Zack:Ritmo Traicion y Mullet. Actually that's like some sort of hyper-mullet. Turbo mullet, maybe. The Quantum Mullet.
Dr. Thorpe:The story of one man's quest to find the psychopath who left burning dog poo on his porch.
Zack:This would be an example of a movie where it might have been a good idea to go for an incoherent and overly-complicated artistic rendering for the cover.
Dr. Thorpe:They could have spruced it up with a picture of a man in a rabbit suit getting crushed between two gigantic golden cogs while a naked woman in a samurai mask laughs with glee. It might not stick to the story one hundred percent, but it would really capture the spirit of it.
Zack:A woman in tattered clothing suspended by a golden chain above a gigantic metal face while two shirtless men fight each other with swords. Maybe with a huge bazooka and an explosion in the background. With an Indian flying a jet fighter.
Dr. Thorpe:Yeah, or let's say a huge evil face made out out of smoke coming out of an erupting volcano in the background, and in the foreground there's a woman getting her shirt torn off by a metal dinosaur.
Zack:Or like a big crowd of people in skeleton suits in the background and a cyclops is playing a guitar in the foreground and it is shooting fire and burning off the bandages of a mummy so that you can see it's a naked woman underneath. And her boobs are sort of melting.
Dr. Thorpe:That might be going a little bit over the top, we might want something a little more subdued, a like a buxom angel in sheer lingerie wrestling a gigantic flaming cobra on top of a spaceship that's about to crash into the sun.
Zack:Okay, get this, how about a dude made out of sausages and he's shooting a machinegun up into the air and he's wearing a leather jacket with Xs for each time he runs his casings over a saucer-sized areola and he's standing in Las Vegas and there are drugs flying out of the top of his head while a femandroid cowers at his side and a gang of ninjas poses in the background while a helicopter flies past and a woman in a trampy outfit is knocking on his groin while another woman with a puff of stringy black hair is curled at his feet with her throat slashed open by a gigantic metal hippie wig.
Dr. Thorpe:If that's a reference to something, I guess I don't get it.
Zack:I'd see that if they had a part with snakes on an airplane or something. I never saw such a premise!
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.