Passion indeed. February brought about our Desire issue, with, appropriately, Angelina Jolie on the cover. John H. Richardson's interview with the really-not-unattractive-at-all star generated a volume of responses that suitably complements Ms. Jolie's provocative persona.
When Esquire contributing editor Tom Chiarella decided to write about John Daly, the long-hitting, hard-living golfer, he expected honesty to something of an issue. "Everything golfers do is absurdly public, and their entire lives, right down to their mannerisms, are constantly being scrutinized.
Maybe we all become what we resist. Drea de Matteo spent five years in speech therapy trying to squeeze the Queens English— that’s Queens, New York—out of her system, only to find herself pulled back into that "great guinea thing" as Adriana, Christopher Moltisanti’s Jersey mall moll on The Sopranos.
Superglue a quarter to the floor! Toss a cap pistol into the boss's carry-on! Gentlemen, it's that blame-fool month again, and when people get angry, commit yourself to a Ward Eight (2 parts bourbon, 1 part lemon juice, dash grenadine, sugar, shake and strain) and join the April 2000 birthday party:
It's enough to cramp your hand, your stomach, and maybe one or two other parts of your anatomy: vexedly scribbling numbers, writing checks, and signing and dating, signing and dating, in duplicate, triplicate, state, federal, city nonresident—whatever the Man's pleasure.
Two ticks to midnight. The Big Day. You just got back from the post office. Your nerves are shot, your bank is broke, you could use a nip but are in no mood to wrestle with a corkscrew, and you probably should not be handling any sharp objects for a while anyway.
YOU NEED ONE OF THESE: a multitool. It furnishes MacGyverlike skill but fits in your back pocket, and thanks to its incredible utility, it’s made the leap from the belts of the bomb squad to the desk drawers and laptop bags of executives, road warriors, and home-office pixel pushers (speaking of tools).
Want to look as if you just came back from a quail-hunting trip in the Cotswolds? (And, let's be honest, who doesn't?) The lads at Land Rover and British gunmaker Holland & Holland may have just the transportation you need. Two of the four pillars of the English country gentleman's life have joined forces to build a limited run of 400 Range Rovers that will have just enough hunting accents to make you yell, "Tallyho!" when you pull out of your driveway.
A chair that cradles your butt and keeps your attention
THANKS TO DVDS AND digital audio, home theater has come a long way in the last few years, with picture and sound quality nearly as good as that found in any multiscreen cineplex. It’s the seat part— long the home viewer’s strong suit— that’s stuck in the dark ages.
ITALIAN POET AND WORLD-CLASS WOMANIZER Gabriele D'Annunzio credited the most blissful night of his life, a joyous occasion in 1927, to Pratesi bedsheets. Now the company that's been keeping Don Juans and their conquests comfortable for 94 years gives us Paradise, its most decadent sheet to date, with a 680 thread count.
THERE ARE PRIVATE GOLF CLUBS, and then there are private golf clubs. Sure, you can pony up some serious dough to join the ranks at Oakmont or Baltusrol, but you’re still going to have to wait around for that foursome up ahead to clear the seventh hole while you ask yourself, “I paid what to join this place?”
“AHN-DREY-AH.” I felt a little shudder. The voice lifted, then lilted in that singsongy, allegro ma non troppo sort of way that, for me, makes even a simple conversation with an Italian man feel like a serenade. “Don’t think, Andrea. Drink.”
MY FRIEND WAYNE is a clotheshorse, a fashion snob, a man who responds to any compliment by reciting his current litany of labels in a reverent whisper: “Prada, Prada, Prada, with a scootch of Gucci.” One windy spring night, under the strain of continuing cold weather and a bout of depression over the delay in displaying his perfect transitional wardrobe, he begged me to make him some onion soup.
Clogged Arteries, Car Deals, Tax Cheats, and Healthy Sex
I'm a middle-aged man in pretty good shape, but I'm a little scared after hearing what happened to David Letterman. How does someone who seems to be in perfect health suddenly find out that he's in danger of dying quickly if he doesn't have quintuple-bypass surgery?
