Dr. Thorpe:Question: How many crayons do have I?
Zack:This guy definitely knows some things about crayons that he's not telling. Either that or he just got back from that "Fucking in Space" project in the background.
Dr. Thorpe:Yeah, he looks like he just got fucked in space and he's absolutely dying to tell us but he swore he wouldn't. He's got that "Guess what? ...nothing! Tee hee!" look.
Zack:"So yeah, crayons, heh, there are a lot of different...you know what, I can't do this, I'm heading back over to the fucking in space experiment."
Dr. Thorpe:Are you sure that's an experiment? It might just be your run-of-the-mill fucking in space ticket booth. They're all over the place in big cities. You pay your twenty bucks, you break out of the ionosphere to where prostitution is legal, you get banged in zero gravity, and you're back home in half an hour. Or if you pay fifty bucks, they take you out to the exosphere, where anything is legal... and life is cheap!
Zack:"Yeah, so I dropped a couple grand on a ticket out to a La Grange point and they let me choke a girl while a baboon screwed me." What happens in orbit, stays in orbit, literally and forever.
Dr. Thorpe:"That's nothing, I paid ten thousand dollars to go through a wormhole and fuck myself as a little kid."
Zack:"For 20k you can go all the way back and fuck your mom, then stop on the way back and fuck yourself only you're the dad now. So yeah, the title of my project is Crayons Galore..."
Dr. Thorpe:"If you're wondering why I've got this look on my face, it's because I just sold my parents' Acura and used the money to travel through a tear in the fabric of space and suck off a hypersexual living crayon from the sixteenth dimension."
Zack:"I finally feel like I know the meaning of the word 'galore'. I will never use it so casually again. Those 16th dimensional crayons live hard, die hard and play hard, and you can't understand what they mean by galore until your mouth is full of Burnt Umber."
Dr. Thorpe:"Plus they sold me this wicked PrintShop template with crayons around the border. You can't tell in the third dimension, but they're fucking each other with their minds."
Zack:"Wait until you see my next crayon newsletter. It's like Caligula was a crayon and also a horse was a crayon."
Dr. Thorpe:And then he just goes "Mmm hmm" like the guy from Sling Blade.
Evil Cooper and Chechen President Ramzan Kadyrov have both been on a rampage, but who did what?
"Your left eye," the optometrist casually explained while blasting my face with a blue laser at point blank range, "is farsighted and shaped like an eyeball. The other eye is nearsighted and shaped like a football. Not even a good football."
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.