Have you heard of the Parents’ Television Council, or of its founder L. Brent Bozell?

No? Hmm. Well, if you haven’t heard of this group I’ll go ahead and give you some clues as to who they are. What do these five things have in common: Janet Jackson’s “wardrobe malfunction,” “Friends,” “The Simpsons,” “Gilmore Girls” and MTV?

All of them have had complaints filed against them with the FCC in some form or another by the PTC. And in most cases, ALL of the complaints filed against the show or insident were from the PTC.

See, this “watchdog group” has taken it upon itself to become the standard-setter for what they feel should be allowed on television. During the year 2003, 99.8 percent of all complaints brought to the FCC were filed by the PTC. When “Nipplegate” threatened to shake the very foundation of Western society and civilization, it was the PTC that had filed most of the 550,000 complaints. What happened is that the group put up a webpage with links to a standardized form that allowed a person to click and complain- including those that hadn’t even seen the program or incident in question.

To give examples of their complaints, the AP reported that

“One complaint involved an episode of ‘Friends’ that aired in May 2003. In it, a female character, her husband and the husband’s ex-girlfriend talk about fertility treatment at a medical office. There were multiple complaints about a November 2003 episode of ‘Gilmore Girls.’ In one scene, a character’s grandfather reminisces about college pranks involving nudity. In another, two college students discuss an incident in which a male student who was nude spent the night in a dorm hallway. A complaint over ‘The Simpsons’ included a scene in which students carried picket signs with the phrases ‘What would Jesus glue?’ and ‘Don’t cut off my pianissimo.’”

(As an aside, all of these complaints were thrown out by the FCC for not being obscene, which is what the complaints were based around.)

Now, why does this group perform such an “important community service” is such volume? Why else- for the children! Heaven forbid that someone under the age of 18 hear about a bare breast on television waves, after all.

My problem with this group isn’t that they don’t like what’s on television, because to be honest most of what passes for entertainment these days on television is worthless. My problem is that a small minority of people have taken up such a large and vocal role in what is and is not on the airways. It is because of the PTC’s influence with the FCC that recently, a five-year-old episode of the animated series “Family Guy” was edited by Fox because it showed an image of the lead character’s bare butt. The butt was blurred and thus couldn’t be offensive.

In one of the most aggregious examples of lunacy regarding this issue, several dozen ABC affiliates refused to air the movie “Saving Private Ryan” for fear of complaints regarding the movie. In a sign of sanity, the FCC has since come out and said that it would not accept any complaints regarding the movie being aired on regular television.

Now, common sense regarding the issue states that if someone doesn’t like a show or the content of it, that they an simply change the channel. However, the PTC has said that they couldn be offended even by passing the show when changing channels.

I consider myself a fairly intelligent man with a pretty thick skin when it comes to what offends me on television. I’m much more bothered by a sitcom with shoddy writing and bad stories than I am of a boob. I truly hope that this was just an election year issue, and that people as a whole haven’t become so weak that they have to listen to the ramblings of a self-righteous group of holier-than-thou naysayers instead of making up their own minds about what they want to watch or listen to on radio or television.

Power does indeed corrupt, and right now the PTC is looking a little worse for wear. The backlash has already begun against the group, as well- see, CBS has refused to pay the $550,000 fine levied against them by the FCC after the complaints from the PTC over Janet Jackson’s performance at the Super Bowl last year, a performance that was offensive not for her boob being bared, but for the fact that the music and “performance” truly, truly SUCKED.

Oh, and if this offended you, and you feel the need to make a complaint about what I’ve written? Then I humbly and truly invite you to please… kiss my ass.

Out.

It’s just about an hour after lunch, you’ve just come back from Chili�s and had those baby back ribs� a couple beers (that your boss doesn’t know about). You’re sitting in your chair relaxing, when all of the sudden, a rumble from below. Oh no! Yes, there is no escaping it, you’re going to have to take a dump at work. That beer and ribs is a toxic combination in your bowel. Your neighbors have already turned green and passed out from the toxic cloud you released 15 minutes ago.

So with your hand down your pants, you walk quickly to the restroom putting your hand out in front of you like a running back to a defensive backs helmet, you slam through the door. A quick survey shows both stalls are filled! “Oh for the love of GOD WHY ME?” you scream! Some guy stands up from the stall to look at you. The SINK! No!, you tell yourself you’ll hit the 1st floor restroom and then the sink if it doesn’t work.

Gaseous cloud behind you, you slam back through the door, hit the stairwell, three steps at a time, your close to meltdown. You jump to the landing of the stairwell, almost feel a nugget slip out, three at a time you sprint down the last flight, hitting the door, you knock some poor geek from accounting on the ground, his glasses and pocket protector go two different directions, you scream “Sorry I’ve got a special delivery that can’t wait!”

Bursting through the restroom door, ‘oh shit,’ Women�s. You were blinded by the buildup of impending doom and hadn’t noticed the picture or the blur of words. Creek, creek, creek, go your sneakers as you ease back out.

Bursting through the restroom door, the right one this time, you survey the surroundings, one stall open! It only takes you four steps to get thirty feet and into the stall. Pants around your ankles you look at the seat. There is liquid on it.. “Why does this always happen at these moments? They make movies about this shit.”

The recycled toilet paper pulls one sheet at a time and you cover the seat with such meticulous precision, the pope himself would put his old wrinkled ass on it. Ass planted, you look up at he Gods above and then, it dawns on you. You’re not alone. Poop Anxiety.

Why, could you go through all that trouble and then be worried about squeezing one off, with your neighbor there? Visions of you letting go, and him start laughing go through your head. “Why won’t he leave?” you think. You consider putting your hand under the stall and asking for toilet paper. Awkward things like that make people leave. It quickly comes apparent to you that the guy next to you is reading the paper. The pain is becoming increasingly unbearable. You give up, you say a prayer, and release. For some reason, you are now laughing a bit, causing the guy next to you to laugh. “I’m sorry he cries out.� That makes it even worse. If they had a red face meter, yours would be darker than a Washington apple. Even worse, the water is splashing and coming back up. “Oh God,” you exclaim. The guy next to you, flushes, gets up and runs out. ‘Peace’ he says as the door shuts.

“Ooooohhhhhh” you sigh. “Time to call in the men in the HAZMAT suits,” you say under your breath. You flush, raise up, walk to the sink to splash water in your face, yes its still red. “Never again” You say, as you open the door and trek back to your cube.

Logging back in and checking a few of your sites you visit, you come across a blog that starts “So I’m reading the paper in the restroom, when this lunatic bursts in screaming to the toilet Gods.”