Hugh Hefner finally traded in his pajamas and pipe for – something. Probably not a harp. The geriatric germinator passed away appropriately on “hump day,” thereby inspiring much nostalgia and a million bad jokes on Twitter.
To me, Hugh Hefner was a lot like booze, particularly in my younger days: He was (partly) responsible for the best of times, but also (partly) responsible for the worst of times. If you were a teenage whippersnapper in the 1970s, Hefner and his magazine made you want to grow up fast — or worse, not grow up at all.
My favorite Hefner squeeze was Barbi Benton. Benton was on the cover of the first Playboy magazine I was able to successfully purchase, in the winter of 1970, when a bored cashier at Dayton’s didn’t seem to care that the 12-year-old, nervous boy in front of him was shaking like Colin Kaepernick in a VFW hall.
Here is the cover of my prized possession. That’s the bodacious Ms. Benton giving you the come-hither:
Below, Barbi frolics on the grounds of Hefner’s Playboy mansion in California. Below that, a clip of her appearance in 1982’s Hospital Massacre, for which she was nominated for an Academy Award. Just kidding.
“This is an island, surrounded by water. Big water, ocean water.”
– Donald Trump discussing Puerto Rico
That’s something you have to admire about President Trump. He has the ability to take complex ideas and describe them in terms that all of us can understand.
Well, if that had been true, it might explain a thing or two.
While I was mourning Hugh Hefner’s death, I began to muse about some other heroes of my misbegotten youth, and I wondered about the first and best James Bond, Sean Connery. I Googled him and discovered the following “news” items:
Poor Sean Connery. Internet hoaxters wouldn’t have had the balls to pull this kind of crap back in the day.
© 2010-2021 grouchyeditor.com (text only)