Armadillocon took place in Austin over the weekend. This is, for those unaware, an annual science fiction and fantasy convention that's been running for 46 years. This isn't a big cosplay-and-celebrity event like DragonCon or ComiCon you see on TV. It's a more intimate affair focused on authors and artists. It's a blast. I attended it for the first time way back in 1990 and hope to attend many more in the future.
My recap of the weekend, along with a goodly number of photos, may be found on my Substack. As traffic here to my blog has gradually declined over the years, I'm shifting more of my writing over to the Substack platform, which combines the blog concept with social media and a built-in newsletter, with the potential of reaching more readers. And as a writer, reaching more readers is the name of the game. I don't plan on wholly abandoning this space, but the main activity will happen over at the new digs.
Now Playing: The Kinks Live in London 1973-1977
Highlights: For once, I'm not starting out by citing the interview (don't worry, I'll get to it shortly) but rather the letter column. In response to reader complaints about the U.S. Postal Service prosecuting individuals over obscenity statues (not involving Playboy subscriptions, I should clarify, but rather a superintendent of schools in South Texas, who was arrested for exchanging dirty letter with adult pen pals across the country) the magazine contacted Senate Majority Leader Everett Dirksen and several others, whose attention prompted a detailed letter from H.B. Montague, chief inspector of the Post Office. Printed by Playboy in its entirety, disavowing any improper or unethical attempts to prosecute folks using obscenity statutes and taking offense at the idea the Post Office might entrap someone:
Only an employee opening dead mail by authority of the Postmaster General, or a person holding a search warrant authorized by law may open any letter or parcel of the first class which is in the custody of the Department.Which is reassuring, until the next sentence, which reads, "Evidence reaches the hands of postal inspectors through many legal channels." Playboy instigated some investigative journalism and revealed that Montague was not entirely honest in his letter to the inquiring senators:
But our own investigation of the case has uncovered an important fact not mentioned in the newspaper acount: It wasn't necessary for the incriminating letter to be "intercepted," because of circumstances that do the Post Office Department no more credit than if a postal inspector actually had tampered with the superintendent's mail prior to delivery. It appears that the pair of passionate pen pals with whom Mr. Morgan had been corresponding were actually a "front" for postal authorities from the outset--established for the specific purpose of entrapping unsuspecting citizens into violations of the postal obscenity law.One could look at recent rulings from the U.S. Supreme Court, along with the platforms of certain political parties in the U.S. and conclude that we, as a society, are not that far from backsliding into this type of intrusive government presence in our daily lives. Remember, SCOTUS ruled not so long ago that there is no such thing as a right to privacy. And on that happy note, Playboy's interview subject for this issue was billionaire H.L. Hunt, someone I suspect would happily approve of those aforementioned SCOTUS rulings. I'd never heard of him before. A quick check of The Google informs me he was the father of Lamar Hunt, who I had heard of--the late Dallas businessman helped found the AFL and was owner of the Dallas Texans before moving the team to Kansas City where it rebranded as the Chiefs. Okay, that gives a little context. What else should I know about the elder Hunt? Well, he started out dirt poor, got lucky with some oil lease speculation and became a billionaire in short order. He was also an arch-conservative absolutely steeped with anti-Communist fervor, making him a prototype for the Koch brothers long before those two were born. He's also folksy and maddeningly evasive with his answers. The interview jumps around so I don't feel sharing a single excerpt would do it justice. Let's start with his thoughts on charity:
Playboy: You once said that you wanted to use your wealth "for the greater benefit of mankind." Do you feel that you have? Hunt: I have never been very sanctimonious along those lines. And so I doubt that I said that, because I feel that people who have wealth should not throw their money around; to do so makes good propaganda for the Communists. When someone who has a reputation for having a lot of money spends it foolishly, the Communists can use that as an argument against private enterprise, capitalism and the incentive system. Playboy: Is it foolish to spend your money for the benefit of mankind? Hunt: People who have wealth should use it wisely, in a way that will do society the most good. They should be careful that in making supposedly charitable gifts their money will not be used to destroy or impair the American system and promote atheism.Let's next consider Hunt's views on politics:
Playboy: How would you label yourself politically? Hunt: I am a registered Democrat who often votes Republican. Playboy: What would you call yourself--a middle-of-the-roader? A conservative? Hunt: A constructive. Playboy: What's that? Hunt: A constructive is simply someone who is trying to do the best that can be done in public affairs and elsewhere. Playboy: You really don't consider yourself a conservative? Most people do. Hunt: Not a particle. The word "conservative" puts a weight around the necks of the liberty side. Playboy: What do you mean by liberty? Hunt: Freedom for the individual to do whatever he likes consistent with organized society and good taste. Now about the word "conservative"--I think it's an unfortunate word. It denotes mossback, reactionary and old-fogyism.Later, Hunt goes on at length how he was a strong supporter of Gen. Douglas MacArthur for president and how disappointing it was when Gen. Dwight Eisenhower became president. Hunt claimed Eisenhower was in the mold of Harry Truman and F.D.R.--the latter of whom Hunt condemned for taking the U.S. into World War II after promising not to involve the country in the conflict during his 1940 presidential campaign:
