John Robinson

No, not those kind. The good kind, from the late fifties and early sixties.

I remember True magazine; my dad subscibed to both it and Argosy. Both were interchangeable, full of “I had to gnaw off my own foot to escape the Hottentots”-type stories, and both were great fodder for twelve-year-old boys.

My mom didn’t quite approve me reading them, but there were no girlie pics, which left her position a little untenable. (more…)