’s debt. Instead of accepting Bra-
zil’s partial payment, Dart sued, demanding
full payment. Though he disliked paying
U.S. taxes, Dart wasn’t reluctant to use U.S.

courts. His lawyers chose the federal court
on Pearl Street in lower Manhattan. Eventu-
ally the Brazilians paid. Dart is said to have
pocketed $600 million.

On Grand Cayman, Dart has built a new
town, called Camana Bay, a few miles from
the actual capital. The locals call it Dartville
or Dart Village. In fact, sometimes they call
the entire Caymans the Cay Dart. Dart even
tried to move the seat of the Grand Cayman
government to Camana Bay, away from his-
toric George Town. His office says it offered
the government free land if it would move.
In the end, the government declined.

Meanwhile, the vultures were circling. New-
man began to add large-scale political action
and PR attacks to his operations. One target
was the Republic of the Congo, sometimes
called Congo-Brazzaville. This nation had
huge oil fields and was finally coming out
of a civil war. By 1997 the Republic of the
Congo was one of the world’s most heavily
indebted nations. Newman bought paper
that most people would have thought use-
less. He found a $13 million loan from
1983 that had been made to help the
country build a highway. With eight per-
cent interest over 20 years, the debt was
worth $57 million to Newman. He also
bought a 20-year-old bond for $4.8 mil-
lion. It is unclear what that $4.8 million
was supposed to buy, but the Congo had
agreed to pay eight percent interest on it
as well. With compounding, the bond was
now worth $22 million. Newman cobbled
together $100 million in judgments and
went to courts in the U.K. and the U.S. to
have judges affirm them. Congolese debt
was trading for seven to 10 cents on the

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dollar at the time, so it didn’t cost Newman
much. But it would cost the Republic of the
Congo: $100 million was roughly 10 percent
of the country’s 2002 annual budget.

Newman used his scraps of paper to go
after the Congo in court in Switzerland, Bel-
gium, France, the U.K., the U.S. and Hong
Kong. With his pursuit of the Congolese
government, Newman attained heroic sta-
tus among vultures. “He’s got these people
around him who are kind of groupies,” a
friend of his explains. “They are like his aco-
lytes,” another man says.

Newman tried to freeze, attach or seize
anything belonging to the government of
the Congo. The government tried to keep
a step ahead of him, allegedly resorting to
fraud or straw owners to keep its oil revenue
out of the vultures’ talons.

The vultures set up an intelligence oper-
ation to gather information and pursue
allegations of corruption against the Congo.
Newman supposedly set up an operation in
London to conduct private investigations.

One vulture fund investor described
the cloak-and-dagger operations. “Think
Casablanca,” he said. He told me an “infor-
mation bazaar” tried to dig up dirt on the
leaders of Congo-Brazzaville, and former
CIA station chiefs cooperated. “They’re all
former spooks,” he told me. “Senior guys,
station chiefs.”

Their operator was proud of what he’d
accomplished in gathering information
about Congolese corruption, but he mar-
veled at the cost of digging up the dirt. “This
piece of information, $50,000.” He held out
one hand as he said it. “This piece of infor-
mation, $100,000.” He held out the other
hand. “I get uncomfortable, because if you
want that kind of money, if it's that valuable,
I can’t get anywhere near it.”

Things seemed to get personal between
Newman and the president of the Republic
of the Congo, Denis Sassou Nguesso. New-
man and his investigators tried to prove that
Nguesso was a wastrel who lived luxuriously
instead of paying off his old debts. And they
were right. Newman’s men obtained the
hotel bills for Nguesso’s visit to the United
Nations. The Congo-Brazzaville delegation
spent $295,000 for an eight-night stay at the
Palace Hotel.

The news generated headlines. In a Feb-
ruary 2006 London Times article, Newman
got in a snappy quote. Debt relief might be
okay in some countries, he said, but in other
cases, where there was corruption—like in
the Congo—“the right answers are politi-
cal sanctions and, when warranted, criminal
prosecutions.” At the same time, an off-
shore subsidiary of Elliott filed a lawsuit that
charged the Congo with racketeering. The
subsidiary said the national oil company was
diverting money “into the pockets of pow-
erful Congolese public officials while at the
same time protecting both the oil and oil rev-
enues from seizure by legitimate creditors.”

As usual, the timing of Newman’s attack
was critical. Debt relief was finally becom-
ing a cause célébre. The nation was trying
to get into an international program called
the Heavily Indebted Poor Countries Ini-
tiative, which uses the resources of the IMF,
the World Bank and other agencies to bring
together creditors to forgive debt. Newman,

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it seems, hoped to stop the Congo from get-
ting into the program. One neoconservative
consultant Elliott hired was Ken Adelman,
who may be remembered for his prediction
that attacking Iraq would be a “cakewalk.”
I called Adelman to ask him about Elliott
and what he had done on behalf of the vul-
tures. ^It's all very fuzzy to me," he said. “1
gave some advice to them about the history
of the Congo."

Тһеге was a positive development for
the vultures. As the Iraq war spun out of
control, President George Bush installed
Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul Wol-
fowitz as president of the World Bank.
Wolfowitz—onetime mentor to Scooter
Libby— proved to be a formidable ally for
the vultures in their Congo venture. One
of his efforts as World Bank president
was to attempt to foil Congo-Brazzaville's
efforts to relieve debt. He was convinced
by the vulture funds' allegations of corrup-
tion and opposed the World Bank's experts
and economists, who had already approved
the country's bid for debt relief. Global
Witness, a government watchdog based
in London, had received embarrassing
information about the Congo from Flliott,
and much of that information reached the
World Bank. A spokesman for Elliott denies
that Newman "engaged" or "approached"
the president of the World Bank.

Wolfowitz tells PLAvBov in an e-mail that
"I never heard of Jay Newman until you
asked about him." Wolfowitz says he and
his staff were aware that vultures were
generating information about corruption.
"Members of my staff at the World Bank
may well have met with Newman, with oth-
ers from Elliott Associates or with other
private sector entities," he claims. How
ever Newman's information got to Wol-
fowitz, it got to him. The information the
World Bank had about corruption in the
Congo was the same intelligence uncovered
by Newman's people at Elliott.

