Whether You Drop, pop, snort, toke, tipple or shoot, chances are you have taken or will take some kind of drug today. Because, whether it's Quāāludes, coffee or coke, ingesting drugs is more the national pastime than either football or baseball. Few can resist the temptations offered by body-and mind-altering agents. Even fewer take the time to find out what those substances do to their systems. To that end, we offer a series of highly informative articles on the subject.
Playboy, September, 1978, Volume 25, Number 9. Published Monthly by Playboy, Playboy Building, 919 North Michigan Avenue, Chicago, Illinois 60611. Subscriptions: In the United States and Its Possessions. $33 For Three Years, $25 for Two Years, $14 For One Year. Canada, $15 Per Year. Elsewhere, $25 Per Year. Allow 45 Days for New Subscriptions and Renewals. Change of Address: Send Both Old and New Addresses to Playboy. Post Office Box 2420, Boulder, Colorado 80302, And Allow 45 Days for Change. Marketing: Ed Condon, Director / Direct Marketing: Michael J. Murphy, Circulation Promotion Director. Advertising: Henry W. Marks. Advertising Director: Harold Duchin, National Sales Manager: Mark Evens. Associate Advertising Manager, 747 Third Ave., New York. N. Y. 10017; Chicago, Russ Weller, Associate Advertising Manager, 919 N. Michigan Ave.: Detroit, William F. Moore, Manager, 818 Fisher Bldg.; Los Angeles, Stanley L. Perkins, Manager, 8721 Beverly Blvd.; San Francisco, Robert E. Stephens, Manager, 417 Montgomery St.
It has been said that most songwriters have only one basic song on which they do variations forever and that a song-writer with two basic songs is a genius. If one applies that standard to writers of books, then Isaac Bashevis Singer, though an outstanding author, is not a genius, because he has basically one story to tell: the struggle of Jews to maintain their culture in a rapidly changing and often antagonistic world. Shosha (Farrar, Straus and Giroux), his latest novel, is about Arele, a young Jewish writer, the son of a rabbi, living in pre--World War Two Warsaw. Arele finds and marries his long-lost childhood sweetheart, Shosha--who, though chronologically an adult, is physically and mentally a child. When the writer discovers Shosha, whom he had presumed dead for 15 years, his hitherto penurious life has just taken a confusing turn for the better. He has been offered a chance to write a Yiddish play for an American Jewish actress, who seduces him and offers to marry him and let him bring Shosha to America with them so that they might escape the coming holocaust. Arele turns down her offer and marries Shosha, who is generally thought of by his fellow writers as crazy at best and an idiot at worst. Thus, Arele opts for love in the face of a multitude of disasters: the folding of his play before it opens, a loss of prestige, the termination of his generous monthly stipend for writing the play, the loss of his friends' respect for having married badly and, of course, the coming of the Nazis. Threaded throughout Shosha are the familiar Singer characters: the mystic, the intellectual cynic, the simple peasant girl, the neurotic and domineering older woman and Singer's own persona, the troubled, philosophical and fundamentally idealistic young man. Those who have read Singer's autobiographical A Young Man in Search of Love will find many of the same characters in Shosha. Those who have read his Enemies, a Love Story will find the same quest for the meaning of the Jewish experience. In Singer's marvelous collection of short stories A Crown of Feathers, one will find the same questions asked. If you've never read Singer, read Shosha and you'll "get it," as they say in est.
Gadgets that purport to enlarge the penis have always had one thing in common: They don't work. Recently, one such device, developed by the English sexologist Robert Chartham, Ph.D., has been widely advertised as having proved its effectiveness in a serious scientific test. The U. S. Food and Drug Administration, which disagrees, has, with the cooperation of the Customs Service, detained several shipments of the Chartham Method; but one of our more eccentric editors, Bill Helmer, managed to get hold of one for investigative purposes. Here, for what it's worth, is his report.
