There was a piece in the January issue’s After Hours section about Pamela Anderson’s appearances on Playboy covers around the world—that amazing silver Sante D’Orazio shot was her 12th US Playboy cover, sure, but counting foreign editions it was actually her 143rd. Which is just a big, huge number any way you slice it. The data came from a site called pbcovers.com run by a nice fellow named Mitch Courtright, and it’s truly impressive. If you’re even a moderate Playboy fan and you’ve never perused it, have a look.
We got an e-mail today from Mitch regarding a page he put up in response to the Pam cover counting. It’s a list of who’s done the most covers around the world.
With 85, the rabbit head comes in a distant second to Pam, and the late Anna Nicole Smith an also-distant third with 46.
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When interviewed, Marylin Monroe once asked the reporter if he minded if she'd slip into something more comfortable. That moment for the reporter, he later revealed, was like the moment he first felt when he sat in a racecar for an interview on speed tracks: just as he was about to start sweating from excitement, he realized there was already plenty of somebody else's sweat in the seat long before him. He just wondered whether his place as guest would be remarkable as moment or only as memory. It is the moments of others' memories we leave with when we read these words, it is the moments of others' memories with which we depart when we close Playboy magazine issues. While the collective memory of individuals across lands and times has in the past left diplomats with something to talk about (hunting, fires, storms) having something in common with a foreigner remains more of an after hours moment than something "prime time." Saturday Night Live's theatrics used to be called of the "not-ready for prime-time players." Smokers and B-Movies were what made the 50's the 50's for Hef's Generation. But for the 21st Century, when we look for common ground, it is not McDonalds, Pamela Anderson, and Mustangs that unite us but rather those moments when we note the lack of McDonalds, Pamela Anderson, and Mustangs that we share that mutual glint in our eye that leaves men wanting to write novels and women wanting to read them. Eventually, we will outgrow being boys and return to being men.