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THE ORIGINAL 


WORLD 
| XCLUSIVE! 


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MISTRESS 


PLUS 


FROM NBC'S THE PLAYBOY CLUE 


20Q0 


< NEW WORK BY 
` JOYCE CAROL OATES 


THE INTERVIEW 
JONATHAN AMES 


TO HAVING AN AFFAIR 
(RULE #1—STAY AWAY 
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GOOD ENGINEERING OGE YS 
THE LAW'S OF PHYSICS. 


GREA 7 ENGINEERING 
DEF/ES THEM. 


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but Mazda engineers would rather master the laws of physics than give in ot лет. They : 
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the title as the number one selling an ed: Pups Gar on earth. 


what we have. For us, driving is ап obses : 
while doing it keeps us up at night. But at í 
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Because for us, if it's not worth driving, it's not worth building. We build 
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ZOOID2—oor 


WorldMags 


TAILGATE-PROOF 


Vodka imported from Holland and botfled in a reusable, 
recyclable, shatterproof, stainless steel container. 


Please enjoy responsibly ї\'207* K 73 pT? $, Fi son, WY 47% Alc./Vol 


gm all has arrived and with it the crisp 
E scent of chilly death. We aren't going 

图 to sugarcoat it. Nor does Joyce 
Carol Oates, America's most prolific 
author and a literary shape-shifter. In San 
Quentin she assumes the voice of a man—a 
boy, really—who did an awful thing he still 
doesn't understand and probably never 
will. The restaurateurs wha AEE on 
Koren іне with С n 
R y know the feeling. 1 In 200 
the volatile chef insists he's not an 
ass, just passionate about perfec- 
tion. Cooking, he says, is a lot like 
sex: "If you want to maximize it, 
you have to be selfish." We suspect 
Ramsay's subjects can also relate 
to the pulp cover art of Margaret 
Brundage, which often featured 
innocents being threatened by a 
fanged creature. In The Weird Art 
of SEHE, Boorer Prize win- 
ner Margaret Atwood shares her 
ы for Beuridage' s work. Look for 
Atwood's new collection of essays about 
sci-fi and speculative fiction, In Other 
Worlds, out this month. Our damsels at 
the Playboy Clubs put the hot in hot spot. 
In The Original Playboy Club Bunnies we 
remember the women who inspired the 
new NBC drama The Playboy Club and sit 
down шш one of the show's stars, Laura 
nanti. After the Russian government 
eem the opening of the Stalin archives, 
one document revealed that a commis- 
sion had been formed in 1929 to examine 
"Ivanov's proposed interspecies hybridiza- 
tion experiment nn i Ts Island of Doctor 
Ivanov Rob Ma ТЕ th visits the 
Sukhumi Primate Center to explore Ilya 
Ivanov's plans to breed a human-ape 501- 
dier. Another frightening but fascinating 
de is told by Lori Arnold to Karl Taro 
eld in Bad, Bad Lori Arnold. Some 

с Blamed Arnold, whose brother is actor 
Tom Arnold, for spreading crystal meth 
throughout the Midwest. At one point she 
was raking in $800,000 a month. Arnold 
cleaned up the hard way—she spent 16 
years in prison. Italian prime minister Silvio 
Berlusconi has been under legal pressures 
of his own. Now one of his many lovers, 
Evelina Manna, is seizing her day. What- 
ever you think of Berlusconi’ s ethics, our La 
Signora pictorial confirms his great taste 
in women. Like Evelina, Paul Rudd stands 
out in a crowd. In the Playboy Interview, 
the former bar mitzvah DJ discusses the 
moves that took him from socially awkward 
teenager to Hollywood leading man. 


Joyce Carol Oates 


Evelina Manna Paul Rudd — 


Playboy (ISSN 0032-1478), October 2011, volume 58 wd 10. Published monthly by Playboy in national and regional editions, Playboy, 680 North 


Lake Shore Drive, Chicago, Illinois 60611. Periodi aida at atl 4 Illinois and at additional mailing offices. Canada Post Canadian Pub- 
lications Mail Sales Product Agreement No. 4003 i 1 ү, MAOS: * Postmaster: Send address change to Playboy, P.O. 
Box 37489, Boone, Iowa 50037-0489. For subscrip gS. il plycustserv@cdsfulfillment.com. 8 


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НВО GO? is only accessible іп the US and Ute Ories. ©2017 Home Box Office, I rights reserved. HBU® ls and service marks are the property of Hom 


VOL. 58, NO. 18-OCTOBER 2811 


Her brother gained fame as an actor in Hollywood; she gained it peddling crystal meth 
throughout the Midwest. Tom Arnold’s little sister tells the dark story behind her inad- 
vertent ascent to amphetamine kingpin. As told to 


108 x 
THE . ` 
ORIGINAL - 
PLAYBOY 
CLUB 
BUNNIES J 


4 


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THE WEIRD ART 
OF SEDUCTION 


A tribute to the provocative pinups of the 
legendary pulp magazine Weird Tales. 
By 

THE EXEGESIS OF 
PHILIP K. DICK 
The Shakespeare of sci-fi describes the 
source of his inspiration in a 1974 letter 
to a literary critic. 

HOW TO RUN A MISTRESS 


From social media etiquette to shrewd 
travel arrangements, we tell you how to 
keep your affair under wraps. 

THE ISLAND OF DOCTOR 
IVANOV 


investigates the 
forgotten research records of a Soviet 
scientist who hoped to develop a human- 
ape hybrid. 


PAUL RUDD 
The actor talks to about 
his Donnie the Dweeb dance, why he 
insists on using AOL e-mail and his appall- 
ing track record of car accidents. 


GORDON RAMSAY 
In a candid conversation with 
the expletive-prone chef dishes 
about things he hates, including fat chefs, 
dinner parties and shark fin soup. 


SAN QUENTIN 


He's a man who is still a child, a murderer 
who is an innocent. By 


A long-ago era of Bunnies, mobsters and sexual 
revolution comes to life on NBC's new drama The 
Playboy Club. Laura Benanti dazzles in the role 
of Carol-Lynne, the feisty first Bunny at Hef's 
original Chicago club. The actress slipped into 
character for photographer Michael Williams, 
and our Rabbit was stirred by the sight. 


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IT ALL STARTS WITH A KEY. 


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There’s life and then there’s living free. Harley-Davidson 
and our riders live that way every day. Now it’s time 
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START TO CREATE YOUR LEGEND AT PLAYBOY.COM/H-DKEYCLUB 


YOUR EXCLUSIVE “IN” FOR 


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IN YOUR OWN BACKYARD. 


VOL. 58, NO. 18-OCTOBER 2811 


CONTENTS 


8 


LA SIGNORA 


Evelina Manna, former mistress of 
Silvio Berlusconi, shows off the 
curves that captivated the Italian 
prime minister. 


PLAYMATE: 
AMANDA CERNY 


Meet Miss October, a feisty adren- 
aline junkie with a penchant 
for adventure. 


THE ORIGINAL PLAYBOY 


CLUB BUNNIES 


The Playboy Club Chicago forever 
changed American nightlife. Now 
it will be transforming TV. Meet the 
women who made history, plus Laura 
Benanti, the NBC show’s sexy star. 


PM A BEARDED LADY IN 
A FREAK SHOW 
Reverse narcissist 
details the delights of self-loathing. 
DON’T ASK, DON’T TELL 


Why you should never discuss the 
ghosts of girlfriends past with your 
current squeeze. By 


80 PLAYMATE 


AMANDA CERNY 


THE WEIRD WORLD OF 
GAHAN WILSON 


Gothic characters and bizarre behav- 
ior elicit laughs in this eerie realm. 


FASHION 


WELL 
SUITED 


Actor Michael Shannon dresses in his 
fall best and reflects on his personal 
style and impeccable Boardwalk 
Empire wardrobe. By 


THE WORLD OF PLAYBOY 
Hef hosts a fund-raiser for a documentary about 
female jazz musicians; Piers Morgan gets the 
scoop on runaway bride Crystal Harris; celebs 
flock to the Mansion for the Kandyland party. 


HEF’S INDEPENDENCE DAY 
Bill Maher, Chris Evans and other stars kick back 
in the sun as they celebrate the Fourth of July 
with Hef at the Mansion. 


PLAYMATE NEWS 
Miss December 2007 Sasckya Porto isn’t resting 
on her laurels; Miss December 1966 Susan 
Bernard chronicles Marilyn Monroe’s life; Miss 
July 2011 Jessa Hinton gets silly on 705һ.0. 


PLAYBILL 
DEAR PLAYBOY 
AFTER HOURS 
REVIEWS 
MANTRACK 


PLAYBOY ADVISOR 
net 


$-WorldMags 


THE PRICE IS NOT RIGHT 
Do the benefits of Homeland Security 
justify its cost? Not really. By 
and 


SACRED COW 


reveals why Washing- 
ton won't curb defense spending. 


PLAYBOY. COM 


B Sign up tor free to: see S PISIS 
Heather Rae Young, Jaime Faith 
Edmondson, Mei-Ling Lam and Jaclyn 
Swedberg learn to ride! 


E Our 2008 PEW are of 
the Year Shows you the hottest moves 
to cd in shape. 

IRI HE MONTH Lauren Elise, 
star of Playboy TV's Playboy Trip Patago- 
nia, takes a break from globe-trotting to 
shoot three pictorials and a video. 


PLAYBOY ON PLAYBOY ON 
FACEBOOK TWITTER 


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


GENERAL OFFICES: PLAYBOY, 68O NORTH LAKE SHORE 
DRIVE, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 60611. PLAYBOY ASSUMES NO 
RESPONSIBILITY TO RETURN UNSOLICITED EDITORIAL OR 
GRAPHIC OR OTHER MATERIAL. ALL RIGHTS IN LETTERS 
AND UNSOLICITED EDITORIAL AND GRAPHIC MATERIAL 
WILL BE TREATED AS UNCONDITIONALLY ASSIGNED FOR 
PUBLICATION AND COPYRIGHT PURPOSES, AND MATE- 
RIAL WILL BE SUBJECT TO PLAYBOY'S UNRESTRICTED 
RIGHT TO EDIT AND TO COMMENT EDITORIALLY. CONTENTS 
COPYRIGHT 6 2011 BY PLAYBOY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 
PLAYBOY, PLAYMATE AND RABBIT HEAD SYMBOL ARE 
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NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED, STORED 
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BETWEEN THE PEOPLE AND PLACES IN THE FICTION AND 
SEMIFICTION IN THIS MAGAZINE AND ANY REAL PEOPLE 
AND PLACES IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL. FOR CREDITS 
SEE PAGE 144. DANBURY MINT AND DIRECTV ONSERTS 
IN DOMESTIC SUBSCRIPTION POLYWRAPPED COPIES. 
SANTA FE INSERT BETWEEN PAGES 52-53 IN DOMESTIC 
NEWSSTAND AND SUBSCRIPTION COPIES. CERTIFICADO 
DE LICITUD DE TÍTULO NO. 7570 DE FECHA 29 DE JULIO 
DE 1993, Y CERTIFICADO DE LICITUD DE CONTENIDO 
NO. 5108 DE FECHA 29 DE JULIO DE 1993 EXPEDIDOS 
POR LA COMISÍON CALIFICADORA DE PUBLICACIONES 
Y REVISTAS ILUSTRADAS DEPENDIENTE DE LA SECRE- 
TARIA DE GOBERNACIÓN, MÉXICO. RESERVA DE DERECHOS 
04-2000-07 17 10332800-102. 


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PLAYBOY 


HUGH M. HEFNER 
editor-in-chief 


JIMMY JELLINEK 
editorial director 
STEPHEN RANDALL deputy editor 
ROB WILSON art director 
LEOPOLD FROEHLICH managing editor 


P L A Y B O Y 


A.J. BAIME, JOSH SCHOLLMEYER executive editors 
AMY GRACE LOYD executive literary editor 
PATTY BEAUDET-FRANCES deputy photography director 
STEVE GARBARINO editor at large 


EDITORIAL 
TIM MC CORMICK editorial manager FEATURES: CHIP ROWE senior editor 
FASHION: JENNIFER RYAN JONES editor STAFF: ARANYA TOMSETH assistant editor; 
CHERIE BRADLEY executive assistant; GILBERT MACIAS senior editorial assistant CARTOONS: 
AMANDA WARREN associate cartoon editor COPY: WINIFRED ORMOND copy chief; BRADLEY LINCOLN, 


00 opa 09% 


SANHITA SINHAROY copy editors RESEARCH: BRIAN СООК, LING MA research editors CONTRIBUTING 


ә 


EDITORS: BRANTLEY BARDIN, MARK BOAL, GARY COLE, ROBERT В. DE SALVO, GRETCHEN EDGREN, 
KEN GROSS, GEORGE GURLEY, DAVID HOCHMAN, ARTHUR KRETCHMER (automotive), LISA LAMPANELLI (special 
correspondent), CHRISTIAN PARENTI, JAMES R. PETERSEN, ROCKY RAKOVIC, STEPHEN REBELLO, DAVID RENSIN, 


WILL SELF, DAVID SHEFF, DAVID STEVENS, ROB TANNENBAUM, ALICE K. TURNER 


NICK TOSCHES uriter 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; KRYSTLE JOHNSON managing photo director; BARBARA LEIGH 
assistant editor; ARNY FREYTAG, STEPHEN WAYDA Senior contributing photographers; JAMES IMBROGNO, 
RICHARD IZUI, ZACHARY JAMES JOHNSTON, MIZUNO, BYRON NEWMAN, GEN NISHINO, JARMO POHJANIEMI, 
DAVID RAMS contributing photographers; BONNIE JEAN KENNY manager, photo archives; 


KEVIN CRAIG manager, imaging lab; MARIA HAGEN Stylist 


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THERESA M. HENNESSEY vice president; TERI THOMERSON director 


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MARCIA TERRONES Fights & permissions director 


BILL BENWAY, RICH CRUBAUGH, SIMMIE WILLIAMS prepress 


INTERNATIONAL PUBLISHING 


MARKUS GRINDEL managing director; DAVID WALKER editorial director 


PLAYBOY ENTERPRISES INTERNATIONAL, INC. 
SCOTT FLANDERS chief executive officer 


PLAYBOY INTEGRATED SALES 
JOHN LUMPKIN Senior vice president, publisher; MARIE FIRNENO vice president, advertising director; 


AMANDA CIVITELLO senior marketing director 


DEDICATED TO PERFECTION ADVERTISING AND MARKETING: AMERICAN MEDIA INC. 


DAVID PECKER chairman and chief executive officer; KEVIN HYSON chief marketing officer; 
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THE GIRLS IN THE BAND 

Ever the champion of women's rights and lover of jazz, Hef hosted a fund-raiser for The Girls 
in the Band, a documentary he co-produced about the struggles of female jazz musicians from 
the late 1930s to the present. Among those who attended the prescreening were the legendary 
Herbie Hancock, alto sax player Roz Cron, director Judy Chaikin and trumpeter Clora Bryant. 


HEF REFLECTS ON HIS RUNAWAY BRIDE 
Less than a month after he was supposed to 
marry Crystal Harris, Hef gave Piers Morgan 
his first interview since the wedding date 
to explain why his bride was a no-show. “1 
woke up and | was single, and | thought 
that this is the natural way of things," 
Hef told Morgan and the world. “I ought 
ы to Бе single." 


KANDYLAND AT PMW 

The Karma Foundation put the 

"fun" in "fund-raising" when it 

threw its sixth annual Капау- 2 
е 


land party at the Mansion. 
Proceeds from this year's 
affair went to Operation USA, 
an organization that distributes 
humanitarian aid around the 
world and has Miss Septem- 
ber 1978 Rosanne Katon on its 
advisory board. Those partying ^ 
with a purpose included Hef, = 
Miss January 2011 Anna Sophia 4 


Berglund, dance club legend 


3 
388977. 
“ 
“ 


CeCe Peniston, DJ Paul Oakenfold, 5 й 

Paris Hilton, ER's Shane West with Miss с> 

April 1997 and Dancing With the Stars Г,» > 

champion Kelly Monaco, music video سے‎ ` ^. 
vixen Amber Rose and star of / Am y v t 


Number Four Alex Pettyfer. 


wo 


INDEPENDENCE 


d P 
Р 
f 


On the Fourth of July Hef celebrated his and 
the country's freedom by throwing a party 
for his friends and girls in star-spangled 
bikinis. (1) The Man and some sparklers. (2) 
Bill Maher, Hef and his new girlfriend, Miss 
November 2010 Shera Bechard. (3) Mod- 
els Sheridyn Fisher and Addison Miller. (4) 
Cooper Hefner and father. (5) Upcoming Play- 
mate Rainy Day Jordan. (6) Hef with brother 
Keith Hefner and his girlfriend, Caya Ukkas. 
(7) Hef with Scott Baio, his wife, Renee Sloan, 
and their daughter, Bailey DeLuca Baio. (8) 
Soap star Ronn Moss and his wife, Miss June 
1985 Devin DeVasquez. (9) Cleveland Brown 
DeAngelo Smith and Miss August 2008 Kayla 
Collins. (10) Marston Hefner, PMOY 2011 
Claire Sinclair, Nick Simmons and Alex 
Essoe. (11) Miss March 2003 Pennelope 
Jimenez with Captain America Chris 
Evans and friends Dan Spink and Andrew 
Gallery. (12) Two birds of paradise: Claire 

and a Mansion cockatoo. (13) Hef and 
Shera watching fireworks. Oh, there are 
always fireworks at the Mansion. 


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HOT AND FAST 
Lisa Lampanelli's comparison of booty 

calls to drive-through windows couldn't be 
more accurate (Friends, Benefits and the 
Art of the Booty Call," Women, August). 
But she fails to mention that a booty call, 
like the fast food you order at a drive- 
through, isn't satisfying or healthy, and 
the price is high for what you get—not 
to mention every guy out there has had 
everything on the limited menu. You're 
more likely to get a mad cow than prime. 
Not that I would know.... 

Pat Wilson 

Helper, Utah 


EVERYWHERE MAN 
'Thank you for the excellent Playboy 
Interview with James Franco (August). I 
admire him for taking risks and delv- 
ing into emotions on screen that some 
actors would never commit to. Articulate 
intellectuals are turned on by other intel- 
lectuals, so it’s no wonder some people 
dislike his style and projects. Personally, I 
look forward to everything he does. 
Deborah Mattera 
Stevensville, Maryland 


BRUSHBACK 
As a PLAYBOY reader since my first day 

of college in 1964, I have journeyed with 
the magazine through all the social and 
cultural revolutions of the past 47 years. 
PLAYBOY has always been on the cutting 
edge of those revolutions, advocating for 
human rights and social justice. So you 
can imagine my surprise when a reader 
in August accused you of taking a "turn to 
the left" (Dear Playboy). What PLAYBOY has 
this guy been reading? At a time when we 
face another series of crises perpetrated 
by conservatives, I urge PLAYBOY to con- 
tinue its good work. 

Bob Adams 

Valencia, Pennsylvania 


FINDING A REAL JOB 
An American city loses jobs to outsourc- 
ing (No Jobs Here, July). What else is new? 
То those who rail against Levi Strauss, I'm 
sure the company's response is simple: 
“That's capitalism." 
Hosea Martin 
Chicago, Illinois 


It's ironic that in the same issue you 
examine the historic corruption of labor 
unions in the film industry (When the Mob 
Ruled Hollywood, July) you publish a report 
on the demise of the American worker 
that fails to mention how the greed and 
corruption of labor unions contributed to 
that sad development. 

Robert Lovell 
Plymouth, Minnesota 


In his portrayal of Braddock, Penn- 
sylvania and its "authentic partnership" 
with Levi Strauss, Jesse Pearson does a 
masterful job of depicting two realities 
that confront the U.S. economy. First, 


Warm Wishes 


I am the foreman of an all-male crew 
that sets up five seasonal High Sierra 
Camps in Yosemite National Park. They 
are located one and a half, three, six, 
seven and 15 miles from any road, store 
or anything else. I just returned from 
our first of the year, at Glen Aulin—I 
ran the five miles out and hitchhiked 
home. Because we are deep in the for- 
est for long periods, we refer to the 
assignment as "breakfast, lunch and 
dudes." Sitting around the campfire the 
past few nights, we have been discuss- 
ing Camp Playboy (August) and would 
like to volunteer to set up your next 
camp, or at least pay a visit. 

David Bainbridge 
Yosemite, California 

Sure—the campers can always use a few 

extra hands. But where will you sleep? 


our industrial and service economies are 
no longer enough to keep all Americans 
working. Only a shift to “economic experi- 
ences" offers new and lasting job creation. 
For example, consider what Grant Achatz 
is doing at Next in Chicago—he sells tick- 
ets for the entire dining experience, tax, 
tips and beverages included, with new 
themed menus every three months. Fur- 
ther, the marketing of goods and services, 


x 
Р 


KAROL LASIA 


What will be the last product made in America? 


and advertising in particular, has largely 
become a giant phoniness-generating 
machine, expertly advancing promises of 
an experience but seldom actually fulfill- 
ing those promises. In the case of Levi's, its 
campaign uses our hollowed-out industrial 
belt to promote Work Wear jeans to the 
magses who will never step foot in а fac- 


- Ifstead of wasting creative talent араў 
E : : 
Se World Mags 


of “placemaking.” That is, don't turn Brad- 
dock into a pop-up advertising backdrop; 
instead, turn the town, and others like it, 
into ongoing research-and-development 
labs for creating experience-based product 
offerings. And have everyone wear Levi's 
to that real work. 


James Gilmore 
Shaker Heights, Ohio 
Gilmore is co-author, with B. Joseph Pine II, 
of The Experience Economy and Authenticity: 
What Consumers Really Want. 


LAND O' PLENTY 
I see PLAYBOY has discovered the beauty 
of Ukraine, in the form of Playmate Iryna 
Ivanova (International Excursion, August). 
Having had a chance to visit that wonder- 
ful country, I can testify to the splendor 
of its women. I hope we can see more of 
them in the magazine. 
Charles Wallace 
Douglasville, Georgia 


BONDING EXPERIENCE 
Thanks for the glimpse of Ian 
Fleming's Jamaican estate (Goldeneye, 
August). Back in the 1960s I “borrowed” 
my uncle's James Bond books, as well as 
his issues of PLAYBOY. АП these years later 
I'm still reading Bond and PLAYBOY, and 
neither has lost a step. 
Curtis Ingram 
Thomasville, North Carolina 


LIFE AFTER CHARLIE 

Bree Olson's story is predictable (Charlie 
Sheen's Goddess Has Left the Building, 
August). А beautiful small-town girl moves 
from Indiana to California, where people 
take advantage of her. I hope Olson lands 
a Hollywood role, but the odds are against 


17 


8 


LIGHTERS AS CLASSIC 
AS THE LINE 
“| READ THE ARTICLES." 


Zippo 


The only lighter to take to the Playboy 
Club. Visit Zippo.com to select yours. 


€ 2011 Playboy. PLAYBOY and Rabbit Head Design 


P LAYBOY Y are marks of Playboy and used under license by 


Zippo Manufacturing Company. 


her. Talented women such as Ginger Lynn 
have tried to go mainstream but end up 
returning to porn. 
Craig Christon 
Wilmington, Ohio 


You promise on the August cover 
to reveal "the secret sex life of Charlie 
Sheen," but there hasn't been anything 
secret about his sex life for years. 

Bill Ross 
Lafayette, Indiana 


As a personal trainer, let me say vegan- 
ism doesn't do a body good. Olson needs 
to eat more protein and put on some mus- 
cle. But it is nice to see a blonde from the 
Midwest on the cover. 

Leslie Ivarson 
Huntington Beach, California 


I'm not sure why you chose to honor 
Bree Olson—best anal 2008!—with a 
cover when I can see her naked in two 
dozen adult videos. Stay classy, PLAvBOY. 

Randall Huyett 
Mt. Pleasant, Michigan 


FAN LETTERS 
Тһе July issue is one of the best you've 
published, especially the Playboy Interview 
with Justin Timberlake, the fiction by Charles 
Yu (Yeoman) and When the Mob Ruled Holly- 
wood. And the women aren't bad either. 
Brett Gaul 
St. Joseph, Missouri 


I appreciate the design changes you've 
made, including the cleaner typography 
and layouts and the improved After Hours. 
Please keep publishing illustrations like 
those from Roberto Parada, Alex Zoebisch 
and Karol Lasia. And I love British Bunnies 
(July). I am a subscriber again! 

Fernando Vasconcelos 
Recife, Brazil 


AMPLE BOUNTY 
First Sasha Bonilova (Miss May) and 
now Iryna Ivanova (Miss August). Your 
cups runneth over! 
Adam Fleitman 
Minneapolis, Minnesota 


When discussing the most buxom 
Playmate (Dear Playboy, July), the edi- 
tors describe Bonilova's 36DD bra size as 
the equivalent of a 41-inch bust. That's 
misleading. Bust size is a measure of the 
circumference of the torso across the 
breasts. That means a larger woman with 
an A-cup could have a 41-inch bust. 

Harvey Cohen 
Baltimore, Maryland 

Admittedly, it’s an imperfect comparison. 
We tried to measure breast volume, but the 
Playmates saw the bowl of water and fled. 


FR BOY TO MAN 


reading your Justin Timberlake 
, 1 1 
y. WortdMags 


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


coming out of the cioset as a тап. Í ve scea 
almost every episode of Saturday Night Live 
since its first season, and Timberlake's host- 
ing gigs have been as memorable as those 
of Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin. Future 
Sex/Love Sounds, coupled with his cover 
of Leonard Cohen's “Hallelujah” on the 
Hope for Haiti Now telethon, has dispelled 


Justin Timberlake: Has he only just begun? 


any impression he is a boy-band Disney 
kid. With apologies to President Obama, 
Timberlake now tops the list of people with 
whom I would love to play a round of golf, 
drink a beer and smoke a cigar. 
Rick Melchor 
Mechanicsville, Virginia 


You claim Timberlake's mom came up 
with the name 'N Sync by using the last 
letter of the first name of each member. 
If that's true, where's Lance? 

Raymond Best 
Albion, Michigan 

It’s JustiN, ChriS, JoeY, LansteN and JC. 

And yes, we knew that without looking it up. 


LOW BLOWS 
Jason Sudeikis has to be the most 
overrated performer ever to come out 
of Saturday Night Live (20Q, July). His 
sketches all center on one-liners about 
genitalia. Even his fake commercials are 
about products for your genitalia. It seems 
anybody with an eighth-grade education 
can write comedy these days. 
Michael Plourde 
Edmundston, New Brunswick 


REUNITED 
While serving as a mechanic in the Army 
motor pool during the Vietnam war, I 
pinned the Centerfold of Dolly Read (Miss 
Мау 1966) to the inside of my toolshed. 
During the course of my tour she and I 
were separated. British Bunnies helped me 
reconnect. Thanks for never forgetting the 
beauties of the past. I haven't. 
Bobby DeRosa 
Mooresville, North Carolina 
Read more letters from vets on page 152. 


` + „^^ 


DANIEL NAOMI  RACHPP 
CRAIG WATTS WEISZ 


JAMES G. ROBINSON PRESENTS Y a MORGAN CREEK bina ІІІ Ши} PRODUCTION 
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BECOMING 
ATTRACTION 


Fischer 
Germany gave 
the world Claudia 
Schiffer, Heidi 
Klum and now 
Agnes Fischer. 
The 25-year-old 
model became 
tabloid fodder 
after being spot- 
ted with Ryan 
Reynolds last 
March, but she’s 
no stranger to 
the camera. “I 
grew up in a tiny 
village and didn't 
even know what 
modeling was, 
but I sent pho- 
05 to an agency 
iw en I was 17 

booked a 

she says. 


А 
"a Bros BY 


KATIA LEKARSKI 


YES, PAPA: 
Thornproof 
shooters tweed knit- 
back sweater, $175, 
by Orvis. Tattersall 
shirt, $65, by Beretta. 
Classico pleated 


22 


trousers, $295, 
by Moncler. 


CLASSIC LOOK OF THE MONTH 


IMPORTANCE OF DRESSING ERNEST 


KNOWN FOR HIS SPARTAN prose—that self-conscious yet 
noble quest for one true sentence—Ernest Hemingway in the 
bar or on safari was a functionally dapper dresser. The politi- 
cally incorrect poses might have suggested otherwise—his 
boot pressed on the head of a lion or his hand clenching a 
fistful of dollars while he rooted for a bull's demise. But his 
clothes were the urban outfitter doing it right. He was equipped 
for a fall in a Venetian puddle outside Harry's Bar or a hunting 
excursion in the green hills of Africa. On the flip side, his writing 
uniform suggested respect for his profession: rolled-up oxford 
sleeves with vest and wool pants. Focus, focus! This summer 
marked the 50th anniversary of his self-inflicted death—duly 
noted with Duval Street Look-alike contests. In addition, a 
book about his beloved skiff Pilar, titled Hemingway's Boat, 
hit bookstores with a proper bang last month. By all means, 
be the son who also rises in timeless style. 


Jason Hawes, star of Syfy's Ghost 


Hunters, has been chasing the undead 
Ë H Ü SI H l N I since 1990, when he co-founded the 
Atlantic Paranormal Society. For ama- 
teur paranormal sleuthing, he recommends the Zoom H4n Handy Mobile 


4-Тгаск digital recorder ($299, bhphotovideo.com). "Capturing electronic 
voice phenomena helps determine an entity's gender, and deciphering 
accents aids іп gauging a nationality," he explains. Жой might even hee 
the reason why the entity has chosen to hang around." 


TRESPASSING * GETTING VERTICAL 


REAL-LIFE SPIDER-MAN 


Several years ago “Joe,” an urban adventurer who refers to himself as 
a "recreational trespasser,” began documenting his nocturnal scaling 
of U.S. skyscrapers (nopromiseofsafety.com). “If it weren't for my pho- 
tographs, the property owners would never know I was there," he says. 
The building above? The 36-story Regions Tower in Indianapolis. 


WORDS TO DRINK BY 


NICOLE JAYE 


I DON'T think I've ever 
heard a good pickup line at 
my bar, Alibi Cafe in Provi- 
dence. Maybe I shouldn't 
have said that—now it 
sounds like a challenge. 


ARE DRUNK girls worse 
than drunk guys? I don't 
know. All drunk peo- 
ple love to knock their 
glasses over, so I'd rather 
deal with whoever spills 
the least. 

RHODE ISLAND is such a 
small state that you can't 
do anything without every- 
one else hearing about it. 
AT MY last job, my best 
friend and I had a cham- 
pagne fight. Because our 
clothes were soaked, we 
borrowed shirts from two 
guys and drove home 
in our underwear. It's a 


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METALWORK * MOTORCYCLES 


ART MOVEMENT 


AFTER HOURS 


BEHOLD THE HANDIWORK of Michael Christian Cole (a.k.a. Copper Mike), a Long Island motorcycle 
artist who custom builds copper-festooned bikes with fellow artisans in New York and Los Angeles. 


ANNIVERSARY PARTY * WINE 


perks. In 1943, before he was born, 
his family bought the Charles Krug 
winery—the oldest vineyard in Napa Valley 
and the one that launched the whole wine 
business there. The Mondavis had gotten 
their first experience mak- 
ing wine during Prohibition. 
“I got my first paycheck for 
doing odd jobs in the vine- 
yard when I was eight,” 
Mondavi says. In college 
he didn’t study wine making 
but rather engineering and 
business. He learned how to 
make world-class vino “from 
the school of hard knocks,” 
doing everything there is to 
do at his family’s vineyard. 
Now 53, Mondavi is the pro- 
prietor of the Charles Krug 
winery—which is still family 


H eing born Peter Mondavi Jr. has its 


owned and turns 150 this year. He hosted a 

bash last month to mark the birthday of the 

vineyard that started it all in Napa. Guests 

were treated to live music and rare wines 

(though not the priceless 1944 vintage 

Peter Mondavi Sr. has tucked away— 
his first). Didn't make the 
party? Have your own with 
a 150th anniversary magnum 
of Charles Krug cabernet 
(left, $150), a 2008 vintage 
squeezed from 100 percent 
estate-grown grapes. Only 
770 cases were made of this 
fruit-forward yet balanced 
red. Mondavi Jr. recom- 
mends a New York strip to 
accompany it. Or swing by 
the winery's tasting room so 
you can sip the whole line of 
Charles Krug wines. Info at 
cherleskr 410.20 m. 


ISTVAN BANYAI 


194 


NEVER SLEEP • MILWAUKEE 


BREW CITY 


Thanks to a flood of Teutonic immi- 
grants, Milwaukee overflows with 
gemütlichkeit, a distinctly Ger- 
man sense of friendliness that the 
city has been perfecting since beer 
barons such as Joseph Schlitz and 
Frederick Miller filled the city's taps 
with their Lagers. 

6:45 p.m. Try to time your visit to the 
Old World Third Street Oktoberfest— 
or any of Milwaukee's three other 
Oktoberfest celebrations. But if you 
can't, the Old German Beer Hall (old 
germanbeerhall.com) makes every 
day feel like Oktoberfest. 

7:56 P.M. Pair that Germanic brew 
with some Germanic grub at Mader's 
(madersrestaurant.com). For more 
than 100 years Milwaukeeans and vis- 
iting dignitaries (presidents Kennedy 
and Reagan among them) have dined 
on its schnitzel and sauerbraten. 
9:32 p.m. Although Schlitz died long 
ago, you can still imbibe with the city's 
other undisputed king—Gambrinus, 
the patron saint of beer—at Best 
Place Tavern (bestplacemilwaukee 
.com). A statue of him lords over the 
joint, a former Pabst brewery. 
12:44 A.M. Much like the infamous 
competition featured in the comedy 
Beerfest, downing a boot at Von Trier's 
(vontriers.com) will test your liver, 
blood-alcohol level and bladder. 

3:37 A.M. You've had your fill of barley 
and hops; now it's time to recharge. 
Dial Pizza Shuttle (pizzashuttle 
.com) and send the delivery guy to 
the Santiago Calatrava-designed Mil- 
waukee Art Museum (mam.org). The 
building itself will be closed, but its 
grounds provide a great spot to watch 
the sun rise over Lake Michigan. 


©2011 


GUESS? 


ART DIR: PAUL MARCIANO PH: ALIX MALKA 


=з SHDUG II VIS 
7. NOMME 
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26 


Y * COSTUMES 


HALLOWEEN'S WICKED WEAR 


Why do so many women indulge their inner harlot on Halloween with 
suggestive getups? “Come-hither costumes emerged with commercial 
costume companies in the early 1900s,” explains Adie Nelson, a University 
of Waterloo sociologist. “Such mass-produced costumes began to reflect 
different stereotypes of women and their sex 


” But supply exists 
because of strong demand. Says Nelson, “Women п i Mar 
tering to select something that makes them loo he Ww 


MEAT * THE NEW PORK BELLY 


BET YOUR GOAT 


Despite being a food staple worldwide, goat meat is just now mak- 
ing its way onto American plates—especially at more inventive 
urban eateries and locally sourced farm-to-table restaurants. Even 
among locavores, however, the name is obscured—usually listed 
as chevon or cabrito—so as not to arouse suspicion. Below, a trio 
of chefs fluent in goat share how they prepare it. 


"Basically it means 
roast goat, says Rene Ortiz (pictured 
above), the executive chef at La Condesa 
in Austin. "After I apply a Mexican epa- 
zote spice rub, I slowly cook the goat 
over an open fire of Texas live oak. Then I 
wait. A few hours near the flame gives the 
meat a delicious flavor. It's ideal for tacos 
with avocado salad and radish salsa." 


MILK-BRAISED GOAT CAVATELLI "I 
like to boil goat shoulder in milk, after 
which I braise it in the oven for about 
two hours until it's fork tender, says 
Chris Cosentino, chef at Incanto in San 
Francisco. "The curds that form from the 
milk when it braises mix perfectly with 
the flavor of the goat. The cavatelli is for 
texture and ties the dish together." 


GOAT RAGU "Because goat is so lean, it 
lends itself to either quick, light cooking or 
longer cooking," says Matthew Accarrino, 
executive chef at SPQR, also in San Fran- 
cisco. "I do both. I sear it lightly before 
marinating it in white wine overnight. The 
following day I braise it in a vegetable 
Stock. Once I pick the meat clean from 
the bone, I use it in a sauce for pasta." 


VICES * THE BRIGHT SIDE 


90 BAD IT'S GOOD 


New research is proving many age-old assumptions wrong. For 
instance, pornography has been said to lead to sexual violence, but 
according to a recent report it may actually reduce such desires. Sim- 
ilarly, last year research revealed that people who drink live longer 
than those who;doh't. Two other 2010 studies determined that LSD and 


l ама om hallucinogens—have the potential to allevi- 
а and anxiety. Take that, conventional wisdom. 


ee 


TRAPPED 
INSIDE 


BARREL WOOD — ` 
FOR YEARS. . 
МЕРЕ OVERDUE .: 
FORANIGHT OUT. — | 


A BOLD, NEW BOURBON WITH FLAVOR 
UNLOCKED FROM INSIDE THE BARREL WOOD. 


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AFTER HOURS STYLE * PLAID SHIRTS 


These days, plaid may be as ubiquitous as boots. But call us purists. We prefer our it up (pairing it with a tie) or dress it down 
the Kardashians—it's on messenger bags, tartan on our back. That doesn't mean, how- (throwing it over a T-shirt). Either way, you 
sports jackets and even the lining of your ever, it's just for factory work. You can dress can't go wrong with the shirts below. 


