Pulp Magazine Covers

     If there is to be an epitaph on my gravestone, let it read: "Planets & Women Were His Pawns".

     I can't stop staring at her hat.  Did she strap it down over her chin out of fear that it might try to fly away?

     I've never seen someone look so disappointed with the results of a disintegration ray. "Oh, fuck, it just disintegrates pants. I--look, yeah, um, I was actually trying to reduce you to a pile of demolecularized ash. Not flirt with you. Uh, yeah, I'm seeing someone right now. Look--could you maybe find another pair of pants? Please?"

     Immediately, you realize that we've interrupted something. Something wonderful. Something terrible. Something sacred. A powerful bond that can only exist between three men... and their turkey. 

     Whatever's going on here, I'm pretty sure these three want to make sure it doesn't see the light of day. 

     After several experiments, extensive research, and two peer reviewed studies, I have determined that there is no feasible way to make a picture containing three men and a turkey look *any* creepier.