Carly Simon and James Taylor are the first family of pop music. With Paul Simon, they have kept New York City on the recording map. (Everyone else is part of the Southern California folk-rock Mafia.) The New York group of songwriters seems to be developing a common sensibility with songs that are laid back, almost conversational. Letters to literate lovers. The one effect Taylor has had on Carly is restraint. Boys in the Trees (Elektra/Asylum) is classic Carly, only less. The restraint is most evident on the old Boudleaux Bryant hit Devoted to You. Carly and James sing the song as modestly as two lovers delivering vows in church. The lush production pyrotechnics of the Richard Perry age are things of the past. Arif Mardin lets simplicity shine through: On the title song, the bass line on the guitar sustains the voice, where once an entire orchestra labored in vain. Without the clutter, it's easier to tell what it is you're supposed to be listening for. There's a lot of gentle combat on this album, one lover chiding another for minor insecurities: "You don't have to prove that you're beautiful to strangers." Boys is comfortable. Quiet. A good house guest.
Hard drugs--a couple of kilos or so of pure heroin--are the motivating factor of Who'll Stop the Rain? (adapted by Robert Stone and Judith Rascoe from Stone's novel Dog Soldiers). Back in 1971, a weak and demoralized war correspondent (Michael Moriarty) persuades a former Marine Corps buddy (Nick Nolte) to smuggle the stuff home from Vietnam by ship, for delivery to his unsuspecting wife (Tuesday Weld). None of the three knows that they have been set up for a corrupt Government agent (Anthony Zerbe) and a pair of sadistic thugs, who won't stop at kidnaping, mayhem or murder to lay their hands on the stash. Despite an undercurrent of moral outrage--more or less a residue of the book's metaphorical hint that a useless war can turn everyone's values inside out--Rain is essentially a chase movie, pure and simple. The dramatic climax in a desert hideaway in New Mexico, site of an old commune where Sixties flower people used to turn on and tune in to rock music, seems such obvious symbolism that you may marvel, as I did, at the awesome ingenuousness of moviemakers. Why there, of all places? Because the setting looks great. Because it says something. Moriarty, Weld and Nolte (still a rather stolid sex symbol since his Rich Man, Poor Man reputation sent him flipping into The Deep) are all capable actors, stymied by the fact that there's something intrinsically anticlimactic about drug-culture characters who get glazed on happy dust to float through every crisis. Weld and Nolte are cast as lovers on the lam--the kind of number Ida Lupino and Bogart used to do--but they seem so spaced out and detached that it's not easy to know what they feel or to care a hell of a lot. Who'll Stop the Rain? is technically almost flawless, with super photography by Richard H. Kline and impeccable direction by Karel Reisz (who made the memorable Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, as well as Morgan!). A good, exciting movie for the popcorn trade, put together by people whose collective credentials promise something a little more important, and measurably better, than action melodrama that never really gets high.
Idol Gossip: Cartoon shorts will be returning to the big screen soon. Set for production at Warner Bros. are animated shorts featuring Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Wile E. Coyote, Porky Pig, Road Runner and Duck Dodgers. Steven Spielberg has volunteered to write a script for the new Duck Dodgers episode. . . . Director Hal Ashby has signed to direct Being There, from Jerzy Kosinki's novel. He'll do it before The Hawkline Monster. . . . Fresh off the Irving Wallace family assembly line is The People's Almanac #2, due out in October, with all new material. . . . Screenwriter Robert(Chinatown)Towne will make his directorial debut with Greystoke, the real story behind the Tarzan legend, from his own script. . . . Peter(North Dallas Forty)Gent, the ex-Dallas Cowboy turned author, has written a new novel, set for September pub. Texas Celebrity Turkey Trot is a humorous look at a football star's plunge from fame to instant oblivion. . . . TV personality Gerald Ford won't go on the air for NBC again until 1979, when his book comes out. The subject of the TV spot will be his pardon of Nixon and reaction to Watergate. . . Keir Dullea and Bud Cort will star in NBC's TV movie of Aldous Huxley's Brave New World, set for next season. . . . Gloria Emerson has embarked on a new book project for Simon & Schuster--she'll interview men on maleness in America. . . . And guess what CBS has in the works--a two-hour TV movie called The Freddie Prinze Story. R.I.P.
