Private Parts (39 page)

HOWARD: Tell us about your last memory of abuse.

GROSSANNE: Oh, this came out recently under hypnosis. I was molested by the Loch Ness Monster and the Easter Bunny. And then Santa Claus was also there.

HOWARD: You're saying that you were in a foursome with the Loch Ness Monster, the Easter Bunny, and Santa Claus?

Judy Tenuta, as Roseanne, with me, the loving husband feeding his bride.

GROSSANNE: Uh-huh. This was about the time I was in the loony bin.

HOWARD: I find that story hard to believe.

GROSSANNE: I got photographic evidence 'n stuff. Santa even let Rudolph take a turn. Boy, those antlers hurt. Hey, did I ever tell you about the time the pig farmer violated me with his pitchfork?

HOWARD: I think that's enough for now, thank you, Grossanne.

GROSSANNE: Yeah, well, Tom still hates ya. You're third-rate to him.

Okay, let's assume that all of Roseanne's incest stories are true. Even granting that assumption, there is still no excuse for the way she conducted herself as her career was on the ascent. If you analyze it, Roseanne is despicable in that she did the same thing as all these phony guys do when they dump their wives who stood with them through thick and thin and leave their families and get their trophies. Hey, Tom Arnold is far from a trophy. He's not even a merit badge. But she's just like these guys who, as soon as they get a little money in their pocket, dump the old bat. I've got to admit, it's somewhat tempting to do that. But I love

my wife and my wife loved me when I was a bum. She was actually proud of me and brought me to her parents' house, even when I had no job. And her parents treated me like a human being even though I disgusted myself. I wanted to be in radio but I had no voice, no delivery, nothing. But they treated me as if I was normal. So when I get tempted by one of these little bims, I look at my bim and I know she's the best bim on the planet for me. I'm never going to do any better. She truly loves me. And true love is a hard thing to find, remember that. I trust my wife, and I'm so paranoid I don't trust anybody. I know she would never betray me. Any woman I would meet now I could never trust. So I feel bad for Roseanne's first husband. He actually married that fat slob and lived in a trailer with her. And raised children with her.

"Howard Stern doesn't bother us. We chuckle at him. He's amusing sometimes. It's not the stuff he says about me, it's the racism and sexism and stuff that I hear him say. He'll make jokes about incest, which I think is sickening. I don't want anyone from our shows going on Howard Stern and I won't let them."

--
Tom Arnold

Look at Roseanne. He must have really loved her to marry something like that. Let me quote Roseanne from a recent article in the magazine
QW:

Tom just came into the room and wants me to say how much I hate Howard Stern. What a fucking asshole. He's a racist pig and he gets away with it by having that stupid black woman sitting next to him, excusing all of it. He's a racist, sexist, homophobic fucking pig. His only fans are plumbers jacking off in their trucks on the way to work. If that's what America's coming to, I hope you print that in your magazine. You probably don't have to worry
-- I've said this to other magazines and they didn't print it. If I get a hold of him, I'm gonna shave his fucking head for him, so he'll look like the skinhead he is. He's an anti-Semite, too. And he's an ugly son of a bitch. He's uglier than Joey Ramone. I've said this to other people and I've been censored from day one by these stupid press people. They censor me because I'm a woman of opinion. Say hi to everybody out there in New York. Be sure to say "Howard Stern is a fucking pig."

So this is our new role model? A woman who gives her firstborn up for adoption, dumps her husband, spends time in a loony bin, and attacks the nicest, sweetest, most sentimental radio personality on the planet? They say you can tell a lot about a culture by the heroes it keeps.

