By the time you read this issue, Hillary Rodham Clinton and her team of reformers will have written their first prescription for America's ailing health care system. Don't expect instant medical utopia. In Your Money or Your Life, financial reporter Jonathan Greenberg tells us there are so many interests at stake, a quick fix is about as likely as a cure for the common cold. We present our own take in An Enlightened Proposal. No fair peeking, Hillary. Senior Editor Peter Moore'sGo Ahead, Make My Deductible is one man's tale of how he sabotaged the system. His solution puts the onus on you, the consumer.
Playboy, (ISSN 0032-1478). August 1993, Volume 40, Number 8. Published Monthly by Playboy, 680 North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago, Illinois 60611. Subscriptions: $29.97 for 12 Issues, U.S. Canada, $43.97 for 12 Issues. All Other Foreign, $45 U.S. Currency Only, for New and Renewal Orders and Change of Address, Send To Playboy Subscriptions. P.O. Box 2007, Harlan, Iowa 51537--4007. Please Allow 6-8 Weeks For Processing For Change of Address. Send New and Old Addresses and Allow 45 Days For Change. Postmaster: Send Form 3579 To Playboy. P.O. Box 2007. Harlan, Iowa 51537-4007. Advertising: New York: 747 Third Avenue, New York 10017; Chicago: 680 North Lake Shore Drive. Chicago 60611. West Coast: 6580 Sunset Boulevard, West Hollywood. CA 90069. Metropolitan Publishers Representatives. Inc., Atlanta. 3017 Piedmont Road Ne. Suite 100. Atlanta. Ga 30305. Miami: 2500 South Dixie Highway. Miami. Fl 33133: Tampa: 3016 Mason Place. Tampa, Fl 33629
In the Thin Man series, the society sleuths Nick and Nora Charles had to cope with a dog named Asta. In Undercover Blues (MGM), Dennis Quaid and Kathleen Turner, a Nick and Nora for the Nineties, have as their excess baggage a baby girl. She travels with them in and around New Orleans, looking adorable as her mom and dad chase terrorists, elude a crazed killer and land karate kicks where they really hurt. They also trade nonstop banter with all comers. When an admirer ogles their toddler and asks, "Boy or girl?" Quaid swiftly responds, "Gosh, I hope so." Although Quaid's smart-alecky manner and killer smile are overworked, he and Turner appear to enjoy themselves immensely as Mr. and Mrs. Blue--married spies moonlighting on their maternity leave. The fun is contagious, with broad comic stints by Stanley Tucci and Fiona Shaw as the worst villains and Larry Miller and Obba Babatunde as a droll, befuddled pair of New Orleans lawmen. Director Herb Ross stylishly pumps up an irreverent screenplay by Ian Abrams, even making the violence good for laughs--particularly in Quaid's babe-in-arms battle with two muggers and in a mud-wrestling melee between Turner and Shaw. Despite trying too hard from time to time, the Blues should cheer you up. [rating]3 bunnies[/rating]
A little mermaid, a big beast and a whacked-out genie put Disney back on the map--reason enough to begin racking up Walt's finest on disc (all from Image Entertainment). Our core-collection selections:
When it comes to home video, actor Michael Richards is as unpredictable as Kramer, his Seinfeld alter ego. On the one hand, he's a drama lover whose favorites include such classics as The Great Escape, Midnight Cowboy and In the Heat of the Night. But he's also a pushover for slapstick. "I am a major fan of Charlie Chaplin," he says, "and I love anything with Peter Sellers--A Shot in the Dark, Being There and the Pink Panther movies." Other pet performances include Albert Brooks in Lost in America, Chevy Chase in Fletch and Eddie Murphy in 48 Hours and Beverly Hills Cop. "I love it whenever you have comedians running around with guns in their hands." Talk about killing your audience. --Susan Karlin
Even Before David Koresh and his faithful Branch Davidians burned to death live on CNN, things were not going well for the cult leader. Four federal agents died storming his compound, he was nursing a bullet wound and he was surrounded by more hostile forces than anyone since Custer. Many things go through a man's mind at such a time, and given the age in which we live, one of the most important--to Koresh and others who find themselves temporarily famous--could also have been the most lucrative: How much will NBC pay me for my life story?
