Shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker and tits are the seven words that landed comedian George Carlin in the Supreme Court in 1978. As Howard Stern can no doubt tell you, the High Court upheld the FCC's right to ban these words. Ever since, Carlin has continued to push the boundaries of comedy and culture. "I have been doing this a long time, and nobody has been this unedited, unguarded," says David Hochman, who conducted this month's Playboy Interview with Carlin. "He was funny, intense and thoughtful. He is obsessed with ideas. And in him you see that fine line between madness and genius." Little-known fact: Carlin's very first comedy album—recorded in 1960 with his original partner, Jack Burns—was called Burns and Carlin at the Playboy Club Tonight. Welcome back, motherfucker.
Every man likes a girl who'll take it off, but let's not forget the virtues of putting it on. "I like anything having to do with costumes," says swimsuit and lingerie model Rebecca Mary. "I was in the opening scene of What Women Want as a burlesque dancer with a sequined outfit and big feathers in my hair. I always dress sexy for Halloween—the past two years I was a pirate. If I'm going to have a costume hanging in my closet, it might as well be something hot. Maybe I'll wear it again." Makes sense—after all, what good is trick-or-treating if you're not going to keep the booty? Rebecca's acting résumé also includes the film Town & Country, with Warren Beatty ("God, he was hot"), and skits on The Man Show. "We did a spoof of Hooters restaurant called Beavers," she recalls. "We played waitresses in little tank tops with no bottoms. We had on skin-colored shorts, but they blurred them so that on TV it looked like we were nude down there." Her real dramatic calling, though, might be that of scream queen. "I do have a set of lungs on me," she says. "People don't believe how loud I can scream, especially when I'm pissed." Anything but shy, Rebecca prides herself on her approachability and takes the time to respond to fan e-mail from visitors to Rebeccamary.com. "Some girls have diva attitude without diva status," she says. "I'm a fun, genuine person. I'll talk with everybody."
She was the sex bomb even the Jazz Age couldn't handle. Her name may not be as recognizable as Marilyn or Brigitte, but Louise Brooks's cultural significance is hard to overstate. The model for the flapper ideal (her famous bob was the official party-girl cut of the day), Brooks was a pioneering actress and a free spirit brimming with appetites and attitude. While still a teenager Brooks made a splash as a featured girl in the Ziegfeld Follies. By 1925 she was in with Manhattan's smart set—celebrity intellectuals such as Robert Benchley and H.L. Mencken—while romancing Charlie Chaplin; by 1926 she was a Hollywood star. In 1928, as the talkie era loomed, Paramount denied Brooks a raise, and she walked. In Germany, she starred as the antihero Lulu in director G.W. Pabst's Pandora's Box. The film was not a success in its day but is now considered a cult classic of the silent era, and her turn a landmark performance. When she refused to dub a silent she'd made, The Canary Murder Case, she was blackballed in Hollywood for her insolence. She made two more films in Europe (including Diary of a Lost Girl, another Pabst project), after which her career was effectively over, a casualty of her refusal to play by anyone's rules. Brooks returned to movies later in life as a critic, and a 1979 New Yorker profile ("The Girl in the Black Helmet") ignited interest in her legacy. The collection of essays she published three years before her death in 1985, Lulu in Hollywood, is a sacred text of Tinseltown lore. Recently, fabled nude photos of her (left) have turned up, and experts we consulted say they're legit. Digital prints of the pictures are going for about $10 on eBay.
Settle in Behind the leather-wrapped wheel of Bentley's new Continental Flying Spur, the fastest production sedan ever to roll out of a showroom. When you touch the start button, the six-liter, 552 bhp twin turbo W-12 engine comes to life. Put your fingers on the wheel-mounted paddle shifters. First gear: The three-ton sedan accelerates like an exotic two-seater. Second gear: You hit 60 miles an hour in 4.9 seconds. Third: "Don't worry, honey. I promise we won't get a ticket." Fourth and fifth: When you hit 150 miles an hour, computer-controlled air springs lower the car for perfect high-speed control. Sixth: Surrounded by buttery leather and polished burl walnut, you feel like you're sitting in a London saloon as you top out at 195 (make that 200 on a slight downhill). Speed limits aside, you could probably beat a private jet from New York to Boston, door to door. The Bentley's going for $164,990 (bentleymotors.com). Last we looked, that's considerably less than a Gulfstream G4.
