Monday, November 28, 2005

Well, I know that a lot of American companies have fallen upon hard times. GM has announced that it is going to have to cut at least 30,000 manufacturing jobs, Merck has announced that it is looking at some subastantial layoffs, and even Krispy Kreme has been forced to recently announce profit shortfalls and declining stock prices. The economy is struggling a bit, for sure, but can someone tell me what kind of a world we're living in when Playboy starts to suffer from declining profits? (last quarter Playboy's publishing revenues sank by 8%)
I mean, it's Playboy! I recognize the fact that the adult entertainment industry has grown exponentially since it's inception in 1953, and I also recognize the fact that the Playboy magazine has probably suffered considerably against competition provided by adult-themed websites (sexually-oriented sites accounting for 40% of all web traffic by some estimates), but isn't their a place in our... ummm... hearts for Playboy?
Playboy seems pretty tame in comparison to other forms of adult entertainment (I'm struggling to avoid using the word pornography over and over in this blog), but I think that's part of it's charm. Playboy has always been the magazine that your mom would giggle about upon finding in your room. Hustler or other magazines would get you the wrath of god speech, an extended lecture upon religion, ethics, and the objectification of women as well as sidelong, suspicious glances from female members of your family for days, if not weeks. Playboy got a giggle and the "shame on you" comment. Somehow, it's always just seems pretty harmless. Some of our favorite movie stars and entertainers have appeared in Playboy (everyone from Madonna to Sophia Loren to pro wrestling's China), and Hugh Hefner is treated more like a national icon than the world's most famous porn peddler.
I don't know- call me sentimental, but it just bothers me to see Playboy struggling after it's given us all so much. I remember looking at my first Playboy with a bunch of kids in my athletics class in sixth grade when some kid found an issue under the bleachers of our middle school. We giggled and looked at the pictures and read the cartoons and wondered, awestruck, at the pictures of naked women. I'm not sure what happened to that particular issue, but if I had to guess, I'd say that it was probably torn apart in the kind of feeding frenzy that could only be produced by the hormones of junior high boys.
I'm not sure what the point of this particular entry is, except to say- men (and women, who are so inclined), GO OUT AND BUY YOURSELVES A PLAYBOY!!! The company needs you, and god knows you owe them something for their hard years of work and determination in putting male fantasies into print. Buying an issue of Playboy is not only good for the economy, but it's good for America, damnit!!! Those bunnies need our help!!!

12 comments:

CrackBass said...

done and done. I can only say i am quite upset that the link led us to an article about playboy, and not to pictures of playmates.

The League said...

And just today I was wondering what to get you for Christmas...

Well, it is the gift that keeps on giving.

Anonymous said...

I gotta call B.S. on the notion that back in the day the Kare Bear would just giggle and say shame on you upon finding of a nudy mag. She would have grounded your butt and had you spending long evenings on Pastor John's couch. The thought of an issue of Hustler or Jugs being found inside the Steans domain would have brought absolute utter chaos. You would have been banned from any movies rated over G until at least you were in college. Don't get me wrong, Mrs. Steans was and is a cool cat, and I appreciate her more than anybody (for all the crap she put up with from me), but I do believe you are talking out of your ass Steanso and waxing a tad bit too nostalgic.

Of course, the irony about it is that nowadays I have no doubt that she is buying those very same mags by the crate-full and mailing them to your house in an effort to reaffirm your heterosexuality and inspire you to procreate.

Peabo

The League said...

I gotta say, I think Peabo has a good point here. KareBear always had a hair-trigger when it came to anything above a PG-level at Casa de Steans.

I have no real recollection of any nudie mags being in our house for fear that at any moment they'd be discovered. Part of the problem was that you never really knew when you were going to come home and find KareBear had found some convenient excuse to "clean" your room or "rearrange" your belongings.

I am completely impressed that Peabo correctly identified the path KareBear would have insisted upon had such an item surfaced in our house.

KareBear did a phenomenal job with her two boys, but I gotta say we knew exactly where the boundary lines were, and what happened when you stepped over that line. Sometimes we were lucky enough to find a new boundary that we didn't even know existed thanks to Peabo just being Peabo.

Steanso said...

I don't know what either of you two jackasses are talking about. I remember a steady stream of obscenities flowing freely out of Peabo's mouth many a time at the Steans Ranch, and I only remember one time when Karebear got too upset (and that one time involved some explicit and graphic storytelling during a ride in the car on Peabo's part). As for Roundball- I think he had a knack for leaving some contraband in ridiculously exposed places.

