If we wait long enough the saying will be proved true that:
"What goes around will come around."
No more so than in the case of Hugh Hefner the original play boy.
Hefner was the "cause celebre" of the libertine life-style for four decades. Regular were the shots of Hugh and his harem of 'play-bunnies', an ever changing cast of leggy, bosomy, dreamy, giggly, fake looking blondes that wriggled and gushed in the spot light with their famous sugar-daddy.
But now the spot light has been turned else where, as it always does in Tinsel Town, searching out a new generation of younger wanna-be's leaving the wrinkles to do their own work on 'yesterday's poster children.' Hugh has been left in the dark.
For sale is Hefner's PlayBoy Palace. Price: a cool $ 200,000,000.
However, before you rush off with cheque book in hand, there is a condition. Whoever buys the house has to agree to have Hugh as part of the furnishings.
Hefner these days is no more than an orphan, a rich one, but still an orphan, lonely and displaced, a tottering effigy seeking a comfortable corner in which to end his debauched, wretched life.
Jesus once said of the rich and famous that they already have their reward IN THIS LIFE but for those who serve God, their reward is waiting in the world to come.
Think about that. And think about the house that really matters, The
Father's House in which there are MANY MANSIONS.
My place is already booked. How about yours?
Jubilate.
Ian
By the estimation of those who really know about such things, David Bowie was listed as the last of the Big Three. The other two being Elvis Presley and Michael Jackson. If this estimation be true then Bowie has joined them in their common bond of mortality, for yesterday he died.
Although I came from Bowie's native land of England and was his contemporary in years, I cannot recall the words of a single song that he sung or penned. But by the accounts of his eulogists he helped change the world.
In his lyrics there was something for everyone: something for the lonely, the brokenhearted, the romantics, the homo-sexuals, the trans-vestites, the vegetarians, the vegans, the rock-a-billies, the classicists, the rebels, the space-travellers, the dreamers, the losers and the winners. His menu included every shade of opinion apart from hope in God and direction on how to get to heaven.
"Heaven's in Here." was about as close as he ever came to giving verse and thought to the great matter of life after death and, if we were to accept his song as a road map, we would be all in deepest trouble.
But now he has gone. The pink hair, the glitter paint, the false eyelashes, the lip stick, the spandex suits;it has all come down to a rouged up corpse in a morgue.
While he was singing his songs of futility and rebellion in England, I, and hundreds like me, were preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ on the streets and beaches and parks in the same towns where his concerts were being held.
WE ARE STILL DOING IT.
The difference in our message was not one of longevity of life here on earth but longevity of life in the next world be that Heaven or be that Hell. The answer to that question lies in the non-too distant future for us all.
Jubilate.
Ian
