It Never Ceases to amaze us that, despite the frustrations, dissatisfactions and potential embarrassments of holding political positions, so many men run for office anyway. One motivation, of course, is the desire for power. But, as nationally syndicated columnist Nicholas von Hoffman points out in How Washington Works: What Every President Should Know (graphically illustrated by John Craig), even Presidents aren't as powerful as you might think. In addition to his advice to the next President, Von Hoffman has some for the voters: "Read my article and you may decide that the most important vote you can cast is for your Congressman." (Nick, by the way, is leaning toward voting the Libertarian ticket this year.) If the thrill of power isn't enough, what else could take a man to Washington? We know what might motivate us: the women. As you'll find out in Beauty & Bureaucracy, there are some very lovely ladies working in Uncle Sam's offices all over town. But while some political aspirants are motivated by women and power, there are always those who run for the laughs. One such type is on page 188 in our pictorial Fred Willard for President, produced by Staff Writer John Blumenthal. If you don't particularly like politics but like wheeler-dealers, then you have to like J. R. Ewing of TV's Dallas. And if you like J.R., wait till you read our Playboy Interview this month with the man who plays him, Larry Hagman. If the interview is a true indication of Hagman's personality, we'll have to agree with interviewer David Rensin, who spent ten days in Dallas with Hagman and says, "Larry is a hell of a guy. I interviewed Peter Frampton when he was at the peak of his popularity, when he'd go out in public and 14-year-old girls would tear their T-shirts off for him, but that was nothing like going places with Larry Hagman. He handles it beautifully--gets out there with a wad of Larry Hagman $100 bills and deals with all of it. On the Fourth of July, he and I were driving back from a party, and as we exited the freeway, we were rear-ended by some drunk kid. He staggered out of his car and nearly fainted. 'I can't believe it,' he said. 'I hit J.R.' Larry said, 'You sure did, kid,' and gave the boy that wicked J.R. smile. The kid was terrified. Larry let him go."
Playboy, (ISSN 0032-1478), November, 1980, Volume 27, Number 11. Published monthly by Playboy, Playboy Bldg., 919 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill. 60611. Subscriptions: In the United States and its Possessions, $48 for 36 issues, $34 for 24 issues, $18 for 12 issues. Canada, $24 for 12 issues. Elsewere, $31 for 12 issues. 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/Director Marketings; Michael J. Murphy, Circulation promotion Director. Advertising: Henry W. Marks, Advertising Director; Harold Duchin, National Sales Manager; Michael Druckman, New York Sales Manager; Richard Atkins, Fashion Advertising Manager, 747 Third Avenue, New York, New York 10017; Chicago 60611. Russ Weller, Associate Advertising Manager, 919 North Michigan Avenue; Troy, Michigan 48084, Jess Ballew, Manager, 3001 W. Big Beaver Road; Los Angeles 90010, Stanley L. Perkins, Manager, 4311 Wilshire Boulevard; San Francisco 94104, Tom Jones, Manager, 417 Montgomery Street.
Newspeak was designed not to extend but to diminish the range of thought, and this purpose was indirectly assisted by cutting the choice of words down to a minimum. . . . [A Party member's] sexual life, for example, was entirely regulated by the two Newspeak words sexcrime (sexual immorality) and goodsex (chastity). Sexcrime covered all sexual misdeeds whatever. It covered fornication, adultery, homosexuality and other perversions, and, in addition, normal intercourse practiced for its own sake. There was no need to enumerate them separately, since they were all equally culpable . . . all punishable by death.--George Orwell, 1984
It's America's most rapidly growing indoor sport. The theme song for the Eighties will be Everybody Must Get Sued. Whatever you say or do will be held against you--not by the cops but by anyone who can afford a lawyer. And who can afford to be without one? In the coming Decade of the Subpoena, these are cases we can expect to witness.
