“You can’t censor reality,” said Pulitzer Prize-winning Post photographer Carol Guzy.
Well, maybe you can.
I understand that a strict religious newspaper has a policy not to put photos of women on the front page — an easier task than perhaps it should be, if you look demographically at world leaders. This, they say, might be sexually distracting.
They have since apologized for editing the photo.
But for once, I agree with them. Since Hillary Clinton became Secretary of State, most of my male friends have been unable to leave their homes, lest they see a picture of her and become so sexually distracted that they can no longer function. “We thought it was bad when she was First Lady!” they murmur. “But time has only made it harder to bear!”
I can only imagine how they must feel. Being a man seems like a real hardship. You can be sitting there, reading the newspaper, when all of a sudden, you glimpse an image of a woman, and there goes what could have been a productive Tuesday! Sure, you appear civilized, but underneath that exterior is a beast, a wild animal just waiting to be unleashed by a photo of Hillary Clinton in the Situation Room.
It’s times like this that I’m glad to be a woman. Aaron Schock can appear on the cover of Men’s Health, shirtless and sporting abs that look almost sentient, and I am perfectly able to continue with my day. Meanwhile, just a glimpse of Hillary’s left ankle, and — there go the men. Or so Der Tzitung seems to think.
I know that women can be distracting. I have been a woman for decades now, and I am totally unable to focus on anything, ever. Sometimes, I walk into a room — well, less walk, than “glide” — and I sense that no one is able to focus because they have been overpowered by my musk. And I’m not even a sex symbol like Hillary!
Far be it from me to suggest that the newspaper alter its modus operandi, or that incidents like this show how palpably ridiculous it is to try to censor the news to match one’s creed or credo.
But I think it was Alec Woolcott who said that censorship is like piccolo playing — “even if it’s good, I will not like it.”