Perhaps you can settle an argument that I am having with my mother and sister. They say that a woman should not agree to sexual intercourse every time her husband initiates it. They say that by occasionally saying no (even though you feel like saying yes), you help make the relationship exciting. You make the sexual act more special when it does happen. I have never been able to do this. Even though I do not consider myself oversexed, I do feel that I have a very healthy sexual appetite. I even initiate sex sometimes. I enjoy my husband and he enjoys me. It seems somewhat dishonest to make excuses not to have sex--just for the purpose of putting off what you can have today for something better tomorrow. It couldn't be better. My mother and sister make the analogy to a constant diet of steak, which causes a man to lose his appetite for steak. What do you think?--Mrs. B. M., Norton, Virginia.
At a recent Hollywood party, a sophisticated host gathered everyone into his sumptuous living room for a surprise. Up went an expensive painting and down came a great big movie screen. A murmur of excitement raced through the crowd when the projector flashed the title Deep Throat. It was a high-quality uncut version of the porn classic, which most of the guests had never seen. As the sexy story unreeled, some partygoers became undone. Extremely upset, that small contingent left quickly while the celluloid carnality intensified.
Nearly two years ago, Montana authorities charged five persons with cultivating marijuana--a crime that under state law carries a penalty of up to life in prison. That case raised the curtain on one of the longest-running black comedies in Montana legal history, but at last the show is over. The prosecution has agreed to drop charges against the last two defendants--after courts long since freed the others on legal motions. In the end, it was a trade-off. The two remaining defendants also agreed to drop their lawsuits asking almost $7,500,000 in damages against the county attorney, the arresting officers and others for alleged civil rights violations.
In 1976, Sylvester Stallone burst upon the American movie scene like a Roman candle. In "Rocky," his Cinderella saga about a club fighter who valiantly goes the distance with the champ, Stallone himself became a Hollywood heavy-weight to be reckoned with. His portrayal of boxer Rocky Balboa was an energized blend of brute force and injured innocence that drew raves from reviewers--and unabashed admiration from millions of moviegoers. (Incidentally, before the movie opened, Arthur Knight in our "Sex Stars of 1976" forecast Stallone's success.) "Rocky" became the sleeper hit of the decade, and although Stallone was denied Oscars for his screenplay and acting, "Rocky" went on to win three Academy Awards, including one for Best Movie of 1976.
On a blind date with a beautiful brunette, you quickly try to impress her with your manliness. "I ran five miles today," you say, "and what did you do?" She replies, "I jumped off a three-flat and lived." What can you follow that with? Bending a beer can with one hand? Nothing. You feel like a wimp. "I don't want any wimps hanging around," says California-born Simone Boisserée. She's not a hard lady, considering her job, which consists of falling from great heights, diving off rapidly moving objects and the like. But we wondered if her profession frightens off some men. "Sometimes. Stunt women are thought of as mannish, but the fact is that we're almost all very feminine and very bright. Of course, a lot of men can't do the things stunt women do, so naturally, some men are intimidated by that." Are there advantages to being a daredevilette? "Sure. Men find it interesting that a woman would want to take on these kinds of challenges." So what kind of man makes this cat-girl purr? "I like athletic, outdoorsmen types. Men who aren't intimidated by my physical skills." Simone just finished working in Roger Corman's Deathsport, with 1970 Playmate of the Year Claudia Jennings, and in Clint Eastwood's Every Which Way but Loose, in which she rolls out of the path of a speeding car. Doesn't she ever get scared, particularly doing falls? "I've never been afraid of heights. Of course, a stunt can be hazardous. But when you fall off a horse, you try to find a soft spot to land and when you do a high fall, you learn to control your fall by not letting your head drop--which, if it does, can throw you into a spin. Sure, I want to avoid injury, but I also want to make the stunt believable, 'selling the action,' as we say." Don't worry, Simone. We're sold.
Security at Romania's Otopeni Airport is severe but gently done. My wife, Nancy, and I are politely separated--it's weird to have come so far with her, to such a strange place, only to see her led away--and we are searched in curtained booths; she by uniformed women, I by lean young soldiers bearing automatic weapons. The soldiers are thorough but never rude, and though they constantly watch your eyes, they are careful to make comforting little jokes.
