|Aye, aye captain -- or ai yi yi?|
The only hitch? Hefner himself gets to stay there until he dies. Being an avid TV-watcher, he probably saw those reverse mortgage commercials on cable and thought, Hey, that's for me! Only this way he doesn't have to deal with a bank.
|Doesn't this make you nostalgic?|
Or do you get to live there while Hefner has a wing to himself? Frankly, the idea of accidentally running into a pajama-clad, slipper-shuffling geriatric wearing a captain's hat and sporting a chemically-induced erection in the middle of the day has no appeal to me whatsoever.
|Hefner, Bill Cosby, Shel Silverstein and|
Norm Crosby -- now that's a party!
I suppose one possible home-buyer would be some wealthy young hedge-funder whose yearns for the Rat Pack days when life wasn't so darn serious. When booze ran freely, cigarettes were proudly puffed, and women were just really, really comfortable pieces of furniture.
Yet, I come not to condemn Hugh Hefner. He financed the restoration of the Sherlock Holmes movies starring Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce. That alone gives him a gold star in my book.
But there is something to be said about aging gracefully -- not to mention spending some of your own cash on upkeep rather than leaving it to the buyer. I've watched enough of those home shows on HGTV to know that the only thing more important than curb appeal is that the place is as move-in ready as possible. I'd take the screening room with the pipe organ, but the dog-poop carpets and the walking cadaver in the purple robe have to go.