` 


IES 


1746-1782: 1969: 2010: 
The English Astronaut Plaid 
crown bans Alan Bean ski 
tartans, symbol brings his jackets 
of the Scottish family’s tartan hit the 
Highlanders. to the moon. slopes. 


PHOTOGRAPHY 
NEIL LEIFER 


ACTION SHOTS 


The indelible image of 
Neil Leifer’s career may 
be the one he captured of 
Muhammad Ali towering 
over a fallen Sonny Liston. 
But the wunderkind sports 
photographer—he shot 
his first Sports Illustrated 
cover at 19—also found 
inspiration outside the 


TOMER HANUKA 


ART Tomer Hanuka's award-winning ing. 

TOMERHANUKA visual narratives have graced rr ote Comm, now tue 
the covers of books, magazines, | in a trade edition, show- 

PICTURE graphic novels and the Oscar- cases his greatest football 
nominated documentary Waltz E photography, including 

STO М With Bashir—not to mention th нк > unforgettable images of 


pages of PLAv&ov. Gingko Pri Joe Namath, Dick Butkus 
collection Overkill ($30, gingkopress.com) capt and Jim Brown. 
28 the breadth of Hanuka's work in one place. 


WorldMags 


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one in public. Pert Plus 2-in-1 does the job. It’s shampoo plus conditioner. In. Out. Done. 
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AFTER HOURS 


SPORTS By Mike Thomas 


There's a reason more than 40,000 people take on the Chicago Marathon 
each fall: It's flat and thereby finishable. And though Boston's more elite 
springtime version is much steeper at points, thousands of challengers 
have successfully hoofed it from Hopkinton, Massachusetts to Bean- 
town's Boylston Street. Don't get the wrong impression; neither of these 
venerable slogs is a cakewalk. But if you really want to know what you're 
made of, try the U.K.’s Tough Guy Challenge. Called "the safest most 
dangerous event in the world,” its eight-mile course makes the Ironman 
Triathlon look like a sack race. Supposedly one third of participants drop 
out early, and those who do go the distance are battered, burned and 
bloodied from encounters with slashing barbed wire, tall wooden walls, 
claustrophobia-inducing tunnels, freezing mud pits and a bed of fire (see 
above). After viewing photos of the death-defying event, one cyber com- 
menter wrote, "This isn't just mad, it's plain stupid!" Perhaps you agree, 
in which case here are three other mettle-testing ordeals that fit the bill. 


z 
9 
8 
= 
5 
8 
ЕЗ 
z 


MARATHON DES SABLES If there are footraces in hell, they must 
be like this 151-mile scorcher across the Sahara in Morocco. Dur- 
ingthe six-day trot, temperatures can reach 120 degrees. The need 
to schlep a rucksack filled with supplies (including antivenom 
pumps for scorpion stings) only makes matters hotter. Just try not 
to get lost. One runner who went astray was forced to subsist on 
dead bats. So train well, stay on course and pack some ketchup. 


Skateboarding at Stone- 
hengeisfrowned upon, and 
rappelling down the Lean- 
ing Tower of Pisa could 
land you in lockup. But it 
is permissible to jog along 
the Great Wall of China. 
Finishing the Great Wall 
Marathon isn't easy—the 
monument's quad-burning 
stairs (both ascending and 
descending) number in the 
thousands—but as the Chi- 
nese proverb says, "Do not 
fear going forward slowly; 
fear only to stand still.” 


NORTH POLE MARATHON Dress as if your life depends on it— 
because it does. Although daylight is plentiful, temperatures can 
hit a frostbite-friendly minus 32 degrees. But here’s some heart- 
ening news from a past participant: Polar bears are almost non- 
existent, and “crevasses in the splintering ice are regularly moni- 
tored.” Now all you have to do is negotiate a series of ice hillocks 
and floes without tumbling into the frigid Arctic Ocean, which 
stands mere feet from the race route. Talk about shrinkage. 


ОҒ ТНЕ wo orldMags 


star batting lineup 
alone ought to tell 
you this isn’t your 
By Stephen Rebello typical scrappy un- 
derdog sports flick. Starring Brad Pitt, Jonah 
Hill, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Robin 
Wright, and directed by Bennett Miller, 
Moneyball is adapted from Michael Lewis's 
nonfiction best-seller about pro baseball. 
The film tells how maverick Oakland А5 
general manager Billy Beane (Pitt) revital- 
ized the team by hiring an economics whiz 
(Hill) whose cutting-edge statistical analysis 
helped catapult the team to a 2002 winning 
season. “You don’t want to sound like a jerk 
when you're talking about a movie in which 
you're the second lead,” says Hill. "But the 
movie is so emotionally affecting that even 
someone who isn’t a baseball fan can totally 
dig it, because it’s about so many things, like 
being undervalued and being judged like a 
book by its cover. I’m so proud of my perfor- 
mance because there’s not an ounce of me— 
— or the guy from Superbad-—in it." 


TEASE FRAME "rco 


Multihyphenate Milla Jovovich wears ^em 4 | ( қ 


many hats—actor, musician and model— 
but we love it when she wears nothing at 
all. In Stone (pictured) she seduces her 
husband's parole officer (Robert De Niro). 
See her next as the mischievous M'lady 
De Winter in The Three Musketeers. 


who knew how that name 
really fit?" 


FIVE FILM HOME RUNS 


America's favorite pastime has been 
depicted thousands of times on the big 


"Sorry. A 
little sappy, I know, but 
when the players come out 
of the corn and Ray plays 
catch with his dad, even 


screen—some films famously strike 


out, and others knock it clear out of the 
park. There is no one better to fill out 
the lineup card on his favorite baseball 
movies than the voice of the World Se- 
ries, Fox's 


(pictured): 
"Gary Cooper captures the nobility of 
Lou Gehrig. And what other movie 
classic has Babe Ruth appearing as 
himself? It has a great script, written 
about the game in another era, when 
baseball seemed more pure.” 
"It was released the year 
I started my career in Louisville. If any 
young announcer doesn't love Bob 
Uecker as the team's announcer, then 
something is wrong. I still think of 
‘Juuust a bit outside’ whenever some- 
one unleashes one that aets away. Chər- 
lie Sheen sFe'ieveol: as ^ lo Thing- 


the most hard-hearted guy has to 
choke them back." 

"My mom and 
dad took me to see it when it came 
out. I was seven. My first crush 
was on Tatum O'Neal. І still think 
she's hot. Walter Matthau is genius 
as Buttermaker." 

"This movie is my all- 
time favorite because Robert Redford 
is so believable as Roy Hobbs. Не іс а 
lefty who really looks like he can hit 
and pitch. Hollywood never gets that 
part right. On another note, my body 
type as a 12-year-old was exactly 
like the batboy who picks out a win- 
ner for Roy after Wonderboy breaks. 
He made me think I had a chance at 
an acting career. What happened to 
him and me?" —Buzz McClain 


SURGEON GENERAL WARNING: 
Cigars Are Not A Safe Alternative 
To Cigarettes. 


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OF THE моктн WordelMags 


pounding on a 
GEARS OF WAR З farmed sun, siam- 
By Jason Buhrmester ming up against а 

broken wall for 
cover or taking a chain saw to an enemy, few 
games feel as visceral as Gears of War. In the 
last installment of the trilogy, Gears of War 3 
(360), Delta Squad leader Marcus Fenix returns, 
grizzled and graying, to continue battle against 
the beasts called the Locust and face a new en- 
emy called the Lambent. With civilization in tat- 
ters and under attack from towering berserkers 
and underwater leviathans, everyone joins the 
fight, including the first playable female charac- 
ters. Co-op mode lets you and a band of brothers 
battle through the story together or stand back- 
to-back and face wave after wave of enemies in 
Horde Mode. It doesn’t end pretty. ¥¥¥¥ 


Junior knights need not apply for Dark 

Souls (360, PS3), a tough fantasy game 

loaded with dragons, golems and booby- * 

trapped dungeons. A smart note system и 

allows other players to post tips for con- 

quering what lurks ahead. Read them or TT 

pay deadly consequences. ¥¥¥ 1 Í 
PR 

ғ 


Classic car combat game Twisted Metal e 
(PS3) returns with favorites such as Sweet ID 
Tooth, the missile-Launching ice-cream 
truck, and new flying modes, including a P i= 
helicopter, to use as you battle on cliffs and > - 
in cities. Тһе 16-player online death derby "d 


With The Playboy Club debuting 
on NBC, Simon & Schuster has 
decided to reissue Kathryn Leigh 
Scott's trailblazing 1998 book, 
The Bunny Years, with a new in- 
troduction by Hugh M. Hefner. 
It's no surprise the book 
remains popular—it's 
still the most hon- 
est and accurate 
look at life inside 
the Playboy 
Clubs and their 
impact on every- 
one involved. 

Scott, who "re- 
tired her satin 
ears" in 1966, want- 
ed to write a memoir 
of her youth, but she also 
hoped to reframe the debate 
aboutthe role of the Playboy Bun- 
ny in the postfeminist world. She 
was quick to realize that most of 
the women working as Bunnies 
felt liberated and empowered; 
they were brave enough to break 
out of the era's stereotypical roles 
for women as teachers and 


housewives, and they earned 
salaries only men could dream of 
at the time. She recounts more 
than 200 first-person tales from 
former Bunnies including super- 
model Lauren Hutton, singer 
Deborah Harry, journalist and 
"America's foremost feminist," 
Gloria Steinem—who went un- 
dercover for a misguided 1963 
magazine exposé—and oth- 
ers who became doc- 
tors, lawyers and 
executives. Scott is 
no exception; she 
went on to be- 
come a soap op- 

era star and then 

a book publisher. 
"At the end of 

my second week, I 
was holding a check 

in my hands that rep- 

resented my wages and 

tips," Scott writes, "and it was 
more than my dad earned in a 
week." That was unheard of in 
the 1960s, and Scott does a 
great job celebrating both the 
adventurous spirit of the pre- 
feminist feminists who became 
Bunnies and the clubs' role іп 

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38 


write а television show for HBO called 

Bored to Death. `The lead character of 
the show, played by Jason Schwartzman, is 
"Jonathan Ames." So the character bears my 
name, but he's not me, per se. He's younger 
and has a full head of hair. He's also more 
appealing and less sexually tormented. 

His nemesis is a character called Louis 
Greene, played by John Hodgman. Greene 
is wildly unkind to Ames. Vicious even. 
Someone asked me how I write this diaboli- 
cal character, and I realized that I simply 
channel my inner self-loathing voice. I am 
both protagonist and antagonist. 

I mention this because lately when I sit 
down to write essays all I've been producing 
are ungenerous remarks directed at myself. 
What's happened is that Louis Greene is 
no longer an inner voice, relegated only to 
Bored to Death scripts. He's taken over the 
control room of my mind and has access to 
my entire PA system. 

But the thing is that these remarks, 
even as they refuse to cohere, have a cer- 
tain something, and I hate to see them go 
to waste, which is to say that I admire my 
own negative thinking. I'm a narcissist who 
revels in his flaws, loves his pimples and 
broadcasts to the world his most feeble and 
deformed qualities. 

So I thought I might put down some of 
these negative false starts, kind of like a series 
of Nietzschean aphorisms, which is a rather 
prideful way—befitting a reverse narcissist— 
to describe such sentiments. 


I went to the barbershop. This new fancy 
place where the old Italian man used to be. 
I wanted my bald bits of mange-like hair 
neatened up. 

То deal with the haircut, I got stoned. As 
I sat in the chair, with this lovely girl work- 
ing on me, I started to laugh at my hideous 
face. My eyes, with their deep rings, look as 
appealing as the anus of a frog. 

Тһе girl also trimmed my beard. I was 
looking like an Orthodox rabbi with a liver 
condition, and after the haircut I looked 
like a Soviet dissident who had been drink- 
ing his wife's cheap perfume since they 
couldn't afford alcohol. 


Being around people feels like a lie. So it's 
better to be alone. I've become all shadow, 
or nearly all shadow. Seared invisibly down 
my middle, like the stripe of a depraved 
skunk, is this terrible shame I feel. 


If I’m around a sympathetic person for more 
than an hour, I start to cry. I can't main- 
tain my mask. It falls off and I cry. This all 
comes from my heartbreak last summer. 

Теп years ago when I got my heart bro- 
ken, I developed irritable bowel syndrome. 
But now instead of diarrhea and having to 
suddenly run to a toilet and defuse the bomb 


WorldMags 


xg WE'RE HERE lo FART AROUND 


BY JONATHAN AMES 


in my gut, I begin to weep. I guess that’s 
progress. My liquidity is moving up my body, 
which is nice. It’s less messy. 

What could be interesting would be to 
weep while having diarrhea, as opposed to 
just feeling disgusted and horrified as one 
urinates out of one’s asshole. We're all so 
alone with our diarrhea. Everyone has such 
moments of shame on the toilet that no one 
else knows about. I've had hundreds of them. 


Ima sick, deluded, shriveled-cock eunuch. 
Why do I think these things? This can't pos- 
sibly work as the opening to an essay. 

But I'd also like to say that I suck as a 
father, son, friend, citizen, lover and as the 
anonymous stranger one passes on the street. 
I don't think I have any other roles. 

Oh, I should also add that my breath is 
permanently bad and that I have to keep 
my arms tight to my sides at all times so 
as to not let loose my body odor, which 
smells like chicken soup and the sperm of 
a teenage boy. 


I told my friend that this was the last time. 
The last time I would lend him money, 


it’s not really lending since nothing! 
b t 


two decades, I did egoistically delight in help- 
ing him out. I felt like the big shot. But now 
I've given him thousands of dollars and it's 
gotten out of hand. I tried to give him tough 
love the other day, telling him that as a man 
in his 50s he has to learn better how to take 
care of himself. But who am I to preach? 
Тһе worm will turn. It always does. I should 
just give to him until I can't give anymore 
and hope that when I’m broke again, һе or 
someone else will be there for me. 


My beard is a sham. I’m not a man. Гт a 
bearded lady in a freak show. 


My neighbor, a die-hard Yankees fan, 
was complaining about Derek Jeter and 
how he's really slipping now that he's 37. 
I'm 47, and I said, "We're all Derek Jeter. 
We're all getting old and dying. We have to 
root for him now more than ever." 

I found a line in my journal: "The man 
slid down the glass pane of his life." I don't 
know when I wrote this, but that's how I 
feel. I'm alone. I'm confused. I don’t let 
anyone get close to me, and it's all sliding 
away and I'm not figuring anything out 
and I'm nearly 50. I give myself such a 
hard time, but I really don't want to die. I 
want to go on hating myself forever. 


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40 


.... most of you, my loyal PLAYBOY 
Е ! » readers, know, I got married 
ШИШ) last year to Jimmy Big Balls. 
For me to commit to marriage so late in 
life, I had to love this guy. A lot. In fact, I 
love everything about Jimmy—except for 
one thing. No, not the fact that his testicles 
are so large he has to buy underwear with 
pleats. The one thing that bugs me about 
Jimmy is that he won't shut the fuck up. 

Please don't misunderstand me. I love 
talking with Jimmy, and he's one of the 
most hilarious and entertaining people 
I know. But there's one subject Jinmy 
loves to natter on about that I hate to 
hear about—his past. 

When I met Jimmy, I was just about 
to publish my autobiography, Choco- 
late, Please, which details, among other 
things, my love of all things, well, choc- 
olate. I warned Jimmy not to read the 
book because of its descriptive accounts 
of my relationships with men of the 
mocha variety, and he was smart enough 
to take my advice. 

Jimmy, on the other hand, regaled me 
with stories about his ex-girlfriends, his 
ex-wife, his drinking days, his résumé and 
his college history. And thanks to these 
tales of the good, the bad and the ugly, I 
can no longer enjoy deep-dish pizza (one 
of his ex's favorite meals), sing along to 
the Beatles’ “Till There Was You” (the 
wedding song from his first marriage) or 
watch Oklahoma! on TCM (his most recent 
ex-GF lives in that state). Why? PII tell you 
why. Because he can't keep his mouth shut! 

Guys, I get it. You've met the girl of 
your dreams. She's compassionate, under- 
standing and so supportive you feel you 
can tell her anything. You want to share 
every aspect of your life with her. Wise 
up and put your foot on the brake, Dale 
Earnhardt Jr.! Revealing too much infor- 
mation about your past to your significant 
other is like having unprotected sex with 
Courtney Love—just because you can 
doesn't mean you should. 

It's a slippery slope. Everyone wants 
honesty in their relationships, but unlike 
Palestine and Israel, there are definite 
boundaries. There are plenty of things 
you should keep your trap shut about, 
and ex-girlfriends are, of course, the big- 
gie. Sure, you have a past. Just don't tell 
your girl about it. A woman prefers to 
believe that your penis just came off the 
assembly line and she's the first owner. As 
far as I'm concerned, in my relationship, 
mine is the first congressional chamber 
you've ever put your Anthony Weiner 
in, even though you've probably put up 
enough numbers for Wilt Chamberlain 
to say "Damn!" 

The only thing worse than talking about 
an ex is showing your new girl a photo of 
an ex. Remember, guys: Women aren't 
wired like you. If your girl shows you a 
picture of her ex, you're thrilled because 


DON'T ASK 


By Lisa Lampanelli 


he has a big schnoz or a haircut that makes 
him look like a pro bowler. Women aren’t 
like that. Show her a photo to prove she’s 
prettier and she goes right to “My tits 
агеп big enough.” Seriously, you could 
show your girlfriend a photo of Bigfoot 
and she'd think, If only I could get my 
arm hair that smooth and silky! 

Another way to make your lady's legs 
close faster than a titty bar in West Holly- 
wood is to tell her what you like done to 
you in bed by saying “Му ex and I used to 
do that." Whether it's the tongue swirl, the 
pinkie stab or the old ball squeeze, tell her 
you saw it in a porno or that it was told to 
you by a gypsy. If you slip up and tell her 
your ex and you used to do it, you'll be 
more likely to get a Lorena Bobbitt than 
a Cleveland steamer. 

Talking about your past is as ridiculous 
as Sarah Palin's popularity. If a woman 
cares enough about you, she's already 
goggled you—extensively. So unless you 
arrest record id: than the Wat 


WoridMaáds 


» yo 


if you did anything horrific before the web 
was invented, it's old news. What counts is 
what you've done lately. I'm sure you're 
proud of your glory days as a great athlete 
in high school or backup lead guitarist in a 
Dokken cover band back in the 1980s, but 
the explanation for why you're working at 
McDonald's will fade any past glories. 

Do yourself a favor. Grab a pair of scis- 
sors, cut out this article and tuck it into 
your wallet right next to the condom with 
the 11/09 expiration date on it. The next 
time you're with a cute girl you're hop- 
ing to use that rubber with, take a quick 
glance at this column before you speak. 

As for Jimmy and me, I've put my foot 
down about him talking about his past. 
Instead, I allow him to talk only about 
things that have happened to him since 
our first date. As far as I'm concerned, 
page one of the Big Balls history book 
begins on April 21, 2009. And if he runs 
out of material, I just let him tell me how 
skinny and pretty I am. 

He knows that the blue balls he saves 
could be his own. 


ILLUSTRATION BY SEAN MCCABE 


"'cebook and Twitter 


Connect Wit Playboy ОП! 


+ е FACEBOOK.COM/PLAYBOY and TWITTER.COM/PLAYBOY 


Join over 5 million Playboy fans on our social networks and receive instant updates about what's going on in the 
«| world of Playboy, including behind-the-scenes snapshots from photo shoots, personal interactions with 
Playboy models, inside looks at Mansi 


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LLC Bv. Рак Im. Off. 


WorldMags 


же 


SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Quitting Smoking 
Now Greatly Reduces Serious Risks to Your Health. 


MANTRACK 


Imagine the car you want to be in when the world ends. Something 
in your way? Drive over it. Getting chased by a drooling zombie? 
Hammer the engine and you’re gone. That’s the visceral impression 
we got while bombing through Chicago with Jonathan Ward in one 
of his Ісоп FJ44s. Ward started Icon, his bespoke truck company, 
five years ago. He starts with a Toyota FJ chassis, marries it to a Cor- 
vette V8 and tricks the rest out according to the customer’s wishes. 
No two are alike. “They’re built to order. It starts with a consultation 
with the client,” Ward shouts over the engine’s roaring exhaust note. 
“We take into account everything from the primary user’s height and 
weight to the locales where the car will be driven.” The sun visors are 
the same found in the cockpit of a Learjet. The windshield-frame 


A Bitters Taste 


Bitters used to be the hidden ingredient that 
perfectly balanced a manhattan. But today—in 
the era of artisanal 
booze—it’s takinga 

star turn of its own. 
Exhibit A: Brooklyn 
Hemispherical Bitters 
(520, brooklynbitters 
.com), which hand- 
crafts eight delectable 


| BROOKLYN | 
HEMISPHERICAL ۴ 


BITTER, 


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ANGOSTURA 


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Bespoke style meets utility in this all-terrain ass kicker 


AMO 1 “4 Miri fgg sport growing into its 
li 9-5. pastime. 


OFF-ROAD :: IMBIBE :: REMINISCE 


latches come 
from a company 
that makes heavy- 
duty latches for 
meat lockers. 
“Тһе idea,” says 
Ward as we weave through traffic, “was to continue the design 
ethic of the original Land Cruiser with all modern components. 
The Icon is designed to last for decades, and you can beat the piss 
out of it.” So far Ward has sold nearly 80 trucks; customers include 
celebrities and Fortune 500 CEOs. The Ғ244, pictured, ranges 
from $135,000 to $190,000. Interested? Go to icon4x4.com. 


The Icon’s 
custom cockpit 


When It Was 
a Game 


Adorn the museum 
wing of your man cave 
with Riddell’s throwback 
football helmets (S260, 
riddell.com). From the | 7 
€ 
Tampa Bay Buccaneers' 
Creamsicle "Buccaneer 
Bruce" atrocity of the 1970s 
to the original 1960 headgear 
of the Boston Patriots (right), each 


= MANTRACK 


THE REPLACEMENTS 


Call 
Waiting 

Who cares if you 
mistakenly aban- 
don your BlackBerry 
in a cab? For $50 
with a new AT&T 
contract, the HTC 
Status (att.com/ 
wireless) brings to 
bear all the usual 
smartphone capa- 
bilities—a camera, 
access to e-mail, Face- 
book functionality and 
apps galore. 


In the Bag 


You arrive in Tahiti, head 
to baggage claim and— 
мһоа!-іһе airline has 
lost your luggage. But 
don’t sweat; you didn’t 
spend a bundle. The sturdy 
and attractive U.S. Trav- 
eler four-piece luggage 
set (5100, bedbathand 
beyond.com) costs only a 
single benjamin. 


If you’re the type to 
leave your watch behind 
on a hotel nightstand, 
Timex has you covered. 
Its Easy Reader ($35, 
timex.com) is equally 
easy on the wallet. 


Eye Spy 
We've all done it: You sit down to eat lunch over midday 
drinks, and you forget your shades on the table after paying the 

bill, never to see them again. Soothe your forgetfulness with the Original Pilot sunglasses 
from AO Eyewear ($74, aoeyewear.com). They save on cash but don't skimp on style. 


It's not you, it'S your camera that has a way of misplacing itself, especially amid 
the bustle of vacation. Luckily, the HP CW i@ital camera ($63, shopping net 


.hp.com) won't consume too many travel aM ау: 
44 everything you need to preserve your me Bor OT ags 


7% WorldMags 


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Sera aS СЕ 
(c pis N Хү БАСА. АҚЫ» 
СОА. 
K ANGST 2/47 1 4 MY, 


MICHAEL JORDAN 


THE NEW АС СЕ FROM: MICHAEL JORDAN 


Му fiancée and I have decided 
not to have children. We don't 
bring it up in conversation, but 
when people with kids find out, 
they attack our position as if it 
were a threat. Why do parents 
feel they have the right to tell 
us we should reproduce?—4A.S., 
Des Moines, Iowa 

They recognize quality genes when 
they see them. As psychologist Ellen 
Walker points out in her book Com- 
plete Without Kids, members of any 
social minority (e.g., childless cou- 
ples, atheists, nonrecyclers, libertar- 
ians) will have moments when they 
feel misunderstood. You could turn 
every conversation starter about your 
status into a lecture on population 
control, the meaning of the sexual 
revolution and people who shouldn't 
have children but do, or you could 
follow Walker's advice and say, *I 
decided not to have children, and Pm 
comfortable with that," before gra- 
ciously adding, “But tell me about 
your kids." If an activist breeder 
challenges your decision, don't 
take it personally, says Karen Fos- 
ter, author of No Way Baby! (karen 
foster.net), in which she refutes the 
most common criticisms of the child- 
free. “An aggressive reaction can 
usually be explained by the fact that 
misery loves company,” she argues. 
“You opted out of parenthood, and 
often a parent is thinking, Why 
didn't I think of that? It’s not accept- 
able to admit it, but a lot of par- 
ents have regrets. People who give 
speeches about how their kids are the 
greatest thing that ever happened 
to them sound like they’re trying to 
convince themselves.” If you're in the 
mood for debate, ask your interroga- 
tor why he or she reproduced, espe- 
cially now that reliable birth control 
and cultural norms make it optional. 
(Twenty percent of women in their 
40s don’t have children, and not 
one of them is considered a spinster.) 
Parents almost always have a harder 
time explaining why they had kids 
than nonparents do when explaining 
why they chose not to. 


On mornings after I drink 
beer, my nose runs a lot. Is 
this caused by the beer, or is it 
a coincidence?—C.S., Philadel- 
phia, Pennsylvania 

It may be a mild allergic reaction 
to an ingredient in the beer, most 
likely the barley or hops. (Allergic reactions to 
brewer’s yeast are apparently less common.) If 
your symptoms become more pronounced, or if 
you re curious, have a dermatologist conduct 
a skin-prick test. Or see if you have the same 
reaction to gluten-free beer. It could be worse: A 
Dutch dermatologist once treated a 30-year-old 
woman with a beer allergy so severe her face 
became swollen and itchy whenever she entered 


calls “Barbie boobs.” 


PLAYBOY 
ADVISOR 


My girlfriend admires the body painting on PLAYBOY 
models such as those shown at Halloween parties at 
the Mansion. She is considering having this done and 
going to a party with me. Does she need to be shaved? 
Does it hurt? How long does it take? How do you get 
the paint off?—].L., Folsom, California 

Washing the paint off is the best part. We asked Mark 
Frazier of FrazierArts.com, who covers the women for our 
parties and pictorials, for his advice. He uses alcohol-based 
paints that won't run when the models sweat. But because it's 
applied with an airbrush and must be removed with rubbing 
alcohol, it's not practical for casual use. Instead, your best 
option is to buy body paint in cake form and apply it with 
sponges. That's what clowns and face painters do, so supplies 
are easy to find online. If your girlfriend plans to make a 
public appearance, her chances of being detained diminish 
if she's wearing a G-string and her nipples are covered with 
pasties or surgical tape to the point that she has what Frazier 
Your penis should also be covered, even 
if you paint a zipper on it. Trust us on that one. 


а bar. If her husband kissed her after drinking 
beer, her mouth would become red and itchy 
within minutes. The doctor didn’t investigate 
what in the brew caused this response, but one 
of his other patients with a similar reaction 
waggallergic to malt. In a more recent case, а 
` break out World and lose ao 


dmags 


І slept with my husband's best 
friend's wife. My husband is 
fine with it. His friend is not. 
I thought most men would be 
happy if their wives had a girl- 
friend. Am I wrong?—D.E., 
Seattle, Washington 

You may be right about men in 
general, but you're dealing with 
only two of them. When initiating 
an affair, it’s always risky to seek 
permission after the fact. In this 
case it was a split decision—based 
оп his reaction, you didn't cheat on 
your husband, but your girlfriend 
made a cuckold of hers. 


How do you cook a steak so 
it’s pink from edge to edge but 
has a brown crust?—K.T., Balti- 
more, Maryland 

The secret is sous vide, which is 
French for “under vacuum.” As 
Chris Young, Maxime Bilet and 
Nathan Myhrvold explain in their 
six-volume, 2,438-page Modern- 
ist Cuisine: The Art and Science of 
Cooking, the trick is to cook the meat 
while it's vacuum sealed. To approxi- 
mate this at home, place each steak 
in а BPA-free zip-closure bag with 
any seasonings and remove as much 
air as possible. Use low or medium 
heat to bring the water to 1.8 degrees 
Fahrenheit hotter than the recom- 
mended core temperature. Modernist 
Cuisine contains a chart with optimal 
temperatures for various cuts. As an 
example, for a rare rib eye, cook until 
the core reaches 129 degrees accord- 
ing to your digital probe thermom- 
eter. If you prefer medium rare, the 
core should be 133 degrees, and for 
medium it should be 140. The thicker 
the steak, the longer this will take, but 
most cuts require 30 minutes to an 
hour. The cooked meat will appear 
gray, but that's normal. To brown the 
surface, sweep a butane torch over 
the serving side or place the steak in 
a metal non-Teflon pan coated with a 
high-temperature oil for about 20 sec- 
onds. The pan should be hot enough 
that it's just about to smoke. 


TOMER HANUKA 


Му wife asked me to name 
something on my bucket list. 
I said I'd like to take a cruise. 
She said she wanted a gang 
bang. I have never been con- 
cerned about her cheating, but 
now I'm not so sure. Is it nor- 
mal for a woman to want a gang 
bang?—B.K., Minersville, Pennsylvania 

You want a boat; your wife wants a train. 
Don't freak out and make your courageous 
spouse regret being honest with you about 
her fantasies. Women are as randy as men 
but spend their lives being discouraged from 
expressing their desires for fear they will be 
dismissed as sluts. If your wife dreams of 
being “taken” by several men at once, why 


47 


P L A Y B O Y 


48 


would you assume she would organize such 
an event without your consent and partici- 
pation? You may never be comfortable with 
turning this fantasy into a reality, but you can 
use it to your advantage in the bedroom by 
weaving her a tale of multiple seduction, with 
dildos as stand-ins. We'd also want to know 
what else is on that naughty list of hers. 


During sex my wife likes to be tied with 
her hands behind her back, but her 
bottom is so large we're not able to get 
her wrists together. Do you have any 
suggestions?—R.L., St. Louis, Missouri 
You’ve discovered one of the challenges of 
bootyliciousness. The easiest solution is leather 
cuffs that are attached with a series of quick 
links with or without a short chain so the length 
can be adjusted. Several pairs of handcuffs 
linked together also work but make it difficult 
for a bottom to lie comfortably on her back. 
If you prefer rope, use two or three six-to-12- 
foot lengths and obi knots, which are the type 
used to secure the belts on martial arts uni- 
forms. "Apply an obi-knot cuff to the bottoms 
left wrist, then bring her arm behind her back, 
bending her elbow as far upward as she can 
reasonably tolerate," explains Jay Wiseman in 
his Erotic Bondage Handbook. "Separate the 
two tails, then run one tail over the bottom's 
right shoulder and the other under her right 
armpit. Dress the tails and tie them together. 
Repeat this process for the right wrist." If your 
bottom is able to wriggle free, despite the threat 
of punishment, Wiseman outlines in his book a 
few refinements to tighten the bonds of love. 


Is there any way to repair small scratches 
on your car without taking it to a body 
shop?—R.L., Arlington, Virginia 

If the scratches are tiny, start with the fin- 
est grade of rubbing compound, preferably 
applied with an electric buffer. If youre lucky, 
the scratch isn’t a scratch but rubber, plastic 
or paint that comes off easily. If the scratch 
has penetrated the clear coat but not the paint 
or metal, sand down the surrounding paint 
with ultrafine 2,000-to-3,000-grit wet/dry 
sandpaper to the level of the scratch. This 
can be tricky, however, so it’s a good idea to 
have a body shop take a look first. If you sand 
too far you may end up having to reapply the 
clear coat or repaint the panel. One trick is to 
fill the scratch with shoe polish of a contrast- 
ing color; when it disappears, stop sanding. 
Once you've finished, polish out the sanding 
scratches with rubbing compound. 


This may be a dumb question, but can you 
get an STD from masturbating?—M.S., 
Katy, Texas 

No. That's what's so great about it! 
Although, on further reflection, we suppose a 
communal sex toy could do you in. In a case 
reported in Genitourinary Medicine, a skipper 
contracted gonorrhea from a sex doll he found 
in the bed of the ship's engineer, who had left 
in a hurry after ejaculating into it to attend to 
engine trouble. So avoid doing that. 


| am 20 and my girlfriend is 19. We have 
been dating for nine months. Over the 


weekend she asked to use my laptop to 
check her e-mail. I said sure but told her 
my computer would store her password. 
Her angry reaction surprised me because 
she has my password and it's no big deal. 
I told her that while I didn't want to rum- 
mage through her e-mail, the fact that she 
doesn't trust me with something as simple 
as an e-mail password makes me suspi- 
cious. Am I invading her privacy, or should 
this give me reason to believe something is 
amiss?—H.P, Miami, Florida 

There's nothing simple about an e-mail 
password, even among the faithful. Why did 
you give up yours? 


M, girlfriend oftwo years broke up with 
me. Because we're still friends, she asks 
me to do favors such as walk her dog, 
pick her up at the airport, sign for pack- 
ages, etc. I can't say no. What should I 
do?—M.J., Portland, Oregon 

Friendship is possible among ex-lovers but 
usually requires a cooling-off period that lasts 
months if not years—and two new relation- 
ships. We like what Dr. Alex Lickerman, a 
contributor to Psychology Today, wrote about 
the suffocating nature of what happens in the 
meantime, which he describes as "the good- 
guy contract." After being dumped 20 years 
ago by the first woman he loved, Lickerman 
found he couldn't refuse her frequent requests 
for favors, even recording television shows 
for her. He describes the implied contract this 
way: "I agree to be nice to you, to advise you, 
to sacrifice for you—and in return you agree 
to believe that I am wise, compassionate and 
excellent as a human being in every way. And, 
most important, you like me." The fallacy is 
that by continuing to fulfill the obligations of 
a boyfriend, your ex will again fulfill hers, and 
the relationship will be restored. Lickerman 
eventually found his backbone and voided the 
contract not only with his ex but also with other 
friends he realized were part of his life only 
because their presence boosted his self-esteem. 
As he learned, you have to be able to disap- 
point people. Genuine friends are the ones who 
stick around even when that happens. 


l ama 41-year-old woman diagnosed 
with female sexual aversion disorder. 
My husband is five years younger and 
has a healthy sex drive. I haven't been 
able to find information online. Can you 
help me before my happy marriage isn't 
so happy?—L.C., Las Vegas, Nevada 
The person who diagnosed you couldn't tell 
you anything about it? We're suspicious. As 
defined by the American Psychiatric Associa- 
tion, a woman with female sexual aversion dis- 
order experiences extreme anxiety or disgust at 
the idea of having genital contact with a part- 
ner. But many psychologists argue that this is 
not a stand-alone dysfunction but an oft over- 
looked complication of social anxiety, panic dis- 
order or obsessive-compulsive disorder. It may 
originate in a traumatic experience such as 
sexatal abuse, but most therapists believe it has 


forced, if only le atient convine* 
1 | tt 
4 Workd Mags 


which is an involuntary muscie spasm tMi 
makes penetration painful. One step down on 
the psychiatric scale is hypoactive sexual desire 
disorder, which is when a person is distressed 
by a lack of fantasies or libido. (This diagnosis 
and female sexual aversion disorder may soon 
be merged into sexual interest/arousal disor- 
der.) If your horny husband is happily married 
to you, we have a hard time believing you suf- 
fer from sexual aversion disorder. More likely 
you have the same problem that frustrates mil- 
lions of long-term couples—boredom. And the 
remedy for that is to quit looking for excuses. 
Make some appointments for sex, share some 
fantasies, buy some toys. Don't feel like you 
have to be turned on to initiate or accept an 
invitation; for many women, the arousal comes 
only after the touching begins. 


| һауе hair all over. Are you aware of a 
long-term method to get rid of it? I've 
tried shaving and waxing, but the hair re- 
turns. I swim a lot, so I'm perhaps overly 
aware of it. —N.S., Danville, Illinois 

You often hear of techniques that supposedly 
provide "permanent hair removal," but the 
only place that seems to occur is—oh, cruel 
irony—the top of a man's head. Waxing is 
your best option, though shaving your back 
тау be less daunting with an extender such as 
the Razorba (razorba.com). Laser hair removal 
will keep the fur off longer, especially if you’re 
light skinned with dark hair, but it’s expensive, 
credible information about its long-term safety 
and effectiveness is lacking, and the hair may 
grow back. Electrolysis is also a possibility but 
too painful and tedious for large areas. 


I have been attracted to a friend since 
high school. Two years ago I told her 
how I felt. She gave me the lame excuse 
that she didn’t want to ruin our friend- 
ship if it didn’t work out. We are great 
for each other, but I don’t think she real- 
izes it. How do I prove to her we should 
be together?—C.J., Muncie, Indiana 

You don’t. You aren’t solving a math 
theorem or applying for a job. Your muse may 
come to realize you are the guy for her, but 
we doubt it. And that epiphany certainly isn't 
going to happen unless you go away. Besides, 
can you be friends with a woman you re pur- 
suing? Don't get caught up in a good-guy 
contract. Not only is it a waste of your youth, 
but you may overlook a woman who finds the 
risk of losing you as a friend less daunting 
than not having you as a boyfriend. 


