|Vintage Pulp||Dec 23 2016|
Rampage is shocked—shocked, they tell us—to find that sexual shenanigans are going on in New York City massage parlors. They bravely delve into the matter, telling readers, “Authorities evidently realized that the parlors were nothing more than cathouses operating under the guise of massage parlors. Now, where there once were about 200 parlors, only about five are left.” You have to wonder‚ why were any left? Well, police need a little deep tissue action once in a while too. We're big fans of puns and we have to give Rampage credit for this one: “But according to the owners of the joint, business is throbbing.”
Resident seer Mark Travis graces this issue with another installment of “I Predict.” We love these—there's nothing like reading predictions when you already know whether they came true. Since these were all published today in 1973 it's safe to say we know the outcomes. Among Travis's gems: “I predict a series of savage sex slayings in an eastern city will be solved with the arrest and confession of the slayer—an 11 year-old boy!” Here's another good one: “I predict the birth of quintuplets to a famous—or infamous—porno star.”
Rampage also gives readers advice for making it with ski bunnies, offers an in depth examination of the lives of prostitutes, reports that a Nigerian farmer fed his child who had died of starvation to the rest of his family, and tells the story of a man who had an eye cut out over a one dollar debt. We have a dozen scans below and many more issues of Rampage in the website. All you have to do check our handy alphabetical tabloid index.
|Vintage Pulp||May 27 2016|
Bet it's been a long time since you heard the term “Hershey highway.” Well, Rampage, which bills itself as “America's top satire and humor weekly,” fixes that on this cover from today in 1973 with a story about the utility of anal sex for birth control. The cover features a curious photo of a girl with her tongue out. We showed it to the Pulp Intl. girlfriends and here's an actual reaction: “Sure. Laaaaaa—I want dick in my butt. Sorry. Not having anal sex with you.” It wasn't a hint—we just wanted a good quote. Mission fully accomplished.
Rampage's anal sex story is told in first person and goes into astonishing detail. Here's a snippet: “He holds on to the cheeks of my ass, keeping them spread wide while his manhood rams me like a goat. I reach back with one hand and alternately massage my clitoris and his balls.” You get the picture. The author basically makes this a primer on back door loving, from beginning to end, so to speak, stopping just short of discussing how to avoid santorum problems. In fact, the story is so positive about the practice maybe we'll ask the girls to read it and tell them it is a hint.
This is classic Rampage—sleaze dressed up as journalism, written from the point-of-view of a sexually precocious sixteen-year-old, but doubtless penned by a thirty-something aspiring Faulkner. Did any of these hacks go on to write novels? Who can say? It's always a fun game uncovering the respectable authors behind sex fiction, but in the case of tabloids the undoubtedly informal nature of commissioning the articles would make tracing their provenance an impossible task. The authors would have to admit it themselves. And why on earth would they do that? Eleven scans below.
|Vintage Pulp||Nov 20 2015|
Lots of skin this week. Don’t blame us. It’s all a matter of publishing randomness. You know we like to share items on the date they originally appeared, and it seems the stars have aligned for a naked mid-November. Above you have a Rampage published today in 1973, with rare photos of German actress Alice Arno and men’s mag fave Joyce Gibson. The monster referenced on the cover is Dean Corll, a serial killer who abducted, raped, tortured, and murdered at least 28 boys in and around Houston, Texas, from 1970 to 1973. He had been killed two months earlier by his accomplice Elmer Wayne Henley during a showdown over two potential victims, and terrifying details of the crimes had been laid bare for the American public, which was still trying to wrap its head around the concept of serial killers. We may get into the Corll murders a bit later. This is our eighth issue of Rampage, and you can see the others at our trusty tabloid index.
|Vintage Pulp||Oct 21 2015|
Rampage finally gets one right on the cover of this issue that appeared on newsstands today in 1973—John F. Kennedy’s brain really did go missing. It happened in 1966. Well, better to be right late than never. To this day there’s no official explanation for what happened to JFK’s brain, which had been stored at the National Archives in Washington, D.C. after his autopsy. The most credible theories center on family members ordering it taken to conceal evidence that Kennedy was sick or on medication. Amazingly, later presidential brain removals occurred while their hosts were still alive. No signs of cognition were present in these men, yet they walked, talked, and in zombielike trances signed laws written by corporations and billionaires.
Something else that’s missing is a chunk of this Rampage. Where did it go? We have no idea, but we roundly reject theories one person was the culprit—it was clearly a group that committed the deed. Though it’s a partial paper, we bought it anyway because it was only a dollar. And it was worth it. Inside, we learned that kissing won’t spread colds, but does shorten life spans; we were introduced to ambitious stripper Sandy O’Hara, who may be the first of her profession to debut in tabloids and later achieve her ambition of appearing in movies; and we learn Cher is on the verge of jettisoning Sonny. Scans below, and more from Rampage in our tabloid index.
|Vintage Pulp||Apr 27 2015|
|Vintage Pulp||Aug 30 2014|
|Vintage Pulp||Nov 21 2013|
Rampage returns to Pulp Intl. after a six month absence with this issue published today in 1973. The cover star and interior models are unknowns, and the stories are mostly fiction (a fiend stomps a girl’s guts out, a ghost rapes a girl in graveyard, a husband shoots out a rival’s eyes, a wife shoots her husband because he wanted a beer) but the editors do expend a bit of column space on two real people. The first is Richard Burton, who they call a hopeless drunk with violent tendencies—not a newsflash, since other tabloids had already covered his drinking issues to death. Of marginally more interest is a story on Peter Duel, a little-known figure today, but one who was a major star during the 1970s, half of the famed duo from the hit television show Alias Smith and Jones. Rampage claims Duel did not commit suicide in December 1971, but rather was murdered. The evidence? The testimony of a medium who communicated with Duel’s spirit and reported that the aggrieved entity said, “They… murdered….me! I… was… murdered..! Oh God..!” And of course, ghosts being famously elliptical, Duel transmitted all this across the ether without uttering the name of a single assailant.
