Tonight we’re rewinding the VHS of pop culture to ask one simple question: Whatever happened to all the boobs? In the 1980s and early ’90s, R-rated flicks were basically a wet-T-shirt contest with a plot: think Porky’s meets Friday the 13th with bonus saxophone music. Fast-forward to the 2000s and suddenly the MPAA slaps you with an NC-17 if a naked ankle lingers too long—but show a dude getting pencil-stabbed in the eyeball and you’re coasting into PG-13 territory. We’ll break down:

• Why the ratings board will karate-kick a nipple off the screen but high-five a headshot.
• How global markets said “no thanks” to nudity but “yes please” to neck snapping.
• The rise of prestige TV—where dragons, teen angst, and full-frontal somehow coexist.
• Whether the pendulum could swing back, or if Hollywood is permanently stuck in “From Breasts to Blood” mode.

All of it sprinkled with real research (shout-out to Brown & Childers, Thompson & Yokota, Ward, and the rest of the citation squad) so you can cite something besides your uncle’s Blockbuster memories.

This week, we’re diving into a topic that lights up headlines and online comment sections like a Molotov cocktail at a PTA meeting: the female teacher–male student “affair.” You know the story—attractive thirty-something educator, underaged male student, and a society that somehow treats it like a subplot in a teen comedy instead of a felony. But we’re not just here for the tabloid trash—we’re also unpacking some real data. We reviewed a research article exploring how gender affects public perceptions of culpability and victimhood in student-teacher sexual relationships.

This week, we’re heading to the Lone Star State for a story that puts the “fun” in “funeral” and the “what the actual hell” in “criminal justice.” A Texas embalmer allegedly took anatomical revenge on a dead sex offender—and let’s just say, the body wasn’t the only thing getting stiff that day. It’s a tale of postmortem payback, questionable ethics, and the kind of crime scene that makes even seasoned detectives say, “You know what? I’m good.” Grab your gloves—we’re going elbow-deep into this one.