ELIÁN GONZÁLEZ, the Cuban boy who reignited the cold war, has forced me to rethink my stock portfolio. As with many American investors and Washington policy makers, my willingness to send my investment dollars abroad to developing economies has been stoked by the hope that money brings progress.
WE’D BEEN SUMMONED to the office on Sunday for an emergency meeting: Our third-quarter numbers were going to fall short of analysts’ expectations. Way short. We were a classic story stock, and up until then our story had been gold, from our boywonder founder and CEO to our proprietary technology to the multibillion-dollar markets we were targeting.
LAST MONTH, I ANNOUNCED that after a great two years, I’d decided that the My War portfolio had run its course. My War effectively showed how portfolios function over time. But there is a serious flaw in any portfolio that launches fully formed:
Both of these telecom microcaps are in a sector that's growing extremely quickly in markets all over the world and shows no sign of relenting. Both feature the usual pitfalls associated with small caps, including those detailed above. Both have shallow pockets and microscopic revenues.
The latest too-good-to-be-true Internet business is giving away cars
Ted C. Fishman
THERE’S SOMETHING PROFOUNDLY unfair about picking a posh suburb as the test market for free automobiles. As if one of the nation’s most affluent towns, already strewn with Lexuses and Land Rovers, didn’t have enough going for it, residents are now driving free cars.
We’ve got your American Beauty right here—plus eight other awards we’d like to see
BY MY COUNT, LAST YEAR’S BAG of certifiable masterpieces came down to just two movies: Spike Jonze’s Being John Malkovich, which I’ve already praised to the skies, and Mike Leigh’s Topsy-Turvy. I don’t expect either to get its due on Oscar night, but why should they?
1 In the Olden Days, I Believe They Called It Theater Didn't George Clooney learn his lesson with ER's live episode? This month, he goes without the safety net again, playing Colonel Jack Grady in an adaptation of the 1962 best-selling novel and 1964 feature film Fail-Safe.
With his new novel, Saul Bellow proves that he still dominates
<p>I DON’T HAVE TOO MANY LITERARY heroes anymore—I could count the living ones on the fingers of one hand—so when an editor friend asked me to do an interview with Saul Bellow three years ago, I did not hesitate. Here was my chance to get right next to one of the masters, to feast on his aura.</p>
1 A Memoir to Read J. D. Dolan's elegant, unvarnished memoir, Phoenix: A Brother's Life (Knopf, $22), is a remembrance of, and a coming to terms with, the life of his brother, John. Older by 11 years and J. D.'s hero, John died from burns suffered in an explosion at a Nevada power plant.
THIS IS PAUL BEESTON'S Gospel of the Game: That baseball is the last of the civilized sports. That we are not doomed to repeat history, that just because the labor wars between the owners and players stretch back as far as a generation of fans can see doesn’t mean it must always be so, forever and anon.
1 Proof That the Big Man Is Alive and Well At 8:30 P.M. ET on April 8, the two best sevenfooters in the game, Tim Duncan of the San Antonio Spurs and Shaquille O’Neal of the Lakers, lock horns in L. A. Think Russell versus Chamberlain, only with longer shorts and a glut of body art.
Is golf a sport? Well, that’s sort of a debatable question. It certainly requires a great degree of skill and coordination (as a sport does), but it doesn’t require you to run around and sweat a lot (as a sport does). That being the case, you don’t have to wear aerodynamically efficient body stockings to improve your game; you just need some comfortable togs that’ll look good.
SPECIAL EDITORIAL SECTIONS ON GOLF in men’s magazines are a lot like life. Each page, like each day, is limited only by our ambition and imagination, but the total number of pages is, alas, limited. Um, and you have to find the right balance between text and graphics, just as in life you have to find the right balance between something and something else.
<p><i>Cleavage, baby! All anybody wants is tits. Probably we went too far
away from babes, until the Brits came and said enough p.c.—let’s have fun.
Isn’t it fun? </i>—E-mail from a veteran magazine editor (not at Esquire)
answering a magazine journalist’s recent question, “What happened to this
EVERY TIME YOU HEAR THAT SOUND, GOD HAS CREATED ANOTHER BILLIONAIRE. MARK CUBAN IS NUMBER 199.
