Tits and Gay Weddings!

 [Having submitted this one elsewhere and heard nothing back, I belatedly post it here...]

Heady days at the moment for anyone who enjoys stupid, out-dated arguments.
First of all came the non-starter debate about whether gay people who want to marry
each other should be allowed to get on with it.
“Sure,” said pretty much everybody in the country. “It’s 2013, does anyone really
still have a problem with this?!”
Apparently someone did, and we were subjected to the whole protracted “discussion”
in which a few members of the Tory party tried to argue that gay marriages were
going to bring about the downfall of society.
You might remember this as being the same Tory party that’s already bringing
about the downfall of society through every means except homosexuality.
After resoundingly settling the issue in favour of gay marriage, a new storm was
sparked when news emerged that antipodean newspaper magnate, perjurer and antichrist Rupert Murdoch
was considering getting rid of The Sun’s “page 3.”
Presumably, this means he’s considering getting rid of the customary “woman with
her knockers out” picture on page 3, rather than the entire page as a concept. (If he did
that, what would page 4 have to lean against?!)
Immediately, what feels like a centuries-old debate was re-ignited.
Angry feminists took up their usual “About time, too!” / “It’s degrading!” positions,
and the average Sun reader replied with the traditional “Yeah, but… tits!”
Personally I find the whole thing as depressingly archaic as the gay marriage
argument, and weirdly similar. Uptight people were, once again, taking far too much
interest in where strangers put their genitals.
Personally, I couldn’t care less if you want to put your dick in another guy’s mouth
or your tits in a national paper; it’s your business and this is a free country. You
wouldn’t catch me doing either of those things, for reasons of heterosexuality and
mercy towards the paper-buying public, respectively, but I don’t have a problem with
other people doing either to their heart’s content.
As for any morality argument against page 3, the cat is long out of the bag when it
comes to nudity.*
I can get instantly streaming, HD quality hardcore porn on my phone right this
second; a woman showing me her nipples in a paper can barely hope to elicit a
distracted “that’s nice, dear” from any modern person with even a casual interest in
pornography. My spam filter wages a constant war with e-mails offering videos of
octogenarian twins doing unspeakable things to a horse (or as Aldi call it, “a cow”)
and people are still arguing about Jenny from Romford going topless in a tabloid?!
There are plenty of good reasons not to buy The Sun, but an attempt to preserve the
modesty of someone willingly flashing their sweater-melons isn’t one of them.
And anyone with a puritanical notion of keeping us all locked away from normal
sexuality should probably have hoisted the white flag around the time the gays started
getting married.

*Don’t think I wasn’t tempted to do a cat/pussy joke, there.