Playboy: In view of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, do you think Roosevelt can be taken to task for violating a pledge to the mothers of America? Hunt: This is a big subject that would require much more time than we have to discuss it.Yes, that's certainly evasive, and just one of many examples peppering the article. I had a growing suspicion that Hunt harbored no objections to the fascist regimes in Germany, Italy and Japan for the simple reason that they weren't Communist. Let's move on to the Civil Rights movement:
Hunt: Many Negro teachers prefer to teach in Negro schools, and many Negro students prefer to attend Negro schools. Playboy: Nationwide demonstrations to integrate schools would seem to indicate that the majority feel otherwise. How do you feel about demonstrations? Hunt: Demonstrations are not the proper way to enact laws. They should not be incited by agitators seeking power and votes. Playboy: Don't you think Negroes should have the vote? Hunt: I favor suffrage for all 21 years and older. Playboy: Even for illiterates? Hunt: Yes. No one was barred in the mythical country Alpaca. [Note: Alpaca is a political utopian novel Hunt published in 1960] Playboy: Do you regard Martin Luther King as an "agitator seeking power and votes"? Hunt: I share J. Edgar Hoover's opinion of him. Playboy: Are you saying that you agree with Hoover that King is "the biggest liar in the United States"? Hunt: I cannot detect that King has any regard for the truth, religion, sincerity, peace, morality or the best interest of the Negro people.I cannot help but think the late Mr. Hunt would feel right at home in today's political environment, expounding upon the dangers of socialism (the fall of the Soviet Union and capitalism-takeover of the People's Republic of China would not so much as give him pause) while excoriating Black Lives Matter and other demonstration movements as wholly inappropriate. As the saying goes, history doesn't repeat itself but it certainly rhymes.
Other thoughts: Have you heard of steam-engine time? That refers to the phenomenon of multiple inventors around the world, with no connection, independently invented a version the steam-engine at roughly the same time. The reasons for this are complex, but essentially coming down to technology and culture reaching the point where inventing such a thing is not only physically possible but there's also a societal demand for it that makes such a thing almost inevitable. With that in mind, I have to wonder if 1966 is Japanese motorbike time judging from the ads in this issue. Granted, there are only two, from Honda and Suzuki, but they're stylish and splashy enough to make these small and relatively inexpensive imported motorcycles appealing, trendy transportation options for the Playboy reader. The Japanese motorcycle craze may have started in earnest with the Beach Boys' "Little Honda" two years earlier, but these ads reframe them as a legitimate option for adults, albeit with different approaches. Honda's ad features five different photographs of a wedding with the bride and groom departing on a red Honda. I mean, is there anything more suggestive of "this is grown-up business, not kids' stuff?" The Suzuki ad, on the other hand, features a single photo of a groovy dude in dark shades straddling his cycle with three different women draped over him. The ad is shot voyeuristically through out-of-focus tree leaves in the foreground, suggesting that this guy pulled over to chat with one of the ladies and the other two were so attracted to him and his bike that they swooped in. Rather than the "this motorcycle is for adults" message of the Honda ad, Suzuki goes for the "this motorcycle is for players" messaging. Interestingly enough, neither ad uses the word motorcycle in its copy.
I am a Christian theologian by profession: I have recently been involved in the death-of-God fuss, and I am, as well, committed to the death of God as a theological and human event. It is hard to know just exactly why the furor started last fall. I had been defending the death of God, off and on for years, on C.B.S. television programs, coast to coast, as the saying goes. But this was in the decent obscurity of the Sunday-morning cultural ghetto, and no one really listens to the words people say on television anyhow. What matters is if you are sincere, like Hugh Downs. A book or two came out in 1963, and in 1964 and 1965 a few articles began to appear indicating a common interest in doing Christianity without God. Ther or four of us seemed to be working similar lines, and critics--both fearful and interested--began to call us a movement, and we looked around and decided that perhaps they were right. This was the first decisive alteration in Protestant theology to take place since the communications explosion of the early Fifties, and no one was prepared for the rapidity of information passing when the snowball really started to pick up momentum.Not that I'm an expert by any measure, but suffice to say theology, as a discipline, has evolved a bit since 1966. But Hamilton was as significant thought leader in his time and shows that religion or theology or whatever you want to call it has never been monolithic. His influence still carries on to this day.
