I first contemplated using this column for evil purposes when TIME agreed to shell out $10,000 to adopt a stretch of highway for me. If they'll do that, I reasoned, imagine what other people will do. I dreamed of strong-arming mayors to give me keys to their cities, persuading a minor league team to let me throw out the first pitch and getting women to talk to me. Then it struck me: I needed to see the Playboy Mansion.
Sure enough, Hugh Hefner agreed. After driving up the driveway of the estate and giving my name to a talking rock that...
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