In the end, none of it mattered to New-
man, because he won anyway. The Republic
of the Congo paid up. The country settled
with most of the aggressive vulture funds
at 55 cents on the dollar, but Newman and
his financier at Elliott scored better than
the others. Apparently by agreeing to stop
providing reporters with negative infor-
mation about the ruling family, Newman
is said to have collected about $90 million
from the Congo. He had paid less than
$20 million for the old debt. His biggest
cost may have been for lawyers, private eyes
and lobbyists.

While the Republic of the Congo was “іп
play"—as the vultures call it—Liberia was
trying to make a comeback. As it did, an
investor named Hans Humes watched.
Humes, head of Greylock Capital, spent
much of his childhood in Africa. He's a
self-described political liberal who advo-
cates for debt relief. While his firm is
sometimes aggressive, it more often tries
to negotiate. "People recognize that I'm
basically a bleeding heart, but I'm also
practical," he says. “Our business runs and
is based on maintaining good relationships
with countries."

His Park Avenue trading room has seven
desks with Bloomberg terminals. This is
where old foreign debts are bought and
sold. One of the traders pulled up Afri-
can bonds on the terminal and showed
their prices, running his fingers down
the list: “Ghana, Gabon, Nigeria, Congo-
Brazzaville, Seychelles."

Humes has been in the sovereign debt
business since the 1980s. He sometimes
helps organize creditors, as he did in Libe-
ria's case. In one way, the country looked
like a success story. President Taylor was
on trial in the Special Court for Sierra
Leone in The Hague. A new president was
in office. There was hope in the air. Libe-
ria had joined the Heavily Indebted Poor
Countries Initiative.

Nathaniel Barnes was, until recently, Libe-
ria's ambassador to the U.S. He tells me
Liberia knows it must repay its debts. “We
were aggressively engaging our creditors,"
he says, “and saying, Let's talk. Let's find a
reasonable solution to this issue.” "

Many investors, like Humes, participated
willingly. *Frankly, the Liberia deal was
fine," Humes says. "Relieve the debt bur-
den on Liberia and it opens up potential
for a decent period of growth."

Тһе U.S. government wrote off almost
$400 million in debt, and the Bush White
House announced its support of the negotia-
tions by private creditors. It was hard to find
anyone who disapproved of the effort to give
Liberia a new lease on economic life.

Even some vultures stayed away. “For me,
to go after Liberia, let's just say it isn't my
cup of tea,” one man tells me. “It has really,
truly been decimated by civil war, a catas-
trophe. They are trying to pull themselves
out of it." Wolfowitz doesn't think people
іп a country like Liberia “should have to
pay for the debts of their ruthless leaders,
which were not used to benefit them and
were even used to oppress them."

Liberia seemed safe. But vulture inves-
tor Eric Hermann had that 2002 judgment
from a New York court against Liberia,
from back when the country couldn't hire
a lawyer. Hermann's company had trans-
ferred the judgment to another company
in 2007. The company that took over was
Hamsah International, a mysterious firm
based in the British Virgin Islands. It's
hard to know who actually controls Ham-
sah. The lawyer who apparently handled
the transfer, Dennis Hranitzky of the law
firm Dechert, also represented Jay New-
man. In 2009, just months after the world
thought Liberia had solved its problems,
Hamsah and another firm, Wall Capital,
went to court in London to affirm that
old judgment against Liberia. People were
outraged. Humes says he can't be positive
who the men behind the offshore funds
really are, but he suspects he knows. "They
were at the table," he says. "They were
part of the negotiations. Their concerns
were addressed. The deal was crafted to
respond to their interests. When it came
down to it, they took the part that had
judgments on it and moved to the U.K.
to enforce it."

Hamsah hasn't collected against Liberia
yet, but the damage is done. “They аге hold-
ing up a billion dollars of aid to Liberia,"

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Humes says. “There is no way they can jus-
tify it. They can’t defend what they did.”

“You can’t pay pennies on the dollar for
an obligation and then expect to collect 100
percent for it,” says Barnes. “To me that’s
just morally wrong.” Liberia, emerging
from war, did its best to play by the rules
yet ended up under assault. Barnes says he’s
not surprised that the identity of those who
control the offshore companies remains a
secret. “The whole nature of what they are
doing is immoral,” he says.

Vulture capitalists believe they are a force for
good. One I spoke with is unapologetic. His
main regret is that he can’t talk publicly for
legal reasons. “Some would say, ‘Come on,
dude, you're a vulture, a predator,” he says.

“I have no problem |
sleeping at night with
what I do.” The vul-
tures shed sunlight
on corrupt regimes,
he tells me, and cites
Congo-Brazzaville
as one such exam-
ple. “They can’t pay
these claims because
they’re stealing the
money,” he says. “No
one has done more
than the vulture
funds to document
and prove the theft
that everyone knows
is going on. We’re
the only ones who
have the financial
means, motivation
and sophistication
to unravel incred-
ibly sophisticated
schemes.”

I ask an activist
about the vultures’
claims that they are
the sole force against
corruption. “That’s
arrogant at best and
stupid at worst,” says
Tamara Gaw, a law-
yer at TransAfrica
Forum, a nonprofit
advocacy group
based in Washing-
ton, D.C. Gaw has
been monitoring vulture funds since 2007,
and she thinks what the vultures are doing
is little better than blackmail. “This is a clas-
sic case of blaming the victim,” she says.
“Vulture funds don’t expose corruption,
they facilitate and exploit it.”

Humes laughs at the idea that vultures
are a force for good. “The thing is, don’t
be pompous about it. I mean, you’re buy-
ing debt at 20 cents on the dollar. You’re
gambling that if you do enough with these
things you can get paid well. You’re not
doing God’s work. None of us are.”

Ет1102 Y

Secaucus, NH 07094

In May 2009 a freshman congressman from
upstate New York introduced legislation to
Congress. Eric Massa's bill—the Judgment

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Act—was, according to activists who fol-
lowed it, designed to help vulture funds in
their latest siege, this time against Argen-
tina. Massa said it was introduced to help
American investors.

This attack would bring together
Newman's and Dart's operations. The
vultures’ biggest play of all had evolved
into a coordinated assault against Argen-
tina's government.

Kenneth Dart had bought Argentinean
bonds during the crisis in 2001. He used
a U.S. federal court to sue Argentina and
soon won a judgment worth $750 million.
Meanwhile, Newman still has more than
$1 billion in judgments against the Argen-
tinean government. Dart is still holding
out for full payment.