When You Don't know where you are, a GPS system will tell you where to go, but when you already have your bearings, it just kind of sits there. That is, unless you have the handheld TomTom GO 700 ($900, tomtom.com), which, thanks to built-in Bluetooth, also acts as a hands-free speaker for your cell phone. A tap on the screen lets you answer calls and voice-dial so you can keep your eyes on the road. And speaking of easy on the eyes, we like the intuitive perspective view Tom Tom offers more than the overhead angle most other systems provide.
For Precision Timekeeping the Swiss have nothing on the cesium atom, which reliably oscillates 9,192,631,770 times a second–the basis of the flabbergasting accuracy of atomic clocks. Casio's new line of Oceanus watches ($350 to $600, casio.com) syncs with the atomic clock at the National Institute of Standards and Technology via radio signals, meaning you get better accuracy than with a Swiss movement at a fraction of the cost. Plus, it uses solar power to keep on ticking; even if you leave one in a drawer for a year, as soon as it hits the light you'll be working off the same time NASA uses for a shuttle launch.
"My Perfect Day would take place on Bora-Bora, in French Polynesia," says the Motley Crue drummer and star of NBC's Tommy Lee Goes to College. "I'd wake up in a hotel room on stilts over water and jump in for a swim. After that I'd have a cappuccino with a shot of Jägermeister, which tastes like Irish coffee, and puff on a cigarette–a hearty breakfast indeed. Then a dark, exotic-looking girl would show up, an Adriana Lima or Salma Hayek type with long hair and gorgeous almond-shaped eyes. We'd get a morning buzz from peach bellinis and mimosas and play around. Playing could be fucking, writing music or cruising on a boat. We'd go up to the island's highest peak and hang glide down to the beach so we could feel like birds coasting along. For dinner we'd go to Bloody Mary's, a Bora-Bora spot that's like a five-star joint but you don't have to wear shoes, because there's sand on the floor. The rest of the evening I'd chill and listen to Bob Marley and maybe write a song or two."
If You Want Your Stereo to sound better, you break it up. You get a separate preamp and power amp, or you get monoblocks, discrete amps dedicated to each speaker. If you're Krell Audio, you take it even further. Krell split the monoblock in two, launching the Evolution One monoblock power amp ($50,000) and Evolution Two monoblock preamp ($40,000), which isolate the power supplies from the electronics for greater sonic purity. That means you need all four boxes below to power one speaker, and if you want stereo, you'll need to scrape up another $90,000. Your music, however, will sound the way Angelina Jolie looks. Drool at krellonline.com.
A Few Facts about vintage champagne: (1) Less than a quarter of the bubbly produced in France is deemed good enough to be called vintage. (2) A vintage bottle will have a year on it (nonvintages are blends of several years). (3) Whenever Krug releases a new vintage, such as the 1990 pictured here ($240), it's a good time to stop by a fine wine shop. Krug's latest is flowery, crisp and perfectly balanced—vintage champagne like you read about (say, right now). Should you need to take tasting notes, pick up the Krug by Omas fountain pen, made of sterling and retired Krug barrels ($990, omas.com).
We've always said we'd consider carrying a laptop fulltime when we couldn't tell if it was in our bag or not. Thanks to Toshiba's new Libretto U100 ($2,100, toshiba.com), we're considering it. Just 2.1 pounds and the size of a small hardcover book, the tiny tapper packs a 1.2-gigahertz Pentium M processor, a 60-gigabyte hard drive, an improbably satisfying 7.2-inch screen, Wi-Fi and Bluetooth. All that's missing is a note to remind you that your laptop's in your bag.
"We didn't think it would ever really work," says a rep from the British design firm Suck UK about its Glow Brick ($45, gnr8.biz). But it did. What you see here is a real lightbulb filled with glow-in-the-dark pigment and suspended in a five-and-a-half-inch-tall acrylic brick. The lamp soaks up the sun all day and will light up your life for five hours after dark—no electricity necessary.
