By Christopher Harrity
Originally published on Advocate.com September 04 2014 3:00 AM ET
When I was a kid, my stepfather amassed an amazing collection of science fiction magazines. He had so many that he had his room lined in bookcases to hold them all. The covers seemed to be sending me messages, hot gay messages. Most of these covers were in my stepfather's collection.
Might as well start with the ne plus ultra of crypto-homo covers. Could have been one of my father's Physique Pictorials. But that's another story.
Hey, gurl. Like my globe?
This is a family website and all, so I won't go into all the combinations of fun you could have with a two-headed boyfriend. Obviously, we will wear far less clothing in the future.
This is obviously a story about a gay relationship in space that hit the skids because of too much booze and dope. Like a Galaxy of the Dolls.
This reminds me of a date I went on.
So many things going on here I may have to take a nap. Please note the cleft skullcaps.
"I swear, I shall smite you with my rod and ball if you don't stop dazzling me with those star-spangled shorts!"
"Boys! Boys! We can have a creche and a menorah."
"One more Barry Manilow song and I WILL LOSE MY SHIT!"
Nice to know that the loincloth is an eternal fashion go-to. I can't imagine a future without them.
Another great moment in future fashion: gaucho pants.
In the future, when Santa dies, he will be replaced by his very intimate friend, Gus.
We are always up for a hairy ape, but what is this Dianetics thing? Is it the science of Diane von Fürstenburg?
"I told you, it's not a scoop-neck, it's a bateau neckline!"
Too much gay for one magazine cover. Please move on.
Um, recruiting for what? Man can?
Giant spiders, Glinda the Good Witch in her nightgown, and me with half my blouse torn apart. Just another night of restless dreams, kids. Means nothing at all.
Zork was certain that the other men were admiring his giant biceps. Little did he know they were in the final planning phase of Zork's eyebrow tweezer intervention.
Folk bears in space. Possibly sans pants.
Call you Joe? I'll call you darling, darling.
His silver ciré space suit challenged his sibilant S's.
Nothing to see here, folks. Just your basic ripped underwear and alien probe fantasy. Keep moving along. And yes, "Other Space" means just what you think.
I tried to figure what "analog" meant for years. I can't tell you how far off I was. I was befuddled by obvious phallic symbolism.
Yeah, sure. I'd have sex with robots. Bring 'em on.
So phallic it's practicaly insulting.
This one gave me nightmares. Like Mormon Pirate Mom-Dads.
Wins the award for most nudity and worst drawing.
Early prototype for the Ambiguously Gay Duo.
Gay-Gay-Gay. And if you don't get it, fine. Just leave right now. You heard me. Shut your browser. You're probably on Netscape or something, anyway.
And so, as beautiful nude men gambol in outer space through shimmering rainbow halos, we bid you adieu.