You've probably heard that walking corpse, part-time criminal and full time car crash Lindsay Lohan has signed on to pose n00d for Playboy. While we support any individual's god-given right to pose naked for whomever they so choose, we can't help but be a tad bit uninspired by this news and ultimately, we feel a little gypped.

If there's one thing we love around here, it's Playboy. Sure, we work in the adult profession where men and women strip down to their birthing costumes and proceed to insert not only each other but random objects into the numerous orifices contained within the human anatomy. This is done in an attempt to generate some amount of secretion that, in theory, should lead to pro-creation but due to scientific advancements in hormonal control and the occasional abortion, is simply induced for the pure joy of seeing someone get, "cummed up."

Frankly, we love every minute of it.

Are you a woman who struggles with road rage and an insatiable libido? Do you often find yourself screaming obscenities through your windshield at the other cars on the freeway while secretly wishing you were in bed, sipping a glass of wine and shoving a man's face into your pulsating vagina?

Remember a few months back when we presented a special little contest called, THE POPPORN TWITTER TITS CONTEST? Yeah, you remember...we asked folks following us on twitter to submit candid photos of their zoobs for a chance to win $500 bucks. It was a heck of a competition but in the end, we had our winner, Phoenix Askani.

Hey, remember a little while back when we told you all about how Hugh Hefner was selling his guest house? You could totally buy it and live right next door to the mansion, thus pretty much becoming an instant cool cat, a la James Caan? Well, thanks to the shithole of a mess the ecomony is in, you can totally go one better by becoming the new owner of the magazine that made Hef famous in the first place. Yep, Playboy is for sale. Lock, stock and softcore barrel.

So last night as I performed my weekly ritual of trying to shoot my load across the room and hit Blair Waldorf in the face with my ample spooge, a little bird whispered something beautiful in my ear (or maybe it was Page 6, I’m not sure: mixing Genny Cream and cough syrup does funny things to perception). The magical whisper said something along the lines of “Shirley Jones is going to pose for Playboy.”

Ever wanted to hang out at the Playboy mansion, just like James Caan and other major Hollywood players? Well, fuck, dude, you probably can't, 'cause that shit's pretty exclusive (not really), but if you've got a spare 28 million bucks laying around (and who doesn't?), you could live right next fucking door! Hef's selling the guest house!