Above is a detail from a cartoon published in The Realist in 1967.    [Mature viewers not offended by moderately graphic sexual and scatological satire can click here to see the whole thing.]  I'll
never forget how happy it made to see this cartoon for the first
time.  I was seventeen then — I saw it in the dorm room of a
fellow student at my prep school who had a staggering
collection of underground publications, including a complete run of
Paul Krassner's The Realist. 
I can't believe the school authorities knew how much subversive
literature he had stowed away in his room — or how widely it was
corrupting the imaginations of his fellow students.  The Realist was truly shocking stuff in 1967.

The image made me happy not because I hated the classic Disney cartoons
and characters — but because I loved them.  I loved them too
much, and unconsciously.  They were embedded in my psyche on
deeper levels than I ever suspected.  To see them dragged
unwillingly into the light of an adult consciousness, mocked and
defiled, sexualized, allowed me to engage them as an adult — to try
and assess how they had affected me.  And it allowed me to
appreciate them as great works of art — not just as cultural
baggage.  That appreciation has only grown over time.

Transgressive, subversive
culture works in counter-intuitive ways.  By breaking spells, it
can lead to deeper realms of magic and enchantment . . . which
themselves will one day have to be transgressed and subverted.

Issues of The Realist are being archived on the web now — you can peruse them here.