All reasonable questions—from fashion, 
food and drink, stereos and sports cars to 
dating dilemmas, taste and etiquette—will 
be personally answered if the writer in- 
cludes a self-addressed, stamped envelope. 
The most interesting, pertinent questions 
will be presented in these pages. Write the 
Playboy Advisor, 680 North Lake Shore 
Drive, Chicago, Illinois 60611, or send 
e-mail to advisor@playboy.com. For up- 
dates, visit playboyadvisor.com and follow 
@playboyadvisor on Twitter. 


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A candid conversation with the comic goofball turned leading man (or vice versa) 
about the hipness of AOL, his hatred of cars and turning insecurity into stardom 


Comedy has never been an art form that rewards 
beauty or self-confidence. The greatest comic 
actors—such as Woody Allen, Ricky Gervais, 
Charlie Chaplin and Will Ferrell—are less- 
than-stunning physical specimens who wear 
their insecurities on their sleeves. And then there 
are the anomalies, like Paul Rudd. With his 
boyish good looks and charming personality he 
seems like somebody who should have the world 
wrapped around his finger. And yet few actors 
working today are as believable at portraying 
what it feels like to be painfully self-conscious 
and socially awkward. 

Rudd’s movie career has run the gamut 
of human insecurities. There was the 2005 
comedy hit The 40-Year-Old Virgin, in which 
Rudd played an electronics store employee 
struggling to forget, or maybe win back, a 
cheating ex-girlfriend. In 2007’s Knocked 
Up he was a frustrated husband and father 
acutely aware of the freedoms he'd lost, at one 
point announcing at a restaurant, “Isn’t it 
weird, though, when you have a kid and all 
your dreams and hopes go right out the win- 
dow?” And in the 2009 comedy I Love You, 
Man, he was a real estate agent clumsily try- 
ing to connect with a male friend. 

Director David Wain, who has cast Rudd 
in several of his films over the past decade— 
from the 2001 cult comedy Wet Hot American 


Summer to his next feature, Wanderlust— 
believes the dichotomy between Rudd’s pretty-boy 
exterior and his not so easily concealed insecurity 
is a large part of the actor’s appeal. “Paul Rudd 
is a handsome leading man,” Wain admits. “But 
in his deepest core he’s still the dorky suburban 
Jewish bar mitzvah DJ he was as a teenager.” 

Wain isn’t being hyperbolic. Rudd actually 
did earn a living in the early 1990s as an MC 
and DJ for bar and bat mitzvahs across south- 
ern California, sometimes performing under the 
stage name Donnie the Dweeb. But the suburban 
kid from Overland Park, Kansas—he was born 
in Passaic, New Jersey but moved to Kansas at 
the age of 10 with his father, Michael, a sales 
manager for TWA, and mother, Gloria—had 
bigger plans than just hosting parties for Jewish 
teenagers. One of his first films was the 1995 
comedy Clueless. 

After Clueless, Rudd’s acting work came in 
essentially two speeds: cute or crude. He was 
either the nonthreatening, mildly quirky boy 
crush in movies like The Object of My Affec- 
tion and 200 Cigarettes and on TV shows 
like Friends. Or he was the handsome guy not 
afraid to make a spectacle of himself in com- 
edies like Anchorman: The Legend of Ron 
Burgundy and Wet Hot American Summer. 
He eventually made the transition to leading 
man, and his track record has been hit (Role 


Models and I Love You, Man) and miss (How 
Do You Know and Dinner for Schmucks). Soon 
he'll try again, with Wanderlust, in which he 
and Jennifer Aniston star as a New York cou- 
ple trying to reinvent themselves at a hippie 
commune in rural Georgia. 

Eric Spitznagel, who has interviewed Tina Fey 
and Steve Carell for PLAYBOY, caught up with 
Rudd at the Chateau Marmont in West Hol- 
lywood. He reports: “Rudd and I spent most of 
an afternoon at the Marmont’s outdoor restau- 
rant, where we consumed four full pots of coffee 
in rapid succession. Rudd also enjoyed some 
scrambled eggs with extra bacon and claimed 
that the artery-clogging meal was a direct order 
from director Judd Apatow, who apparently 
wants Rudd to ‘pack on some pounds’ for an 
upcoming movie. For a man who jokes as often 
as Rudd, it can be difficult to tell when he’s 
just pulling your leg. But he did scarf down 
an awful lot of bacon.” 


PLAYBOY: You seriously have to gain 
weight for a movie role? 

RUDD: I know, it’s weird. It's the opposite 
of what the studios normally want or what 
other directors want. But it’s different 
with Judd. He always says, every time we 
work together, that he wants me to gain 
weight. He says, “I like a fat Rudd.” 


“There’s nothing I find more revolting than 
when some 22-year-old singer thanks the fans 
and says he’s doing it for them. Fucking liar. 
You're not doing this for your fans. You're doing 
this to put food on the table.” 


"I have been naked in a lot of my movies. 
Тг ез something inherently funny about the 


ale body, particularly mine. Ryant 
(9 WorldMags 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY DAVID ROSE 


"When my wife was pregnant, she got upset 
with me because I didn’t read the baby books. 
But what's the worst that can happen? It's not 
as though if I didn't read the books our son 
wouldn't have been born." 


51 


P L A Y B O Y 


52 


PLAYBOY: Is that because it makes you look 
more human? 

RUDD: I don't know. Maybe. I just like the 
excuse to eat bacon. I don't have far to 
go anyway. My gut just needs that little 
extra bit. 

PLAYBOY: And this is a typical request from 
Apatow? 

RUDD: Oh absolutely. There's a line in The 
40-Year-Old Virgin when my character tells 
Steve Carell what it's like to have your 
heart broken and how you're constantly 
gaining and losing weight. I improvised 
that line because, before we started shoot- 
ing the movie, I took Judd’s request to 
put on weight maybe a little too far. And 
the studio said, ^You're a fat ass. Lose 
some weight." So during the course of 
the movie I tried to drop a few pounds. 
PLAYBOY: That could cause a continuity 
problem. 

RUDD: А huge problem. And I figured my 
weight is going to fluctuate anyway. If I 
mention it in a scene, maybe that'll cover 
my bases and justify why I'm 10 pounds 
heavier in some scenes and 10 pounds 
lighter in others. 

PLAYBOY: Is the new film you're doing with 
Apatow, currently called This Is Forty, a 
sequel to Knocked Up? 

RUDD: It's not really a sequel. It's more 
like a spin-off. It's about Pete and Deb- 
bie, the couple Leslie Mann and I play in 
the first movie, with the same kids. We've 
been in rehearsals for about six months, 
reading through scenes and improvising 
some ideas. 

PLAYBOY: Does it ever feel as though you're 
doing therapy for Apatow? 

RUDD: How do you mean? 

PLAYBOY: Your fictional wife is played 
by Judd's actual wife, Leslie Mann, and 
your fictional kids are played by his actual 
daughters, Iris and Maude. It's as though 
he's making these movies to examine his 
own marriage under a microscope. 
RUDD: There's a reason it seems as though 
he's doing that. And that's because he 
absolutely is. We're both doing it. It was 
the same thing іп Knocked Up. A lot of stuff 
in that movie was right out of my life and 
right out of Judd's life. Judd asked me to 
write down things from my marriage, and 
we'd use that in improvisations. 
PLAYBOY: Such as? 

RUDD: Well, when my wife was pregnant, 
she got upset with me because I didn't read 
the baby books. She looked at that, under- 
standably, as a hostile gesture. But I had 
an argument in my defense. What did the 
cavemen do without What to Expect When 
You're Expecting? You know what I mean? 
It's all bullshit. I was like, "It'll be fine. We 
don't need to go to birthing classes or any 
of that nonsense." What's the worst that 
can happen? It's not as though if I didn't 
read the books and go to the classes our 
son wouldn't have been born. 

PLAYBOY: Is it true you became friends 
with Apatow because of a mutual love of 
Steve Martin? 

RUDD: Here's what happened: I was at a 


dinner party with a group of people, and 
we were talking about fake names—you 
know, how it's difficult to come up with a 
really great fake name. It's a specific type 
of gift. You don't want to go too far into 
the silly, and you don't want to go too far 
into the banal. I always thought one ofthe 
funniest names ever was Gern Blanston, 
which came from a Steve Martin routine 
on one of his early records. 

PLAYBOY: Comedy Is Not Pretty! 

RUDD: Yeah, that's the one. So I brought 
up Gern Blanston, and a woman at the 
table said, ^Oh my God, that's what Judd 
Apatow's e-mail address means." It turned 
out his address was GernBlanston@aol 
.com. I thought, Wow, that's a very cool, 
arcane reference. 

PLAYBOY: Before you finish that story, a 
quick side question: Why do so many 
comics have AOL addresses? Steve Carell 
has an AOL address, as do Tina Fey and 
Sarah Silverman. What about you? 
RUDD: I'm AOL. 

PLAYBOY: Why is that? Is it a coincidence 
that almost everybody in comedy is still 
on AOL? 

RUDD: That's a good question. I never 


I've had varying degrees of 
helplessness and shame and 
anger throughout my life. 
I'm really glad it doesn't go 
away, because I've learned to 
capitalize on that feeling. 


thought about it. I finally got a Gmail 
account, but I never use it. I like AOL 
because it's so embarrassing. People look 
at you as if you're a fossil. Which you are. 
But I enjoy that embarrassment. I like 
being on the outside. Having an AOL 
address is like wearing Ocean Pacific 
shorts. It's so uncool that it's cool. 
PLAYBOY: Anyway, sorry—you were saying 
about Apatow? 

RUDD: So I have his e-mail address, and 
I don't know him, but I'm a fan of Freaks 
and Geeks. When I got home from the din- 
ner party that night, I wrote him a short 
note congratulating him on a great choice 
in e-mail names. And he wrote back right 
away because he was impressed I knew 
who Gern Blanston was. Actually, the first 
thing he said to me was “Cool, now maybe 
I сап get some free tickets to Neil LaBute 
plays.” Because at the time that was the 
main thing Га been doing. 

PLAYBOY: How long did it take before you 
met him in person? 

Rupp: About a year. We e-mailed each 


ra Wor time. I wasn 't Mags 


seeing him was weira. Iı feit as thoug PI 
was meeting my Asian pen pal. I really 
wanted to make a great first impression. 
PLAYBOY: It probably didn’t help that 
you'd grown some muttonchops and а 
mustache. 

RUDD: [Laughs] Yeah, that was pretty great. 
I wanted to do something special for the 
role. I was working on Friends that week, 
so I was able to raid the show's wardrobe 
department. I don't normally dress up for 
an audition to try to impress the direc- 
tor unless it's something I really want 
and I think dressing up might help. The 
wardrobe supervisor on Friends helped 
me find this horrible polyester suit, and 
I had enough time before the audition to 
grow a mustache and the chops. It wasn't 
fully grown in, but it was enough to give 
them the general idea. 

PLAYBOY: You've never been afraid to use 
your own body for a joke, whether it's 
growing a mustache or getting naked. 
RUDD: I have been naked in a lot of my 
movies. There's something inherently 
funny about the naked male body, par- 
ticularly mine. Ryan Reynolds, sure, it 
makes sense why he'd strip down. But 
not me. I shouldn't be allowed to. 
PLAYBOY: But you keep your clothes on 
in Wanderlust. 

RUDD: Is that surprising? 

PLAYBOY: Well, the movie does take 
place at a hippie commune, and there 
is male nudity. 

RUDD: I was actually pretty thankful I got 
to keep my pants on for this one. I'm a 
big fan of movie nudity. A male ass shot 
is the cheapest and best laugh ever. But 
it's mortifying to do. When I showed 
my butt in The 40-Year-Old Virgin, all I 
could think was, This is going to be up 
on all those big screens. I was very self- 
conscious about doing it. But I also have 
a desperate and deep-seated need to be 
accepted and liked to make up for my 
massive insecurities. 

PLAYBOY: Aside from worrying about the 
finished product, you don't mind getting 
naked for a film crew? 

RUDD: I don't mind it, but I do feel bad 
for them. There's that scene in Our Idiot 
Brother where I'm naked and getting 
painted from the side, and because of the 
angle of the shot, our soundman—who 
was a guest soundman, by the way, and 
not even our regular guy—had an unfor- 
tunate view. He was holding up the boom 
mike and standing right in front of me. 
My legs were spread, and he was pretty 
much staring at my hairy taint. 

PLAYBOY: The poor guy. 

RUDD: I felt so bad for him. I could tell by 
his expression that he was pretty bummed 
out. Afterward I was like, "Sorry about 
that, man." I don't think he forgave me. 
PLAYBOY: You mentioned having massive 
insecurities. Are you being coy, or do you 
actually have insecurities? 

RUDD: Are you kidding me? I'm riddled 
with insecurity. My entire career exists 
because of insecurity. 


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53 


P L A Y B O Y 


54 


PLAYBOY: You honestly believe that? 
RUDD: Of course I do. Why would anyone 
be an actor if he or she weren't insecure? 
'That's why anybody pursues this kind of 
work. I remember when my sister was 
born and I was insecure because I wasn't 
getting all the attention anymore. I think 
you can draw a straight line from that to 
my entire acting career. 

PLAYBOY: Some actors claim they do it for 
the love of the craft. 

RUDD: I hear that all the time, and it's 
such horseshit. That's such a lie. There's 
nothing I find more revolting than when 
I'm watching American Idol and some 
22-year-old singer thanks the fans and 
says he's doing it for them. “I’m doing 
it for you guys!" Fucking liar. You're not 
doing this for your fans. You're doing 
this because you want to put food on the 
table for your family, and you want to be 
loved by strangers so your self-loathing 
isn't as rampant. 

PLAYBOY: You seem very neurotic for some- 
one who grew up in Kansas. 

RUDD: I've lived all over the place. My dad 
worked for TWA, so we were constantly 
moving. We moved to Kansas the first 
time when I was five, then left when I 
was six and a half or seven and moved to 
Anaheim. We were in California for three 
years and then moved back to Kansas. My 
parents have been there ever since. 
PLAYBOY: Did Kansas feel like home? 
RUDD: Not at the time. I was Jewish in 
a not very Jewish part of town, going 
to a not very Jewish school. My parents 
were European—my dad and mom were 
both born in London, and my dad grew 
up in New York. I always felt a little 
out of place. I didn’t have a lot in com- 
mon with the other kids. Га ask them, 
“Where are you from?” And they’d say, 
“Here. What do you mean? I’m from 
here.” [laughs] It was very much a high 
school football, Friday Night Lights scene, 
which I think it is in a lot of the country. 
I was not the Friday Night Lights kind of 
athlete, though I loved football, and I 
loved the Steelers. 

PLAYBOY: The Pittsburgh Steelers? But you 
lived in Kansas. 

RUDD: І started following them when I 
lived in California. My dad never gave a 
shit about sports. Once the Dodgers left 
Brooklyn he was like, “Fuck sports.” But 
he worked with a guy who was from Pitts- 
burgh, and he loved the Steelers. He took 
me to a game when the Steelers played 
the Los Angeles Rams, and I got caught 
up in the excitement of it. All of a sudden 
rooting for the Steelers became my thing. 
To this day, if I need to remember a num- 
ber, I'll associate it with a 1970s Steelers 
player. It's my mnemonic system. 
PLAYBOY: Is that a joke, or have you actu- 
ally done that? 

RUDD: That's entirely true. On the day I 
met my wife, I asked her for her phone 
number, and ГЇЇ never forget this: The 
last four digits were 1764. I was like, “Oh, 
that's easy. Brian Sipe, Steve Furness." 


Brian Sipe was a quarterback for the 
Cleveland Browns, but his number was 17. 
And Furness, of course, was number 64. 
PLAYBOY: In a way, you were letting her 
know in advance exactly what kind of guy 
she was getting involved with. 

RUDD: Exactly. She was like, "What the 
fuck are you talking about?" The fact that 
she went out with me anyway says a lot 
about her. She knew I was a big Steelers 
fan and a big nerd. In fact, you want to 
know how much ofa Steelers nerd I am? I 
once made a player entirely out of Legos. 
I made a Lego version of Craig Colquitt, 
the Steelers punter. 

PLAYBOY: Was he your favorite player? 
RUDD: No, John Stallworth was my favor- 
ite. But Colquitt was number five, and I 
had only enough black pieces to do a five. 
It was pretty good, if I may say so myself. 
I made a lot of things out of Legos when 
I was a kid, but this was my piéce de 
résistance. I did it when I was 10, and 
when I left home after high school, my 
mom kept it. When people would come 
over, she'd show it to them. It survived 
for 30 years. Just a few years ago I was 
in Kansas City after my dad passed away, 


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and I found out the punter for the Kan- 
sas City Chiefs, Dustin Colquitt, lives 
across the street. 
PLAYBOY: Any relation to Craig Colquitt? 
RUDD: Dustin is Craig’s son. So my mom 
invited him over, and I brought out the 
Lego statue to show him. I was like, 
“Неу, look what I made when I was 10. 
I was really into your dad." I think he 
was a little freaked out at first, but then 
he was like, “Му dad's coming to town in 
a few weeks. He's got to see this." I had 
to fly back to New York, but I was like, 
"Sure, bring him over. I'd be honored." 
But a few days later my mother was mov- 
ing some things around and accidentally 
bumped the Lego Craig Colquitt, and 
it shattered all over the floor. So Craig 
never got a chance to see it. 
PLAYBOY: You must have been devastated. 
RUDD: No, I thought it was hilarious. 
My mother was destroyed. She still feels 
guilty about it. She'll probably burst into 
tears when she reads this. But I had no 
tional attachment to it at all. I just 
a WOT rir] it survived forsot 


IdMags 


was going to come over and see it, СС, 
it's all over. 

PLAYBOY: Were you the class clown in 
high school? 

RUDD: I wanted to be, but I wasn't always 
good at it. I was definitely into telling 
jokes and trying to make people laugh 
as a way of dealing with my insecurities. 
Once I was driving in my Jeep with some- 
body, and I thought it'd be hilarious if I 
jumped out ofthe car in the middle of our 
conversation and then ran next to it, con- 
tinuing to talk as if nothing was wrong. 
But it didn't work out so well. [laughs] I 
ended up slicing my hands open pretty 
badly. I almost killed myself, and I didn't 
even get a laugh. The girl in the car with 
me was just horrified. 

PLAYBOY: When you're playing a character 
who's less than socially graceful, do you 
ever draw on a painful memory from your 
youth, a specific time or place when you 
felt uncomfortable in your own skin? 
RUDD: Sure, yeah, I've done that. 
PLAYBOY: Can you give us an example? 
RUDD: Oh God, there were so many. 
Before you even finished that question, 
some memory just became unlocked 
in my brain. I was at a football game— 
this may have been in junior high or my 
freshman year of high school. I had the 
great fortune of having puberty hit me 
like a Mack truck, where overnight my 
hair curled up like Hall and Oates's. My 
skin went bananas and I had acne all 
over the place. My mom told me not to 
pick at my zits because if I did they'd scar 
over. So I didn't touch them, and I was 
very self-conscious about it. One night I 
was at a party, and there was this girl I 
had a major crush on. She was part ofa 
social clique I couldn't get anywhere near 
because I was so unpopular. I knew peo- 
ple had been making jokes about my zit, 
so I started joking about it too. I wanted 
them to think I didn't care, that this huge 
megazit on my face was no big deal to me. 
And this other girl, one of the leaders of 
the clique, said, ^Oh, Paul is just looking 
for attention, like he always does." She 
just belittled me in front of everybody, 
including the girl I liked. 

PLAYBOY: Did you say anything in your 
defense? 

RUDD: Not at all. I just laughed. But 
inside, of course, I was distraught. I 
went into the bathroom and looked in 
the mirror and was like, “Fuck it!" I just 
squooshed the zit and pus squirted every- 
where. The way I felt in that moment 
is the same feeling I've had in varying 
degrees throughout my life. It's helpless- 
ness and shame and anger. 

PLAYBOY: Does it go away? 

RUDD: It doesn't. And in some cases I'm 
really glad it doesn't go away, because, at 
least for me, I've learned to capitalize on 
that feeling. I've devoted my entire acting 
career to reproducing and dwelling on 
that feeling. Every character I've played 
is just a variation of that kid with a zit he's 
terrified of popping. 


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56 


PLAYBOY: Did you feel like that awkward 
kid when you visited President Obama at 
the White House a few years ago? 

RUDD: Oh man, completely. I sweated 
through a sports coat, which I'm pretty 
sure is the first time I've ever done that. 
Nothing about that was planned. I was 
in Washington, D.C. to shoot How Do You 
Knou, and Reese Witherspoon and I were 
taking a tour of the White House. АП of 
a sudden we were taken into some room, 
and then a door opened and there was 
Obama. I'd never seen Reese get flus- 
tered, but when he asked her who else was 
in the movie, she was like, "Jack Nicholson 
and me and Owen...Owen...Owen...." 
And I shouted, “Wilson!” Like it was a 
party game or something. She forgot his 
name for a second. And then he made a 
joke to me, which I completely missed. 
PLAYBOY: What was the joke? 

RUDD: He asked about my character in 
How Do You Know, and I told him Pm a 
guy who gets into some hot water, and 
though his intentions are good he gets 
indicted by the government for possi- 
ble violations. And Obama says, “Oh, so 
you're playing a congressman." And I was 
like, “Хо, actually I work for my dad in 
this corporation." I'm trying to explain, 
and Obama interrupts me and says, "It 
was a joke." I just felt so stupid. Of course 
it was a joke, and it's actually a pretty good 
one. I'm normally pretty good at catching 
them. If you're not the fucking president 
of the United States, I can usually identify 
when you're joking. 

PLAYBOY: You didn't set out to be a comic 
actor. Wasn't your original goal to be a 
Shakespearean actor? 

RUDD: That was the plan. Maybe not 
exclusively Shakespeare, but definitely 
serious theater. I was pretty focused. One 
of my first acting roles in college was in an 
experimental version of Macbeth. 
PLAYBOY: Experimental how? 

RUDD: There were two Macbeths. Some 
other guy played the bad Macbeth and I 
played the good Macbeth. [laughs] 
PLAYBOY: That seems unnecessarily 
confusing. 

RUDD: Oh, confusing was the least of it. It 
was incredibly stupid and pretentious and 
awful, and I loved it. The director was 
one of those guys who didn't wear shoes, 
and he wanted to do something fascinat- 
ing and explosive. At the time, it seemed 
so cool to me. I was 18, maybe 19, that 
age when everything seems incredible. 
^Holy shit, you're telling me you can set 
Hamlet in Vietnam?" It's that moment in 
your life when you realize the world is so 
much bigger than you imagined. 
PLAYBOY: Was it around this time that you 
started working as a DJ? 

RUDD: Yeah, I think so. I did it only occa- 
sionally, at this 1950s-themed bar in Kansas 
City. I had long hair like Michael Hutch- 
ence, the guy from INXS, and I refused 
to cut it. So my bosses made me wear an 
Elvis pompadour wig every time I worked. 
It was jet-black and cheap, and over time 


it got frizzy and didn't look like a pompa- 
dour at all. When I moved to Los Angeles, 
one of the guys who also deejayed at the 
Kansas City bar was working for a com- 
pany called You Should Be Dancing, and 
he got me a job. I spent my weekends 
doing bar mitzvahs and keeping 16-year- 
olds psyched about MC Hammer. 
PLAYBOY: You became famous on the bar 
mitzvah circuit for something called the 
Donnie the Dweeb dance. 

RUDD: Oh Jesus. That happened after an 
oppressively long day. I had two bar mitz- 
vahs in one day, the first in Santa Barbara 
and the other in Thousand Oaks. With 
all the traveling involved, it was like an 
18-hour day. Somewhere around the mid- 
dle of the second bar mitzvah, I was on the 
dance floor with these kids, and I guess I 
just cracked. I couldn't take it anymore. 
I got so slaphappy that I started danc- 
ing spastically, kind of mocking the whole 
thing just to entertain myself. But the kids 
thought it was funny, and the following 
week I was at another bar mitzvah and 
some kids came up to me and said, “Hey, 
you're the guy who does the dork dance." 
And I was like, ^I don't know what you're 


I had the great fortune 
of puberty hitting me like 
a Mack truck, where over- 

night my hair curled up 
like Hall and. Oates's and 

my skin went bananas. 


talking about." And they said, “Last week 
at so-and-so's bar mitzvah, you did this 
dance." They went to my boss and begged 
him to make me do it. And my boss was 
like, “Look, man, you have to do it." So I 
went out there and he got on the micro- 
phone and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, 
please welcome Donnie the Dweeb!” He 
gave me a name. 

PLAYBOY: What exactly happened during 
this dance? 

RUDD: I don't know how to describe it 
without offending many groups of peo- 
ple. It was a combination of...let's just 
say some mental disabilities and physical 
ailments. The full front of negative ste- 
reotypes. With socks pulled up. It's pretty 
much a metaphor for how I felt about the 
zit in high school. I was putting on a show 
for everyone while inside I felt like Coco 
in Fame, taking my shirt off and showing 
my breasts for a director. That's how I 
felt about it. It became kind of a recur- 
ring theme for me. 

BOY: Why did you give up being a 
аһ DJ? rl it ni en M whent 


WnotldMags 


had some friends coming to town, aU 
we were going out to the Magic Castle. 
I told my boss a month in advance, “І 
need Saturday night off." But then the 
weekend came, and I ended up getting 
requested for this girl's party. She really 
wanted Donnie the Dweeb. So my boss 
said to me, "Can you just stop by and do 
the dance? ГЇЇ give you $25 and you can 
get out of there." 

PLAYBOY: Did you do it? 

RUDD: I did. And I brought along my 
friends. One of them was Joe Buck, 
who went on to become a play-by-play 
announcer for Fox Sports. And the other 
was Jon Hamm. 

PLAYBOY: From Mad Men? 

RUDD: Yeah, both these guys I've known 
since I was a teenager. They came into 
town, and I said, "Before we go to the 
Magic Castle, we need to swing by this 
party. I just have to do this one quick 
thing." So we went, and they had no idea 
what I was doing. They knew I was a DJ 
for parties, but they had no clue how bad 
it had gotten. My boss saw my friends, and 
he said, ^I'll introduce Paul, and you guys 
can come іп as his henchmen”—I guess 
because they were wearing suits. 
PLAYBOY: Wait, hold on. You, Jon Hamm 
and Joe Buck were all in suits? 

RUDD: We had to be, because there's a 
dress code at the Magic Castle. So Jon and 
Joe came out and they were standing to 
the side, and I pulled the bat mitzvah girl 
from the audience and put her in a chair 
in the center of an empty dance floor. And 
in front of hundreds of guests and family 
members, I essentially gave this teenage 
girl a retarded lap dance. 
PLAYBOY: Wow. 'That sounds 
RUDD: Disturbing? 

PLAYBOY: That's one word to describe it. 
RUDD: It's the only word! But at this point, 
I'd become numb to it. After it was all 
over I walked over to my friends and said, 
"Okay, guys, let's go." Very casual. We 
went out to the lobby and—T'll never for- 
get this—Joe Buck looked at me with the 
most confused expression on his face. He 
said with utter earnestness and sincerity, 
"What the fuck just happened in there?" 
And at that moment, the reality of what 
I'd been doing with my life came crash- 
ing down. I answered him the only way 
I could. I said, “I honestly don't know." 
Тһе next day I gave my notice. I quit. I 
never deejayed again. 

PLAYBOY: Even without the DJ job you 
weren't particularly happy in Los Angeles. 
RUDD: Í wasn't. 

PLAYBOY: You once claimed you had a melt- 
down in the mid-1990s. What happened? 
RUDD: It was a series of things coming 
down on me all at once. I got a job on this 
ТУ show called Wild Oats, and it made me 
skittish. I kept asking myself, "What if it's 
a hit? I'll have to keep doing it for seven 
years." The audition was fun, because we 
got to improvise and goof around, and it 
felt as though it could be okay. But I got 
cold feet. My hand was literally shaking 


as I signed the contract. Even though I 
needed the money and I was lucky to be 
a working actor, I was 24 and precious. 
This is where acting and youth really 
screw with you. I wanted to do theater. I 
wanted to do cool indie movies. 
PLAYBOY: It got so frustrating that you 
painted obscenities on the walls of your 
apartment. 

RUDD: Yeah, but that was just a product 
of age. It seems so romantic to paint on 
your walls and feel like a tortured artist 
when really you're just a whiner. I'd write 
things like “Fuck this, fuck that." I wrote 
about all the things that were getting 
to me. This was around the time of the 
Northridge earthquake, in 1994, I think, 
which was traumatic for me. It happened 
in the middle of the night, and it spooked 
me so much that for the next few months 
I was constantly feeling earthquakes. I'd 
be in the middle of a conversation with 
somebody and Га say, "Did you feel that?" 
And they would say, “No. What are you 
talking about?" It was a weird thing. I 
just didn't feel sure-footed anymore. A 
bunch of traumas happened to me in a 
short time. A friend of mine was killed 
in an awful car accident, and then I got 
mugged. It was right around the time we 
were shooting Clueless. I was in the park- 
ing lot of Jerry's Deli, and the guy was 
like, “You don't think it's a real gun?" He 
shot it at me, and I could feel the breeze 
from the bullet next to my head. 
PLAYBOY: Did it seem Los Angeles was tell- 
ing you to get out? 

RUDD: Wait, it gets better. I got into five 
car accidents in just one week. 

PLAYBOY: Five car accidents? How is that 
possible? 

RUDD: Two of them happened when my 
car was parked. I wasn't even driving at 
the time. It really did seem like a weird 
cosmic message from the universe. I'm not 
somebody who lives my life based on cos- 
mic anything, but it did feel like, “Oh yeah, 
I get it. Message received, universe." 
PLAYBOY: Why move to New York? 

RUDD: Because in New York you don't 
need a car. [laughs] 

PLAYBOY: That can't be the only reason. 
RUDD: I lived there as a kid. I was born 
just across the bridge, so it was familiar 
to me. I've always felt safer in New York 
than in Los Angeles, as weird as that 
sounds. I don't want to be surrounded by 
the industry all the time, and that's what 
you get in Los Angeles. Not long after 
I moved to New York I was cast in this 
play called The Last Night of Ballyhoo, and 
I remember walking to rehearsal, hold- 
ing my script and some coffee, and I just 
felt so...sane. 

PLAYBOY: You have a son, Jack, who is six, 
and a daughter, who's one and a half. 
Have they seen your movies? 

RUDD: Oh God no. Not yet. But honestly, 
they're just not curious. Jack doesn't have 
any interest. I think because of home videos 
and YouTube, it just doesn't seem that spe- 
cial. He hasn't figured out the distinction 


between seeing himself in a video and what 
I do. He's starting to now. Before, if some- 
body approached me on the street, it was 
confusing to him. He'd say, "Do you know 
that person?" And Id tell him no, and he'd 
say, "Well, how do they know your name?" 
Now he gets it. He's like, ^Oh, they know 
you from the movies." 

PLAYBOY: Your movies are not exactly fam- 
ily friendly. There's lots of cursing and 
sexual scenarios. When your kids are old 
enough to watch what their dad does for 
a living, will you be tolerant when they 
start swearing? 

RUDD: I don't know. I definitely make 
an effort not to use profanity when I’m 
around them, but sometimes I do. And 
when it happens, I just tell them not to do 
it. I think my job as a parent is to confuse 
my kids as much as possible. [laughs] It's 
hard, though. When Jack swears, I laugh 
every time. And I know it's the wrong 
reaction to have. 

PLAYBOY: It's certainly not going to dis- 
courage him. 

RUDD: I know, I know. It blurs the line 
between father and son. I've had many 
moments when I'm laughing with him 
at the most puerile stuff. Yesterday I was 
picking him up and then throwing him 
onto his bed, and he kept kicking me in 
the nuts. One time he hit me so hard that 
I said, "Dude, you just totally nailed me in 
the penis. Right on the tip." He laughed 
and was like, “In the triangle?" I started 
laughing and said, “Yeah, that’s it." And 
then he was like, "Right in the roof of the 
house?" I just died. 

PLAYBOY: So your son's become a guy 
friend? 

RUDD: That's it exactly! He's a dude I 
want to hang out with. There's no par- 
enting book I can refer to when my kid 
just starts making hilarious jokes about 
the tip of a dick being like the roof of a 
house. All I can do is laugh and give him 
a high five and say, "Nice one." My son's 
always been bizarre and funny. For a year 
he was obsessed with sprinkler heads. 
And between the ages of three and five 
he would dress only in a suit. He wouldn't 
leave the house without wearing a coat 
and tie and dress pants. I remember 
thinking, This is my dream kid. 
PLAYBOY: How did Jack come to have an 
Irish pub named after him? 

RUDD: [Laughs] He actually has two. The 
first one was built by his grandfather. 
Around the time Jack was born, my par- 
ents moved into a new house in suburban 
Kansas City. And my father was a very 
handy man. He could build homes. He 
could do anything. He had this unfin- 
ished basement, and he said, "I'm going 
to build an Irish pub down there, and I'm 
going to call it Sullivan's." Which is Jack's 
middle name. 

PLAYBOY: Is that a family name? 

RUDD: рога at all. Nobody іп my family is 


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these rules about it. It was going to have 
Guinness and good beers and no Coors 
Light. There would be single malts and 
high-end whiskeys and nothing with an 
umbrella in it. On the shelf behind the 
bar he’d have Jameson and Glenlivet and 
[the baby formula] Similac. He always 
said, “Jack is the proprietor. He’s the 
owner.” The only thing he asked of me 
was a picture of Jack that he could have 
sepia toned and made to look like an old 
photograph to put above the bar. 
PLAYBOY: Did you help him build it? 
RUDD: No, it was a complete secret. He 
never sent me pictures, never gave me 
updates. I just knew he was working on 
it, putting in plumbing and electricity and 
everything. And after a year he said, “It’s 
done. Come back to Kansas and bring 
Jack. I want you to see it.” 

PLAYBOY: Was it as amazing as you 
imagined? 

RUDD: It was better. My dad was really 
good at building stuff, but this was his 
masterpiece. I went down to the base- 
ment and...I don’t even know how to 
describe it. It’s like there was an old Irish 
pub already there that somebody had 
built a home on top of. He had Guin- 
ness on draft and incredible historical 
paraphernalia on the walls. My dad was 
a history fanatic and collected all sorts of 
weird things. There was a framed invita- 
tion to FAO Schwarz to attend the grand 
opening of the Brooklyn Bridge. An old 
New York City police uniform from the 
late 1800s. A 1936 Olympics document 
signed by Hitler. Being Jews, we’re all 
obsessed with Hitler. No Irish pub is 
complete without some Nazi parapher- 
nalia on the walls. 

PLAYBOY: When did the second pub 
happen? 

RUDD: Well, I told my dad that if I ever 
bought a house, now that I’d seen what 
he’d done, Га need to have a pub in it. So 
when Julie and I decided to buy a place 
in upstate New York, the first thing I 
looked for was whether it had a basement 
with enough room to build a pub. We 
found one in Rhinebeck, and right away 
I started working on my own basement 
pub. My father was going to come out 
and we were going to do it together, but 
then he was diagnosed with cancer. Over 
the course of a year I hired somebody 
and built another version of Sullivan’s, 
which I called Sullivan’s East. 

PLAYBOY: How does it compare with the 
original? 

RUDD: І must say, I improved on it. It’s a 
little bigger, and I learned a lot of things 
from my father. He told me, “If I had it 
to do over again, I'd make sure to do this 
and this." The only thing I feel was a lost 
opportunity was that I didn't put in a uri- 
nal. But it's still got some great things I’m 
really proud of. There are markers in the 
bathroom so people can write horrible 
П over the walls. 


AVorldMags 


RUDD: [Pauses] He dian’t, no. (pauses) Ps 
funny, the original Sullivan’s was a trib- 
ute to my son, and Sullivan’s East has 
become a shrine to my father. My sister 
had a son, and his full name is Henry Sul- 
livan Arnold. She gave him the middle 
name Sullivan so he could be co-owner 
of the pub. [/aughs] She and her husband 
didn’t want Henry to grow up not feeling 
a part of the family business. 

PLAYBOY: Have your friends and co-workers 
seen the pub? 

RUDD: Oh yeah, everybody I’ve worked 
with has been there. There have been a 
few live fantasy football drafts, a few poker 
weekends, a few karaoke parties. 
PLAYBOY: Karaoke is especially popular 
among comics, isn’t it? 

RUDD: Wildly popular. [Wanderlust direc- 
tor] David Wain is a big fan of karaoke. 
As are Joe Truglio, Ken Marino, all those 
guys from Wet Hot American Summer. 
PLAYBOY: Why is that? Is it like AOL e-mail 
addresses—it’s so uncool that it’s cool? 
RUDD: [Laughs] That may be part of it. 
When comics get together to do karaoke, 
it’s not like anybody is trying to be funny. 
At the same time, nobody is taking it too 
seriously. It’s hard to explain. 

PLAYBOY: Do you have a favorite kara- 
oke song? 

RUDD: Not at all. That’s a rookie move. I 
had a karaoke song 10 years ago. Now I 
like to do ones I’ve never done before. 
PLAYBOY: So what do you look for in a 
karaoke song? Does it need to be in 
your vocal range or something more 
challenging? 

RUDD: A lot of these decisions are made 
based on who I’m ’raoking with. And 
please spell 7aoking correctly: without the 
k anda and with an apostrophe. Everyone 
I know refers to it as ’raoking. And yes, I 
do realize how pathetic that sounds. 
PLAYBOY: Don’t apologize. 

