Thought you'd heard the last word on that $10,000 photo? Think again! We wouldn't have offered such a gargantuan sum — or taken jobs that required reading Cosmo in the first place — if we weren't really really even more publicity whorish than usual about this topic. Ladyculture has lost touch with reality and it has lost its mind, and the biggest culprit is the sort of thing our Catholic school teachers used to call sinners of omission; those of us who stand by acting like it's all one big postmodern joke, that no pleasure is too guilty, that gorging on pictures of pretty people is as valid as reading words, and that there's nothing at all sinister about the tangled web of interests working to keep you dropping half your paychecks on shit men aren't even aware exist. Which is why we are using this opportunity to launch ourselves a new campaign, START SNITCHIN.'

Gossip is fun, but we really don't actually derive perverse pleasure from being mean. (Really truly, friends of Christine Coppa!) Although we can't, like Monicagate-era Larry Flynt, offer you a million dollars for every Baldfaced Incident Of Hypocrisy from the gynomag industry you unearth for us, we can offer you a small sense of purpose. (No like kinda seriously!) As much as Redbook's editors might disagree with us right now, there was a point to our pricey public shaming of their art department other than the usual desperate call for your attention. Women's magazine editors play all sorts of tricks on their readers, from shoving products down their throats without telling you their yearly swag intake could feed a small Chinese province, to treating the women they're supposed to be mentoring like indentured servants from a different caste. None of us wants you to lose your jobs, which is why, like our new friend Matt Cooper, we'll suffer through years of legal wrangling to protect the identity of any source who courageously offers us inside information for the good of the nation. (Uh, bad example!) Truly paranoid? Look ito Hushmail. Just want to have a drink and vent? You know where to find us.

Reference: The Five Great Lies Of Women's Magazines