Dr. Thorpe: This is India's Star Wars.
Zack: Robin Williams has some sort of hideous baby face and gangrene on his chest.
Dr. Thorpe: How come the guy in the middle is staring at the lamp instead of the genie who's magically popped out of it? "Genies are a dime a dozen, but look at this lamp! It's awesome!"
Zack: That looks more like a gravy boat than a lamp. Maybe gravy boat genies suck. Like they only grant you one wish and it can't be worth more than thirty dollars.
Dr. Thorpe: Even assuming all of their powers are gravy-related, I still think a gravy boat genie would be pretty neat. "Gravy boat genie, thicken up this gravy! I command it!" He'll probably hang around and baste your turkey all day on Thanksgiving so you can go in the living room and watch football.
Zack: I bet any wish you make he turns it around into something bad. Like you wish he would thicken up the gravy and you come back and there are kids leaving handprints to dry in it. Or maybe he just takes a really long time and smells bad. Also after he grants your wish he hangs around for way too long afterward and it gets really uncomfortable.
Dr. Thorpe: Well obviously it takes some ingenuity to properly command the gravy genie, but that doesn't mean he's a bad guy. You just have to know how to make your gravy-related wishes specific enough that he can't turn them around on you. It may sound like a lot of trouble, but good gravy is not easy to make and he does it supernaturally (which is just cool on its own).
Zack: Yeah, but even if you get the wish right it will be impossible to get rid of him. Any time you hint about him leaving he will be like "remember that time I used my magical powers to grant you a wish?" and then you'll shut up and let him mooch soda off of you and sleep on your couch for another month.
Dr. Thorpe: This is exactly like my friend Jimmy but without the gravy part. But one time he used his powers to go to Costco and buy one of those huge buckets of cream puffs, and for that I am forever in his debt.
Zack: The gravy boat genie will put in a change of mail form to your address and start having his really loud and stupid girlfriend who smokes pot in your bathroom stay over all the time. You'll come home from work and they'll be naked on the couch and your living room will smell like rancid gravy and latex condoms.
Dr. Thorpe: And even if he drinks all my soda, the genie can't be ALL bad. If he's anything like Jimmy, he sits around in the guest room all day watching Dr. Who episodes on his computer. And I'm not saying this for the same of argument, Jimmy is literally in my guest room watching Dr. Who right now as we speak. I don't know exactly when or how this gravy genie came to represent Jimmy to me, but the point is, he did, and now I feel somehow honor-bound to defend him.
Zack: I think you're going too far though. If you tried to kick the gravy genie/Jimmy out of your apartment he will start following you around and acting all creepy like Robert Mitchum in Cape Fear. You'll be trying to watch something on TV and he'll come in and turn to Dr. Who and then light up a cigar and laugh annoyingly loud at everything.
Dr. Thorpe: Wait a minute, this is a little bit creepy. It's like you know Jimmy!
Zack: Do you have any daughters? Specifically young and naive daughters made out of gravy?
Dr. Thorpe: No, but I plan to have young and naive daughters made of gravy one day, God willing.
Zack: God isn't really willing, but with the right magical gravy boat and a mooching genie he can be convinced.
Maria Mitchell is shown holding a telescope to each eye, using them to ogle passing hunks on the street below. OOOGA! Her tongue rolls out like a firehose, her eyes comically bulging through the ends of the telescopes.
The Internet experience of 2014 has been condensed into a single article for your convenience.
Fashion SWAT... the fashion industry is obsessed with impracticality. We know that what designers create was never meant to be worn by the grimy masses, but that doesn't somehow diminish how ridiculous many of these costumes are. Make no mistake, they are costumes, and like a Halloween prize pageant we will turn our discerning gaze on the grievous fashion misfires of Paris, Milan, and New York. We're not pulling any punches, and we're definitely not interested in making any friends. We're Joan Rivers without Melissa Rivers to temper our screeching. We're the Fashion Police in jack boots. We are Fashion SWAT.