Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Fried Chicken Wednesday: Hugh Hefner

This is one of those times when I just need to come clean and admit that I cannot begin to explain my fascination with Hugh Hefner...

The BBW cannot explain why, as a life-long feminist, I actually used to watch full episodes of The Girls Next Door.  I cannot explain how I was able to use an article from Playboy magazine in a course I taught and not get into trouble.  I cannot explain why I kinda dig the bunny costumes.  And I cannot explain why the cancellation of Hefner's wedding to a woman old enough to be his granddaughter has me wishing that he would jump on a scooter and make his way back to Holly Madison before time runs out.

Does this qualify as an eight-piece meal with sides?

Not that I was paying any real attention to Hefner lately, but when I saw the news flash yesterday that his wedding was off, I actually clicked the link and read the article.  Then I read another article.  And then I wondered if he had heard from Holly or any other former bottom girl playmates.  And then I wondered why in the heck I cared!

And honestly, I don't...except I think this is all kind of sad and pathetic.  Here is this super rich jive turkey of an old man who cannot keep a woman!  He has more ex-girlfriends than King Solomon had wives.  I get the feeling that a while a lot of men might fantasize about trading places with him, none of them would because who wants to be a Viagra-addicted, pajama-clad, 85 year-old living with a harem of gold-digging wannabes?  He thinks he controls them by doling out allowances, mandating curfews and requiring weekly sex, but clearly, they have had the upper hand for years. 

This latest one dumped him the day before she released her single.  The original "Girls" got to be on TV and in the magazine, and then went on to have their own spin-off shows on the same network after leaving the mansion (except for Bridget, ironically, the one with real talent).  A string of actresses and aspiring models have used their centerfold spreads to jump-start their careers (Marilyn Monroe, Jayne Mansfield, Anna Nicole Smith, Carmen Electra, Jennie McCarthy, Kim Kardashian, and so on and so on).  And all it cost them was a little sex.

Not that I am calling anyone a prostitute nor can I prove that every playmate has been with Hefner, but none of it matters since it is all an illusion anyway.  Hefner was never in the business of selling reality.  Most women cannot rely on airbrushing and silicone implants, and most men are lucky to satisfy one woman for a lifetime.  Hugh Hefner may have built himself an empire, but now he is just like that old emperor with no clothes on.

And all this time you thought it was the women who were exposed.  If Hugh Hefner was a chicken dinner, he would be chicken nuggets...a mish-mash of chicken parts fried in batter.

Think about it: the medieval castle in California of all places; the menagerie of exotic animals and birds; the disease-spreading grotto jacuzzi; the velvet drapes and wood paneling; and the aging king dressed for a night out on the town in his trademark Tony-Curtis-as-an-oil-magnate sailor outfit--all of it is just one grand mirage.

So I am pulling for a reconciliation with Holly so that Hefner can live out the rest of his life with a woman who admits to loving him in spite of himself.  Just another aspiring actress?  Maybe, but that is his type and the last one was just planning to mark time as his trophy wife until her career took off or he died, whichever came first.  So hop to it!

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