SKIRMISHER

Hugh Hefner knows how much you’d kill to be in his pussy-humping shoes. He knows that so much that he doesn’t care his autobiography, released in September, is sold for $1300, which is like the value of a billion zillion actual Playboy magazines combined. Or three relatively cheap laptops. Or a surrogate grandmother who can occupy your porch and tell you stories while you stare at goats. But back to Hef’s autobio: it comes in six volumes, with 700 pages of “autobiographical text about Hef’s youth, army days, first attempts as a cartoonist, early career, girlfriends, and Playboy’s launch, illustrated by original Hefner artwork and cartoons, correspondence, and a huge selection of archival photos, many previously unpublished.” And who knows, maybe hidden in the folds of one of those 1500 limited edition copies is Hef’s advice on, uhh, true love!

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