Private Parts

by Howard Stern

  I haven't seen Richard for almost a year and I really miss him, but he's pissed because he thinks I've gone too far discussing his sexuality. We had a lot of fun together off and on the air. He calls a lot and leaves messages that he wants to come out and see our new baby -- after all, he did name her Ashley -- but I refuse to see him until he returns to my radio show, the show that revived his career.

 

  "I think he's great." -- Sting

  AL HENDRIX

  FATHER OF JIM! HENDRIX

  "You shoulda had a lotta kids," I told Al," 'cause you got talented sperm. Seriously, did you ever look at your own sperm and go, 'My God, I wonder if there's another Jimi inside me?' Did anyone ever approach you about your sperm?"

  "No." He seemed befuddled.

  "Jimi's male member was legendary. Mr. Hendrix, is he a chip off the old block?" I wondered.

  "Who's this?" he asked.

  "Did Jimi inherit your huge size in the male-member category?"

  "I'm ordinary," he said, modestly.

  "Really?" I was surprised. "You're ordinary? Because Jimi was legendary for the size of his penis. When he was a little boy, did you know? Was that how you picked him up?"

  "He was average," Al said.

  It sounded as if the whole family was hung like horses.

  "He was average? When did he get to be so large? I guess in his teenage years," I said. "Mr. Hendrix, seriously, didn't he get it from you? Because Robin'll be over there in a minute if you say yes. He did get it from you, didn't he?" Silence ... Hendrix was befuddled. "All right, I understand. You're a little shy about that. What's the most embarrassing thing you ever caught Jimi doing?"

  "Playing the broom's about the only thing," Al said.

  We all laughed.

  "He was making believe the broom was a guitar."

  "Oh, I thought you meant something else. I call that playing the broom, too," I said.

  MARK HARRIS

  HUSBAND OF MARTHA RAYE

  One of my favorite guests in the sex revelation arena is Mark Harris, the young man who married the very ancient comedienne

  Martha Raye. The first time he came on, Mark was very reticent to talk about both his sexual relationship with Martha and his sexual relationship with the rest of the world, possibly because he was in line to inherit her five-million-plus estate when she finally kicked. But we did find out that the first time he met Martha he washed her hair, hair which hadn't been washed for over a year and a half. He also revealed that he was smitten with Martha because she, like his mother, was a stroke survivor.

  He told us that he masturbated to relieve his sexual drive, but not with Martha in the room, doesn't use a picture of Martha to get off, and (SURPRISE!) he had sex with a man. Yes, he said, and a very famous one who he wouldn't reveal. BINGO!

  It's always weird when a guy says to me, "Yeah, I've had homosexual sex, but not with that many guys." One sounds like plenty to me.

  "Any farm animals? Did you pitch or catch?"

  "Catch," Mark said. "Oh, you're talking about sex! I'm talking about baseball. No, I've never bent over, not even for a banana peel." Everybody's a comedian. Then he talked about the weirdest sex he probably ever had: making it with Martha! Martha proposed to him through her nurse, he told us. He wasn't sexually attracted to her at first; it was more of a business-type marriage, to protect her estate from relatives.

  "Now what got you hot when you saw her? Was the wheelchair especially shiny?" I probed.

  He avoided the question. I asked him about their wedding night, the night they consummated this strange union. "You didn't plan to have sex with her?" "No."

 

  Joining us for Homeless

  Howiewood Squares, where the downtrodden win prizes.

  "Are you sure it wasn't the nurse you banged when the lights went out?"

  He described the scene. Martha was in a trousseau and he was nude except for a silk robe.

  "Are the teeth in or out?" I asked.

  "In."

  "Did the nurse do anything to prepare her sexually for you? Any jellies?"

  "I really would have to ask the nurse," he said.

  "You unwrapped your robe and you were completely nude in front of her?"

  "No, I lay beside her, and we were talking and I was drinking champagne and she unwrapped me -- let's say," he said.

  "She unwrapped you like a birthday present!" I exulted.

  "Like a cigar! This is getting crazy!"

  "And then you leaned over and you began to kiss?"

  "Absolutely. Lovingly."

