Filth, Moral Degeneracy, and Lashings of Ginger Beer

Is it any wonder the world is a cesspool of unrestrained lustful impulses and general moral turpitude, with a dangerous shortage of smug sanctimoniousness? We are living in end times. Peak Piety is upon us. "Yea!"I say to you my brothers and sisters, (or maybe I mean "Forsooth!" I'm not sure) "our moral hygiene is like the kitchen of an unwedded man, whose Oreo crumbs and takeaway pizza crusts bringeth out the ants of moral degeneracy." 

How did it come to this? What brought about this fall? How did we stumble from the Holy Innocence of Our Babyhood, when we emerged from that Special Unmentionable Place, bathed in the Perfect Unction of Mommy Juice and Celestial Light, to our grubby Latrine of Impure Thinkings?

The answer is simple, my brethren, and sister-en(?). Three words: Fancy Book Learning.

Here I speak not of your Lawrence or Joyce, or Cosmo, but of a more dangerous--because paediatric--moral bacterium. Yea Forsooth, I speak of children's books. "Social Issue" novels for the teen market. Anglophilic Adventures for the preteens. Even early readers overflow with smut and innuendo, singing the praises of self-abuse in daemonic doggerel. 

Moose mopping? I ... I ...  I'm sorry, this really upsets me ... they're children, for the Love of God!

I just get so darned angry. I mean, look, JUST LOOK, at this: 

Oh, yes, Ha Ha Ha. Molestation is so mirthful, if you're a Greens voter or some other sort of Pagan Pervert, but I can tell you that God is not so pleased with this. And neither should we be. Yeasooth, our Moral Salvation will begin when we disinter the pestilent corpse of this Enid Blyton authoress and perform Divine Interference on her most wicked soul!