Playboy After Hours

When we were in Paris recently, the Office du Vocabulaire Franc,ais solicited our signature on a petition to drum the barbaric term le parking out of the French language. This move stemmed from no dislike of motorists: it was merely the Office's opening gun in a campaign to root out all "gaudy and useless anglicisms" – a campaign that, it seems to us, is foredoomed because of the extent to which anglicisms have already permeated the noble lingo of Racine and Voltaire. Consider, for example, an evening in the life of a typical Parisian playboy: Le téléphone rings and, after a cheery allô, he accepts an invitation to une surprise party at Le Racing Club. There, amid les snobs at le bar, he and a mademoiselle flirtent shamelessly over un cocktail. Since she is interested in neither le bridge nor le tennis – not to mention le hockey – they take le car to un dancing where, between licks of le jazz hot and le rock 'n' roll, the band occasionally obliges the less nimble with un slow. The floorshow opens with une striptease and climaxes when all les girls swing out in le French can can. Of course, anyone wending his way toward le w.c. (water closet) must beware of les pickpockets because nowadays les gangsters are everywhere, le fair play nowhere. Homeward bound, the couple may stop at un snack bar, setting for un sandwich since notre boy is perhaps not un millionnaire. After proposing un picnic for le weekend, he escorts his date home. There, momentarily forgetting that he is un gentleman, he grabs for le pull-over she so amply fills, only to desist abruptly at a warning growl from her ferocious – and orthographically wondrous – bouledogue.

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Playboy is producing its own television show this fall, full of fun and frolic, much of it drawn from the pages of the magazine. Editor-Publisher Hugh M. Hefner will be hosting the festivities that take place weekly in Playboy's Penthouse, a swank apartment set high above the city scene. The viewer will be guest at a sophisticated penthouse party where he'll meet interesting personalities, celebrities, stars of showbiz, famous authors and artists; be entertained by hip humor, conversation, romantic songs, jazz and, of course, the presence of a plentiful number of Playmates. The program begins late in October on WBKB (Channel 7) in Chicago, with plans to syndicate it in other major metropolitan areas later in the year. Check with your local TV station for information on when Playboy's Penthouse is scheduled for showing in your city.

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A rounder friend of ours, who rounds continually, has shown us a card he's had printed for times when he feels guilty, like mornings after. It reads: "Mr. Carter Benson wishes to apologize for his conduct on the evening of.........." He just fills in the date and sends it off. He tells us that most mornings after, his memory isn't up to the night before, so he sends a card just to be sure.

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Mr. Warren Swidler of Columbia University is in a position to arrange economical flights to Europe for"students, faculty, employees and their immediate families." Here is his handsome offer, as given in an attractive flyer (no pun intended): "Fly Europe – $265 Round Trip – Overseas National Airways Charter ... flights to Europe with complete tourist services: hot meals, reclining seats and stewardesses, etc." Mr. Swidler goes on to note, somewhat delicately, that "There are a limited number of seats remaining." We deduce from this that the "complete tourist services" of the reclining hostesses are not going to be made available to strap-hanging passengers, so we urge an early application. And before joining the queue that forms to the right on College Walk, a moment's thought should be given to Mr. Swidler's last line: with an understatement that speaks volumes in this age of housemothers and other manifestations of gratuitous maternalism, we are quietly informed that "Columbia University assumes no responsibility for this flight."

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The Australian movie Walk into Paradise was retitled, for U.S. distribution, Walk into hell. This despite the fact that the flick comes to us from Down Under.

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Who needs: curfews for city bars and clubs? . . . whimsical names for pleasure boats? . . . men's shoes polished to a mirror gloss? . . . ceramic jewelry? . . . the women who make it? . . . sex instruction manuals? . . . respect for the dead? . . . jazz backgrounds in TV shows and movies where jazz has no significance or bearing? . . . double-barreled letter salutations like "Dear John Smith"? . . . wire coat hangers? . . . animal acts? . . . "little girls' room"? . . . "little boys' room"?.. 45-rpm records?.. .rebel flags? . . . girdles? . . . red-and-black typewriter ribbons?. . .projects named "Operation" So-and-So? . . . Monday? . . . "as told to Gerold Frank"? . . . raising bread? . . . matinees? . . . people who say "Jose Farrahr"?...virgins?...Venetian blinds? . . .the word "garment" applied to male attire?. . ."I've got news for you"?. . .cold showers? . . . foods "attractively" packaged in transparent, unopenable materials? . . . bottled cocktails? . . . beards without mustaches? . . . mustaches without beards? . . . beards? . . . mustaches?

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Sign at an automobile service station in Philadelphia reads: foreign cars Washed with Imported Water.

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We understand that some analysts have music piped into their offices in order to put their patients at ease. We assume the tunes include You Go to My Head and I'll See You in My Dreams, which are fine, but why not go the route and compose some special airs for the occasion? Like: The Sheik of Therapy, The Concho Serenade, Deep in the Heart of Cortexes, Id Never Entered My Mind, Give Me One Dozen Neurosis, Too Jung, Symptoms I'm Happy, Oklahoma, Phobia's a Jolly Good Fellow and Sadism So.

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A copy of Take One recently came across our desk. The small publication is evidently a kind of house organ for TV Guide. Anyway, one of the items therein gave us yoks of a considerable heartiness and, in the hope that it will do the same for you, here, in its entirety, it is:

"Over our coast-to-coast leased-wire Teletypes came the program information for Beat the Clock:

April 8 – a man attempts to transfer and inner tube from his body to his wife's while they are inside a mattress cover. Bud collyer is Emcee.

Somebody in the Midwest thought that was a trifle risqué, so our New York programming office did a rewrite and sent it out.

Beat the clock. April 8. Correction. Kill all info sent and substitute:

A man and his wife attempt to pass an object under difficult circumstances. Bud collyer is host.

And then:

Beat the clock. April 8. Correction, kill all info sent and substitute:

Today's stunt involves the tube for an automobile tire. Bud collyer is EMCEE."

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Just west of Bryn Mawr, a Pennsylvania college renowned for turning out broads with broad A's among other things, a single road sign bears this unhappy legend: Bareville, Peach Bottom, Intercourse, Churchtown, Grimsville.

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When England's Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals discovered that the owner of a jazz club in Leverpool was going to exhibit a live lion on his premises, they said OK, so long as the lion digs jazz. If the lion reacted unfavorably to the sounds, they said, they would prosecute. So far, the club owner has not been able to come up with a hip cat. Maybe he could substitute a lionized jazzman instead.