Hustle and Flow

Posted by E

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Alright, confession time. It's not entirely a confession of my own. It's partly calling somebody out confessionally, but hey, it's only a means to an end. What am I driving at? Simple, my roommate subscribes to nudie magazines.

Now don't get me wrong, this isn't the rough and tumble shit like Nugget or Swank International, he favors the more high class joints. The big three, if you will, Playboy, Penthouse and Hustler.

This doesn't bother me. They're just magazines. And trust me, if you've been reading my stuff for awhile, you probably assume (and rightly so) that I'm not the puritanical, easy to offend type.

So whatever. Naked chicks. Woo hoo.

In my own twisted way, I have to admit I kind of like it. I will occasionally find one sitting on the counter in the bathroom. If I'm making an excursion that will last for more than a few seconds, I have zero issue with picking one of those babies up and flipping through it.

You'll probably call me a liar, but scout's honor, I don't really care about looking at the ladies. This is the 21st century. Finding naked chicks to ogle at in this day and age is similar to trying to find sand in a desert. The fact is, they're everywhere. And from what the advertisements tell me, all of them, from the hottest and dirtiest to oldest and most handicapped, ALL OF THEM want ME.

But truth be told, there's something nice about the tangibility of a magazine. If nothing else, it's a trip into my nostalgiac past. The first magazine of the sort I ever saw was a Playboy. The first I ever bought as a teen was a Hustler. In reality, I have a long and storied past with the things, though my interest waned somewhere around 15 years ago.

The fun for me comes from just looking at the magazines objectively.

Take Playboy. That's the classy one. You flip through a Playboy and those ladies are airbrushed to the nth degree. You'll find interviews with big name celebrities and an air of social acceptance all around. Big name companies pick up advertising. The writing, while sometimes a tad risque, tends to stray from too much controversy. You get the feeling that Playboy is a career stepping stone for many people.

Next you've got Penthouse. The ladies in Penthouse...well, they're generally second tier. Maybe not perfect, but never ugly. They're either really trying to make their way or they're at the beginning of their career's long descent. And they love showing you their vag. They spread it just a bit so you can get a good shot of what they're packing. Penthouse is more willing to tackle topical interests and is not afraid to push a little dirt in your face to make a point. Some of the bigger advertisers are there, but you start to move into the smuttier advertisements by the time you're through.

And then there's Hustler. That's where the ladies with the glazed eyes show up. The ones that look like they're doing this photo spread for $50 bucks and a bottle of bourbon. These women will spread their cavernous genitals in a disturbing impression of the grand canyon, all the time staring at you with a vacant glare. Frankly, many of them frighten me.

But that's the beauty of Hustler. Larry Flynt knows he's peddling trash and he's not afraid to point it out at every conceivable moment. The entire magazine is incredibly low-brow, from the sex comics to the monthly Beaver Hunt. But the saving grace? The writing. Flynt is an ardent defender of first amendment rights, and his writers are encouraged to push boundaries, to say what people aren't saying and to fly straight into the face of decency.

Truth be told, as an aspiring writer, of the three I've listed above, Hustler would by far be my first choice for peddling my wares. If for no other reason than to know that I would never have to compromise my ideas for the sake of the advertisers.

All that notwithstanding, I really don't care for any of the above magazines. It's just something that crossed my mind...