Dr. Thorpe:Okay, no complaints about this. This cat is ultra-mod.
Zack:He looks like he's playing an instrument from a science fiction movie.
Dr. Thorpe:That's actually a sitar. You know, the thing that ruined the Beatles.
Zack:And made Ravi Shankar.
Dr. Thorpe:Yeah, Ravi's alright, but think of all the horror the sitar has wrought. Kula Shaker, anyone?
Zack:Isn't that an opium pipe? Odd choice.
Dr. Thorpe:He's a man of the world. The opium feeds his mellow sophistication. The sunglasses hide the fact that his pupils are the size of dimes.
Zack:Somehow I think this guy would end up with a knife in his kidney if he walked into most of the dens in Shanghai.
Dr. Thorpe:No way. He's the owner.
Zack:He sees a red door and he wants it painted black.
Dr. Thorpe:Actually, here's something bad I can say of this guy: the Londoner holding an Indian instrument and looking smug reeks of arrogant British imperialism. I have conquered your nation and now I have conquered fashion."
Zack:What really undermines his hep catness is the company's motto. "Hornes: Where a man can toot his own trumpet."
Dr. Thorpe:Yeah, the motto sounds like it's from a carpet store in New Jersey. I think a rookie copywriter added that motto without asking and was promptly fired.
Zack:Or thrown into a bog. Either way, throats were slit.
Dr. Thorpe:Slit by the frighteningly calm sitar-pimp pictured here, no doubt.
Zack:Hornes ships these guys out by the hundreds to play for the amusement of MANATCA.
Dr. Thorpe:I think it sounds more menacing if we call it "The MANATCA." Makes it sound more like the evil criminal syndicate it is.
Zack:They know a hundred ways to kill with a collar alone.
Dr. Thorpe:Later defeated by the ruthless Etro in the 1985 Beardocaust.
Zack:Who knew tying weights into a beard could turn it into a deadly weapon? Etro, that's who.
Dr. Thorpe:Many Etro footsoldiers were killed by the razor sharp collars of The MANATCA though, surely.
Zack:I'm sure the bog runneth over on that red day.
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.