We have a lot to thank Jamaica for: reggae rhythms to keep our toes tapping, 151-proof rum for kamikaze Friday nights, bauxite for aluminum to warm our TV dinners in, high-test ganja for our religious ceremonies and, oh, yes, a fellow named Ian Fleming penned a few mildly successful thrillers there about a terminally horny secret agent.
Suddenly, the girl broke out of the clinch at her apartment door. "Please understand, Ed," she panted to her first-time date. "I guess you'd better go now. I--well--I simply couldn't become intimately involved with someone who's hung as heavy as you are!"
Sitting indolently in his gravity couch, Nerl For-feech was lasciviously eying this month's Plaything magazine centerfold. The shiny cellulose pages fell all the way to the floor, because on the planet Znorr-fytt there are six sexes, and the photograph included all the erotic subtypes.
Ask any old coach and he will tell you there's nothing really new in football--except the length of the cheerleaders' skirts and an occasional rule or two. Every few years, a coach some-where introduces a new backfield alignment with appropriately juggled blocking and ball-handling assignments, gives it a grabby name, catches opposing defenses unprepared and wins a conference championship. The next April, hordes of visiting coaches from all over the land haunt the side lines of the great innovator's spring practice. He is invited as a guest lecturer to scores of coaching clinics and within two or three years, in-numerable college teams have adopted his new formation.
Last November, we directed peripatetic Contributing Photographer David (Girls of . . .) Chan to "Go West, young man, go West," since we'd heard there was gold in them that hills, and we don't mean the mineral variety, either. At the time, the idea was to do Girls of the Pac 8, Pac referring to Pacific, 8 to the number of schools that made up the N.C.A.A. conference out West--Oregon State University, the University of Southern California, UCLA, University of California at Berkeley, the University of Oregon, Stanford University, the University of Washington and Washington State University. Having interviewed more than 5000 girls over the past two years for such features as Girls of the New South, Girls of the Big Ten and Girls of Washington, Chan was used to dealing with beautiful girls (text concluded on page 238) Girls of the Pac 10 (continued from page 146) in large quantities; nonetheless, he was somewhat overwhelmed by the number of lovelies he found out West, so three more photographers--Pompeo Posar, Arny Freytag and Nicholas DeSciose--were dispatched to help David handle the flow. To make matters worse (or better, depending on your point of view), two new schools--the University of Arizona and Arizona State University--joined the Pac 8 conference last winter, making it the Pac 10, which sent Chan hurrying off to Tucson and Tempe for more interviewing. To make a long story short, we simply found too many gorgeous coeds for just one feature, so we decided to break it up into two parts--we'll handle five schools this month and the other five next month. Waste not, want not.
Last fall, Peter Bourne, Special Assistant to the President for Health Services, announced the creation of a White House Office of Drug Abuse Policy. The new Administration, he said, wanted "to create an atmosphere in which drugs can be used objectively and utilized effectively . . . on a purely scientific basis not colored by past history." It was high time. Eleven states have already decriminalized marijuana, perhaps shamed into reason by the excesses of past Government propaganda on the evils of the weed. Congress has been seriously considering decriminalization legislation and various subcommittees are looking for new villains--the Dr. Feelgoods with their arsenal of uppers and downers and the drug companies with their high-pressure, high-profit pushers. Playboy recognizes that drug abuse is a problem--but it is a problem cured by education, not regulation. We have prepared a drug taker's self-defense kit (including a chart on the effects and dangers of the most commonly abused chemicals). Reporter James McKinley investigates the big-business side of "legal" drugs, while Arthur Stickgold analyzes the street-drug scene. Ingest at will.
Better Living Through Chemistry: Some Precautionary Notes
We recently came across an unusual list--the most requested books in the New York Public Library. Number one is a large volume called Physicians' Desk Reference and it's a guide to 2500 drugs. The demand for P.D.R. is so great that each person is allowed only 45 minutes with it.
