The Fall of the Playboy Mansion

I'll never forget the episode of  Sex and the City when Miranda looks down at a cluster of topless girls in a hot tub at the Playboy mansion. She smirks and says, "Tit soup." In that instant, their floating implants went from sexy to sad-looking. For historical purposes only, I had always wanted to go to the Playboy mansion. I couldn't wait for an invite. Ironically, I've been invited a ton of times, but I haven't gone. Why?

"tit soup"

Because they were selling me these tickets. What was once the hottest ticket in town has not turned into a revenue-generating  commodity for a failing enterprise. An aging Hugh Hefner has seen sharp declines in sales of his beloved Playboy Magazine. This is mainly due to the explosion of free Internet porn (Creator of Addictions and Destroyer of Relationships) and partially, I hope, due to more refined tastes of the American male. Oh who am I kidding?

old-fashioned

Now the Playboy Mansion is Party for Profit, a naked Disneyland. This overpriced theme park of Old-Fashioned Sexuality seems the last vestige of places that evoke a time that predates the sexual revolution, before women attended college in and entered the workforce in mass numbers. The days when the number one goal was to train your looks solely for the male eye. Besides, can you even call it a party with a cash bar? Next thing you know, it will be turnstiles and metal detectors at the gates.

Hot Girls Needing Confirmation

Los Angeles is known for its beautiful women. And though the masses have been plucked, sucked and tucked into utter perfection, insecurity still reigns. Whether from studio rejection, or a self absorbed bartender boyfriend who needs the validation from his fellow insecure cocktail waitresses, even the most darling girls only feel pretty when they go back to their hometowns.

For those uber-competitive beauties striving for validation, they can enter themselves into The Hot Quest. She must force a jubilant, smiling face for a photo (at least they still look at that) and please the masses by adding body shots, so total strangers can ogle her at her expense. What's kind of gross, is that you can see how many clicks each photo gets. I noticed that the more naked a girl is, the more clicks it receives. I think we all know what the boys are doing with those photos. The site kind of feels like Halloween: yet another occasion when scantily clad girls seem desperate for attention, and men can take advantage of their insecurities and enjoy the spectacle, free of charge.

If the girl scores enough votes on the site, she will be crowned "Hottest Girl on Earth" or, as Thrillist puts it: "The Hottest Girl On Earth Who Still Needs Affirmation From the Lonely Geeks of The Internet."

Scenes from a (sometimes) beautiful town...

Zanzibar, Santa Monica

King Harbor, Redondo Beach

Palm Springs-bound & passing brushfire damage

Strange light in our backyard at sunset

crepe myrtle and yucca in our backyard

Marina Del Rey, CA

Hadley napping on my hobo

Traffic Superstition

In Los Angeles, we are so traumatized by traffic that we've developed Freeway Superstition.

My friend Ron and I were cruising an open stretch of the Hollywood Freeway during the late afternoon - a rare privilege. With wind whipping our hair, I exclaimed, "This is amazing, no traffic!" His brow furrowed and he shushed me immediately. He warned that I could be jinxing the whole thing by the mere mention it. As if.

If my power of suggestion could summon a never-before seen force throughout Los Angeles, causing thousands of people to swing onto the 101 on-ramp for no apparent reason, I'd use those powers otherwise. I'd be a book deal-having, Academy Award-winning Kennedy with the highest metabolism in the West. Just saying.

Is this from the movie BIG?

Casa Del Mar Hotel, Santa Monica

If Tom Hanks asked Zoltar to make him "big," then every girl in Los Angeles has come here to ask for just the opposite!

America's Most Haunted?

Only thirty places in the United States are designated as haunted by the Department of Commerce, and the Whaley House is one of them. It's famously dubbed "America's Most Haunted." How could I not go? Mostly I wanted to visit because a ghost once scared the bejesus out of Regis Philbin back in 1964, and I thought any spirit with the inclination to do that has got to be pretty awesome.

I saw a documentary about the place, and before the ill-fated Whaley family built this home, it was a public gallows. One particularly morbid hanging was that of "Yankee Jim" Robinson, pictured right. He was clubbed over the head while trying to steal a boat, then promptly dragged to court semi-conscious. He was ordered to be hung from the scaffold.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Mr. Robinson was tall for that era, and his legs were long enough to have his feet lightly touching the floor. He was even rumored to have grasped part of the scaffolding to help support himself. It was a harrowing scene, and it took about an hour for him to die. His dragging footsteps are rumored to be heard all around the home. The doorway in the photo to the left is the location where Yankee Jim was hung before the Whaley House was built.

When the family built a home atop these gallows, the sordid history never faded. Amidst the reported supernatural activity, the Whaleys carried on in that home. They had a young son who died at 18 months from Scarlet Fever. Their daughter Violet Whaley suffered from depression and shot herself in the heart in the outhouse. A great-granddaughter of the family, Marion Reynolds, died from ingesting an oddly large amount of ant poisoning. What's strange is that she was eleven, and old enough to know better. There's also a rumor that a neighbor named Annabelle or Carrie Washburn ran into their clothes line by accident, crushing her esophagus and dying.

It was a great tour if only for the historical aspects. I did not experience anything supernatural, but it was a beautiful home and worth the six bucks hands down. I spoke with a few employees, who confirmed that they have walked into rooms only to smell cigar smoke, (Thomas Whaley was a cigar smoker) and lavender perfume, presumably from Mrs. Anna Whaley. Footsteps are heard as well, but a few people have seen the ghosts, like Regis Philbin. Mr. Philbin is quoted to have said, "You know a lot of people pooh-pooh it because they can't see it. But there was something going on in that house."

Serves him right for using the term "pooh pooh."

Kids' rooms with dolls are always creepy.

Happy New Year Los Angeles!

...And a good day sir!!