In this era of pinprick voyeurism (could Foucault have ever predicted the nippleslip?), puritans will have you believe that an a-okay on output is the same call on any off-field activity. Everyone else will tell you that we’ve just stopped caring, ‘cos if the price is right, artistic temperament will always dwarf media bait-and-pull: Even R. Kelly – man with the most thinly-veiled designs in music today (hell, in anything today) – is labeled pervert like it’s something that should be written on a tax return (though if persistent mongering leads to more flaming acts of self-martyrdom like Happy People/U Saved Me, that can only be a good thing, right?). So why is it that a professed sweet tooth for teen-girl movies has people looking at me like I deserve to be charged under Megan’s Law?