Low-Rise Lace-Up Suede Jean
Dr. Thorpe:This guy looks shocked, like a car just drove by him and a hand reached out and snatched his shirt right off him. "What the fuck!?" But he doesn't care that much, because it just means he gets to show off his International Physique.
Zack:I'm pretty sure this is the guy I usually played in Final Fight.
Dr. Thorpe:He must be a Final Fight character, because who else walks down the street in just shoes and pants? He's obviously going to beat up a bunch of identical guys with mohawks now.
Zack:When you have muscle definition like that you can get away with wearing nothing but doc martens and bard pants. He probably has to carry around a special license. "ID please. Okay, 2% body fat, carry on I guess. Just stay away from the preschool."
Dr. Thorpe:Yeah, and he can go into stores that say "No shirt, no shoes, no service" and they'll let it slide, because those abs are basically a shirt.
Zack:The entire front of his chest unsnaps and removes so it doesn't hurt when he tries to sleep on his stomach.
Dr. Thorpe:I bet he always has to coat layers of liquid latex over his arms because the veins are always sneaking outside his skin.
Zack: They're like a briar patch. He'll be doing some really intense sets of curls in the gym and suddenly notice that there is a dog and someone's sweater hanging from his circulatory system.
Dr. Thorpe:I have all these weird ideas of what it must be like to be in shape, because I pretty much look like a big plastic bag full of frozen shrimp.
Zack:If that's what you look like then I look like an unwrapped tube of that pre-made cookie dough that got rolled in the clippings on the floor of a barbershop.
Dr. Thorpe:That's the way I like it though. What's more fun, going to the gym for six hours a day, then the tanning beds, then the International Male photo shoot, or just sitting on your ass all day making fun of jerks who take care of themselves?
Zack:I think if I had muscles like that I would just walk around performing feats of strength all day. Like I would pull down a tree and bend a lamp post or something.
Dr. Thorpe:Yeah, maybe carry a few old women across the road.
Zack:I'd be in jail by mid-morning on my first day. But hey, I could just bend the bars and escape!
Dr. Thorpe:You might want to stick around there, I hear prison is a great place to sculpt your body. And then your feats of strength could involve raping new guys.
Zack:Yeah, sculpt your body, rape dudes, and get crude tattoos of swastikas. That's pretty much my to-do list every day as it is. I guess I should go knock over a bank and then when I get out of prison and I'm cut like a diamond I can go back and literally knock over the bank. "HAAAARRRGGH TAKE THAT DYE PACKS!"
Dr. Thorpe:Hey, let's be fair, some of those swastika tattoos aren't too crude at all.
Zack:Maybe these pants are like the purple jean shorts the Hulk wears. Like this dude was just some skinny IT guy or something and then a woman spilled coffee on him at Starbucks and his suede jacket and pre-faded Ramones shirt exploded and this is all that's left.
Dr. Thorpe:Jesus, the crotch of those pants looks way too complicated. It looks like an H.R. Geiger painting, with all those useless tubes and gears and stuff.
Zack:If you look close enough you can see a dead baby falling out of a giant mechanical ass.
"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.