How to put together a Sunday front page:

1) Pick a story. This afternoon is the Jets’ attempt to get to the Super Bowl. If they win, they’re in. If they lose, their season is over. That’s a solid story to hang a front page on.

2) Pick an angle. There aren’t many with this story (all New York papers are Jets fans at this point, just as every New York paper cheered on the Yankees last year [once they reached the playoffs]), so try to be creative. Maybe… maybe a prostitute’s perspective? Yeah! The Post has at least one prostitute working in a non-sports capacity; ask her her opinion on the Jets!

3) Pick a photograph that illustrates your story/angle. Like maybe the prostitute is dressed in (only!) a Jets jersey? And she’s holding a football? And acting sexy-like?

4) Pick a catchy headline. If you have a hooker and the Jets, you’d think that’d be enough, but Post readers aren’t the sharpest knives on the drawer. Really heap it on. HEY, JETS! ASHLEY SAYS… GO ALL THE WAY! It’s time to score should contain just enough entendre to really hammer home your intention to continue showcasing your staff whore at every possible opportunity.

This really and truly is the worst paper in the country.

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Page 2 is excerpts from Marques Douglas’ diary, detailing how he has been preparing for tonight’s game. Which is actually newsworthy.

And on page 3… more of the whore. In Q &A form!

Who is cuter — Mark Sanchez or Peyton Manning?

Mark Sanchez. Is that a trick question? Is he single? LOL. Call me!

(LOL! You let strangers have sex with you for money. RAOTFSRIMA!)

Is football a turn-on?

Yes. There is something so sexy about a man and his game. Football appeals to the warrior in every guy. If his team wins, help your man enjoy the spoils of war by being a ravishing treasure. If his team loses, be there to comfort him and make him feel better. And it’s very sexy to watch.

(Just make sure that, after the game, you are sexy. Says the whore.)

What’s the sexiest part of football?

I think football is the sexiest sport out there. Hot sweaty men acting like beasts — I mean, come on! It’s so sexy to watch them act like animals.

(I imagine she says “Come on!” like Jimmy on South Park. And that she’s a prostitute.)

Halftime — enough time for love?

If the Jets are winning and the energy is up, yes, yes and yes! Always time for a quickie!

(What a great question to ask a streetwalker! As a matter of fact, I always think there’s time to have brief anonymous sex! Just try not to get caught by the vice squad!)

How does one celebrate a playoff win?

You don’t! You should treat it like every other win. You don’t play to win a playoff game; you play to win championships! When you raise that Vince Lombardi Trophy, that’s when the celebration begins. Go to Disney World, LOL!

(OK. That’s the second time [in a 7-question interview] that you have written “LOL.” Cut it out. And if there’s nothing special about tonight’s game, then why the fuck are you on two of the paper’s first three pages talking about the Jets?)

Can you guarantee a Jet win?

Why, yes, I guarantee victory. They have the No. 1 defense. Offense wins games, but defense wins championships. The Colts will be trapped on Revis Island!!! Shout-out to the die-hard Jet fans of Toms River, NJ. (That would be my brother Kyle and all of his friends.)

(So a championship isn’t a game? Good to know. And Kyle’s friends must be so pleased to see themselves get a shout-out from their buddy’s whore sister.)

Last words on the subject?

J-E-T-S . . . JETS! JETS! JETS!

(LOL.)

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The folks in charge of stripping paint from the windows at PS 131 in the Jamaica Estates section of Queens are using Rock Miracle. Which is (according to inside whistleblowing sources) “potentially hazardous.” And anyone who has complained (after being told to hide it from inspectors if ever they should appear) has been “yanked from the job.”

The job is being done by a private contractor for the School Construction Authority. That makes the city ultimately responsible for all of the lawsuits being filed by the parents of the students in 5… 4.. 3…

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Someone is attacking man and beast at a Park Slope dog run. With eggs.

But it wasn’t me because a) I don’t even know where Washington Park is and b) with what eggs cost these days, I’d sooner throw my stock portfolio.

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Goodwin!

End of O’s cowardly lyin’ is just the kind of solid reporting we’ve come to expect from Professor Ridiculous.

He begins by telling the folks who supported Scott Brown into office that “we the people of the United States owe” them a huge debt. “They didn’t merely elect a senator. They ripped the façade off the Obama presidency. Just as Dorothy and Toto exposed the ordinary man behind the curtain in The Wizard of Oz, the voters in Massachusetts revealed that, in this White House, there is no there there. It’s all smoke and mirrors, bells and whistles, held together with glib talk, Chicago politics and an audacious sense of entitlement.”

“[Obama] never advances a practical idea. He doesn’t listen to anybody who doesn’t agree with him.”

While there are no actual examples provided to back up these hyperbolic assertions, Goodwin does seem to punctuate accurately, so there’s that.

Mayor must pull the plug on 9/11 trial reminds us that New Yorkers are tough, but not tough enough to prosecute mass murderers at the scene of their crime. “With many residents and city officials growing angry and frightened, the mayor rejected a plea to move the trial to Governors Island as ‘dumb.’ Actually, it’s not nearly as dumb as holding it in the shadow of Ground Zero and turning the area into an armed fortress.”

At least they’re turning it into something (has it really been nine years?).

But my favorite is Greatest loss of all. Here, Goodwin praises “Mike Cannizzaro’s terrific piece in Friday’s Post on [Jets] owner Woody Johnson.” What, no praise for the other 5 Post employees who wrote snarky “rest in peace, slutty junkie trainwreck!” articles about Casey Johnson that preceded the poignant remarks of her father?

