 It's about time you got here Clarence Joe—I'm like to die of desperation. 
We can't tell you for sure, since Jack Houston's 1952 novel Waiting for Willy dates from well before were born, but we suspect “willy” was a slang term for penis even back then. We think so only because we keep finding what we thought were contemporary slang terms in these old books. We wish we'd thought before now to make a list. You'd be surprised. Apart from some hip-hop expressions—and even including many of those—the slang already existed and was used in the same context. Of course, authors often borrowed terminology from early- and mid-century African American vernacular, which makes the whole process circular, sort of. We'll wait for a comprehensive study on the subject from you linguists out there, and as the cover shows, anticipation is the best part. The art on this is by George Erickson, who you can see more of by clicking his keywords below.
 That bucket of water weighs thirty pounds but she handles it like a basket of muffins. Marry that girl, son. Household drudgery will be a breeze for her. 
Ernest Haycox was a leading western and historical author. Above you see a cover for his 1954's short story collection Pioneer Loves. He died in 1950, with this appearing posthumously. We don't read many westerns, but by most accounts he was top level. We're featuring it today because the cover art by George Erickson fits a collection we put together last year. The group depicts rural women working hard while their men mostly stand by doing nothing. The Pulp Intl. girlfriends' reaction: “Typical!” Typical, eh? Who makes the seared duck with Pedro Ximénez sauce and mashed parsnips? That would be us. Who dispenses back rubs upon (daily) demand? Us again. Who handles panicked calls for humane evictions of spiders? That's right—us. Never let them diminish your worth, guys.
 That was amazing when you started moaning, “Jack, Jack,” right at the end. My name's Robert, by the way. 
Above, a George Erickson cover for The Strangers, by William E. Wilson, copyright 1955. The book concerns a man, his dissatisfied wife, and the love triangle that results, which sounds like solid sleaze, but this is actually literary fiction from a serious author. Wilson became known as an anti-racism voice during his day. His first novel, Crescent City, is focused on the Ku Klux Klan, and one of his noted works is the autobiographical essay, “Long, Hot Summer in Indiana,” set during 1924, when the Klan was ascendant. The Stranger wasn't rapturously received, but we think Wilson is a good writer, so we may check out Crescent City. If we do, we'll report back.
 Whew! What a swim. I love this isolated old cottage. No stress, no phone, all the problems of the world just gone... 
The Crooked Man, written by Shelley Smith for Doubleday & Co.'s Perma Star subsidiary, is the story of a man who survives by cheating people out of their money. Technically he'd be considered a serial killer, but only goes that far if there's no other way. Other times he relies on more complex methods such as marrying to get at women's dowries or bank accounts. His various schemes go fine until—spoiler alert—they don't, and the past comes back to undo him. It was first published in 1952 as Man Alone, and appeared as the above in 1954. The art, which we love, is by George Erickson, whose consistently excellent work we've shared previously here and here.
 Next time he should try thinking about baseball. 
Above is a nice piece by George Erickson for Eric Allen’s Like Wild. It’s the story of a soldier of fortune who returns from Laos to find that his patch of land in Florida is coveted by a local villain. Complicating matters is the villain’s wife, who is a seductress with no qualms about a little action on the side. You know the drill. You may also notice the rather Freudian aspect of the art—i.e., the female figure wraps herself around the male figure in a sexual style embrace that causes his, er, drink to overflow onto the carpet. Well, the stain will come out with water and soap, hopefully. Top marks on this one.
 A silk sash, a tight knot, and gravity equal suicide. Or do they equal murder? 
Above you see the cover of British author James Hadley Chase’s 1953 revenge thriller I’ll Bury My Dead. It has what we consider unusually downbeat art, but with the body count in the story being so high maybe that’s to be expected. Basically, a shady P.I. dies of an apparent gun suicide, but his brother is convinced it’s murder and decides to investigate. He ends up uncovering a blackmail racket, getting on the wrong side of the police, and being connected to more corpses, including that of his brother’s wife, depicted in George Erickson’s cover art. Were these murders or suicides? This book was savagely reviewed for the most part but was reprinted as recently as 2009, which goes to show that pulp is critic proof.
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The headlines that mattered yesteryear.
2002—Mystery Space Object Crashes in Russia
In an occurrence known as the Vitim Event, an object crashes to the Earth in Siberia and explodes with a force estimated at 4 to 5 kilotons by Russian scientists. An expedition to the site finds the landscape leveled and the soil contaminated by high levels of radioactivity. It is thought that the object was a comet nucleus with a diameter of 50 to 100 meters. 1992—Sci Fi Channel Launches
In the U.S., the cable network USA debuts the Sci Fi Channel, specializing in science fiction, fantasy, horror, and paranormal programming. After a slow start, it built its audience and is now a top ten ranked network for male viewers aged 18–54, and women aged 25–54. 1952—Chaplin Returns to England
Silent movie star Charlie Chaplin returns to his native England for the first time in twenty-one years. At the time it is said to be for a Royal Society benefit, but in reality Chaplin knows he is about to be banned from the States because of his political views. He would not return to the U.S. for twenty years.
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