With the unruffled efficiency of a trained servant of the air, she stripped Bond's Levi Strauss one-piece sky-diver jump suit from his lithe, hard body and allowed a bronze, muscular arm to draw her head against his chest. "My name is Israel, O solicitious daughter of the Ganges," he said through cyanotic lips. "Indira," she breathed. "Indira." "Look baby," he snapped. "I know where. I've done this before." "No, Mr. Bond--Indira--it's my name."Two gems from the "Playboy After Hours" column I must share. First up, a musical observation:
Atop the hit parade in Jackson, Mississippi, as we go to press, is an inspiration ballad entitled Jesus Is God's Atomic Bomb.Folks, I am not making this up. This was a for-true gospel song recorded by the Swan Silvertone Singers released in 1947. Why it achieved popularity in Jackson nearly two decades later is anyone's guess. Listen to it yourself:
Like many of television's Top Ten shows, Batman seems destined to become an international hit when it goes into syndication overseas, dutifully dubbed with a dozen tongues. The elemental language of "BIF!" "BAM!" "POW!" is probably universal, but we suspect that the series may lose something in translation--though perhaps in name only. In Germany, for example, the caped crusader would strike terror in the hearts of criminals everywhere as the redoubtable Fledermaus-Mensch. Somewhat more mellifluously, he would be known to French fans as the debonair Chauve-souris-Homme, to Italian high-camp followers as the picaresque Pipistrello-Uomo and to Chinese viewers as the sage Bien-fu-jen. However, in Lithuania--predictably enough--he'd be almost unpronounceably named Shikshnosparnis-Zhmogus. But our super-hero's mouth-filling moniker on Polish TV would be the musical challenge of the lot: Nietoperz-Czlowick. Let's see Neal Hefti, composer of The Batman Theme, put that to music.Finally, as a kid growing up in the 70s and early 80s, pretty much every second pair of pants I wore were corduroy. Seriously, they were ubiquitous. Then, suddenly, they were gone. I haven't seen a pair in decades, much less worn any. The interwebs assure me that corduroy is having a comeback moment in 2024, but I have not seen it. If cords are indeed the trendy new thing, maybe this guy can step up and help newcomers get hip to the concept of wale-count. Remember, folks, the "W" is silent.
Highlights: I have completely accepted the fact by now that the featured interview is invariably the highlight of each issue. If the interview is wanting, then the issue is sub-par. That's just physics, people. I don't make the rules. If you have a problem with that, take it up with Isaac Newton. So, with that out of the way, this month's interview is a humdinger: Madalyn Murray. She wasn't Madalyn Murray O'Hare yet, mind you. To be honest, I had no idea she was such a public figure in 1965. Growing up, I'd always assumed she was more a product of the 1970s. Full disclosure here: I've never much liked her. Part of that comes from growing up Catholic, and to say Murray and the Catholic Church didn't get along is the understatement of the century. But as I grew older, I realized I agreed with her on many issues and that she served a useful purpose in U.S. society. That didn't result in my liking her more than I had previously. Every time I heard her speak, she came across to me as a narcissistic asshole... and that was before I learned she was a holocaust denier. Her abduction and murder was absolutely bizarre and I'd never wish that on anybody, but I find it more than surreal that with all the death threats she received over the years her eventual murder had nothing whatsoever to do with her atheistic views.