You won't find it on the news, but a revolution is going on in this country. It's being led by bourbon connoisseurs who have suddenly discovered a unique category of limited-edition whiskeys that is so new, no name has been coined to describe its spectrum. For ease of identity, we'll refer to it as small-batch bourbon, the term used by Jim Beam.
Only a dozen years into the future, the world of 2005 doesn't appear so far away to most of us. But to novelist William Gibson in Virtual Light (Bantam), it is a science-fiction nightmare. Our worst contemporary problems are magnified on a planet ravaged by natural and man-made disasters, in populations decimated by plagues and in societies ripped apart by drugs and greed. The denizens of this near future are heavily into tattoos, a PCP-like drug called dancer, fundamentalist cults and virtual-reality trips. The society's main connection to the world we know today is through "old" movies from the Eighties and the junk pile of outdated 20th century technology that is rifled by survival artists of the underclass.
Los Angeles--It was the morning after the bitchin'-show-to-beat-all-bitchin'-shows. The hotel room stank of sanitized toilet-bowl cleaner and cigarettes, so I split. On the street I grabbed a fat Sunday paper full of inserts and sports pages, then dug in at the counter of a local diner.
Yesterday I attended a workshop in Phoenix called Women's Empowerment in the Nineties. You're picturing a bunch of broads sitting in a circle, whimpering about low self-esteem and how to find the perfect mate, right?
I ask all my lovers to wear condoms during sex. When is the proper time to put on the protection? I enjoy mutual masturbation and performing oral sex (I break contact before ejaculation), but I'd prefer these activities sans rubber.--C. B., Chicago, Illinois.
The halls of the University of Chicago Law School are bottle-necked with delegates to the world's first Speech, Equality and Harm Conference. The participants file past a table set up by the ACLU--not the American Civil Liberties Union but an organization named Always Causing Legal Unrest. The group is selling buttons with such slogans as so many men, so little ammunition, dead men don't use porn and the best way to a man's heart is through his chest.
Recall, if you will, our not-so-popular position a couple years ago on the issue of date rape. We stated then that the statistics wreaking havoc on college campuses were questionable. We found it hard to believe that one in four female students was ravaged by a drunken, hormone-crazed frat boy who wouldn't take no for an answer. Within our pages, author Stephanie Gutmann raised an appropriately skeptical eyebrow at the Ms. magazine-funded research that was the source of these statistics.
It's been a grueling 14-hour day on the set of "The Coneheads." Suddenly, a strange sucking sound echoes off the walls. For the cast and crew it's the signal that they can go home--Dan Aykroyd is ripping the plastic cone off his head.
Benny Milligan saved a friend's life and went to jail for it. Milligan, a technician who worked for the Martin Marietta Corp. in New Orleans, was hiking with friends in central Tennessee three summers ago when his buddy James McElveen plunged 30 feet off a cliff. Milligan rushed his unconscious friend to a local hospital, but he worried that the critically injured man might be sent to another hospital because he had no health insurance. Milligan believed his Martin Marietta insurance coverage might save McElveen's life. When an admitting clerk asked for the friend's name, Milligan gave his own name and insurance account number. McElveen survived, but the ruse was discovered.
One Fact sets the U.S. apart from every other modern nation. Ours is the only country on the planet in which health care is a commercial enterprise and not a social-policy issue. There is no connection between our health delivery systems and public health. The questions of profit and loss ultimately determine how most health care is delivered.