This past weekend a group of friends and I went to Cancún. One evening we stumbled into a strip club and found that the dancers there smelled exactly like the strippers back in the States. In fact, the women at clubs in Nevada and California all seem to wear the same perfume. It's a scent I've never smelled on a woman I've dated. Is there a secret combination of oils and pheromones that strippers use to separate men from their money?—T.F., San Luis Obispo, California
The World Bank isn't really a bank. You can't get an account or a loan there unless you are a country. But not every country qualifies—you must be a poor country. In that sense the designation world bank is a misnomer. It also isn't the world's bank in other important ways. The United States, the bank's major shareholder, customarily appoints its all-powerful chief executive officer, most recently naming Paul Wolfowitz, former deputy secretary of defense, to the post. And the U.S. Treasury, State Department and White House—all situated a few blocks from World Bank headquarters—often use the bank to reward America's allies and penalize its adversaries. When the Soviet Union was an adversary, it had no relationship with the bank. After Communism collapsed, Russia and its former satellites were immediately invited to become shareholders, thus gaining access to significant financial support. Cuba gets nothing from the World Bank, but the Palestinian Authority receives plenty of support without even being a country.
In his book Confessions of an Economic Hit Man, John Perkins reveals the sinister side of foreign-aid packages. He worked for many years at a U.S.-based engineering firm, using his economics expertise to help secure building contracts from international aid agencies, including the World Bank. We asked him about that process—and how corporations twist it to their advantage.
Voters in Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Ecuador, Uruguay and Venezuela elected presidents who ran on nationalistic, anti-U.S.-corporation platforms. Once in office, several of these presidents began to back down. Why? "Every one of those men," Perkins says, "remembers what happened to other Latin leaders who opposed the U.S.: Arbenz of Guatemala, Allende of Chile, Roldós of Ecuador and Torrijos and Noriega of Panama were each overthrown by CIA-sanctioned coups, assassinated, invaded or imprisoned. You can be a person of great integrity, but once in power you will be visited and reminded of all those before you who have gone down. You will be reminded especially of Noriega. He did not die a martyr. Instead he was captured and thrown into a U.S. prison, where he still rots. If this isn't enough to convince you, you might be kidnapped or sequestered like Aristide of Haiti and Chavez of Venezuela—feel the barrel of a gun against your temple, be reminded you have children."
Lewis Black Currently:The Daily Show's senior curmudgeon. Tragicomedy: Gave up career as a serious playwright when he realized there was more money in telling people what pisses him off. Mad as hell about: Everything, including you, you moron. Carlinesque trait: Unhinged delivery makes well-crafted, often brainy material seem like extemporaneous bitching.
For some, witchcraft is what happens when Nicole Kidman wiggles her nose; for others, it's a figment of hysterical imaginations in an Arthur Miller play. For Fiona Horne—author, actress and witch—Wicca, or witchcraft, is a life-affirming spiritual path. "I'm a spiritual person," says Fiona. "What defines my practice is honoring nature as sacred, recognizing both a god and a goddess. The spells I perform promote a positive approach to living." The Australian beauty became a witch as a teenager and continued practicing through the years she sang with the techno-rock band Def FX. She emerged from the broom closet in 1998 when her band broke up and she decided to write the first of her six books on witchcraft. She's a gentle advocate of her beliefs. "I would never say to anyone, 'I have all the answers,' because I don't," she explains. "But I'll say, 'Look over here. There's a nice view you might enjoy. Why not stay and look awhile?'"
