Jerry Buss died today. The 80-year-old was arguably the greatest NBA owner in the history of the league. He was also a world-class Playmate aficionado who frequently dated teenage girls and used to host his birthday party at a brothel.
To put it in more appropriate obituary terms, the man was "known for his eye for beautiful women." Aw, now that's nice. Here we present a tribute to his horndoggery, full of countless "unidentified" women in undersized tops and of questionable age. Let's remember him this way. To begin: "Los Angeles Lakers owner Jerry Buss (C) is surrounded by Penthouse Pets," June 1999. (Getty)
Yes I agree re: mzungu play tings. I posted a lot more info in your history of the Black slut thread. I had NO idea.
Would love your comments.
As for some of your other threads to tell you the truth, when mi see certain titles me noh even baddah fi click pon de link.
In which thread is the Magic Johnson info?
yuh reallee tink mii memba dat
What It Was Like Being The Only Virgin On Magic's Hypersexed Lakers
The following is excerpted from Showtime: Magic, Kareem, Riley, and the Los Angeles Lakers Dynasty of the 1980s, which is available now on Amazon.
If one were in with the Los Angeles Lakers after the 1985 championship season, he or she had an opportunity to party at two of the hottest spots in America.
The mansion belonging to Jerry Buss.
The mansion belonging to Magic Johnson.
The two abodes, located mere miles apart, came complete with swimming pools, hot tubs, bars, home theatres, expansive kitchens, enormous yards and hosts who embraced—in no particular order—women with large breasts, women with long legs, women with gymnast-like flexibility, women in their 20s, and women with a proclivity for sex.
Buss resided in Pickfair, the Beverly Hills mansion Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks chose as a home after the two cinematic idols married in 1920. It had been the first private property in the Los Angeles area to include a swimming pool. Throughout the 1920s, dinners at Pickfair became the stuff of Hollywood legend. Among those who attended were Amelia Earhart, Charlie Chaplin, Rudolf Valentino and George Bernard Shaw. However, when Fairbanks (who destroyed his marriage by having an affair with Lady Sylvia Ashley) and Pickford divorced in 1936, the magic vanished. Pickford remained in the home but lost herself to alcoholism and depression. She let the place fall into disrepair, and, by the time she died in 1979, Pickfair was a dump.
Buss, however, believed in the power of Hollywood Past. In September 1980, he paid $5,362,500 for the estate, and shortly thereafter brought his daughter, Jeanie, to 1143 Summit Drive in the San Ysidro Canyon for a look-see. "It wasn't good," she said. "I thought we were just visiting, so I took a picture in every room. I didn't know he was about to buy it, but my dad believed in the fantasy. He loved movie stars and entertainment, and to him, Pickfair was perfect."
Before long, Buss transformed the 22-room home into a magnificent ode to classic décor meets 1980s adventurism. His dinner parties were fantastic. His guest list was magnificent. Buss thought of Pickfair as a souped-up Playboy Mansion. "Jerry was a night owl," said John Rockwell, an actor who befriended the Lakers owner. "He spent a lot of time at night in Pickfair, playing poker, drinking rum and cokes. One time I had to drag him from Pickfair to the Forum for a game. He never wanted to leave that place."
"I'm no prince of a guy, but with Jerry and Pickfair it was like, 'Really? You're fifty-something and still dating 20-year-olds?'" said Scott Carmichael, who worked for the Los Angeles Kings at the time. "He had Playmates coming in and out, these 25-year-old bimbo girlfriends coming in and out. He was very into stars and stardom."
Buss hungered for adventure. When Charline Kenney, his longtime assistant, once called at 9 a.m., he groggily replied, "Charline, calling me at 9 is like calling me at 3 a.m." He regularly chartered jets for nights and weekends with his crew in Las Vegas. Every summer, he and Lance Davis, a friend, would visit San Diego, drive across the Mexican border, and hit Tijuana to watch bullfighting. "Then he'd tell me, 'Lance, they drag that bull out back and make it into tacos,'" Davis said. "So we'd eat tacos. He'd laugh at me—'Lance, you're eating the bull! You're eating the bull!'"
