Devil worshippers give politicians another harsh lesson in Constitutional law.
The folks at the Satanic Temple have engineered a cage fight against the political establishment once again. We wrote about how they made a group of Oklahoma lawmakers look like idiots a couple of years ago. The politicians had decided to use a legal loophole to allow a Ten Commandments monument to be placed on state property, despite the fact that it violated the federal separation of church and state requirement. But the problem with loopholes is that anyone can use them if they have the time and money. Which is exactly what the Satanic Temple did when it designed a Satanist monument for the same plot of land. Needless to say, chagrined lawmakers were left with no choice but ignominious retreat and removed their religious monument.
The Satanic Temple has now taken aim at Christian prayer clubs in public schools. The organization contacted nine school districts across the country this week seeking to launch after school Satanist prayer programs. Their reasoning is the same as before—if Christian clubs are okay on state property, then by extension Satanist clubs must be fine. After all, trenchcoated loners need a place to congregate too. With the Constitution's supremacy clause giving it legal authority over states in the matter, lawmakers have to either allow all religions, including Satanists, equal access to schools after hours, or admit that they are enforcing an unconstitutional preference for Christianity.
We get that it's disconcerting to imagine Luciferian chanting in public schools at night—we've seen our share of horror movies, after all—but even so, these politicians never learn. A charitable interpretation of their folly might be that they're so blinded by belief they've forgotten their religion is just one of many in the country, and one of thousands that have existed across time, but the truth is they're worse than blind—they're deluded. Rather than accept the undeniable fact that the country's founding fathers wanted state and religion kept separate, they've convinced themselves that Jefferson, Madison, et al simply forgot to write special standing for the Christian church into the Constitution. This despite the fact that they amended the document more than ten times, and the very first of those amendments explicitly denied Christianity and all other religions special rights.
When asked for comment, Satanic Church leader Lucien Greaves took time from etching pentagrams and deflowering virgins long enough to suggest that children being threatened with eternal hellfire need the healthy alternative belief system Satanism provides. He's being disingenuous, of course—the Satanists are really just atheists with a finely honed sense of humor. The confrontation promises to be political theater of a uniquely American sort, but it will inevitably end in judicial defeat for Christian clubs. At least until they manage to write Christianity into the U.S. Constitution—not so farfetched, considering there are politicians like Arizona's Sylvia Allen publicly pondering whether her state can force citizens to attend church. Maybe the founding fathers should have taken a tip from Satan and written the Constitution in blood. That way breaking the deal would cost politicians their souls.
I want the pot of pig's blood dumped, Brother Fabrizio's bones back in the crypt, and my letter opener back on my desk. Now, young lady.
Occasionally we document the pulpification of classic literature, and today we have another example. Above you see The Monk by Matthew Gregory Lewis, which was originally published in 1796 but was updated pulp style by Bestseller Library for this 1960 version. The difference with this re-issue—as opposed to sexed up novels like George Orwell's 1984 and Matteo Bandello's Dammi la tua ecco la mia—is that The Monk really is like a pulp novel. You get lust, violence, cross-dressing, incest, magic, and an appearance by Satan himself, and not just any average Satan, but one with serpents for hair, razor sharp talons, and a burning pen in one hand—useful for writing up contracts for gullible mortals' souls. And that's pretty much what the plot deals with—a pious monk who is targeted and tempted by Satan. You think the Dark One takes no for an answer? Forget it. He's got slippery ways and plenty of alluring minions. The cover art here is by someone who signed as Blofeld. Never heard of him before, and we doubt we will again.
Similar to the Tennessee Waltz but with less clothing.
We showed you Wisconsin born model and Playboy playmate Marilyn Waltz not long ago on one of the Technicolor lithographs we've been featuring the last couple of years, but some celebs deserve return engagements, so here she is again, pre-Playboy and pre-blonde, looking very girl-next-door. Waltz was one of Playboy's most popular playmates of the 1950s, appearing in the centerfold three times, twice under the name Waltz, and once as Margaret Scott. We're guessing this photo was made around 1953.