In a recent advice column, a reader asked Dr. Joyce Brothers, the psychologist, her opinion of pornography--was she for it or against it? The reader (N.J.) had just joined a women's group that was fighting pornography but was taken aback when her neighbor "defended pornography and everyone's right to read or view it. . . . In fact . . . argued that it's actually good because it makes people aware of sex and sex is 'good.' " So the perplexed reader wrote to Dr. Brothers for advice and the good doctor, perhaps otherwise well informed and well intentioned, responded with a twisted argument that was, in turn, narrow-minded and misinformed. Since the media seem to be taking several steps backward these days on the subject of sex in general and of pornography in particular, contentedly passing off their own misimpressions as journalism, we thought it would be a good idea to take a closer look at Dr. Brothers' response and at the wide gap between it and the facts.
William Kotzwinkle is something of a cult figure among members of the drug culture--at least those who can still read. In Jack in the Box (Putnam's), the drug is testosterone--the male hormone. Kotzwinkle charts the sexual awakening of Jack Twiller--alias Captain Marvel, The Lone Ranger, The Flaming Arrow, Secret Agent X-9--as he abandons the comic-book games of innocent youth for those of the Tijuana eight-pagers owned by his friend Spider. Twiller is a victim of acute testosterone poisoning, adolescent lust. By the time he reaches his high school prom, the book begins to read like an American Graffiti for degenerates. Twiller never does get laid, and that, let's face it, is a bummer.
Choking on the Stranglers: The big burning question that practically nobody is asking these days is this: Can America survive the Stranglers? The answer almost certainly is: Give me a break. The Stranglers, for those who find the day is incomplete without knowledge of this kind, are a British gang of four who shyly describe themselves as the greatest rock band in the world.
While most other jazz/rockers have faded into a synthesized fog of endless funk jams, Al DiMeola continues to shine as the premier fusion guitarist of his day. His new two-LP set. Splendido Hotel (Columbia), is an exuberant mélange of Mediterranean, Mideastern and South American musical effects, saved from terminal silliness by DiMeola's ebullient, playful arrangements and considerable technical skills. He even, with the help of the Les Paul, makes the old chestnut Spanish Eyes sound good, which leaves us rather limp with awe.
Newsbreaks: Start saving your spare change: A small British publishing firm, Genesis, plans to release a collector's edition of George Harrison's autobiography. I, Me, Mine. It will be handmade, leatherbound and autographed by Harrison. Only 2000 copies will be printed at $350 each. . . . The Band will get together again for a one-shot album. . . . We have to credit journalist Glenn O'Brien with this one: Do you know about San Francisco's Deaf Club? It's literally a hangout for Bay Area deaf people. The deaf operate the place and patrons must learn to order their drinks in sign language. The club has a compilation album, Can You Hear Me? (Optional/Walking Dead Records), out, which features such groups as The Offs, KGB, The Dead Kennedys and Tuxedo Moon. . . . Disco star Amanda Lear has won a $2000 settlement in a slander suit against Transsexuals, a French magazine, which published the story that alleged that she was actually a man. Lear had little difficulty proving the rumor false: She's pregnant. . . . Bruce Springsteen's follow-up to his last album, released in 1978, is due about now. . . . Elvis has become the first entertainer in the history of recorded music to sell one billion records. . . . Willie Nelson will have his own brand of jeans on the market and will sing a hunch of commercials for his denims. . . . Merle Haggard has expressed interest in performing with some rock acts this year, such as the new version of Lynyrd Skynyrd, Rossington-Collins Band. . . . A postscript to a "Fast Tracks" item from last August: One of our readers, Greg Stokesbury, read about the National Republican Senatorial Committee's investigation of the Linda Ronstadt benefit concert for Senator Gary Hart in our pages and contacted the committee for help in recovering the money owed to him from 47 unused tickets to the concert. Who says rock 'n' roll is trivial?
A movie lover's movie from beginning to end, The Stunt Man may be one of the happiest surprises of the season for audiences willing--and able--to think twice about what they see. All but buried alive by distributors who have been shying away from it for nearly two years, this offbeat movie within a movie by producer-director Richard Rush (who also did Freebie and the Bean) stars Peter O'Toole at the top of his splendid form as an utterly obsessed director who's shooting an antiwar epic in Southern California and seems quite ready to make human sacrifices to his art. "If God could do the tricks that we can do, He'd be a happy man." O'Toole declares. Caught up in his entourage are a leading actress (Barbara Hershey) and an apprentice stunt man (Steve Railsback, the Charles Manson of TV's Helter Skelter) who's actually a fugitive from justice.
