Long before Pornhub, before TikTok thirst traps, before “sex-positive” was a marketing trend shoved down our throats by lube brands, there was SCREW #172 — for June 19, 1972 — a thick slab of summer filth served up with a side of radical honesty, full frontal nudity, and just enough weirdness to keep the straights nervous.
This issue was edited by the legendary Jim Buckley, who kept things rolling while Al Goldstein was off somewhere giving the middle finger to the entire eastern seaboard. The cover, a surreal, leggy mindfuck by French illustrator Philippe Weisbecker, made it clear: this wasn’t just porn. It was culture with a cock.
Centerpiece: “The Sage of Aquarius”
Buckley and SCREW journo Bob Weiner sat down with none other than Tom O’Horgan, the mad theatrical genius behind Hair and Jesus Christ Superstar. O’Horgan dropped acid-drenched insight about sex, art, and freedom while probably sitting lotus in a kimono. It’s one of those interviews where you can practically smell the patchouli and hear the soft thud of a soft-focus orgy somewhere offstage.
Nude Newbies Unite
Paul Paris delivered the ultimate field guide for those brave, trembling souls stepping into a nudist camp for the first time. “Novice Nudists: What to Do on Your First Day at Camp” is half confession, half etiquette manual. Spoiler: don’t show up hard. Also, bring a towel — not for modesty, but because those picnic tables get hot in the sun, and your balls will thank you.
Poetry in Motion (and Position)
One of our favorite titles of all time lands in this issue courtesy of Sally Nilsson:
“Susan Susan I’ve Been Thinkin’ What a Nice World This Would Be If Your Pants Were Round Your Ankles and Your Box Was Under Me.”
Is it a poem? A proposition? A cry for help? Doesn’t matter. It’s pure SCREW. It reads like a dirty limerick fell down a flight of stairs and landed face-first in a pair of crotchless panties.
Fuckbooks, Weirdness & Al Being Al
Michael Perkins brings the literary heat with Fuckbooks: Zap! Out of the Closet and Onto Your Bookshelf!, celebrating the surge of queer lit hitting the mainstream like a double-ended dildo in a Mormon gift basket. Ruth Batchelor contributes a poem titled “Competition,” which is kind of sweet, kind of filthy, and kind of makes you want to call your ex.
Christopher Watson’s “Weirdness” column lives up to its name as usual, touching on paranoia, public masturbation, and something that might have been about aliens. Or hookers. Or both.
And of course, Al Goldstein delivers “Dirty Diversions,” a rambling, rage-fueled grab-bag of rants, raves, and whatever grudge he was nursing that week. The man could complain about a tuna sandwich and make it sound like Watergate.
Buckley’s Shit List
Back when “cancel culture” meant someone threw a pie at you on the subway, SCREW had the Shit List — where Buckley named names and flung dung at hypocrites, censors, and scumbags with both barrels. If you made it onto that list in 1972, odds are you deserved it… or at least pissed off the right pervert.
SCREW #172 is a time capsule from a wilder, weirder, and hornier America. It’s got naked people, naked opinions, and no apologies. Fifty years later, it still reads like a slap in the face with a warm dildo.
We salute it.
—P
