These days, any person with a smartphone, no shame, and the resolve to shove said phone down his chinos can fire his nethers halfway across the planet on a sine wave of physics and hobgoblins. Think about it -- the commoner now has the power of Zeus; namely, his power to emerge from the clouds and waggle golden Olympian junk before confused yogurt farmers. In a historical context, even those of you with the most bare-bones data plan qualify as demigods.
"Here's a dollop of sugar for those cold winter nights. XOXO, Anubis, the Jackal Lord of Death."
But let's remember that Zeus frittered away his unfathomable cosmic abilities by acting like Scrooge McDuck in pon farr. We too are squandering our unprecedented ability to teleport our wee-wahs and hoo-hahs across time zones. Let me put it this way -- can you name any crotch shot role models?
No, you can't. Anthony Weiner, Brett Farve, Ron Artest ... these guys aren't exemplars of the dick pic. They're the goddamn Dick Pic Legion of Doom. These are the kind of mustache-twirling doofuses who spend all day sending dick pics to the Hall of Justice's super answering machine for Wonder Woman, oblivious to the fact that Superman's talking pets are the ones manning the switchboard.
Truly magnificent beasts.
No, if humanity is to truly reach a new golden era of peace and acceptance, we as a species must reclaim the crotch shot from those evil forces that seek to abuse it. When Johannes Gutenberg invented his famous printing press, his first thought was "Gott in Himmel, I have developed a device that will facilitate the dissemination of millions of dick pics." But did he do that? No, he printed the Bible instead.
And did he print up an illustrated Bible with Noah as a jolly bearded phallus, shepherding all the spoon worms and naked mole rats into the ark, two by two? Of course not. Gutenberg's historically undocumented restraint should serve as an inspiration to us all. Here's my threefold plan for salvaging Earth's cultural heritage: