Pay a woman for sex and it's prostitution. But do it in front of a camera and it's legal.
For 60 years, Hugh Hefner, has perpetuated a hyperbolic reality. He's the Marlboro Man. He's Charles Atlas. He's a mascot. He's a caricature - a self-help spokesman for the wonder-drug known as Playboy Magazine.
A porno publisher is a middleman that the last twenty years of technology did away with. Naked women have become ubiquitous. Sex tapes, nipslips, and Paparazzi upskirt shots have empowered the amateur. And this is when Hefner the mascot truly emerged, a P. T. Barnum showman, parading blonds instead of elephants.
The July 2011 issue would've been quite pedestrian, had it only shown Crystal Harris, pretty blond #3,607, with her mams hanging out. But concoct a "runaway bride" story, slap a seemingly impromptu sticker on the cover, and you might sell an extra 100,000 copies.