The Argentina debt issue ended up in

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Washington thanks to a group established
to get the U.S. government to help vulture
funds. Shortly after American Task Force
Argentina was founded, in 2006, Jay New-
man lashed out at the country. "Argentina
has the ability to pay what it owes. It just
doesn't want to," he said. "Argentina is like
a drug addict. Its drug is money."

Тһе real prize was a new law that would
bring political force to bear on their col-
lection efforts. Massa had an affinity for
Argentina, he said, having lived there as a
child. If Massa's bill passed it would have
stripped away Argentina's access to U.S. cap-
ital and brought the entire weight of the U.S.
financial system to bear on the country.

“The legislation was written by vulture
funds to benefit vulture funds," Gaw claims.
When Massa introduced the bill, Gaw says,

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it was easy to recognize where it came from.
"We called it the Paul Singer relief act."

Тһе head of the Council on Hemi-
spheric Affairs wrote Representative
Massa, "Why would you sponsor a bill that
mostly benefits a handful of ethically dubi-
ous, primarily non-American investors at
the expense of the Argentine people? Like
the vultures for whom they are named,
they seek only to profit off of Argentina's
economic misery."

In March 2010, the law's chances col-
lapsed. Massa was involved in a bizarre
scandal involving congressional aides and
resigned from Congress. Gaw opened a
bottle of Cardhu single malt scotch, and
people from her office gathered around
to toast. The Paul Singer relief act was as
dead as Massa's career. Or so it seemed.

But Elliott doesn't
give up easily. A
month after Massa
resigned, with the
law dead at the fed-
eral level, the firm
hired lobbyists in
Albany to push for
a state version of the
same law. American
Task Force Argentina
announced hear-
ings before the state
banking committee
in April 2010, and
Newman's lawyer
on the issue, Dennis
Hranitzky, testified
in front of lawmak-
ers. (As outspoken
as they might be in
front of legislators,
Elliott and Newman
declined to comment
for PLAYBOY.)

As for Dart, he
may well stay out of
the political side. In
a statement, his office
told PLAYBOY that
“Dart is not a vul-
ture capitalist.” He's
still safe in the Cay-
man Islands.

Advocates say leg-
islation may be the
only way to put vul-
tures out of business.
In the U.S., Representative Maxine Waters
pushed the Stop Vulture Funds Act to out-
law certain types of lawsuits. (The vulture
funds claim the legislation was drafted by
lobbyists for Congo-Brazzaville.) So far the
bill hasn't passed. In London, Parliament
passed a law to limit the vulture funds’ abil-
ity to pursue debt in the U.K. But before
the law had passed, a U.K. court awarded
$20 million to two secretive vulture funds
hounding Liberia for 30-year-old loans.

The British law may be a setback for the
vultures. But it does not spell the end of
business for men like Jay Newman and Ken-
neth Dart. Vulture funds can still use courts
and politicians elsewhere, wherever they
launch their next attack.

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190

LAST DAYS
(continued from page 76)

nights of unsullied, innocent pleasure,
back to when the little park was our ref-
uge, together apart from the ugly world of
the day’s toil. She drives offin her Mustang,
in her tight jeans and disappointment, as I
walk down another street, alone in the world
more profoundly than seems possible for a
free man.

But I can never be free again. I carry inside
me the torture of places hidden away behind
tall fences and obscured by euphemisms. I
have been bent into shapes that simply will not
fit into the world outside captivity. The free
world moves too fast and leaves me breathless
too much of the time to ever relax. Strangers
keep walking up behind me and splintering
my space, my security zone. Phony tough guys
issue threats they have no intention of carry-
ing out but that I cannot ignore.

I walk down miles of quiet residential
streets by myself in the tumultuous 73 days
of my last journey through the free world.
I like the isolation and reduced pace off the

boulevards of south Los Angeles County,
away from the glaring lights and crush of
bodies. Inside the fences, nothing much
moves faster than a fast walk, and nothing
is louder than a loudmouth’s voice. On the
outside, cars seem to fly by me; their roaring
engines and buzzing tires like wild beasts. I
spend much of the time ducking and jump-
ing out of the way. It is unnerving.

There is also the problem of my disloca-
tion in the flow of time. After committing a
series of violent and inexplicable acts, I was
taken out of the normal course of events.
Everyone I knew before I hurled myself out
of real life has moved on to different spots
in the continuum. I am stuck in a surreal
beforetime, still an angry boy fighting old
demons, still just turned 16.

The world has moved on and left me
behind. Everyone who spends enough time
as a ward of the state’s penal institutions
devolves and degenerates. I am no excep-
tion to this iron law. On the outside, I can’t
use a knife at the dinner table because every
time I pick one up it feels like a weapon
in my hand. When I take a shower, I wash
my boxers and socks with my bar of soap
as if the laundry exchange’s limitations

‘And the last boyfriend paid for your boob job, and then
you dumped him...!”

have followed me out through the fences.
I wake up at the wrong times and forget to
go to bed when I ought to. The more accu-
rate way to describe my situation is that the
world stayed in its place while I fell down
through a rip in the fabric of time. When I
was pushed back through to the real world,
a thread of the netherworld attached itself
to me, a thread that won’t let me go.

I spend my last night in the land of the liv-
ing, the last night I breathe unchained air,
the last night I wander down darkened streets
absorbed in lonely colloquies with parked cars,
searching for hidden stars, unaware of the sig-
nificance of my life, of life itself, before I end
my own life as surely as I end another man’s
life. I feel the crisp air of a February night.
The smooth grooved concrete of the 91 free-
way runs under the car, a distant, blurred
river. The old Pontiac’s prow bobs into the
oncoming night, into the black current, its
radio playing old rock and roll; the glare of
the streetlights flashes across the chipped paint
of the dented hood and then across my lap.

Ten thousand seven hundred and ninety-
two nights ago, I am oblivious to everything
around me. I am simply, merely ferocious,
stupendously and stupidly so. In a fit of
inexcusable barbarism, I punch and kick a
man to death because his words hurt me. I
cannot handle insults or challenges, and I
react violently. It is programmed into me,
coded in blood and training.

This is not something I am proud of; this is
the part of my life I most desperately wish I
could undo. I cannot, and I must live with all
the wrong I have created. My every waking
moment is a jarring reminder of my shame.
Murder is not simply the taking of another’s
life; it is the negation of all that is right, the
nullification of what makes us human.