Nobody ever said motherhood was easy. Tamara Davis was 24 years old in 1971, a farmer's daughter from Muskogee, Oklahoma, still a little dazzled by her life as a young wife in Phoenix. Then her marriage broke up. Tamara was disillusioned and anxious, but she wasn't alone. Not with three toddlers climbing all over her. "I took the kids everywhere, partly to keep an eye on them, but also because I needed them near me," she says. "Dawn, Sean and Shannon were the truest friends I had." Today, 22 years later, most of Tamara's motherly duties are done. Son Sean, 25, is a fashion model and father of a tyke--making Tamara a grandmother. More vital to us this month, her two daughters, Dawn and Shannon--still their mom's best pals and closest confidantes--grew up into beauties who look as good as Tamara did when she was their age. Remarkably, Tamara still looks as good as she did when she was their age. "People don't believe us when we say she's our mom," says Dawn, 26. Dawn lives, works and parties with Shannon, 24, and Tamara, who may be the only 46-year-old jewelry designer in the Southwest who still gets carded in bars. According to Mom, raising her photogenic brood alone was "difficult, but it kept us close. Being on our own is what made us a team." She could have remarried a dozen times over. There was no shortage of suitors: "Men from the ages of 25 to 70," Tamara says. "But if one of the girls wouldn't like one guy, the other didn't approve of the next. So I stayed single." And watched her daughters grow into young women. "Dawn is the sweet one, a real charmer," says Tamara, while "Shannon is the wildest and the wittiest--like Eddie Murphy if he were a white female." Still, it was Dawn who played the aggressor during the family's frequent outings at a Phoenix go-cart track. "Dawn and Shannon drove like maniacs," Tamara recalls with a grin. "Dawn once drove up behind my go-cart and smashed into me." Off the track, however, the family prospered. The furniture store Tamara ran paid for a house in Phoenix and an apartment in Dallas. Recently, after 20 years of running the store, she founded another family business where Shannon and Dawn now help their mom design and market her own line of costume jewelry. They plan to launch careers and families, too, but there's no hurry. "Maybe we've corrupted our mom," says Shannon, "but we're having a great time. She's not surprised by anything we do. She doesn't judge us, she just gives us the best thing in the world: unconditional love." The girls call her Momma at home but switch to Tamara for their nights out--to keep their secret. "We all love it when someone thinks we're girlfriends or three sisters," says Dawn. "But we won't let just anyone dance with our mom. Shannon and I have to OK him first." Asked whether her girls are overprotective, Tamara shrugs. "I don't mind. I'm not hellbent to get married after all these years, though I wouldn't mind having a boyfriend." Potential beaus beware: To win a date with Tamara, you'll have to go through Dawn and Shannon first.--Ralph Marino
At the age of 13, William Heirens received the following advice from his mother: "All sex is dirty. If you touch anyone, you get a disease." The year was 1941, the place, Chicago. Plenty of kids had heard the same warning. But in the mind of William Heirens, the words became part of a dark and complex fabric.
She was Beautiful and lithe, with soft skin the color of bread and eyes like green almonds. She had straight black hair that reached to her shoulders and an aura of antiquity that could just as well have been Indonesian as Andean. She was dressed with subtle taste: a lynx jacket, a raw-silk blouse with very delicate flowers, natural-linen trousers and shoes with a thin stripe the color of bougainvillea. This is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, I thought when I saw her pass by with the stealthy stride of a lioness as I waited in the check-in line for the plane to New York at the Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris. Like a supernatural apparition, she existed only for a moment before disappearing into the crowd in the terminal.
