Thought of the Day

People have been trying to find the lost city of Atlantis for centuries. I think if they really want to find Atlantis, they should just start putting pictures of it on the backs of milk cartons.

Thought of the Day

Contrary to public opinion, there is a word out there that rhymes with orange. “Orange.”

Thought of the Day

I think the guy who invented boxing must’ve been a fighter himself. Only someone who’d taken a lot of shots to the head would’ve made a boxing ring that’s square.

Thought of the Day

You just can’t trust mechanics anymore. I went to the garage the other day to get my brakes replaced. Unfortunately, they went and replaced them with Sammy Hagar.

Thought of the Day

I was reading that shark attacks in the States have gone up over 300% in the past year. But that isn’t the surprising part. Turns out, 30% of those attacks took place at Red Lobster.

Thought of the Day

It’s not easy being green. That’s why all bananas aspire to be yellow.

Thought of the Day

I don’t envy the guy who had to sculpt the four presidents on Mount Rushmore. Talk about your stressful jobs! You’d have to drive two miles away just to see if you got Lincoln’s nose right.

Thought of the Day

I often wonder who’d be the first one to die on Gilligan’s Island – if they had to resort to cannibalism.

Thought of the Day

I’m never going to an oyster bar again. I went to one the other day and three oysters tried to pick me up.

Thought of the Day

I’m not sure what my dad did for a living. But I think he was a librarian. When we were growing up, all he ever did was tell us to keep quiet.

Thought of the Day

Most people don’t have anything prophetic to say when they die. Take my great-uncle Julius for instance. If I remember correctly, his last words were: “These mushrooms taste a little off.”

A Short Disclaimer

Here at The Scarecrow Report, we would like to deeply and sincerely apologize for the coarse language and adult subject matter in our last post. We always make it a point to keep offensive material to a minimum. And by minimum, we mean quite a lot, really. 

 

So in the future, Mrs. Ruth Eppings of Newcastle, Ontario—yes, yes, we heard you—please keep an open mind about such things and remember that denial is not just a river in Egypt.

Beaver Gets Downsized

scene: The family room in the Cleaver household. The room is empty with the exception of Ward Cleaver who is leaning back in his easy chair, pipe at his side, intently leafing through a magazine called Leather Bondage Boys. Beaver comes in the front door and Ward jumps before throwing his magazine behind the chair. 

 

beaver: Hi, Dad! 

 

ward: Oh. Uh, hi, Beaver. 

 

beaver: Hey, guess what? We just had a test today—I got an A in personal hygiene! Isn’t that keen? 

 

ward: Uh, Beaver, I think you’d better sit down. We need to talk... (June enters.) 

 

june: Oh, uh, hi, Beaver. 

 

beaver: (sits) Say, why’s everybody so gloomy all of a sudden? Is it about that squirrel I flushed down the toilet? I can explain. Honest! 

 

ward: No, no. Beaver, your mother and I have been doing a lot of thinking. We’ve been grading your performance lately and you see, well...we’re going to let you go

 

beaver: What?! 

 

june: Sorry, Beaver. We just needed a son that’s more... reasonable. 

 

ward: Yes, where is that boy? (Calling.) Oh, Son! (Eddie Haskell enters the room with a big dopey look on his face. He throws himself on the couch, arms behind his head.) 

 

eddie: Howdy, folks! (to Beaver) Heya, squirt! You still here? 

 

beaver: I don’t believe this! 

 

eddie: Well, get used to it, TV-boy. (Turns to June.) Why, that’s a very nice sweater, Mrs. Cleaver. 

 

june: Why thank you, Eddie... But please, you’re family now. Call me Mommy. 

 

eddie: (smiling) Oooh, Mommy...I think I need a spanking. I’ve been bad... 

 

beaver: Hey! Don’t say that to my mother! 

 

eddie: Aw, whatta you want from me? Your mom’s a nice piece of ass. 

 

june: (running her hand up Eddie’s arm, a little suggestively) Oh, Ward, isn’t he cute? 

 

beaver: This isn’t fair! How can you pick that creep over me?! 

 

ward: Now, now, Beaver. This is all for your own good. You know if you’d only given your mother those sponge baths like she’d asked, this never would’ve happened. 

 

beaver: Yeah but gee. I didn’t want to feel all funny and stuff..

 

june: Oh, c’mon Beaver. They do stuff like that on the internet all the time. 

 

beaver: Mom, this is the Fifties! The internet hasn’t even been invented yet! 

 

june: Oh, you shut up. (Wally suddenly enters the room carrying a milk crate full of clothes and football pennants.) 

 

beaver: Wally! Hey, Wally! What are you doing?! 

 

wally: (bitter) Just got my walking papers, Beave. 

 

beaver: What?! Not you too! 

 

wally: Yeah. I got traded to the Hendersons for a case of Yoo-Hoo and a fourth round draft pick. 

 

ward: (low) Third round. 

 

wally: Fascist! 

 

beaver: Wally, don’t go...we can beat this...we can get Lumpy and– 

 

wally: (irked, heads for the front door) Get used to it, Beave. This isn’t Mayfield anymore. This is fucking Stalingrad! (Exits.) 

 

eddie: And good riddance. 

 

wally: (off in the distance) Asshole! 

 

ward: (points pipe) Now Beaver, we’ll give you an hour to clear out your things. Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll find work. I hear they could use a few extras over on Father Knows Best. 

 

beaver: (raving, pointing his finger) This is bullshit...you can’t do this to me! I’m the star of this fucking puppet show! You’ll pay for this—mark my words! You haven’t seen the last of me yet! No sir...I’ll tell my friends! I’ll tell my lawyer! I’ll tell the world! (Beaver exits. Seconds later, he returns.) 

 

ward: (points) Your room is that way, Beaver. 

 

beaver: And another thing. Fuck you! Fuck you—and the horse you rode in on! (Leaves again.) 

 

ward: (pauses, finally) Eddie, go give the Beaver a little...severance pay. (Eddie gets up, cracks his knuckles. Ward grabs Eddie’s sweater to stop him.) Go easy on the kneecaps. (Eddie follows. June comes to Ward’s side.)j

 

une: Ward, I’m worried about the Beaver. I think he might do something. You know, he’s still got that German machine gun collection of his. 

 

ward: Oh, I don’t think so dear. (Ward opens an envelope and pulls out a few photos. He looks one up and down.) You see, the Beaver has a way with little girls. And so will People Magazine. 

 

(Dramatic music. Fade out.) 

 

FINI.