"But even as I bridle at memories of being objectified, I recognize the artistry with which Playboy treated the centerfold in its early years."

"In those days, the women were photographed as genuine pinups, wholesome and lovely – not anatomical gynecological studies. Playmates were the women in the frayed gatefolds that GIs of the Korean and Vietnam wars lovingly placed inside their helmets as talismans, their inspiration during the worst of times, their tender memories of home and American values. GIs and Glamour Girls were always an indivisible partnership."

Writes Victoria Valentino, who feels that after fleeting celebrity as a Playboy centerfold in 1963, she was not taken seriously as an actress and "never got to play Shakespeare’s eloquent, brave lead female character, Portia, in 'The Merchant of Venice,' on the big stage" and "never got to sing and dance on Broadway or win a Tony."

That's at The Wasthington Post, where the top-rated comment is:

Oh, what a shame! If Miss September hadn't lowered herself to pose nude for Playboy, she could have played Portia and won a Tony! (Whispering now: On the other hand, it's more likely that no one would ever have heard of her if she hadn't shed her duds for Hugh.)

And one more reality: Having been a soldier in Vietnam, I can assure the good lady that the soldiers who cherished her centerfold didn't do it "to sustain themselves through the trauma of war, they would imagine coming home to me and telling me about their experiences." No, Sweetie, they had something entirely different in mind, and your photo was a great source of stimulation.

Sheesh.