Thanks to Pickfair, the good times came to Buss. On a monthly basis, he allowed different charitable foundations to hold fundraisers on the Pickfair lawn. Though the philanthropic Buss was well intentioned, the events often went deep into the night, a cesspool of alcohol and sex and—on occasion—cocaine. "I went to work for Jerry after I was done playing (in 1983), so sometimes I'd go to Pickfair for parties," said Ron Carter, the former Lakers guard. "I learned quickly I couldn't go and hang with him and still make it to the office the next morning. I got married to get away from Jerry. That wasn't a life I could live."
If the goings-on at Pickfair were wild, the events hosted by Johnson were orgasmic. The star point guard had lived in one of Buss's apartment complexes until 1984, when he purchased his own 9,000-square-foot Bel Air mansion. Though not quite as awe-inspiring as Pickfair, Johnson's Tudor home had once belonged to the French consulate, and contained (among other things) an indoor racquetball-basketball court, a sauna, a whirlpool, and a disco complete with strobe lights and thousands of records. Alongside the master bedroom was a tiny room with a sunken hot tub and a panoramic view of the canyon his home overlooked. The house also boasted something close to his heart—the greatest stereo system anyone had ever seen. With speakers the size of Cadillacs, the 18 rooms filled with the sounds of Michael Jackson and Earth, Wind & Fire, and Marvin Gaye.
While Johnson didn't host as many shindigs as Buss, the ones that took place were beyond compare. The Lakers point guard neither drank alcohol nor did drugs, but his parties were odes to excess and extravagance. Many Lakers agree the most beautiful women they ever met were encountered at Johnson's. They were models, strippers, actresses, exotic dancers. There was no hotter ticket than an invite to the mansion, but—while Laker players and opponents were almost always allowed—women had to meet certain criteria. First, they had to be gorgeous. Second, they had to be promiscuously dressed. Third, they had to be willing to do . . . things.
Johnson fancied himself not merely an entertainer, but a maestro. "If you ever die and go to heaven, you want heaven to be Magic's house parties," said Frank Brickowski, a future Lakers teammate. "He would have the finest girls in L.A. there. The absolute finest. And at midnight you had to get busy with somebody or you had to get the **** out. So if you were a guy, at midnight you'd get as close as you could to the hottest possible woman. Magic went around in this freaky voyeuristic way. He'd check on you. He'd go throughout the house, the pool. He'd order people to start doing things. All you had to be was near a chick. There were guys who would yell, 'Magic, she's not getting busy! She's not!' He'd run over and she'd get busy. Celebrity is seductive in L.A. Girls have this desperation about them, like moths to a flame. It's sad. But when you're young and single, fame matters."
Just because one was a Laker didn't mean sexual conquests always came easily. Yet Johnson wasn't merely the most eligible bachelor in Los Angeles—he was the most eligible bachelor in California. He once wrote of his rendezvous: "Some were secretaries. Some were lawyers. Quite a few were actresses or models. Others were teachers, editors, accountants, or entrepreneurs. There were bimbos, too, but not that many. Most of these women were college-educated professionals. Some were black, some were white, some were Hispanic, or Asian. Some of these women were very open about what they were doing, and some were more discreet. A few would even brag about all the players they had slept with. For others, this was all a part of a very secret life.
"Most of them were in their mid-20s. Every now and then you'd come across a teenager, but if you were smart you stayed away from her. These kids were simply too young—not only legally, but emotionally, too."
This was the Sodom and Gomorrah-esque world that greeted A. C. Green.
He was the Lakers' latest first-round pick, a 21-year-old power forward out of Oregon State whose drive and hustle made him, on paper, a perfect fit for a team that specialized in all-out effort. Having wasted his previous top selection on Earl Jones, Jerry West (not one to forgive himself ) was determined to make sure Los Angeles landed a contributor in the 23 spot. Leading up to June 18, 1985, most of the team's scouts and executives were pushing for Terry Porter, a 6-foot-3 guard out of the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point. Porter had averaged 19.7 points and 5.2 rebounds as a senior, and Gene Tormohlen, the Lakers's top scout, insisted he was a potential star. "I just thought he had the chance to become excellent," said Tormohlen. "He would take the pressure off Earvin, sort of like Norman once did. But Jerry was sold on A.C., and when Jerry's sold on someone . . ."
