Hugh Hefner’s Gone-It’s The End Of All Secrets

Hugh Hefner died today and now I’ll never get to ask him if he remembers talking to a 14-year-old boy at the Playboy Club in Century City.

We won’t reminisce about the moment or talk about the time I ran into George Steinbrenner at JFK or the moment I asked Leah Remini who she was and what she did for a living.

Nor will I take this moment to try and share what I saw and experienced at the club that night…34 years ago.

Today is not the time nor place.

Driving The Demons Away

The demons are cunning and clever and do a fine job of hiding just below the surface and it is only upon the rare occasion that you can find them walking in the open.

I am not a trained hunter but have some natural skill at detecting them and whenever I catch their scent I drop what I am doing to track them.

Because I know that if I can find their lair I have a good chance of destroying it and if I can’t, well I will do battle with them for as long as I can.

I’ll make like Jacob wrestling the angel and pray they are dumb enough to let me wrap my hands around them because the one thing I am skilled at is demolition.

Grace and I are at odds and you’ll never mistake me for dancing like Baryshnikov, but demolition and destruction are old friends.


When the yellow-eyed beasts raised their heads tonight they took hold of their prey and whispered vile things and did their best to use guilt do control and destroy.

Guilt is another thing I am well acquainted with but unlike others I can ignore its siren song.  It is not something that will take hold of me except in rare circumstances.

I have done battle with guilt before and seen it try to destroy what some call unconventional or even socially unacceptable.

It lost that battle with me because my gut and my heart were are always convinced of the righteousness of it.

Some called it bad circumstances or poor timing but I said bullshit and refused to capitulate.


When the  demon roared I didn’t flinch or shudder. I looked it in the eye and silently sent a quote its way.

“And Max, the king of all wild things, was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.”
― Maurice Sendak, Where the Wild Things Are

The demons didn’t respond and I cannot say whether it was because they were cowed by my confidence of if they thought it misplaced and laughed at it.

I followed up with more comments and shared the picture above.
“Remember this day, we can and will do it again.”

There was more silence and I said I would make it happen again. I would pitch the company that paid for it and suggest there is another good post to be written about it.

We did battle again those demons and I. For a long while I kept them from going but eventually they slipped my grasp and ran off faster than I could follow.

Four hours later I am battered and bruised, but not beaten.

I am just getting started.

Sometimes You Move On, Sometimes You Stay

I need to go to bed and try to catch some shut eye because I haven’t gotten much but I am fired up and wired.

My senses are on high alert and I hear bells going off.

There is a part of me that wants to do battle and another that wants to run with the moon.

And then there is the other part, the one that is listening to Bill Withers and not just thinking but absorbing the lyrics.

I still feel that knife in my back and know I can’t pull it out on my own.

It is a parting gift from the demons and eventually I’ll give it back to them, but not today

So I leave here whistling All I Ask Of You and figure that if I focus my attention in a different direction altogether I might come up with a solution.

Or maybe not.

Every dawn is a new day and one step closer to where I plan on going.

Guess time will tell if I am on the right path or not.

Sorry to see you go Hugh, it would have been nice to share the end of all secrets.

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