Russ Meyer's tale of killer cats from Southern California is absurd but entertaining.
Though the text is in English, this promo for Russ Meyer's Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill! was made for a 1994 re-release in Japan. You can see that the flipside at right is partially in Japanese. Faster Pussycat is one of those movies—everyone has heard of it, but fewer than you'd suspect have actually seen it.
So what's the deal? Tura Satana, Haji, and Lori Williams drag race, wisecrack, and roughhouse their way around Southern California. But because they're bad tempered and sociopathic, they eventually kill a guy, which then requires abducting the only witness, and in turn leads to a scheme to cheat a wheelchair bound old man out of his disablement stash. It's an uneasy alliance between these three kittens, destined for implosion, an inevitability helped along by Satana's unending torrents of shouty abuse.
You really have to hand it to Meyer—what he did, he did really well. Faster Pussycat is a completely overdone tale of reckless youth and the lawless west, but ripping around the Mojave Desert with these girls is consistently fun. The type of moral decay and geographical desolation showcased here is one American film's time-honored motifs. Meyer's entry in the genre holds up pretty well. The movie originally premiered today in 1965.
Someone in the sleeping compartment isn't going to wake up.
Film noir teaches us that anyone can get in too deep, even a railroad engineer. In Human Desire, Fritz Lang's retelling of Emile Zola's 1890 novel La Bête humaine, Glenn Ford finds himself trapped between lust for Gloria Grahame and reluctance to kill to have her. He's already helped her cover up another killing and gotten in the middle of blackmail plot, but every man has his limits. This is flawed but canonical noir, with a cocky Ford, a quirky Grahame, a brutish Broderick Crawford, and Kathleen Case playing the loyal gal pal, who for our money is much more alluring than Grahame. Ford figures that out too, eventually. Too bad his realization is sandwiched between two murders on his train. Human Desire premiered today in 1954.
La Bête humaine
, Human Desire
, Fritz Lang
, Emile Zola
, Glenn Ford
, Gloria Grahame
, Kathleen Case
, Broderick Crawford
, poster art
, film noir
, movie review
I'll get mine, yours, and everyone else's I can lay my little hands on too.
Set initially at San Quentin Prison, then in the wider environs of Oakland, California, I'll Get Mine follows a do-gooder prison shrink down the rabbit hole of Latino gang culture, where he becomes involved in a murder mystery and takes on the role of potential savior to a beautiful druggie ensnared in Pachuco culture. It was originally published in 1951 as Cure It with Honey, which you see at right.
Thurston Scott was a pseudonym for the team of Jody Scott and George Thurston Leite, and what they put together was racy stuff for the time, with hetero sex achieved, gay sex alluded to, various flavors of drugs inhaled and injected, and some violence. The mix of elements worked well—the novel was nominated for an Edgar Award. The 1952 Popular Library edition at top was illustrated by A. Leslie Ross, and its resemblance to a cover we shared last month puts us in mind of assembling a collection of women leaning against lamp posts and street signs. Stay tuned.
Oh my God—she's pretending I'm Brad Pitt right now.
We thought we'd make up for the blah poster below by offering an un-blah counterpoint. This lovely effort is for the roman porno flick Semi-dokyumento: Ocaruto sex, and it starred Yuki Minami in a tale written and directed by sexploitation vet Shinya Yamamoto. Ocaruto means “occult” in Japanese, so the movie, called simply Occult Sex for its Western release, is a genre mash-up that mixes the usual sin and skin with horror movie elements of ESP and psychokinesis. But would you really want to be able to read someone's thoughts during sex? We wouldn't. And we wouldn't want to be the recipients either. The Pulp Intl. girlfriends already think we spend way too much mental energy on baseball. If they only knew. Semi-dokyumento: Ocaruto sex premiered in Japan today in 1974.
Hong Kong kidnappers have problems mastering possession, and so do the filmmakers.
