This post is gonna be filled with whys. Why does Lindsay Lohan keep shoving her dirty snatch down our corneatic regions? Why doesn't she gain weight? Why does she keep her hair that crusty shade of straw? Why can't she understand that photoshoots like this are only amusing when they are ironic? When you're a jobless junkie with more bags under her eyes than on her arms it's not cute to like a post-appocalyptic Edie Sedgewick. And for God's sake, when will Lindsay learn that she is a mothereffing idiot? This photoshoot for the latest issue of Muse isn't iconic or ironic or even amusing in the slightest. It's just sad because you know that for Lindsay this is as good as it gets. Hotels and cigarette ashes and smeared eyeliner and cocaine brain-that's her life. Thing is, it's not glamorous. It's like watching "Sid and Nancy" with the sound turned down. Without the addition of appropriate rock and roll tunes this shit is just plain depressing. And those long, lanky limbs-ugh! Can you even imagine those brittle bitches pawing at you? No thank you! I'd rather get to third base with Susan Boyle. At least I don't have to worry about her poking out one of my eyes with her skeletal, refugee arms so that she can steal my wallet when I'm not looking. Lindsay. I swear. I think I speak for everyone when I say put it away. Put it all away. You've traumatized us enough for one decade.