Idol Gossip: For weeks, the only information I could get regarding Steve Martin's next film was its title--Depression. Universal would say no more about it, other than the obvious fact that Steve would star and Carl Reiner would direct. Some scoop. Then one day, the following statement was given to me by Universal's vice-president in charge of production, Thom Mount: "Steve Martin encounters America's next depression. He turns in all his little green money for big red money. Line up--he's passing it out." Sounded more like a marketing scheme than a movie plot line, but that's not unusual in Hollywood. Half an hour after getting this priceless statement, I get yet another one--Martin and Reiner, I'm told, have just decided to jettison the entire project and start from scratch with a whole new concept. Nobody said why, but--just speculating here--one might deduce that Depression could be somewhat similar to Martin's last endeavor, The Jerk. . . . Chevy Chase and 100 midgets will star in writer/comedian Pat McCormick'sUnder the Rainbow. The flick, which co-stars McCormick and Eva Gabor, takes place in Hollywood in 1938, during the filming of The Wizard of Oz. A Japanese spy is to rendezvous with a German midget spy at the Culver City Hotel, but neither spy can locate the other because (A) there are 100 other midgets staying at the hotel for the filming of Wizard of Oz (they play the munchkins) and (B) a group of Japanese tourists has just arrived at the hotel as well. Or something like that. Anyhow, Chase plays an FBI agent and McCormick is the hotel's house dick. I'll keep you posted. . . . Speaking of spies, mine tell me that Robin Williams will be offered the role of Garp in the film version of John Irving's best seller, The World According to Garp (portions of which appeared in Playboy). This may no longer be gossip by the time this issue hits the stands, but it is at presstime. Take my word for it.
The Promoters most commonly call it adventure travel, though saner souls point out that it more often means a jaunt on which you can get meaning fully maimed. There are cold-weather choices such as helicopter skiing (where schussers have been buried in an avalanche or killed when one of the copters fell out of the sky) or such tropical trips as the search for the giant leech in Surinam (where the perils include poisonous snakes, amoebic dysentery, fire ants, killer bees, piranha, malaria, vampire bats, electric eels that inflict shocks of 400 volts and what the tour brochure describes as "small fresh-water parasites that enter painlessly through the skin and only make themselves known when they start eating away the liver."
Why is it that a change of scenery can escalate a sexual relationship? I am currently dating a woman who lives in another city. When she visits my place, the sex seems to go one way. When I visit her place, it seems to go a different way. When we meet on neutral ground, such as a hotel room, the sex can go right through the roof. We spent a night at the UN Plaza Hotel in New York that was not to be believed. Chrome, glass, air conditioning and kinky sex. There's something very erotic about room service and a view of the city. It's a style I could become accustomed to--but I don't know if I can afford it on a long-term basis. Is this usual?--J. P., Chicago, Illinois.
In a convenient exercise of judicial restraint, the U. S. Supreme Court upheld the Hyde Amendment prohibiting the use of Medicaid funds for abortions. By a vote of five to four, the Justices ruled, essentially, that a bad law is not necessarily an unconstitutional law and that Congress has the authority to be stupid. Then they apologized: "It is not the mission of this Court or any other to decide whether [the law] is wise social policy. If that were our mission, not every Justice who has subscribed to the judgment of the Court today could have done so."
People accept the idea of drinking alcohol in moderation, but that point seems lost when it comes to marijuana. Defenders of pot persist in finding it as beneficial as mother's milk. Opponents paint it as blacker than coal tar. In fact, the latest studies bear out what common-sense smokers have long suspected: Used to excess, grass has adverse effects. When it's been used occasionally and moderately, no adverse effects have been demonstrated.
