Springfield After Dark

Rule 34 was coined for a reason, and the Simpsons gave it its purest proof. Somewhere between the first Treehouse of Horror and the ten-thousandth "The Simpsons did it," the internet decided that yellow skin and four fingers were a perfectly viable erotic template. There’s something almost philosophically interesting about it—a show that’s been running long enough to satirize its own decline, now living a parallel life in drawings that would make Matt Groening’s lawyers weep. Homer’s dumb lust and Marge’s patient suffering repurposed into something the FCC will never have to rate. I’m not judging. Springfield belongs to everyone now.