Unforgettable

This very well written article by Tony Woodlief is worthy of your attention.  He begins with this.

Several weeks ago I was in a bookstore, where I noticed a boy of 10 or 12 thumbing through the most recent Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. His mother stood nearby, her boy and his newfound reading material in full sight. She seemed not to care. It's a sign of something—decayed community bonds, perhaps, or moral cowardice—that the thought of speaking to her about this made me cringe. Then the boy put down the magazine, and they wandered to another part of the bookstore, and that was that.

Of course that wasn't really that, because the entire purpose of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, and indeed of most pornography choking the stream of popular culture—be it sexual or violent—is to cast images that are unforgettable. Whether it's a woman arching luridly, or a film villain carving up his screaming victims, their creators and especially their profit-seeking marketers want you to remember what you've witnessed.

His conclusion:

One might be tempted to think the damage is limited to the girl who exposes herself for cash, the boy learning to look at women the way a butcher eyes a cut of meat. But the damage is never limited. The compromised woman has taught countless girls that this is how to gain the admiration of men. The boy, meanwhile, has been weakened, and the seeds of a hunger have been sown, and he has started down a path toward the perversion of a man's natural desire for women.

The libertine scoffs, but I know too many men for whom this is true. I am one of those men. Images are etched into my mind, and they spark a perpetual struggle. Many of my sins, especially those against my wife, are rooted in those illicit hours learning to see women as playthings.

The eyes and ears of children must be guarded—this is common wisdom garnered over centuries and across civilizations. Only recently has it been cast aside. "Guard your son" is what I should have told the mother in the bookstore. "It doesn't end with this," I should have said. God help me, I know.

Read the rest.

(HT:  Bob Thune)