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Dr. Thorpe: Wow, honestly, I would hang this one on my wall with pride.
Zack: Yeah, I'm beginning to see the light of what you said earlier about porn fan art evolving into modern classics.
Dr. Thorpe: This is just one of those brutal, in-your-face artistic statements, you know? It reminds me of Frida Kahlo or something.
Zack: "Huh-huh, burn this bed, butt-munch." You can almost experience the frenzied pleasure of Beavis, and Butthead is as focused as his thought-processes are alien to us.
Dr. Thorpe: You know, there are some really impressive details in this. You might think "how did Beavis take his shorts off without taking off his shoes," but I think that we can only conclude that his shoes were left on for deliberate erotic effect.
Zack: There is quite a subtext to this picture. Beavis, a fictional character, is himself portraying the fictional character of Cornholio during sex. I take this as a bold statement about the barriers we often put up during even the most intimate moments, that to reveal ourselves and our urges even when all other defenses seem lowered is impossible.
Dr. Thorpe: Where did you find this image, Zack? I intend to purchase this piece. I think it would be a sound investment.
Zack: This artist actually did several pictures like this for different TV shows. Maybe we could contact the Guggenheim and see if they would be interested in a show.
Dr. Thorpe: Yeah, if they'll let Matthew Barney cover the place in Vaseline and run around naked for four hours, I don't see why they wouldn't accept this painting.
Zack: I think what really makes this picture great is that the woman is a realistic human being. She has seemingly been transported from our world to theirs.
Dr. Thorpe: She has a really intense sort of listlessness about her, which is really masterfully captured. This guy isn't some TV pervert fan artist, this guy is a serious artist who just happens to work in the genre of TV characters fucking.
Zack: I hate to bring this up again, but I think this guy could do something truly amazing with the MC Hammer cartoon.
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
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
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.