playboy yoga: the end of the world as we know it

Well, people. I think we can declare yoga officially dead. Mix a little brand power with some western hypersexualization and what do you end up with? Playboy yoga, bitches! I think yoga in the western world has imploded. There’s nowhere left to go. This is the pinnacle, and the lowest of the low. We can just say, “It was nice while it lasted, yoga. T & A.”

You know “The Day the Music Died,” February 3, 1959, when Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and The Big Bopper were killed in a plane crash in the American Midwest? That’s kind of how this feels to me.

Overall, it was a crazy day in the yogasphere. There must have been some kind of badass retrograde action happening: Bikram Choudry turned down Madonna‘s request for private classes; and while less sensational than all this, some yoga download website offered a Star Wars yoga class (thus proving my cosmic reason theory for all this).

[Hot Playboy Yoga tip via elephant journal and YogaDork. Thanks, masters of the interwebs!]