Up Against The Centerfold

The next day, Hugh Hefner materialized and handed me a memo about my piece. He was the first man I’d ever spoken to with dyed hair.

Hugh Hefner photo

Hugh Hefner living the Playboy life.

Hefner claimed he’d gotten late word that an objective article was in the works and he was furious that such a piece could have been assigned behind his back.

I skimmed his memo, my stomach churning. I hurriedly copied as much of it as I could:

The women’s movement is rejecting the overall roles that men and women play in our society—the notion that there should be any differences between the sexes whatever other than the physiological ones. It is an extremely anti-sexual unnatural thing they are reaching for. It is now up to us to do a really expert, personal demolition job. Clearly if you analyze all of the most basic premises of the extreme new form of feminism, you will find them unalterably opposed to the romantic boy-girl society that PLAYBOY promotes. Doing a rather neutral piece on the pros and cons of feminism strikes me as being rather pointless for PLAYBOY. What I’m interested in is the highly irrational, emotional, kookie trend that feminism has taken. These chicks are our natural enemy — and there is, incidentally, nothing that we can say in the pages of PLAYBOY that will convince them that we are not.

We must destroy them before they destroy the PLAYBOY way of life.


My stomach growled, but I was speechless.

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