What’s the most upsetting thing here? That there are video games based on witch trials? Sure, that’s bad — the inherent misogyny of characterizing women as witches is uncomfortably Salem-circa-1692.

But what about the fact that in the minds of certain game makers, witches apparently bear an eerie resemblance to anime schoolgirls? That’s bad, too, but not necessarily surprising — if you’re going to caricature a group of women in hopes of racking up sales, better to have them look like Britney Spears-esque preteens than witches of the warted, broom-toting Halloween variety.

How about the notion, then, that the best way to check if someone’s a witch is to take off her virtual panties? That’s up there, touching, as it does, on themes of pedophilia, voyeurism, sexual objectification of women/girls, and rape fantasies.

But I think the most upsetting aspect might actually lie in the comments posted on the gamer blogs that have covered Dokidoki Majosaiban. Many have been removed, but the ones that remain include such treasures as “If only I could take off the white pants hmmmmmmmmm,” and “Best. Game. Evar” (sic).

Some posters point out that it’s inconsistent for us to accept other questionable sorts of games — like those that allow you to “control animated characters doing drive-by shootings,” as one poster put it — while criticizing this one. That’s a fair point, but it hardly seems a justification for this girl-groping game. What’s next? A new version of Grand Theft Auto where you can rape the prostitutes before you shoot them?

I try to have a sense of humor about such things, but this just seems really sick.

The real point of the interview is to publicize GreenStone Media, Fonda and Steinem’s new all-women, all-talk radio network, which officially launched in September with the goal of “bring[ing] the world to women and women to the world by becoming the predominant producer and syndicator of female-oriented talk radio programming.”

Of course, Colbert approaches Steinem and Fonda with a more, er, traditional attitude, interrupting Steinem at the beginning of the interview to suggest that they continue their conversation in the kitchen. Cut to Colbert behind a countertop covered with pie-making ingredients, flanked by Fonda and Steinem and sporting a “Kiss the Cook” apron — an accessory whose message Fonda takes literally.

“Grab some of those McIntosh apples,” Colbert says to Steinem, “and explain to me what is the state of American feminism.”

“Sort of like an apple,” Steinem quips back — “extremely healthy, full of vitamins and meant for everyone.”

But enough of my attempts at description. You should stop reading this right now and watch the clip, maybe while enjoying some pie. After all, it’s like Colbert says: “It is fall — and what better time to explore the bounty of the American harvest than when there’s a little nip in the air.”

Unconventional expressions of gender are fascinating in their own right, but they’re especially so when considered in the light of our country’s ongoing debate over same-sex marriage. If definitions of gender can be as cloudy as this science suggests, it seems even more questionable to be passing constitutional amendments — as 20 states have done so far — restricting marriage to male/female couples. It prompts the question of whether there is a difference between someone who lives as a woman despite having external testicles (i.e., is transsexual) and someone who lives as a woman but carries testicles inside. Should the rights of marriage extend to the second but not the first? And if so, why?

If these gender ambiguities raise enough interest and awareness, perhaps opponents of same-sex marriage will have to redefine what, exactly, they’re opposing — which might refocus the debate onto what it’s actually about: certain people’s discomfort with definitions of sexuality that differ from their own.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the class has a waiting list — often of more than 100, according to the article — made up of students eager to hear Sawyer lecture on the effectiveness of condoms vs. Norplant or answer questions about whether anal sex “causes AIDS.” And the class isn’t just about modern sex — students also learn historical tidbits, like how crocodile dung used to be a preferred form of contraception for women.

I’m not sure what bugs me most here: the fact that the demographic that is growing up with “The O.C.” hasn’t learned that the rhythm method is not a reliable form of birth control, or that sex education — resisted by parents and school districts horrified by the concept of artistic nudes — is being put off until after most of the students have become sexually active. (The class’s lengthy waiting list means that most of Sawyer’s students are seniors.)

I remember a moment in a high school sex ed class taught by my English teacher in which he put his entire hand into a condom, stretched his fingers and said, “Don’t let anyone tell you they’re too big.” It was an uncomfortable moment, but at least I understood the mechanics of birth control before I started precalculus. We didn’t get school credit for our sex ed class, but there was no reason to. Giving students a chance to listen to lectures on sex is like leaving a straight teenage boy alone in a room with a Victoria’s Secret catalog — one is definitely going to seek out the other. Our responsibility should be to provide this education early in students’ lives, before they start having sex on their own.

Don’t get me wrong — every American student should have the chance to put a condom on a banana at least once in his or her life. But it shouldn’t have to be for college credit.