I was 16 when
Cobra hit the big screen. This was the era of Tipper Gore and the PMRC, and my mother was worried about her son's appetite for gory pictures - not that I really watched all that many. She fretted over my enjoyment of
The Shining because of Jack Nicholson's relentless pursuit of Shelley Duvall, despite my being a Stephen King fan in previous years, and Kubrick's overall accomplishment.
At the end of Cobra, Sly impales the bad guy on a meathook of some kind. I think I was watching it on video at home with some of my adolescent buddies when this scene came on and my mother walked in. It cemented her view of a category of film she simply referred to as "meathook." To this day, she'll talk about how she never cared for "those meathook movies" or that something may be "too meathook" for her taste. Browsing through the video store, she's quite likely to lean over to me and utter, "meathook," as if to say, "let's move on."
I think I'll start using "meathook" as a tag now.