RUDD: Oh, I’m not. Not at all. That’s just 
the way it is. If I'm in Los Angeles for a 
day or two, I'll call Joe Trigly, and we'll 
go 'raoking. That's just my social scene 
now. А few weeks ago I was out in L.A., 
and Joe and his girlfriend, Beth, and I 
got a private room. Joe and I like to give 
each other some surprises. You've got to 
go deep in the book and find something 
the other person hasn't heard. 

PLAYBOY: Like what? 

RUDD: The last time I went 'raoking, Joe 
did "The Worst That Could Happen" 
by Johnny Maestro and the Brooklyn 
Bridge. It's an impossible song to sing, 
but it's incredible. It's kind of uninten- 
tionally sexist, but it's just incredible. 
When you find a song like that, it's like 
hitting oil. The first question we always 
ask before going to a new ’raoking place is 
"How's the book?" We don't want a stan- 
dard book. [laughs] You want to talk about 
socially awkward? Come to a 'raoking ses- 
sion with a bunch of comics. That's where 
you're going to see the magic happen. 


SMOOTH BOURBON. D RIGHI n TEN 
ES ў Drink кесу "5 ! IW RA 4 $ чуу : 2 г SADT а Ей! | Е 


Think Қысу” 


3 4% ;WorldMags 


KARL TARO GREENFELD 


WHEN THINGS ARE GOING WELL, YOU'VE GOT ENOUGH MONEY TO : 4 
BUY ANYTHING—A RANCH, A PLANE, АМ UNDERGROUND LAB. | 


WEIRD SEX, BIKERS AND, IF YOUR BIG BROTHER IS 
TOM ARNOLD, YOU GET TO HANG WITH CELEBRITIES. BUT 
THERE'S ALSO THE RAID BY THE COPS, THE TWO STINTS IN 
PRISON AND REENTERING THE REAL WORLD WITH NOTHING. 


net 


ILLUSTRATION BY DAVE MCKEAN 
| 


62 


SCENES FROM А METH DEALER'S LIFE (CLOCKWISE FROM ТОР LEFT): Young Lori with her mother in 1975, days before her teenage wedding. Lori and her second 
husband, Floyd, take their son, Josh, on his first Harley ride in 1981. Lori in 1989 at her ranch, chopping up a few lines of meth. Her big 
brother, comedian Tom Arnold, visits Lori in prison. Gun-toting Floyd in 1984. Floyd and his fellow bikers in the early 1970s 


drinking coffee at a round kitchen 
table, staring out the window at morning 
sunlight, unfinished yard, empty pool. 
My husband, John Woten, and I are 
working on getting the yard planted and 
filling that pool. I try to convince myself 
that's the fun part of my new life, the 
exciting part, working on the yard, the 
pool. I gather my keys, step out into the 
morning heat already in the 90s, walk 
over the dead brown grass, slide into 
my six-year-old Ford Taurus bought off 
Craigslist and drive to work. 

I sit in a cubicle, one of a dozen. I 
have photos tacked on the partition 
board: my son, Josh Stockdall; my hus- 
band, John; my brother Chris Arnold; 
and my older brother, the comedian and 
actor Tom Arnold. I drink my coffee and 
make my telemarketing calls. "This is 
Lori with Image Incentives," I tell who- 
ever answers. "Your name came to my 
attention as someone who inquired 
about working from home. Is that some- 
thing you're still interested in?" 

They either say "That depends" or 
“Мо,” or they hang up on me. I make 
300 calls a day. I make $10 an hour 
plus commissions. 

I used to make $800,000 a month 
selling crystal meth. I've read that I 
am responsible for the meth epidemic 
in the American Midwest, that I'm the 
crankster gangster who introduced the 
drug to a whole swath of white trash 
America. One writer said I created "the 
very concept of industrialized meth in 
places like rural Iowa." 

I don't know about that. 

But I tell myself, always, I'm not 
going back; I'm not going back. But 


damn if I don't think about it, that life, 
the fun I had, the freedom I felt and 
the feeling, during those years when 
we were really rolling, when the money 
and drugs were flowing, when we 
owned the cars and racehorses and air- 
planes, when even the legit businesses 
that I set up to launder the money were 
all making money, that goddamn it, life 
was just meant to be like that: fun all 
the time. But now? 

I don’t have a lot of options, with my 
criminal record. Who wants to hire a 
51-year-old felon? 

“Hi, this is Lori with Image 
Incentives....” 


“Drug dealer” isn’t something a 10-year- 
old girl answers when the teacher asks 
the class what they want to be when 
they grow up. It’s not even something 
a 20-year-old girl admits to herself when 
that’s what she is. It’s something you 
become gradually. But I know this: 
For me, it started because I liked to get 
high, and I was getting high from the 
age of 13. My big brother, Tom, a year 
older than me, used to drink Budweiser 
and Mad Dog 20/20, but he was a jock 
and wasn’t into the drugs like I was. 
This was in Ottumwa, Iowa in the mid- 
1970s. Everyone was smoking grass and 
drinking, and kids were even doing it 
with their parents. Everybody wanted 
to get loaded. The town seemed to have 
been in economic decline since before 
I was born. Ottumwa straddles the Des 
Moines River, and in good times barges 
filled with coal had been toted up that 


PROT 


Des Moines. id dMa the !gs 


were a couple of foundries outside town 
and a meatpacking plant in town. The 
highest-paying jobs back then were $10 
an hour. Nobody was rich. Everybody 
was white. Our idea of international cui- 
sine was Taco Bell. 


I was physically mature—all breasts and 
hips—when I was 13. We were living іп 
a four-bedroom ranch-style house on 
Elm Street in northern Ottumwa. My 
mom had left home—she wound up 
marrying six times—and my dad, Jack 
Arnold, had taken up with the lady 
next door, Ruth. She had two kids, and 
we all ended up moving in together. 
It was cramped, but once I got over 
resenting Ruth for taking my mom's 
place, it was fun. But I was already 
staying out late and raising hell, and 
it wouldn't have mattered if we'd had a 
dozen bedrooms and 40 acres, because 
I wasn't staying home. I was wearing 
big bell-bottom flared Levi's with glit- 
ter on them and a low-cut Dr. Hook 
T-shirt to show off my cleavage. In one 
summer I went from being a straight- 
A student in sixth grade to screwing 
23-year-old Bobby Roberts in the back 
of his GTO, blue with white interior. 
Bobby was a good-looking guy with 
brown hair, green eyes and a mustache. 
He was stocky and prone to fight—the 
first in a series of men I loved who had 
a violent streak. 


'The first time me and Bobby did it, when 
I pulled my pants up before he drove 
me home, his tube sock got caught up 
іп the back of (continued on page 134) 


“4 clear 46 WotldMáds memory." 


WorldMags 


63 


64 


Veronica Berlusconi: mio marito mi deve pubbliche scuse 


M NAP G - 


TEXT BY 


MARTIN DEESON а 


WHEN YOURE THE SECRET MISTRESS OF ITALIAN PRIME MINISTER SILVIO BERLUSCONI, LIFE IS A GAME OF SEX, JEALOUSY AND POWER 


(221 la Repubblica | 


ШІП! 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY 
TONY KELLY 


here's something about Italian 


women. Even the policewomen 
are drop-dead sexy. At their best, 
Italian women ooze glamour 
and class. And Evelina Manna 
is Italian womanhood at its most 


seductive and also its most dan- 
gerous. She has the kind of curves 
a saint or even a head of state 
could fall for—and that's exactly 
what happened. For four years she 
vas Italian prime minister Silvio 


Berlusconi's mistress, and it was 
by all accounts a fiery affair. 
“When things are real between 
a man and a woman, then they are 
strong, yes?" she says while sit- 
ting in the restaurant at her Rome 


ABOVE: ITALIAN PRIME MINISTER SILVIO ВЕРЕ ЕО SE HL PROWESS AS BE ТОМ $ IH 5S ТОРЕ OF LEGEND IN THE EUROPEAN PRESS. 


4 WorldMags 


potior now 
WorldMags ia 


7 


hotel, which overlooks 
the Vatican. “There will 
be much shouting." And 
much of everything else. 

It was back in 2005 that 
Evelina met Berlusconi, 
the bad boy of Italian 
politics, the 118th richest 
man in the world (with 
a personal fortune esti- 
mated at $7.8 billion), the 
prime minister of Italy 
three times in the past 
17 years. He has become 
known the world over as 
the man who held notori- 
ous "bunga bunga" parties 
at his villas, where up to 
20 girls would cavort— 
often in the nude, pole 
dancing and more—for 
the 75-year-old and his 
cronies. For a politician, 
Berlusconi's gaffes are 
colossal: congratulating 
President Obama on his 
"suntan" and telling a 
group of Wall Street trad- 
ers that of all the reasons 
to invest in Italy, the most 
important is that “we һауе 
the most beautiful secre- 
taries in the world." 

Berlusconi's sexual liai- 
sons have become the stuff 
of legend. His wife (at the 
time) has even called him 
"sick" in the press. He 
is also a deeply embat- 
tled figure, currently 
facing three court cases 
for bribery, corruption 
and allegedly paying an 
underage Moroccan belly 
dancer known as Ruby the 
Heart Stealer for sex. 

It's no surprise when 
you meet Evelina Manna— 
model, film actress and 
now film producer—why 
she caught the prime min- 
ister's eye. And why for a 
couple of years before the 
bunga bungas started she 
was his full-time mistress. 

"Six years ago I was 
promoting Alexander a 
film in which I had a 
part," she recalls, “апа I 
did an interview in an Ital- 
ian magazine. They had 
taken beautiful pictures 
of me, very intellectual, 
black and white. Naked, 
yes, but artistic. In the 
interview they asked me 
who was my ideal man. I 
said, ‘Someone with the 
intelligence of JFK Jr., the 
(text concluded on page 124) 


WorldMags 


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Wines 
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ITIS HAAD TO FIND A 
MAN WHO CAN FOLLOW THE 
PRIME MINISTER OF ITALY 

INTO MY BEDROOM.” 


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is asking. 
How a person die, he 
is asking. 
What it mean—ill, 
die—he is asking. 

Enrolled in Intro Biology to 

seek why. 
æ 

His name is unpronounceable— 
Quogh. He is five feet one inch 
tall. Не can't weigh more than 
100 pounds. He is not a scrappy 
featherweight with swift lethal 
child-fists like rock, he is a slight 
bald boy with a curved back. His 
face is a patina of scars and blem- 
ishes and his minnow-eyes are shy 
behind his black plastic glasses that 
fit his narrow head wrongly. Smil- 
ing eager in Intro Biology to show 
how serious he is, saying, How is 
a person die, how that happen. Is 
like an animal maybe but why. 

He thinks of this all the time 
he says. Like wake or sleep or in- 
between. Some-kind voice saying 
to him How you did this thing, how 
this happen, you! 

And she your old sister she be 
good to you. 

ові > 


SAN QUENTIN: where you never | 


meant to do what you don't 
remember you were accused of 
doing so long ago it almost doesn't 
matter where you were when it 
was claimed you'd done what you 
were accused of doing which of 
course—you swear—you hadn't 
done, or not in exactly that way, 
and not at that time. 
ое 
"Prisoners use the outdoor 


BY JOYCE CARO OATES 


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ow you kill a person, he T urinals, against the facility walls. 


STILL BE INNOCENT? 


Do not look in their direction." 
æ 

They wear long-sleeved white 
T-shirts beneath short-sleeved 
blue shirts with PRISONER in 
white letters on the back. They 
wear blue sweatpants and at the 
waist in white letters C DC R and оп 
the left pant leg in vertical white 


letters 
Q 


er 


and all of their clothing loose- 
fitting as pajamas. 


There is something in his mouth 
that causes his words to emerge 
contorted and bright with spittle. 
There is something in his throat 
that stammers like a small frog 
in spasm. The minnow-eyes 
glimmer and dart. He is a dili- 
gent student, he will read slowly 
and in silence pushing his stubby 
forefinger along lines of print. He 
will hunch his shoulders close to 
photocopied pages from LIFE: 
THE SCIENCE OF BIOLOGY which is a 
massive textbook too dangerous 
to bring into the facility. 

There comes а squint into the 
ruined boy's-face. There comes a 
look of intense fear but determi- 
nation. With a plastic spoon he 


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"dissects" a sheep brain in the biology lab. Under 
the instructor's guidance, he and eight other inmate- 
students. Тһе "dissection" is clumsy. The sheep brain 
resembles chewy leather. His lab partner has a dark 
face like erosion and dreadlock hair to his shoulders. 
| He is explaining he is not sure he had ever seen a live 
| sheep—maybe pictures, when he be boy in school in 
| San Jose. He is saying why does a live thing stop being 
live—what makes a live thing be dead. One minute 
and then the other—and be dead. 

He wonders if the live thing be like fire that it be 
blown out and gone or if the live thing be like Holiness 
that it not be killed but taken up to Heaven. 

He has question is easier for a thing to live than to 
die—like weed? Like cockroach? 


Тһеге аге 10 inmate-students registered in Intro 
Biology but always each week one will fail to come to 
class. Yet never Quogh—he is the most eager student. 

Never can you really understand what Quogh is 
saying. Yet you nod, smile and nod for you are weak 
in such ways. 

You have learned Quogh has enrolled in Intro Biol- 
ogy before. Several times it may have been. For he is 
not so young as he appears, for he appears scarcely 
more than 16. So small, and his back curved so you 
feel sorry for him but also exasperation and impa- 
tience for he speaks slowly and with difficulty and 
with a look of wonderment—How is possible, a thing 
die? What is it mean, take a thing life from it —how? 

He is a "lifer"—60 years to life. 

Each class is three hours. Three hours! 

In San Quentin, time passes slow as backed- 
up drains. 

In San Quentin, murderers dressed like a 
softball team. 

San Quen-tin, voluptuous sound! 

San Quen-tin, a hard caress. 

Each class he is grimmer, broke-back like an upright 
snake and staring with minnow-eyes at the instructor. 
Shy and clumsy unless he is resentful and furious with 
the plastic spoon, that cracks between his stubby fin- 
gers with a startling little crack! that draws the other 
inmate-students' eyes to him. 

Is a split plastic spoon now a weapon. You will 
wonder. 

Your heart cringes. Such wonderment, you keep 
out of your eyes. 

Wants badly to know, it is all the God damn fuckin 
wish he has to know, how you can kill a person living, 
how does a person die. For does the person who die 
say to herself it is all right now to die, she is sick tired 
fed up and to die, or is it the other way—it is the one 


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HE WONDERS IF THE LIVE THING BE LIKE 

FIRE THAT IT BE BLOWN OUT AND GONE OR IF 

THE LIVE THING BE LIKE HOLINESS THAT IT 
NOT BE KILLED BUT TAKEN UP TO HEAVEN. 


who kill who is the cause. Tryin to figure this out, there 
is some answer to this to be known. 

Through the semester he stares at the lecturer, and 
at the blackboard where the lecturer scribbles words 
with colored chalk. At lab time the others in PRISONER 
clothing avoid little Quogh like you avoid a little 
mangy sick dog that might suddenly yip and bury 
ugly yellow teeth in your ankle. Wants so bad to fig- 
ure these facts but the weeks pass, the dry cold winter 
season is past and it is spring and the sun blinding just 
outside the Quonset-hut classroom where the prison- 
ers go singly to use the outdoor urinals glimpsed from 
behind the white horizontal bar P RIS 0 NE R across 
the back of the blue shirt for nowhere is PRISONER 
to be avoided, you have made of yourself a ridiculous 
sight, no one dares laugh. 

And now it is ending. And now, it is the last week. 
He has not passed Intro Biology—(again)—for he 
has not done most of the work and what work he 
has handed in is incomprehensible like a child's 
scribbling in pencil on sheets of torn and curiously 
soiled paper. Yet he is not angry with the instruc- 
tor, or does not give that impression. He is sad, he 
is anguished-seeming not angry, his blemished face 
contorted as if in the pain of actual thought saying 
he think about it all the time but don't know more 
than ever—what it 15. 

Still I am not given up. I have 60 year yet, t 
figure out. 


оі 

Why there be spiders there—these place I am put. 
They said, she is not a lit girl any longer & Mam say, 
she my lit girl. 

She also my lit girl til I am deadandgone. 

She be my old sister from before my daddy live 
with us. 

Тһеу said, It is best thing for she, & for you to bea 
part. You are sugar-blood-dibetees. You are fat. For 
she be fat lady, in the family-court place we be wait- 
ing by the chairs, & some boy say nasty-like, Yo that 
lady so fat—man she is fat. So they laugh. & one say, 
Oh—her. & they look at me where I am waiting. I am 
face like head, too big face. 

Like a faucet turned on—hot. & no one to turn it 
back. The thing that was in my hand, that came to 
hurt her, she too fat to take breath. I was shamed, my 
old sister so fat they laugh at us, and Mam like to say, 
they both my lit babies. 

Finly when it was over, they came for me—the light 
was bright & their voices loud & they say What did you 
do! What did you do! & it was never explained to me 
either, all those years ago. 


QOQOQOQQOQQOOOOOOQOOOOOOOQOQQQqQ 


(2 


“Т don't p a costume. I'm the invisible woman." 


7 WorldMags 


4 Mark 


QUICK 


militon 


nnette Herron 


LA q 


BEYOND THE PHOENIX 


a tale of sorcery ahd thrilling actif 
| By HENRY KUTTNER 


WLERK А5НТОМ SMITH 


THE HEART ОҒ SIVA 


"MAGAZINE Ë 


BIZARRE 


UNUSUAL 


November 


25¢ 


76 


WorldMags 


AOU COULD HAVE A PACK OF 7 £/^ WHO'VE BEEN DEAD FOR 3,000 YEARS, 


WITH LITHE, | CURVACEOUS FIGURES, RUBY-RED LIPS, AZURE HAIR 


5 277 УЭЛ curts AND eyes like snake-filled pits... 


ICOULD THROW IN SOME SACRIFICIAL VIRGINS AS WELL, WITH METAL BREASTPLATES AND SILVER ANKLE CHAINS 
AND DIAPHANOUS VESTMENTS. AND А PACK OF RAVENING WOLVES, EXTRA.... POPULAR ON THE COVERS— 
THEY'LL WRITHE ALL OVER A FELLOW, THEY HAVE TO BE BEATEN OFF WITH RIFLE BUTTS.” 


appear in my 2000 

novel, The Blind Assas- 
sin. They're spoken by Alex Thomas, who's 
a writer of pulp magazine fiction in the 
1930s. He’s not writing at this moment 
in the novel, however: He’s picking up a 
girl in a park. His initial method is story- 
telling, always a good thing to know some- 
thing about, whichever role you're play- 
ing. If you're the pickup artist, it's as well 
to be able to tell a good story or two, and 
if you're the target, you need to be able to 
determine if you've heard them before. 


THE SIX 
SLEEPERS 


a startling thrill-tale 
by EDMOND HAMILTO 


Seabury Quinn 
John Flanders 
Ariton Eadie 


Paul Ernst 


DOCTOR SATAN 


aida ghastly blow in 


“HOLLYWOOD HORROR” 


The fictional Alex Thomas got his beau- 
tiful vamps and their adornments straight 
off the covers of Weird Tales, definitely the 
sort of magazine he’d have wanted to 
publish in. In the 1930s and 1940s, Weird 
Tales published, well, weird tales: fantasy, 
horror and sci-fi of the bug-eyed mon- 
ster variety. Its covers were in lurid color, 
lovingly drawn in pastels by Margaret 
Brundage—the only female pulp cover 
artist of her era—who was fresh from a ca- 
reer as a fashion designer and illustrator. 

Brundage specialized іп vicious 

or threatened young 
-- women, sometimes to- 
tally nude but otherwise 
dressed in colorful and 
revealing outfits involving 
metal brassieres, translu- 
cent veils and ankle chains 
both decorative and func- 
tional, often accessorized 
with whips and shackles. 
Large fanged animals are 
a recurring motif: The 
Brundage women have 
equivocal relationships, 
not only with wolves but 
also with other charismat- 
ic carnivores. Sometimes 
the women appear fright- 
ened by their dangerous 
friends, but they may also 
stride forth, alpha females 
leading the pack. 

'The Brundage covers 
run from 1933 through 
the early 1940s, making 
them a perfect source 
for my invention Alex 


а tale of stark terror 


cnet 


Thomas, so it’s clear where Alex got his 
clichés. But—looking back at these clichés 
now—I wonder where I myself got them. 
I wasn’t born when Brundage was cre- 
ating most of her covers, yet her subject 
matter seems very familiar to me. When 
you're a child, you soak up images like a 
sponge. It doesn't matter to you where 
they come from. In those timeless years 
between infancy and, say, seven, what is 
has always been: In that way, children in- 
habit the realm of myth. 

In the 1940s, when I was a comic- 
generation kid, there were certain things 
we all knew. We took it as a given that chil- 
dren could make friends with wolf packs 
and might even be raised by them; these 
packs would rush to their aid in times of 
peril. I had my own imaginary pack of this 
kind and therefore was not alarmed by Al 
Capp’s Wolf Gal of the popular 1940s car- 
toon strip Lil Abner. Wolf Gal must have 
been the first Brundage-like carnivorous 
pinup I ever saw. She had white hair and 
fierce white eyebrows, she most likely ate 
men, she was scantily dressed, and like all 
the members of Capp's harem of eccen- 
tric glamour gals (stunners such as Stupe- 
fyin' Jones, Appassionata Von Climax and 
the mud-covered pig fancier Moonbeam 
McSwine) she was what was once called 
"bountifully endowed.” “Hubba hubba,” 
men said in those days: a term obscure in 
origin but most likely a variant of hiibsche, 
a German word for “beautiful.” 

Books and characters in books, pic- 
tures and elements of pictures—they 
all have families and ancestors, just like 
people. What generated Wolf Gal? Prob- 
ably Brundage’s wolf gals of Weird Tales, 
which—TI'd bet—Capp would have read, 
and drawn from. Was their grandparent 
Kipling's Jungle Book, in which the wolf- 
raised child is a boy? Did these clawed 
{ lovelies devolve from the high art of the 


orld Mags O 


femmes fatales paired with animals to 
show how animalistic they were under- 
neath? Ordoesthelinestretch way back, to 
folklore and tales of lycanthropy, or even 
further back, to times when animals were 
thought to assume human form at will? 

Тһе enduring popularity of werewolf 
stories must be based on something, and 
that something may be close to a wish. 
Was Brundage, unknown to herself, 
drawing early versions of that trope of 
female freedom, women who run with 
the wolves? Bram Stoker, the author of 
Dracula, was neither the first nor the last 
to supply seductive women with canine 
teeth somewhat larger than is generally 
desirable in a girlfriend. (It's to be noted 
that Wolf Gal has no Mr. Wolf Gal, and we 
strongly suspect that Wolf Gal—like some 
furry Turandot or a female spider—has 
been the death of all lovelorn aspirants to 
her hand, or paw.) 

'Then there are the women in the twin 
tinnies—those two shiny cups, attached 
to the torso with fine chain link—that 
abound in Brundage's oeuvre. Richard 
Wolinsky co-authored and edited a 
manuscript called The Girl in the Brass 
Brassiere: An. Oral History of Science Fiction 
1920-1950, a title that acknowledges the 
ubiquity of the trope in early 20th cen- 
tury sci-fi and fantasy, but like everything 
else pictorial, this item of clothing had its 
visual predecessors. 

'The message borne by the hard-but-soft 
frontage is mixed. One part of it derives 
from orientalism. Before moving to Weird 
Tales, Brundage drew covers for another 
pulp, Oriental Stories. In the exotic maid- 
ens she portrays, Brundage was lifting 
from a rich vein of 19th century Victorian 
orientalist painting, some of it purporting 
to depict such things as harems and slave- 
girl markets but some of it purely imagi- 
native, inspired by the hugely influential 
A Thousand and One Nights. This iteration 


Brundage could exploit and subvert images of 
female vulnerability, sometimes doing both on 
one cover, as this September 1935 issue shows. 


of the metal bra—nonfunctional, skimpy 
and bejeweled—invokes bondage and/or 
other depravities. Robert E. Howard of 
Conan the Barbarian fame—a frequent 
contributor to Weird Tàles—was quite 
keen on both slave girls and depravities, 
and used the Brundage dress code. In 
The Blind Assassin I based Alex 'Thomas's 
writhing women with eyes like snake- 
filled pits on simple-hearted Conan's en- 
counters with the uncanny seductresses 
of the corrupt, decaying cities through 
which he marauds. 

Brassiere advertisements from the 
1940s and 1950s hint at the second part 
of the twin-tinnie lineage: impermeability. 
Maidenform was just one of the brands 
featuring blindingly white bras with con- 
centric circles of stitching that suggested 
armor. Their ads that coupled a state of 
undress with publicactivities—"I dreamed 
I was a private eye in my Maidenform 
bra"; ^I dreamed I was a lady editor in my 
Maidenform bra"— presented the bra less 
as an aid to seduction than as a guarantee 
of security and, combined with the name, 
of chastity. Athena, the maiden goddess, 
with her shield and spear and her helmet, 
is perhaps a distant relative. 

A closer relative is the Valkyrie, a vir- 
gin demigoddess from Norse mythology 
whose job was to gather up dead warrior- 
heroes and cart them off to Odin's ban- 
quet hall. Richard Wagner brought the 
Valkyries to the opera stage in his Ring 
Cycle, but to a 1940s and 1950s audience 
they were more familiar as the parody 
conception of what a Wagnerian soprano 
should look like: large metal brassiere 
or corset, long braids, helmet complete 


Weird Tales 


with Viking-fantasy wings. Sure enough, 
there's Bugs Bunny in the 1957 cartoon 
"Whats Opera, Doc?," cross-dressing 
as the Valkyrie Brünhilde, with orange- 
winged helmet and two tiny brass cups 
stuck on his chest. 

Wonder Woman, the comic-book hero- 
ine who first appeared in 1941, doesn't 
have the full metal jacket, but she does 
have enough shiny stuff on her front to 
indicate her lineage. She too is related to 
the virgin goddesses—the chaste moon 
goddess Artemis, in her case. Supergirls 
of all kinds, good and bad, are generally 
unmarried: Wonder Soccer Mom, amaz- 
ing though she may be in real life, some- 
how doesn't quite fit the image. 

Тһе metal bra was capable of carrying 
two simultaneous undermeanings: vul- 
nerability, especially when it was flimsily 
attached to a girl with big scared eyes; or 
strength and staunch resistance, when the 
"breastplates," as they were called in the 
pulps, were more substantial and their 
wearer looked determined. Brundage 
sometimes tried for both at once: a girl 
in a brass brassiere and little else, with big 
scared eyes, tiptoeing forward with fear 
but determination, anklets quivering, to 
unlock some handsome fellow from a cage. 

Тһе “low art" of опе age often cribs 
from the "high art" of the preceding one, 
and "high art" just as frequently borrows 
from the most vulgar elements of its own 
times. The Lady Chatterley porno-trial wars 
were fought over whether or not several 
words you could see scribbled on a wash- 
room wall every day had the right to be 
written inside something that purported 
to be “literature.” The Weird Tales covers 
of the 1930s are just one example of the 
way cultural memes transmit themselves, 
taking their meaning in part from their 
context, and from our own knowledge 
of it. Thus, from Wagner’s ultraserious 
Valkyries to Brundage’s equivocal brass 
bras to Maidenform’s faux-naive under- 
garments to Bugs Bunnys skimpy 
travesties and finally to Madonna’s witty 
pop-show quotation of the entire tradi- 
tion. And from the wolf women of myth 
and folklore to Brundage’s wolf girls to Al 
Capp's gloss on them in his Lil Abner Wolf 
Gal to me as child reader and finally to my 
invention, Alex Thomas. 

Alex is using Weird Tales pulp schlock 
as foreplay. He knows it’s schlock, and 
the girl he’s seducing knows it as well, 
but that’s part of the attraction, for her as 
well as for him. ^I don't think I could fob 
those off on you," he says of the depraved 
women and the maidens in sexual peril 
he's conjuring up for her. “Lurid isn't 
your style." 

“You never know,” the girl replies. “I 
might like them." 

And so she does. 


Special thanks to the Toronto Public Library for 
assistance with the images. 


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WorldMags 


— 


THE SKY’S THE LIMIT FOR MISS OCTOBER 


ry topping Amanda Cerny’s uncondi- 
tional ardor for all life has to offer: Our 
Miss October earned a first-degree black 
belt in karate at the age of 11, pulled 
straight A’s while running varsity track 
in high school and then commemorated 
her 18th birthday by, as pictured above, 
free-falling at 120 mph. “It was crazy 
loud when I jumped out of the plane, 
but it got silent and beautiful after the 
rip cord was pulled. It feels as though 
you're floating. It was amazing. Then 
again, I'm kind of a thrill junkie—I 
want to bungee jump and white-water 
raft, too. Honestly, I want to do every- 
thing I can think of!" Amanda's lust 
for life has also helped determine her 
current career path; the 20-year-old is 
just a year shy of earning a degree in 
international affairs from Florida State 
University. ^I figured since I love to 
travel so much, why not learn about 


net 


n S it was awesome 
v 


international business?” she says. “My 
classes are really cool. For instance, last 
semester I took religious ethics, where 
I learned about the different religions 
and cultures throughout the world.” 
This past summer Amanda jetted her 
joie de vivre abroad to Spain, Germany 
and France. “I was dying to go because 
Га never been to Europe before. I love 
to explore and have a great time.” After 
all, the pursuit of good times is her life’s 
mission. “One of my favorite quotes is 
from Dr. Seuss,” she explains with an 
adorable bow-lipped smile. “It goes, 
“If you never did, you should. These 
things are fun, and fun is good.” She 
bursts into laughter. “Fun ¿s impor- 
tant! I don't want to be the person who 
says, "That would be a nice thing to do' 
and then never does it. I want to have 
a Ше where I can say, ‘I did that, and 


p» 


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PLAYBOY’S PARTY JOKES 


One morning a man woke up, discovered he 
had a red ring around the base of his penis and 
immediately headed to the nearest emergency 
room. At the hospital a nurse examined him 
and said, "Don't worry, I have just the thing 
for this." She left the room, came back with 
her purse and pulled out a package of tow- 
elettes. She then proceeded to use one of the 
towelettes to wipe away the red mark. 

“That was easy!" the man exclaimed. “What 
were you using?" 

"Makeup remover," the nurse replied. “You 
had lipstick on your dick." 


Have you heard about the blonde lesbian? 
She likes men. 


A lonely woman checked into a resort and 
decided to call one of the numbers she'd 
seen advertising male escort services and 
sensual massages. She flipped through the 
phone book, found an ad with a picture of a 
particularly strapping young man and called 
the number. 

“Hello?” a male voice answered. “How may 
I help you?" 

“I hear you give a great massage, and I'd 
really like to experience one," the woman 
said. ^Well, actually, I should just be straight 
with you. I'm in town, I'm all alone and what I 
really want is sex. I want it hard, I want it hot, 
and I want it now. Bring implements, toys, 
rubber, leather, whips—everything you've got 
in your bag of tricks. We'll go hot and heavy 
all night. Tie me up and cover me in choco- 
late syrup and whipped cream. I want to do 
it all. How does that sound?" 

“That sounds great," the man replied, “but 
you need to press nine for an outside line." 


During the first year of marriage, the man 
speaks and the woman listens. During the sec- 
ond year of marriage, the woman speaks and 
the man listens. And during the third year, 
the husband and wife both s e same 
time, and the neighbors liste 


One evening a man was playing poker at his 
friend's house when he dropped a card on the 
floor. When he bent down to pick it up, he 
looked across the table and noticed his friend's 
wife had her legs open and had no panties on. 
Embarrassed, the man went to the kitchen to 
get some water. To his surprise, his friend's 
wife followed him. 

"Did you like what you saw?" she asked. 

“Yes, actually, I did,” he replied. 

"Well, you can get some of that for $500," 
the woman said. 

Тһе man said he was interested, and his 
friend's wife told him to come back the next 
afternoon because her husband would be at 
work. The following day he went to his friend's 
house, had sex with his friend's wife, paid her 
and went home. Later that evening the man's 
friend arrived home from work and asked his 
wife if his friend had come by. 

“Why, yes, he did come over," she replied 
nervously. “Why do you ask?" 

“Oh, good," her husband said. “Не came by 
my job this morning and asked me if he could 
borrow $500 until this evening, and he said he 
would leave the money with you." 


A 


Dia you hear about the flasher who consid- 
ered retiring? He decided to stick it out for 
one more year. 


In a recent survey, 1,000 married men were 
asked why they enjoy blow jobs. Two per- 
cent said they like the warm, moist sensa- 
tion, three percent said it makes for the best 
foreplay and 95 percent said they simply like 
the peace and quiet. 


What are three words you never want to hear 
when you’re making love? 
“Honey, I’m home!” 


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 pays$100 to the contributors whose sub- 


g WorldMags 


727A ( ы 


“Т want to have it all, 


t of that isn't practical, Га settle for a threesome." 


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ЖА», ^ ^ # Л, Ж Dp е Nn УУ, 
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WE | h ( | | | | | D= FASHION BY JENNIFER RYAN JONES 
Т RAPHY BY DANNY CLINCH 


TEXT BY STEVE GARBARINO 
چ‎ | 一 一 一 BOARDWALK EMPIRE'S | [EL SHI | SHOWS 
— — OFF THE SHARPEST THREADS OF THE FALL SEASON 
Ше | 


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MICHAEL SHANNON OFF THE CUFF 


WorldMags 


In a memorable episode of 
HBO's Boardwalk Empire, boot- 
legging's worst nightmare, Nel- 
son Van Alden—played by the 
stage, television and Oscar- 
nominated film actor Michael 
Shannon—pans his gaze down 
to one of his government reve- 
nue agents’ feet, pans back up 
to the man’s eyes and murmurs 
with an accusatory smile, “I do 
notice you're wearing new wing- 
tips." Read: How could the guy 
afford such nice shoes on a 
fed's salary? 

"They were on discount,” says 
the fed. “I got 'em at Driscoll’s.” 
Shannon's character isn't buy- 
ing it, and soon after, he “acci- 
dentally” drowns the cowering 
peon in a baptism gone wrong. 

Tough town, Atlantic City. 

Style plays a critical part in 
the social fabric of the 
speakeasy-era Boardwalk 
Empire, says Shannon, 37. A red 
carnation in a pin-striped lapel 
can forecast bloodshed, and 
shoes can both make and 
“make” the man, divulging 
who's а mob boss and who's a 
bottom-feeder. 

For Shannon's Van Alden, it's 
all about the 1920s-style suits 
and hats, says the Lexington, 
Kentucky-born, Chicago- 
trained actor. "I have no credi- 
bility when I'm rehearsing my 


Suit, $1,092, and tie, $80, by 
HUGO BOSS. Shirt, $98, by 
J. PRESS. Pocket square, $70, 


by PAUL STUART. 


scenes in my street clothes," he 
says. "But once I'm in full cos- 
tume, and I pull the brim of my 
custom-designed slate-gray 
hat down— not quite a fedora, 
as its bill is wide enough to bea 
Pilgrim hat—then everyone 
goes, 'Oh yeah, that's Van 
Alden!' I pull it down over my 
eyes before every take. It's kind 
of a religious object, adding to 
the mystery of the character." 
The son of an attorney mother 
and an accounting-professor 
father, Shannon admits to hav- 
ing an oversize head (“Huge,” he 
says, "uncoverable"). He didn't 


human being," he jokes. "Of 
course, at the end of the day, it's 
who you are as a person that 
matters." Most of the time he's 
a khakis and T-shirt guy, and he 
has a "fetish" for a certain kind 
of sock: "These Muji reused- 
yarn socks that are like pieced- 
together scraps,” he says. “They 
have about 15 colors in them." 
Next up for Shannon: a turn 
as the villainous General Zod in 
the upcoming Superman adap- 
tation Man of Steel. In 1980's 
Superman II, Terence Stamp 
plays the character with a 
campy, androgynous look. But 


develop a according 
strong to Shannon, 
sense of y in Man of 
style until Steel Zod 
he started wears clas- 
attending sic military. 
red-carpet "He's not a 
events. supervil- 
Wearing lain," he 
designer says. "He's 
tuxedos and a general, 
suits—he fighting for 
favors Cal- the inter- 
vin Klein— ests of 
"gives you Krypton, 
that feeling Striped suit, $3,900, by DOMENICO which has 
of confi- VACCA. Shirt, $160, by fallen apart. 
dence, that THOMAS PINK. Tie, $125, Now he's 
maybe уои — py J. PRESS. Lapel pin, $109, by TYME Ue 
аге іп facta PAUL STUART. Watch, $1,650, reestablish 
worthwhile his city. The 


by FREDERIQUE CONSTANT. 


style was dictated purely by his 
military standing—nothing 
ostentatious." 

Like another mercurially 
great film and stage actor, 
Christopher Walken, Shannon 
says that when people approach 
him on the street they're "really 
nice and usually say, 'You're so 
good at being crazy. I really 
hate your character.' It's mostly 
backhanded compliments but 
all in good will." And as with 
Walken, you can't read Shan- 
non's cards, either on or off the 
screen. Although the 1920s 
flapper-era Boardwalk Empire 
has brought him national and 
critical attention, when he's 
asked what decade had the 
coolest style, the answer is not 
exactly what you'd think. 

"I have a particular romantic 
longing for late-1970s New 
York City," says Shannon. "I'm 
sure it would be different if I 
had lived in Manhattan then. 
The socioeconomic environ- 
ment was terrible. But when 
you see photos of the crowds at 
CBGB, there's an awe to it all, 
an appreciation of it that I have. 
Nobody had money, but every- 
one looked like they were hav- 
ing a blast." 

