Zack: "This is not really happening."
Dr. Thorpe: These guys really look like they're resigned to some awful fate. They're gritting their teeth and gathering their courage, and in a second they'll say "well... time to get it over with." And then they'll walk out of their tiger skin tent and the evil cannibal godhead will say "you know, gentlemen, what you stand accused of. You have insulted the volcano, you have manhandled our women, and you have drunk of the sacred spirits. It is time to meet your fate."
Zack: "Now you have two choices. You may either agree to be cast into the volcano or you will be sent into exile for all of your lives to the benighted shores of Australia."
Dr. Thorpe: And so they sit there and consider it for about fifteen minutes.
Zack: "If we agree to go to Australia can we have our clothes back?" "NO! You may join your paisley trousers in the volcano or NOT AT ALL."
Dr. Thorpe: "Do we both have to choose the same thing?"
Zack: "Thom, I fear I must go, I did not spend all this time developing these gills on my thorax just to have my perfect body destroyed by magma." "Then it is farewell, Gewain, for I know of dreadful things such as the hoppy man and the black man that populate the wild deserts of Australia and I will not subject myself to them. It is the fires of Hades for me."
Dr. Thorpe: And so Thom is cast into the volcano, and he ricochets off some pointy rocks, and, miraculously, he lands on a pleasantly warm slab of floating stone. And he hears a voice say "hey! I thought I was alone down here. My name is Paul! I've been living off moths and steam for about fifteen years now! My arms and legs don't work so well anymore, but I'm sure we can be good friends and have some really amazing conversations!"
Zack: I think if that guy found himself trapped on a stone block with Paul he would pitch himself into the lava inside five minutes. I mean, normally Paul won't make you kill yourself because you have a life to look forward to, but when the only life you've got is more time with Paul and your means of death are right there it's hard not to choose the easy way out.
Dr. Thorpe: Yeah. If the choice was between Paul or Australia or the volcano, the obvious choice would be the volcano.
Zack: "I fashioned this prostate clamp out of caldera moss. All you need to do is lay back and..."
Dr. Thorpe: (screaming and sizzling noises)
Donald Trump is constantly being compared to infamous political figures and villains from movies. Finally, the correct comparison is here.
Now that Bob Dylan has won the Nobel Prize in literature, hopefully these other great musicians will win the award in the future.
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.