NEW YORK CITY – As a small child, I had no idea how many people were out there tirelessly looking out for my best interests. This abject ignorance wasn’t my fault. Clearly my parents were raising me to be a dangerously uninformed ingrate. Hell, they never even bothered to pass along to me how important it was to stop, drop and roll.

My first exposure to the subspecies Homo sapiens heroicus americanus came in the form of Ralph Nader, a man who, despite walking around looking like a perpetually-constipated packrat, scratched and clawed and whined his way to prominence by bravely insisting everybody always wear their seat belt — even while at the dinner table.

As I aged, more examples of the essential American Cultural Hero stepped forward, especially during the mid- to late-1980s. From “Batman” Jack Thompson fighting the good fight against the imminent threat to national security known as 2 Live Crew to some bird named “Tipper” who made her name taking on purveyors of what now seem like pretty tame rock song lyrics, the ’80s were a great time for courageous people armed only with a stick up their ass and too much time on their hands.

Lately, I’ve been concerned the market for American Cultural Heroes has become stagnant. Exhibit A of the worrisome evidence: Ralph Nader is still among the leaders of the effort to regulate Utopia into existence, apparently unable to locate a worthy replacement rodent-activist to follow in his tiny footprints.

Other American Cultural Heroes of the 80s appear to have simply run out of steam and/or money. Even the indefatigable Batman Jack has slowed his regulatory proposal roll — although to be fair, this may have something to do with Jack being disbarred a while back. (For the record, following his disbarment, Jack opined the whole proceeding was void ab initio, a Latin legal term which in this context roughly translates as “decisions of the court lunatic ex-lawyers believe they’re free to ignore.”)

You can only imagine how happy I was this week to discover the American Cultural Hero is, in fact, alive, well and fully engaged.

What momentous issue has reinvigorated the pulse of American Cultural Heroism? The pernicious, youth-corrupting evil of Cosmopolitan magazine, of course.

Led by the fearless Victoria Hearst, the granddaughter of some obscure redneck publisher named Billy-Bob Randy Hearst, the “Cosmo Harms” campaign aims to rein in the runaway freight train of innocence-extinguishing filth which is Cosmo.

“Cosmopolitan magazine glamorizes things like public, anal, group or violent sex in nearly all of their issues,” according to the group’s website. “We are asking that Cosmo be sold to adults only and have the cover wrapped like all other porn magazines in retail shops.”

Kudos to Victoria Hearst. Finally, someone is addressing the epidemic of youth reading print magazines, something we all ignore despite knowing it’s every bit as common as millennials bugging their parents for a re-mastered VHS copy of Footloose or spending all day in front of a television watching the demon spawn known as MtV.

Who hasn’t seen teens eagerly thumbing through Cosmo in the checkout aisle, seeking advice on “39 Ways to Thrill Him in Bed,” or edifying themselves with respect to other forbidden knowledge, like “10 Traumatic ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ Character Exits, Ranked by How Much They Destroyed You”?

Yes, people, if there’s one thing kids today simply cannot get enough of, it’s reading things on paper. Ask anyone under the age of 30 and they will tell you the tablet is tres passe. It’s all about print baby!

If you doubt the importance and necessity of Hearst’s campaign for quasi-tabloid decency, ask yourself this: If it weren’t for Cosmo eagerly leading youth astray, where would kids turn in search of smut and other titillating filth — the internet? Don’t make me laugh. (Seriously, don’t. I’m drinking a coke right now, and it burns like hell when that shit comes out through your nostrils.)

If you still can’t sense the urgency here, I don’t know what to say, other than thankfully the decency of the nation doesn’t rely on cynical, apathetic, porn-addicted misogynistic pigs like you. Luckily, we are a country not just of Flynts, Hefners and Guccionis, but a nation of Thompsons, Tippers and Hearsts, as well.

While I do continue to fear for the hearts, souls and reproductive organs of youth, I can at least rest easy knowing the War on Smut is being waged by true American Cultural Heroes, people of character, honor and integrity. Most importantly, they maintain a finger squarely on the pulse of youth culture, from the runaway popularity of roller skating rinks and drive-thru diners to that whole “sock hop” craze they’re always talking about on their Myspace profiles.

Three cheers for Victoria Hearst! Here’s hoping she achieves her goal of getting Cosmo wrapped in black plastic and made available on a strict adults-only basis. It just might be our last chance to save the country from articles like “Wear This Smoky Eye and Seduce Without Trying.”

Maybe next Hearst can persuade the nation’s dentists to remove National Geographic from their waiting rooms. I’m pretty sure all those pictures of half-clothed African women are leading otherwise decent Americans to become tolerant of gay marriage.