At the age of 21, I accepted a position with Hustler Magazine. I stayed for five years, which took a terrible toll on my spirit and psyche. Things are much better now! Here are a few Larry memories.
  1. Trying to make Larry laugh.
    As "Humor Editor," I had to sit across from Larry and show him a stack of cartoon submissions, one by one. He'd nod and grunt if he thought they were funny; he'd shake his head and grunt if he didn't. When I reached the end, he'd grunt for me to leave. Today, whenever I have to pitch comedy to some Hollywood producer I'm warned is "scary," I laugh to myself that they will never be as scary as the terrifying Larry Flynt.
  2. Talking to him while I was super-high at a Christmas party.
    A coworker fed me what I did not know was a pot cookie. It kicked in as I was standing in a line of guests waiting to say hello to Larry. As the line inched forward, I grew more and more panicked, and fixated on how much Larry was like Santa in his wheelchair. When it was finally my turn, I made eye contact with Larry and became certain he was high, too. We talked for what seemed like hours. No idea what we discussed.
  3. When I got called in by HR.
    Once I climbed up to the roof of the photo studio and threw bowling balls at a bunch of fake turds (made by the prop department). The studio's manager filed a complaint against me. Larry responded that he could not, in good conscience, claim that the average Hustler reader would not want to know what happens when you drop a bowling ball on a fake turd. I kept my job.
  4. Telling him thank you.
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    My job at Hustler was indicative of a lot of other sickness in my life. After I quit, I got lots of help. Last October, I attended an awesome party where I got to meet lifelong idols like Bob Newhart and Don Rickles. Larry was also there; he didn't seem to recognize me. I told him that 15 years ago, he flew me to Los Angeles, where I would eventually meet my wife and have two kids. For that, I thanked him. He nodded, grunted and wheeled away.