Lyle Stuart Publications

The Paragons of Free Speech in the 20th century were not pretty people. Men like Larry Flynt, Al Goldstein, Howard Stern, and Lyle Stuart, like 'em or not, served as True Champions of the First Amendment, yes the very one often supposedly held up as the defining feature of this great country The United States of America. What is the social responsibility of a man driven to flout social mores, challenge community standards---blasting boundaries, illuminating hypocracies, giving the people what they really want? Sometimes the act is like handing razor blades to babies---after all, people are fucking stupid, base creatures. Look at the shit they're gobbling up on T.V. for however many years you wanna go back. It's one more example of the many jokes the fiendish Creator built into his most treasured masterpiece ('in my own image' my ass! haha) the Angel With The Asshole. Say outrageous things and more often than not the rabble misses the punchline. The spirit of the expression is lost and all that remains is the filth and the chaos. Everybody gets rich. Except for Al Goldstein, poor bastard, he lost it all. Comics: Lenny Bruce, George Carlin, and now you got guys like Louis C.K. It's ok now to talk publicly about jerking off and how much you hate your kids. As long as it's clear it's comedy. So no hate speech. That's dangerous. No race riots. Well, people can still hate kikes, cunts, and faggots, as long as they do it right, but not niggers cause niggers are really scary, they got nothing to lose. Oh wait--Barack Obama! If only the people banded together and destroyed the rich. I don't mean clowns like Stern and Flynt who made a mint selling bad words, I mean the guys behind the guys behind the guys with the real power. Quit getting tricked into hating each other on the ground and take out your rage and aggression on the cocksuckers who are really running shit. But it's impossible to get to those people, even if you fly jumbo jets into twin towers or whatever. Are you registered for rape? Oh dear you must try it! Obamas Blossoms.---Did you react?

The Anarchist Cookbook! Fucking A! Getting my hands on this legendary item produced a rush akin to acquiring my first knife, BB gun, motorcycle, brick of firecrackers, porno mag, bong, hit of acid, shot of dope, entry to the peep show, or trip to the casino. Ah sweet youth! The long haired, bespectacled, aging hippy bookstore clerk, straight from central casting, raised his brows conspiratorially at the gang of high school burnouts from teenage wasteland assembled before him and with a smirk handed over a few matte black copies of the underground classic. Now we had the recipes to make bombs and psychedelics in our kitchens! Fucking A indeed.
Lyle Stuart published this radical tome in 1971 when no one else would touch it. It's what makes him stand out from the other guys. This isn't pornography or even political propaganda. It's truly subversive: I mean bomb and drug recipes! At the height of the revolution. Now the way I misremember it, The Anarchist Cookbook was side by side with Getting Even, and The Poor Man's James Bond. Revenge, surveillance, techniques for the man on the street to combat his personal Goliaths whoever they may be. Defeat Your Enemies!
Then there was Casino Gambling For The Winner, written by Lyle himself. He makes all sorts of claims of his own stellar gambling career and insists you too can be a winner. We all know the vigorish hanging over the players head, like the Sword of Damocles, no matter how slight in certain circumstances (i.e. blackjack with perfect strategy, craps with full odds behind the passline, baccarat) is precisely how the house builds their vast empires. Even a 1% edge will amount to a ridiculous fortune provided the game is available to enough players and goes on long enough. The fount of hopeful suckers never runs dry and a book like Lyle's is pornography for the Loser loser---it feeds the fantasy that someday the stars will line up, that the odds are gonna magically shift into his favor, that he'll go on a rush, and ride it perfectly, like a pro, pyramiding those bets, and walking away right when the tides turn, that he'll have the discipline, the detached coolness of the expert mind, that he will not succumb to foolishness and delusion, the twin engine demons of envy and greed, that he'll be able to pocket a healthy win and leave the premises a winner. Maybe once he'll get away with a couple bucks, more than he expected, but then what? It's never enough. That great escape will play on his dreams and twinge at his impulses until he returns and loses the family farm at the roulette table, or his wife blows the nest egg like Julie Haggerty in Lost In America. There was that one cat who went to Binion's Horseshoe many years ago and took up Benny Binion's offer to accept any bet no matter how large so long as it was the first bet placed. William Lee Bergstrom put $777,000 on "don't pass" and won. Cue the cumshot.
Yes, as Cintra Wilson coins it in her terrific book with a beautiful blow-up doll, gaping mouth on the cover, A Massive Swelling; Celebrity Re-Examined as a Grotesque Crippling Disease and Other Cultural Revelations the cumshot of revenge! So ubiquitous in the feature films of Hollywood, this motif is a glaring beacon to the seething resentment rampant still in the hearts and minds of the everyman, akin to what the english call quiet desperation but much angrier, much uglier, gaping wounds like raped vaginas and rectum, nearly killed 'im. Did the Columbine boys read the Anarchist Cookbook, guess it seems like they didn't really need it did they? Y'know I heard the whole outcast misfit justification was a falsification, that the fellas were actually popular, part of the in-crowd. A lot creepier huh? I've also seen the white nationalist lines on the interweb gleefully point out that Klebold and Harris were jewish and homosexual. Who knows, who cares, the world is clearly a plane of Hell. With the world wide web as it stands today the publishing feats of Goldstein, Flynt, and Stuart almost seem quaint by comparison. But without the bold advent of such grand artifacts of the old technology, the printing press, without Hustler, Screw, and The Sensuous Woman, you wouldn't have the infinity of polymorphous perversion ever at the ready now on your private personal computer screen.

Public figures subjected to Lyle Stuart's scrutiny over the years included:
Walter Winchell, Steve Wynn, and L. Ron Hubbard.