Real Men

I devoured magazines as a kid, this being the pre cable/satellite era, we had a selection of three channels showing essentially the same crap. Grocery stores always had the widest selection of magazines to escape the dreary routine of small town life. Whenever we went to acquire sundries I made a beeline to the magazine rack, especially looking forward to the first or middle of the month when the new issues were available. I went from comics, to martial arts to rock n roll mags, then graduating to the more brazen such as true detective, soldier of fortune, even popular mechanics. My grandparents always had a National Geographic and a Time magazine, I liked the Geographic better, it never failing to place you right smack dab in the middle of whatever exotic destination they happen to be describing.

However I missed the first generation of the men’s pulp magazines, before we crash landed in a world of airbrushed plastic, and tasteless consumerism. The pseudo homo erotic adventure stories, absurdly vivid tales of bosomy jungle women, excellent art work, these magazines would now be castigated for the politically incorrect portrayal of the post WW2 American male.

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