Zack: This thing seems like it should be about three inches long, webbed into a bush somewhere and making a clicking sound.
Dr. Thorpe: And, god, as if it weren't hard enough to keep from licking babies to begin with.
Zack: When you dress a baby this small up in a costume you're just putting up new drapes or something. It's scenery.
Dr. Thorpe: This thing is just asking for trouble. The kind of trouble where Dave goes back to jail.
Zack: I can just imagine a really good party gets going and while the parents are talking with their friends the dog is dragging the baby around the kitchen floor. "Honey, where did you leave Pacey?" And all they find are some bloody sprinkles and bits of cone around the dog house.
Dr. Thorpe: And they would probably sue the costume company into oblivion because their dehumanizing costume made them forget that their baby was a living thing.
Zack: God forbid that company start making slot machine baby costumes. They might as well start cutting class action payout checks before the damn thing even hits shelves. Hundreds of babies with torn off arms and abdomens full of plastic coins.
Dr. Thorpe: Yeah, that would be almost as bad as that beanbag chair costume my parents put me in when I was a baby.
Zack: The only safe baby costume is just a bigger baby. So you remember that it's a baby, but maybe you're also a little afraid of it. Like when grandpa used to hug you a little too long.
Dr. Thorpe: I think good baby costumes would integrate into the costumes of the parents, so they wouldn't be forgotten. Like maybe a "Total Recall" costume, where the baby is that little psychic midget sticking out of your belly.
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This isn't about harassment. It's about ethics in cat journalism.
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.