Zack: This is what passes for a "hot TA" at your average American community college these days. They used to look like models in belly shirts. Now they look like powdered sugar donuts in loose-fitting sweaters.
Dr. Thorpe: She's poised to karate chop a report on the dangers of gravy bongs.
Zack: I think she's listening to her fingers get fatter. You know, they plump up when they cook.
Dr. Thorpe: See those rubber bands on her wrist? Those are a psychological conditioning tool. She has to snap one of those whenever she thinks about dignity.
Zack: Those tiny green organs at the top of her nose allow her to sense Häagen-Dazs through walls.
Dr. Thorpe: Boy, vertical stripes really are slimming. Just looking at this picture, I feel ten pounds lighter.
Zack: Vertical stripes don't fool wicker chairs. They are a harsh judge.
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
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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.