Question: When the price of an ounce of gold fell about $400 this past Febrary and March, did Fed chairman Paul Volcker call and tell you to get out of it? When silver dropped from about $50 an ounce in late January to about $11 an ounce in late March, did you hear from the Hunt brothers? When the house you thought you could sell sat frozen like an ice monster this past winter, draining your pocketbook and attracting no buyers, did your mortgage banker send you flowers? When you put some of your investment nest egg in Conti Commodity's McLean II fund, did you get a letter of condolence from the fund's trading advisor as your equity shrank and the fund was liquidated with about a 75 percent loss of your capital? When the value of the common stocks you bought on a hot tip from your stockbroker didn't even keep up with the pace of inflation, just how often did your broker invite you to lunch to apologize?
<p>The most hotly debated issue this past summer was not the fate of the American hostages in Iran, how long the recession would endure, which Presidential candidate would do us the least harm or what teams would be in the world series.</p>
How Washington Works: What Every President Should Know
Nicholas Von Hoffman
"I'll ream you ass out, you son of a bitch," Tip O'Neill told Hamilton Jordan shortly after Jimmy Carter's righthand man hit town--and that was before the President had even been sworn in. O'Neill, who functions as the Speaker of the House of Representatives when he isn't playing political proctologist, was angry and embarrassed because the seats he'd ordered for his family and friends for Carter's Inauguration Gala were in the back of the hall at the Kennedy Center. Jordan like the seats. For that, O'Neill, ever (pronounced Jerdin in Georgia) had cheekily offered to give the Tipster a $300 refund on his tickets if he didn't like the seats. For that, O'neill, ever the Boston pol (who can be just as colorful as those Southern son-of-the-soil types), hung the name on Jordan that is still used on the Potomac. Around the National Democratic Club, snuggled back down behind the House office buildings or wherever else lobbyists and legislators meet to drink, they still call him Hannibal Jerkin.
On the evening of last May 18th, David Chan, Playboy's internationally famous Polaroid paratrooper, slipped unobtrusively through Washington, D.C.'s National Airport and sped via taxi to his suite in the Georgetown Inn. There are 740,000 women employed by the Federal Government and Chan was looking for, say, 20 of them headquartered in the Washington area. The day before his arrival, a full-page ad in The Washington Post had announced the beginning of Playboy's search for the prettiest women in the U. S. Government. For the next week, Chan and Playboy were the subjects of dozens of newspaper, radio and television features--and the objects of demonstrations by women's organizations. When it was over, Chan returned to our Chicago office with 400 snapshots of Federal distaffers, some of whom, like flight attendants, Servicewomen and Baylor coeds before them, were willing to risk jobs (or scholarships) to appear in Playboy's pages. We immediately put our In-House Subcommittee on Pictorial Affairs to work on selecting the most attractive of the 400 applicants and, in the process, discovered that visually, at least, our Government isn't taxing at all. But that shouldn't be surprising, because, as Chan says, "Wherever there's power, there's glamor." Sometimes the two qualities come together to everybody's benefit, as in the case of lobbyist Paula Parkinson (pictured on the following page). "The advantage of being a pretty woman lobbyist is that you have a slightly better chance of getting into a Congressman's office," she says. "Just 15 years ago, there weren't more than 40 female lobbyists; now there are more than 500, so it helps to be noticeable." Other women agree with Parkinson that it's easier for women to get ahead in Washington if they're good-looking. Theresa Reuss (opposite page), a computer operator for the U. S. Senate, says, "Looks are a great advantage in Washington. Frankly, while they want somebody who can do the job, the Congressmen and Senators would prefer having pretty women working around them. If you're pretty and competent, it's easier to get a job than if you're just competent." But, Paula adds, "A pretty woman who isn't very bright is at a disadvantage in Washington. If I met a Congressman and couldn't talk legislation with him, I'd be out of his office right away. Also, a lot of Congressmen are rather sensitive about being accused of hiring and working with women who aren't qualified, if you know what I mean." Even a beauty with brains can have difficulties with Washington men, she says, "Washington is basically a very horny city. For one thing, there are more women here than men. And men can be jerks with women and get away with it, because men are so scarce around here." Darlene Aubrey, a Navy yeoman working at the Pentagon, can attest to what (text concluded on page 236) Beauty & Bureaucracy (continued from page 128) jerks some Washington men can be. She claims she's been the victim of sexual harassment on her job, and while she concedes that that happens in offices all over the country, "I think it happens a little more in Washington." Darlene says she has been pinched, gotten "vulgar" notes in the mail and has over heard people discussing having her do jobs for them "because she's got big boobs." She says she reported a man who grabbed her breast to her division officer, but nothing was done about it. She then put in for a transfer out of her office, but it was denied. Asked whether she might be imagining some of the harassment, she says, "Either it's a pass or it's not. People tell me to forget it, but then the same guys will do it again with some other women."