  "Were her hands scaly or smooth?"

  "Very beautiful."

  "And you went all the way with her that night?"

  "Would you like to know that before the evening was over, in the wee hours of the morning, we all wound up in the hospital," he reported.

  "Why? Martha had another stroke?"

  "Abdominal pains," he bragged.

  "So from your lovemaking she experienced some pain?"

  "Take it as you wish," he said.

  ANDREW "DICE" CLAY

  Replies

  Not everyone loved hearing Mark. One time, when I had him on, Andrew "Dice" Clay called in. Dice is always brutal, always great. His call in to Mark Harris was a classic:

  "I'm getting sick and tired of parasite faggots like you," the Diceman started. "You want to tell me you're in love with her? You want to tell me you fucked somebody that shoulda been dead thirty years ago and nobody told her yet?" Everyone went wild. Mark started yelling at Dice but Dice kept at him.

  "What about young girls with big boobs and great asses? You don't

  like that? What does he do when he sees a real chick, like one from this century, walking around? Harris, you're a parasite."

  DICK CAVE TT

  I always love having Cavett on because I know he's good for some juicy stories. They usually center on his various mental ailments and the drugs he was taking to combat them. I was convinced that he wasn't on antidepressants but antiratings drugs. Dick said that his mental problems were in no way connected to the abysmal ratings his shows always seemed to produce.

  "What's worse, Dick, when they cancel one of your shows or when they cancel one of your prescriptions?"

  He didn't answer. He did come through with an amazing abuse story. He said that he was molested when he was a kid growing up in Nebraska. I claimed that this was merely a career move to get on the Arsenio show, but Dick gave us some details. He was five years old and at a Hopalong Cassidy movie and there was a guy sitting next to him with his raincoat over his lap. The guy said, "Put your hand under here and squeeze."

  "Did you?" I probed.

  "Sure, because I wanted to see the rest of the movie," he said.

  "Homo!" I coughed.

  "Likes boys!" Fred coughed.

  "Loves testicles!" Jackie cleared his throat.

 

  Hugging Dick.

  SYLVESTER STALLONE

  Sylvester called in to my show and didn't plug anything. That's a big plus. At the time he had just done two comedies and I yelled at him for a good five minutes. I gave him some good advice: "Keep doing action pictures." God bless Rambo. I love Rambo.

  All you action guys always want to branch out. I would make action films all day and night. The more blood, the more gore, the more banging girls, the better.

  After imparting my career wisdom, I told him that if his girlfriend, supermodel Jennifer Flavin, was MY girlfriend, I'd make love to her three times a day.

  "When you left the room there'd be nothing left but a black smoky hole," Sylvester said. Then he revealed that he especially liked the segment on my TV show featuring the Kielbasa Queen, a lady whose prodigious talent consisted of being able to deep-throat an entire massive sausage.

  "You know what? We watched that show last week and I tried to ram a thermos down Jennifer's throat," Stallone wisecracked.

  Then in a gesture of complete trust, he did somethin
g very un-Hollywood. He put his hot girlfriend on the phone.

  In my own devious and subtle way I got her talking about sex.

  "So, when you met Sly, what were you wearing?"

  "A miniskirt," she said in her innocent-little-girl voice.

  "Was it the miniest of micro miniskirts? Were you wearing panties under that miniskirt? Were they thong underpants? Were you wearing a bra under your shirt? Was the shirt the kind of shirt that exposes your rock-hard belly? Did Sly nail you on the first date?"

  "No," she shyly answered.

  "On the second date?"

  "NO, NO!" she protested. I imagined she was fingering herself with her dainty nineteen-year-old feminine hand the entire time we spoke.

  "Were you a virgin when you met Sly?" I whispered.

  "Practically. I only had one guy before Sly. My high school sweetheart."

  Her pussy must have smelled like daisies, I imagined as I clutched my hot beef. I shuddered.

  "After a month, Sly asked me to go to Hawaii with him. But my

  mom wouldn't let me go unless she had a serious talk with him. Then when we got there, she called me every day."

  "So, did you make love in Hawaii?"