West liked that Green played without an ego. When the Beavers needed him to score, he scored. When they needed him to rebound, he rebounded. There were hundreds of minutes of Oregon State game tapes inside the Forum offices, and not once did Green appear to mope, whine, or talk trash. He was a power forward in the most traditional of models—hammer the boards, block shots, charge ahead, work to the point of exhaustion. "He had no airs about him," said Roger Levasa, an Oregon State football player and close friend. "A.C. wasn't cocky or arrogant or someone who thought being athletic made him special. He just wanted to do well and do the right thing."
There was just one small problem: A. C. Green was a virgin.
By "problem," one means not to imply that avoiding premarital sex is somehow wrong. No, it's just that, on the Lakers, virginity wasn't mocked or ridiculed—it was impossible. From Johnson and Abdul-Jabbar to Michael Cooper and James Worthy, Los Angeles's players came to appreciate the special carnal perk of being a member of basketball's elite team. There was sex to be had, and more sex to be had. There were strip clubs to be visited, prostitutes to call, groupie fantasies to fulfill.
Virginity? Virginity was for priests.
Even before Green reported to the team, players shared among themselves his off-the-court scouting report.
Apparently Magic Johnson Made All His Teammates Except A.C. Green Have Orgies At His House At Midnight
Do you remember A.C. Green? If so, then you’re really old. Dude was the NBA’s Iron Man in the late 80’s and 90’s. He was also known for being the only guy in the NBA who was a virgin. He was Tim Tebow and Cal Ripken, except without the steroids. Well, I just read this book called Showtime: Magic, Kareem, Riley, and the Los Angeles Lakers Dynasty of the 1980s, and it’s basically the best book I’ve ever read. Tells the story of all the debauchery of the showtime Lakers with the short shorts. Basically, A.C. Green couldn’t have played on a team with more temptation than L.A. Here’s some of my favorite excerpts:
Many Lakers agree the most beautiful women they ever met were encountered at Johnson’s. They were models, strippers, actresses, exotic dancers. There was no hotter ticket than an invite to the mansion, but—while Laker players and opponents were almost always allowed—women had to meet certain criteria. First, they had to be gorgeous. Second, they had to be promiscuously dressed. Third, they had to be willing to do . . . things.
Johnson fancied himself not merely an entertainer, but a maestro. “If you ever die and go to heaven, you want heaven to be Magic’s house parties,” said Frank Brickowski, a future Lakers teammate. “He would have the finest girls in L.A. there. The absolute finest. And at midnight you had to get busy with somebody or you had to get the **** out. So if you were a guy, at midnight you’d get as close as you could to the hottest possible woman. Magic went around in this freaky voyeuristic way. He’d check on you. He’d go throughout the house, the pool. He’d order people to start doing things. All you had to be was near a chick. There were guys who would yell, ‘Magic, she’s not getting busy! She’s not!’ He’d run over and she’d get busy. Celebrity is seductive in L.A. Girls have this desperation about them, like moths to a flame. It’s sad. But when you’re young and single, fame matters.”
Nothing to see here. Just Magic Johnson tiptoeing around his mansion demanding that his house guests fornicate with each other at the stroke of midnight. WTF kind of situation was this? Apparently Magic was more than just the leader on the hardwood. When a loose morale woman isn’t putting out, you call the Magic 8 Ball.
ust because one was a Laker didn’t mean sexual conquests always came easily. Yet Johnson wasn’t merely the most eligible bachelor in Los Angeles—he was the most eligible bachelor in California. He once wrote of his rendezvous: “Some were secretaries. Some were lawyers. Quite a few were actresses or models. Others were teachers, editors, accountants, or entrepreneurs. There were bimbos, too, but not that many. Most of these women were college-educated professionals. Some were black, some were white, some were Hispanic, or Asian. Some of these women were very open about what they were doing, and some were more discreet. A few would even brag about all the players they had slept with. For others, this was all a part of a very secret life.
“Most of them were in their mid-20s. Every now and then you’d come across a teenager, but if you were smart you stayed away from her. These kids were simply too young—not only legally, but emotionally, too.”
This was the Sodom and Gomorrah-esque world that greeted A. C. Green.
I can’t believe he got AIDS. I just can’t believe how that could’ve possibly happened.