The ancient Toltecs and Aztecs considered chocolate a food of the gods, bestowed on earthlings by the great god Quetzalcoatl. To Madame Du Barry, chocolate was the food of love, which she fed to suitors to fan their ardor. Actor James Coco, a confessed chocoholic, has a delicious fantasy--being immersed in a vat of Godiva chocolate and having to eat his way out. Almost as fanciful, a Chocolate Lovers Tour of Switzerland offers nine caloric days of sampling the nation's famed confections for $1354. If all this suggests an excess of passion, then you don't know chocolate freaks. They eat, drink and breathe chocolate; they cook with it, discuss it, read about it avidly--and volumes have been written on the subject. Indeed, a newsletter, Chocolate News, was launched this year, with plenty of subscribers. To many zealots, chocolate is not just a good gobble but a sensuous experience as well. They respond to packaging, presentation, the artistry of a pattern and design of a particular piece. They have definite tastes, preferring dark to milk chocolate, bittersweet to sweet, imported to domestic, filled rather than solid, and they want a high proportion of chocolate to filling, not a thin robe. Buffs look for chocolate with rich, delicate and costly Criollo cocoa beans from Venezuela and Guatemala represented generously in the blend. Such absorption inevitably brings to mind the wine lover's obsession with vintages, vineyards and grape varieties. But there's one significant difference. When tasting, an oenophile sometimes swishes wine over his tongue, then expectorates. It would take a Heimlich maneuver to make a chocophile surrender a mouthful of chocolate.
Years Ago, manufacturers of men's toiletries dealt with the American male's aversion to cologne by diluting it and calling it after-shave. Today, American men are spending $600,000,000 a year on fragrance alone. Regardless of whether you're just getting into colognes or have been splashing the scented stuff on for years, you should know that all fragrances are derived from three sources: animal (secretions of the male musk deer, the Canadian beaver and the civet cat, for example), botanical (flowers, fruits, roots and herbs) and man-made substances (synthetic oils called aldehydes that mimic nature or have their own scent). Colognes may contain any of these substances in as many as 200 combinations. It takes an expert, however, to balance the formula. Master perfumers are called noses in the trade. They learn to distinguish among thousands of scents while serving long apprenticeships at perfume houses. When a manufacturer or a designer wants to develop a new fragrance, he provides the nose with a profile or a basic description of the scent he wants to create. The process of developing a new cologne is time-consuming and costly; therefore, the formula is carefully guarded.
Jeana Tomasino is ready. Just name the occasion; she'll be there. On time, fully prepared and looking good. In spaced-out Los Angeles, where she now lives, that's a standout characteristic. So standout, in fact, that she doesn't fit Hollywood's institutionalized numerical rating system. Jeana is quite simply an A.
Pettis Norman was 11 when he stood in the shade of the tree and watched those bad-ass boys with that weird-looking ball. It was the first football he had ever seen. One of ten children, the son of an impoverished black sharecropper, Pettis could not understand why they were fighting so hard for that piece of leather.