It's your 12th birthday and you're halfway through your fifth O'Doul's. You're keeping score, kneeling on the stool beneath the blackboard, ready to dodge any dart that bounces off the wire. At Duffy's, the bar is also the front desk. Your father sits there, telling stories. He's the only local in a crowd of expats, and they all listen to him. "Washington," he says. "Supreme Court. The World Series of lawyers. I kicked ass." "Cassius Clay," he says. "KO'd Coopman in five. I was there. Ringside." "Raúl Julia," he says. "We sang at the Chicken Inn. The two of us. Calypso. Before he was famous. And then he died." He always bows his head after Raúl Julia. He stretches his thumb and index and cups his forehead. His hand shields his face like a visor. He points at a soggy San Juan Star headline. Any headline. "This," he says, "is why Puerto Rico should be a state." He's got a winner on the dartboard, but if no one tells him he's up, he'll keep talking all night. You know he'll keep talking all night.
Rodney Dangerfield is dead, but the torch has been passed. Now it's video games that don't get no respect. Trust us: We're intelligent, lives-having adults, and frankly, offering apologies for our love of video gaming is getting old. As anybody with a game system can tell you (and that's almost anyone these days), the video game medium is every bit as wonderful and every bit as horrible as books, movies and TV.
Video games, once the chunky band-camp dweebs of the entertainment world, have done some fast growing up in the past decade—methodically hitting the gym, sneaking off for spectacular cosmetic surgery and hanging out more and more with the Hollywood It list. Of course Hollywood and video games have been buddies since the Atari 2600, but we've gone from accepting a featureless stick man as Indiana Jones to knowing that every popcorn movie that goes more than 20 eph (explosions per hour) will have a game tie-in. We've had great games from awful movies (Chronicles of Riddick), and vice versa (Enter the Matrix), and seen the stakes for original games rise as top-tier Hollywood talent creates new material. Screenwriter John Milius (Apocalypse Now) penned the dialogue for Medal of Honor: European Assault, and John Singleton helmed the upcoming game Fear and Respect, which stars Snoop Dogg. In 2006 John Woo will bring his ultrakinetic style to Stranglehold, along with a jaw-dropping virtual likeness of Chow Yun-Fat as Inspector Tequila. That's right, the unofficial sequel to Hard-Boiled will be a game, not a movie. Thus far Hollywood has had a less than stellar track record going from game to movie (see Super Mario Bros, and House of the Dead). But as interactive production values rise, game writing improves and plots thicken, leaving Hollywood with clearer blueprints to work with and making us cautiously hopeful for coming adaptations of Doom (starring the Rock), Silent Hill (directed by Christophe Gans), Dead or Alive (directed by Cory Yuen) and Halo.
• Stickball. Realistic pro sports games are fine, but what of classic street games? Stickball places the player in the streets of midcentury Brooklyn to do battle. Cars provide bloody baserunning challenges, and foul balls bounce down alleyways littered with broken glass.
Time was, city planning and farm management were the stuff of simulation games. Times have changed. In The Movies (Activision, PS2, Xbox) you build and run a studio from the silent era up through Michael Bay, managing everything from the lives of your stars to film production and marketing. In a stroke of genius the game makes it easy to create full-length, exportable animated films with little effort. But not all games worry about such petty concerns as plot or goals. Some of the most interesting simulators just give players an empty canvas and stand back. Second Life (Linden Lab, Mac, PC) lets you create a virtual person, then live life online with thousands of other people's creations. Open-ended tools let users make nearly anything—from homes that mimic the effects of schizophrenia to schools of autonomous fish and theaters that stream real-world indie films. Then there's the online Sociolotron, a.k.a. Disneyland for perverts. Users come for the hard-core sim sex but stay for the venereal diseases, rampant crime and blood- and semen-worshipping religions. Just remember, that nubile young thing is probably an overweight mouth breather who lives in his mother's basement. The most anticipated sim game on the horizon, though, is Spore (Electronic Arts, PC). Wil Wright, the guy who made living itself a hobby with The Sims, has finally made a game that's literally about everything. Use evolution to create a food chain one cell at a time, building up to global and galactic conquest. Do we still call it simulation if it hasn't happened yet?