The team opened with a two-game Texas road swing at San Antonio and Dallas, and Johnson and company wasted little time. While taking the bus from the San Antonio International Airport to the hotel, the Laker star yelled toward Green, “Rook, we haven’t figured you out yet, but we’re going to take a bet.”
“What sort of bet?” the rookie asked.
“Once you start seeing these girls around the NBA,” he said, “you won’t be thinking any of that Christian and God stuff.”
“Really?” said Green. “You think so?”
Johnson liked the newcomer’s confidence. He also laughed at it. The NBA was the land of long legs and quick bangs. Few could resist its charms. “We’ll give you two months, and you’ll be done,” he said. “Two months.” Johnson removed the baseball cap from his head and passed it around, urging his teammates to plunk down some money. By the time the hat returned to its owner, Green was staring at nearly $300 in crumpled bills. “You don’t get laid once in two months, the money’s yours,” said Johnson. “But there’s no ****ing way. . . .”
$300? Every dooshnozzle on that bus was a millionaire. And Magic thinks he’s gonna get A.C. Green to flip for a whopping $300 bucks? No wonder he’s such a dumbass.
Less than a month later, the Lakers were in Portland to face the Blazers. Green, who was reared in the city, scored 11 points in 27 minutes of action (“I played lousy,” he said), and afterward stood outside the locker room, chatting away with a striking young woman. “I saw all the guys sorta looking over, wondering what was going on,” Green recalled. “Finally someone comes over and says, ‘Hey, rookie, who is this?'”
Green smiled. “Oh, meet Vanessa,” he said. “My sister.”
And that was a night filled with Magic for A.C. Green’s sister.
Seriously though, good for A.C. Green. He’s got every man’s dream dropped in his lap and he’s basically being bullied into an orgy, but yet he just laughs it off like it ain’t no thang. Like it must’ve just eaten Magic alive that he could make anyone of his teammates sleep with some girl who doesn’t love them on command. While he watched. But A.C. Green was in complete control at all times. Just laughing on the inside while he tells himself, “Lol, that’s why I don’t AIDS and you do.”
Bottom line is that A.C. Green was a virgin before it was cool to be a virgin. So suck on that Brittany Spears, Lolo Jones, and Tebow.
Frontline Documentary About 'AIDS in Black America' Still Doesn't Reveal Who Gave Magic Johnson HIV
For more than 20 years, Magic Johnson has been HIV positive—but it's never been revealed who he contracted it from. Last night on PBS's Frontline documentary, "AIDS in Black America," Magic disclosed the same vague answer he's given the press since 1991: "Sleeping with a lot of women."
Still, it seems odd that there's been no follow-up about which of these women was HIV positive. Or how many. Given the media environment in 1991 and Magic's impact on the culture at that time, asking about his private life was akin to asking Rudy Giuliani if he thought 9/11 was an inside job four hours after the Twin Towers fell. But since then, the story wasn't advanced any further.
About three years ago, while I was editor at Deadspin, there was talk of a Hollywood Babylon-level conspiracy that was making the rounds in the LA nightlife scene. The story went that Magic, like most of his Los Angeles Lakers teammates, was caught up in so many orgiastic LA house parties and had so many random groupie ****-buddies that tracking down Magic's female Patient Zero would be almost impossible. But then, another source said that Magic's ex-teammate, Norm Nixon, had started floating a different scenario: that Magic most likely contracted HIV during an infamous sex party at Eddie Murphy's mansion, where often times, transsexual hookers were involved.
Obviously, Murphy's transsexual, uhm, "interests" were already publicized after his embarrassing pull-over incident in 1997. Our source pressed a little bit and never tracked down Nixon, but said he had other people willing to verify Magic's non-female proclivities on the record. The source would only do so for a large sum of money that was too expensive for Gawker Media, let alone Deadspin. It's also one that no one ever seems to be willing to press hard enough on—instead, everyone's interest has been stuck on the fact that Magic is said to have slept with 300-500 women per year throughout his career.
The female-to-male HIV statistics from that time suggest even with Magic's super-sized sexual prowess, he was still in a very, very small percentage. In her book AIDS and the Heterosexual Problem, for example, Lorraine Sherr writes that so few women are infected, female-to-male transmission rates are somewhere between 0 and 33% worldwide. She adds that in 1989-1992, "the risk of acquiring HIV from a single heterosexual contact from an infected woman to a man is estimated to be anywhere from twice to twenty times less likely than transmission from men to women." Additionally, studies conducted in Thailand in 1994 showed an "estimated probability of HIV-1 transmission per sexual contact to be 0.031" from female-to-male transmission.