The scenes that fill my memory and flow
out of my pen do not exist any longer. Pontiacs
don’t push against the wind, and angry teen-
agers with bottles of warm Jose Cuervo Gold
between their legs don’t cup their cigarettes
against the cool gusts of open car windows,
setting off trails of orange-red sparks.

Decades later, I set down my pen and take
off my headphones. A couple of hours have
passed during which I was not here, not
trapped in the poisonous amber of an angry
lost boy who could not let his guard down, who
would not let an insult pass unanswered.

In these moments of release, I run toward
tall, stunning Gail and pull her close. I shed
tears of joyous release or shout something
triumphant. Arlene is still my beautiful,
naive neighbor with a secret crush on me.
Brenda gets her watch back, repaired. When
she looks into my eyes, she sees a future of
freedom for both of us.

No one ever predicted freedom for me. I
was always voted most likely to die young, to
implode, to vanish behind bars. I managed
to live down to expectations magnificently.

So now I turn in for the night, another
night inside a concrete box too small for
dreams, until tomorrow when I pick up this

pen, again.

Make someone happy with
a Gift Subscription to

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OBSOLETE WEAPONS

NEW GUN-RIGHTS ADVOCATES DILUTE THE NRA’S POWER

BY DANIEL WATTENBERG

Gura, the civil liberties lawyer who successfully
argued District of Columbia v. Heller before the
Supreme Court in 2008. The landmark case ruled parts
of Washington, D.C.’s sweeping gun ban unconstitutional.
“Class project” was a National Rifle Association lobby-
ist’s dismissive tag for the legal campaign designed by an
implausible collection of libertarian lawyers and policy
intellectuals—Cato Institute chairman Robert Levy and his
Heller co-counsels
Gura and Clark
Neily chief
among them—
to reinvigorate
Second Amend-
ment protection
of individuals’
right “to keep
and bear arms.”

The NRA, of
course, is the lob-
bying colossus that
for decades has
waged take-no-
prisoners political
warfare in defense
of Second Amend-
ment rights. And
despite Demo-
cratic domination
in Washington, the
NRA has never
seemed stronger.

In recent years it

has achieved a suc-

cession of victories,

such as the right to carry in national parks and a prohibition
against higher health insurance premiums for gun owners.

Yet the NRA's aura of invincibility masks a future threat-
ened by political marginalization. For decades the NRA
has derived its political strength from the fragility, real or
imagined, of our gun rights. But today—thanks largely
to the deliberate, disciplined legal strategy of the class
project—those rights have never looked more secure.

In Heller, the Supreme Court affirmed an individual’s right
to an immediately operable handgun for self-defense in the
home. In this past summer’s sister case, McDonald v. Chicago,
the Court extended the Second Amendment rights recog-
nized in Heller to every state and city in the country. In Palmer
v. District of Columbia, a follow-up now pending in U.S. district
court, lead counsel Gura is challenging the constitutionality
of D.C.’s ban on carrying handguns for self-defense out-
side the home. Should Palmer ultimately reach the Supreme
Court, the Heller majority opinion offers hints of success.

The modern NRA was forged in a leadership struggle

Te “class project.” The taunt still rankles Alan

that pitted a bloc of insurgent gun-rights fundamentalists
against ап old guard of outdoorsmen attuned to the organi-
zation’s traditional concerns: safety training, marksmanship
and hunting. Ever since the insurgents wrested power in
1977, the gun lobby has fed on fear—gun owners’ (often
justifiable) suspicion that the true goal of “gun grabbers,”
whatever their stated intentions, is the blanket prohibition of
guns in private hands. The NRA's greatest political triumphs
have been bound up in these fears. In 1982, for example,
it poured money
into a campaign
to recast Califor-
nia’s Proposition
15, labeled a gun
freeze by support-
ers, as a de facto
handgun ban.
The NRA har-
vested 300,000
new voters
(largely through
gun stores) and
defeated both
the ballot ini-
tiative and the
Democrats’ pro-
gun-control
gubernatorial
candidate.

As NRA oppo-
nents matured,
they gradually
bowed to political
reality, defer-
ring indefinitely
the dream of a

nationwide handgun ban. Still, the NRA managed to frame
even modest measures such as the 1993 Brady bill and the
1994 Assault Weapons Ban as piecemeal prohibition—the
incrementalism of gun grabbers flexible in tactics but
unbending in principle.

Now Heller and its suite of derivatives have rendered
obsolete the gun lobby’s ever-reliable bogeymen—across-
the-board disarmament of law-abiding civilians. Its loss
presages the end of the NRA era in gun politics.

As the main theater of gun-rights activism has shifted from
the political trenches to the federal courts, the NRA's trade-
mark alarmism and macho messaging have been eclipsed
by the class project’s patient legal tactics and media-friendly
air of inclusivity. To wit, for the Heller parent case, Parker v.
District of Columbia, Robert Levy and Clark Neily assembled
a demographically diverse roster of six plaintiffs—three men
and three women, four of them Caucasian and two African
American. The top-billed Shelly Parker is an inner-city black
woman who sought a gun to defend herself from dangerous

enemies she acquired as а neighborhood
anticrime activist. Another point of con-
trast: The current face of the NRA is
Chuck Norris; the current face of the class
project is Palmer lead plaintiff Tom Palmer,
an openly gay man who believes his hand-
gun saved his life when he brandished it
to deter an attack by a gang of men utter-
ing antigay slurs and death threats.

Although the NRA eventually helped
assemble an amicus brief to the Supreme
Court in Heller, it undermined the case
throughout its early development. It tried,
variously, to talk the lawyers out of pro-
ceeding with the suit, to co-opt it through
procedural consolidation with a copycat
suit of its own and to render it irrelevant
by urging congressional action to kill the
gun restrictions being challenged.

In explanation of its early resistance,
the NRA maintains it honestly feared
defeat in the Supreme Court at a time
before automatic Second Amendment ally
Samuel Alito had succeeded Sandra Day
O’Connor, an unreliable swing vote. Levy,
for one, takes them at their word. But gun-
rights message boards have seethed with a
darker interpretation: The NRA tried to
kill Heller to save itself. Whether
the NRA acted sincerely or cyni-
cally doesn’t really matter. It had
sound reasons to fear victory as
well as defeat, because either
outcome was bound to upset
the gun-rights status quo, and
the pre-Heller status quo suited
NRA interests ideally.

