EDITOR'S COMMENT—MARCH 2004
I finally figured out my mission in life. Not a new one, but the one I've been subconsciously harboring since the '60s.
Back then, when I was in school, Playboy Magazine featured photos of Editor/Publisher Hugh M. Hefner sitting in a chair, surrounded by a bevy of beautiful Playboy bunnies. It was the look on his face that got me. There I was, full of angst, totally insecure about my sexuality, and there's this guy in a bathrobe swarmed by women I'd only dreamed about.
Well, I did my best. I chased women from the San Mateo to Trinidad-Tobago. Finally, I ended up as Editor in Chief of Skin & Ink and began coming in contact with the most exciting women on the planet―the ones with tattoos. I certainly never planned the chain of events. I had no direction in mind. I just got lucky. Or so I thought.
Little did I know the effect that Hefner photo had on me. Clearly, it guided my every move, because, after years of searching, in this issue on page xxx, the subliminal becomes reality. I too have a photo of me surrounded by beautiful women. In fact, unless I miss my guess. I have the same self -satisfied look on my mug that Hefner did.
But there's one big difference. No, it has nothing to do with the fact that Hefner has his own personal jet and I do not. No, it has nothing to do with the fact that he has a dozen live-in cuties to read him bedtime stories and I do not. No, it's not about his million-dollar empire or his fancy cars. Nope. It's the fact he's surrounded by a wimpy gaggle of girls in bunny ears and I'm photographed with red-hot, tattooed dream girls! No pussy bunny ears for me. My ladies have killer ink, and any one of them can stomp the shit out of a Playmate without even breaking a sweat!
Hey, Hef. You should be so lucky.
―Bob Baxter