That's the ticket: Keep them 
guessing..and keep the big 
head in check. 


WorldMags 


с% ONG Striped suit, $1,584, and pocket 
ы SS square, $70, by PAUL STUART. 
= ы Shirt, $130, and tie, $105, by 
THOMAS PINK. 


FREDRIC JAMESON EULOGIZED HIM AS 
THE SHAKESPEARE OF SCIENCE FICTION, 
AND URSULA LE GUIN CHRISTENED HIM 
OUR "HOMEGROWN BORGES." HE IS THE 
AUTHOR OF MORE THAN 100 STORIES 
AND 44 NOVELS. THE FILM ADAPTA- 
TIONS OF HIS WORK, INCLUDING BLADE 
RUNNER, MINORITY REPORT AND THE 
ADJUSTMENT BUREAU, HAVE GENER- 
ATED CLOSE TO A BILLION DOLLARS AT 
THE BOX OFFICE. IN HIS LAST BOOK, 
A COLLECTION OF LETTERS, JOURNAL 
ENTRIES AND GRAPHS, HE PROVES HIM- 
SELF TO BE ALL THE THINGS HE'S BEEN 
CHARGED WITH—A SELF-DESCRIBED 
“FICTIONALIZING PHILOSOPHER,” A 


MADMAN AND A MYSTIC 


diede ЖЕЕ = ONS 


LLP Қ МСК 


ЖЕНЕ К ЕР Б МУЛ бө LETTER BY, AMERICAN 
novelist Philip К. Dick to literary critic Peter Fitting represents a single 
inkling, passing in the night, among many thousands. It is part of a vast 


compilation of accounts of his own visionary experi 
that Dick committed to paper between the year 
topics—apart from suffering, pity, the nature 


ces and insights 
гапа 1982. The 


е universe nd the 
| 


essence of tragedy—include three-eyed aliens; robots made of DNA; 
ancient and suppressed Christian cults that in their essential beliefs 
forecast the deep truths of Marxist theory; time travel; radios that 
continue playing after you unplug them from the wall; and how the 
true nature of the universe may be discerned, variously, in the writings 
of the &nc'ent ohilosopher Parmenides, in ^ (continued on page 128) 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY JARED RYDER 


WorldMags 


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ШШ 


HEART 


not telling you not to be monogamous. When 
monogamy works, it’s great. However, having 

more than one lover, or a girlfriend on the side, 

is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it can be a source 
of pride, confidence and hedonistic fulfillment—as long 


as you don’t brag about it. (We’re assuming your signifi- 
cant other is not French and you do not have the green 
light to fool around.) In fact, that’s the first rule. You 
should be prepared to take your secrets to the grave. If 
you're going to do it, keep your mouth slit, Also, no 


Í< 
PHOTOGRAPHY BY GUIDO ша ү 4 


100 


whining. If stepping out of your rela- 
tionship or marriage gives you the guilts 
or feeds your stress or makes you ques- 
tion your commitment to the biggest 
and best thing in your life (that would 
be your wife, family or girlfriend), quit 
right now. It's not for you. 

Keeping a mistress does not mean 
having an affair that leads to the end of 
your primary relationship. That's some- 
thing else; that's lame. Guys who justify 
that type of confusion and hurt are what 
we call the faithful adulterers. It's messy 
and childish. It's the no-man's-land 
between fidelity and having a second 
(or third) woman to love in your life. 

and why 
yow're doing it: 'Irust us on this one, 
because you're going to be asked—by the 
women who have seduced you and the 
women you're trying to seduce. It goes 
like this: You are perfectly happy with 
what you have. You just want more. You 
want a quick little staycation from your 
routine. You want sex, an occasional 
taste of strange. You want her perfect 
body, her lovely face, her attention, her 
intelligence. You have everything you 
need; that's why she was attracted to you 
in the first place. Your confidence, your 
charm, your money, your ability to man- 
age a stable relationship—they're what 
you have to offer. То blow that up would 
turn you into something else—and she 
wouldn't want that. You love your wife. 
Your wife is perfect. In fact, she'd love 
your wife too! They’d be fast friends. 
Half of you is your wife; if she weren't 
part of your life, you'd be half as appeal- 
ing. Your wife knows what kind of guy 
you are—not that she wants to hear the 
slightest whiff about an affair—and she's 
proud of it. A man (and most probably a 
woman) can love two different people at 
the same time, in entirely different con- 
texts. You do, in fact, love your mistress. 
You talk with her about things you don't 
talk about with anyone else. 

You've spent a huge portion of your 
adult life learning about and loving 
women. То think you're going to just 
stop flirting and seducing on a dime (or 
an altar) is too much to ask of a guy like 
you. Why? Because you're selfish, and 
you want more. 

K | Once you get that 
part straight, you can be as gracious and 
giving as you like; in fact, you must be. Be 
accessible. Be prepared to talk. Affairs are 
90 percent phone calls and 10 percent 
sex. So be patient, chat it up, and when 
it's time for sex, make it count. 

and let your mis- 
tress choose you: If you want to have the 
random fuck every six months with a one- 
night stand, you're playing a dangerous 
game—and running a high risk of get- 
ting caught, a high risk of bedding a crazy 
woman, a high risk of pissing someone off 
and offending the pussy goddess. There's 


also a high risk of picking up something you don't want to bring home and share. So 
who are we looking for? Someone you trust. Someone you can manage not to piss off so 
she won't want to go ballistic and ruin your world. The good news is that just about any 
good-looking woman who knows her way around the bedroom wants to be someone's 
mistress at least once in her life. It's a common fantasy, and you want to exploit it. That 
is, every woman except single women between the ages of 27 and 35. Those women 


are on a mission to 
get married and 
have kids. They're 
not going to waste 
time having fun. 
They're done with 
that. They want to 
start on the rest 
of their lives, God 
bless them. Don't 
get in the way of 
their goals. 

On the one 
hand, that leaves 
young women who 
want the novelty of 
being taken care of 
from time to time. 
Don't get posses- 
sive or ask too 
many questions 
about their where- 
abouts. On the 
flip side, women 
over the age of 
35 are past pre- 
tension. They've 
kept themselves 
looking good for 
a reason and are 
ready for some- 
one to appreciate 
their hard-won 
physique and 
Pilates-honed 
stamina for balling. 
Just don't let them 
get possessive. 

These are crass 
generalities, yet 
they're also true. 
But just because 
they're true and 
sound like they're 
coming from the 
mouth of a pig 
doesn't mean 
you can't believe 
them. You can 
believe them and 
be the person you 


INGS 


THE DM IS ESSENTIAL. It stands for "direct message” 
and is the equivalent of a Facebook message: Wall 
posts and tweets are public, but DMs are not. Any- 
thing you want only the intended recipient to see— 
like, say, indiscreet pictures sent to a lover—should 
be relegated to DMs instead of your timeline. 


DON’T TWEET WHAT YOU CAN TEXT. It’s a public 
website, and you wouldn't put your text messages 
online, would you? Twitter is for networking, not 
for your nightly back-and-forth with that Amazon in 
accounting. If you delete a tweet, it won't necessar- 
ily disappear from the internet. This is doubly so for 
pictures, which are hosted by third-party sites. 


GO PRIVATE, WITH RESERVATIONS. The best way 
to prevent prying eyes from reading unscrupu- 
lous tweets is to go private. This protects your 
140-character missives from anyone you don't want 
reading them. Be warned: Anyone with access to 
your timeline can take a screenshot. Nothing is pri- 
vate on the internet. 


TURN OFF PHONE NOTIFICATIONS (AND E-MAILS, 
TOO). If you use Twitter on your phone, by default 
the application will send you a text alert whenever 
yov're tweeted. Turn this option off to avoid embar- 
rassment. Similarly, you can never fully ensure the 
security of your e-mail account, and Twitter e-mails 
you every time you receive a message. Cover your 
bases and sleep with peace of mind. 


KEEP TABS ON YOURSELF. Search your name and 
Twitter handle to find out who's mentioning you 
on the service. It's not narcissistic, it's smart: Know 
what people are saying about you and you can put 
out fires before they get out of control. 


should be—someone who is not a pig, someone who would rather hang out with 
girls than play cards and drink beer with the boys. Most honest women won't 
argue with this. 

Also, we're not talking about how to get laid. We assume you know how to do 
that—if you have one strong relationship and are thinking about another, you 
shouldn't need tips. You're not pursuing anyone; you're content to let your next 

iend come and find you. You're not Casanova. You're not trying to fool anyone 
a you. ri d not about mental manipulation. If you want to wear down 


0 ri dita gs she shouldn't (continued on page 132) 


"It's no use, your highness. I’m too short for the six, and you’re 
too tall for the nine!" 


G WorldMags 


BY DAVID НОСНМАМ 
PHOTOGRAPHY BY MICHAEL MULLER 


TV'S OMNIPRESENT AND FOULMOUTHED CHEF GETS MAD ЕЕ 

ARTICHOKES, LAZY SOMMELIERS, DINERS WHO АВЕ a 

TO COMPLAIN, OVERWEIGHT COLLEAGUES, DRUG АРЕ ШАНА 
DUMB ENOUGH TO INVITE HIM TO A DINNER PARIE 


Ql 

PLAYBOY: Don't take this the wrong way, but are you really an 
asshole or do you just play one on TV? 

RAMSAY: Listen, I'm a passionate guy, and sometimes that gets 
misconstrued. When something's good in my opinion, there's 
praise. When something's shit, people get told. The pressure 
inside a professional kitchen is tremendous. It's not rocket science, 
but you have to fucking keep up. I'm not saying there's no clever 
editing going on. For a show like Hell's Kitchen we shoot 110 
hours to get 42 minutes. It's not all going to be happy-go-lucky 
chef Gordon coming on to demonstrate how to dress a salad. I'm 
the happiest chef in the world when things are going right. But 
when it's going tits up and my name's on the door or I'm stand- 
ing there conducting the kitchen on TV, there's no way on Earth 
I'm sending out crap, and contestants shouldn't either. 


Q2 
PLAYBOY: But is the best solution to call someone a "fucking 
donkey” for overcooking artichokes? 
RAMSAY: You're asking the wrong person, 175 an industry 


WorldMags 


2 
T? 
n 


language, and it's my language in the ki 
artichokes or burns a pizza, dol turn 
bitch? Of course not. But when Im 5 
MasterChef or Hell's Kitchen—and aq 
being offered, and you've got some jerk whc 
and wants to call himself an executive с! 
somewhere, you can bet I'm going to take the 


E 
PLAYBOY: Has anyone actually hit you? 
RAMSAY: There was a situation years back on an 


black belt in karate. I love boxing. I can look out for myself. D 
I want to fight? No. Let's finish cooking first. We'll fight after. 
Ireally come across that angry? 


Q4 | 
PLAYBOY: Sometimes. Don't you watch your shows? q 
RAMSAY: Never. I don't want to get (continued on page 126) 


WorldMags 


@ WorldMags 


WorldMags 


EIGHTY-FIVE YEARS AGO, 

THE SOVIETS TRIED TO CREATE 
THE PERFECT SOLDIER BY 
BREEDING APES WITH HUMANS. 
IS IT POSSIBLE THEY SUCCEEDED? 


THE ISLAND OF 
DOCTOR IVANOV 


BY ROB MAGNUSON SMITH 


ЖЗ 
е A " 
| 
ILLUSTRATION BY TIM O'BRIEN 


106 


| ШІ her office over- 
\ looking the Black 
i Æ Sea, within the 
АШ bullet-ridden 
We campus of the 
| 1 Sukhumi Primate 
JL. 1 Center, Dr. Anna 
—À Djokova waves 
me over to a chair. She's 
elderly and smells of soap. 
On her desk is a miniature 
Abkhazian flag. 
"Can you tell me what you're 
researching, Doctor?" 
"Bulimia, anorexia. I am 
interested in the monkeys' 
brains when they are made to 
have eating disorders. I look 
at the prefrontal lobe, the 


2 
5 
n" 
" 


In Sukhumi, the monkey was revered as a Soviet hero. 


on oil in the sea. Abkhazia is 
now a de facto state recognized 
only by Russia, Venezuela, 
Nicaragua and the Pacific 
island nation of Nauru. A top 
U.S. State Department ana- 
lyst told me the enclave has 
become a haven for the ille- 
gal weapons trade. “It should 
be safe enough," the analyst 
assured me, "if you're inter- 
ested only in monkeys." 

In April it was still snow- 
ing at Moscow's Domodedovo 
airport. My flight to Sochi 
held plenty of oil executives. 
Тһеу were young, tall and 
extremely rich. A few wives 
and girlfriends—detached ice 


neocortex P 

A sound comes from the lower floors 
of the building—little fists banging 
against metal. Djokova looks out the 
window. On the hillside, palm trees 
brush against a statue of Ivan Pavlov 
petting a dog. This facility (also known 
as the Institute of Experimental Pathol- 
ogy and Therapy) is the brainchild of 
Ilya Ivanov, a biologist renowned for 
crossbreeding a donkey with a zebra 
and an antelope with a cow. In the 
1920s Joseph Stalin reportedly directed 
Ivanov to create a new race of human- 
ape hybrids that would serve the Soviet 
Union as soldier workers. I’m here on 
the shores of the Black Sea, inside the 
renegade Republic of Abkhazia, to find 
out if Ivanov succeeded. Only I don’t 
quite know how to ask. 

“I understand you also work in 
astrophysics?” 

Djokova’s mouth tightens. “I am low 
on the necessary specimens, young male 
ones. The healthy infants, when they are 
born, are sent to Russia.” 

Below, the banging gets louder. It’s the 
rhesus monkeys. I saw them earlier in 
their holding room, a row of metal boxes 
waiting to be wheeled into the lab. 

“Why do the males go to Russia?” 

“For the Mars mission. To be trained 
for the capsule.” 

Djokova opens a drawer in her desk. 
She hands me a photo of a macaque 
in a diaper. The monkey is flat on its 


stomach, but its arms and legs are in the 
air. It looks like a skydiver in free fall. 
“The specifications of muscle failure at 
zero gravity were developed here in my 
lab,” Djokova says. 

I look closer at the photo. The diaper is 
fastened to an operating table. Electrodes 
cover the monkey’s shaved scalp. 

“My findings are widely acknowl- 
edged. But now we have no more money 
for this kind of research.” 


My journey to the subtropics of the 
Russian riviera began in Moscow. Ever 
since Abkhazia attempted to break 
away from the Republic of Georgia 
in 1989, the Georgian government 
has responded with bombs, blockades 
and diplomatic damage control. Land 
crossings are restricted. The airport 
in Sukhumi, Abkhazia’s capital, is still 
under construction after being shelled 
to rubble. Visitors to the region typi- 
cally travel from Moscow through the 
Russian resort city of Sochi, where the 
2014 Olympics will be held, and then 
take a bus to the border. 

In 1993, as its war with Georgia 
approached a stalemate, Abkhazia 
turned to the north for protection. 

sia eventually obliged, with a few 


y V Work: bases, 


queens with long legs and dia- 
monds in their ears and nostrils—wore 
expressions of infinite boredom. 

Іп Sochi the airplane door opened to 
humidity and the smell of the sea. It was 
just past midnight. My taxi sped along 
Lenin Street between corridors of palm 
trees. The Olympics has transformed the 
city into a honeycomb of construction 
sites, running around the clock under 
floodlights. At my hotel, the bartender 
looked like a Vegas croupier. He'd just 
started his shift, he told me. After fixing 
my cocktail, he made a tray of espressos. 
I thought I was alone at the bar, but 
I turned to find the lobby filling with 
prostitutes who had timed their arrival 
with the landing of our plane. 

'The next morning I boarded a bus for 
Abkhazia. Back on Lenin Street, day- 
light revealed the construction—tourist 
lodges shaped like ski chalets, a theme 
park featuring a gigantic luge. On the 
horizon, the Caucasus lay dusted with 
snow. A few hours later I was the only 
remaining passenger on the bus. Тһе 
driver dropped me at a rusting metal 
bridge. A welcome banner read REPUBLIC 
OF ABKHAZIA. It was the kind of banner 
you'd see advertising a carnival or an 
artichoke festival. On the other side of 
the bridge I entered a trailer, where a 
young woman stamped my passport. 
My next bus stopped often for crossing 


roperty cows. On the road, columns of Abkhaz- 
895 ians returned — (continued on page 120) 


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119 


P L A Y BO Y 


120 


IVANOV 
(continued from page 106) 


on foot from the Russian border, dragging 
hand trucks loaded with rice. I was finally 
nearing Sukhumi, where Soviet scientists 
tried to create the missing link. 


In Mikhail Bulgakov’s satirical novel Heart 
of a Dog, a surgeon implants human tes- 
ticles into a mongrel from the streets of 
Moscow. After the operation, the creature 
sheds his fur, stands on two legs and barks 
the rhetoric of Stalin. “Oh, the marvelous 
confirmation of the theory of evolution!” 
the surgeon’s assistant exclaims. 

Bulgakov wrote his novel in 1925. The 
next year, the primate center started taking 
shape. Reports of experiments involving 
human-chimpanzee hybrids in the Soviet 
Union had been circulating in émigré 
newspapers since the late 1920s, but few 
observers took them seriously. The rumors 
persisted, fueled by an ambiguous 1926 
memo from the Politburo ordering the cre- 
ation of a “living war machine.” Stalin was 
purported to have told Ivanov, the nation’s 
leading animal-breeding scientist, “I want 
a new invincible human being, insensitive 
to pain, resistant and indifferent about the 
quality of the food they eat.” 

Since the breakup of the Soviet Union, 
the Russian government has gradually 
approved the publication of previously 
classified Stalin-era archives. One docu- 
ment revealed a special commission created 
in 1929 to evaluate “Ivanov’s proposed 
anthropoid interspecies hybridization 
experiments.” Did Ivanov really conduct 
these experiments? If so, what methods did 
he use—and what were the results? 

Sukhumi’s “monkey sanctuary,” as the 
locals now call it, rises above Abkhazia’s 
capital at the top of a winding road lined 
with eucalyptus trees. A crumbling stone 
staircase leads to a neoclassical entrance 
hall, its windows shattered, its walls 
cratered with shrapnel. The Russian gov- 
ernment, no doubt aware of the research 
facility’s condition, offers only a minimal 
subsidy. Many employees report to work 
without pay. Over the past 20 years, the 
primate center has doubled as a zoo to 
help pay its bills. A woman sells bags of 
orange slices beside a sign that reads po 
NOT FEED THE ANIMALS. 

After paying the entrance fee, you step 
through a small museum. Stuffed chim- 
panzees, baboons and macaques occupy 
the display cases. On the wall, a diorama 
shows an evolutionary tree with humans 
and chimps on the uppermost branch, just 
above orangutans, gorillas and bonobos. 
(We share 98.4 percent of our DNA with 
chimpanzees.) Photos show Nikita Khrush- 
chev and Ho Chi Minh grinning beside the 
monkey cages. During the primate center’s 
glory days, scientists in Abkhazia conducted 
groundbreaking research on leukemia, 
radiation and the biological effects of space 
travel. The largest display features a tribute 
to Yerosha and Dryoma, rhesus monkeys 


that were launched into space for 13 days. 
Dryoma earned medals for his service and 
retired to Havana as Mikhail Gorbachev’s 
personal gift to Fidel Castro. Meanwhile, 
you have to look hard for any trace of 
Ivanov in the institute’s museum. His black- 
and-white photograph occupies the bottom 
shelf of a corner cabinet, together with his 
manual on artificial insemination. 


In the mid-1920s the Soviet Union 
embarked on a campaign of radical scientific 
experimentation to transform one of the 
world’s most primitive agricultural countries 
into a leading research center for plants and 
animals. Biologists developed new hybrids 
of vegetables and grains, many still in use 
today. Livestock farmers, invited to suggest 
areas for future research, complained of 
unproductive hens and brood mares fail- 
ing to conceive. Could anything be done? 

Ivanov, son of a treasury official, stud- 
ied physiology at Kharkov University and 
trained in the laboratory of Ivan Pavlov. 
He was the first Russian to institutional- 
ize genetic experimentation and began 
selective breeding in stud farms. By his 
30s he had developed his own artificial 
insemination methods, which involved a 
spermicidal sponge and catheter. He'd also 
gained an international reputation by cre- 
ating previously unseen hybrids. 

Outside the primate center museum I 
caught up with senior technical scientist 
Nona Aiba. She was making her way to 
the monkey cages. Like most of the staff, 
Aiba works the occasional shift as a guide. 
A family visiting from Moscow—a young 
couple with two boys—hurried along 
beside her. The mother carried a box of 
biscuits, the father a bag of orange slices. 
We came into a courtyard, where cages 
formed a semicircle. At the first enclosure, 
macaques came leaping to the bars. 

'The boys screamed with delight. They 
placed biscuits and orange slices into the 
monkeys' outstretched palms. I took the 
opportunity to ask Aiba a few questions. 

"Can you tell me anything about 
Ilya Ivanov?" 

Aiba smirked. “His research is no longer 
a secret," she said. A crucifix hung from her 
neck. “But we do not like to talk about him." 

I held my voice steady. “Did he man- 
age to inseminate any chimps? Or maybe 
humans?" 

More macaques scaled the front of the 
cage. Four-digit numbers were tattooed 
on their chests in blue ink. On a ledge, 
the older macaques huddled together. A 
smaller male screeched for a biscuit and 
was elbowed aside. He climbed to the top 
of the cage, positioned his ass between the 
bars and aimed his shit at a stray dog. 

Aiba directed our conversation to the war 
with Georgia. During the worst days of the 
blockade, there had been little food for 
humans, let alone animals. The most dedi- 
cated staffers kept the sanctuary going. “For 


Some monkeys were released into the 
woods, where, it was hoped, they'd fend for 
themselves. Most were never seen again. A 
few returned to the edges of the sanctuary 
and waited for the humans to come back. 
These survivors and their offspring make 
up the current population of the center— 
nearly 400 rhesus monkeys, other macaques 
and baboons, traumatized from the war and 
diseased from inbreeding. 

Aiba steered us to the center of the court- 
yard, where a statue of a female baboon 
looks out toward the Black Sea. The ani- 
mal it commemorates lived to the age of 
40. She had given birth to 207 babies with 
multiple partners. Across the former Soviet 
Union, absurd monuments are as plenti- 
ful as potatoes—but in front of the giant 
baboon mother, even the tourists from Mos- 
cow stopped and smiled. “Тс is the largest 
monkey statue in the world," Aiba said. 

'The real baboons waited quietly in the 
distance. Baboons are much bigger than 
macaques and possess an unnerving stare. 
Тһе first cage held an isolated female with 
bloated red genitalia. As we approached, 
she rubbed the front of her face across the 
metal bars, back and forth, with a noise so 
loud it was hard to hear anything else. In 
an adjacent cage, six males started to hoot 
and grunt. The oldest was clearly in con- 
trol. He had shoulder-length silver hair, 
and he sat on his hands in the center ofthe 
cement floor, surrounded by feces. One of 
the younger males was grooming him. 

“This one we call the Professor," Aiba 
said. “Не got his name after we had to let 
the animals go. When the hardest fight- 
ing was over and we were finally able to 
come back, we found a lot of bodies—on 
the steps, at the bottoms of the palm trees. 
Most had starved, but some had been shot 
by Georgian soldiers. We carried the dead 
to the crematorium. In the library, we 
found the Professor. He probably smelled 
something in the old bindings. He was sit- 
ting at a desk with an open book, and he 
looked as though he was reading." 

By now the Professor had eaten almost 
all the food. Each time a treat came into 
the cage, he bit and scratched the other 
baboons until they retreated. Even though 
he had a mouthful of oranges and biscuits, 
and another pile of food at his feet, the 
other baboons cowered in the corner. 

“Тһе last time I went into the Professor's 
cage," Aiba said, “һе attacked me, too." 

I wandered off in the direction of the 
crematorium. The primate center was 
even more depressing than I'd imagined. 
I couldn't look into the monkeys' eyes, and 
it bothered me that I didn't know why. The 
crematorium is a low gray building with a 
brick chimney. It waits, fittingly, at the end 
of a charred road. I passed a gutted pas- 
senger van, its seats burned to the metal. 
'The monkey cages thinned out. A family of 
rhesus-macaques labeled MULATTOES, seem- 
ingly forgotten, had been placed on the road 
to the crematorium. One of the males rushed 
to the bars with a semi-erect penis. He stuck 


(уабуеагв,” Aiba said, “we were given only a 
read for our weekly salary. You сапе 7 it through and rubbed himself while holding 
‘Mondha g S out his other hand for a treat. 


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P L A Y B O Y 


122 


Nearby, under a palm tree, a woman in 
a long dress and silk scarves chatted with a 
female member of the kitchen staff. The first 
woman, Dr. Saida Anua, had worked in the 
primate center before the war. She had been 
chief endocrinologist in the radiation lab. 

I must have looked dejected, or just lost. 
Anua suggested she accompany me to the 
crematorium. 

An elderly worker pushed a handcart 
toward us. He recognized Anua, and they 
inquired after each other's families. I noticed 
his cart contained EEG paper—a thick stack 
of it, with a spidery trail of ink where the 
electrodes had registered their data. After 
saying good-bye, the worker pushed his cart 
back across the rubble, into a building with- 
out windows or doors. 

“They are trying to rebuild," Anua said 
cheerily as we kept walking. "Still conduct- 
ing their research. Perhaps the Americans 
can help with funding?" 

"I'm only here to find out about Ilya 
Ivanov,” I said. We'd reached the entrance 
to the crematorium, but I no longer wanted 
to go inside. 

Anua put her hands on her hips. “The 
crossbreeding? Why do you want to know 
about that?" 

“I thought the story might be interesting." 

Anua laughed. “Well, you won't find any 
records of Ivanov here." She pointed to a 
cluster of buildings in the hills. "The volun- 
teers supposedly lived up there, along with 
a gynecologist. Nothing came of it." 

She studied me awhile, then opened her 
purse. On a scrap of paper she wrote down 
an address in Moscow. "Here. This is where 
all our records were taken, right after the 
Soviet Union broke apart. At this place you 
will find Dr. Ivanov's files." 


'The five-story headquarters of the Central 
State Archive, Moscow Oblast dominates a city 


block around the corner from a surprisingly 
decent Uzbek restaurant. An armed security 
guard sits at a booth inside the door. After I 
was cleared to enter, I asked the clerk for the 
Ivanov file. She brought me a box labeled 
COLLECTION 837, DOSSIER 1 and told me to find 
a desk in the crowded reading room. 

On October 24, 1924, Ilya Ivanov deliv- 
ered a professionally disastrous research 
proposal, which would lead ultimately to 
his exile. Using his techniques of artificial 
insemination, he would attempt to create a 
human-primate hybrid. I found no evidence 
of any military involvement in his research. 
Ivanov, along with his backers, hoped to 
establish evolutionary theory, bring credit 
to Soviet science and provide an alternative 
model for humankind. 

'The official response to his proposal was 
enthusiastic. Lev Fridrichson, a representa- 
tive of the Commissariat of Agriculture, said 
Ivanov's experiments would deliver “а deci- 
sive blow to the religious teachings and may 
aptly be used in our propaganda and in our 
struggle for the liberation of working people 
from the power of the Church." The Soviet 
Academy believed a hybrid would “provide 
extraordinarily interesting evidence for a 
better understanding of the problem of the 
origin of man." Ivanov also met with the 
Pasteur Institute, which had already begun 
to use apes as models for the study of syphi- 
lis, at its outpost in Guinea. 

Ivanov initially tried to produce a hybrid 
by injecting human semen into female 
primates. Accompanied by his 22-year- 
old son, Ilya Ilich, he set up operations 
in the botanical gardens of Camayenne, 
near the capital of French Guinea. The 
colonial governor had been briefed on 
Ivanov's plans. He deployed officers to 
help catch chimps and orangutans and 
keep the experiments secret. 

Ivanov's subjects were carefully 
chosen—two female chimps named Babette 


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and Syvette. Ivanov constructed eiabor ê 
restraining nets and tested various doses of 
sleeping gas. He fed Babette and Syvette 
well, waited until after they'd had their peri- 
ods and transferred them to smaller cages, 
with nets twined around their bodies. Then, 
after administering mild doses of sleeping 
gas (Ivanov believed females needed to be at 
least semiconscious to conceive), he injected 
them with the semen of an unidentified 
human donor. According to his diary, this 
process was dangerous. The father-and-son 
team, whenever entering the cages, carried 
loaded Brownings. During one examination, 
the chimps fought back with bites so severe, 
Ilya had to be taken to the hospital. 

Word of the experiments spread to the 
U.S. The Ku Klux Klan sent Ivanov a threat- 
ening letter, insisting his research sullied 
the human race. Detroit lawyer Howell S. 
England promised to raise $100,000, pre- 
sumably in the hope that positive results 
would stimulate broader interest in atheism. 
Robert Yerkes, president of the American 
Psychological Association and eventual 
founder of the first primate lab in the U.S., 
at Yale, declared Ivanov a pioneer. “The 
effort to create an ideally suitable labo- 
ratory chimpanzee," Yerkes wrote, "may 
prove useful to those who are seeking an 
ideal for mankind." (He would later design 
his research facility after the Sukhumi Pri- 
mate Center and gain a $500,000 grant from 
the Rockefeller Foundation. A handful of 
scientists, some of whom have remained 
anonymous, claim Yerkes definitely created 
a human-chimpanzee hybrid in his lab and 
euthanized the infant to avoid the ethical 
ramifications of its existence.) 

In Africa, Ivanov failed to impregnate 
any primates. He blamed a number of 
factors—an outbreak of dysentery, inferior 
equipment, not enough docile animals. He 
decided to switch gears and inject chimp 
semen into women. This method had the 
advantage of safety because the primates 
did not have to be alive. "It is enough to 
use testes," Ivanov wrote, "quickly cut after 
the animal's death." He tried to recruit 
native women as paid subjects but received 
only refusals. One hospital in Conakry, 
administered by the French, offered its 
assistance—and in the early months of 1927 
Ivanov began to identify patients of African 
origin who had no idea they were being con- 
sidered for his experiments. But before the 
project got under way, the local governor 
impeded its progress, citing a concern for 
informed consent. Frustrated and running 
out of funds, Ivanov blamed a “backward” 
African culture. He sought female subjects 
who were willing, Russian and white. The 
Communist Academy agreed to fund his 
research in Abkhazia. 

'The Commission on Interspecific Hybrid- 
ization of Primates hoped Ivanov would 
"attract the participation of women...whose 
interest would be of idealistic and not of mon- 
etary nature." Remarkably, the commission 
was right. (Others have reported that political 
prisoners were used as subjects, but I found 
no basis for this.) Many women wrote to 
Ivanov, asking if they could assist in the eradi- 
cation of the Christian "bourgeois" family. 

Тһеге were also desperate cases. As I sat 
in the archives room with Ivanov's letters, I 


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glanced at the elderly women beside me. What 
eventually happened to his volunteers? "My 
request is to involve me in your experiment," 
one woman from Leningrad wrote. “Тһе idea 
to serve science infused me with determina- 
tion to address you, and I implore you not 
to refuse me." She even made a case for her 
fertility, noting she had once been pregnant 
and “had the pregnancy terminated." Ivanov 
promised to keep her informed of when he'd 
need her services: “Тһе experiments in 
Sukhumi will be made without doubt." 

On July 1, 1927 Ivanov and son left 
Africa. They brought with them two gorillas, 
13 chimps (including Babette and Syvette) 
and a 26-year-old orangutan named Tarzan, 
among others. The orangutan represented 
Ivanov's greatest hope. Using microscopic 
analysis, he had determined that Tarzan's 
semen contained the most viable sperma- 
tozoa of all his primates. 

Though I found no proof that Stalin 
directed Ivanov's activities, he almost cer- 
tainly would have authorized them. In 
today's money, Ivanov received more than 
$250,000 in support, and the Soviet gov- 
ernment honored the primate center with 
a title: "The Order of the Red Banner of 
Labor Scientific and Research Institute of 
Experimental Pathology and Therapy of the 
Academy of Medical Sciences." 

Almost immediately, things went wrong. 
Syvette died in her shipping crate. More 
monkeys died en route or shortly after 
arrival. Additional African primates were 
captured, crated and shipped. Ivanov's 
human volunteers were ready—they agreed 
to abstain from sex, maintain absolute secrecy 
and, with one-year contracts, live in complete 
isolation with gynecologist O.O. Topchiyeva, 
a daughter of one of Ivanov's friends. The 
file holds no information on the insemina- 
tion attempts, but the year apparently passed 
without positive results. Then Tarzan died 
of a brain hemorrhage. Ivanov ordered 
five more young adult chimpanzees. These 
arrived (alive) in the summer of 1930, but 
Ivanov would not have long to experiment 
with them. He was arrested that winter. 

Public failure in the Soviet Union during 
Stalin's reign often meant exile and death. 
Strangely, Ivanov's diaries do not indicate any 
fear of arrest, even though many of his allies 
at the academy were disappearing. Ivanov 
was accused of various counterrevolutionary 
activities—including “using a defective 
catheter"—and was exiled to five years in the 
desolate Kazakh Republic. His chief accuser 
succeeded him in many of his responsibilities, 
and without explanation, all hybrid experi- 
ments came to a halt. There is no further 
record of his female volunteers. Less than two 
years later, Ivanov died of a stroke. Mean- 
while, down in Abkhazia, researchers put the 
monkeys to use in biomedical experiments. 
Sukhumi would become the model for all 
future primate labs on the planet. 


Over the past century our approach to our 
closest animal relative has evolved dra- 
matically. Ilya Ivanov might have failed to 
produce his hybrid, but he risked his rep- 
utation—and his life—in the cause of his 
unusual campaign. Why does he matter? And 
why should we be resistant to the notion ofa 


human-chimp cross? Scientists have created 
many hybrids. Tangelos are commonplace. 
In the animal world, there are now ligers. 
Тһе first in vitro baby was born in 1978, amid 
accusations of Frankenstein science; since 
then about 4 million IVF babies have been 
born, and a developer of the procedure has 
been awarded a Nobel Prize. If we tinker with 
almost every aspect of life—cloning, grafting 
and splicing genes to suit our needs—why 
should the human species be sacrosanct? Is 
our revulsion to a Homo sapiens hybrid sim- 
ply a product of Judeo-Christian beliefs? 

'These questions pestered me as I carried 
the Ivanov file back to the archives clerk. She 
returned the box to a wall of records span- 
ning hundreds of years of Russian science, 
and I realized I didn't need more data—I 
needed wisdom. Mary Midgley came to mind. 
England's preeminent moral philosopher, 
Midgley studied with Ludwig Wittgenstein 
and has written dozens of books and articles 
on subjects ranging from evolution to wick- 
edness, including one of the most discussed 
examinations of human nature, Beast and 
Man. On my way back from Russia, I joined 
her for lunch at her home in Newcastle. 

I told Midgley about Ivanov's hybrid 
experiments, my trip to Abkhazia and what 
I had learned at the archives. I asked her 
what she thought of the scientific attempt 
to redraw the boundaries of our species. 
Midgley said nothing as she stirred our soup. 
At 92, she's still publishing. Drafts of future 
papers lay scattered around the house. 

"I seem to remember this hybrid 
question," Midgley finally said. Her eyes— 
playful, restless, bright blue—flickered in 
my direction. "It was Desmond Morris who 
claimed that only for superstitious reasons 
are we protesting. And I remember think- 
ing exactly what I think now: that he was 
absolutely wrong. We simply shouldn't try 
to create such a thing." 

“Why not?" 

"Because it would spend its entire life 
thinking of itself as an experimental sub- 
ject. What is the use?" 

“То create something new? To investigate 


the nature of humanityr’ 

"But why fabricate new animals? We 
haven't finished understanding the ones 
we've got." 

I squirmed in my chair, recalling my days 
as a philosophy undergraduate. I peered 
at a photograph of a meerkat taped to 
Midgley's cupboard. “Well—what about 
proving evolution?" 

"Evolution has been doing jolly well on 
its own. I don't think any experimental 
animal changes that. Anyway, no creature 
should be treated as a thing—and the more 
like us it is, the less we should try. Darwin 
had it right. He said ‘damnable and detest- 
able curiosity' should never be the basis for 
experimentation." 

With that, Midgley brought over our 
tomato soup. We sat across from each other 
at her kitchen table, unfolded our napkins 
and turned our conversation to fruit flies. 

Maybe philosophers and novelists should be 
paid more heed. Near the end of Bulgakov's 
Heart of a Dog, as the sadistic mongrel-man 
brings ruin to those who created him, the sur- 
geon laments, "That's what happens...when 
the investigator, instead of feeling his way and 
moving parallel to nature, forces the question 
and tries to raise the curtain." 


When Пуа Ivanov arrived in the hills of 
Sukhumi in 1927, he carried the means and 
determination to build the world's first colony 
of human-chimp hybrids. Since then, primates 
of one kind or another have procreated within 
his facility. It is not inconceivable for humans 
and primates to breed. However, humans 
have 23 pairs of chromosomes, and chimps 
have 24. Any surviving offspring would prob- 
ably be burdened with abnormalities. T'he 
hybrids would be unable to reproduce (like 
mules)—but if they were systematically “back- 
crossed" with more humans, an emerging 
species might gradually bear children. 
Today, most scientists know that primate 
reproduction requires more than simple 
artificial insemination. In order to conceive 
in captivity, chimpanzees need caressing, 


123 


P L A Y B O Y 


124 


sensitive handling and affection from their 
captors. Is it possible that Ivanov's hybridiza- 
tion methods took a more intimate turn? 

