If You Wanna Make An Omelette, You Gotta Let Some Kids Get Molested
When did it happen, America? When did we become the police state that we've always feared, that thousands of brave men and women laid down their lives to try and banish from existence? As I'm sure you've heard by now, Craigslist will henceforth be charging a fee and requiring credit card validation for any posts in the "erotic services" section. At this point I'd usually say something like "well, fuck me," but I'm afraid THE MAN would want my PIN number first. I'm firmly convinced that in time, this gross invasion of privacy will be viewed as a travesty on par with the CIA bugs and Japanese internment camps of the 50's, forcible quartering of British troops in the 1600's, or theoretical passage of a Patriot Act that also watches you go to the bathroom. Have you grasped the sheer magnitude of this event? People used to get to post whatever they wanted, offer any kind of depraved, illegal, or animal-related sexual service, and now they can't. That sacred freedom, guaranteed by the Ninth Article of our Constitution, has been denied them by the powers that be. Have you read 1984? Because this is a million times worse. And I‘m saying that as someone who hasn’t even read the introductory acknowledgments. All I know is, if it’s anything like that one Apple ad, this has got it beat. Craigslist, what you are doing is plain wrong. By impinging upon the rights of those of us (not me) who may want to proffer certain erotic talents to the world at large, you are taking away my freedom of speech (although again, not me, but rather a friend of mine). Worse, you are destroying the fragile psyche of a scared little boy who, raised in a convent by abusive nuns, used to hit himself in the genitals with rulers whenever he had a sexual impulse, and was only able to begin healing upon the discovery of Craigslist and its willingness to cater to any act of perversion, no matter how slathered in cooking lard or likely to result in a lawn dart up the ass. Again, and I stress this for no particular reason other than the sake of good journalism, I’m referring to a very close friend of mine who is by no means me. But if I
When not writing for Cracked, Michael is inviting disaster as head writer and co-founder of Those Aren't Muskets!