Dr. Thorpenstein: He comes up to cut your head off with that disc thing, maybe just clown around a little and do a little dance or whatever. He'd probably be like "oh, this guy's no trophy, he's just a normal guy, sort of."
Zackula: The trick with the Predator is you need to get rid of your guns. Guns are a symbol of the power and the Predator, well, he don want nuttin' to do wit ya Babylon, downpresser man.
Dr. Thorpenstein: Yeah, maybe offer him a little grass and put on a Congos album, he'll chill right out.
Zackula: I and I want some candy. Waant some candy? Wa-want sommmme caaaandy?
Zackula: I want to put out there that Predator 2 is way under-appreciated. Think about the possible sequels that could have been made for Predator. They would have been shoddy imitations. At least Predator 2 expanded the Predator reality and thanks to Predator 2 we have all the Aliens vs. Predator mo--wait, where did I start this? I mean FUCK Predator 2.
Dr. Thorpenstein: Wait, what? Aliens vs... are you just talking about the Aliens movies? I don't get it. Those are totally unrelated moves.
Dr. Thorpenstein: The Predator is an alien, if that's what you're thinking, but Alien was a completely separate franchise.
Zackula: Alas, like a bellybutton connects us to our mothers, Predator 2 connects Aliens and Predators. It is the Predator bellybutton.
Dr. Thorpenstein: Oh man, think about how cute a baby Predator would be. Awwww.
Zackula: I wonder if they're born wearing a full-body fishnet.
Dr. Thorpenstein: I bet they have adorable little Coolio hair before their dreads get super natty.
Zackula: Predator toys are a lot like human toys but they all have detachable heads and spinal columns.
Zackula: It would seem to go against their code to take trophies from defenseless toys, but they are serious choking hazards so it's considered fair.
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
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
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.