Dr. Thorpe: The guy in the front has his pants on backwards. You would think that the photographer would have noticed.
Zack: They are all being very courteous to the topless woman in the background, but you can tell that the guy in the middle is scheming. They even dressed him in black so you know he is the evil one.
Dr. Thorpe: I think the guy in the middle is thinking "well, they invited me to a bellbottoms party, but I had no idea it would be this kind of bellbottoms party." He got there and there were half-nude women and shirtless, shoeless guys. He's just not sure he fits in.
Zack: It's a fact: If you wear bellbottoms you tuck left. I wonder if the photographer had to arrange that. "No, no, Thud Mancake, you need to match Ripple Beefwell."
Dr. Thorpe: The guy on the left is the shit-head fratboy type, I think. Somebody just rode by on a bicycle and yelled a comment about his idiotic hat, and he just smiles and yells "yeah dude! party!" because he doesn't know he's being made fun of.
Zack: Yeah, that dude definitely takes everything as a vague compliment and further encouragement for his buffoonery.
Dr. Thorpe: And the guy in the middle is thinking "oh no, did I remember to point my junk the right way?"
Zack: If only we had one of those expensive government computers that can enhance a Polaroid to read a matchbook in the background. Then we would know with certainty that his junk is, in fact, facing junk north .
Dr. Thorpe: Oh, don't kid yourself. If you had one of those, the first think you'd do is rotate the image around to see if you could get a look at some boob.
Zack: Stoop shooting holes in my homosexual banter!
Dr. Thorpe: Can't you ever talk about anything but shooting holes in homosexuals, you gaybashing bigot?
Zack: Honestly in this picture I was thinking more of driving over all of them since they're lined up so neatly like that. Do gays fall under the racial holy war umbrella? Because I think it would be pretty awesome to drive really fast at these guys in a jeep and then jump out right as it's about to hit them and yell RAHOWA! I think that guy in the foreground is a fucking 'kimo anyway and they definitely ain't white.
Dr. Thorpe: Well, they're white, but they're probably tanned enough that we could safely call them "swarthy." But really, the battle against the gay menace is even more urgent and divinely mandated than the one against the swarthy races.
Zack: That's true. The racial holy war we just sort of have Haley Barbour and the CCC on our side but for this one we've got the entire power of almighty god, which is pretty much not much but you know what it's the thought that counts. Moral support, you know?
Dr. Thorpe: Yeah, God means well, but he can't even keep atheist children out of our schools.
Zack: He's really let himself go since the plagues of locusts and magic missile days.
Dr. Thorpe: Ever since he got level-drained by that vampire in the dungeon of Brakkanor he just hasn't been able to cast high-level spells as effectively.
I have raised over $300 participating in quilting bees for the American Quilting Bee Society so I think I deserve at least seven minutes of your time.
Ernest Cline, writer of Ready Player One, shares his newest poem.
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.