More and More and More Hate Mail

The last thing people need from you is political advice! You are the standard left-wing Jew Democrat! You are even worse. You are a one issue swine. Abortion! What a dumb JEW. Too bad your ugly Jew mother didn't abort you! You didn't abandon Jerry Brown because he did not come to your "show". You hated his statement that he would run with Jesse Jackson....You JEWBASTARDS ARE STILL ANGRY ABOUT HIS HYMIE STATEMENT. YOUR WHOLE LIFE IS ISRAEL AND ABORTION....YOU'D BETTER FACE IT JEWSWINE, NO MATTER HOW YOU TRY TO PERSUADE YOUR AUDIENCE, THE PRESIDENT WILL STILL BE BUSH....WE ARE A CHRISTIAN NATION....AND IN SPITE OF THE FACT THE YOU JEWSCUM RUN HOLLYWOOD AND THE MEDIA, WE SHALL OVERCOME....ALL THE NEW JEWBABIES CAN SCREAM "DEMOCRAT" THE MOMENT THEY POP OUT OF THE JEWBITCH'S BOX...BUT IT WILL DO NO GOOD. THE DEMOCRAT PARTY IS DEAD! THE DEMOCRAT PARTY IS NOW IN THE HANDS OF ALL THE SCUM OF THE EARTH. THE JEWS, AND NIGGERS, AND QUEERS AND LESBIANS. THE DEMOCRAT PARTY IS DEAD!

Howard Stern:

You are probably the most evil piece of Jew Drek in the area! You

hurt anything that is not Jewish. Your life is; harming others with your evil

talk! That spade; nigger;darkie; no-talented-brillo-headed-colored- person

you laugh with, makes us vomit! She only ass-kisses your family and Jews in general! She even mocks her own kind...but try: as she might, she will never

be white. Her only talent is to laugh like an idiot. She looks like a little black boy on her face-----and her reformed breasts look like when they are released, 20 cockroaches will crawl out from under them. Not even her own kind

can deal with her....so she keeps her nose up the foul-smelling Stern ass to make a living. Without Stern, at her advanced age, she could not even make a living selling her foul body!

.........You say all priests are gay...well just look at those ugly

looking, dirty-smelling jewbastard-rabbis with the little box-hats on their foreheads....and all the jewfaggots who head the jew groups, and the rabbis who are queer and who molest little boys and girls.
.....
Speak about your own kind you mokie-bastard swine! Your bitch mother and dog father must be the devil to have whelped a piece of slime like you. If it were not for the N.Y. faggot Jew, you would have no ratings. You will never; make it across the country, because there are no Jews across the country. Jews only foul the air in N.Y., Florida and parts of California. The only thing you cause is hatred. We are thankful your ugly, stinking Jew wife dropped her Jew fetus...one less jewbastard

You've Been a Bad Girl, Haven't You?

Spanking, Stripping,
Shaving, Butt Bongoing,
and Beyond

CHAPTER 12

I find it one of the great ironies of my life that when I was single, I couldn't get most women to even look at me, let alone sleep with me. But then, as soon as I became a popular radio personality, all these women start coming out of the woodwork. Unfortunately, by then I was married and I wasn't about to break my vows. But thank God I have an outlet to sublimate these deep, dark desires. I have a show.

"He looks like a chicken. Ninety-five percent of what he says is about sex, take the sex away, and he has no act, and he'll go nowhere. . . It's a shame, because he does have talent."

-- Jack Paar

As far back as Washington, D.C., I realized that there were enough men in the same boat as me, so that bringing vicarious sex to my show would be a good career move as well as a great means to satisfy my sexual longings. We started out with a version of phone sex. Women would call in and tell us about their sex lives. Then, we wanted to see what these girls looked like, so we invited them down to the studio.

But seeing them wasn't enough. I had read an article about some French broadcasters who had actually had sex live on their show. Not to be outdone by a nation of sniveling cowards, I put the call out for a woman to come in and have sex with us. I was married, but Fred, one of my writers, was single. And sure enough, one girl came

down. She wasn't half bad-looking either.

At DC-101 we had a big horseshoe-shaped console. So this girl came in and because we were in a glass-enclosed studio, I grabbed a remote mike and Fred, the girl, and I got under the console. We started off by making noises that simulated sex.

After a few minutes, this girl got into it. She started getting into it way too much for me, but this was the first time that I saw Fred get sexual. They started making out and he was ripping his pants off. She was ready to go all the way right there under the console, but I pulled the plug on it at just the right time.

It wasn't until we got to WNBC in New York that we were actually able to get women to come in and take off their clothes on the air. It happened for the first time on our first Christmas party show. We had listeners call in and if they had some weird talents, like being able to belch Christmas carols, we had them come up to the studio. We put out some booze and the next thing we knew a girl was running around the studio throwing off her top! It was insane. It was like watching a librarian on a vacation in the Caribbean. Two piña coladas and she's bumping and grinding with a little native guy on the beach. Then Monday, she's back at work.