Blanket handgun bans like
those overturned by Heller
and McDonald were already
outliers in the U.S. If any-
thing, the preponderance of
state and local firearm laws
are permissive and have been
trending more so—for exam-
ple, 44 states have Second
Amendment-like protections
in their constitutions. On the federal
level, no major new gun-control mea-
sures have passed since Brady and the
Assault Weapons Ban. The latter quietly
expired in 2004, and Democrats have
shown little inclination to reinstate it.

In short, gun-rights protections won
democratically had already surpassed
what the Heller and McDonald rulings
belatedly guaranteed constitutionally.
Underlying these legislative gains was a
shift in American public opinion in the
КА direction. Back in the 1960s atti-
tudes toward handgun bans were about
evenly split. These days overwhelming
majorities oppose such bans. Similar
majorities believe the Second Amend-
ment protects an individual’s right to
keep and bear arms.

7

Charlton Heston |

But these democratic gains were
susceptible to the vagaries of popular
opinion, both sudden mood swings of
the kind that followed the Columbine
school shootings and more meaningful
shifts tied to longer-term factors such as
crime rates. As long as these rights were
in perpetual jeopardy, NRA political
muscle was their indispensable guard-
ian. Heller, however, has insulated basic,
broadly popular gun rights against voter
volatility and legislative reversal.

At the same time, the Heller majority
also left plenty of leeway for legislated
restrictions on who can carry what
kind of firearms where—implicitly
countenancing, for example, limits on
“dangerous and unusual weapons” and
the exclusion of guns from “sensitive
places” such as “schools and govern-
ment buildings.” The problem for the
NRA here is that the public support it
enjoys in its opposition to handgun bans
falls off precipitously on a range of spe-
cific limits, including waiting periods,
which 86 percent of the public favored
in a 2008 CNN/Opinion Research poll,
and semiautomatic handgun bans, which
55 percent of the public supported in a
2007 ABC News poll.

In fighting many of these limits post-

Heller, an increasingly marginalized
NRA will find itself squeezed into the
role of Second Amendment purist, stuck
defending less popular and less galva-
nizing positions—and obliged to defend
them strictly on their individual merits.
In other words, it will no longer be able
to frame them as forward defense of
imperiled handgun rights. Already, the
NRA seems to be groping for political
relevance. On the website for its 2010
voter-registration drive, Trigger the Vote,
these were the best reasons it could come
up with for gun owners to register:

Hurricane Katrina Aftermath—Gun
Confiscations: This refers to New Orleans
mayor Ray Nagin’s sweeping confiscation
of legal civilian guns in Katrina’s chaotic
aftermath. Given that the city already
settled a lawsuit with the NRA back in
2008, agreeing to return the guns seized
in 2005, this gun grab held little promise
as a campaign issue in 2010.

Support Our Heroes in the Military:
Why? “The men and women of our
armed forces are fighting to protect those
27 words in our Constitution that give
us the right to bear arms.” Protect them
from whom? Those who would
prohibit guns in airports or
deny them to spousal abusers?

The UN Global Gun Grab:
The threat evoked here is a
potential UN treaty governing
the international small-arms
trade that would sneakily insti-
tute a domestic gun ban. As a
prod to voter mobilization, it
smacked of desperation. There
is, for starters, no such treaty. If
and when there is, it’s not clear
it would attempt to circumvent
the Second Amendment. If it
did, it’s hard to see how the
Obama administration could
gain the two thirds Senate
supermajority needed to ratify
it. And if ratified, it would never survive
constitutional challenge.

If this bare cupboard is any preview of
a new-era NRA, the organization’s oppo-
nents can breathe easier. Sure, the NRA
will still have a voice. It can reinvent
itself as a (selective) civil liberties gadfly,
preset to argue for literal, absolute and
uninflected readings of settled Second
Amendment rights—an ACLU for guns.
But the NRA’s days as an intimidating
force on the national political scene are
numbered. After all, ACLU opposition
doesn’t make political opponents tremble
with fear; ACLU support makes political
allies tremble with fear.

Daniel Wattenberg is a former editor at The
Washington Times.

FORUM

THE UNITED STATES OF ABSTINENCE

HOW SAYING NO BECAME A DISTINCTLY AMERICAN PRACTICE

BY JESSICA WARNER

n no place other than America has the idea of

abstinence—whether from food, drink, drugs or sex—

taken root so deeply. Your federal tax dollars are currently
being used to tell kids to put off sex until they enter into a
“biblical marriage relationship.” The 1980s gave us Nancy
Reagan and her antidrug mantra “Just say no.” A cen-
tury earlier, Anthony Comstock crusaded to outlaw smut,
penny dreadfuls and contraceptives, while Frances Wil-
lard led America’s women in a fight against demon rum.

There have been so many crusades it is easy to forget

that at one time, in the 17th and 18th centuries, abstinence
meant only one thing to Americans: no sex until marriage.
The idea that people should abstain from
all other vices first appeared in the 1830s.
What began as a campaign against dis-
tilled spirits suddenly morphed into a
campaign against all forms of alcohol
and then against all other “stimulants” 一
tea and coffee, pickles and spices, meats
and apple pie, fancy clothes and double
entendres, narcotics and soft mattresses,
and, last but not least, sex with oneself.

Cultural historians often conclude
that America's many abstinence move-
ments are a by-product of evangelical
Protestantism. They are right—up to a
point. Being born again does encourage
believers to make a radical break with old
vices. But the touchstone for abstinence
in America is not so much evangelicalism
as a doctrine variously known as Chris-
tian perfection, sanctification, the second
blessing or holiness. "То believe in Christian perfection is to
believe you can overcome sin in its entirety. This necessar-
ily involves the believer in a monumental struggle against
temptation for a guarantee of a place in heaven.

Christian perfection and abstinence are mutually reinforc-
ing concepts of extreme behavior. The first is a declaration
of all-out war on sin, the second the clearest possible proof
you are winning that war. The stronger a church's commit-
ment to Christian perfection, the more likely it encourages
abstinence. Among modern evangelicals, the Pentecostals
have the strongest commitment to Christian perfection
and the highest rate of teetotalism, reaching 70 percent.
In contrast, Baptist churches vary in their commitment to
perfection, and their overall rate of teetotalism, under 55
percent, is correspondingly lower.

