This New York Times story of how Phil Burress went from self-destructive little pervert to famed moral crusader really, truly touches my heart:

Mr. Burress was raised on a farm in Hamilton County outside Cincinnati. He attended a small Evangelical church two and sometimes three times a week, and married a fellow parishioner when he was 18.

At 14, he said, he found a pornographic magazine on the roadside and became obsessed with seeing more. Every chance he got, he said, he drove into Cincinnati to buy, and sometimes steal, magazines or videos.

Over the next two decades, he had four daughters from two marriages. But he says his obsession with the raunchy fantasy world of pornography ruined both marriages and drove him away from religion.

"I was living a double life," he said.

Oh to what depths we sink! But luckily, Phil reformed. And from then on, he decided, he would rid the earth of that scourge called PORNOGRAPHY. The End. Except for the part about how—and I don't want to name any names here—we all know plenty of other people who have looked at pornography. Or people who still look at pornography from time to time. Or better yet, people who look at pornography on a semi-daily basis. And guess what? They're all perfectly fine. There's too much else of interest in their lives, quite frankly, for porn to ever take over. At worst porn satisfies some idle curiosity, or gives a bit of visual texture to pre-existing sex drives and imaginings. That's all.

With young Phil, however, it seemed to be quite different. Here we had a mind, evidently, already brimming with visions of domination and repetition and loathing. Already there were a lot of things like porno in there, and there would be many more things like porno in the future. So contact with actual pornography for someone like Phil only shaded in these drives, gave them some concrete oomph. But if it hadn't been porn, it would've been something else. Stalking celebrities, maybe. Or... a manic crusade against strip clubs, which seems in itself to be a form of porno, in a way. But banning pornography doesn't really solve the problem—which, when it comes right down to it, is Phil Burress' brain and no one else's.

So honestly, leave it the fuck alone.