If Tarantino likes it, it must be tops. At least that's the assumption some would make upon learning that 1976's Ebony, Ivory & Jade has Tarantino's stamp of approval. Well, despite the endorsement and status as a minor classic of the blaxploitation genre, the film isn't great. It has some highlights, including confidently staged action sequences and camerawork that does seem to have influenced Tarantino. But its failings are legion—bad script, wooden acting, and heavy duty crushed black levels that make the actors almost impossible to see in the night sequences. We'll give a pass on that last problem, because it could have happened during the video or DVD transfer.
We'll admit though, this flick is damned funny in parts—unintentionally so, foremost the character Stacy's beatdown of a bad guy who morphs into a dummy at the moment she hoists him overhead and helicopter spins him through a room divider. The basic idea of the film is also appealing—Hong Kong bad guys kidnap five female track stars for ransom, unaware that two of them happen to be martial arts experts that will cause no end of trouble once they untie themselves. Playboy playmate Rosanne Katon in the lead role is also a plus. But as blaxploitation, even a discernibly elevated budget doesn't lift the film above other entries in the genre.
As a side note, the above promo poster should help put to rest any idea that apostrophe illiteracy has something to do with modern education or the internet or whatever. It has always been a problem, and we see it all the time in old American tabloids. This particular failure to master the possessive form is pretty egregious, though. Yes, it's attached to a movie shot in the Philippines, but the error made it all the way through a phalanx of American writers, designers, pre-press workers, printers, and producers working in the U.S. of A. at—or at least for—Lawrence Woolner's Dimension Pictures. Pretty bad. Though as we've noted in the past, sometimes apostrophe placement can be legitimately tricky.
, Dimension Pictures
, Lawrence Woolner
, Ebony Ivory & Jade
, Rosanne Katon
, Colleen Camp
, Sylvia Anderson
, Quentin Tarantino
, poster art
, movie review
Well, at least I got you to take off your hat. Now let's do something about that red suit.
The uncredited cover artist for this issue of Australia's Man Junior magazine published in August of 1957 probably never noticed he made his cover subject look like she was dressed as Santa Claus. You see that, right? With the white hair and red towel behind her? Totally looks like Santa's hat. In our dirty imaginations, we see her as Mrs. Claus, and she's forced Santa to finally wind down in Jamaica or Seychelles after years without a vacation. She's gotten his hat off, and once he gets a few mai tais in him he'll strip off the red suit and start cavorting around in a Speedo. End up all sweaty and sunburned on YouTube captioned, “Fat guy totally goes off on beach.” And on the video there's Santa screaming about how the north pole is in his swim trunks. Yes, we got all that from a simple cover illustration. Trust us, you wouldn't want to be stuck inside our heads. Anyway, we have nineteen panels from this magazine below, and about forty more Aussie men's magazines, mostly Adam, that we'll start scanning and uploading as soon as we can pull ourselves away from all the summer activities around our town. So probably not until autumn. In the meantime, see more from Man Junior here, here, and here.
The headlines that mattered yesteryear.
1963—King Gives Famous Speech
In the U.S., Martin Luther King, Jr., at the culmination of his march on Washington for jobs and freedom, gives his famous "I Have a Dream Speech," advocating racial harmony and equality.
1981—Scientists Announce Existence of New Disease
The National Centers for Disease Control announce a high incidence of pneumocystis and Kaposi's sarcoma in gay men. These illnesses are later recognized as symptoms of a blood-borne immune disorder, which they name AIDS. The disease is initially thought to have developed in the late 1970s among gay populations, but scientists now know it developed in the late 1800s or early 1900s in Africa during the height of European conquest of the continent.
1975—Haile Selassie I Dies
Haile Selassie I, former Emperor of the Kingdom of Ethiopia, dies of respiratory failure. Selassie was most famous for his landmark speech before the League of Nations in 1936, in which he pleaded for help against an Italian invasion, but to no avail. He warned that fascist aggression would not end with Ethiopia. His words, "It is us today; it will be you tomorrow," turn out to be prophetic when Germany's fascists later spark World War II.
1939—First Baseball Telecast
The first televised baseball game, a doubleheader between the Cincinnati Reds and the Brooklyn Dodgers, takes place at New York City's Ebbets Field.
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