Paintbrush Silk Shirts
Dr. Thorpe:Nothing compliments a greasy hairdo like a billowing, shiny Picasso shirt.
Zack:This is the kind of shirt a part-time magician would wear to a kid's birthday party. The kids would be wanting power rangers and they get this dude pouring milk into a hat.
Dr. Thorpe:Yeah, and even the little kids would be like "his tricks are okay, but that shirt is just a little much."
Zack:Some would just stare transfixed for several minutes and then, one after another, the sobbing would start.
Dr. Thorpe:Yeah, he's definitely a little creepy even aside from the shirt. The look on his face dares me to get into a doomed staring contest with a photograph. Goddammit, I always laugh first!
Zack:It's a battle of the minds you can't hope to win. It's like trying to have sex with your girlfriend while your dog is staring at you.
Dr. Thorpe:Yes, except without the delightful erotic possibilities.
Zack:Man, a pleated black skirt with a shirt like that? These guys really are international.
Dr. Thorpe:I think by "international" a lot of the time they just mean "swarthy."
Zack:I was going to make some gay comment but honestly I don't think gay people wear clothes like this outside of 80s sitcoms. Carson Kressley would find the ultimate poet shirt and the magician shirt in some straight guy's closet and he would pretend to gag or ask for lighter fluid.
Dr. Thorpe:Whereas Bronson Pinchot would find it in his own closet and say "yes!"
Zack: Coosin, thass ree-dic-oolous
Dr. Thorpe:You know, I always wanted to make a Halloween costume kind of like those half man-half woman costumes where your left side is in a dress and your right side is in a tuxedo, except that my left side would be Paul Reiser and my right side would be Greg Evigan, so I'd be the dual "My Two Dads" man. And this shirt is PERFECT for the Greg Evigan side.
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.