Remember the "I Dream of Jeannie" series from the '60s? Barbara Eden in her harem outfit, wielding a killer head nod, causing all kinds of innocent mischief for her master. Did you know that network censors made her cover her belly button? Ah, the x-rated bare navel -- serious titillation for teenage boys, and perhaps their fathers as well, in the early part of that repressed decade.
Fast forward some forty-plus years. If it's titillation you're looking for, turn on just about any channel. The recent Miss USA pageant featured belly button-exposed contestants in itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny yellow polka dot bikinis (sorry, I know that song's going to run through your head, but it so fit my sentence) skimpy enough for the beaches of Brazil.
TV has gone from banning belly buttons to condoning cleavage -- watch for the obligatory lean-over-a-colleagues-laptop scene in just about all cop, legal and medical dramas. After all, a sexy coroner has to have something under that oversized lab coat to tempt the docs.
There's simply no use for the "I see London, I see France...." rhyme we chanted as kids. Seeing someone's underpants? That's so yesterday. Chances are they're not wearing any.
Being a network censor back in the day was undoubtedly a stressful job. After all, they had to protect us from --- well I'm not sure what exactly. Today we're either all grown up or beyond redemption. My money's on the latter.
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