| Vintage Pulp | Feb 28 2013 |
The possibilities were simply endless.
At National Spotlite headquarters, probably about a week before this issue hit the streets, the editors were in crisis mode. They had no ideas for the cover. None at all. They had a photo. It’s the photo you see above. But they were blocked for headers.
Editor 1: “Woman desperate for husband says she’ll parade naked through town until someone marries her!”
Editor-in-Chief: “The Lady Godiva routine’s been done. Show some imagination. What the fuck am I paying you for?”
Editor 1: “This white beauty only makes love to blacks!”
Editor-in-Chief: “What, do you live in a cave? Can’t you see we’ve finally achieved a post-racial utopia where people don’t even see ethnic differences? Hell, I banged practically a rainbow of girls at last week’s love-in.”
Editor 2: “Doctors baffled! White beauty’s breasts give chocolate milk!”
Editor-in-Chief: “What did I just say?”
Editor 2: “But I’m emphasizing the science angle more than—”
Editor 1: “How about this idea? Hitler’s secret hippie granddaughter Sunflower Braun.”
Editor-in-Chief: “Bold, but Hitler doesn’t push sales anymore. Listen, what do I always explain? The photo tells the story. The girl is already naked, right, so how did she get that way?”
Editor 1: “Well, because that photographer guy Morty told her she needed nude shots if she was ever gonna break onto Broadway.”
Editor 2: “Pro photographer reveals ways you can lie to make desperate actresses strip for dirty pictures!”
Editor-in-Chief: “Not bad. Now listen to me edit-in-chief it. Take out “lie” and “desperate actresses.”
Editor 1: “Genius, boss.”
Editor-in-Chief: “Yup. That right there is why I make the big bucks.”
