Mr. Gin & Tonic: The Playboy Interview

Anyone who has taken a crap in my downstairs bathroom knows that is where I keep my magazines. Shutterbug, Popular Photography, National Geographic, Playboy. Yes, Playboy. While the articles are generally pretty good, I admit, I really read it for the pictures...

And so it was, as I sat tonight, thumbing through the current issue, passing various celebrity interviews, it dawned on me that I've never been the subject of one. No one has posed 20 questions to me. I have never even been deposed...

And I have to wonder... what would it be like?

Playboy: So, Mr. G&T, tell us, where did you come from?

Mr. G&T: [smiles warmly] Humble beginnings, my friend. My mother was a fish monger, and we lived on the shore of a cold Canadian lake. My father was the inventor of the Betamax. He is a bitter bitter old man.

Playboy: Would you say you had a difficult childhood?

Mr. G&T: Looking back in hindsight, I suppose, but when all you know is nightly penitent flagellation and snake handling, you don't realize that you're unhappy...

Playboy: So, are the rumors true about your wild college years?

Mr. G&T: Well... [smirking] I mean everyone experiments a little... Look, all of the animals consented, none of the photographs survived, the various rashes and infestations cleared up, the scarring is almost undetectable, the charges were dropped, the restraining orders have long since been lifted, and I met some of my best life-long friends in rehab. So, no harm no foul, as they say...

Playboy: OK, but, what's this Conquistador thing we keep hearing about?

Mr. G&T: Oh that... [rolls his dark eyes] I think that story has developed a life of its own. Really, it was nothing. Nothing at all.

OK, look, I was on vacation with a few close friends on a small island in the South Pacific. It was real rustic, thatch-roofed huts, topless serving girls, you know what I'm saying... Anyway, I don't know whether it was sun stroke or the peyote, but I started to lose my grasp on certain small things like, my name and what century I lived in...

Basically, for a short time, I thought that I was Vasco DeGama. I went around with a pot lid and a spatula trying to "colonize" the other huts in the resort. Really, someone should have kicked my ass, but instead, it started a new island tradition...

Playboy: Fascinating! And, what's this we hear about you starting your own religion?

Mr. G&T: No, no, no! I think this is the most misunderstood thing about me. I don't want to start a new religion. What I've said was, I think I am the next incarnation of the Dalai Lama. I keep trying to get the word out, but no one wants to listen... I mean, I'm not really Buddhist, so I guess I've got that working against me... You know if the whole Lama thing doesn't pan out, I may just look for work in the televangelist industry instead.

Playboy: We're concerned about the drinking. Is it just a persona, or do you really get drunk every day?

Mr. G&T: Oh, no, no, not every day. Just on days that end in the letter "Y."

Playboy: Can you tell us your proudest moment?

Mr. G&T: You know, the birth of each of my children (the ginlettes) were amazing events, emotional, indescribable. However, my proudest moment was probably just a couple of months ago when the Lounge hit 300 individual visitors in one day.

Playboy: Yes, the Lounge. Why do you blog?

Mr. G&T: I try hard, you know, to bring some spark of excitement to what would otherwise be all of my friends' dreary days. A little laugh, a little spark, a little titillation. I like to test the frontier of free speech. I like to create an open forum for radical self-expression.

But really, what it comes down to, is me.
Me and, well, my narcissistic obsession.

Playboy: Any regrets?

Mr. G&T: I regret that I didn't buy a bigger bottle of gin at the liquor store yesterday. Oh well, time to switch to Scotch...