Dr. Thorpenstein: It's kind of sad that the actual thing is way funnier than the costume of the thing, and the actual thing is not really all that funny.
Zackula: Has your child been clamoring to dress up as a prank device from the 1920s? Good news...
Dr. Thorpenstein: The illustration on the front looks like a page from a Tijuana Bible.
Dr. Thorpenstein: Popeye and Charles Lindbergh are going to come out and have sex with her in the next panel.
Zackula: All our filthy cartoons are now manufactured in China. We'll have to settle for a Chengdu Bible where a donkey and a woman work to make iPods and are rewarded with an additional male baby.
Dr. Thorpenstein: The kid himself looks like he's going Ha-cha-cha-cha-chaaaa, like Jimmy Durante (who is also going to jump out and have sex with the lady on the front).
Zackula: He's a regular Katzenjammer Kid, which, coincidentally, used whoopee cushions from time to time. And also did mouth-sex with farty ladies in Tijuana Bibles.
Dr. Thorpenstein: In eighty years, America's children will be dressing up as our weird porn for Halloween.
Zackula: Our weird porn is so weird it's boring. Like pregnant ladies smoking and guys in singlets popping balloons with their bellies. That sort of thing happened out on the street 50 years ago. Constantly.
Zackula: Yes, Gumshoe was a game grounded in historical fact.
Dr. Thorpenstein: This is my son, Zysbull, who has a weird name because he's from the future. He's dressed like a sybian orgasm machine.
Zackula: And yet, after all these years, poor Carl Paladino gets maligned for a little horse fucking video. I believe horse fucking has been around for as long as fucking and horses.
Dr. Thorpenstein: Yeah, you could pretty much dress your kid up like a guy fucking a horse today and not get in trouble.
Zackula: And beneath the sheer fabric of the costume...
How can we better be sold to by multinational corporations?
They told us to stop playing videogames on a school night. If only we'd ignored them.
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.