Both male and female volunteers offered 
to take part in Ivanov's research. Eman 
Fridman, former chief of informational anal- 
ysis at Sukhumi, recently wrote that elderly 
residents at the primate center, long after 
Ivanov's death, "asserted 'authoritatively' 
the existence of certain 'fools who slept with 
the monkeys.’” Whatever happened, Ivanov 
was not the only employee at Sukhumi to 
face arrest. Scientist PF. Zdrodofsky was 
thrown in jail, as were a departmental 
director, two midlevel employees and a man 
named Feldman who built one of the labo- 
ratory wings. 

On my final afternoon at the primate center, 
I came across a badly damaged building with a 
bicycle parked by an open door. Anua had told 
me that some members of the staff resided at 
the center. А few were rumored to be related 
to Ivanov's original staffers. The structure I 
discovered had holes where the windows 
should have been. Part of the roof had fallen 


"Good grief! Doesn't anyone £ 
just to gossip 


in, and a tree grew out of the top floor. The 
heat and humidity can make Abkhazia feel 
like a jungle, but when I came through the 
door of this building, I felt a chill. 

It was damp and dark inside. There was 
an overpowering smell of mold. A long black 
cord was stretched along the floor, where a 
lightbulb hung over a workbench. A pile of 
fresh wood shavings lay beneath a handsaw. 
On a shelf were carpentry tools and what 
appeared to be Christmas tree ornaments. 
A mug of tea, still steaming, stood beside 
some pencil drawings. I started to have the 
uncomfortable sensation of being watched. 
I walked quickly to the door and back onto 
the road leading to the museum. After a 
few steps, I stopped and looked over my 
shoulder. On the top floor of the building, 
sticking out of the window holes, were two 
dark-haired heads turned in my direction. 
'The heads seemed human, but I confess I 
didn't look at them for long. 


A 


"ANortd Mags 


EVELINA 


(continued from page 66) 
passion of Che Guevara and the cunning of 
Silvio Berlusconi.' " 

Sometime after, Evelina's phone rang. 
It was Berlusconi's secretary: ^I am calling 
from the office of the prime minister." "I 
said, ‘Yes, and I’m Mother Teresa! " Evelina 
says. But it was no joke. 

They met for tea in Berlusconi's Rome 
apartment, and the attraction was immediate. 
“I was totally in love after I left his apart- 
ment the first time," Evelina says. "Of course, 
power is an aphrodisiac in any field." The 
next day she went with Berlusconi to lunch 
at his villa in Sardinia. “It was a beautiful day, 
much more romantic. We had lunch. It was 
a light fish lunch. He eats very healthily. He 
is 75. He doesn't drink, he doesn't smoke, he 
doesn't take drugs. Just women! In Italy it is 
very common to have the ‘women disease.’ 
It's not just Berlusconi. After lunch that day, 
let's just say we were together." 

And how were things that first time in the 
bedroom? "It was fantastic!" says Evelina. 
“He is a man. Very male. It is the fantasy of 
journalists to imagine he is into crazy stuff. 
It is true that when there is love, you can 
do a lot. But we had a beautiful relation- 
ship. It was clean." 

Is Berlusconi still capable of performing 
six times a night, as his personal physician 
has said in the Italian press? Says Evelina, 
"It depends on the woman." 

Evelina insists on calling the affair her 
"]ove story." And it persisted, even though 
Berlusconi was married at the time. "I was 
a proper girlfriend," she says. ^I remember 
when I was seeing him during the political 
campaigns of 2006 and 2008. He would come 
back to his apartment in Rome and his jacket 
pockets would be full of pieces of paper with 
the telephone numbers of women who had 
put them in there. He was proud of the fact 
that women had been slipping their phone 
numbers into his pockets all day. He is quite 
a vain person, so he likes the attention. 

"One time I got so jealous," she contin- 
ues. ^I was screaming and shouting and 
scribbling on the mirror with lipstick, I was 
so crazy. He walked out of my apartment, 
and after a few minutes I decided to chase 
him. I ran out into the street, but I couldn't 
see his car anywhere. So I jumped on my 
Vespa motorbike and was driving around 
the streets really fast looking for him. Then 
I saw his big presidential limousine in the 
distance. I drove as fast as I could over 
the cobblestone streets until I caught up 
with the car, and I started banging on the 
windows with both fists. Berlusconi rolled 
down the window and said, 'Evelina, you 
must not be so jealous.” 

Then опе day the affair came to an end, 
in 2009. Berlusconi was going through 
a divorce. His mother had died, and the 
bunga bunga parties started. And Evelina 
went her own way, soldiering on with her 
career. “I haven't yet met another man like 
that," she says. Then she states the obvious: 
"Itis hard to find a man who can follow the 
prime minister of Italy, Silvio Berlusconi, 
into my bedroom." 


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P L A Y B O Y 


126 


RAMSAY 


(continued from page 102) 
self-obsessed and start thinking about put- 
ting makeup on and watching the way I 
walk. “Oh, did I really say that?" Fuck it. It 
is what it is. I'd rather watch Deadliest Catch 
or go out for dinner. 


PLAYBOY: What's something a restaurant 
owner never wants a customer to know? 
RAMSAY: That customers should complain 
more. You know, food is expensive nowa- 
days, and these fucking sommeliers come 
along with their thousand-page wine list 
and practically throw it in your lap. They 
know customers will be intimidated and 
buy something overpriced. I say you should 
always put them on the spot: “Come back 
to me with a red wine at $30 or $40. Come 
back to me with a choice. Don't give me an 
encyclopedia I have to bury my head in for 
20 minutes while I'm trying to entertain 
guests. That's your job." 


PLAYBOY: Aren't you and Mario Batali sup- 
posedly in some kind of feud after he called 
your cooking outdated and you called him 
Fanta Pants? 

RAMSAY: That's cow shit. People fuel that 


crap because they want to see me go on 
Iron Chef against him. 


PLAYBOY: Would you ever go on Iron Chef 
America? 

RAMSAY: Would I go on? [pauses] Yeah, I think 
I would, to be honest. Definitely. Would I 
lose? Put it this way: Give me one ingredi- 
ent or five ingredients, and give those same 
ingredients to 10 chefs from around the 
world. I fucking guarantee I will come up 
with the best dish across those ingredients, 
hands down. Everything I've ever learned 
from a culinary perspective has come from 
getting knocked down and fighting my 
way back. You brush yourself off and come 
right back swinging, right back with a bet- 
ter recipe or presentation. Га win Iron Chef, 
guaranteed. 


PLAYBOY: How do you not weigh 300 pounds? 
RAMSAY: I like the Chinese ethic of eating four 
or five small bowls a day. I don't think chefs 
should be fat. I was a fat chef once. I think 
it's the most disgusting trait for any chef to 
walk into a dining room at 450 pounds and 
expect people to eat his or her food. My 
father died of a heart attack at the age of 53. 
I've never smoked in my life. I love keeping 
fit. I don't like sitting around. 


PLAYBOY: Clearly not. You have more than 
two dozen restaurants around the world, 
three TV shows here and three in the U.K., 
cookbooks, promotional tie-ins, four young 
kids. Do you ever worry you're spreading 
yourself too thin? 

RAMSAY: Oh, come on. Do you think 
Wolfgang Puck has spread himself too 
thin with Puck Express and a $400 million 
company? Fuck no. For a guy with 127 res- 
taurants, he looks great and he's cool as a 
cucumber. I can only hope to continue at 
that level at 62. But he does it the same way 
I do it and the same way Thomas Keller 
or Joël Robuchon or any other great chef 
does: You hire great people. 


PLAYBOY: But your restaurant customers pay 
a lot of money to have a meal by Gordon 
Ramsay. Aren't they entitled to a meal by 
Gordon Ramsay? 

RAMSAY: I’ve been listening to that shit for 
the past 30 years. If you buy an Armani 
suit, you don't ask if Giorgio stitched it him- 
self. Did Hugo Boss personally make that 
T-shirt? When I bought my Ferrari 458, I 
didn't ask Enzo to put the fucking wheels 
on so I can go 222 miles an hour. No way. 
Give me a fucking break. 


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PLAYBOY: You like Ferraris? 

RAMSAY: Í love Ferraris, Lamborghinis, 
Maseratis. I love the precision and the speed. 
But you can get into trouble. I was in my 
brand-new Maserati Gran Turismo the other 
day and turned down the wrong side of the 
road. I thought I was back in England. The 
LAPD is suddenly on my ass with flashing 
lights. I get out of the car, and the cop goes 
crazy, pulling his gun out. “Get back in the 
car!” It's half past midnight, and Гуе got no 
ID on me. He's going bananas thinking I 
stole the fucking Maserati. A bunch of girls 
from a pizza place come outside and start 
going, ^Hey, chef Ramsay, we love you!" The 
cop's like, "Who are you?" I say, “Chef Ram- 
say," and I have my life back again. 


Q12 

PLAYBOY: It sounds as though it was a little 
tougher getting out of trouble in Costa Rica 
this year. 

RAMSAY: Yeah, that was a little bit hairy. I was 
doing a documentary on the illegal shark fin 
trade. Shark fin tastes like nothing, but it’s 
a sign of wealth and power in Asia to have 
it in your soup. It's a billion-dollar industry 
built on pure arrogance. The fishmongers 
have these armed guards patrolling fortress- 
like towers, so we tried to get in but ran 
into a guard. Our cameraman fell over, they 
poured petrol all over my hair and neck and 
tried to set us on fire. One stupid chef with a 
documentary crew was never going to stop 
these assholes from decimating this popula- 
tion of fish, but I thought, Why the hell not 
try? It's like drugs or anything else. If you 
don't take a stand, who will? 


Q13 

PLAYBOY: Anthony Bourdain has written 
about rampant drug use among chefs. 
What's your experience with drugs? 
RAMSAY: I’ve never touched a drug in my 
life. Watching my father drink himself into a 
stupor and become an alcoholic and watch- 
ing my brother turn into a heroin addict, I 
always ran from it. I lost a chef to cocaine 
once. We had another chef from Kitchen 
Nightmares last year who jumped off a bridge. 
How you handle pressure in life is different 
from person to person. It’s so unfair to gen- 
eralize or criticize. Do chefs need cocaine 
to handle the pressure? Far from it. It’s not 
rock and roll. It’s cooking, for fuck’s sake. 


Q14 

PLAYBOY: By the way, do your friends panic 
when you come over for a dinner party? 
RAMSAY: I hate dinner parties. Hate them. I 
really try not to go—mostly because I can’t 
sit there and pretend everything's delicious 
when it's not. The food is so often shit. It's 
just too hard to be diplomatic. 


Q15 

PLAYBOY: What's one simple thing everyone 
can do to cook better? 

RAMSAY: Use a blindfold. I teach my chefs in an 
unorthodox manner. My chefs rarely sit down 
and eat what they've just cooked, so I like to 
blindfold them. It's amazing. It creates this 
level of intimacy with the food. All the senses 
start to rev up and you begin to salivate and 


get excited. There's a level of temptation, of 
expectation. Do it for a month when you sit 
down to a meal, and your mouth, your tongue, 
your senses will be so much more connected to 
flavor. The palate opens itself to pleasure. 


Q16 

PLAYBOY: You make it sound so erotic. 
RAMSAY: Cooking is a lot like sex, actually. 
If you want to maximize it, you have to be 
selfish. You have to be the biggest selfish 
bastard ever to wear a chef's jacket. I'm 
selfish for great flavors and for perfection 
of the experience, and I think that's what 
makes me a great fucking chef. There's also 
something quite sexy about confidence, and 
that's such a big fucking part of being a 
chef. Confidence but also subtlety, control, 
awareness, heat, execution, visual impact, 
hunger, satisfaction. Absolutely, cooking is 
like sex. Fuck yeah. 


Q17 

PLAYBOY: What is it with you and the word 
fuck? 

RAMSAY: It's a beautiful word. When you tell 
someone to fuck off, it really is “Get out or 
disappear." Straight to the point. And don't 
kid yourself. Everybody uses it. The queen 
swears, for God's sake. People have to stop 
being prudish. 


Q18 
PLAYBOY: Your hair—shouldn't it be more 
age appropriate? 
RAMSAY: I'm going gray, so using a little color 
has been my one concession to vanity. Then 
again, I look at Rod Stewart at fucking 66 
years of age playing like there's no tomor- 
row and producing babies, and he still plays 
with his hair. Why shouldn't I? I don't think 
I'm pampered, but I do take care of myself 
and how I look. Am I plucking my eye- 
brows? No. Am I having a manicure? No. 
Do I sit in the fucking sun bed? No. My hair 
is where I draw the line. 


012 

PLAYBOY: You nearly became а professional 
soccer player. How would your life have 
been different? 

RAMSAY: That was a long time ago, when I 
was 17. I loved it and was good at it. But 
even if I had gone all the way, I'd be long 
gone by now, retired and on the shelf. I sup- 
pose I might be a player-coach nowadays. 
I'm a great teacher, and I enjoy teaching. 
But I’m glad I got injured and ended up 
turning to cooking. It was an accident but 
the happiest one of my life. 


Q20 

PLAYBOY: Would it bother you to be remem- 
bered as TV’s screaming chef? 

RAMSAY: I don't think about that stuff, to be 
honest. I'm the same guy I've always been 
and always will be. I'm no different than I 
was 10 years ago. I have the same values. 
Of course, I have to do voice-overs now, but 
I'm fortunate that everything I do revolves 
around what I love most, and that's food. If 
I'm remembered as someone who got to do 
what he loved and did it as well as anyone on 


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P L A Y B O Y 


128 


PHILIP K. DICK 


(continued from page 97) 
The Tibetan Book of the Dead, in Julian 
Jaynes’s The Origin of Consciousness in the 
Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind and in Rob- 
ert Altman’s film Three Women. 

Dick came to call this writing his “Exe- 
gesis.” The process of its production was 
frantic, obsessive and, it may be fair to say, 
involuntary. The creation of The Exegesis 
was an act of human survival in the face 
of a life-altering crisis both intellectual and 
emotional: the crisis of revelation. No mat- 
ter how resistant we may find ourselves to 
this ancient and unfashionable notion, to 
approach The Exegesis from any angle at all 
a reader must first accept that the subject 
is revelation, a revelation that came to the 
person of Philip K. Dick in February and 
March of 1974 and subsequently demanded, 
for the remainder of Dick’s days on Earth, 
to be understood. 

The attempt eventually came to cover 
more than 8,000 sheets of paper, largely 
handwritten. Dick often wrote through 
the night, running an idea through its 
paces over as many as a hundred sheets in 
a sleepless night or series of nights. These 
episodes—feats—of superhuman writing are 
astonishing to contemplate; they impressed 
even an established graphomaniacal writer 


Es 


a — r 


“Last but not least, 


the mam next door for constamt 
oughta be m 


like Dick, who'd once written seven novels 
in a single year. Their fundamental themes 
come as no surprise. The body of work 
that has established Dick's reputation—his 
40-odd realist and surrealist novels, includ- 
ing Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? (the 
basis for the film Blade Runner), A Scanner 
Darkly, Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said and 
the Hugo Award-winning The Man in the 
High Castle, written between 1952 and his 
death in 1982—concerns itself with ques- 
tions like “What is it to be human?" and 
“What is the nature of the universe?" 

Dick increasingly came to view his ear- 
lier writings—specifically his science fiction 
novels of the 1960s—as an intricate and 
unconscious precursor to his visionary 
insights. Thus he began to use these, as 
much as any ancient text or the Encyclopaedia 
Britannica, as a source for his investigations. 
Never, to our knowledge, has a novelist 
borne down with such eccentric concentra- 
tion on his own oeuvre, seeking to crack 
its code as if his life depended on it. The 
writing in these pages represents, perhaps 
above all, a laboratory of interpretation, in the 
most absolute and open-ended sense of the 
word. When Dick began to write and pub- 
lish novels based on the visionary material 
unearthed in The Exegesis he commenced 
interpreting those as well. So, as these 
writings accumulated, they also became self- 


t to thank met 


"WottdMdgs 


referential: The Exegesis is a study of, ang 
other things, itself, and his letter to Fitting 
provides a fascinating sample of that exhaus- 
tive and otherworldly study. 

—Jonathan Lethem and Pamela Jackson 


Letter to Peter Fitting—June 28, 1974 


Dear Peter, 

In regards to some of the intellectual, 
theoretical subjects all of us discussed the 
day you and your friends were here to visit, 
I recall in particular my statement to you 
(which I believe you got on your tape, too) 
that “the universe is moving backward,” 
a rather odd statement on the face of it I 
admit. What I meant by that is something 
which at the time I could not really express, 
having had an experience, several in fact, 
but not having the terms. Now, by having 
read further, I have some sort of terms, and 
would like to describe some of my personal 
experience using, in a pragmatic way, the 
concept of tachyons, which are supposed 
to be particles of cosmic origin (I am quot- 
ing Arthur Koestler) which fly faster than 
light and consequently in a reversed time 
direction. “They would thus,” Koestler 
says, “carry information from the future 
into our present, as light and X-rays from 
distant galaxies carry information from 
the remote past of the universe into our 
now and here. In the light of these devel- 
opments, we сап no longer exclude on a 
priori grounds the theoretical possibility 
of precognitive phenomena.” And so forth 
(Harper’s, July 1974). 


I had been for several months experi- 
menting with something I read about while 
doing research on the brain, in particular 
in new discoveries on split-brain phenom- 
ena, for my novel A Scanner Darkly; I had 
come across the fact that the brain can 
transduce external fields of both high and 
low frequency providing that the ther- 
mal factor is quite low. Also, I had read 
about which vitamins in megadosages can 
improve neural firing and produce vastly 
increased brain efficiency. I began attempt- 
ing, on the basis of what I knew, to bring 
on both the hemispheres of my own brain 
using the recipe for megadoses of the water 
soluble vitamins; at the same time I tried 
again and again to exclude the ordinary 
external electrical fields that we customar- 
ily tune into: man-made fields, which we 
consider “signal,” and at the same time I 
tried to directly transduce what we usually 
think of as “noise,” in particular weak natu- 
ral electrical fields. 


One night I found myself flooded with 
colored graphics which resembled the non- 
objective paintings of Kandinsky and Klee, 
thousands of them one after the other, so 
fast as to resemble “flash cut” used in movie 
work. This went on for eight hours. Each 
picture was balanced, had excellent har- 
mony and possessed idiomatic style—that 
of a well-known nonobjective artist. I could 
not account for what I was seeing (this took 
place in the dark, and was evidently phos- 
phene activity within my eyes, but the source 
of the stimulation of the phosphenes was 


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130 


an enigma to me at the time), but I was cer- 
tain that those tens of thousands of lovely, 
balanced, quite professional and aesthetic 
harmonious graphics could not be originat- 
ing within my own mind or brain. I have 
no facility with graphics, and besides, there 
were too many of them; even Picasso, whose 
style predominated for over an hour, never 
actually painted so many, although he very 
likely saw that many in his own head. 

In later studies about the brain I learned 
of an inhibiting brain fluid called GABA, 
which when its effect drops drastically, which 
is to say when an external stimulus causes 
disinhibition and firing of a programmed 
sequence up to then inhibited, such col- 
ored graphics are often experienced. So 
I concluded that massive—unique in my 
life, in fact—disinhibition had taken place, 
although I could not identify the external 
stimulus, nor comprehend the programmed 
or engrammed sequences. At the same time 
(in the days following) I found myself pos- 
sessed with enormous energy and did a lot 
of unusual things. This, in fact, is what prob- 
ably raised my blood pressure so much that 
my doctor had to hospitalize me. I was con- 
stantly active, and in new ways. This tends to 
confirm the theory of massive disinhibition 
and unusual neural firing along hitherto 
unusual neural pathways, perhaps an entire 
hemisphere of the brain held in readiness 
until then—I did not know for what. 

АП this may have been induced by the 
huge doses of water soluble vitamins I took, 
gram after gram of vitamin C, for instance. 
But I doubt it. At the same time as I expe- 
rienced the release of psychic energy (to 
use Esther Harding's phrase, picked up by 
Jung), I became conscious of pathic language 
directed at me from all creatures, and finally, 
as it spread—and this is the point I'm getting 
at—from the direction of the sky, especially at 
night. I had a keen intuition that information 


"The monitors all show that yo 
need to тип so 


P — 


of some kind was arriving at us all, in fact 
bombarding us, from sidereal space. 

For a time I imagined that an ESP exper- 
iment had somehow by accident involved 
me: the long-range transmission of graphics. 
I wrote to a lab in Leningrad and told them 
about my experience, having at the time the 
feeling that the point of origin of these sig- 
nals was far distant, and hence in the USSR. 
Now I believe the point of origin was even 
farther: I think that I somehow for a short 
time transduced tachyon bombardment, 
which comes to us constantly, and which ani- 
mals utilize to engram them into performing 
what we call “instinctive actions.” I had been 
consciously trying to transduce external 
weak fields, which I know to be possible, and 
I know that when this is done successfully 
that the brain's efficiency is increased; how- 
ever, I had no preconception of what fields 
I might transduce—except that I felt they 
would be natural and not man-made—and 
what information, if any, they might con- 
tain. I was hoping only for increased neural 
efficiency. I got more: actual information 
about the future, for during the next three 
months, almost each night, during sleep I 
was receiving information in the form of 
printouts: words and sentences, letters and 
names and numbers—sometimes whole 
pages, sometimes in the form of writing 
paper and holographic writing, sometimes 
oddly, in the form of a baby's cereal box on 
which all sorts of quite meaningful infor- 
mation was written and typed, and finally 
galley proofs held up for me to read which I 
was told in my dream "contained prophecies 
about the future," and during the last two 
weeks a huge book, again and again, with 
page after page of printed lines. 

Without the tachyon theory I would lack 
any kind of scientific formulation, and would 
have to declare that "God has shown me the 
sacred tablets in which the future is written" 


net 


and so forth, as Ша our roreiatners, pack «a 
the deserts of Israel under the sky as they 
tended their sleeping flocks. Koestler also 
points out that according to modern theory 
the universe is moving from chaos to form; 
therefore tachyon bombardment would con- 
tain information which expressed a greater 
degree of gestalt than similar information 
about the present; it would, to us at this time 
continuum, seem more living, more animated 
by a conscious spirit, to us giving rise to the 
concept of God. 'This would definitely give 
rise to the idea of purpose, in particular pur- 
pose lying in the future. Thus we now have 
a scientific method of considering the notion 
of teleology, I think, which is why I am writ- 
ing you now, to express this, my own sense of 
final causes, as we discussed that day. 

Much of this printed-out information 
arriving in dreams has had a teaching, 
shaping and directing quality; it tends to 
inform and guide me, and make me aware 
of what I should do. It literally educates 
me, and I'm sure each small creature, each 
bug and plant and animal and fish, has the 
same sense of it. Гуе watched my cat, now, 
as he sits out on the sundeck at night; he is 
beyond doubt considering the sidereal world 
above him and not moving objects below— 
when he comes in the house an hour or two 
later he seems modified, as if he has been 
taught during that period and knows it. I 
think this happens to us all but I managed 
consciously to transduce above the thresh- 
old of awareness, which is unusual but not 
unique, and became aware of this constant 
natural and normal process which shapes all 
life from the future, as Koestler describes. 
Itis often described as the “Divine Plan," or 
better yet ^Continual Creation." Any such 
terms will do, but I regard it for my pur- 
pose as a continual informational printout 
from the future which directs us all, not in 
the coercive sense that the past does, but 
experienced—and rightly so—as volition. 
As, so to speak, free will. This term sounds 
right to me each morning when I wake up 
and reflect on the pages of print I've seen 
during the night; I am not forced to do what 
the information brings to my attention; I am 
free to consider it, digest and understand it, 
and, with its assistance, act on it. 

For well over two months I was convinced 
that the Holy Spirit, which is to say God, was 
directing me, and in a sense this is true; it 
is a matter of semantics: at one time these 
would have been the only terms we had 
available to us; we would have talked about 
a divine vision and so forth. What I think 
now is that more modern terms can be bet- 
ter applied; the future is more coherent than 
the present, more animate and purposeful, 
and in a real sense, wiser. It knows more, 
and some of this knowledge gets transmit- 
ted back to us by what seems to be a purely 
natural phenomenon. We are being talked 
to, by a very informed Entity: that of all cre- 
ating as it lies ahead of us in time. 

Cordially, 

Philip K. Dick 


From The Exegesis of Philip K. Dick, edited by 
Jonathan Lethem and. Pamela Jackson, available 
from Houghton Mifflin Harcourt in November. 


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MISTRESS 
(continued from page 100) 


be with you but you’re so damn persistent, 
be our guest. Eventually, you'll be looking 
at a whole lot of heartache. To a gentleman, 
that kind of fuckery isn't cool. 

Develop a lifestyle in which you maintain a 
degree of independence and control over your 
time and money: You'll need a steady job or 
income, your own finances, a flexible sched- 
ule, the means to travel and different sets of 
friends and acquaintances. If you're in your 
mid-20s and messing around with someone 
your own age, then she's not really your mis- 
tress and you don't really have to do much 
other than be nice and honest. 

You must always be honest: 'Tell her you are 
never going to break up with your wife or 
fiancée. You may have to explain yourself 
more than once, especially if she's unat- 
tached. Be patient. She'll often have to 
explain it to her best friend, and what sounds 
right when you're together may get lost in 
translation when she has to repeat it. Do you 
love her? It may well come to that. Remem- 
ber what that love is, and keep it in context. 
We are all capable of loving more than one 
person in our lifetime—or at the same time 
(your parents, your kids, your wife). Would 
you continue to love your mistress if there 
were no obstacles? Would your love grow? 
It's possible, but you and she will never find 
out, which is why you must be gentle but 
disciplined about boundaries. These are the 
terms. She can always opt out. If the rela- 
tionship becomes emotionally detrimental 
to either of you, it must end. 

Married mistresses are best: If her marriage 
is relatively benign or stable, the biggest 
challenge to you both will be scheduling. 
On the flip side, the advantage of single 
women is their availability. But eventually 
a single woman will move on to a full-time 
boyfriend, so enjoy it while you can. 

Don't shit where you eat: We're all familiar 
with the phrase. Not only should you avoid 
intra-office stupidity, you must be diligent 
about keeping your relationship beyond 
detection by co-workers. No phone calls 
from her at the office and probably none to 
her either. Do not bring her to office parties 
or to drinks with the crew after work. Most 
important, do not use your company e-mail. 
We heard about a man who had his com- 
pany e-mails frozen and searched because 
of a lawsuit. One day he met the law clerk 
in charge of sifting through them. “So,” 
our friend asked, “you have access to all my 
e-mails?" “Yeah,” the clerk said with a goofy 
grin. "Some interesting stuff there, I'd imag- 
ine," our friend said. "Sure is!" the clerk said. 
Be more careful than our foolish friend. 

Stay away from Facebook: When she asks 
if you are on it or active, just shrug. Say 
you're not the kind of person to share too 
much and you're short on time. Chances are 
she'll volunteer that she won't post anything 
revealing about your situation. Never blow 
up about any indiscretions she may make 
(like posting a picture of you). Say some- 
thing like “I'm not opposed to it emotionally. 
I'm just concerned that someone may see it 
and we may have to cool things a bit until 
suspicion dies down." She'll always opt to 


maintain access rather than continue to 
maneuver to make your relationship more 
official. She may occasionally yearn for you 
to break up your marriage and be with her. 
Talk about it, and go back to square one. 

Cell phones, texting and sexting—an unscientific 
approach: As stated earlier, be leery of e-mail. 
Everything you read in the press tells you 
that e-mails are forever. It turns out texts are 
too—but we'd rather take our chances with 
texts. E-mails are too intertwined with our 
work; they can be read and screened for a 
variety of reasons. Here are the advantages of 
texts over e-mails and phone calls: If you have 
unlimited texting as part of your phone plan 
(get unlimited texting!) the numbers are more 
difficult to access. Sure, you say, phone calls 
don’t always show up on your bills, either. But 
did you know that the numbers from your 
phone calls and texts can be accessed online if 
someone goes into your account and searches 
for recent activity? Even though your wireless 
company tells you it logs the calls forever, the 
numbers are hard to find after a month. But 
for those 30 days, you are vulnerable. 

Say your spouse is suspicious. She sees 
40-minute calls to a number she doesn’t 
recognize. She may do some digging—like 
surreptitiously grabbing your cell phone to 
look at your call history. Ha! You’ve got her 
there—you've eliminated the calls to your 
leggy lovely on the side. Wrong move: The 
absence of that particular number while all 
the others are still there will arouse her sus- 
picion even more. So will clearing your call 
history. Who does that when they're not 
cheating? It may motivate her to find out 
more. Most online phone number searches 
won't yield much—almost everyone keeps 
his or her cell phone information private 
and out of phone books. But for a low 
monthly price some outfits will provide all 
the data she needs on a suspect number. 
Or worse yet, she can just dial the number 
and unleash hell. Don't rely on technology 
to keep you in the clear. That said, we like 
the CATE (Call and Text Eraser) app for 
Android, which was developed by a police 
officer. It intercepts texts and phone calls 
from your lover and hides them. The only 
way to access the intercepted calls and 
messages is to use your phone to open the 
application, which is password protected. 

More phone talk: You can lock your phone, 
but that's also suspect. The goal here is to 
be sneaky but transparent. Have lots of 
names and numbers in your directory, and 
make them all cryptic—use the names of the 
places where your friends (and girlfriends) 
work instead of their personal names. And 
keep your phone calls short. You can be 
more adventurous with texting—get as 
nasty as you want to be. Hell, send her pic- 
tures of your johnson (leave your face out 
of it) when she sends you pictures of her 
freshly groomed kitty (it's going to hap- 
pen; it always does). Is there risk involved? 
Sure, but only among the crazy folk—and 
a crazy will get you no matter how careful 
you are. You'll have only yourself to blame 
for not sussing that out. Just make sure 
you're vigilant about immediately erasing 
all texts, sent and received. 

Yes, you can be a dick: Does she text or call at 
odd hours? That is verboten. It's your only 
rule and must be strictly enforced. 


Spy phones: 'Too nerve-racking to engage in 
steady phone maintenance? Too much shar- 
ing when it comes to phone plans and bills? 
You can do what the gangsters do: Go to a 
deli or cheap electronics outfit and buy an 
inexpensive phone with a one-month plan 
built in. She can get one too. Just be sure to 
stash it someplace safe. 

Stay busy: Keep your co-workers at a distance 
from your close family and friends. It's best if 
you have a third set of acquaintances—clients 
or business associates, friends from a softball 
league or continuing-education program. 
You need to be out one night a week, rotating 
among the groups, to give yourself some cover. 
Make sure the nights you're with your mistress 
are not late nights or nights when you're hard 
to find. Daytime trysts are even better; it's eas- 
ler to explain time out ofthe office to your boss 
than weird absences to your wife. 

Never see your girlfriend on weekends: 'Those 
are for family. Also, try this: Every time you 
do something fun with your girlfriend—a 
concert, a great restaurant, a little vacation 
explained away as a work trip—do the same 
with your wife. After all, she's your original 
partner in fun. 

Ideally, you have an expense account: Which 
means you have a work-related credit card 
with charges completely separate from the 
running of the household and therefore not 
necessary to show to your wife. You mustn't 
steal from work or take money from your 
family beyond what you have budgeted in 
the past for your own good time (your wife 
should have the same amount of money to 
spend and equal autonomy; not only is it 
fair but it allows her to make expenditures 
she can hide from you, too). 

Online ticketing: Ah, Priceline.com, boon 
to passionate couples in need of temporary 
shelter. What great deals! The day before 
your sexathon, set a price and search for 
luxury hotels. They have great bars, they're 
romantic or trendy and always ready for 
illicit behavior, and the desk clerks will rec- 
ognize you as one of a steady stream of 
guests bent on messing up the sheets, buy- 
ing a dirty movie on LodgeNet and leaving 
sometime after midnight. The saucy ones 
will ask, “Do you have any luggage?" 

You'll meet опе or two of her friends: Shell 
swear at first that she won't tell anyone, but 
she will—usually to brag about the sex. It's 
always about the sex. Because of the good sex, 
her friend will give a conditional endorse- 
ment of the affair, which for you is important 
in keeping the relationship happy and light. 
Her friend will want to meet you because she 
wants to have great sex too—not necessarily 
with you but someone like you. First, though, 
she needs to know what to look for. 

Which is why youre well-dressed: Ап expen- 
sive watch means you're not stressed about 
money. Great shoes in good condition are 
signs of authority and your ability to shoul- 
der responsibility and take care of things 
(signs of a daddy figure). Clean fingers, 
skin and general grooming are a must. And 
when you make your move, an expensive 
and unique scent will make her succumb to 
a surge of pheromones. 

15: You must be careful with gifts. You 


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134 


unpredictable. If you pay for all meals, 
drinks and hotels, she'll generally overlook 
a lack of gifts. But as time goes on, you will 
be on the hook. Jewelry is a good one for 
single women—.as long as you steer clear 
of rings. Don't get her any housewares or 
home items: Domestication is not an option 
here. For that reason, avoid things for the 
both of you to share. You should probably 
avoid lingerie. She's your mistress; that's her 
department. You run the risk of offending 
by being too tacky, salacious or a poor judge 
of her body with the wrong undergarments. 
(Shopping for lingerie together, however, is 
a different story.) Beachy vacation-oriented 
stuff is cool—think sarong. And a big yes 
to vibrators! Start innocently, with a bullet 
vibe, then move on to dildos and butt plugs 
as she reveals more about how she likes to 
get down. High-end perfume (think Tom 
Ford or Frederic Malle) is also great: lavish 
but not too personal. 

Vacations and holidays: 'Talking about vaca- 
tions is much better than actually pulling 
them off. Make no promises. The danger of 
vacationing together is that it may illustrate 
how well you get along as a couple when 
you have relatively unlimited time to share. 
But of course you'd get along! Just remind 
her how you must stick to your limits and 
how vacations aren't real. When it comes to 
major holidays, again, family comes first. 
Do not do anything foolish around Christ- 
mas. Meet her for drinks a week before, 
give her a small token, promise a larger gift 
when you get together after. Generally, the 
week between Christmas and New Year's 
will provide plenty of opportunity to get 
together—with a great meal, maybe a nice 
hotel—and plenty of opportunity to shower 
her with affection. Plus, if you're crafty, 
you can even pick up a lavish gift for her (a 


shearling coat perhaps—furriers offer their 
best deals after Christmas) at half price. 

Don't loan ату money you need returned: She 
may call it a loan, but it's not. So don't loan 
too much. Be generous and don't dun her. 
Warning: Never pay her rent. We knew a 
young woman who had a two-year affair 
with her boss. They shared an apartment; 
he swore he'd break up with his wife any 
minute. When his wife finally got clued in 
and told the mistress he'd never leave, this 
heartbroken girl turned vengeful, lawyered 
up (she left their mutual employer during 
the affair to keep things quiet and missed 
out on raises, etc.) and put her former sugar 
daddy on the hook for $100,000. Bad driv- 
ing, dude! So there it is. Don't fuck up. 

Be prepared to get caught: Man up. Realize 
what you're risking. Your whole world may 
turn upside down. Or it may not. When or 
if it happens, behave honorably. You never 
meant to hurt anyone. What you're count- 
ing on is your resiliency—that no matter 
how complicated life gets or how great a 
challenge you may face (turning 60 percent 
of your fundage over to your ex-wife), you 
will just bear down and beat the problem. 
Never lose your confidence. Cover your 
tracks. Deny what you can. But know when 
the end is near, and don't be hurtful. Also, 
there's no insurance against this happen- 
ing. One of the worst things you can do is to 
try unilaterally to clean the slate and bring 
a world of agony to your wife by making a 
spur-of-the-moment confession. Your wife 
didn't do anything to deserve being told 
you've been stepping out or that unspoken 
problems between the two of you led you to 
act this way. She did nothing wrong. 

You’re just selfish, and you like to fuck. 


чаш; net 


JS 


LORI ARNOLD 


(continued from page 62) 
my jeans, hanging down the belt loops and 
over my butt. 

“Where you been?" my dad asked when 
I got home. 

"Out with Bobby." 

“Then what's this?" He grabbed that sock. 

I was still buzzed, but I was so embar- 
rassed I didn't know what to say. I was 18, 
and even I knew that was young for what I'd 
been doing. But I wasn't going to change. 
'Tom had already moved across town to live 
with my mom and her husband, Kenny. Tom 
had long hair and was one of the coolest 
kids in school. He was playing drums then, 
and Kenny was playing guitar and letting 
'Tom play drums with him in his bar band. 
I told Dad, “Гта following Tom. I'm mov- 
ing in with Mom." 


5. 

Mom had permed dark hair, real sharp fea- 
tures, big brown eyes, a short, well-shaped 
nose and pursed lips. She was always wise- 
cracking and joking, and every guy in town 
knew her because of her looks and person- 
аШу. She lived over on Clay Street, closer to 
my junior high school—not that I would be 
going there much—and life at her house was 
a party. She was waitressing and bartend- 
ing at a few places, making good money in 
tips, and Kenny had a job at John Deere. 
There were always people over, drinking 
and smoking grass. 