Maybe I'm being a little nostalgic, but you guys are significantly underestimating how far you (and we) pushed the limits. If you have doubts, I'm prettu sure that there are still videotapes at my folks house that will readily lend evidence to my argument regarding your childhood depravity...

The League said...

I don't think my worn out copy of "Tron" lends itself to any childhood depravity.

Now that homemade tape of you and Reedo in: "Naked Star Trek"... Remind me, why did Spock have to have clothespins clipped to his buttocks?

The League said...

On a second reading: I honestly don't remember any contraband being left out as I never had any contraband in the house (or anywhere else). And if you're referring to a pack of cigarettes I threw in my drawer when I was in COLLEGE, then I'm not sure that counts as contraband. I never knowingly brought anything into our house because I knew what would happen if I did.

Yes, Peabo and I both freely pushed the limits of the spoken word while riding around in the GMC conversion van, but that was not the same as having a stack of dirty magazines for her to uncover beneath my mattress. For God's sake, Mom thought the girls in my X-Men comics were dressed a little skimpy. But it was Dad who pitched a fit about the racy "Calvin Klein" ads in my Rolling Stone amagazines and threatened to cancel my subscription.

Anonymous said...

I think the closest thing to smut ever found at the Pencewood Porn Palace, aka the Steans Ranch, was one of the Volumes of Elf Quest where comic book elves engaged in an orgy.

That right there probably tells all the readers volumes about the dating succes we all had in high school. I would rag on you guys more for it, but my gay ass read it as well. Pretty tame stuff considering what kids have access to now via the internet.

As for any alleged foul mouth tirades, I must strongly protest. Don't get me wrong, I may have double entendre'd and dangled a few scandalous meteaphors, but you make it sound like I was Richard Pryor dropping F bombs at the drop of a hat. I wasn't that bad at all.

Plus somebody had to push the envelope in that house, and Lord knows it wasn't going to be either of you 2 Nancy boys.

lee said...

Hilarious. This is truly the finest post yet by Steanso. The chain of commentary is also priceless. I personally recall no porn whatsoever in the little blue house on Pencewood. Clean as the driven snow, the place was...My over riding memory of the place is an infinite supply of Mug rootbeer, Uncle John's Bathroom Reader in the crapper, and a steady stream of Jane's Addiction and Art of Noise songs eminating from the upstairs bedrooms.

The League said...

I just want to confirm for Lee that the "Uncle John's" volumes continue to live on at League HQ, as do Root Beer and the occasional Jane's Addiction album. Yes, we had to be very careful that Mom and Dad never read ElfQuest Book 4, in which there IS an orgy, but not a single naughty bit is scene (thanks to conveniently drifting bits of smoke, well placed shadows, etc...).

That said, I recall more than once Peabo's monologues being cut off mid-stream by Mama Steans with a firm "That's enough." What Peabo was sharing, I do not recall.

Only in retrospect do I realize that we had "strict" parents. Now, keep in mind, Steanso got suspended and got no more than a slap on the wrist. So you never really knew where the lines were drawn.

Anonymous said...

Don't forget the pretzels. Lots of Bavarian dutch style pretzels. And plenty of Crystal Light to wash it down with when the Mug ran out.

And what's this talk of Steanso suspended. Suspended ? Steanso you rebel bastard, you ! Next thing you know you're going to tell me you and your cohorts smuggled alcohol onto the bus of middle school band trips only to be foiled by the rigid hand of band justice, Sweet Sideburns LaCour.

Okay, I have now offically hijacked this thread down memory lane. To quote my old friend and second mom: "That's enough Peabo"

Cobra Kai Dojo said...

Truly inspiring thread...

KareBear allowed the Nothing's Shocking album cover in the house?

You can't blame Steans for the suspension. (This would be the Youth in Government state meet in '90, right???)
2 words: Hyun Shin
4 more words: hockey bag o' liquor

Think that sums it up right there.

Jason Steans escaped the mercurial wrath of Sideburns Lacour (wasn't he a fur trader with Champlain in the 1600s?). No whiskey for Steans on middle school band trips.

And to keep the record straight it was Stephanie "Creepy" Crawley who foiled the ne-er-dowells, and narc-ed on the Future Alcoholics of America (FAA), not LaCour.
If she were in Oz, she'd have a shiv protruding from one kidney or t'other. A plague o' both her houses.

Sweep the Leg,
Palka