Zack: Prove it.
Dave: He strikes me as the kind of guy who'd die for you and you'd never even know it. "Oh shit, did you hear that big weird guy killed himself and they found pictures of you all over his room and he left this really long note about how he would love you forever even though you left him with no choice but to kill himself?" And you'd be like, "wait, which guy is this?"
Zack: You know, I think this picture is staged.
Dave: How's that?
Zack: The angle of the arm, the smug look, I think it's two different people. Some dude got a really dumb tattoo and he just goes around taking pictures with people to humiliate them.
Zack: He crouches down at the last second so that only his arm is in the frame.
Dave: Aww, why do it to this poor clod? The guy obviously has enough problems.
Dave: For one thing, he looks like David Thorpe about five years worth of poor diet and shitty decisions from now.
Zack: Everyone looks like you, Dave. I don't know how it happened, but it happened. You're like Zelig. Or everyone else is.
Dave: Well, I mean, there are the obvious ones, like Paul Newman, Steve McQueen, et cetera, but I wouldn't say everyone.
Zack: Politico had a split photo up and I was confused as to why Dave would be suing Dave over the Minnesota senate seat.
Zack: Although that might have been my fault because I kept thinking that even after I read the caption about Norm Coleman and Al Franken.
Dave: I guess both of those guys kind of look like me, if you mix in a little bit of Robert Redford and a dash of Denzel Washington.
Zack: Yesterday I thought you were in the marines.
Zack: There was a "post the saddest picture" threads on the forums and a goon posted a picture of you standing next to a really sad looking woman in a wedding dress. He said you were burned terribly.
Zack: I guess you got a divorce from her?
Zack: How'd that work out?
Dave: That wasn't me, although I admit he looks like me if you sort of undo all the burns and make him look approximately halfway between Rock Hudson and the guy from the Twilight movie, but maybe a little more conventionally handsome.
Zack: I was watching TV and I was stunned when Wilma pulled your tail and used you to open a can. How did you land that gig on the Flintstones?
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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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.