Hugh Hefner: I'm Glad He's Dead

Is that a mean headline? Deal with it. Those were the words coursing through my mind when I learned the Crown Prince peddler of smut had passed away.  Well, more specifically, I thought of that one scene in the 1989 version of Batman. Jack Nicholson as the maniacal Joker has a board-room sit-down with the other Gotham crime bosses. The well-dressed boss at the other end of the table mocks him with “What’s with that stupid grin?” After he rejects the Joker’s schemes for a citywide takeover, the Joker grabs his hands with a nuclear buzzer and roasts the guy. After clearing the board room, the Joker mocks his charred criminal competitor with: “I’m glad you’re dead!”

Yep. That’s exactly how I felt when I read about Hugh Hefner huffing away to the Afterlife—wherever he plans on going, who knows? The liberal, enabling mainstream media has been more charitable, of course. “Surrounded by his family” stood out in all the obituaries in most of the obituaries, with some of the making the front-page headlines. What a cruel irony! This man’s perverse industry helped destroy plenty of families, in my cases by warping the hearts and mind of boys, who became troubled men and bad husbands. The moral vacuum that was Hugh Hefner could not have been sucked away sooner.

No apologies, folks. Just his once, I am not going to give a decent eulogy for a dead man. Just because a corporate executive pushes a product which pulls in a profit does not make him a good man. Seriously, I am so glad that he’s gone. Frankly, I am surprised that he lived to the ripe old age of 91 years old. Of course, I wonder how much color or character those 91 years really had. Being a sex fiend isn’t really all that it’s cracked up to be. Jack Nicholson was the Wolf of Mulholland Drive, and now no woman will touch him to scratch him. There’s something about man’s deeper need for love that a lot of one-night stands cannot replace. In Hefner’s case, I guess having your pick of six or seven girlfriends a night won’t hurt you as long as you have the enormous wealth to buy as many doctors and health care options as the next guy.

Honestly, the significance of this dirty old man’s sudden demise is very gratifying. But for now, let me play Devil’s Advocate (boy, how a propos those words are right now). The liberal media establishment is hell-bent on paining this perv in the best light. They point to a few reasons why, but I shall happily debunk every one of them:

1.       “He was a firm, convicted free speech advocate.” Yes, sure, he conducted—or at least—printed insightful interviews with people like Ayn Rand, Jimmy Carter (and his adulterous thoughts), Shel Silverstein (Where the Sidewalk Ends, Light in the Attic, Egbert etc.—how this guy became a children’s poet is beyond me). Seriously, folks, do you think that men with their heads bowed down at the cash register were purchasing Playboy for the philosophical insights? Freedom to ready whatever has given us the damaging effects of easy pornography. Now we face a nation where even in America’s churches, 40% of men struggle with pornography. So do women, by the way. Would someone please tell me how this is liberating, or how this is a win for liberty?

2.       “He was a leading force in the sexual liberation movement.” This is quite the whopper. Sexual “liberty” is in reality license, and it’s hardly liberation. Sexual anarchy is a better moniker for the destructive behaviors and unjust nonchalance of casual sex and its consequences. Ask “HIV Charlie” Sheen and the millions of others affected with crippling venereal disease—now at an all-time high in California, the sexual liberty capital of the world. Or Bill Cosby, now on trial for multiple counts of sexual assault, as his body, mind, and reputation disintegrate before all of us.

3.       “He advanced the cause of women’s liberation.” Uh … hell no. Women induced to objectify themselves in order to make a little money—that does not elevate the status, power, or worth of women. Gloria Steinem jumped into the Playboy Bunny scene, only to recount afterwards how demeaning the whole Playboy Mansion thing turned out to be. Deborah Harry got famous as a good singer, not because she stripped down for a pin-up. Marge Simpson actually “posed” for a pin-up, too. Is this not insane and sad?

But there is a silver lining to this dark cloud of anti-American debauchery. In fact, I submit it’s a billowy white cloud of glory. The Sexual Revolution was never one to begin with, and more people are figuring that out. Every day, I meet young Millennials, or better yet their post Millennial counterparts, and they reject the destruction of family and marriage. Why? In many cases because they are seeing the destructive results of this coarse, selfish behavior from adults, and how all of this mess hurts children, including themselves.

The “Hippie” Counter Culture which made Playboy something celebrated if permissible is now as stodgy, boring, and un-hip as Mitch McConnell in a bikini. Pro-life and pro-family values are the new cool, the new counter-culture, and Hefner’s death is the further signal that the destructive, anti-religious, anti-Christian ethos of Hugh and the Bunnies has gone stale, like those dirty Redd Foxx records. We realize today that any smut peddler tapping into the baser nature of men is not a visionary. He’s just a greedy schmuck looking to make a buck. This is nothing new. What was more striking about his later years, though, was that his hallmark sham magazine dispensed with naked women in the centerfold. I guess a sense of shame finally kicked in.

Once again, I’m so glad that Hef is dead—and to our credit, his legacy will die away just as fast, unlike the proverbial bunnies which breed like, well, you know!