For more than sixty years Iāve kept a subscription alive to a magazine I once had to hide from my parents. Back then, MAD Magazine was ātoo adultā for kids ā too subversive, too smart-alecky, too dangerous. Which of course made it irresistible.
I smuggled it home like contraband, tucked it under my mattress like a Marine hides a pint of whiskey. While my parents thought I was reading wholesome comics, I was soaking up the gospel of satire. And in those pages, I found my satirical bible.
Why MAD Mattered
MAD wasnāt just a magazine. It was a battlefield.
- Fold-in covers turned Norman Rockwell into Norman Shockwell.
- Movie parodies skewered Hollywood before it was cool.
- āScenes Weād Like to Seeā showed us the absurd truth by flipping the script.
- And Alfred E. Neuman grinned through it all with his eternal motto: āWhat, me worry?ā
To a kid in the 50s and 60s, it was a secret initiation into a world where authority wasnāt sacred, politicians werenāt noble, and ads were nothing but lies in shiny suits. In other words, it was practice for the real world.
The First MAD āRecordā I Ever Played
Whatās funnier to a kid ā a burp or a fart? Answer: whichever one makes the adults madder. And MAD knew it.
I still remember the first cardboard ārecordā tucked into an issue ā Itās a Gas. You could pop it out, drop it on your little record player, and suddenly you had burps set to music.
Of course it was hilarious. Of course we played it until the grooves wore out. At that age, the cruder the funnier ā and MAD understood that better than anyone. That record wasnāt just a gag; it was a rite of passage. It taught us that comedy could be juvenile and genius at the same time.
From MAD to Chatrodamus
If MAD was my bible, then Chatrodamus is my field manual. The missionās the same: take a world thatās upside down and hold it up to the funhouse mirror so people can see the truth.
- MAD gave us āScenes Weād Like to See.ā Chatrodamus gives you Croc Pit Justice.
- MAD mocked idiotic inventions. Chatrodamus serves up DarLOSER Awards.
- MAD never feared authority. Chatrodamus never fears labels.
What I learned hiding MAD from my parents is the same lesson Iām writing today: satire is truth with a grin.
From the Peanut Gallery to the Battlefield
Satire doesnāt stay on the page. It follows you. For some of us, Alfred E. Neumanās goofy grin even made it to the jungles of Vietnam.
Pinned down in an ambush, out of ammo, outnumbered, and not likely to see sunrise, a Marine still had the gallows humor to turn Alfredās line into a battle cry:
āWhat? Us worry?ā
That wasnāt just a joke. That was survival. Humor became armor, and satire became a shield. If Alfred could grin with a missing tooth while the world burned, so could we.
Itās the same lesson I learned smuggling MAD under my mattress: when life is insane, sometimes the only sane response is to laugh at it. From the Peanut Gallery to the battlefield, satire kept us alive.
Chatrodamus Prophecy
They thought satire was dangerous in the 1950s. They were right. It still is. A folded magazine in a kidās backpack, a cardboard record of burps, a rant on a blog, a meme on social media ā they all carry the same fire. You canāt ban it, you canāt silence it, and you canāt stop it. Satire outlives the serious every time.
So yes, Alfred E. Neuman was my first prophet. And sixty years later, Iām still subscribed. Because when the world is rotten, satire is scripture.
I was never a big Star Trek fan, so corny it was sickening for me, so when I saw MAD do a parody of it called Star Blecch, I just had to laugh. No apologies to those weirdos out there who still consider themselves “Trekkies”
What I learned hiding MAD from my parents is the same lesson Iām writing today: satire is truth with a grin. “what are you boys laughing at up there?” It’s called comics Mom!”
So yes, Alfred E. Neuman was my first prophet. And sixty years later, Iām still subscribed. Because when the world is rotten, satire is scripture.