The hardware side of the video game business is unforgiving, as anyone with a console from (or stock in) Atari or Sega can tell you. In 2001 Microsoft went up against Sony's seemingly unstoppable PlayStation line and muscled its way into the market through a combination of great product and rampant spending. The Xbox was the most powerful game console ever made, sporting a built-in hard drive and Ethernet port, both firsts. It didn't come close to dethroning Sony in the first go-round, but it did what mattered—establishing credibility with gamers. Welcome to round two. Microsoft's brand-new Xbox 360 is due sometime this November, well before next-generation machines from Sony and Nintendo (both expected in 2006). In almost an exact inverse of the previous scenario, Sony will have a more powerful console coming out later, while Microsoft reaps the benefits of getting to market first. Nintendo, as always, is concentrating on fun; the company seems happy to make scads of cash in third place and doesn't seem too bothered with what its behemoth brethren are up to. Since this kind of intense competition for market share drives major technology innovation while forcing prices down (Sony and Microsoft will probably both sell their new machines at a loss), this generation will give consumers absolutely ridiculous bang for the buck—which isn't to say the machines will be cheap. You'll still likely have to drop between $300 and $500 to pick up one of Sony's or Microsoft's new systems in the first year or two after their respective releases. Here's how they stack up as of now.
Twilight dissolves over the Alabama pinewoods. I wheel our third-rate motor home into the gravel parking lot outside Talladega Superspeedway and barrel toward where I imagine the infield to be–the site, legend has it, of an ancient Indian burial ground. It's also the biggest infield in all of NASCAR, a place whose atmosphere my friend Boudreaux, a great American poet, will later describe as a cross between Mardi Gras and a National Scout Jamboree, as administered by the Italian post office.
<p>Amanda Paige of the University of Virginia is pondering the subject of her thesis with an attitude that is anything but cavalier. "I think I'm going to write mine about artificial reproductive technology and how it's changing family dynamics," says the brainy 21-year-old sociology major. "Now a couple can have a baby who has many parents. Who's really the parent—the egg donor, the person who's raising it or the person who carried it? It's really interesting." Interesting indeed, especially when these matters are being weighed by someone who can be as effervescent as Kate Hudson with puppies. But it's easy to see where Amanda gets her serious side: Her dad is a cardiologist, and her mom's a nurse. Was there ever any pressure to follow in their footsteps? "My parents never encouraged me to be a doctor, because my dad worked such crazy hours," she says. "My mom wanted me to be a nurse, but I hate hospitals and blood." But Miss October may be willing to play the part on Halloween, one of her favorite holidays. "It's a way of dressing slutty without getting in trouble," she grins, "so I dress sexier. I was a Greek goddess and a sailor girl. This year I want to wear a little Goldilocks outfit with sequins, like Britney Spears did once. Hey, you've got to get attention somehow!"</p>
A middle-aged couple had two stunningly beautiful daughters. The couple decided to try one last time for the son they'd always wanted. After a few months of attempting to conceive, the wife became pregnant. She delivered a healthy baby boy nine months later. The joyful father rushed into the nursery to see his new son. He was horrified to find the ugliest child he had ever laid eyes on. He told his wife, "Look at the two beautiful daughters I fathered. There's no way that's my son. Have you been fooling around on me?"
You made your move, and now she's making hers. She says she's freshening up? That's code for checking out your bathroom. The money you spent on dinner will be a wash if she doesn't like what she sees in your medicine cabinet. After all, she has groomed and waxed herself to perfection. If she can't be sure that you're taking care of your body, how will she know you can take care of hers? Fortunately we've assembled products here that will allow you to take advantage of advances in men's grooming without making your bathroom look as though it belongs in a sorority house. A few tips: Keep the Astroglide in the nightstand drawer. Also, soap is a dirty four-letter word; swap the moisture-stripping mainstay for a body wash that conditions as it cleans. Do the same with old-fashioned shaving cream. Spend more time on looking and feeling good and she'll take her walk of shame to the serenade of the guilt birds singing your praises.
Year after year, colleges have raised enrollment standards, and nowadays the competition is keen. The Barbie-esque sorority girl attending school for an MRS degree is a relic of a bygone era; the dolls you meet on campus this century all have functioning brains. The girls of the Pac 10 are scholars; they are studying to become lawyers, surgeons, engineers and business executives. Precocious Layla Andrew (page 129) will even graduate from the University of Arizona before she sees her 20th birthday. We asked the most engrossing of these students to put down their books, hair and inhibitions and step before our cameras. Having seen the results of this Pac 10 shoot, we'll give every college-bound senior Horace Greeley's famous advice: "Go west, young man." The study dates there will surely stimulate more than your mind.