It was Americans who made the link between abstinence
and Christian perfection. In Britain, where the concept of
this perfection originated with John Wesley and the Meth-
odists, abstinence has never been an especially popular or
obvious virtue. Wesley proscribed only two substances—
distilled spirits and tobacco—and was otherwise skeptical
of abstinence for abstinence's sake. “Our religion does not
lie in doing what God has not enjoined," he wrote, "or
abstaining from what he hath not forbidden."

One major reason abstinence became so deeply rooted
in America is the boundless faith Americans place in the

individual. Abstainers do not blame society for their
failings; they blame themselves. It's a seductive proposi-
tion: If individuals can set themselves right, everything
else will fall into place. Alcoholics Anonymous pays hom-
age to this principle when it counsels members to stop
blaming "conditions" and instead accept the "need to
change ourselves to meet conditions."

'The idea that individuals can do anything they set their
mind to is not only the great selling point of evangelical
Protestantism, it is also an article of faith among leftist social
activists who believe age-old problems can be eradicated.
This was most notably true in the 1830s and 1840s, when

Christian perfection and abstinence were
leftist virtues, appealing to abolitionists
such as Charles Grandison Finney and
feminists such as Lucretia Mott.
'The person who did the most to sell
the idea of Christian perfection was
Phoebe Palmer, a revivalist who first rose
to prominence in 1843 with the publi-
cation of The Way of Holiness. In it she
modified the doctrine in two subtle but
ultimately crucial ways: She dropped
all references to radical social reforms,
rendering it politically neutral, and she
popularized abstinence as the shortest
possible path to Christian perfection.
Palmer's brand of holiness was enor-
mously influential. It served as the
inspiration for Pentecostal churches that
got their start in the late 19th and early
20th centuries. These were, in their
early days, wonderfully strict, agonizing over tobacco,
shirt collars and ties, Coca-Cola and “other cold drinks"
(“I hope none of our people are guilty of drinking such
things, but if they are I hope they won't do it anymore"),
coffee and chewing gum ("This is not a test of member-
ship, but our people should not use it").

Since Palmer's time, evangelicals' list of taboos has drastically
shrunk, so much so that it is now possible for a Pentecostal
like Sarah Palin to pass herself off as а “normal Joe Six-Pack
American." When the Southern Baptist Convention recently
attempted to reaffirm its "total opposition to the manufac-
turing, advertising, distributing and consuming of alcoholic
beverages," its younger members objected, complaining that
the resolution needlessly "draws a line in the sand."

For the modern evangelical, abstinence effectively means
one thing only: saying no to sex outside marriage. There
is a certain irony in all this, for in drawing the line at the
sins of the sexual revolution, modern evangelicals have,
quite despite themselves, returned to the status quo ante,
that is, to the looser moral code of America before the great
evangelical revivals of the 1800s. Тһе interesting question
is whether the list of taboos will continue to shrink and, if
so, what will be the next thing to go.

Jessica Warner is author of All or Nothing: A Short History of
Abstinence in America.

FORUM

READER RESPONSE

BETTER PART OF VALOR
I recently returned from a tour in
Kandahar, Afghanistan and thought I
would share a photo a friend took of
me that parallels one that appeared in

Packin’ in Afghanistan and Vietnam (inset).

PLAYBOY in the early 1970s of a G.I. on

patrol in Vietnam. The rifle I’m holding

is an AKM captured from the Taliban.
Eric Roberts
Edmonton, Alberta

My wife mails the new issue of PLAYBOY
to me each month from Virginia after
tagging the articles she likes. Thank you
for your support from the home front.

Name withheld
Iraq

You’re fortunate to have a woman like
that waiting for you. But be discreet with the
magazine, as General Order No. 1, issued by
U.S. Central Command in December 2000,
forbids the possession by troops in Iraq or
Afghanistan of “pornographic or sexually
explicit” material. The U.S. Postal Service
also forbids mailing to the fronts “any mat-
ter depicting nude or seminude persons.”
These policies exist, commanders say, because
such material might offend the local popu-
lation and make it harder to keep the peace.
Depending on the demeanor of the CO who
discovers contraband, a soldier could earn
extra duty or worse.

After nine years in Afghanistan, Cana-
dian soldiers deployed outside the wire
have developed a custom by which out-
going troops leave their magazines
behind. Upon arriving here, my crew
and I were disheartened to discover a
box full of tabloids, better-living journals
and men’s health magazines. If we were
concerned about our health or quality of
life we probably wouldn’t be over here. I
have made an effort to replenish our col-
lection with magazines such as PLAYBOY

that remind us what we're fighting for,
but it’s not easy. If you could assist in any
way, care packages are welcome.

Name withheld

Afghanistan

Like its U.S. counterpart, Canada Post

does not allow “printed matter prejudicial
to public order or offensive to religion or
morality” to be mailed to Afghanistan or
“items offensive to Muslim culture” to Iraq.
A spokesman for the Canadian Forces says
troops are allowed to possess sexual material
as long as they are discreet, but would prefer
they didn’t because of the risk of offending
residents of the “host” nation.

I work for a private contractor in
Iraq and Afghanistan. My mother sent
a care package with copies of PLAYBOY.
They were confiscated, and I was repri-
manded. Not only may I be out of a job,
but I lost four issues. Kind of makes you
wonder why we're here.

Aaron Vogel
Apple Valley, California

CAN THE CAMERA LIE?

As a 27-year veteran of street patrol
work, I am encouraged by Martin Preib’s
observations in August (“Life on Cam-
era”) about the ambiguity cops face every
day. This past summer a website posted
squad-car footage taken two years ago
during my arrest of a man in an inci-
dent involving the use of a firearm. This
selectively edited footage caused me to
be maligned online. When our depart-
ment installed dashboard cameras 15
years ago, I was one of the few deputies
in favor of the “sergeant in the trunk,”
telling my co-workers it could save their
ass. Now I’m not so sure. Society has

"1050 Taie '

Deputies climbed a gate to enter the home.

every right to expect officers to per-
form their duties in a lawful manner. But
when the citizenry uses tools intended to
protect all parties to wrongfully attack

officers, the incentive to put your ass on
the line is greatly diminished. A society
that makes war with its police had better
make friends with its criminals.