  "Yes," she giggled like the near-virgin she was. I imagined her clitoris was heating up with passion. All this sex talk had to be making her hot.

  "Sly's a painter. Did he paint you in the nude in Hawaii? Did you wear a thong on the beach?"

  "No," she giggled.

  "A bikini?"

  "Yes."

  "Then Sly and you check into this room and like you guys had never made love before?"

  "Right," she sweetly answered.

  "Weren't you nervous?" I sensitively asked, as I gently fingered my asshole.

  "Yes," she giggled orgasmically. "Was Sly gentle?" I asked. "I would have been so rough." I would have tied her up spread-eagled, poured cement up her ass, and sucked it out with a straw. The bitch would have crumbled with desire. I would have filled her love pouch with my cock cheese while she did the schmega-hiney dance.

  "Did you guys go to a nude beach? Did you fuck in the woods? Did you suck him off? Did you beat his meat? Were you jerkin' his gherkin?" -- I forgot to ask.

  Sly stopped the conversation and grabbed the phone: "She learned everything she knows from her first boyfriend."

  Great guests. I'm still waiting for them to call back.

 

  "I love him, I really love him." -- Sylvester Stallone

  THE WACKY STALLONE FAMILY

  I could write a whole chapter about my exploits with the wacky Stallone family. You never know what's going to happen. Especially when Jackie, Stallone's mother, shows up. If she isn't making some cuckoo astrological predictions or claiming that Jesse Jackson offered her the vice presidential spot in 1988, she's having huge

  fights with her ex-husband. They were reunited for the first time in six years when Frank Sr. called in when Jackie was in the studio. They seemed to be having a pleasant enough conversation but then Jackie got real and revealed that Frank was the one who got tired of sleeping with her.

  "Let me tell you, when she was pregnant with Sylvester, she put on sixty-five pounds," Frank Sr. said.

  "I did not!" Jackie maintained.

  Soon after, he hung up and Jackie started whispering, not realizing she was still on the air.

  "Thank God I said the right things about him, or he woulda shot me. He was the worst lay in the world." We all cracked up. But we weren't laughing the next time these two tangled horns.

  "He couldn't get it up when he was twenty-five," Jackie complained about her seventy-two-year-old ex-husband, who was now dating a twenty-five-year-old he'd met when she was seventeen. "What's he doing with her?" she railed. It didn't take long for Gary to come in and tell us that Frank Sr. was on the phone.

  "I'm ready to jump through this phone. I just can't believe this wrinkly, messy, vulgar woman saying things about her own family that just won't quit!" he bellowed. "She is probably the lowest vermin that I've ever known in my life and it was a sorry day when I met her."

  "Listen, you pig," Jackie countered, "let me tell you, you old son of a bitch. You beat me up and put me in the hospital so many times, and choked me to death so many times, and you like to go on the air and say you're basically a nice guy. You prick -- you never supported your kids. You never gave a goddamn for -- "

  "You are the biggest goddamn liar!" he screamed.

  "Fuck you!" Jackie said and we screamed. Thank God for seven-second delay.

  "Get this slob off the phone!" Jackie ordered.

  "You were nothing when I met you," Frank said.

  "What the hell are you doing with an eighteen-year-old girl?" Jackie wondered.

  "She's giving me more than you ever could, that's what."

  "What the hell did you ever give me, you old bastard? I supported you for years. You goddamn half-ass hairdresser. I opened the business, I put you to work, and then you stole all the money. And I

  bought the house and goddamnit, you put a gun to my head and made me sign it over to you for another old broad married to a cabdriver with five kids who dumped you six months later," Jackie railed.

  "You are absolutely insane!" Frank said.

  "You can go to hell! And don't you ever talk to me again, you fucking creep! You gave me no pleasure. Goddamnit, you couldn't even fuck!"

  "Whoaaa, wait a second," I jumped in. "You're gonna lose our license. I can't bleep you that fast." Jackie was still yelling off-mike while I waited for the delay to build up. I begged her not to use the f-word.