I used to drink beer with my mom, and 
she got me a few shifts helping her out at 
the Elks Lodge or working banquets at the 
Holiday Inn. When I got tired she would 
give me half a diet pill, a Preludin. That's a 
drug they don't prescribe anymore because 
so many people were getting addicted to it, 
even shooting it up, and my mom was giv- 
ing it to me when I was 12, 13. But that's 
because she was getting it from her doc- 
tor, so she figured, How could it be bad? 
When I took that stuff my shift went by in 
a happy blur. 

I was also sniffing paint, getting high in 
front of the school more than I was going 
into the school. Then I just dropped out. 
Tom used to dog me out for doing drugs. 
He didn't like anybody doing drugs. I was 
hanging out with the stoner kids smoking 
dope. But since Tom was a popular kid 
in school, it helped being known as Tom 
Arnold's sister. I knew he would always be 
there for me, support me, whatever, but he 
was already busy with other stuff, playing in 
bands, and he was the class clown. Looking 
back it's easy to say, ^Oh, Tom Arnold, he 
was always headed somewhere. He wasn't 
going to stay in Ottumwa forever." But that's 
not how it was, because when you're in a 
town like Ottumwa, there doesn't seem to 
be anywhere to go, anywhere to even dream 
of going. It's like everybody you ever knew 
was still there. Or maybe they left town to 
join the service or to drive trucks, but they 
all came back. 


6. 
I was still seeing Bobby Roberts. I had told 
my parents he was 18 so they wouldn't freak 


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P L A Y B O Y 


out about the age difference. But Bobby 
already had kids and was getting divorced, 
and one day there was a notice about it in 
the paper, and my mom read it and slapped 
me so hard she knocked me over. She said 
I couldn't go out with him, but I snuck out 
to the skating rink to meet him, and then 
Kenny drove out and found us and said to 
Bobby, “You can either leave her alone or 
marry her." And I couldn't believe it when 
Bobby said, “Fine, we'll get married." 

What? I'm 14 years old and marriage had 
never crossed my mind. I wasn't pregnant 
or anything. I wasn't even sure what Bobby 
did for a living, something to do with fix- 
ing trucks—or maybe fixing something that 
fixed trucks. 

We had our blood tests and, a few weeks 
later, after my 15th birthday, drove down to 
Lancaster, Missouri to get married. It was a 
quick ceremony, just my mom, Bobby and 
me, and afterward we went across the street 
to a bar to get drunk. 

We rented a little one-bedroom apart- 
ment in Ottumwa with a Murphy bed in 
it, and my mom gave us a love seat and a 
table and chairs. The first night we were 
there Bobby went out with his friends to get 
drunk. I found a job at Mr. Quick Hamburg- 
ers and then switched over to a truck stop 
out at Southgate, short-order grilling and 
pouring coffee. The truck stop was about 12 
miles outside of town, and if Bobby didn't 
pick me up I had to walk home. One night, 
Bobby and his friends were over watching 
a Muhammad Ali fight on TV when Bobby 
walked into the kitchen and began joking 
around, shadowboxing at me. He started 
lightly punching me in the arm and slapping 
me. All of a sudden, he punched me in the 
face. I covered up and cowered against the 
wall. That was the first time he hit me. 

We were always broke. Bobby picked up 
occasional work repairing hydraulic jacks, 
but we depended on what I could make at 
the truck stop. We were getting by on maybe 
$100 a week, and most of that Bobby would 
spend drinking. I was 16, working the night 
shift, making barely enough to get by, and 
then one night an old man named Tex came 
in and offered me $50 if I would go to bed 
with him. Now, $50 was a lot of money, but 
I told him to forget it. 


SO, WHY DONT WE 
BEGIN BY DISCUSSING 


When Bobby came to pick me up, I told 
him about it and he said I should have 
taken it, because we could use the money. I 
couldn’t believe it. The next night I took the 
money and told Tex to come back when I 
ended my shift at two А.М, but Bobby picked 
me up at 11. The next night Tex came in 
shouting and saying I stole his money. The 
boss was there, and I told her I didn’t know 
what this old crazy guy was talking about. 
The manager called the police, and when 
they came I stuck to my story. 

The manager fired me anyway, saying she 
didn’t need that kind of commotion. 


7; 

It was Tom who picked me up after Bobby 
beat me up again. I had burned a pot of 
beans, and Bobby began smacking me 
around. I had already caught him in bed 
with our 12-year-old neighbor, so I was mad 
as hell for plenty of reasons. I called my mom, 
and Tom answered and said he would come 
and get me, and he did, loading my stuff into 
his car and taking me back to Mom's. 

We went to the bar that night. 

I was 16. I got my first divorce. I paid 
for it myself. 

I thought about going back to school, but 
I had dropped out in the eighth grade, and 
how could I go back to the eighth grade 
after having been married? They started me 
іп 10th grade, but I was already working 
behind the bar over at the Horseshoe Strip 
Club and drinking and partying and hang- 
ing out with all kinds of older guys, so I 
dropped out again and passed my GED. 


8. 

In Ottumwa in the late 1970s, members of 
the Grim Reaper motorcycle gang were like 
the rock stars of our town. The local chapter 
had been started by guys who had served in 
the Special Forces in Vietnam. The Reap- 
ers had long hair, wore leather and denim 
and rode Harleys; we didn't have any mafia 
in Ottumwa, but we did have the Reapers. 
'The Reapers had money, guns, drugs; they 
used to have shoot-outs in bars. 

'The president of the local chapter was a 
guy named Floyd Stockdall, a.k.a. Sin, a.k.a. 
the Big Reaper, who had also served in Viet- 
nam. He had long hair, a full beard and a 


HES SUFFERING 
EMATURE 


WHATS WRONG WITH J, F ОМ PR 


YOUR RELATIONSHIP. 


ESACULATION! 


| P 


skinny cruel face like an angry jesus. "е 
commanded respect. He could clean up a 
bar by himself. He didn't really do drugs, 
but he would sell them. He used to deal 
coke, speed and grass. But every time he 
drank whiskey, he would have flashbacks: 
His eyes would glaze over, he would get these 
migraines and he would just start whaling on 
people. Everyone knew Floyd Sin. 

And everyone was afraid of him. 

When I met him, he was selling speed pills 
out of a big old pickle jar. He'd bring them 
down from Des Moines and we'd stick them 
in a freezer behind the bar. He had Christ- 
mas trees, white crosses, black beauties, pink 
hearts. They weren't that strong; you needed 
a handful to stay up all night. I started hang- 
ing around with Floyd, and when his car 
broke down I gave him a ride up to Des 
Moines to score in this old Galaxie 500 my 
mom had bought for me. I met some of his 
other biker buddies up there. I walked into 
this house with him, and they were doing 
coke, and there was like $100,000 on the 
table, and I thought it was the most glamor- 
ous thing I'd ever seen, these bikers doing 
coke and bullshitting and all this money. 

I mean, I was 19, I had barely been out 
of Ottumwa. Nobody I knew had ever left 
Iowa except maybe to cross the border into 
Missouri. I didn't have one idea of what I 
was supposed to do with my life. My brother 
Tom had already gone off to the University 
of Iowa and was heading up to Minnesota 
to work on his stand-up comedy routine. 
He said all my boyfriends were a bunch of 
greasy bikers, and I could tell he was leav- 
ing Ottumwa behind, leaving me behind. 
You can't give Tom enough credit for doing 
what he did, for finding his voice, for pur- 
suing a dream, any dream. I mean, we 
didn't have many dreams in Ottumwa, or 
not many that lasted past waking up sober. 
My life then was blank days doing noth- 
ing, then working at the bar and partying 
all night. If you lived in Ottumwa, that was 
all there was. There didn't seem any reason 
to do much else. This city was the pit of the 
recession. Everyone was broke and looking 
for a little something to take the edge off. 
That's what the Reapers were doing, just 
providing a little diversion for folks who 
desperately needed it. 


NOT REALLY. 
ID SAY SHES 
THE ONE THATS 
SUFFERING, 
NOT МЕ! 


9. 

Floyd and I shacked up in a little tar-paper 
house on stilts by the Des Moines River. We 
got married May 17, 1980. Our honeymoon 
consisted of passing out on the couch. I got 
pregnant with Josh, and Floyd retired from 
being the president of the gang and said 
he was going to find straight work winter- 
izing people's houses. I had a hard labor, 57 
hours straight, and had to spend that time 
in a state-run hospital for pregnant women 
because we didn't have any money or insur- 
ance. Floyd drove up to the delivery room, 
but he didn't stay because he had a head- 
ache and a bad hangover. 

Floyd was collecting some unemployment 
money, and he gave me a budget of $50 a 
week for everything we needed: food, dia- 
pers, clothes. To have an extra $20 would be 
a miracle. I could get cigarettes, maybe some 
steak. But we didn't ever have it. 

Our cabin was freezing in the winter, so 
cold that even with a woodstove in the tiny 
living room you couldn't feel your feet or 
hands, and with a kerosene stove under the 
house the pipes still froze. In the spring you 
could hear the ice cracking on the river, like 
hunting-rifle shots, and then the river would 
swell up so fast you had to grab everything 
you could and run or you'd be flooded in. 

Between freezing and flooding, I was 
stuck out there, 20 miles from town, smok- 
ing dope and raising my baby boy. Floyd 
was gone, looking for work now that he 
wasn't dealing drugs anymore, and when 
he would come back, I just prayed he hadn't 
been drinking. 

One night he came back from the bar, 
walked іп the door and said, “How many 
do you want?" 

“How many what?" I asked. 

“Bullets,” he said. 

Oh no, I thought, he's drunk. 

He went into the bedroom and started 
loading a rifle. 

I'm thinking this is bad, so I grab Josh 
and go running out of the house and hide 
behind the car. I kept my head down because 
I knew he would shoot at me. 

"Come on, Floyd, don't shoot." 

And he started calling me a gook. He was 
having some kind of flashback. 

He chased me around, then shot at me, 
bullets bouncing off the car. “Oh my God,” 
I shouted, “you hit Josh." 

He hadn't, but my lie made him stop. 

'Then I ran off to our neighbors about a 
half a mile away. 

By the time the cops came, Floyd had 
calmed down and was sitting in the kitchen 
drinking coffee. 

"What's going on, Floyd?" 

He said nothing, but I had already told 
them he was shooting at me, and they hand- 
cuffed him, put him in the car and brought 
him to jail. I read in the paper that he was 
going to be charged with attempted mur- 
der, and I was like, Oh no, he's going to 
kill me now. 

When I refused to press charges they let 
him go. 


10. 
'There was this numbing sameness to our 
days, to our lives. Once in a while I would 


dare peek at the future, try to imagine life 
past the next week or month, and I couldn't 
see anything new; I could only imagine 
this cycle of being broke, of being scared, 
of never leaving, just going on forever into 
the future. And that's what happened for 
most people in Ottumwa, for most of the 
girls I went to school with, for my family— 
you were stuck there, feet trapped in the 
mud with the river rising. You felt as if you 
couldn't take a step to save yourself. What 
was the point? 


11. 

The cabin by the river was beautiful in late 
spring and summer, the fertile earth was 
green with thick grass and orange wild- 
flowers, the cornstalks were bursting up 
behind us, and you couldn’t even smell the 
chicken coops up the hill. There were boats 
on the river, and you could toss a line in 
from the shore and catch a bass or a perch. 
In the good seasons you'd forget all about 
the cold and the flood, and I could let Josh 
run around on the lawn or play by the pic- 
nic table. Even Floyd, at least during the 
day, before he’d had a few, would be smil- 
ing and happy. 

One night Floyd’s brother Mike came 
down from Brooklyn, Iowa and we were hav- 
ing a few beers inside the cabin, and he asked, 
"Say, have you ever tried crystal meth?" 

I thought he was talking about a type of 
speed tablet that was always around, but 
he pulled out a little glassine envelope of 
powder and chopped it up, and about 10 
minutes later I was like, “Woooooh.” All ofa 
sudden the doldrums were gone. The neigh- 
bors came over and had some, and a few 
minutes later we were all cleaning out our 
yard, then cleaning out their yard. 

Mike gave me a gram and showed me 
how to cut envelopes out of glossy maga- 
zines to make little quarter-gram bundles. 
He said, "If you go down to the bar, have a 
beer or whatever; just see if anyone wants 
any of this." 

'There may have been Ottumwans who 
had tried crystal before, just as I'm sure 
there were Iowans who'd had it. But when 
I went down to Union Station Bar, it was 
pretty dead before I began giving out lines, 
and it was obvious no one there had ever 
tried it before, because within a few min- 
utes everyone in the place was drinking and 
dancing and singing along to a Judas Priest 
song on the jukebox. It was the best time any 
of us had had in a long time. I sold every- 
thing in 15 minutes and made $75—it had 
been months since I'd had any spending 
money—and I made the whole town a hap- 
pier place. That's how I saw it. 

'The next day I called Mike, and he 
brought us down two eight balls, three and 
a half grams each, and I went back down to 
Union Station Bar and sold all of that within 
a few minutes. It was pretty obvious this stuff 
was easy to sell. Everyone wanted more of 
it. I liked having a little bit of money in my 
pocket, and it got me out of the house and 
away from Floyd. 

Bu a week I was making $200 to $300 
ht, selling an eight ball and then a quar- 


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138 


running down here every other day, and he 
said the guy he was scoring from had heard 
of the legendary Floyd and wouldn't mind 
coming down and meeting him in person. 

Steve J. pulled up to our shabby-ass cabin 
in a white Corvette. I walked out on the 
porch. ^Hey, nice car!" 

Steve nodded, looked me over, tossed up 
the keys and said, ^Here, it's yours." 

He handed me a quarter pound of meth. 
"Pay me when you get the money, honey." 

I was able to whack up a quarter pound 
in a weekend. People in Ottumwa needed 
something—anything—and crystal meth was 
it. I was paying about $1,000 for an ounce 
and could turn that over for $2,800. Four 
ounces in a quarter pound meant more than 
$7,000 profit in a weekend. That was just 
the beginning. 


12. 
It turned out living in a cabin in the middle 
of nowhere had its advantages, as no one 
paid any attention to how many cars were 


"Whadya say I donate an 


a tidy thre 


coming and going up our little dirt road. 
And being Floyd's old lady was a blessing. 
You didn't want to mess with the Big Reaper, 
and everybody assumed he was behind this 
business. The truth was, he had a terrible 
head for figures and didn't like crystal meth 
himself. It had a strange effect on him; it 
slowed him down instead of speeding him 
up. Like those kids today with attention defi- 
cit disorder they give Ritalin to, Floyd would 
do a line and just stand there, frozen in a 
spot, staring straight ahead. He hated the 
way it slowed him down. But just his name 
ensured that I was getting paid and supplied 
and that no one ever fucked with us. 

If anyone was slow in paying or tried to 
short us on a deal, all I had to say was ^Well, 
let me talk to Floyd about that." 

And then they would be all, “Хо, no, don't 
tell Floyd," and they'd come up with the 
money or the drugs somehow. 

'There were people coming to the house 
all day and night, wanting grams, quarter 
grams. I was getting so busy I realized I 


"WottdMags 


needed to cut out the retau апа век су 
ounces, or maybe quarter ounces, to a few 
friends so I could deal only quarter pounds 
and pounds. I set up a few friends—girls I 
knew from the bars, some of Floyd's biker 
buddies—with ounces so they could sell 
smaller amounts. I had bartenders working 
in town who could sell grams, guys work- 
ing out at some of the foundries, even other 
moms at school. But our place still became 
a regular party place, with people there 
all hours, and I loved being the center of 
attention. What was great was, if Floyd had 
enough money he was happy to stay fishing 
on the river or working on one of his new 
cars. I was snorting every day and awake all 
the time, which suited my disposition. With 
crystal meth I could be up all night partying 
and still fix Josh breakfast and drive him to 
school. On the way there people would see 
my Corvette and flag me down. One day 
Josh asked me, "Mama, how come we're sell- 
ing bags of tea?" I had to laugh and tell him, 
"Because everyone seems to love tea." 


13. 

I was starting to hold a lot of cash, $10,000 to 
$30,000 at a time, and had to hide it behind 
the wallboard in the bedroom while I waited 
for Steve to come back with more supply. 

Steve was bringing down pounds, but I 
was going through that in a weekend selling 
through my network, and they were branch- 
ing out into neighboring towns, and he 
couldn't keep up with the demand. He had 
to go back and forth to California to get it, so 
I asked him if he would hook us up with his 
connection out there. Through the Reapers, 
Floyd was also able to find another connec- 
tion in Arizona, a fellow named Jose who 
had his own labs. I decided I would send 
Floyd out there in our new Ford Thunder- 
bird to see if we could secure more quantity. 
He drove out to Chula Vista, by San Diego, 
and came back with five pounds of some of 
the best meth we had ever had. His next trip 
was to Arizona, and the quality was just as 
good. The problem was always supply. The 
demand was steady, like a current you could 
feel. The whole town was tweaking, and I 
could move two pounds a week. 


14. 

Гтп always having to explain how, during 
the 1980s, meth was higher quality than the 
stuff that later wiped out American towns. 
The cooks back then could secure genu- 
ine phenyl-2-propanone, a chemical that 
reduced to pure methamphetamine. P2P, as 
it was called, was eventually made a Schedule 
II controlled substance, but it was around in 
quantity and allowed for large-scale cooking 
of high-quality, purer meth. This was the 
good stuff. These days the meth made by 
cooking down ephedrine, a chemical from 
cold tablets, is a dirty, low-yield product and 
very poisonous. Cookers can manufacture 
maybe four pounds of low-grade stuff if they 
don't purify it, which nobody does. But it's 
cheap and you don't need drums of P2P, 
which nobody can get anymore. 

Тһе kids today are snorting and smok- 
ing a nastier drug than we were using back 
then. I'm not making excuses for what I did 
or sold; I'm just stating a fact. 


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15. 
We paid $10,000 per pound. I could turn 
a pound for $42,000. I had so much cash 
I started burying it out behind the house 
at night. 


16. 
I bought the Union Station Bar so we 
could put some of our cash into a legiti- 
mate business. 

We remodeled the place. There was wood 
paneling on the walls, two pillars down the 
middle, a long, varnished maple bar, a pool 
table, shuffleboard, darts, video games and 
a little bandstand where groups played on 
the weekends. The place looked great when 
we opened in 1987, and because of the traf- 
fic my drug business brought in, it was an 
instant success. I renamed it the Wild Side. 


17. 
We had a code set up: You call me and say, 
“You want to go out for pizza?” 

And I would say, “What time?” 

“Two o'clock." That meant two pounds. 

“Are you going to wash your car today?” 
you would ask. 

“At four o'clock." 

So we would meet at the car wash at 
four o'clock, and while we were having our 
cars washed I would sell you two pounds 
of meth. 


18. 


'Tom would occasionally come down with 
his buddies from Minnesota. He was doing 
stand-up comedy there on the weekends, to 
earn money for college. They would come 
down to the Wild Side once in a while, and I 
would hook them up with a little meth. But 
for Tom, back then, it was more recreational. 
He was more ofa cokehead anyway. But one 
weekend up in Minnesota he entered a con- 
test, and whoever won got to introduce this 
famous comic, Roseanne Barr. Tom won, 
did his routine and introduced her, and she 
really liked what she heard and asked him to 
come write for her. She was married to her 
first husband; she already had kids, and she 
was doing The Tonight Show and Late Night 
With David Letterman. 1 remember the first 
time he brought her down to Ottumwa, she 
fit right in. She'd grown up with very little, 
just like us. I could tell she was more than 
just a friend of Tom's. 


19. 

We were sending runners out every other 
week to pick up a few pounds at a time. If 
we used the same car every trip, that would 
start to arouse suspicion. We needed a wider 
range of vehicles, and at that point I was 
looking for another legitimate business, so 
I bought a used-car lot. That way Floyd or 
another of the drivers could always take a 
different, clean vehicle out West. 

Then I saw a ranch advertised іп the paper. 
I went out and decided I wanted it. Rolling 
Hills Ranch was made for horses, and Floyd 
loved horses. I figured if we had horses then 
Floyd would be happy. I bought the place: 
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P L A Y B O Y 


We built a barn and stables, space for 
50, 60 horses, and then we began going 
to horse auctions. Floyd bought a few rid- 
ing horses, no big deal, but then we met a 
fellow who had a quarter horse for sale, a 
beautiful brown mare named Iris Crimson 
Mooner. When we bought it the owner told 
us he had already paid the dues to run a 
stakes race down in Prairie Meadows that 
week. Our first quarter horse, and it wins! 
We were hooked. Floyd began looking for 
horses all over the Midwest, and he began 
buying all kinds of quarter horses. Lady of 
Intent, Mack Everett, Iris Blue Missy, they 
all won stakes races. 


20. 

Our horses won enough stakes races so 
it looked like a legitimate business. The 
only problem with laundering drug money 
through a horse-racing operation is that 
if you're not careful, it will eat up every 
meth dollar you make. We were going 
through at least $100,000 a month on 
the horses. 

I began spending my nights doing the 
paperwork. Every receipt had to be logged 
and marked, and I tried to account for every 


dollar. The car lot, the bar, the horse oper- 
ation, all the vehicles and the boats, the 
horses—I was making sure every penny 
of it looked legit. I began buying houses, 
little rental houses all over town. I would 
buy them on time, then rent them out to 
friends who were eligible for Section 8 
money from the government. The checks 
were sent directly to me. It was a great busi- 
ness, profitable and a way to hide plenty of 
cash because of all the expenses you could 
put against the houses. I eventually owned 
18 properties around town. And every year 
I made sure I paid the IRS its piece. I knew 
that was the easiest way to get popped, so I 
kept the books clean. 

No matter how loaded I was or how many 
nights Га stayed awake, I always made Josh 
breakfast, got him to school and was there 
waiting for him when the bus stopped down 
the road. Sometimes I would have to race 
past the school bus on the way out of town 
in my Jaguar to get there, but I would 
always make it. 

We were going through three to five 
pounds a week, and Floyd was busy with 
the horses. Even if he did a West Coast 
run every week, which was impossible, we 


in ‚пе! 
140 "What can I tell you? A big dick сап б Ў.О Ма $ 


still wouldn't have enough supply. 115228 
too taxing for us. All the legitimate busi- 
nesses were starting to eat up so much 
cash that I could send out only $200,000 
at a time. A nuclear power plant was going 
up outside of town, and the Pioneer Seed 
Company built a factory, and more than a 
few of these guys were doing double shifts 
on my stuff, then staying out and party- 
ing all night. 

There was always demand, always. By 
now our dealers had buddies in Nebraska, 
Minnesota and Missouri. 

I needed more than 10 pounds a month. 


21. 

We flew а chemist out to Iowa. He told us 
what lab equipment and chemicals to order, 
and we had them shipped to us at the car lot. 
It cost me $50,000, all of it ordered through 
pharmaceutical catalogs. This guy didn't 
even do meth. The only time he would do it 
was after he cooked a batch, when he would 
shoot up to make sure it wouldn't kill you. 
It was like his seal of approval. We had him 
cook us a test batch. 

One line and I knew he was our chemist. 


22. 

Floyd bulldozed a furrow out in the back 
40, and we hauled a camper up there and 
basically buried it and then laid camouflage 
netting on top. We thought it was invisible. 
'The whole lab was in there—the glassware, 
the big self-enclosed computerized cooker 
with dials all over it, the tubes and charcoal 
filters. The chemist would be out there for 
three days at a time, day and night, sleeping 
on the ground next to the lab. That's how 
long it took to cook a batch. We could do 
20 pounds a month now, and the cost was 
down to $2,000 a pound. 

A good month would mean we moved 
that 20 pounds; at about $42,000 a pound 
that meant during our best months we were 
netting $800,000. Our meth was so good 
and pure that pretty soon we had the guys 
from California coming to us. 


23. 

Tom by then was working on Roseanne and 
was even a character on the show. They were 
an item already, no matter what he might 
have thought about her looks. (I told him 
that for $50 million, or whatever she's worth, 
I'd fuck her.) She was trying to get pregnant, 
and they didn't know Tom had a low sperm 
count. So Roseanne would hop down to Iowa 
City to get her in vitro treatments. 

Тһеу had a yacht out in Rathbun, and 
they began buying up a lot of property. We 
even took a flight in Roseanne's private jet. 
'Tom knew I was dealing—hell, how could 
he not? But by then he was already doing 
a lot of coke himself, so he wasn't in a posi- 
tion to lecture me. 

Look at how crazy his life was: engaged 
to Roseanne, doing too much blow, making 
millions. Just crazy in a different way than 
mine. We're both, somehow, like our mom. 
Talkative, fun-loving people who can't shut 
off our brains or our mouths. 


24. 


I kept the little cabin by the river. I went out 
there once in a while and walked around. I 


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142 


thought about that river rising, how fright- 
ened I had been, how fast the water came 
up while I was holding my baby and how 
I would be frightened my feet would stick 
there, held fast by the mud. How I had wor- 
ried I would never get away. 

I'd left the place exactly as it was. Josh's 
baby pictures on the wall, the old dishes in 
the cabinets, the empty beer cans piled in a 
pyramid. I would go back there and remem- 
ber how it was. 

One day I drove back there and saw a 
smoldering black pile. It had burned to 
the ground. 


25. 

By 1990 we couldn't find any more drums 
of P2P. That meant we couldn't make any 
more of the good stuff. The problem was 
nationwide; even our old connections in 
California and Arizona were no longer able 
to produce high-grade meth. This was when 
the next wave of the epidemic really began 
sweeping America—low-grade, low-priced 
speed that strings you out. 

I wish I could say I never touched the 
low-quality stuff, never sold it. But when 
that was all we could get, we had no choice. 
It made you spacey, and for the first time I 


"Whoa! Hold on there, sp 


felt I was hooked on it instead of just enjoy- 
ing a good long buzz. This was the stuff 
that made you pick at your skin, left peo- 
ple walking around with sores and blisters. 
Everyone was paranoid and getting suspi- 
cious of one another. A few years of staying 
awake all the time will do that to you. Peo- 
ple started getting tweaky. You could drive 
all over southeastern Iowa and there were 
always people up partying. 

I would go over to my friend Donna's 
house, and I would be like, “You see that 
helicopter?" 

Donna would nod. “Hell yeah, I'm seeing 
them all the time." 

I would think, Damn, there are helicop- 
ters flying around all the time. 

I was doing an eight ball a day. We were 
used to walking around in the flow, feeling 
good for so long, and then this. Okay, maybe 
it was a slow leak, like a steady leak. But then, 
with the bad stuff, it turned into a blowout. 

But I still needed to sell. We had to keep 
finding pounds, even pounds of low quality, 
just to keep the ranch and the horses and 
all the businesses going. I met a Mexican 
named Juan who was sweet on me. Floyd 
was never home, always out at the tracks. 
He didn’t notice we were running out of 


body белт ойнама 4 5 


meth, and if we ran out of шеш we wo U 
run out of money. I knew Juan had the hots 
for me, and I would use that to get him 
to drive up with a pound or two of meth. 
But it was getting harder and harder to 
get any quality stuff, so sometimes we just 
had to buy, sell and do the low-grade nose- 
burning stuff. 

Those strange vehicles following me? Those 
helicopters? That's the kind of shit you imag- 
ine when you're on the low grade, right? 


26. 
I was on Bluegrass Road bringing a few 
ounces to town in the black truck when I 
saw two dozen highway patrol vehicles— 
unmarked cars with huge antennas out the 
back—and vans and trucks all speeding down 
the highway in the opposite direction. 

I called Floyd and told him I'd seen a con- 
voy of cops pass by and to be on the lookout. 

Тһе feds surrounded the place. They 
came up the roads; they even came over 
the hills. Floyd said there were about 60 
of them. They kept Floyd and all the guys 
who worked for us locked up all day while 
they tore the place apart. They ripped up 
that nice furniture and tore it apart, just 
destroyed our house and the ranch. They 
found a pound and a half of meth, a pound 
of pot we had forgotten about, 44 guns and 
about $23,000 in cash. 

I had been hiding out in town all day as 
soon as I heard we were getting busted. And 
we weren't the only ones. They were hitting 
all our friends. They had been following us 
for over a year and knew everyone in our 
little network. 

When I called home that night, Floyd 
answered. 

“They left." 

"What?" I asked. 

“They took the dope and the guns and 
the cash and took off." 

"Without arresting anyone?" 

"Nope." 

"What the hell?" 

I called my brother Tom, and he recom- 
mended a good lawyer. 

Plenty of people we knew had been 
arrested by local cops. Nobody had dealt 
with the feds. The lawyer told me what 
they were doing was gathering material 
for an indictment. 

I figured I had kept my books clean, 
that all my businesses looked legit, so they 
couldn't get me for dealing. My lawyer 
called the DEA and told them I was willing 
to turn myself in. They said they weren't 
interested. I began thinking, Hell, maybe 
they don't have anything on us. Maybe 
we're in the clear. 

I knew I was lying to myself. I never 
stopped dealing or using. I kept telling 
myself, One more deal. 


21. 

Pretty soon all our friends were getting 
busted or getting subpoenaed to appear 
before a federal grand jury. They were all 
asking what to do. If they lied on the stand, 
they'd get five years. I called my lawyer and 
asked what to do. He said there was noth- 
ing I could do. 

I know what badass drug dealers are sup- 
posed to do in this situation: Kill everyone 


DID VOU 


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AJ GETS RACY AT 

THE BRICKYARD 
We're glad the NFL season 
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watch NASCAR. The Indi- 
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compelling ambassador for 
a sport we thought was all 
crashes and left turns. The 
daughter of a go-kart track 
owner, AJ grew up a drive 
away from the Indianapolis 
Motor Speedway, the 
Brickyard. This year she 
was slated once again to 
host the Brickyard Beach 
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à at which she and Indiana 


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form the Brickyard 400% 

Turn 3 into a shore party 
replete with sand, pools, 
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eyes on the road. 


P L A Y B O Y 


144 


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Р. 96 EXCERPT FROM THE EXEGESIS OF PHILIP 
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who might snitch. Well, I guess I’m not a 
badass drug dealer. 

Besides, what do you do when they sub- 
poena 106 people? You can’t kill them all. 


28 


I didn’t sleep much. I felt like I hadn’t slept 
in a month. But one night, just before dawn, 
I fell into a delicious, deep sleep. I had been 
up so long I finally crashed. 

I woke up with a gun to my forehead. I 
looked over and Floyd was on the floor, and 
there were half a dozen cops sitting on him 
and cuffing him. 

“What do you want?” I asked. I was so 
tired, I just wanted to go back to sleep. 

This guy was literally sitting on me. I 
look up; he was skinny with thinning brown 
hair, a mustache. “You know damn well 
what I want.” 

I’m not wearing anything but my under- 
wear. The cop climbs off of me and hands me 
a tracksuit lying on the floor. I get dressed 
in front of two dozen cops, all wearing dif- 
ferent jackets: FBI, ATF, DEA. 

“Damn, all those letters,” I said. “Where’s 
AC/DC?” 

“Here,” one of the cops hands me my 
glasses. 

I shake my head. “Don’t need those to see 
where I’m going.” 


29. 
When they were leading me downstairs, I 
heard some of the cops shouting that some- 
one was making a run for it. I knew it was 
my son, Josh. 

“No, no!” I began shouting. I thought 
they were going to shoot my boy. 

They had arrested 11 of us. They thought 
Floyd was the big fish. When they realized 
Floyd didn’t know much, they tried to get me 
to somehow implicate my brother. Tom was 
never involved in the meth. They ended up 
charging me with continuing a criminal enter- 
prise, two counts of money laundering, illegal 
possession of firearms, two counts of manu- 
facturing, distribution and possession. 

I didn’t have a criminal record. Га heard 
of friends who had gotten arrested, even with 
a pound of meth, and they would get a year. I 
figured Га get a year, a year and а half. 

Then my lawyer told me they were asking 
for life. “And with the feds, when they say life 
they mean you won't get out until you die.” 

They were holding me in the Story 
County jail. 

I remember when Josh first visited me, I 
told him I'd be out soon. 


30. 


'Tom and Roseanne came to town. Tom 
was trying to get clean by then. Roseanne 
had said she wouldn't marry him unless 
he stopped doing coke. He was actually 
straightening out his life and would become 
famous as a guy who helped other people in 
Hollywood get sober and stay clean. 

Тһеу put up $400,000 cash for my bail. 
I was thinking, Finally, after a few weeks, 
I'm going to get out. But they took me 
back to the county jail. The FBI said they 
Һа оппа a hit list back at the ranch, DEA 


garage had collectea so we соша Keep uk 
of them. But I was deemed a threat and 
denied bail. 

'The feds wanted to make a case against 
Tom and Roseanne. They kept saying 
Tommy was involved, even showed photos 
of me on Roseanne's jet with her two Cuban 
pilots standing there, as if this was all part 
of some big drug conspiracy. 

Тһеге was nothing there. 

'The last time I saw Floyd was when they 
let us out into the basketball court at county 
jail. The guys could open their windows 
and yell at us. I felt sorrier for Floyd than 
I did for myself. When you see somebody 
who was that big in everybody's eyes con- 
fined to a box. 

My lawyer told me if I pleaded guilty I 
would do 25 years. They read off my charges 
at the federal courthouse in Des Moines. 
After each one, I said, “Guilty.” 


31. 


I called my son and told him I'd gotten 
25 years. 
He hung up on me. 


32. 
I did a total of 16 years in prison. 


33. 


I like the heat of Phoenix. It feels like a fresh 
start. I’m not supposed to drink or take any 
drugs. So far, I’ve been good. I’ve had a beer 
or two, but I’ve been keeping clean. And I'm 
a good worker, the best at my firm. It turns 
out I’m almost as good at selling people on 
starting their own online businesses as I was 
at slinging meth. I’m the top seller almost 
every week. 

I’ve known my husband, John, since we 
were kids. He’d always liked me, and when 
I got out of prison this last time, then trans- 
ferred to a halfway house in Arizona, he 
called me and asked if I wanted a ride on 
his Harley. He was driving long-haul trucks 
back then, and he had a job out here. I’ve 
always liked bikes. 

He’s a good influence—quiet, steady, and 
he was never into the meth. 

Floyd died at Leavenworth in 2004. I 
never saw him again. 

My son, Josh, still lives in Ottumwa. He’s 
getting his teaching certificate and plans to 
be a basketball coach. We talk all the time 
and share everything. Tom and Roseanne 
were a huge help when I was in prison. 
They paid for Josh to go to military school 
and looked after him. Big bro came through 
for me again. 

I talk to Tom all the time. He’s also stayed 
clean. He visited me in Alderson Federal 
Prison a few years back and gave a little talk 
to all the girls about staying off drugs. 

I remember when this book Methland 
came out, about the meth epidemic and my 
part in it. Tom was doing stand-up, and he 
thought he would read some of the book 
and riff about us and what I had been up 
to. But as he read it, he said, “Damn it, this 
sounds more like Lori saved the economy 
of Iowa instead of ruining it.” 

I remember Tom telling me that and 
thinking, Yeah, but I didn’t save myself. 


Ea yaya EA Haid kuni TAN PR RR I тұтына WorldMags 


CALENDAR 


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are so busy that it makes it hard 
to share conversations, hugs, 
kisses and love with them," the 
former Miss Brazil says. Sub- 
sequently, Sasckya really took 
to life in the South. *In Nash- 
ville people are very warm," 
she says. *The guys joke 
and the girls laugh a lot—it's 
a good time." Sasckya also 
lent her charm and amaz- 
ing body to photo shoots for 
Obsessive's sexy lingerie line, 
and she plays a woman enam- 
oured of a sharp-dressed man 
in a television commercial 
for American clothier Todd 
Shelton. “I’m blessed with 
what I’ve accomplished, 
and I don't take it for 
granted,” she says. “I’m 
fortunate to have my 
looks because I’ve built 

my life with them.” 


MISS DECEMBER 1966 ON MISS DECEMBER 1953 


Next year marks the 50th anniversary of the passing of America’s biggest sex 
symbol, Miss December 1953 Marilyn Monroe. To honor her legacy, Miss 
December 1966 Susan Bernard is publishing Marilyn: Intimate Expo- 


DID VOU 
KNOW 


sures, a lush book 
that chronicles the 
making of our 
brightest star. “I 
wanted to celebrate 
her life and etch out 
the mythology of 
Marilyn in the nar- 
rative,” Susan says. 
She uses photo- 
graphs and journal 
entries from her 
father, Bruno—the 
renowned Bernard of 
Hollywood—into 
whose studio walked 
a girl named Norma 
Jeane in 1946. Jane 
Russell and Lindsay 
Lohan also give their 
thoughts in forewords. 
“We keep looking for 
another Marilyn Mon- 
roe,” Susan says, “but 
we'll never see апу- 
thing like her again.” 


As of press time PMOY 1993 Anna Nicole 
Smith's former Los Angeles 15160 
on the market for $1.75 million, 


SASCKYA PORTO IS BOTH PRETTY AND PROLIFIC 


Miss December 2007 Sasckya Porto has been everywhere recently, including a Tennessee field for country 
star Jacob Lyda’s music video “I’m Doing Alright.” “God knows I love New York, but the people there 


Miss November 1974 Bebe Buell, a 
N тот, afè benny 


Obsessive lingerie campaign. 


FLASHBACH 


Five years ago this month 
Miss October 2006 
Jordan Monroe—related 
to Marilyn only through 
the Playmate sorority— 
went from Cornhusker 
to Centerfold. When her 
issue hit newsstands, the 
University of Nebraska 
junior gave an interview 
to student newspaper The 
Daily Nebraskan, in which 
she was asked, “In five 
years do you see yourself 
as a real estate agent or a 
model?” Jordan replied, “I 
actually want to do both.” 
Since then, she’s gotten a 
new smoldering look as a 
blonde and accomplished 
” what she set her sights on. 


e 
Want to SEE MORE РІ АҮМАТЕ5--ог more 
of these Playmates? You can check out the 
Club at club.playboy.com and access the mobile- 
optimized site playboy.com from your phone. 


