Cheeseburger Gothic

The maximum playboy goes to the hot tub in the sky. Or Hell. One or the other

Posted September 29, 2017 by John Birmingham

Yeah. I went there.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, prevent the Bunnies crying with a sexy saxophone. Silence the eight-track disco, and with a muffled drum, bring out the tiger fur-lined coffin, let the mourners come. Let the Playboy Jet circle overhead, scribbling on the sky the message, Hef is dead.

The alpha perv is no more.

So glad they turned off the comments on this one.

13 Responses to ‘The maximum playboy goes to the hot tub in the sky. Or Hell. One or the other’

insomniac reckons...

Posted September 29, 2017
So I take it that you now own the crown for the largest collection of bunnies.

John Birmingham is gonna tell you...

Posted September 29, 2017
I am the King.

insomniac would have you know...

Posted September 29, 2017
It does appear as if Hef was the wan King.

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jl puts forth...

Posted September 29, 2017
I owe the Hef. The first naked woman I ever saw was due to him, in some 1970's issue of Playboy that my older brother found somewhere.

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Dave W ducks in to say...

Posted September 29, 2017
What about your part in his success? Did you sell any of your early scribblings to playboy?

John Birmingham swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted September 29, 2017

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Therbs reckons...

Posted September 29, 2017
Before Playboy the only perv material I guess would have been pictures of half clad lasses in National Geographic. I wonder if that magazine's subscriptions declined when Hef launched his titty mag.

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Bernie mutters...

Posted September 30, 2017
Apparently, this is the stiffest he's been in the last decade....

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NBlob is gonna tell you...

Posted October 1, 2017
Perhaps indicative of the circles I frequent, but there was much gnashing of teeth over the Heff's passing, essentially laying the exploitation of "thin pretty women" and the subsequent creation of Rape Culture at his robe's hem.
I thought it a touch over the top.

John Birmingham reckons...

Posted October 2, 2017
Lucky you had this Safe Space to which you might retreat, then.

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girlclumsy ducks in to say...

Posted October 2, 2017

I don't like to claim "great minds" necessarily, but this is the "tribute" I wrote to Hugh on my FB page last Thursday:

ATTENTION: A "Tribute" to Hugh Hefner, Pre-eminent Pornographer (with apologies to WH Auden).

Stop all the cocks, cut off testosterone
Prevent the dog or you playing with a juicy bone
Silence the jacuzzis and with ruffled bum
Bring out the Bunnies, let the mourners come

Let centrefolds open moaning over head,
And dribble on their thigh the message He is Dead
Put silk robes round the fake racks that he so loves
Let the lonely Playmates wear white latex gloves

He was my North, my South, my East and West
My perky cheeks and my Sunday breast
My wang, my willy, my shaft, my schlong
We thought we liked him for the articles, we were wrong

His pipes are not wanted now, put out every one
Pack up the poon, watch the nipples grow dun
Pour away the lotion, and timber the wood
For the Mansion now has lost its Manhood.

John Birmingham asserts...

Posted October 3, 2017
There was an... inevitability about this. No?

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Rob reckons...

Posted October 16, 2017
I have to admire Hef, not for his treatment of doting, blonde females that rummaged around his palace or anything like that. But for the way he paid for Bettie Page's lawyer and agents to recover royalties owed to her after her mental health collapse in the 70s.

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