Dr. Thorpe: God, looking into that space between his sunglasses and his face is worse than staring up a nostril.

Zack: If that guy on the right isn't a villainous mastermind then the fabric of our reality is a lie.

Dr. Thorpe: "Any minute now, my child, the sky will erupt in a wall of flame, and the screams of a thousand souls will float into our ears like the glorious music of angels. Those who survive will call me their god."

Zack: His sidekick is a buck-toothed mongoloid with the strength of a bull and the tender heart of a child. "BOTHHHH, I THINK I BROKED THA NEW-PRIMA CRYSTAL THINGY!"

Dr. Thorpe: "You fool! Now the vermin of this city shall never feel the tearing grip of the righteous claw of doom!" Dr. Diolen's plans are always foiled at the last minute by the incompetence of his sidekick, and yet, amazingly, he never fires the little guy. He just can't stay mad at that adorable little Bobby Kennedy face.

Zack: Man-thing, I should turn you into a eunuch with a spoon! But, that innocent glimmer in your eyes and that dimpled chin of yours have changed my mind. We shall abandon our plans to scourge this city of the human filth and we shall travel via Noctocopter to get a frozen custard.


Dr. Thorpe: "SILENCE!"

Zack: "One more word from your meaty maw and it's no toppings."

Dr. Thorpe: Yelling "SILENCE!" at him is basically just a reflex at this point. "HEY BOTH, I WANNA-" "SILENCE!" "BUT BOTH, I JUTHT WANNA GO TO THUH BATHROOM!"

Zack: He used to accompany "SILENCE!" with a sound slap on his servant's face, but that just makes him sob hysterically and Dr. Diolen would have to yell himself hoarse screaming "silence!"

Dr. Thorpe: "Evacuate your bladder, subhuman manling, but be swift! I need your assistance in repairing a leak in the Warlock Hovercraft!"

Zack: So basically this guy is like Doctor Smith from Lost in Space only even more flamboyantly homosexual.

Dr. Thorpe: And seven feet tall.

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About This Column

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.

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