Zackula: Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Ahhh what the hell?
Dr. Thorpenstein: I'd be way more down with a Sexy Michael Keaton costume.
Zackula: I don't think I've seen anyone wearing a Beetlejuice costume in the last decade, let alone a sexy babe wearing one to be sexy.
Zackula: Did they focus group it with retro bloggers or throw a dart in a video store from 1991?
Dr. Thorpenstein: Like the Grinch, I think this was a preeeeeetty late night at the sexy Halloween costume company think tank.
Zackula: Maybe there's a costume designer auteur, ignoring the trends and the sales figures, poring over 1980s cult classic movies, transforming semi-obscure characters into something a woman can wear to pick up guys.
Zackula: He goes into a creative fugue, scrawling equations all over, pasting print-outs of screenshots over windows, madness everywhere until...finally...a Vitruvian sketch of Clarence Boddicker in a g-string.
Zackula: "It says 'Bitches Leave' on the skirt so people know what it is."
Dr. Thorpenstein: Or maybe it's just a low-level costume company drone given the thankless task of snapping up all the cheap movie licenses to keep their smaller competitors from scoring an unexpected hit.
Dr. Thorpenstein: "Maaannn... another long night designing Sexy Drop Dead Fred just so those clowns at HalloQueen can't scoop it up."
Zackula: "Hi, yes, I am calling from Costume Solutions. I was wondering if Paramount would be interested in licensing the character of Hollywood Montrose...you aren't? Ah, I see, 3D reboot of Mannequin. Well, if you change your mind, I have already mapped out how to turn a lopsided fade and neon cat eye glasses into lingerie."
Dr. Thorpenstein: "Hello, Fox? Hi, this is Rick again. I just wanted to know if you'd be interested in licensing Bernie from Weekend at B-- oh, really? They did? Well, thanks all the same. Bye. ....FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCKING HALLOQUEEN ASSHOLES, I SWEAR TO GOD!"
Sometimes I dream that I'm sitting in the back of the defunct Weinermobile as it careens driverless down the highway. At first I thought this was symbolic of the powerlessness I feel in life, but then I realized it's actually the Weinermobile's dream of being able to drive again.
Three years ago, when we were burying my uncle, Cleaver and some gross lady dog (Solstice???) showed up at the cemetery and starting going at it really loudly. It ruined everything and we had to have a "re-do" the next day and it cost a fortune. I've hated him ever since for that.
Ignore the hype. Find out how these games will likely go right or wrong.
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.