I am over trying to just trap pussycats or chase the bunnies like my mates and I did after graduating from the University decades ago, I just want to be invited to “the mansion” as a veteran disc jockey with all the music needed to make some serious chedda by rocking the House of Hefner!
Shoot I am now realizing, that was back in the late 1970s, when the Playboy Club was on 59th Street in Manhattan, near Central Park, or Lexington Avenues in the mid-fifties, and we had our post-fraternity meetings, pretend-to-catch- the-fox liasons there. Cliche` to-be-sure, how time flies! We got Playboy “keys”; I just came across mine the other day. It is not a real “key” but a plastic credit card lookalike. I was always disappointed by that – I wanted a real KEY to unlock a keyhole! Maybe with a bunny on it, but a metal KEY! I think Playboy dropped the ball on that promotion.
We would have meetings and many of us, in retrospect, did not know WHAT to do with these ultra-fine chicks with cotton tails, even though the conversational bravado said otherwise. LOL It was young man fun in the heart of the world! I still have my long, tall Playboy beer mug, even!
Once I went to one of the Playboy resorts located in “Great Gourge” ; A place in the hilly terrain of north New Jersey, where skiing was fashionable in the winter months. You could look out of the restaurant and see skiers coming down the lighted trail as you wined and dined your date! I thought myself a baad man like “Shaft” when I drove up there with my then, college girlfriend, having secured “comps” for most of the weekend because I was a DJ on the radio station and “reviewing” the place for an on-air. “Little” (not on my part) did I know, that I would not be able to get “it” in nor interview Carol Martin who was at the time a first-ever WCBS -TV New York City Black woman reporter who was coincidentally hanging-out there during the same weekend, playing tennis. I wanted to hit some balls with her, but was too loyal to my “date” – getting nothing.
Mr. Hefner, et al, if you want to rock a party with a mature gentleman, consider this my advert to you and my plea to be able to rock your big house succinctly and fulfill this past re-destiny.
If you or any of your associates are reading this, Mr Hefner, this music is my main style to get your rabbits a-rockin’ and not a-dyin’ breed.