And, still, none of these women who've ever slept with Magic Johnson seemed opportunistic enough to step forward and tell their tale. Neither have the transsexual prostitutes. So once again, the story of Magic's HIV survival takes front and center over how he actually got it. That Frontline documentary will have to wait for another day.
If anyone has any more information about who gave Magic Johnson HIV, please feel free to contact us. I think we can afford to pay more money for this now. Please email me at [email protected] with information. Thanks.
Spurred by a Frontline documentary on AIDS and the African American community, Gawker posted a blog saying they doubt Magic Johnson really got AIDS as he said he did--by sleeping with a lot of women, which they consider low-risk activity.
They even offer a bounty to anyone who can offer info as to how Magic really got it.
(They mention certain orgy parties with transsexual hookers, which Johnson may or may not have been at.)
Hmm.
I'm all for information and enlightenment, but:
*Low-risk is still risk!
*Transsexual hookers are still women!
*No one will ever be able to know how Magic got infected. There's no way to pinpoint the exact moment and cause of infection so many years after the fact. This isn't like a murder, where you can dig up DNA evidence and witnesses.
So this is all a pointless exercise in attention grabbing.
But at least it's hitting on something we've all thought about:
Magic went around in this freaky voyeuristic way. He'd check on you. He'd go throughout the house, the pool. He'd order people to start doing things. All you had to be was near a chick. There were guys who would yell, 'Magic, she's not getting busy! She's not!' He'd run over and she'd get busy. Celebrity is seductive in L.A. Girls have this desperation about them, like moths to a flame. It's sad. But when you're young and single, fame matters."
Just because one was a Laker didn't mean sexual conquests always came easily. Yet Johnson wasn't merely the most eligible bachelor in Los Angeles—he was the most eligible bachelor in California. He once wrote of his rendezvous: "Some were secretaries. Some were lawyers. Quite a few were actresses or models. Others were teachers, editors, accountants, or entrepreneurs. There were bimbos, too, but not that many. Most of these women were college-educated professionals. Some were black, some were white, some were Hispanic, or Asian. Some of these women were very open about what they were doing, and some were more discreet. A few would even brag about all the players they had slept with. For others, this was all a part of a very secret life.
"Most of them were in their mid-20s. Every now and then you'd come across a teenager, but if you were smart you stayed away from her. These kids were simply too young—not only legally, but emotionally, too."
This was the Sodom and Gomorrah-esque world that greeted A. C. Green.
So what that guy who needed his birthday suit ironed said about him was true. Figet im name. De ole guy who was rooksin V. Simpriano. Hey I guess her 15 minutes of fame are up.
After all this bad behaviour he was STILL able to find someone to marry him.
Apparently Magic Johnson Made All His Teammates Except A.C. Green Have Orgies At His House At Midnight
So what that guy who needed his birthday suit ironed said about him was true. Figet im name. De ole guy who was :rooksin" V. Simpriano. Hey I guess her 15 minutes of fame are up.
After all this bad behaviour he was STILL able to find someone to marry him.
so now yuh ovatand mii bird aff a feather flock tiggithar camment bout imm ann buss
plus itt give yuh insight y imm so acceptinn aff imm funnee son woo wear dresses in public
You are falling down on the job and about to lose your monopoly on mzungu playting topics to me.
How come you nevah post bout de real slut whose real life experience inspired the TV show Scandal.
The real-life inspiration behind ABC's hit show "Scandal" has helped celebrities, politicians and major companies deal with a variety of issues. Shown in 2002, Judy Smith acted as the spokeswoman for the family of Washington intern Chandra Levy, who disappeared in 2001 and was revealed to have had an affair with Gary Condit, then a U.S. congressman from California.
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Oh! 
to tell you the truth, when mi see certain titles me noh even baddah fi click pon de link. 
You are falling down on the job and about to lose your monopoly on mzungu playting topics to me. 
slut whose real life experience inspired the TV show Scandal. 
mi did..... 
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