Lohan in the golden age of the panty shot.
We all knew this story wouldn't turn out well. But who could have guessed that, of all those teen sexbomb train wrecks (Spears, Hilton, Aguilera, Moore, etc.), Lohan would be the first to hit rock bottom and bounce her way into a nude chorus line?
With her film career in an irreversible tail spin (her latest film was dropped from theaters and ushered quietly into the cultural crematorium that is ABC's Family Channel), the bombed pill-popster has been making occasional appearances in Los Angeles county's finer adult detention centers and rehab clinics.
Sure, there's tragedy in this fall. We remember Mean Girls. Decent movie, we suppose. And she always seemed like a basically nice person, you know, when sober. We got as much pleasure as anyone out of that hypnotic boob-bounce gif that made the rounds not so long ago.
But let's not pretend there isn't equal tragedy in grooming child stars to be the sex objects they invaribaly become. As pitiful as this career turn is, more pitiful by far is the thirst for celebrity, both first and secondhand varieties, that causes figures like Lohan to exist in the first place.
In the end, we won't feel quite right about it, but we won't be averting our eyes when the tube top comes off. Don't like it? Fine. Let he who hath no sin cast the first stone.