Dr. Thorpe:Oh man, look at the terrifying mongoloid in the foreground. He looks like the villain from The Karate Kid or something. "NO MERCY SIR!"
Zack:I can't even tell if he has pant legs.
Dr. Thorpe:The red-pajamas-by-the-pool look is fucking audacious though, I gotta hand it to him. It's hard to swim in culottes.
Zack:I think they're about to fight over that tendony woman-thing.
Dr. Thorpe:Nah, look at her. She's not going to choose. I don't think the guy in red is even in the foreground. He's just a hulking giant.
Zack:Is it just me or does that woman look awfully old to be hanging out with boys that age?
Dr. Thorpe:That's just one of the levels on which this picture is creepy.
Zack:It really gets creepy when you read the side bar text and realize that they're all posed corpses.
Dr. Thorpe:The other level is imagining the three of them doing what they're about five minutes from doing in this photo. "Tonight - Drive Her Wild!" Presumably that's a command to both of those guys.
Zack:I think the guy on the left is going to be doing a karate kick, the guy on the right is going to be cleaning a pool or doing push-ups, and the woman is still going to be in that exact position, smiling as she stares at the sun.
Dr. Thorpe:Yeah, look at how tanned her face is. That's a face of a woman who's been trying in vain to understand the majesty of the sun but getting no further than hour-long staring contests with it.
Zack:Her field of vision consists of peripheral images and a giant glowing after-image of the sun.
Dr. Thorpe:The little guy's belly hair makes his navel look like a creepy pantomime eye.
Zack:He is a harlequin los stomachos.
Dr. Thorpe:Which is why she's smiling even as she's about to be double-teamed by a giant mental defective and a musclebound homunculus.
Zack:I like how the color is so depressing in the picture. It takes real talent as a photographer to make Malibu look like a smog day in Essex.
Dr. Thorpe:It also takes a really great photographer to get that perfect shot where the guy in red is clearly going "so when are you going to take the picture?"
Sometimes I dream that I'm sitting in the back of the defunct Weinermobile as it careens driverless down the highway. At first I thought this was symbolic of the powerlessness I feel in life, but then I realized it's actually the Weinermobile's dream of being able to drive again.
Three years ago, when we were burying my uncle, Cleaver and some gross lady dog (Solstice???) showed up at the cemetery and starting going at it really loudly. It ruined everything and we had to have a "re-do" the next day and it cost a fortune. I've hated him ever since for that.
Ignore the hype. Find out how these games will likely go right or wrong.
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.