The Man, The Legend?
"Hefner is a skilled raconteur... his tales recall those of the great Henry Rollins."
- DCist.com
"Incredibly brave... Hefner
understands the power of a story."
- DC Theatre Scene
There have been three questions
that I have been asked more than
any other questions in my life:
1.) Are you actually related to Hugh Hefner?
2.) Do you get a free subscription?
3.) Have you ever been to the Playboy Mansion?
And the answers to these two questions are, respectively, "Yes, he's my cousin," "No, of course not," and, "Well... yes, actually." Oh yeah, I've been there. When I was seven..."
The HEF Primer
Name: John Hefner
Birthdate: 3/3/83
Birthplace: Washington, DC
Height: Taller than Arnold Schwarzenegger, shorter than
Richard "man-god" Moll.
Weight: 180 lbs.
Bust: I have one of Shakespeare
(but don't lift up his head and push
the red button, that's a secret).
Waist: A mind is a terrible thing to...? Hey, they can't all be winners.
Ambitions: I'll never be a mainstream hit, but I bet I can earn cult status. Therefore, I dream of becoming a cult of personality figure like Tarantino, Whedon, Ellis, Colbert, and Palahniuk. I want fans who scare the ever-loving crap outta me.
Turn-Ons: Ernest Borgnine, Bea Arthur
Turn-Offs: bleached bottle-blond bimbos with bogus boobs… banana.
Virtues: I can mix a mean Manhattan.
Vices: I can mix many a mean Manhattan.
Guilty Pleasures: Meat Loaf (the singer and the food)
Favorite People:
Fictional: Harvey Dent, Hal Jordan, Prince Myshkin, William Cutting, Cyrano de Bergerac, Dr. Victor Von Doom, Dr. Otto Octavius, Bub the Zombie.
Real People: John Leguizamo, Werner Herzog, Danny Elfman, the Rat Pack (even Peter!), Jules Feiffer, “Beat” Takeshi Kitano
Hefner's Night Out: Hey baby, what say you and me grab some dinner, drink some wine, and go hit up the David Cronenberg film festival?
Five CDs I Can't Live Without: The Oingo Boingo Anthology, “Murder Ballads” by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, The Fountain soundtrack by Clint Mansell, “Security” by Peter Gabriel, and the White Album.
Why I Could Never Be President: I would insist on dressing up as Bill the Butcher to all major events. And if things got really bad, I would don a suit of armor specially forged by Tibetan monks, then randomly curse Reed Richards for all my country’s woes.
My Philosophy: I'm a hopeful pessimist (The glass is half empty... but someday, it WILL be full!).