Long the Neclected stepchild of fashion, the outercoat has suddenly been rediscovered by designers. Whether or not the neglect was due to a general feeling that men didn't care about style as long as they kept warm inside their dull cloth coats, attitudes began changing last winter, when the quilted look in outerwear caught on in a big way. (So much so, in fact, that quilting has spilled over into a host of other types of appareal.) Thus, the good news for this season is that there's a wealth of exciting outerwear looks from which to choose. Styles in polished leather, suede, down and other puffy fills, fur, various types of quilting and, of course, wool herringbones, tweeds, etc., abound in extensive looks from single and double-breasteds to trenches, wrap-arounds and reversible models. This has brought about a change in the role played by coats, and it's an alteration we heartily applaud, Previously, a dressy-looking coat was reserved for just what you'd expect--dressy occasions; and a casual-looking item of outerwear was worn only with casual clothes. Now, however, both dressy and casual coats are being mixed as well as matched with the types of outfits with which they're worn. For example, Bill Kaiserman's double-breasted blackleather coat pictured on these pages looks terrific dressed down with sweater and slacks, but it's also elegantly at home worn over formalwear. Conversely, Calvin Klein's casual reversible parka goes as well with black tie as it does with jeans.
Gladys Talbot, across the room, is warming my left tit in her hands. The skin-pink silicone form trembles with absolute lack of desire: virginal and very detached. Gladys will lend me some body heat. She presses, palm over palm, as you would pack a B-cup-size snowball. She has my boob and the charming, kindly old bandit is gonna milk me but good. Me, Deirdre.
Looking Back at the films of 1980, one might guess that movie audiences were heavily peppered with pederasts and pedophiles: If a film didn't feature gays, it revealed some budding Lolita. To be sure, homosexuals have been fairly bounding out of their closets lately, but still it's a bit surprising to realize how completely they have been assimilated into the cinema--either as central characters (Nijinsky) or as subsidiaries (Paul McCrane's sympathetically drawn gay student in Fame, Alan Rosenberg's sexually uncertain Harvard undergrad in Happy Birthday, Gemini). Not coincidentally, last year's rollicking La Cage aux Folles, which based most of its fun on the plight of two aging homosexuals attempting to appear straight, has become one of the most successful foreign films ever released in this country.
The Young Count de Rosambert, who for three months had been my companion, reproached me for the retired life I led. "Why do you, at your age, bury yourself alive in the house of your father? Why do you not hasten your entrance into the world, where you could not fail to be favorably received? Be advised," said the count, "I will tomorrow conduct you to a charming ball, and you will there see good company."
Why Should you support Fred Willard for President this Election Day? For starters, let's examine the competition. Reagan's a two-bit actor, Carter's inept and Anderson's boring: Vote for Fred and you can get all those qualities in one man! Does Fred have any experience, you ask? What does a comedian who played sidekick to Martin Mull in America 2Night and co-stars as a Presidential advisor in Buck Henry's forthcoming political comedy First Family know about foreign policy? "I once had a sizzling romance with a Puerto Rican girl," Fred says. "So I know a thing or two about foreign affairs." How does he stand on inflation? "I'm for it," says the candidate, "if we could just keep those prices down." On defense? "I think it's time America showed a little muscle. As President, I'd make all those guys in the Pentagon work out with weights for two hours a day." On Iran? "Let's cut off our oil to them." On taxes? "I've never been there, but I hear Houston is lovely." On the Afghan situation? "I prefer poodles myself, but I think Americans should be allowed to have any kind of dog they want." On food stamps? "I've tried them. They could use a little salt."
Revisiting Bimini, I found the island in no danger of overpopulation and still free of pollution. The primary interest in ecology revolves around big-game fishing; the never-ending quest for the blue marlin. For the most part, the natives don't know the legendary tales of Hemingway's Bimini exploits, nor do they remember Winslow Homer, who painted these environs so magnificently. It's strange working here. Like Homer, I stay with my water colors, ideal for painting the deep blue/green seas and the billowing blue skies.
Syndicated television reporter Nancy Collins caught up with Michael Douglas in a limousine on the way to The Watergate Hotel in Washington, D.C. Collins, who has long since censed to be impressed by either limousines or movie stars, told us: "He's a sweetheart, without being oppressive about it. He's intelligent, ambitious and driven, and yet he's a man who has retained the capacity for recreational laziness."
