Er - how about passing the time

with a little game of

solitaire?

Not every decent person dragged

into a love of filth approaches

the question of his compulsive

masturbation as a matter of

epistemology; some seek

understanding through

hermeneutics. "It was hard to

believe that I was possessed by

demons," reads one post to a

porn-addiction site, "but the

Bible does confirm their

existence."

Of course, the demons are sneaky

little devils, land sharks that

get you to open the door by

claiming to have a candy-gram: I

didn't mean to enter the

dirty-movie theater, but, I, uh,

had a flat tire, and I was

looking for a jack. "One of the

biggest problems I have," reads

still another post to the same

site, and emphasis added, "is

the ready accessibility of porn

via the Internet. It appears

when you least expect it, and

just when you think you can deal

with it - you can't."

A challenge to Suck readers: Go

try to stumble across

alt.sex.pictures accidentally.

Whoops! How'd that happen? We

can't help but recall the letter

published by sex columnist Dan

Savage, a couple of months back,

from a reader who said that he

was het, but had been trapped

into receiving a blow job by a

masseur who stuck his thumb up

the ass of the helpless straight

customer - disabling his ability

to physically resist.

Among the real-life battle tales,

absolutely our favorite story

from a man fighting to stay pure

is this one:

OK, now: How nuts is that? Is it

us?

And so, stuck with the terrible

possibility of being tricked -

tricked, I say! - into

participating in shameful sexual

mercantilism, decent folk

everywhere (at least the ones

who can't afford the padlock and

the length of PVC) work with

their god-fearing political

representatives to prevent the

Medusa from drifting across

their line of sight, rendering

them helpless, rock-hard stiffs.

We remember with particular glee

a scene from our newspaper days,

when an entire congregation

turned up at a city council

meeting to protest the opening

of, get this, a "bikini bar";

one congregant after another

asserted the connection between

exotic dancing and the horrors

of rape and pedophilia. Sitting

in the back of the room,

scribbling notes and resisting

the urge to snicker, we were

pretty sure they were protesting

a bit too much. Favorite quote:

"It all just makes me sick,

actually." No doubt.

Note that the cure, both in law

and in church, sounds

suspiciously like the disease,

or at least a particular genre

of the evil media in question:

"Take our Lord's yoke upon you

and He will give you rest...."

(Submit to the power - it feels

good, once you get used to it.)

It's hard to turn on the

television or pick up the

newspaper these days without

hearing laments about the growth

of dirty-minded culture: South

Park, Jerry Springer, and

naughty Web sites are all, the

argument goes, warping our minds

and weakening our society. In

this kind of near-hysterical

environment, not every sex

warrior is elected or baptised

to the battle; some are hired to

it. Defending one of his shows,

Dawson's Creek, against

allegations of cultural

line-crossing, WB Network

President Jamie Kellner insisted

last week that an episode

depicting a sexual relationship

between a high school teacher

and one of her students had

concluded in a socially

responsible way. "Kellner said

the episode ultimately sent a

positive message," read a report

in Monday's New York Times,

"because the teacher lost her

job, and Pacey was ostracized at

school."

Not quite as positive as a

flogging in the public square,

but it's a start. The shame,

after all, is the hottest part.