So that's where The Realist has been

Even with this big old internet thing at my fingertips, my life in west/central Pennsylvania has left me disconnected with a lot of the influences and stimuli that stirred me when I lived in a more cosmopolitan setting. So, big ups to Tom Spurgeon for reminding me about Paul Krassner via Krassner's column on newspaper comic strips and a weak-willed media.

I first discovered Krassner through his autiobiography, Confessions of a Raving, Unconfined Nut : Misadventures in Counter-Culture, another in my list of favorite self-indulgent autobiographies. While the focus of that book is on Krassner (of course), it provides an entertaining, well-written snapshot of the counter-culture in America from the '50s to the '80s. The Library Journal blurb Amazon quotes provides the essential, concise version of the book in a way better than I can:

In 1984, when People magazine published a special section on the 1960s, it hailed Krassner as the "father of the underground press." Krassner's typically puckish reaction: "I demanded a blood test." On and off since 1958, Krassner has published the Realist , a no-holds-barred satirical magazine whose influence is wildly disproportionate to its modest circulation figures. Along the way, he found time to edit Lenny Bruce's memoirs, introduce Groucho Marx to LSD, and serve as Larry Flynt's publisher for Hustler. Krassner is an engagingly modest man who constantly seems surprised to be asked to appear in public with Norman Mailer, Ken Kesey, or Allen Ginsberg. A marvelous portrait showing how a man kept his sanity, integrity, and sense of humor through some very turbulent times; for most popular collections.

If I can make it home tonight (yet another Pennsylvania snowstorm may prevent this), I'll reread his memoir. I highly suggest it to the snarky bastards of the blogosphere, or anyone who isn't offended easily. Nothing makes me happier than rediscovering something after not thinking about it for a while, but it depresses me that I did forget. Do you ever get that feeling? Have you ever been surprised by remembering, either on your own or by a prompt provided by someone else, something from the past?