One hundred issues. Who'd have thought that when two guys got heaving drunk one night on Bacardi and Guinness, their senseless ramblings would--by the light of a new day and once they had peeled their faces from the congealed goo of discarded pizza boxes--become a magazine that would endure for 100 issues?
We certainly didn't think so when we stole those guys' idea and turned it into LeisureSuit.net. The plan was to make a few quick bucks, establish a brand name, and then sell out to Salon. Little did we know that it's impossible to make money on the Internet, and that Salon wouldn't deign to return our phone calls (sites that lose millions think they're sooo superior to sites that lose thousands).
But it's all good, as they say. Because in those 100 issues, over 2 years, we've published some terrific stuff that's made us much prouder than financial profit, respect from our peers, or dates with English-speaking women ever could have. We've worked with some of the brightest talents--the Repshers, the Tyrrells, the Andersons, the Willocks, the Leighs, the Bentons and the Gogues. All these folks and many more have made LeisureSuit.net the magazine it is today. Which while implying no legal warranty towards any assets, revenues or other income, current or future, from Internet properties or any properties not heretofore mentioned, still means that they're very dear to our hearts.
Take Bill Repsher, for example. Bill is the conscience of the magazine, and our memory. Whether looking back on John Lennon, John Mellencamp, Xanadu, or 70's Cult Movies, his soul and scholarship have given the magazine a real touch of class. And who could forget his sepia-toned stories of little league ball, sneaking into the porno drive-in, his first drink, his jailbait neighbor's daughters, and the dude who lived upstairs? And social criticism, too. How about his tales of office temp work, or his hilarious deconstruction of VH-1's behind the music?
As for our sense of humor, that would have to be Chris Tyrrell. Whether going after Willy Wonka, The Fraggles, Jabba the Hutt, Jesus, or the Cookie Monster, he's not afraid whose toes he steps on. His skewed takes on masculinity, technology, and self-improvement have kept us roaring with laughter. How irreverent is this guy? He wrote a humor piece featuring John F. Kennedy, Jr. hanging out in celebrity purgatory with Stanley Kubrick before dude was even officially declared dead. We're all going to hell for that one.
And of course the personality of the magazine would have to be Hoffman, whose weekly Tales of Hoffman column has kept readers amused, enlightened, and often baffled. Who can forget Hoffman on jury duty, Hoffman at the U.N., Hoffman finding sexual paradise at the eye doctor's, Hoffman with his new bicycle, Hoffman stinking up an entire Amtrak train, and of course that timeless classic, the "I Hate Chinese" episode.
And there's so much more. Like sex? Check out Tom Willock on lingerie models, the old Times Square, and celebrity stalking, as well as Kerry Douglas Dye on Montreal lesbians, Amsterdam sex shows and the S&M restaurant. And don't forget our aspiring porn star, and titillating interviews with a centerfold and a Webcam girl.
Into political satire? In one famous piece, we lampooned one of those stupid/scary things then-candidate George Bush, Jr. was always saying. And remember when Warren Beatty, Cybill Shepherd, and other celebs were considering political runs? We made fun of that here . . . okay, granted, the political stuff gets old fast, but cast your mind back a ways, and you should get a good laugh.
Meanwhile, dig celebrity interviews? Check out our talks with Lloyd Kaufman, Alan Colmes, XTC, Bob Nastovich, Bree Sharp, and Bruce Fierstein.
Yeah, it's been a helluva 100 issues. We get all teary-eyed just thinking about it, but we won't lay that shit on you. Instead, we're going to go get a couple of beers and kick back and see what's on the Playboy-- er, the Discovery Channel. And you, take a few minutes and read some of the shit above. It's quality entertainment, which we hope you dig.
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