But we had our first taste of nudity and there was no stopping us. In fact, a few months later, I decided that until we could get girls to come down and take off their clothes for us, I would punish the listening

audience. After the show's opening theme, I came on the air in a grave monotone.

"You people are being punished today. Until a naked woman agrees to come on this program, until a woman in our audience comes down here and takes her clothes off for me, you people will be punished. We'll just sit here until you get it together. No bits, no fun, just boredom," I said.

We got a false report that a Swedish blonde named Inga was coming down to strip at four o'clock, but she didn't. Then I really began to torture my audience. I played a Partridge Family record. I played Judy Collins singing "Send in the Clowns" complete with dogs whimpering and babies crying in the background.

"Now we're going to play 'How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?' and you people can sit and listen to it. Don't turn it off," I ordered. It only got worse. A few Steve Rossi songs. "You Light Up My Life." "The Night Chicago Died." It got so bad that Robin even tried to recruit some women on the NBC studio tour to strip, but to no avail. Later that afternoon, a woman called up and promised to come down the next day.

"One condition," she said. "As long as Robin is in the room. I don't want to be alone with you."

"I don't want to touch you, I just want to look at you. I haven't seen a new naked body in ten years. I just want to look at you so I have something to fantasize about. Is that too much to ask?" I said.

Meanwhile, we finished the show with Bobby Vinton, Nancy and Frank Sinatra, "Jean," "Harper Valley PTA," "I Am Woman," "Candy Man," and "The Ballad of the Green Berets."

The next day we hit pay dirt. Waiting for us in the studio was not one, not two, but three girls! One was a comedienne named Maria, up from Philly, who promised to play Dial-a-Date naked. The second was a red-headed stripper named Destiny, and the third was Cathy, an incredible blonde. She was a natural breathtaking beauty, a girl next door who was about to do the wildest thing she'd ever done in her life. In fact, she was so shy about taking her clothes off that she brought along a male friend and made him take off his clothes, too, before she would. It was wild.

Knowing the hypocrites in management at NBC all too well, I immediately made the studio a closed set. I had Gary, who had just started working for me around this time, tape newsprint all over the

glass windows. Then I assigned both Gary and Fred to keep everybody out. I didn't care if the general manager or the program director or even Grant Tinker showed up, they weren't getting in.

"Three naked girls! Three naked girls on my show!" I screamed and Fred began to play some strip music.

"Maria's pants are off," I began a play-by-play.

"Destiny is bumping and grinding and taking her clothes off," Robin reported.

"The guy is naked! Cathy is naked!" I exulted.

"This is disgusting," Robin said.

"This is great!" I corrected her.

I put Maria into a chair so I had an unencumbered view of her 38C assets and we began her Dial-a-Date. Just then there was a commotion outside the studio door. I later found out that most of the NBC executives were outside trying to get in. And one of the NBC corporate lawyers was adamant. He
demanded
to be allowed in.

"I'm sorry," Gary said. "We're not allowing anybody in here."

"I NEED TO BE IN THERE, GODDAMNIT!" the suit exploded. "I'M A LAWYER. I NEED TO HEAR IF SOMETHING OBSCENE IS GOING ON."

This guy was out of control. There was no way he had to
see
what was going on. His job was to
listen,
not to
look.
But man, did he want to look! He created such a fucking scene that he really came off like a dirty old man.

The censor turned on his slimy heels and stormed away. Here was a guy who was in charge of lecturing
me
on decency looking every bit the peep-show customer.

"My mother said I'd never get a naked woman in here." I was gloating. "I've got three." I called her up.

RAY: I'm totally disgusted.

HOWARD: She's got a D cup, just like you! I told you I'd get a naked girl down here!

RAY: And when your daughter gets older, you're gonna have her listen to this nonsense?

HOWARD: Emily doesn't think I'm her father. I told her her father is a Harvard professor.

We went back to Dial-a-Date and Maria made her choice. Then we got another girl to strip for Greg the engineer, who missed the initial nudity.