Dr. Thorpe:A lot of people might wonder, since we write about fashion all the time, how we dress ourselves. Well, dear readers, now you know.
Zack:That's Dave on the left and he is visiting me after my chemo. Funny story, all of the hair fell out of my head but my neck beard remained.
Dr. Thorpe:I think that you would have succumbed, had it not been for the loving support of the Purple City Byrd Gang, who visited you every day and kept you moralized through your terrible ordeal with their trilling "brrrrrrrr" calls.
Zack:I actually just bought that shirt because I'm colorblind. I thought it was an American flag shirt. You know, because of 9-11 and whatnot, I thought it was important to clearly identify myself as American.
Dr. Thorpe:Yeah, it's a funny story, originally I bought this Diplomats shirt because I thought it would fool the police into thinking I had diplomatic immunity, so I could expose myself to little girls in the park to my heart's content. And I guess it sort of worked, because I still haven't been caught.
Zack:Similarly, my shirt has allowed me to enter several US embassies in foreign countries, although once inside there were dismayingly few children to expose myself to.
Dr. Thorpe:I wear my Diplomats shoes so that I may tread on snakes in national wildlife reserves with impunity.
Zack:My shirt gives me carte blanche in Purple City, although I'll tell you, Google Maps sure has let me down on that one.
Dr. Thorpe:I remember the "bad old days" when it used to be hard to get a man to spray paint stars and purple ribbons on your jeans without it being a "gay thing."
Zack:That's the purple helix because I got purple runnin' up in my cells and shit. I don't know, maybe that's why I got all this damn cancer, but at least my shirt doesn't look like the Dipset sponsored a NASCAR.
Dr. Thorpe:Well, at least I didn't write DIPSET across my shoes with ketchup. I mean, not that I never did, because we've all done it, but not these particular shoes, at least.
Zack:Yeah, I'm feelin' those shoes. That's like straight Teepee thuggin' mocasins and shit. Like we're gonna run up in the sweat lodge and smoke a giant blunt with the chief.
Dr. Thorpe:I hear that the Native Americans only used Robitussin for medicinal purposes, until the white man stole and corrupted it.
Zack:Ghostfaces came and took they Robotussin and gave them all kinds of crazy ass diseases like Lou Gehrigs and Sickle Cell.
Dr. Thorpe:Yo, what are you talking about Ghostface for, the Dipset is way better than the Wu Tang! You're a disgrace to your shirt.
Zack:What's really good? You know it's Dipset. You know I live it.
Dr. Thorpe:You know the Dipset are the most skilled rappers alive because Juelz Santana holds the world record in rhyming the same word with itself the most times in a single song (38).
Dr. Thorpe:"Back like crack this rapper / you'd be wack to attack this rapper / makin stacks on stacks this rapper / he's the dapperest mack this rapper / you the crappest of crappy rappers / you better not bite this rapper / you might have to fight this rapper," etc. He just goes on like that for four minutes and somewhere about halfway through it somehow gets clever, so fuck the haters!
Zack:Peace out and if ya'll know Juelz tell him to please accept my request through the Make a Wish Foundation.
The first phase of The Olive Garden's cyber rollout will introduce their Neverending Pneumatic Pasta Tube. This works on the same principal as bank drive-thru deposit tubes, but with unfrozen linguini and spaghetti.
Do you remember the crazy clothes and hair of the 1990s? Do you remember Crystal Pepsi and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? Do you remember where you hid the box your mother gave you?
It's still okay to like Ben Stiller, guys.
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.