Appearing In: Final Fantasy X (PS2)
Thanks: Dr Zaius
Zack:This image is almost overwhelming. It's like someone hand-designed a costume to be so ridiculous that it would overpower us. I don't even know what to call most of the garments he is wearing. A frontless quarter shirt? Leather overhalfs? A third of pants?
Dr. Thorpe:I think the person who designed him just looked at stupid teenagers for a while and wrote down all the things that might piss you off about their clothes. Big nu-metal shorts? Check. Stupid wallet chain that's not connected to anything? Check. One pant-leg rolled up? Rubber goth corset? Check. He's a mixed-media idiot. He combines idiocy from all forms of idiot.
Zack:Yeah, I think he even has a tribal tattoo or some sort of graffiti tag on his pants. With team uniforms like this it's no wonder that Blitzball never quite took off in the United States. That was Vince McMahon's vanity sports league, wasn't it? The one where they trash talked and then swam around for hours without taking a breath?
Dr. Thorpe:It would do Vince McMahon some good to stop breathing for a few hours.
Zack:At least now we know what Traylor Howard did after leaving the two guys behind at the pizza place and before moving on to Monk. I'm surprised she could find work after this frankly.
Dr. Thorpe:Ouch, a Traylor Howard snap, that's going to knock 'em dead!
Zack:Newsgroups are already filling up with angry messages.
Dr. Thorpe:In a way, it's hard to judge Final Fantasy characters against any objective standard. You just have to take them on their own terms. It's a well-established fact that the artists who work on those games are perverse halfwits with nothing but contempt for aesthetic beauty.
Zack:I don't think that should in any way absolve Tidus of particular blame for his costume. We still execute the retarded for first degree murder in this country. I see no reason to excuse greater crimes using the same logic.
Dr. Thorpe:Is there any avenue in the legal system through which we can pursue the death penalty for fictional characters?
Zack:Not since FDR got a bug up his crippled ass about Hitler and the good work he was doing. I'm pretty sure Himmler personally strangled Jud Süß with a leather belt.
Dr. Thorpe:You're lucky FDR doesn't have the kind of internet following of creepy nerds that Traylor Howard has.
Zack:I'll still probably get people from Democratic Underground sending me death threats, but none of those liberal pussies own guns anyway.
Dr. Thorpe:Actually, I just made that part earlier up, I have no idea whether or not Traylor Howard has a creepy internet following. I just assume that every actress has one.
Zack:That's a safe guess. That's the sole reason Yahoo groups exist. "TRADE PICTURES OF TRAYLOR HOWARD'S FEET."
Zack:"I DREW THIS OF WHAT I THINK TRAYLOR WOULD LOOK LIKE IF I FORCE FED HER CAKE."
Zack:"HERE SHE IS DISAPPEARING INTO A HUMANOID BIRD'S VAGINA."
Dr. Thorpe:Somewhere, on some corner of the internet, there is a crude drawing of her dressed as Tidus. It's inevitable.
Zack:As H.P. Lovecraft so eloquently said in the Colour Out of Space: "There are hoary eldritch things ageless and undying, indescribable altars of basalt with non-Euclidian geometry, but worst of all, beyond the threshold of man's most blasphemous of sciences is Traylor Howard cosplaying Tidus." Man that guy could write!
The Upper Kitchen Cabinet Where Your Roommate Keeps His Food: You’ll 'need the footstool' to reach your roommate’s 'fine selection' of 'stale cereal,' but he'll never notice if 'only a little is missing from each box.' Feel less guilty by reminding yourself that Jeff 'acts weird around your girlfriend,' and always 'asks about her.' What a 'creep.'
This is the crown jewel of my erotic lamp collection, and a must-have for any serious pleasure lamp collector.
This ain't your daddy's globe...! .... or is it?!
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.