Watch Out! Bad Girls in Bikinis!

I admit that I've watched THE GIRLS NEXT DOOR. I admit that I am a fan of the show. But what part of my brain is in operation? I don't know. I don't care.

It's billed as a reality show, but it is most assuredly NOT reality. This is one of the things I like the best. I like how FAR AWAY it is from reality. How many octogenarians have three lovers who are more than forty years younger? In a Holmby Hills mansion? With a zoo? I know their breasts are fake, and their hair color doesn't exist in nature, but I like these women.

Or rather I like their personas. The two after all may be different. I am sure they are given a script of some kind. But even so, they are remarkably free of that most hated of all female stereotypes: the catfight! They run around the mansion in their hootchie-mama costumes, tits falling out of their tops, and genuinely seem to like if not respect each other. I love this. They are sisters. Comrades, friends. It's not about competing with each other--- at least on camera.

Kendra, Bridget and Holly really do not seem jealous of their male peacock, the legendary Hugh Hefner. It redefines relationships. It's a version of polyamory. I know, I know, how much amour can you expect from an 80+ penis? And aren't they (the girls next door) to a certain extent fucking the icon, the symbol, and not the man? Certainly this is true. Joe Blow in Idaho, Stan the Man in the Yucatan, or Vinnie from Staten Island couldn't command such an audience. I will say this: when I've watched them kiss aforementioned peacock, it was a peck, not a poke. Not a lover's kiss but a kiss of obeisance. There is a difference.

It is slightly disturbing to see the new girls arriving. The twins. Watch out, bad girls in bikinis! I've seen pictures of them with Hugh Hefner. BUT then I saw the trailer. I heard them talk. Wow. Are they nineteen, twenty? They sounded like little girls. All giggly and squiggly with HH in the middle, a leer fixed firmly on his face. And I thought, come on. What must it be like in the bedroom? And then I thought, no, I don't really want to know. It can't be pleasant. For the twins. I don't care what their press reps might say.

The First Ladies of the Girls Next Door are women. Kendra, as the youngest, was pushing it for me. Almost too gross to watch as she would lean over to kiss him. But the twins are girls. I don't think I'll be watching anymore. It was never sexy, that isn't the point, but at least it was never regressive or infantile. That's where our crown prince of pin-up is heading. Awww. It's sad to watch an icon crumble. I'd been a fan of Hugh Hefner. He was one of the catalysts of the sexual revolution, and thank god for that revolution. I think Gloria Steinem could kick his ass but you got to give the man credit. How many happy (as in ending) masturbation stories are out there, male and female, thanks to him? Gazillions.