  "I won't use the f-word, but as far as sex -- twice a year, he'd say, 'Okay, if you're ready, lay down.' And then if I pretended I was excited, he said, 'Look, if you're gonna act like you're excited, forget it!' You're from hunger!" she screamed. "He'd bring home bushels of tomatoes and peppers and tell me to can them. I'm not an Italian housewife. What do I know about canning? He punched me in the jaw."

  "Why don't you keep quiet and listen to the truth?" he said.

  "That is the truth!"

  "You're insane!"

  "Well, I had to be to have you," she said.

  "You are insane, woman."

  "But you two produced a movie star" I offered helpfully.

  "No help from him. Any guy coulda done the job in three seconds. He didn't even want Sylvester -- he tried to get me to have an abortion! Yes, you did! And I pretended I got one. You were very surprised to find out I had a kid."

  "Is that true, Mr. Stallone?" I asked.

  "It certainly is!" Jackie butted in.

  "She's really off her rocker," he said.

  "You didn't want this kid and you know it!" Jackie screamed.

  "You remind me of an old crinkled-up Genoa salami. That's all you will be all your life. Good-bye!" he yelled and hung up.

  "You know, you have to say to yourself, Why? Why? Why?" I questioned. "Why does this have to happen at ten-thirty? Why can't it happen during drive time at seven o'clock? I'll have to replay this tomorrow at seven."

  FRANK STALLONE, JR.

  I even got Frank Jr. in on the act. I skillfully interrogated Frank on his relationship to his superfamous sibling, utilizing my best Perry Mason.

  "You and Sylvester never tickled each other?"

  "No."

  "You never saw Sylvester naked?"

  "Of course, he's my brother."

  "Did you admire his large penis?"

  "No."

  "You didn't even look at it? Did you look at his genitals? Have you seen your brother's genitals?"

  "Of course!"

  "And you looked at them, is that correct?"

  "Of course."

  "So you do admit to looking at your brother's genitals?"

  "Looking at -- no. It was like a glance."

  "Did you look at Sylvester Stallone's genitals? Answer the question."

  "It wasn't like sitting there beaming in."

  "No, but did you see them? Yes?"
>
  "Of course I've seen them because we're brothers."

  "Did you compare who was bigger?"

  "Uh, yes."

  "You did. So you admit now, not only looking at your brother's genitals but doing..."

  "No, I was doing this in my own mind."

  "Oh, in your mind you were thinking about Sylvester's penis. Admit it!"

  "No, no, no, no."

  "All right, so there you go. You're as homo as I am," I said triumphantly. "I shoulda been a lawyer."

 

  "His show is great! He possesses brilliance." -- Billy Dee Williams

 

  "Stern's conversation is... the national id run wild.... His over-the-top humor draws a road map of American society's taboos of public and private behavior and brings them audaciously, often hilariously, into the open."

  -- Richard Zoglin, Time magazine

  CHIP Z'NUFF

  ROCK STAR FROM THE BAND ENUFF Z'NUFF

  It started out innocently enough when I was asking Chip and Donnie, the two rock stars from the band Enuff Z'Nuff, if they got any famous women. Enuff Z'Nuff is one of my favorites, and I cannot believe that, after three albums, they are not superstars.

  "Chip got Madonna," Donnie squealed. "He got her back when she was a drummer in L.A."

  "Is that true, Chip?" I was out of my mind. "You nailed Madonna? Let me smell your hand!" "I ain't telling," Chip said.

  "Did you smack her around? I can't believe you got Madonna and you never told me in private!"

  The next time they came on, Chip was foolish enough to tell me the details of what happened before we went on the air. He said he had sex with Madonna and peed inside her. We argued, because I said that it was impossible to pee inside of a woman. It was impossible to carry on with this graphic discussion on the radio, so I cleaned up the story a little. But I couldn't wait to talk about it.

  "These guys told me what went on with Madonna!" I teased. "Robin, if I told you, you couldn't do the news. It would be the news!" At a break we told Robin. Then she started in. "Was it out of disgust? Was it an accident or did you really want to?" she wondered.

  It was time to go for it. "Chip, no kidding, Madonna goes for that? Did she get mad? These guys use women as a toilet and I'm sexist?" I blurted out.