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No teaching new tricks to an old dog like Hef

The only way I can look at 84-year-old Hugh Hefner’s recent engagement to 24-year-old Crystal Harris is as a dad.

I’m sorry. The only way I can look at 84-year-old Hugh Hefner’s recent engagement to 24-year-old Crystal Harris is as a dad.


If I was Crystal’s dad and she came home with an 84-year-old beau, I’d have the old geezer arrested for child abuse. Or at least blond abuse.


What is she thinking? The Playboy of the Western World is way past his best before date. Never mind what he’s thinking. In fact, I don’t want to know what he’s thinking.


She’s probably thinking: “This won’t take long.”


Even if it lasts a week and he expires with a smile on his face, is there any dad alive who wants his pride and joy to marry the world’s oldest boy?


But the one who is really upset is Holly Madison, the former Hooters girl and Hef’s ex-No. 1. He broke up with her because he didn’t want to get married. As if?! Now he’s marrying this Crystal. Stay tuned for Holly’s tell-all, coming up on her reality show, Holly’s World, Jan. 29.
I’m not making this up.


Hefner has been exploiting women for more than 60 years, and I guess it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks. Obviously, he is determined to die with his boots on. Or, you could argue, it’s a clever strategy. Back in the day, Hef kept a harem of seven or eight Playboy bunnies at the mansion. Now he’s pledging to be faithful to Crystal alone, which is probably a great relief when you’re 84, even with Viagra.


Of course, the perpetual party is mainly a myth. Hefner stays home and watches movies or plays cards with his aged cronies. He likes old movies. Crystal’s favourite movie is The Little Mermaid. She was three when it was released, and it has stayed with her ever since.


I guess you could see the Playboy Mansion as a sheltered workshop for silicone-stuffed airheads who couldn’t keep your order straight at McDonald’s. Who else would think it’s a good idea to marry an octogenarian who listens to Bix Beiderbecke on his Victrola?


But silicone-stuffed airheads are people, too, and deserve to be protected from the depredations of rabid zombies. I have half a mind to get out the pitchforks and the torches, storm the mansion and rescue Crystal from the clutches of Hef the Impaler. (That’s if his Viagra prescription has been renewed).


Then I’ll send her home to bed without her supper. Or Hef, for that matter.

 
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