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:

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.