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Episode: 319- War of the Colossal Beast

Joel: I'll give you both two minutes to state your case and then time for a short rebuttal. Okay?
Crow: Okay
Joel: Alright. Now, standard debate rules. I will act as arbiter. On my mark, begin Mr. Crow!
Crow: Mr. B Natural was a woman. Of this there can be NO doubt!
Tom (intense, getting in Crow's face): Not a chance, fembot!
Joel: Hey! Hey! Hey! That's one penalty point for Mr. Servo. Mr. Crow, begin again!
Crow: Thank you, commissioner. We are compelled to look on the 'Mister' moniker as merely a whimsical, contrived characterization in the spirit of Peter Pan, played convincingly by the late Mary Martin. And the late Cathy Rigby. And the late Sandy Duncan. And the late--
Joel: Get to the point, Mr. Robot!
Crow: The point, sirs, is BREASTS!
Tom: Huh?!
Crow: Yes! Mr. B Natural had breasts! A decidedly unnatural thing for a man to have, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Servo? When one takes into account the short jacket, the shiny leotard, the wide hips, unless one is wildly confused, as my colleague seems to be, one concludes naturally that Mr. B Natural is indeed a wonderfully, spritely--albeit annoying--woman!
Joel: Thank you, Mr. T. Robot. Your response, Mr. Servo.
Tom: (as William F. Buckley) Thank you, Mr. Utley. (Tom launches into a big-worded, long-winded speech)
Joel: Mr. Servo! I'm warning you! No William F. Buckley impersonations under threat of a point reduction!
Tom (normal voice): Okay! Sorry! (Clears throat) Mr. B Natural, what a guy! Yes, Mr. B Natural is a decidedly modern man. Ignoring the restrictions placed on him by modern society, Mr. B Natural dresses as he does, just as he sees fit. If this means dressing in a shimmering leotard and a powder-blue note-spangled jacket and climbing through the windows of young, troubled middle schoolers to play clarinet into the wee hours, waking them the next day to whisper into their young, tender ears, I say more power to him!
Joel: Mr. Servo, you're evading the question!
Tom: If by this, sir, you mean that Mr. B Natural is a man, I challenge you to come up with unequivocal evidence to the contrary! They named him 'Mister' and I, for one, have faith they knew what they were doing! You might as well just ask me to prove a fish is a fish! Gentlemen! IT JUST IS! As for these phantom 'breasts' Mr. Robot claims to have seen, I say 'Phooey-Kaflooey!' Perhaps he has been in space TOO long! Mr. B Natural is just THAT! Here's wishing we ALL could be a little more like him. I yield the floor.
Joel: Mr. T. Robot, you have twenty minutes to rebutt.
Crow: Mr. Servo, you've GOT to be kidding me! Let's assume for the moment that Mr. B Natural IS a man. My heavens! What a confusing message to send to little kids! Already, there's the painful feeling of isolation, the horrible, scarring acne. And Mr. Servo here would have us place a cross-dressing man with a clarinet slap dab in their bedrooms! Why not men in Little Bo Peep costumes with stinky cigars explaining the facts of life to our unsuspecting daughters? I, for one--
Joel: Mr. Servo, your rebuttal!
Tom: Yes! Yes! Mr. Crow! I don't think we should stop there! Let's break down ALL the barriers. Hairy men in Spartan costumes holding bake sales on shady boulevards! Naked jock-strap wrestling! Big--
Joel (interrupting): Gentlemen, I have Commercial Sign, I'm sorry.