Darren Murphy

Atascadero, California

You can view the edited footage of the

arrest at kcen.tv. The commentators focus on
the constitutionality of Murphy and his fel-
low deputies entering the suspect’s home after
arresting him in the front yard.

THE PARTY CONTINUES
Thank you, PLAYBOY, for your nega-
tive commentaries in September on the
Tea Party. They energized this Texas

87799 2d 4
Тһе Tea Party faithful pledge allegiance.

mother of two to go to a meeting. I had
no idea what I was missing. I will be
out yelling insanely in the oddest gar-
ments I can find while my kids hold
inappropriate signs.
Rebecca Horton
Bellevue, Texas

Taxes and big government have been
around forever. They’re not what the
Tea Party is about. It’s about someone
other than a white person occupying the
presidency. It’s also about the fact that a
majority of people reject the movement’s
brand of conservatism, which should be
called repressivism.

Rich Sirko
Toledo, Ohio

The Tea Party is filled with people
who are led to believe that if you are
educated you must be one of those elit-
ists responsible for our current crisis.
The Republicans encouraged this idea
as soon as George W. Bush took office.

Robert Prado
Irving, Texas

E-mail via the web at letters.playboy.com.
Or write: 680 North Lake Shore Drive,
Chicago, Illinois 60611.

Packing Heat

NEW YORK—A 445-page list released by the
NYPD of people licensed to carry concealed
weapons includes familiar names such
as Sean Hannity, Fox News chief Roger
Ailes, Howard Stern,
Don Imus and Donald
Trump. News outlets
requested the list after
an online news story
reported that a growing
number of Wall Street
bankers and traders
were seeking permits.

Just a Few Questions

REGINA, SASKATCHEWAN—Warning that “every
word” of their responses might be analyzed,
police investigating a triple homicide asked
neighbors to fill out forms with questions
such as “Did you have any involvement in
this murder?” “If you were going to con-
duct the investigation, how would you do
it?” and “If you were asked to contribute

е.

ма‏ کے

money іп order to pay for the therapy of
the victim’s relatives, how much would
you pay?” The form also asked residents to
detail their activities over a six-day period.
Police say they were just being thorough.

Relative Guilt

LOS ANGELES—For the first time, police
have used a controversial test to find
a suspect by tracing his DNA through
family members. Detectives investigating
the killings of 10 people over 25 years
found genetic evidence left at crime
scenes that indicated a convict named
Christopher Franklin was closely related
to the killer. This led police to his father,
Lonnie Franklin Jr., whom they charged
after obtaining a DNA sample from a
discarded slice of pizza. While only Cal-
ifornia and Colorado specifically allow
police to use “familial”
searches, prosecu-
tors elsewhere are
clamoring for

the tool. An

«3

у"

Injustice Served

SOUTH JAKARTA, INDONESIA—Three years
ago a judge acquitted the editor of
PLAYBOY Indonesia of violating inde-
cency laws, noting the now-defunct
magazine contained no nudity or
other material that could be consid-
ered illegal. An appeals court upheld
the ruling. But this past July a local
prosecutor claimed the country's
supreme court had informed him, a
year after the fact, that it had secretly
overturned the verdict. Despite
a notation on the court's online
summary of the case that reads
"prosecution rejected," he demanded
Erwin Arnada serve his two-year sen-
tence. Meanwhile, members of the
Islamic Defenders Front (left) vowed
to bring the "moral terrorist" to jus-
tice. Fearing for his life, Arnada went
into hiding but later agreed to surren-
der while his lawyers try to appeal.
“This isn't about PLAYBOY," he says.
"This is about freedom of speech and
freedom of the press in Indonesia."
The Committee to Protect Journalists
called on the court to reverse its deci-
sion, and Тһе Wall Street Journal
noted that if Indonesia's president
wants to boast about his nation's free
press, "he'll have to start standing up
for men like Erwin Arnada."

ACLU lawyer cautions the technique
"has the potential to invade the pri-
vacy of a lot of people."

Porn vs. the Man

Several obscenity investigations launched
during the Bush administration have
been resolved without fireworks. Adult
DVD Empire paid

a $75,000 fine for т 7
mailing four hard- 1 m
core films, including
Extreme Tit Torture
18. Іп two other
cases, the Justice
Department agreed
to move trials to
friendlier venues—in
one, from Montana
to New Jersey, and
in the other, which
involved Milk Nym-
phos and Storm Squirters 2, from
Alabama to D.C., where the defendants
were acquitted for lack of evidence.

When а man sits down іп pleated
pants, the pull of the fabric makes
it Look as if he’s erect. When
well-endowed women like AMY
WINEHOUSE апа ЗМООКТ sit
down in supersnug dresses, it
can have the same effect.

>, here is nothing quite so
sing as the sight of

а swimsuit т

SPLASH NEWS

poin
gel ALES. ANDRA
MBROSIO en erging
orkel in Hawaii.
за

MICHAEL DOMINIC/MAXA/LANDOV

CHLOE SAXON recently tweeted, “Does anyone
miss their mouth while brushing their teeth and end
up stabbing their nose with their toothbrush??? or
is it just mel!!!” It's just her, but lack of depth per-
ception is a small price to pay for flawless beauty.

M
ЧООК CCORSTNEWSONLINECO

Poseidon is a crafty
god, indeed. He never
misses an opportu-
nity to wreak havoc
on a bikini top with his
powerful currents, as
seen here with HEIDI
MONTAG. We've no-
ticed women rarely
lose their bottoms in
the surf—leading us
to conclude that this
particular deity is a
196 breast man.

CHELSEA WHITE/CELEBRITY PICTURES

EPACIFICCOASTNEWSONLINE.COM

The Ciara
Mountains

We don't know wom-
en's fashion, but we
give the diaphanous
frock worn by pop
singer CIARA at the
MTV Video Music
Awards two thumbs
up. It provided a tan-
talizing glimpse of
her natural assets—
revealing hills that
are truly alive with
the sound of music.

GIULIO MARCOCCHI/SIPA PRESS

Former Midwest madam TEFLON
DAWN is clearly worthy of her nick-
name: Even this velveteen cover-up
can't stay put without her aid.

