Hollywood, California, is my spiritual hometown. I actually grew up in three other communities in California, but it hardly seems to matter which three. How could my heart take root anywhere under the tyranny of American public schooling?
I don’t have to work for a living. After my father died in December 1997, my family and I won a legal settlement.
The Blog About
Nothing: Sudheer of Hyderabad, India, is a big fan of Playboy and an
even bigger fan of Seinfeld. In this blog, he composes humorous
dialogues for the show’s characters.
Hit & Run: the official
blog of my other favorite magazine, Reason: Free Minds and Free
Markets; winner
of the 2005 Weblog Award for Best Group Blog; “the best
libertarian blog” according to the October 2005 issue of
Playboy.
Scoobie Davis Online: a self-described “filmmaker, surfer, and party crasher” in southern California. He’s also a Playboy fan, a left-leaning political gadfly, and a connoisseur of Jack T. Chick religious tracts.
The Search for
Health in Decadence: poetry and philosophical writings of Will, who has
engaged me in lengthy, good-natured debate through comments on my
blog.
Up the Tao Staircase: self-deprecating wit and wisdom from a Taoist perspective.
The Blank Slate: The Modern Denial of Human Nature by Steven
Pinker. With stylistic flair, a Harvard cognitive scientist
refutes myths about human nature underlying a multitude of political
beliefs—including many of those that would either favor or
oppose the sexual revolution.
God in Popular Culture by Andrew M. Greeley. A liberal Catholic
priest sees quasi-Christian messages of grace abounding in the
allegedly soulless realm of commercial pop culture. For all I know,
Greeley is not necessarily a Playboy fan. But his
interpretation of Madonna’s song “Like a Virgin”—more plausible than the interpretation in Reservoir Dogs—has
influenced my impression of Playboy. (In case anyone wonders, my religious heritage is German-Hungarian Lutheran on my father’s side and Anglo-Scots-Irish secularist on my mother’s.)
Last night, I spotted an attractive young woman at the bar of my neighborhood Italian restaurant. Since she looked vaguely familiar, I asked her if she was a former employee of that restaurant. She replied that she wasn’t, but that I may have seen her at the “sports bar” where she formerly worked. With encouragement from her friend, she soon confessed that “sports bar” was a euphemism for Hooters. How cute: she was a little bit shy about that item on her résumé.
Americans of some political stripes would see rhetorical opportunity in her shyness. Family-values conservatives like Shmuley Boteach would call it the voice of conscience and self-respect. Left-wing utopians like Pamela Paul and Ariel Levy might suggest that The System is using her by making her ambivalent about her own sexuality. In my view, both sides oversimplify the rich bundle of emotions that drive human sexuality. For Halloween the night before, I had gone to the neighborhood Hooters for the employee costume contest. (As the script of Mean Girls and the text of Miss October 2005’s layout[not work-safe] both attest, decent women have positive sanction to dress sluttily that one day of the year.) Part of the fun was observing my own mild twinges of shame to be seen leering at the scantily-clad babes—which I interpreted as the moral equivalent of the embarrassment some of us feel when first stepping onto a dance floor. Political perspectives that can’t understand these nuanced pleasures don’t deserve our endorsement.
As last night’s conversation unfolded, it turned out that I had never been to the particular Hooters where she had worked. Women have a funny way of looking familiar just when you get interested in talking to them, don’t they?