Forget Everything you've heard about wearing black in summer. It's a great color for heat. At least that's what Jeff Goldblum thinks, and he should know. As one of the stars of Steven Spielberg's Jurassic Park, Goldblum spent two weeks on a tropical island battling dinosaur while dressed all in black--jeans, shirt, leather jacket, socks, boots and wraparound sunglasses. In the book by Michael Crichton, Goldblum's character, mathematician Ian Malcolm, calls it "efficient radiation." "Besides, Malcolm doesn't want to think about what he's going to wear," says Goldblum. Off camera, the 6'4" actor takes a similar approach to fashion, preferring simple, comfortable suits in shades of black or gray. "I tend to lean toward classic styles," he says, adding that his favorite shops are Fred Segal and Maxfield on Los Angeles' Melrose Avenue. As for offering fashion advice to other tall guys, Goldblum recommends following your own instincts: "I don't believe there's good taste--only personal taste. The minute you start trying to do what's right, you usually end up looking wrong." Goldlum definitely looks right in the outfits we've chosen for this feature. So right, that "I kept the suit," he says. What's next for the actor? A starring role in Lush Life and a Showtime original co-starring Forest Whitaker and Kathy Baker. "I play a Greenwich Village jazz musician," says Goldblum, "so I'll probably be wearing some black."
Holly's first word was more. Her second word was titty. After my marriage to Jeanne broke up, I continued to be haunted by the memory of her nursing Holly with one breast while I suckled the other. It was one of the sweetest feelings of my life, and my heart would flash on that memory every time I witnessed Holly's childhood innocence fading away.
If Jennifer Lavoie's looks weren't quite so unforgettable, she could be an undercover cop. "I could do stings, drug busts, anything," she says. "I wouldn't be scared. I may be little, but I'm also a little crazy." Working in a clothing store, Jennifer has developed a mental radar for shoplifters. She has nabbed about 50 of them. "I'm always running down the aisles after somebody," she says with a laugh. An occasional fisherwoman, she's also landed her share of trout. "I just catch them," she says, wrinkling her nose. "I don't take them off the hook--that's a man's job."
After successfully defending his client in a lawsuit, the attorney handed him his bill. "You can pay me a thousand now," the lawyer said, "then eight hundred twelve a month for the next thirty-six months."
Normally I couldn't have made the tape that Saturday. Right there during the job interview a few weeks before, Frank, my soon-to-be boss, had said, "Rickey, is there anything about this job that you have a problem with?"
We may not like lawyers, but we certainly enjoy reading about them. That became clear beyond a reasonable doubt in 1987 with the publication of Scott Throw's critically acclaimed first novel, "Presumed Innocent," the main character of which, like its author, was a big-city prosecutor. The blockbuster movie version of the book opened around the time Turow's second novel, "Burden of Proof," took its place at the top of best-seller lists.
You will be tempted to defy riptides, wear cement flippers and swim less than 30 minutes after eating. But there's a better way to meet a hot lifeguard this summer. Six of the best are right here--women who can make you dizzy one minute and pull you out of a whirlpool the next. Molly Carter, for instance, guards a beach in California. "We have big beach breaks and a lot of rip currents," she says. "In the summer we average forty saves a day." Last year she saved a reluctant member of Germany's national water-polo team. "The guy was caught in a rip current and argued about it. He didn't want to be saved, especially by a woman." There was no shortage of willing rescuees in Bimini or at Zuma Beach and Malibu in California, where we met Molly and colleagues. In fact, every male swimmer we saw was splashing and waving frantically.
Playboy expands your purchasing power by providing a list of retailers and manufacturers you can contact for information on where to find this month's merchandise. To buy the apparel and equipment shown on pages 29, 30, 82--85, 116--119 and 157, check the listings below to find the stores nearest you.
These days, the sky's the limit when it comes to compactdisc storage. Manufacturers are going vertical with sculptural units that require only about a foot of floor space while holding upwards of 100 CDs. Some models, such as Atlantic's Tower Collection, offer add-on capabilities that allow you to build out horizontally as well as vertically, thus creating a CD cityscape that can stand alone or be attached to a wall and expand as your collection does. (Matte steel is the metal of choice for most CD high rises, and many require minor assembly.) And if you're into neon, LBL Lighting's Z rack, pictured below, includes a light strip that's available in seven colors--turquoise (shown), purple, blue, green, white, pink and red. We're sure struck by it.