It's Saturday evening and I'm a little bored, so indulge me. I'm reading this neat website about classic comics, and, lo, I saw this cover. Like a spirit called from Judecca, a dusty old memory was stirred up from deep in
the PSF archives:

He shoots that rifle like it's his weiner!... You don't see that? Giant weiner, shooting off bullits? Just me?
weiner shooting bullets......ow
Sigmund Freud would have a field day with Mr. McCain... the latter being wholly fictitious not withstanding, they were, by my calculation, ontemporaries, separated by a few thousand miles of ocean--and, I think, a language barrier.