<p>FORTY STORIES OVER DALLAS, A GLEAMING ATRIUM, THE SKY LOBBY AT the Petroleum Club. A bumptious guy in Bally loafers holds court before a rapt semicircle of Harvard Business School alumni. Bankers and lawyers, cattlemen and oil execs, they’ve cleared their calendars and paid twenty dollars each to hear him speak.</p>
AT A PRESS GATHERING just after the 1992 election, David Broder, the dean of Washington reporters, commented to me that my Clintonista colleagues and I seemed so, well, so young to him. “I guess you Baby Boomers are really taking over,” he said.
AND YOU THOUGHT ONE OF THE WORLD'S BEST PLAYERS WAS SQUANDERING HIS TALENT
John Daly greets me in his Saturday-morning uniform—XXXL Razorbacks T-shirt, beltless blue jeans, and tube socks. He might have rolled out of bed in these very clothes. He runs a hand over his stubble; a goatee appears to be rising. His head has been clipped to a uniform length.
<p><strong>The game begins with the land on which it is played.</strong> Play these courses and you will understand where the game comes from, where it has been, and where it is going. And, oh, yeah: one of them is not in the United States.</p>
Nothing is sadder than a single loitering about in hopes of joining a threesome. This is also true in golf. Golf, by the way, is not a sport. You want it to be a sport? Okay, it's a sport. And so is croquet. Likewise, golf is not a workout. Walk the course briskly, play fast, and carry your own bag, and golf could be construed as a light workout.
Television's boldest new series is called WONDERLAND, and Esquire's got the first look at its cast—the ones who aren't in straitjackets, anyway
DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT SAYING what a bad day you had at work today. Not to these people. Was there traffic on the way home? Did the PowerPoint presentation have a glitch? Save it— it doesn’t add up to much when compared with schizophrenia, mania, and criminal psychopathology, all of which take up the average nine-to-five for the characters on the ABC drama Wonderland, which premieres March 30.
The Era of Big Government Is Over. And Marcus Stephens Is Dead.
A TRUE CHRONICLE OF WASTE, FRAUD, AND ABUSE
Charles P. Pierce
<p>OUR LIVES ARE PLANETARY NOW, SMALL WORLDS AND GREAT ONES, whirling together and whirling apart, great bodies pulling at the smaller ones until their orbits nearly converge and the smaller worlds pay a dear price. That’s what we have now—Kepler’s republic, where Madison’s rules bend to Newton’s laws—and that’s where our stories are formed and shaped to be told to us.</p>
<p><strong>There are things</strong> I cannot even think of taking credit for. Pure luck. Dumb luck. Literally. I didn’t get in the car. Or I moved two steps to the left. I could just as easily be in jail as be sitting here. I know that. A bad break—over and out. Luck.</p>
Two guys, two bikes, two months, one robbery, and eleven hundred miles of mountains, jungles, and white sand
Wil S. Hylton
<p>I am lost. Or rather, <em>we</em> are lost. My buddy Lou and I, two skinny yanquis in the middle of Cuba, drenched with sweat, doubled over our bicycles, gasping for breath, exhausted. It’s late and dark and hot and sticky. We’ve come sixty miles today, lugging two hundred pounds of equipment, and despite our best efforts to stay on the main road, we ended up here, inside a field of sugarcane.</p>
Store Information The Esquire Guide, p. 91: Nike golf shoes at Niketown nationwide. Callaway Golf by Nordstrom golf shoes at Nordstrom nationwide. Salvatore Ferragamo golf shoes at Salvatore Ferragamo nationwide. Pp. 92-93: Alfred Dunhill vest, polo, and trousers at Alfred Dunhill select stores.
Acceptance Speech for Winner of Best Actor Award And/or Presidential Primary
THANK YOU, thank you very much. (Thunderous applause.) Thank you. (Thunderous applause, along with whistling and hooting.) Thank you. (Thunderous applause at apparent inability to continue due to overwhelming support and admiration.)