In Sirius XM's Fantasy Football Draft, past 
champ Miss August 2004 Pilar Lastra 
chose Andre Johnson for her first pick. 


DID VOU 


What are PMOY 2007 and 
actor Jayson Blair doing at Charlie Sheen's event 
at Chateau Nightclub & 
Gardens at the Paris Las 
. Vegas? Duh, winning! 
Vl We'll give credit where 
" credit is due—Mr. Sheen k 
can make a saccharine 
i sitcom successful, hurl 
<“ VE 
Em one hell of a party. Sara 


I = І А Jean lived it up prior to 
7 , unleashing her cosplay 
Р К; outfits on the crowd ай 
| ` San Diego's Comic-Con 
- International. In the 
days leading up to the 
convention, she flaunted her Padmé Amidala (Natalie 
Portman's character in Star Wars: Episode II—Attack 
of the Clones) outfit on G4’s The Feed and also broad- 
cast from the event dressed as her own creation, 
Bustice.... At a different convention with a similar 
crowd, PMOY 2011 and boyfriend Mar- 
А ston Hefner walked the red carpet 
atthe E3 (Electronic Entertainment 
Expo) launch at Suede in Los Ange- 
les. Claire tweeted a photo from 
the event with a caption stating 
she was with "the biggest gamer 
I know." We're guessing it wasn't 
just a reference to the Uno games 
Marston plays at the Mansion. It's 
good to see a new generation of Hefner exhibiting a 
passion for recreation... If you like your 
rum on the rocks with a Playmate kiss, 
you should have been at Marquee Night- 
club at the Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas on 
June 15. PMOY 2009 wore 
her Bunny costume to Bacardi's Like It 
Live party, which drew such celebs as / 
Cee Lo Green, Blink-182's Travis Barker BP y> 
and the Beastie Boys' Mix Master Mike.... This year 
cities all over the globe got the opportunity to expe- 
rience Hef's Midsummer Night's Dream Party. Here's 
a postcard of PMOY 2006 Miss July 
2010 Miss July 2002 
and Miss January 2001 
sent from Lima, Peru. 


т ~ 
" 


afieva 
judged a Ukrainian bea an 
sponsored by AnastasiaDate. т 


KNOW = 


a fastball and throw = 


Dating advice from 
Miss January 
1994 

“A guy 

came up to 

à me at Tar- 

ЖЕ get, said I 

& looked nice 

and asked 

à me out. I 

™ love the 

straight- 

forward- 

ness! I'm 

married, 

so I had 

to decline. - 
But hey, +. 

even though 

he wasn't all 

that cute, his 

attitude totally 

would have won 
me over.” 


JESS.A: TOSH ON A WIRE 
Daniel Tosh recently enlisted the help of 
Miss July 2011 Jessa Hinton for a skit 
on his Comedy Central show Tosb.0. 
The comedian attempts to wow Jessa 
with his bedroom prowess by using a 
“sex zip line” to propel himself toward 
her. Not surprisingly, he experiences 
some technical difficulties on his way 
to the intended target. Hint: It's not the 
zip line that malfunctions. 


Kiss frontman Gene Simmons proposed 
to his lopgtimge.Jover РМОҮ1982 Shannon 


Uae Tie Fal eget rom Jewels. 


2, 


ر 


M A^ 
— r2! 


» 


AJ GETS RACY AT 

THE BRICKYARD 
We're glad the NFL season 
is a go, but Miss May 2008 
АТ Alexander insists we 
watch NASCAR. The Indi- 
ana native makes a 
compelling ambassador for 
a sport we thought was all 
crashes and left turns. The 
daughter of a go-kart track 
owner, AJ grew up a drive 
away from the Indianapolis 
Motor Speedway, the 
Brickyard. This year she 
was slated once again to 
host the Brickyard Beach 
Bash, an annual July event 
à at which she and Indiana 


, station RadioNOW trans- 


form the Brickyard 400% 

Turn 3 into a shore party 
replete with sand, pools, 
beer, a DJ and a bikini con- 
test. Of course, we can’t 
help but worry that her 
presence makes it difficult 
for drivers to keep their 
eyes on the road. 


WorldMags 


PLAYBOY FORUM 
THE PRICE IS NOT RIGHT 


THE 0:5. SPENDS TOO MUCH MONEY TO FIGHT TERRORISM 


BY JOHN MUELLER AND MARK G. STEWART 


posed to evaluate the effectiveness of the increase 
in homeland security expenditures since 9/11. It 

is, however, the wrong question to ask. Of course we are 
“safer”—posting a single security guard at one building 
enhances safety, however microscopically. 

The correct question is “Are we spending wisely?” At pres- 
ent rates, the average American's chance of being killed 
by a terrorist is about one in 3.5 million per year. How 
much more should we pay to make that even lower? 
We have already paid a lot. Leaving out interna- 
tional expenditures such as those attending the 
terrorism-related (or terrorism-determined) wars 
in Iraq and Afghanistan, the increase in spending 
on domestic 
homeland 
security 
over the 
past decade 
exceeds 
$1 trillion. 

But the 


А ге we safer?" This has been the common question 


money 
we've spent 
isn't the 
problem— 
though 


it's trou- 

blesome. 

'The prob- 

lem is that 

we've spent 

$1 trillion 

without 

subject- 

ing it to 

standard 

cost-benefit 

methods 

routinely 

applied to 

other haz- 

ards such as earthquakes and hurricanes. If anything, the 

Department of Homeland Security has gone out of its way 

to ignore calls to conduct risk assessments. For instance, in 

2010, the Government Accountability Office declared that 

it would be "important" for Homeland Security to conduct 

a cost-benefit analysis of full-body scanners at airports, yet 

to date no such study appears to have been conducted. 
GAO also requested that Homeland Security conduct a 

full cost-benefit analysis of the expensive process of scan- 

ning every U.S.-bound shipping container. To do so would 

require the dedicated work of a few skilled analysts for 

up to a year. But Homeland Security replied that while it 

agreed that such a study would help "framesthe discussion 


to better inform Congress," to carry it out ^would place 
significant burdens on agency resources." 

In general, Homeland Security's risk assessment seems to 
be a process of identifying a potential source of harm and then 
trying to do something about it without evaluating whether 
the new measures reduce risk sufficiently to justify their costs. 
Or as one analyst puts it, "Security trumps economics." One 

might darkly suspect this is the case because if the costs 
of protection from unlikely threats were sensibly cal- 
culated following standard procedures, it would be 
revealed that vast amounts of money have been 
misspent. То wit: Using the same risk and cost- 
effectiveness analyses Homeland Security applies 
to dealing with and planning for natural disasters, 
we found 
that to be 
deemed 
cost-effec- 
tive the 
increased 
expendi- 
tures on 
security 
measures 
since 9/11 
would have 
to deter, foil 
or prevent 
up to 1,667 
otherwise 
success- 
ful attacks 
per year 
roughly 
like the one 
attempted 
in Times 
Square in 
2010. That's 
more than 
four attacks 
per day. 

'To be fair, politicians and bureaucrats do face con- 
siderable political pressure on the terrorism issue. The 
public has difficulty with probabilities when emotions are 
involved; it also has a tendency to become preoccupied with 
low-probability, high-consequence events—e.g., the detona- 
tion of a sizable nuclear device in midtown Manhattan. But 
that doesn’t relieve elected and appointed officials of their 
duty to make decisions about spending large quantities of 
public moneys in a responsible manner. Nor does it relieve 
them of their responsibility to inform the public honestly 
about the rather limited risk that terrorism presents. 

By our count, New York City mayor Michael Bloomberg 
is the only politician to openly put the threat presented 


WorldMags 


FORUM 


by terrorism into context. In 2007 he pointed out that an 
individual has a greater chance of being hit by lightning 
than of being killed by a terrorist. “There are a lot of 
threats to you in the world,” he said. “You can't sit there 
and worry about everything. Get a life.” It’s worth noting 
that the political backlash to his outburst was nonexis- 
tent; in fact, two years later, he won a third term as mayor. 
It's also worth noting that the United Kingdom spends 
half as much as the United States on homeland security— 
proportionately at least. The same goes for Canada and 
Australia. Yet politicians and bureaucrats there don't seem 
to suffer threats to their positions because of it. 

Moreover, though domestic political pressures may force 
actions and expenditures that are unwise, they usually don't 
precisely dictate the level of action and expenditure. And 
so while the public demands something be done about 
terrorism, nothing in that demand specifically requires 
removing shoes in airport security lines, requiring passports 

EE to enter Can- 

г ada or turning 

a large number 
of buildings 
into fortresses. 

Further, 
history dem- 
onstrates that 
overreaction to 
terrorism isn't 
required— 
- Ç a particularly 
` | "m salient lesson 
because by far 
the most cost- 
effective counterterrorism measure is to avoid overreacting. 
Consider the two instances of terrorism that killed the most 
Americans pre-9/11: the 1983 suicide bombing in Lebanon 
that took the lives of 241 marines and the December 1988 
bombing of a Pan Am airliner over Lockerbie, Scotland in 
which 189 Americans perished. President Ronald Reagan 
responded to the Lebanon bombing by bringing home 
the remaining American troops there and making a few 
speeches. The official response to the Pan Am bombing, 
beyond seeking compensation for the victims, was to apply 
meticulous police work in an effort to apprehend the per- 
petrators—a cautious, even laid-back approach that proved 
to be perfectly acceptable politically. For the most part, 
dedicated police work also defined the responses to the 
1993 bombing of the World Trade Center, the 2001 anthrax 
attacks and the 2005 London Underground bombing. 

In the end, all our counterterrorism strategies should fol- 
low such calm, methodical and, yes, cost-effective actions. 
Because when we give in to fear and spend resources irra- 
tionally on regulations that save lives at a high cost, we 
forgo the opportunity to spend those same resources on 
regulations and processes that can save more lives at an 
equal—or lower—cost. So let's take some of that irrational 
counterterrorism funding and reinvest it in a wide range of 
more cost-effective risk-reduction programs such as flood 
protection, vaccination and vehicle and road safety that 
would result in far more significant benefits to society. 


An airport fingerprint scanner. 


John Mueller, a political science professor at Ohio State Uni- 
versity, and Mark G. Stewart, a civil engineering professor at 
the University of Newcastle in Australia, are authors of Terror, 
Security and Money: Balancing the Risks, Benefits and Costs 
of Homeland Security. 


BY JOHN PETKOVIC 


politicians can't agree on anything. These phrases accom- 

pany any and all political debate in Washington, D.C. 
We heard them endlessly during last summer’s debt-ceiling 
deal. But there’s no disagreement when it comes to one part 
of our federal budget: military spending. A quarter of every 
dollar Washington spends goes to defense. Such spending has 
increased without interruption since 1998. In 13 years the Pen- 
tagon’s budget has more than doubled. From 2001 to 2009 it 
increased 70 percent, from $412 billion to $699 billion. 

When people talk about Washington being out of control, 
they shouldn't talk about taxpayer dollars being allocated 
to most domestic programs. Transportation represents just 
two percent of our total federal budget; education only three 
percent. Even welfare—that béte noire of the budget hounds— 
amounts to roughly half of what we spend on defense. 

We spend five times more on defense than any other coun- 
try. The runner-up, China, spends $119 billion annually. The 
Chinese economy bears far less of a burden when it comes to 
military spending—2.1 percent of its gross domestic product 
compared with 4.8 percent for the United States. 

Our Cold War nemesis spends $58.7 billion annually on 
military. That’s less than a tenth of what we pony up. But our 
13-year run of increases trumps any period when the U.S. was 
defending itself against the Soviet Union and the Chinese. 

In 1961, in the middle of the Cold War, President Dwight 
Eisenhower warned of the military-industrial complex: the mon- 
etary relationships between Congress, the military and companies 
that benefit from making weapons. Lobbying by those companies 
is part of getting business done; the defense industry is armed 
with one of the most powerful lobbies in Washington. The sector 
has 1,050 lobby- 
ists representing 
nearly 375 cli- 
ents, according 
to the Center 
for Responsive 
Politics. In 2010 
alone, defense 
lobbyists spent 
$145.9 million on 
our politicians. 
Nearly $24 million 
was contributed 
in 2008 to cam- | 
paigns of political “| 
candidates. 

Money was evenly split between members of both parties, 
according to the Center for Responsive Politics reports. And dur- 
ing the 2010 cycle, Democrats received 54 percent. So it's little 
wonder that the only calls for meaningful cuts in defense have 
come from the fringes of the political spectrum—from pacifists 
and libertarians. Any talk about fiscal responsibility is met with 
charges of not being patriotic or not supporting our troops. 

Even when defense spending declined during the post- 
Cold War 1990s there was no discussion about bringing 
net 


Р artisan bickering. Political gridlock. Right versus left. Our 


WorldMags 


FORUM 


home U.S. troops stationed in Europe. Instead, both parties 
embraced the idea of expanding NATO eastward. Mean- 
while, Germany spends $45.2 billion on defense—a mere 
1.3 percent of its GDP. 

'The embrace of defense spending goes beyond money and 
power. The Department of Defense employs 450,000 people 
overseas. So which politician is about to call for job cuts when 
the unemployment rate hovers around nine percent? 

Liberals have long been sensitive to Republican charges 
of being weak on defense. Those charges only increased 


with the debt-ceiling deal. Republican presidential candi- 
dates Newt Gingrich and Mitt Romney made it a campaign 
issue by attacking President Barack Obama for being "irre- 
sponsible" with national defense. Tea Partyer Michele 
Bachmann has demanded that the “government live within 
its means"—except, it seems, when it comes to the defense 
budget. Bachmann was joined by Obama's own defense sec- 
retary, Leon Panetta, who called the proposed cuts in the 
military “completely unacceptable." Senator Joe Lieberman 
agreed, urging that we cut Social Security and Medicare 
to keep defense funding at current levels. “We can't pro- 
tect these entitlements and also have the national defense 
we need to protect us in a dangerous world," Lieberman 
said. In order to keep the Pentagon happy, Lieberman and 
Republican senator Tom Coburn sponsored a bill that would 
raise Medicare eligibility to the age of 67. 


United States 
48% 


YOUR TAX 
DOLLARS AT WORK 


The United States accounted for nearly half 
of all the world's military spending in 2008, 
and our allies kicked in much of the rest. 
There is no end in sight to such extrav- 
agance as the defense budget continues 
to grow. Few in Washington, D.C. seem to 
have the courage to address the subject. 


Source: International Institute for Strategic Studies, The Balance 2010 


The proposed cuts offered in the debt-ceiling deal don't 
even refer to the current defense budget but rather to a 
Congressional Budget Office baseline projection—which 
assumes an annual increase in defense spending of two per- 
cent. So is it the paycheck or the raise that might get cut? The 
cuts also refer, vaguely, to all “security” spending—which 
goes beyond Pentagon spending to include departments 
such as State and Homeland Security. 

Тһе big cuts would take place if a congressional "super- 
committee" doesn't agree on overall budget cutbacks of 


$1.5 trillion. Failure to do so would lead to automatic cuts 
that would affect the military by $600 billion. 

In an analysis, Christopher Preble of the libertarian Cato 
Institute sees little pain ahead for the military—and not only 
because the cuts are vague and will likely never fully material- 
ize. Even a 15 percent cut in military spending would return 
the defense budget only to 2007 levels, according to Preble, 
and America would still account for more than 40 percent of 
the military spending on Earth. “Тһе Pentagon's budget has 
more than doubled over the past decade," writes Preble, “апа 
current projections call for the Pentagon to receive more than 
$6 trillion from U.S. taxpayers through 2021." 

And nobody talks about what missions, allies and possible 
wars we can jettison. There's a reason for that. What politi- 
cian in Washington has the courage to take a stand against 
our military-industrial complex? 


China 
6.56% 


East Asia and 
Australasia 7% 


NATO ex-U.S. 
18.68% 


Latin America 
3.34% 


Russia 
4.94% 


Sub- 
Saharan 
Africa 
0.70% 


Non-NATO 
Europe 1.54% 


Middle East and 
North Africa 6% 


Central/ 
South Asia 2.37% 


net 


FLYING WITH WEED 
I will be flying to New York and 
want to take a small amount of medi- 
cal marijuana. Where is it least likely to 
be detected—in my checked luggage, 


— 


Lisa Kirkman demonstrates her vaporizer. 


my carry-on or on my person? I don’t 
actually smoke; I ingest, so I will bring 
edibles or pills. Am I crazy to try? 
Name withheld 
Long Beach, California 
Maybe. If security officers from the Trans- 
portation Security Administration discover 
marijuana at a checkpoint or in your lug- 
gage, in whatever amount and in whatever 
form, they are obligated to contact the local 
police, who decide whether to arrest you 
and/or confiscate the weed. Officers called 
to the scene in California, and particularly 
in the San Francisco Bay area, are likely to 
be sympathetic if you have the proper docu- 
mentation and are carrying less than eight 
ounces. If they say you can board the plane, 
the TSA allows it. But by that time you’ve 
been hassled and delayed. More important, 
an okay from the SFPD doesn’t provide any 
protection if you land in a less progressive 
state—including New York—and somehow 
get caught. Although New York is one of 
13 states that penalize first-offense posses- 
sion of tiny amounts (in this case, up to 
0.88 ounces) with a fine ($100), possess- 
ing 0.88 to two ounces carries a $500 fine 
and up to three months in jail. And if you 
“openly display” your contraband, the vio- 
lation becomes a misdemeanor. In June an 
activist used a vaporizer to inhale her medi- 
cal marijuana without incident while flying 
from Calgary to Toronto. “I wasn’t break- 
ing any laws,” says Lisa Kirkman. “If you 
can use an inhaler on the plane there’s no 
reason why I can’t use my vaporizer.” 


PLAYBOY AT WAR 
My water heater burst over the week- 
end, which is bad enough, but I stored 


READER RESPONSE 


my PLAYBOY collection in the same closet. 
I lost 72 beautiful women in an instant, 
including the issues I carried in my 
ALICE pack for six months in 1991 dur- 
ing the first Gulf war. The Saudis didn’t 
care what we had; they just didn’t want 
to see it. My March 1987 issue had been 
signed by Playmate Marina Baker when 
I met her in the U.K. years ago. I also 
lost the first issue I bought in 1978 when 
I turned 18. I still remember being ner- 
vous when I asked the clerk for it. 

Jack Driggers 

Monroe, North Carolina 


I arrived in Vietnam as a 21-year-old 
in April 1966. The marine I replaced 
gave me a copy of the February 1966 
issue. I hung the Centerfold of Melinda 
Windsor in my area as a good-luck 
charm. During my time in country, 
there were a few situations in which I 
was lucky or good or both. Each time I 
thanked God and Melinda. Letters from 
stateside and copies of PLAYBOY were 
great distractions. I once received a let- 
ter addressed to "a marine in Vietnam" 
from Lannie Balcom. We exchanged 
several letters, but it wasn't until years 
later that I found out she had been Miss 
August 1965. I have always wanted to 
thank her and Melinda. 

Kenneth Butler 
Missoula, Montana 


Tell me this is not a grand photograph 
[below], taken in 1966 of my father, 
'Thomas Minardo, while he was serving 
in Vietnam. Your magazine got many 
men through the war. 

Darrel Minardo 
San Antonio, Texas 


Relaxing with the support staff, 1966. 


After seven months in Iraq, I got word 
to go home. I packed up all my stuff, 
including a healthy stack of PLAYBOYS that 
siad been sent to me as morale boosters. 
.net 


WorldMags 


That kind of material was not allowed, 
so I tried to do my duty by removing 
them from the country. Unfortunately 
the customs guys didn't see it that way 
and confiscated the issues. For some rea- 
son I think they ended up in their can 
and not in the amnesty box. 

Ryan Stauffer 

Oak Harbor, Washington 


I find it sad that a commanding offi- 
cer in Iraq or Afghanistan would punish 
a subordinate caught with a copy of 
PLAYBOY, as you have discussed in Reader 


Why they fight, Afghanistan, 2007. 


Response. When my father worked at Bath 
Iron Works, a Navy commanding officer 
there would spy on his men and dock 
the pay of those who didn't salute. Any- 
one who tries to censor soldiers' reading 
material reminds me of that CO, doing 
double duty to burn his own men. 
Joseph Ziehm 
Lewiston, Maine 


SECRET IDENTITY 
In “Fight for Your Rights" (July), you 
write, "Gender is reflected in your Social 
Security number." How so? 
Gregory Corarito 
Hollywood, Florida 
Gender is not encoded in the number; the 
only information you can glean from those 
issued before June 25, 2011 (when new num- 
bers began being randomized) is the geographic 
area or state in which it was issued, reflected 
in the first three digits. However, when an 
employer needs to verify with the Social Secu- 
rity Administration the identity of a new hire, 
it submits his or her number with name, birth 
date and gender. The information must match, 
which creates difficulties if a person doesn't 
want to reveal a gender change to an employer 
but is unable to update the SSA data. 


E-mail via the web at letters.playboy.com. 
Or write: 680 North Lake Shore Drive, 
Chicago, Illinois 60611. 


27 
F1 


Make someone happy with 
a Gift Subscription to 


PLAYBOY 


DIGITAL 


СЕТ Z FREE СІРІ 


PLAYBOY 
DIGITAL 


г AG Worigptags Li 


` N 


A Touch of Salt 


PORTLAND, OREGON—The city water bureau 
spent $36,000 draining a reservoir after 
a surveillance camera caught a man pee- 
ing into it. Health officials said half a pint 
of urine diluted in 7.8 million gallons of 
drinking water posed no risk, and the 
bureau administrator admitted that when 
the reservoirs are drained for cleaning, 


workers routinely find animal carcasses 
and garbage such as paint cans, spent fire- 
works and pooper scooper bags. Still, he 
defended the decision. “This is different,” 
he said. “Do you want to drink pee?” 


EWS 


ec 


№ | ú 


Freedom іп the Fine Print 


BROOKLYN, NEW YoRK—Oswind David had 
served nearly five years of an 18-year 
sentence for first-degree assault when he 
noticed something unusual in the district 
attorney’s response to his latest motion. 
Buried deep in the document, prosecutors 
revealed that six months before the trial, a 
judge had thrown out the charges, which 
stemmed from a fight. Rather than con- 
cede the point, prosecutors argued David 
should remain in prison because the jury 
probably would have convicted him of a 
lesser charge. A judge found that nonsen- 
sical and released David on bail. 


Creative Creep 


FULLERTON, CALIFORNIA—Police arrested 
a 20-year-old computer technician on 
charges he installed webcam spyware on 
the laptops of female classmates at his 
evangelical college. He was caught after 
a victim’s father noticed a message had 
popped up on her screen: “You should 
fix r internal sensor soon. If unsure of 


RONT | 


.net 


WorldMags 


Playboy Editor Freed 


JAKARTA, INDONESIA— The nation's 
Supreme Court reversed its con- 
viction of former PLAvBov Indonesia 
editor Erwin Arnada on charges of 
public indecency, freeing him from 
prison nine months into a two- 
year sentence. Arnada, 48, left 
Cipinang State Penitentiary display- 
ing his release letter. Arnada had 
been acquitted at trial in 2007 but 
learned last year that the Supreme 
Court had overturned the verdict 
and ordered him jailed. Soon after 
the first issue of PLAYBOY Indonesia 
appeared, in 2006, the editor and 
his staff were harassed and attacked 
by members of the Islamic Defend- 
ers Front, who demanded that 
Arnada be arrested. Although the 
magazine contained neither nudity 
nor sexually explicit content, Islamic 
fundamentalists saw the introduc- 
tion of the brand as a threat to their 
14th century values. Arnada said 
the first few days in prison were “the 
hardest of my life. | never thought 
| could be in prison simply for pub- 
lishing a magazine.” He spent his 
time writing books and screenplays. 
The title of the first book he plans 
to publish, a memoir, translates as 
“г Midnight in a Nonsense Country. 


what to do, try putting your laptop near hot 
steam." That instruction prompted many 
women to take their laptops into the bath- 
room while they showered. 


What Might Have Been 


ALAMOGORDO, NEW MEXICO—A state judge 
ordered a man to remove a billboard that 


ry 


shows him holding the outline of an infant 
and accuses his now ex-girlfriend of hav- 
ing an abortion without his knowledge. 
The woman took Greg Fultz, 36, to court 
for harassment; her friends say she had a 
miscarriage, which Fultz disputes. 


Е 
GRAPE MINE 


It’s Showtime for Cynthia Nixon 


CYNTHIA NIXON is a lesbian in real life, but she never seems to play one on TV. 
The actress stripped down for a romp with David Eigenberg in the film version 
of Sex and the City, and she bared all for another Lusty tryst with a male co-star 
in season two of Showtime's The Big C. We admire her devotion to her craft. 


"I VN М. 
АЧА ANV 
J. Lo’s Hang- 
ing Fruit 
Sans bra and 
double-sided tape 2 
on the set of Ger- 
man show Wetten 
Dass ("Let's Make 
a Bet"), JENNIFER 
LOPEZ's breast | 
finally stole atten- | FE 
tion from her butt. " 

ASST 

туз” 

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254 


Awesome 
Aussie 


Voluptuous 
stunner from 


down under 
CAMILLE 
POLLETT was 


in 2009. The 
Down i à — Sydney native is 
and ) ) also a staple of 
Dirty | B mme 
During her = i because 
à i mainly because 
concert at the her curves make 
Staples Center men want to yell 
in Los Ange- V ғ “Crikey!” 
les, sassy and | L ы | 
unabashed рор | d то 
diva RIHANNA D ” 
à я. 
gave this touch- . ^ ч Ы с» Жын 
ing perfor- 3 
mance, demon- Tum 
strating that she 1 š 
does feel like the È 
only girl in the ` i 
world—or at least à 2 š 
154 intheroom. š 
= 


MISS M DI lie 
MOLLIE KING (of 
U.K. дігі group the 
Saturdays) revealed 
herself to be a perky 
morning person as 
sheleftLondon's ITV 
studios following 
her appearance on 
the network's early 
news and lifestyle 
shows Daybreak and 
Lorraine. 


SPLASHNEWS.COM 


During BEYONCÉ's 
performance at the 
Glastonbury Fes- 
tival in June, fans 
clamored to get 
as close to center 
stage as possible— 
but it was her back- 
up dancers who en- 
joyed the best view. 


Poland's Lovely 


Little Mermaid 
Polish model LUIZA 
HRYNIEWICZ won gold in 
the Junior European Swim- 
ming Championships, so we 
called to congratulate her 
on her spectacular form. 


б 


ŁUKASZ MARCINIAK 


ЕУ ú 


Remen t when the 
Spice Girls broke onto 


the scene 


with the strength of 
five Justin Biebers? 


in 1996 


Well, 15 years 
later, 39-year- | 
old Ginger | | | 


Spice GERI 


ing heads. - 


-net 


WorldMags ` ` SS < 


HUGH HEFNE 


— THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER 


fes 
7 75 

irim 
一 - 


12 


BUY IT NOW! Du ES | x 
a 8 
CALL 1-800-423-9494 OR GO TO PLAYBOYSTORE,GOM TO ORDER. 


5 i 
$29.95. DVD. 124 MINUTES. RATED R. ( - W 0 ri d M a g S www.hughhefnerplayboyactivistrebel.com 


WorldMags 


90 


ears 
М of the 


Playboy 
Bunny 


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) 


50 


"X ҚЫП 
Playboy 


Bunny’ 


-~a 
ا‎ 
` =... 


о, — 


158 


GIRLS OF THE SEC: TAKE A TOUR OF THE BEST STUDENT BODIES IN THE SOUTHEAST. 


M 


RASHIDA JONES—IN 200 THE PARKS AND RECREATION STAR 
TALKS TO DAVID HOCHMAN ABOUT HANGING OUT WITH 
FRANK SINATRA AND MILES DAVIS, DOING DRIVE-BY SUPER- 
SOAKINGS WITH MICHAEL JACKSON AND WHY SHE SECRETLY 
DESIRES TO SHOP IN THE BUFF AT AN APPLE STORE. 


GIRLS OF THE SEC—OUR ROUNDUP OF EXQUISITE SOUTHEAST- 
ERN BELLES WILL HAVE YOU WHISTLING DIXIE AND LONGING 
FOR A DOSE OF THAT LEGENDARY SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY. 


HACKERS—THESE OUTLAWS OF THE NERD WORLD AREN'T 
THE TIMID GEEKS PEOPLE ASSUME THEY ARE, AND THE 
MOTIVATION BEHIND THEIR CYBER ASSAULTS CAN RANGE 
FROM INNOCUOUS (PLAYING A GOOD PRACTICAL JOKE) TO 
NEFARIOUS (ESPIONAGE AND INTERNATIONAL WARFARE). 
NOAH SHACHTMAN BREAKS DOWN FOUR DIFFERENT TYPES 
OF INTERNET MISCHIEF. 


THE PLAYBOY PAD: DORM ROOM—WANT TO BECOME THE VAN 
WILDER OF YOUR SCHOOL? THIS FULLY OUTFITTED COLLEGE 
ABODE WILL HAVE YOU RULING YOUR CAMPUS IN NO TIME. 


SIR RICHARD BURTON—HE WAS AN AVID TRAVELER, 
PROLIFIC WRITER AND BRILLIANT LINGUIST, BUT HIS 
RELENTLESS FASCINATION WITH SEXUALITY AND EROTICA 
LED HIS VICTORIAN CONTEMPORARIES TO OSTRACIZE HIM. 
HISTORIAN TURTLE BUNBURY ЕХАМІМЕ5 THESCANDALOUS, 
ADVENTURE-FILLED LIFE OF EUROPE'S 
SIAL AND ECCENTRIC EXPLORER. 


С Wor 


МЕХТ MONTH 


SILA SAHIN IS A TRUE TURKISH DELIGHT. 


MANNY PACQUIAO—BOXER, SOCIAL ICON OR POLITICIAN? 
THE MAN CONSIDERED TO BE ONE OF THE GREATEST FIGHT- 
ERS IN THE WORLD HAPPENS TO BE ALL THREE. KEVIN COOK 
SPENDS TIME WITH THE 10-TIME WORLD CHAMPION IN THE 
PHILIPPINES AND IN THE U.S.—AND WATCHES FROM BEHIND 
THE SCENES AS THE BOXING LEGEND PREPARES FOR HIS 
EPIC NOVEMBER FIGHT IN SIN CITY. 


SILA SAHIN—SHE CAUSED AN UPROAR AMONG CONSER- 
VATIVE MUSLIMS AND WAS SHUNNED BY HER OWN FAM- 
ILY AFTER APPEARING IN THE MAY 2011 ISSUE OF PLAYBOY 
GERMANY, BUT THE MODEL STILL HAS NO REGRETS. NOW 
THE TURKISH BEAUTY ONCE AGAIN DISPLAYS THE BODY 
SHE WAS TAUGHT TO HIDE. 


HOT DAMN—ALL PETE WANTS TO DO IS PICK UP HIS SOCIAL 
SECURITY CHECK, BUT WHAT STARTS AS A SIMPLE TRIP TO 
THE MAILBOX ENDS IN A STRANGE SCENARIO AND AN UN- 
LIKELY PARTNERSHIP. BY 2011 COLLEGE FICTION CONTEST 
WINNER MARTHA STALLMAN. 


SLOUCHING, LURCHING AND SALIVATING TOWARD 
BETHLEHEM—AT ZOMBCON PEOPLE CELEBRATE LIFE BY 
PRETENDING TO BE DEAD. F/GHT CLUB AUTHOR CHUCK 
PALAHNIUK TRAVELS TO SEATTLE TO DOCUMENT WHAT HAP- 
PENS AT THIS GHOULISH, UNCONVENTIONAL CONVENTION. 


PLUS—FIND YOUR PERFECT SCENT WITH OUR COMPLETE 
2! ТО NEWHALL FRAGRANCES, AND MISS NOVEMBER 


Mags 


a 


SECTION ” ` 


= "G E 
ADVER 
p. t 
7 M 
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GHT TO YOU BY | 
RAM'S* 7 CROWN DARK HONE’ AND SEAGRAM’S® 7 CROWN 


SPECIAL ADVERTISING SECTION 


IHE 


TO CREATE AN ICON requires a certain chemistry, 
a collaboration between artist and audience. In 1960, 
Playboy magazine reached a million readers a 
month. American males were familiar with the lifestyle 
celebrated in the magazine. They reveled in the fantasy, 
the combination of impeccable style, taste, humor and 
quality—the essentials of what was known as the good 
life. These men were hungry for something more. Hugh 
Hefner wanted to make.the fantasy real, to give the 
world of Playboy a street address, to make a destination 
where dreams come true. 


THE PLAYBOY CLUB would be a place where the women were 
beautiful, the food was gourmet, the drinks were top shelf and the 
entertainment was top notch. In the first year, more than 50,000 men had 
paid the $25 initiation fee to become lifetime keyholders. Chicago was 
conquered —and the world awaited. 


= == » BROUGHT ТО YOU BY SEAGRAM'S* 7 CROWN 


SPECIAL ADVERTISING SECTION 


THERE WERE FOUR ROOMS in the club available to the 
á members: The Living Room, the Playmate Bar, the Library 
2 апа the Penthouse. The lobby was the center of the action. A 
f Ñ 4 member coming in from Walton Street for the first time had to 
` x- be surprised by all of the sound and activity. The first person to 
! >, > meet him was the Door Bunny. If it was his first visit, she would 
4 ® introduce him to a tuxedoed manager, who would explain the 
club's various offerings. From the lobby, reservations could be 
made for the two showrooms, which each had three shows 


DOWN TO 55 every night, or for the Living Room. However, these rooms were 
—— TO PENTHOUSE usually filled, and unless you had made reservations early in the 
- day, the Playmate Bar would serve as your waiting room. 


ENTER TO WIN A TRIP TO RING IN THE NEW YEAR AT THE 


SPECIAL ADVERTISING SECTION Worl LIVER C 
Ld 
سے‎ . 


al the 


After crossing the lobby, a member would descend 
a small flight of stairs to a room 45 feet long by 

30 feet wide—THE PLAYMATE BAR — which was 
illuminated with backlit Centerfolds. Behind the bar 


were five bartenders who worked at breakneck speed ола Сіпсег Ale 

pouring, shaking and mixing drinks, and punching up 

bar checks. No matter how hard they worked, they 

never could seem to get ahead of the demand. Manhattan 
c BY Whiskey Sour 


lil 


(тн 


“ 
e 


Old Fashioned 
| Rob Roy 
e T 


"T 'LUB 
WELCOME TO THE CHICAGO PLAYBOY CLI 


” = 


Arrayed along the back wall of t 


the LIVING ROOM was os fine 
a buffet as could be found in any 
expensive restaurant in Chicago. 
You could eat all you wanted d» 

from this lavish display for only << < ' 
$1.50—or "a buck and a half," a 


phrase coined for the price of all 


food and drinks. 


BROUGHT TO YOU BY SEAGRAM'S* 7 CROWN 


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ж МЕР ЖЕ Жам 


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Orders subject to acceptance 


For fastest delivery: 
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WorldMags 


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six black diamonds on either side. The inside of the 
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whole sizes from size 7 through 16. 


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GET 


| FREE MONTH 


IN THE PLAYBOY 
f CYBER CLUB 


Playboy's Most Extensive 
Online Archive Ё 


Allison Parks & 
Hedy Scott 


Go Кето те 
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M 


at WV ` EDE 
Ф м Ww) M PLAY (E BOY. (СОМ/ 1MONTHFREE 


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in the Cyber Club 


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subscription site, featuring exclusive access 
to over 100,000 images & videos of every 
Playmate ever, classic college conference 
pictorials, iconic celebrity pictorials & more, 


SPECIAL ADVERTISING SECTION WorldMags 
They | 
a 


There is little doubt that the greatest ۴ 
reason for the success of the Chicago club 
was the female staff - THE BUNNIES. In 
January 1960 provocative advertisements 
began to appear in Chicago newspapers 
soliciting "beautiful, charming and refined 
young ladies, waitressing experience 
unnecessary." One pitch read, in part: 
“Ask yourself: “How would | look in this 
costume?” If the answer is ‘Terrific!’ then 
you are one of the girls we want for 

THE PLAYBOY CLUB." 


ip" When a Bunny sets napkins or drinks on 
k ES ік the far end oí a table, she does not 
s the table -- she 


wkwardly reach acros \ 

pm the "Bunny Dip." This keeps ca 
tray away from the patrons and ena e 
her to give graceful, stylized — 
The "Bunny Dip" is performed by arc 
back as much as possible, then 

o whatever degree 18 
he left heel as you bend 


ing the 
bending the knees t 
necessary. Raiset 
the knees. 


THE BUNNY became an American 4 
classic, an instantly recognizable 

symbol, a shorthand for sexy, ы : 
liberated and independent. The L 


women considered it a great job. 
They would work it full- or part-time, 
it was glamorous and fun, and they 
made a lot of money. They were, of 
course, what the Playboy Club was 
all about. 


ENTER TO WIN А TRIP TO RING ІМ THE NEW YEAR AT THE 


DARK HONEY (S) WorldMags 


PLAY YOUR FAVORITES AND VOTE AT 


4 
p 


DARKS 
HONEY. 


STONE 
CHERRY, 


AN AMERICAN BLENDED WHISKEY j 
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