In a recent Wall Street Journal article, Steve Garbarino lamented the death of the playboy.
The playboy is dead. Many of them actually lie underground and even the ones still roaming the earth have shed their tanned hides. Let us now toll the names: the red-blooded Pablo Picasso, the legendary Gianni Agnelli, the Dominican diplomat stud Porfirio Rubirosa (whose reported notches included Zsa Zsa Gabor, Ava Gardner, Jayne Mansfield and Rita Hayworth), the polo-playing novelist Jerzy Kosinski (who chronicled the mallet-wielding lifestyle in “Passion Play”), the man-of-wealth-and-taste Mick Jagger (in his Marianne Faithfull phase), the modelizing safari-photographer Peter Beard (once married to Cheryl Tiegs, romantically linked to Candice Bergen and Lee Radziwill, sister of Jackie O.), Prince Albert, Roberto Rossellini, Marcello Mastroianni (who ultimately became the “La Dolce Vita” parts he played), Dodi Fayed (the Egyptian film producer who died with Princess Di in a 1997 car crash), and so many no-name but no less formidable Brazilians, Brits, French and Germans.
Despite their many sins, mortal and venal—sloth, lust, familial ties to Nazis and brutal dictators—most of the great playboys shared noble attributes. They embodied elan, impeccable taste, extreme discretion (regarding money as well as sexual conquests), and general good-natured bonhomie. To hear those who knew them tell it, they were captivating one-man shows, room-holders who, when they had everyone’s attention, often put others before them. And wherever they rested their fox hats and crash helmets, they left apocryphal stories behind, repeated in private clubs and lawn parties, tall tales that separated them from the wolf pack.
Wrong. The lucky guy in the video above (yet another deleted scene from Bridesmaids obtained by Funny or Die) — “Air Marshall John” — is a f*cking playboy.