Zackula: Baaaaaaarrfff! I bet you almost forgot we existed! But we do exist and we are proving it with a terrifying tour of titillating togs!
Dr. Thorpenstein: BooOOooOooo! Dare you enter the haunted mansion of Fashion SWAT's Scareoween Ghoultacular? You should have run when you had the chance, dear child... for Zackula and Dr. Thorpenstein's Monster are determined to harm your eyes with the ghastly horrors of the unclad female form!
Zackula: Thwwaaaack! Get a grip on our ghoulish guignol of gynecological get-ups! It's time for Halloween SWAT!
Dr. Thorpenstein: Ooh, I am going to steal your wiener from under the tree. Your Christmas will be ruined... with sex.
Zackula: I know when I see the slouching oddbody of the Grinch I think, "How can this dress make his hot boobs more prominent?"
Zackula: Although she isn't so much dressed as the Grinch as someone who killed the Grinch.
Dr. Thorpenstein: Ha ha ha, I will tell you what, buddy... THOSE things aren't three sizes too small!
Zackula: Dr. Seuss never really accounted for concealed carry in any of his stories. Whoville would be a lot more polite if everyone was packing heat.
Zackula: "I see you trying to steal my neighbor's Christmas. I am getting my AR-15 and coming out there no matter what the 911 lady says."
Dr. Thorpenstein: Don't you think The Grinch, being a clear parody of the conservative mind, is the one who would be carrying? He probably just would have had a way easier time stealing Christmas.
Zackula: No way is the Grinch Republican. He hates Christmas. He is more like an atheist trying to eliminate Christmas.
Dr. Thorpenstein: He heads up the Mt. Crumpit branch of the ACLU.
Zackula: Yertle the Turtle more accurately represents the entitlement of the right wing oligarchs and their self-destructive quest for power at the expense of turtles.
Zackula: A turtle is just way harder to make sexy than the Grinch.
Dr. Thorpenstein: Yeah, I have to say, they really pulled off the sexiness of this Grinch. I've never seen a sexier children's antagonist of joy.
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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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.