Dr. Thorpenstein: Hey, can you think of any jokes that won't get us arrested?
Zackula: It's too late. We just got added to all of the worst lists.
Dr. Thorpenstein: Now I have to order a big magnet to wipe my hard drive. Those images are in my cache forever.
Zackula: This is what "concerned parents" are worried about every time Barbie ups the ante with her slutty outfits.
Dr. Thorpenstein: If your daughter is 16 and tries to leave the house in essentially a prostitute costume, you're supposed to stop her and go "you're not leaving the house like that, young lady." But what if she's 8? Do you just let it slide, or what?
Dr. Thorpenstein: I think that dilemma is exactly why both these costumes are on clearance.
Zackula: It's like the inverse of the babies running around naked problem white trash families have to deal with. When does the naked baby rolling around in the front yard become a police issue?
Dr. Thorpenstein: When it's in your yard.
Zackula: That's what shotguns and dogs are for.
Zackula: Conceal carry in case I'm doing yardwork and need to take down an errant tot.
Dr. Thorpenstein: I think shooting a nude child, regardless of the circumstances, is legal in Texas.
Zackula: Lonestar state don't abide nudity. Baby is no excuse for ignoring God's Laws.
Dr. Thorpenstein: In California, we have all these stupid rules about how it can't have its back turned to you or else it's murder or something.
Zackula: You have to prove intent to cavort nude. If it's retreating you can't shoot.
Dr. Thorpenstein: In Detroit, though... nude babies shoot you.
Zackula: Forget about it Dave, it's Babytown.
Sir Mix-a-Lot's classic follow up to "Baby Got Back" has serious unintended consequences.
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
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.