Zack:Back then big flamboyant bowties weren't just for conservative commentators in the media.
Dr. Thorpe:"I just felled an Aztec god, and yet my hair is immaculate."
Zack:I've got to say, this guy is a fucking balm after the last few. He may be a little silly but I bet you can still see guys dressed like him walking around some college campuses.
Dr. Thorpe:If you turn him around, I bet he's got leather patches on those elbows.
Zack:He's probably posing at an archaeological dig site.
Dr. Thorpe:You know, I really think he's above all this. Not that he's a snob, it's just that the look on his face says "sure, photograph me for your fashion commercial, but I find this whole fashion thing silly, and I have much more important things on my mind, like the ruins of Quezleotacoquatl."
Zack:Yeah, you know this guy is like Elias Harrington III from the University of Oxford and he just outwitted about 50 Nazis to retrieve some precious Aztec artifact.
Dr. Thorpe:And I bet this cat gets buck on the weekends and trades this outfit in for a leather jacket and a bullwhip. He's Indiana Jones's nephew or something.
Zack:He probably brings a bag of his finds to bars and sets them out on the bar top and examines them trying to attract attention from sophomore girls with more Heineken in them than self-restraint.
Dr. Thorpe:His name is Haspel Jones. That's where the slogan comes from. He drives by on a motorbike and snatches the damsel away from the Nazis, and then he winks and says "nobody does it like Haspel." And then there's a funny scene with John Rhys-Davies serving him some sort of inedible food, and he just laughs it off.
Zack:Every time he goes to a dig he ends up bare-knuckle boxing someone next to a huge propeller. He has the worst workplace safety record imaginable. He's punched at least thirty people into helicopter rotors alone.
Dr. Thorpe:And his bottomless pit track record is simply abysmal. *rimshot*
Zack:We've got to stop doing that. We're going to get a reputation.
Dr. Thorpe:You can't just stop being an incorrigible jokester. It's in the blood.
Zack:Sort of like cerebral palsy only worse.
Dr. Thorpe:Yeah, instead of holding doors open for us, people hate us.
"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.