This interview is anything but boring. In fact, it's exhausting. She fires off half a dozen answers to a question and skips on to a third topic before the interviewer has framed the second question. She's supremely self-confident, arrognat even, but knows how to tell a story. The interview is at times infuriating, harrowing and alarming--particularly when she describes police brutality that echoes modern incidents. The following doesn't get into that, but was a pretty controversial view at the time. It's less so now but there are plenty of folks who'd like to change that.Playboy: What is the proper remale role, in your opinion? Murray: Well, as a militant feminist, I believe in complete equality with men: intellectual, professional, economic, social and sexual: they're all equally essential, and they're all equally lacking in American society today. Playboy: According to many sociologists, American women have never enjoyed greater freedom and equality, sexually and otherwise, than they do today. Murray: Let's distinguish between freedom and equality. The modern American woman may be more liberated sexually than her mother was, but I don't think she enjoys a bit more sexual equality. The American male continues to use her sexually for one thing: a means to the end of his own ejaculation. It doesn't seem to occur to him that she might be a worth-while enin in herself, or to see to it that she has a proper sexual release. And, to him, sex appeal is directly proportional to the immensity of a woman's tits. I'm not saying all American men are this way, but nine out of ten are breast-fixated, wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am cretins who just don't give a damn about anyone's gratification but their own. If you're talking about intellectual and social equality for women, we're not muchbetter off. We're just beginning to break the ice. America is still very much a male-dominated society. Most American men feel threatened sexually unless they're taller than the female, more intellectual, better educated, better paid and higher placed statusiwse in the business world. They got to be the authority, the final word. They say they're looking for a girl just like the girl who married dear old dad, but what they really want, and usually get, is an empty-headed little chick who's very young and very physical--and very submissive. Well, I just can't see either a man or a woman in a dependency position, because from that sort of relationship flows a feeling of superiority on one side and inferiority on the other, and that's a form of slow poison. As I see it, men wouldn't want somebody inferior to them unless they felt inadequate themselves. They're intimidated by a mature woman. Playboy: Like yourself? Murray: Yes, as a matter of fact. I think I actually frighten men. I think I scare the hell out of them time after time. It's going to take a pretty big man to tame this shrew. I need somebody who can at least stand up to me and slug it out, toe to toe. I don't mean a physical battle> I mean a man who would lay me, and when he was done, I'd say: "Oh, brother, I'd been laid."I once interviewed author Harlan Ellison and afterward described the experience as tossing out a question and then hanging on for dear life. Reading Murray's interview wasn't exactly the same, but it did give me some flashbacks. And having read the entire interview, I still don't like her very much although I must confess a degree of respect.
Though I may have pirated the super-heroes, I never went near their boy companions. If the theory behind Robin the Boy Wonder, Roy the Superboy, The Sandman's Sandy, The Shield's Rusty, The Human Torch's Toro, The Green Arrow's Speedy, and Captain America's Bucky was to give young readers a character with whom to identify, if failed dismally in my case. The super grownups were the ones I identified with. They were versions of me in the future. There was still time to prepare. But Robin the Boy Wonder was my own age. One need only look at him to see he could fight better, swing from a rope better, play ball better, eat better andlive better; for while I lived in the east Bronx, Robin lived in a mansion, and while I was trying, somehow, to please my mother and getting it all wrong, Robin was rescuing Batman and getting the gold medals. He didn't even have to live with his mother.I mean, when Feiffer writes about comics, you have to pay attention. He was probably the most widely read editorial cartoonist in the U.S. at one point, and won a Pulitzer in 1986. But ultimately, despite his obvious depth of knowledge, this piece is merely nostalgic rather than insightful. That's a pity, but maybe the world wasn't ready to think of comics as a legitimate art form in 1965. I've mentioned before how big a deal James Bond was in this era. The movies were a huge cultural event and Ian Fleming serialized new Bond novels in Playboy before they reached bookstore shelves. There is not a new James Bond story in this issue. Rather, we get the fiction parody Loxfinger by Sol Weinstein. I can't say I'm a fan. A quick check of The Google tells me that Weinstein wrote several parody novels featuring Israel Bond, secret agent for the fledgling state of Israel. The Google tells me these were well-received at the time. I dunno--to me it just comes off as ham-fisted and a bit cringe:
In that service he was known as Oy Oy Seven, a status which gave him license to kill. Not only was an Oy Oy holder licensed to kill, but he was also empowered to hold a memorial service over the victim. Bond thought of M, the head of the Secret Service, the only person to home he had ever given his total love and trust: M, who had bestowed the Oy Oy rank upon him. But now, Bond reflected as he gazed into the menacing O of the Olivetti, the sallow-complexioned, wiry Levantine type in the bellhop's uniform who held it had that license to kill. And he would use it. From a corner of a glazed eye, Bond caught the girl's face. No longe was it the sweetly obedient face of the lissome Priental Bond had picked up a few hours ago. Its lips were now curled into a contemptuous sneer. Of course! She was part of the cabal. He'd been had/ As if she'd overheard his rueful thought, she responded with an insolent, "How big swinger rike his rittle Oriental praymate now?" And she spat into his face.Maybe it'd read funnier had I grown up in the northeast and had more direct exposure and interaction with Jewish culture, but I doubt it. Austin Powers, it ain't. Heck, it's not even Spy Hard.
