Zackula: No child picks this costume. They can only be subjected to it.
Dr. Thorpenstein: It's lame enough to choose to be KISS for Halloween, but you truly have to be someone's shitty little brother if you get stuck being the drummer.
Dr. Thorpenstein: It's like when kids played Thundercats and they made the shittiest kid be Orko or whatever that thing was called.
Zackula: I feel like you just caught me in a trap by making me say that.
Dr. Thorpenstein: I can't pretend to be any better, we both make our living by remembering pop culture references that everyone should have forgotten by now. We're like poor versions of the guys who write Family Guy.
Dr. Thorpenstein: Think about this for a second: if we were funnier, we could probably get jobs writing for Family Guy. I'll give you a few minutes to let that sink in, then a few more minutes to look up how to tie a noose.
Zackula: Dave, if we were funnier we would have invented Icanhazcheezburger.com and we'd be getting our dick sucked by lolcat money right now.
Dr. Thorpenstein: If only we had a tiny bit more talent, we could both be giving keynote speeches at this year's ROFLCON alongside Moot and the guy who does that comic about computers.
Zackula: Where's OUR Tucker Max movie?
Dr. Thorpenstein: If we were a little bit better looking, we could be talking heads on some VH1 show about what happened in 1989.
Dr. Thorpenstein: Well, OK, a lot better looking. If you stood either of us next to Brian Posehn, it would be instantly obvious which one belonged on TV.
Levi Johnston finally comes clean about his involvement in the Weinstein scandal and details a disgusting incident that required a green screen.
Why do I keep doing this to myself? The manager's been following me around since the moment I set hoof in this place.
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.