The last item of note in Rampage is the group of predictions by Mark Travis. His predictions are usually so off as to be pure comedy, but eerily, he nails a few this time. For instance, he predicts the development of a cream that can allow a person to be whatever shade they wish. While many current day Americans have perhaps heard of these only in relation to porn stars whitening their anuses, skin whitening creams are in fact a multi-billion dollar industry in places like Japan, India, and China, where paleness is perceived as an indicator of wealth. The fact that people could so blatantly kowtow to racist paradigms is another issue entirely. We’ll get into that another time maybe. Travis also predicts that American highways will all become toll roads, and that’s of course a wet dream of today’s privatization sect, and one that’s coming closer to fruition every day. Okay, Travis missed a few too. Goat’s milk has not become a major part of the American diet yet. And as far as we know, Mexico has not yet offered instant citizenship to Americans who purchase property over the border. But here’s the thing about predictions—there’s no time limit. If they haven’t come true yet… just wait. We predict that we’ll have more issues of Rampage soon. Scans below.
|Vintage Pulp | Sex Files||May 6 2013|
Rampage is not the most visual of tabloids, but the stories are colorful enough to make up for it. Of those, there’s one clear winner in this issue published today in 1973. It deals with a live sex show in “the Casbah,” presumably Morocco, in which a girl teaches a monkey oral sex by shoving a banana inside her vagina. Once the chimp reaches third base, it’s only a matter of time before he slides into home. We’ll let Rampage scribe Casey Coozer (uh, right) describe the climax, so to speak, of the story: “Now came the best part of the show. As the audience watched these monkeyshines on stage, a troupe of Casbah whores took each man in the crowd and [snip] started blowing us right there. The ape is balling, the chicks are blowing, and at the end it seemed like everyone came at the same time. God, the fucking noise was unbelievable. [snip] The whore onstage is going absolutely bananas, the monkey is screaming like he just woke up with a leopard’s jaws around his head, and everybody, I mean everybody, is creaming!”
Nothing much we can say about that except we never saw anything of the sort during our trip to Morocco. Would we actually want to see chimp on human sex? Well no, but we still have to wonder if it might be preferable to having a knife-scarred maniac utter these words to us: “You talk big now, but next time I see you I’m going to kill you.” Monkeysex or murder threat? Hmm, tough call. Elsewhere in Rampage there’s an amusing story about sexual promiscuity in the Greek isles, more bestial action involving a woman and a cocker spaniel, and the tale of a woman held captive in a Haitian sex camp. A while back we posted an issue of Rampage from 1969 and said the paper promised but didn’t deliver. Amazing what four years and a loosening of American obscenity laws can do. This Rampage delivers all the madness and mayhem anyone could want. Of course, another change from 1969 is that the paper now bears a slogan: “America’s top satire and humor weekly.” In other words, the stories are made up. But what imaginations these guys had. Ten scans below.
|Vintage Pulp||Aug 3 2012|
|Vintage Pulp||Jun 29 2012|
This issue of Rampage published today in 1969 features an unidentified cover model claiming that men drool all over her body. Particularly the lower half, we suspect, since she’s wearing no pants. Inside, the mag’s intrepid journos go on an orgy hunt and—amazingly—find one; pseudonymous scribe Pitt Falls describes how insurance agents have a gay time balling housewives; and rape is conflated with sex. That’s nearly always the unfortunate case with these (male-written) vintage tabs. Those stories are pure farce, little slices of sleaze fiction, and we assume close to 100% of readers understood that, but then again, you never know.
Anyway, in this issue you also get the (not so) Great Criswell, who serves up yet another slate of incredibly off target predictions. Specifically, he tells readers that Armenia will be a superpower by the year 1980, that a new war will break out on the Korean peninsula, and that Esperanto will become the official language of international newspapers and magazines. Well, in the prediction business you have to swing for the fences, and really, you only have to connect about 25% of the time to maintain your status. So what was Criswell right about this time around? He said taxes would go up. Crack! That one’s waay out of here, folks!
The Great Criswell, who also called himself The Amazing Criswell, usually appeared in the pages of National Informer, a fact that tells us Rampage is a creation of the Informer Publishing Co. of Franklin Park, Illinois. But the problem with Rampage is it feels exactly as if National Informer or National Informer Weekly Reader were left out on the counter to grow stale, then warmed under a heat lamp and served on a paper plate. The fact that it’s tamer is a good thing, in real word terms. But in pulp world we’re looking for the uniquely outrageous. Rampage promises but doesn’t deliver. But we’ll reserve our final judgment until we have a look at the other issues we bought. Meantime, check out the scans below.