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Indeed.

Dick busted in guy grope informs us that Andy Dick has been arrested again.

“According to the Huntington [West Virginia] police complaint, Dick approached a man and ‘unexpectedly and without invitation grabbed the victim’s crotch, repeatedly groping then kissing him.’ Dick was busted in 2008 for pulling down the tank top of a 17-year-old girl in California.”

Poor Dick.

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Former ESPN analyst Sean Salisbury has finally admitted to showing his co-workers cellphone photos of his junk in 2006. When asked why he did it (and why he’s been denying it for four years), Salisbury replied, “My father was diagnosed with cancer in 2006.”

In his defense, when they found cancer in Teresa’s thyroid, the only thing that cheered me up was showing people cellphone photos of my junk. And ice cream.

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I never thought I’d live to see this. Mentioned today in Page Six (today on page 13) is none other than… Dabney Coleman. He was at Elaine’s with Bill Maher.

That makes me happy.

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Fun fact: Michelle Phillips left Dennis Hopper after eight days of marriage due to his “unusual sexual demands.”

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A 74-year-old woman was on an American Airlines flight from NYC to Argentina. Her family is alleging that she ran out of oxygen but it took the flight attendants two hours before they noticed. The plane landed in Bolivia and left her there. She died three weeks later.

I like to think it was the same flight crew that was so hateful and obnoxious to everyone on the way back from our honeymoon (American Airlines seems to like hiring idiot Southern women who loudly proclaim their love of Jesus and condescend to non-Whites).

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Hey, “film critic” Kyle Smith! What happened when Scott Brown got elected?

“A supremely aloof and arrogant president whose chief policy idea was to ignore what Americans wanted on nearly every front was humbled if not humiliated.”

Nice. Now exhume someone infinitely more talented than you and use them to make a joke that probably represents the polar opposite of their own political leanings!

“Then the rimshot to all these punchlines: Air America went out of business. (If Dorothy Parker were here, she’d say, ‘How could they tell?’)”

Nice! Now go back to preening over your new Messiah, Scott Brown (bonus points if you shit on Obama and Jimmy Carter!).

“Scott Brown has redirected the country away from Obama’s dangerous, delusional ideas. We should all be grateful, even President Obama, if he wants his entry in the history books to begin with a phrase other than, ‘Like his party’s other recent presidential disaster, Jimmy Carter . . .’”

Terrific! Now explain why you’re disappointed more American soldiers aren’t dying. Is it schadenfreude?

“Schadenfreude? Not at all. Schadenfreude is hoping the war in Iraq goes badly because it might damage a presidency. Schadenfreude’s cousin gluckschmerz is being bummed out about the success of the Surge because it made a president look courageous, responsive and wise.”

Gluckschmerz! Hilarious!

Stairs.

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Most people taking antidepressants don’t benefit from them?

That depresses me.

I’d better ask my doctor to up my dose.

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A political cartoon featuring a donkey with his pants on the ground? And the lyrics to “Pants on the Ground”?

Give Mike Luckovich the Pulitzer!

Then push him down some stairs.

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M-O-R-E! More! More! From the whore!

Some of the girls I’ve been with lately complain that I’m too well-endowed and they don’t want to have sex with me anymore because it’s painful. I know a lot of guys might love to have this concern, but they don’t realize the problem it causes. Do you have any tips on how I can make sex less painful because of my size? — Anonymous

ASHLEY: “I dated this football player for a little bit. It never got to the point where we were having intercourse, but I did think, ‘How is that thing going to fit inside me and feel good?’ It was like 12 inches long and the width of a 5-liter Poland Spring bottle. I didn’t want any part of it.”

ME: Call a mohel.

My husband comes home from work with perfume on his clothes. He says he walks through a department store on the way to his subway stop and women at the cosmetics counter spray him, but the perfume always smells the same. I don’t know whether to believe him. — Marta, 27, Manhattan

ASHLEY: “I would follow him to find out if you’re overreacting.”

ME: I’ll save you the trip; he’s cheating on you. B’also? You’re an idiot.

I have a platonic relationship with a friend I’ve known for 10 years. I’m very attracted to her and want to be more than friends. But I’m afraid to tell her, since I value our friendship. Should I let her know my true feelings? — Mark F., 40, Union Square

ASHLEY: “Before you tell her how you feel, do a little ‘foreplay.’ When you lean in, hold it there a little longer than normal. Perhaps change the way you look at her a little bit. Dress and smell sexier.”

ME: Call a mohel.

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The STYLE section has various photos of Lady Gaga fans who were at her recent Radio City Music Hall gig.

Here’s a photo of an 8-year-old and her 5-year-old sister.

And what does their mother have to say for herself?

“These outfits cost in the thousands. Look at how many rhinestones there are! My husband is going to kill me if he finds out!”

Let’s hope so.

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The bad news: The Nets don’t “play” again until Wednesday.

The good news: They lost again last night, bringing their average down to a solid 7.0% success rate (or just over one-third of the second-worst team’s 20% record). They lost by 32 points.

Build! That! Arena!

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The weekend is drawing to a close again. And once again, I invite any and all lovers of improvisational comedy (who have $5 to spend and an hour to kill) to swing by the Magnet Theater at 9:30 tonight. Dog Court will be going for their sixth (6th) straight victory. I’ll be there.

Time, methinks, to pick at the withered bones of Teresa’s birthday cake…

Ciao!