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Betty Rubble’s hands are sheathed in gloves of shiny black leather as she pinches Wilma Flintstone’s nipple. Fred Flintstone looks on, his tongue lolling lasciviously out of the side of his cartoon mouth. Pebbles Flintstone, all grown up in skintight dominatrix gear topped off by an Iron Cross necklace, dangles a whip above the head of Dino. The legs and tail of the cuddly pet dinosaur are bound with spikes and chains, a ball gag crammed in his mouth. Dino’s eyes are rolled back in a fever of pain and ecstasy.  This depraved, defiantly copyright-infringing masterwork stood at least ten feet tall inside the original location of Austin rock club Emo’s, where I first encountered it in 1996 on one of my earliest trips into the…

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