Bourjaily: Weasels Ripped My Flesh
I am just young enough that the phrase “Weasels Ripped My Flesh” recalls a Frank Zappa and the Mothers of...
I am just young enough that the phrase “Weasels Ripped My Flesh” recalls a Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention album, not Man’s Life magazine, which kicks off the lurid gallery seen here:
I do remember seeing men’s adventure magazines on newsstands as a kid ( the cover line that sticks in my mind is “I Killed 200 Japs!”) but, given the R-rated subject matter, I never dared open them. Years later when I did, I was disappointed by the cheap paper and grainy photos inside. The covers, however, were wonderful and they still are now. In fact, the Adventure magazine covers — especially the tiger at the water hole — should have been Field & Stream covers. The rest, maybe not. If it was me living in a parallel pulp world where flesh-ripping weasels were merely a warm up for giant otters, cannibal crabs and mad monkeys* I would probably wear a shirt and I guarantee I would go strapped 24/7. Even a muzzleloader would shoot fast enough to keep a horde of giant turtles at bay. Flocks of flesh-ripping (again) flying rodents would require something in a semiauto shotgun with an extended magazine, although the precise choke and load for vicious flying squirrels is a puzzler.
*notice the guy biting a mad monkey’s head off.