You know, I'm surprised anyone even bothers to buy "The Sun" anymore. I mean in terms of literature and factual accuracy it's probably just a step up from what your demented uncle wrote on the wall in his own feces after his last stroke; but for Page 3? Why? Maybe back in the old Dickensian days when everything was tinged with smoke and smallpox, and seeing a nude woman usually cost a farthing and came with a subscription to Syphilis Monthly, but not now.
Why are you buying the Sun? For the tits? That's like drinking out of a stagnant pond when there's a perfectly good, constantly refilling, water cooler nearby. I hereby introduce you to the Internet. Trust me, have a look. Your life and sock drawer will be changed forever.
The only reason I would be in any way saddened or disappointed by the disappearance of The Sun is that no longer shall young boys have that experience; playing in the woods and stumbling across an old bin filled with damp, yellowing Page 3s. When you would all huddle round and gawp and "phwoar" at things you wouldn't have a clue what to do with back then (And probably now, because you're a virgin. Nyah nyah nah nah nah!).
A perfect coupling of boyhood bonding, outdoor adventures and awkward sexual awakening. And what have we traded it for? A cold, indoor search engine in which all roads lead to porn. No need to go outside and catch infections off of rusty nails kids; Uncle Google will teach you about the birds and the bees. You don't need the Sun children; you need to sit, hunched over in the darkness of your room, your hand slowly curling into a sticky, arthritic claw, your bladder distended from urine retention and your eyes wide and unable to sleep for the titillating images that flash before you, burned on to your frontal lobe like a cattle brand, but with way more bukkake.
Soon this will be us all. Our hands evolved into self lubricating tubes and our eyes milky white, adapted to a singular light source, lidless and ever staring. Subterranean creatures above ground. And all the while The Sun burns out and into oblivion. And we stare on. Unknowing. Uncaring.
Basically what I'm saying is I learned everything I know about sex from The Sun.
Also I am single. Ladies.
(Editor: Glenn, when the World Future Society asked you for your own take on the ascension of humanity in years to come I don't think they quite had this in mind. Also please come out of your room. Your parents are worried and the neighbours are complaining about the groaning)