Why do you think they call it dope? Beats us. One side claims that smoking dope can affect one's ability to perform complicated tasks. The other side argues that Jamaican field hands regularly smoke enough ganja to sedate all of Orange County and still manage to function as well as the next guy, unless the next guy is the head of I.T.T. Oh, well. Consider the following: A few years ago, some dude tried to smuggle hashish into the U. S.--concealed inside a hollowed-out bowling ball. He was apprehended in Puerto Rico. Where did he go wrong? For starters: The bowling ball was his only piece of luggage.
You Smile as Your Doctor scribbles on his pad. You utter thanks as he extends the prescription. You grasp it, feeling some relief already from whatever ill your flesh is heir to--perhaps anxiety or depression, insomnia or pain.
Last Spring, a traveling carnival came to Kansas City, Missouri. The side show featured an unusual exhibit. An 18-year-old boy--supposedly the victim of LSD--lay on the dirt floor of a cage, eating dead snakes. Outside, the barker lured crowds with the promise that they would see for themselves the effects of drugs on American youth. The ultimate bad trip.
Let's Face it, fellas--the old shticks just aren't good enough anymore. Those trusty old one-liners are putting them to sleep. Girls who used to find you witty are now finding you a muzzle. The only way you're going to be the life of the party nowadays is to imitate America's favorite comic--Steve Martin. By simply dressing up like Steve and memorizing the familiar Martin shtick we've provided on these pages, you can be a laugh riot!
Once, long ago, there lived a caliph named Mohammed Rizkhala, a just ruler who was respected and loved by his subjects. And he loved some of them in return with especial vigor--certain wives and concubines of his courtiers. He was a discreet man, though, and no one ever lost honor from an exposure of these secret affairs.
In the Spirit of last summer, the New Wave of European designers seems to be suggesting that loose living is the mode for the winter months to come. The look is big, burly coats over outerwear jackets over bulky cowl-neck sweaters. In other words, the layered look again but beefed up--really beefed up--with contrasting fabrics and textures and dark, murky colors. Truly defensive dressing that will allow the adventurous wearer to bivouac comfortably in the stormiest of urban wildernesses. (It's evident that Europeans are going to be ready for more frigid blasts this winter.) Underneath the outercoats and sweaters are shirts with tiny Buster Brown collars and ties that are thinner than a hobo's shoe leather. The over-all effect is not exactly what the well-dressed account executive would wear to the office. At least not this year. Yet there are elements of it that might work for you. These days, France and Italy seem to be arguing over who has the last word in fashion, and judging from the kind of extremism that their argument appears to be generating, who knows where it will end? Maybe in Blighty; the more understated young British talents are quietly gaining more strength and prestige.
A kiss in the dark may be quite continental, but an irrevocable trust is a girl's best friend. From a man's point of view, however, a revocable trust may be better. The message of these words--some of which are taken from song and some from logic--is that a man who would like to provide for his mistress after his death can best do so by establishing a trust during his lifetime and naming her the beneficiary. In that way, the gift is just another little secret between the two of them.
Whatever its format, a turntable-and-arm assembly has two main jobs. One is to rotate the record; the other is to permit the pickup cartridge to track that record. Like all things in audio, however, stating it that simply is just too simple.
The first thing you should know about credit cards is that some of them don't provide credit. The second thing you should know is that the interest rate extracted by the ones that do extend credit is about equal to what you'd have to pay on a Mafia loan. And non-payment can be very hazardous to your financial health.
History doesn't record who discovered that certain types of corn kernels would snap, crackle and eventually pop when exposed to heat, but no matter. Across the country every year, over six and a half billion quarts of corn go off with a bang, especially during peak cinema hours and just before The Tonight Show. Sure, you can make popcorn in a pan, but why bother, when there are machines to do it for you? Shake, rattle and eat!
Mirror, mirror on the wall, the table and even the hi-fi, which is the fairest of them all? Your answer, of course, will reflect the type of shiny surface you personally dig. Mirrors have come out of the bathroom and begun to brighten all kinds of others corners. Even grooming mirrors have received a face lift; in fact, we think that the three pictured below are such a reflection of good taste that they're practically objets d'art. Another nice thing about mirrors is that they're excellent mixers. If you're into modern furnishings, mirrors work fine. But they're also bright counterpoints to mahogany antiques. Mirrors, mirrors everywhere--and looking good.