It's Time Again for the Playboy Music Poll, your annual opportunity to thank your favorite music aces for another year of terrific sounds. Let's face it--without them, your stereo system would be just a pile of hardware. Our list of first-round draft choices is printed here just to jog your memory. All you have to do is vote. To those musicians we missed, our space- and face-saving apologies. Artists pay special heed to the Playboy poll, because it's one of the few major music polls in which winners are chosen by the fans, not by the industry. If your choices don't appear, just enter their names in the space provided. Chances are, next year they'll make the list. But, please, if you are voting for someone who's listed, help our ballot counters by using the number beside the name. When you've finished side one, flip the ballot over to make your selections for the Hall of Fame and Best LP categories. Only official ballots count and they must be postmarked before midnight, November 1, 1980.
Motorcycling, contrary to popular opinion, is not simply a summer sport. Winter biking is a flatland equivalent of bumpless bobsledding: Half the pleasure is in the suffering. Buzzing the pikes at a smooth 70 on a crisp, 20-degree day with sunbeams painted on the landscape like drying oils is the cool part of heaven.
Not long ago, a "good" tire was one that stayed on the wheel, held air most of the time and lasted more than a few thousand miles. Today's good tire will likely run trouble-free for half the life of your car if you keep the tire's pressure up. Tomorrow's good tire will perform equally well in rain, snow and ice and on dry pavement, will seal its own punctures and probably outlast your car. And that tire of tomorrow is a lot closer than you might think.
How do T/Vs shop? Not the way I did. I went purposely disguised as me: with dabs of testosterone behind each ear, like a walking male gonad. T/Vs either will shop in full drag (if they look gynecomorphous enough--which is to say, seldom, seldom) or will let wife/ girlfriend front for them. Or even their mother.
Byron Donzis did not start out to save football by intention. Indeed, it was more a chance accident, the result of an offhand comment. The inventor had been talking to the Army in the early Seventies about an air-inflated combat boot, but those discussions had turned to something more practical--an undercushion for a bulletproof flak jacket. "What they had could stop the bullets," explains Donzis, "but not the shock." He came up with a nylon-coated urethane device that looked like black Swiss cheese. Lightweight, it had numerous interlocking spaces for air pockets, it could be filled to a comfortable pressure and, best of all, it absorbed shock and transferred it around the jacket. He named the system Donzis Variable Pressure.
A 35mm single-lens reflex camera is only a camera, but add a Cokin Creative Filter System and you've got the stuff that professional-looking dream photos are made of. The beauty of the Cokin System, which was designed by Jean Coquin, a French photographer, is that it fits all 35mm SLR cameras, thus giving you a bag of over 75 accessories in the form of filters, frames, lenses, prisms and masks. (All drop into one adjustable holder that will accept several filters at a time.) The system sells for $1030--but shutterbugs can also purchase each component separately; thus, anyone can tailor his own system to his needs.
This season, V-necks, cardigans, placket-front pullovers and other types of sweaters are among the most interesting items of apparel, which is a good thing, considering the temperature at which many office thermostats are kept. Few Scrooges will complain if you replace your jacket with something warm and woolly. (Some might even give you brownie points for initiative.) However, to avoid being mistaken for the assistant book-keeper at the end of the hall who wears a baggy buttonless cardigan summer and winter, you'll want to keep your executive-on-the-rise image by sweatering in style. A drawer in your desk or a cubbyhole in a cabinet could hold an updated cardigan to wear as a jacket, a pullover sleeveless vest, a long-sleeved pullover or a sleeveless sweater vest as a variable for warmth and stylish comfort. Naturally, the more sweaters you have on hand, the greater will be your ability to coordinate with the day's clothing and accessories. And by adding styles with interesting detailing such as shawl collars, buttoned plackets, elbow patches, stand-up collars and side-entry or patch pockets, you'll more than likely find you are leaving your jacket at the office and wearing the sweater out for the evening.