Meet RHIAN SUGDEN, a Page 3 girl and British model

who puts the “chest” in Manchester. Rhian is purport-
edly the current lust interest of Portuguese soccer stud
Cristiano Ronaldo—and thousands of other men.

ра

\

Black-Tie Underwear Affair

The sight of European model AGNES TRESZ in sexy black panties is an absolute

gift, and this particular pair manages to make it official by adorning the package

with an elegant bow. Now this is a present we'd love to see under the tree. b S

MEDIA
MAX GEAM/MANDARINEM 197

ane

i
PAMELA ANDERSON: IN HER OWN STYLE.

PAMELA ANDERSON-THE BOMBSHELL BLONDE STILL HAS IT
GOING ON—AND WE HAVE THE PICTURES TO PROVE IT.

WANDERLUST COLOMBIA—THE FORMER “KIDNAP CAPITAL
OF THE WORLD” IS NOW A HIP TOURIST HOT SPOT. STEVE
GARBARINO TAKES US ON A WILD CARTAGENA ADVENTURE.

THE NFL AND GAMBLING—LEGALIZED SPORTS GAMBLING IS
THE NFL’S WORST FEAR. MATTHEW KREDELL REVEALS WHY.

JERSEY SHORE—DO GUIDOS AND GUIDETTES HAVE AN AUTHEN-
TICITY THAT HOLLYWOOD CAN’T DUPLICATE? AMERICAN
PSYCHO AUTHOR BRET EASTON ELLIS SAYS YES.

THE NEWEST SEX DRUG—PREMATURE EJACULATION IS THIS
YEAR’S ERECTILE DYSFUNCTION. CHRIS SWEENEY EXAMINES
JOHNSON & JOHNSON’S LATEST SEX WONDER DRUG.

FRANK СЕНВҮ--ІМ THE PLAYBOY INTERVIEW THE ARCHITECT
OPENS UP TO DAVID SHEFF ABOUT SEX, DEATH THREATS AND
WHY HE LOATHES THE WORD STARCHITECT.

BEER WARS—KEVIN COOK EXPLAINS HOW A BROOKLYN BREWERY
ROSE TO SUCCESS ON HOPS, HYPE AND VIOLENCE.

GOOD НОМЕ--ІМ NEW FICTION BY Т.С. BOYLE, MAN’S BEST
FRIEND EXPOSES ONE MAN’S TRUE CHARACTER.

NEXT MONTH

CARS OF THE YEAR: LEAN, MEAN DRIVING MACHINES.

CHLOE SEVIGNY—THE ACTRESS UNLOADS ON STEPHEN REBELLO
ІМ 200 ABOUT POLYGAMY AND HER BATTLES WITH TMZ.

CARS OF THE YEAR 2011—OUR ANNUAL ROUNDUP OF THE НОТ-
TEST RIDES ON THE ROAD—SPEED, NEW TECH AND MORE.

TECHNO INFIDELITY—INSULT COMIC QUEEN LISA LAMPANELLI
ON WHY LUDDITES MAKE THE MOST LOYAL BOYFRIENDS.

MIDDLE-AGED LOTHARIO—FORMER HARD PARTYER MARTIN
DEESON CHRONICLES HIS AMUSING CONCEPTION WOES.

ON PLATO—SAMANTHA GILLISON ON THE JOYS OF HEAD.

EROTIC IMAGINATION IN THE MIDDLE EAST—SCHOLAR REZA
ASLAN EXPLORES THE RACY SIDE OF ISLAMIC CULTURE.

THE PRIVATE WAR OF ANTHONY SHAFFER—BECAUSE HE PUT
A SPOTLIGHT ON AMERICA’S FAILURE TO STOP AL QAEDA, THE
PENTAGON WANTS TO SHUT HIM UP. BY PETER LANCE

A BRIEF HISTORY OF SWEARING-THE WORDS WE CONSIDER
DIRTY AND OUR REACTIONS TO THEM ARE EVOLVING. RUTH
WAJNRYB EXAMINES THE LEXICON OF LOADED SPEECH.

PLUS—THE 2010 PLAYMATE REVIEW, THE TOUGH FASHION OF
THE UFC AND MISS JANUARY ANNA SOPHIA BERGLUND.

Playboy (ISSN 0032-1478), December 2010, volume 57, number 11. 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 Canadian Publica-

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"115 the season for surprises...

Bear shown smaller than actual
seated height of 6*5". Pendant
measures М” including bale

Give two gifts in one with
this adorable teddy bear carrying

a diamond snowflake pendant!

It's Christmas morning, the house is warm and toasty, and
it’s time to open presents. This year you have a very special
surprise for her. Get ready for a big smile when she first
sees “Holly,” the adorable white plush bear. Then, when
she opens the little golden box the bear holds—and sees

a stunning diamond snowflake pendant inside—watch her
eyes light up with joy! Presenting...Holly, The Diamond
Bearing Christmas Bear.

(continued on other side)

OMBI

Supplement to Playboy Magazine

RESERVATION APPLICATION

The Danbury Mint Order promptly
47 Richards Avenue for Christmas
Norwalk, CT 06857 delivery

YES! Reserve Holly, The Diamond Bearing Christmas Bear as
described in this announcement.

Name
Address
City/State/Zip

Signature

Orders subject to acceptance

For guaranteed Christmas delivery:
1-800-726-1184 * www.danburymint.com

92540012V500

For guaranteed Christmas delivery:
1-800-726-1184 * www.danburymint.com

HOLLY CARRIES |
А SECRET
SURPRISE...

A DIAMOND
SNOWFLAKE!

(continued from other side)

Charmingly detailed.

Holly’s adorable face, big red bow and, most of all, the
enticing golden package she “bears” make her the perfect
gift this holiday season. Nestled within the box is a
glittering snowflake pendant with a dazzling diamond

at the center! The 14kt gold-plated pendant comes with
a matching 18" chain. L

Satisfaction guaranteed!

Holly, The Diamond Bearing Christmas
Bear is attractively priced at $87
plus $9 shipping and service,
payable in three monthly install-
ments of just $32. Your satisfaction
is fully guaranteed. If you are not
delighted, return it within 90 days
for replacement or refund.

9010-09890 LO MTVMHON
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For delivery in time for Ше holi-
days, call 1-800-726-1184 or order
online at www.danburymint.com.
Make this a holiday she’ll always
remember. Order today!

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