I remember when I first learned of Peter Jackson’s perversely subversive, delightfully dissolute, pricelessly profligate MEET THE FEEBLES. I had never heard of the film or director Peter Jackson before, but after reading the VHS review in FANGORIA Magazine (I was a teenage reader back then) and seeing it billed as “The Muppets on acid,” I immediately started making phone calls to the video stores in my area.
In part one (see 