Dr. Thorpenstein: It's pretty amazing to me that movies manage to make kids scary, because kids aren't scary at all in real life. Maybe having them is scary, but not matter how creepy a little girl was, you could probably knock her out with one swift elbow.
Zackula: Especially kids in a well. They're the biggest wusses of all.
Dr. Thorpenstein: Yeah, if they're stuck in a well, half your problem is already solved (the half where you throw them in a well).
Zackula: At least the ring girl was a courteous movie monster. She didn't just kill you, she gave you some options. The options didn't work and didn't make sense, but at least they were there.
Dr. Thorpenstein: Wait, I think I just figured it out: it's scary because if an evil little girl crawls out of your TV to kill you in some kind of nonspecific way, there's pretty much nothing you can do about it. You can just bust her up with a shovel, because then you have a dead little girl in your house.
Dr. Thorpenstein: You can't just run away and call the cops and say "there's a little girl in my house," because then they'd just start asking questions about why there's a little girl in your house, and the TV thing is a bit of a stretch.
Dr. Thorpenstein: It's sort of like the nanny complex in reverse too. Like instead of the government or whatever watching your TV habits there's a creepy little girl. She knows what you watch late at night. And if she pops out and catches you watching Gia your crime is going to be doubled.
Zackula: "I swear officer, I had no idea an evil ghost child was watching me. I was just in my house minding my own business and she came out of the TV."
Zackula: That's a masturbation panic.
Dr. Thorpenstein: I have a good idea, actually: build a well in front of your TV. Then the little girl will just endlessly cycle through.
Zackula: Let Mario deal with her.
Dr. Thorpenstein: Mr. Hoskins, you expect us to believe a little girl just fell into your lap on the set of a video game movie? You're going away for a long time, buddy.
Dr. Thorpenstein: I think I just found the bellybutton connecting the Bob Hoskins universe to the little girl franchise.
Zackula: Might as well let the tweens have a crack at the predators.
Zackula: Since the aliens haven't accomplished shit.
Zackula: What is cockney rhyming slang for "Want some candy?"
Zackula: Punt scum Mandy. Puuuuunt scum maaaaandy? *animal sounds and clicks*
Zackula: Haha I'm down the rabbit hole on this one.
Dr. Thorpenstein: hahaha
Dr. Thorpenstein: I think I'm checkmated.
Dr. Thorpenstein: I have no legal moves from that.
Zackula: The Hoskins Gambit.
Dr. Thorpenstein: I guess introducing the Bob Hoskins brick wall was a sure way to kill this one.
Zackula: I'll take some of the blame. I fought against the Mario joke, but I was weak.
Zackula: Why don't we do our opening comments and I'll edit this part into some semblance of an ending.
Dr. Thorpenstein: I think we should just put this part of the conversation into the article and end with it
Zackula: I'm totally down with everyone witnessing my shame.
Hows about you, me, and five uncomfortable minutes in my basement apartment next to the dusty Christmas tree that's still up from my last visit with my estranged children.
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 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.