Below is 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 33, 37-40, 110-115, 116-117 and 164-165, check the listings below to find the stores nearest you.
When at the Circus Maximus, do as the Romans do. When at the Talladega Superspeedway, grab a beer, crank up some Skynyrd and watch a bow tie draft a blue oval until the lead car gets loose and causes the Big One. That is, once you've studied up on NASCAR track speak and learned enough to lose your rookie stripe.
First he earned his satirical stripes as a globe-trotting correspondent for Comedy Central's The Daily Show. Now Stephen Colbert is repaying that debt by stabbing Jon Stewart and company in the back. "That show is so done," says Colbert. "It's had a good run, but there's a new sheriff in town." Starting October 17, the 41-year-old comedian assumes the anchor's chair on The Colbert Report, a Comedy Central series that will air right after The Daily Show. The new program will be a parody of—and a loving tribute to—the nightly shout-fests that have become the wallpaper of cable TV news. "Bill O'Reilly's got a real simplicity that I admire," Colbert says, sizing up his rivals. "I like the cut of Anderson Cooper's suit, and I'm a huge Stone Phillips fan, for his neck." A veteran of the Chicago improv circuit, Colbert briefly worked as an on-air personality for ABC's Good Morning America before landing at The Daily Show. Now, in an era when partisan shills and former male escorts have been caught trying to insinuate themselves into journalism, he explains that there couldn't be a better time to launch his show, "because we're not really broadcast journalists." Says Colbert, "Fraudulence seems to be the coin of the realm, and we've got it in spades."
Radio in America is fucking dead," proclaims Adam Curry between sips of scotch and soda by the pool at the Beverly Hills Hotel. "Commercial FM and AM have become corporate wastelands. Gone are the days when a DJ would discover a hot new band, then lock himself in the booth and scream, 'Damn it, I'm gonna keep playing this record until you love it as much as I do!'" After first and second acts as one of MTV's star VJs (who famously quit on the air in 1995) and an Internet entrepreneur, Curry, 41, is now known as the Podfather thanks to the pioneering role he's played in developing the Internet audio phenomenon known as podcasting. Easy and cheap to produce, podcasts are radio shows recorded in MP3 format and posted on the web by, well, anyone. Their content can (and does) consist of anything from comedy to music to soundscapes from remote places. And with no FCC oversight, nothing can stop those who want to create X-rated diaries or naughty bedtime stories. Curry helped create a program called iPodder that allows users to subscribe to podcasts they like and have new episodes automatically downloaded onto their MP3 players. His own podcast, Daily Source Code, became an instant online hit in 2004. Last May he began hosting a new all-podcast program on Sirius satellite radio featuring his picks for the best in homegrown audio. His new project, Podshow.com, will help creative minds "produce, post, distribute and market" their programs. Apple's decision to include podcast features in iTunes is one of many promising signs for podcasters, indicating that Curry may once again be on the winning track. "People are starved for good audio experiences," he says. "We're going to deliver them."
Playboy (ISSN 0032-1478), October 2005, volume 52, number 10. Published monthly by Playboy in national and regional editions, Playboy, 680 North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago, Illinois 60611. Periodicals postage paid at Chicago, Illinois and at additional mailing offices. Canada Post Canadian Publications Mail Sales Product Agreement No. 40035534. Subscriptions: in the U.S., $29.97 for 12 issues. Postmaster: Send address change to Playboy, P.O. Box 2007, Harlan, Iowa 51537-4007. For subscription-related questions, call 800-999-4438, or e-mail email@example.com.
The Girls Next Door—Holly, Bridget and Kendra, Hef's Triumvirate of Girlfriends, are the stars of this hot new reality series on the E! network. Our uninhibited pictorial has a huge advantage over the Boob Tube: Nothing is blurred out.