Scooby or not Scooby





Scooby or not Scooby—what a stupid question:
Whether ‘tis nobler of the mind to suffer
The laughs of Barney and Fred,
Or the manly forearms of Popeye on the seas of trouble
And, by opposing, end Chip & Dale, please. To die, to sleep—
No more—and by a sleep to dream visions of Power Puff Girls
Such heartache and the thousand natural shocks
Their flesh stings in me—\'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be flushed. To cry, to creep—
To weep, perchance to cream that stinking Road Runner.
Ay, there\'s the rub, Wile E. always get screwed
Acme stuff never works. But he never dies—no sleep of death.
When QuickDraw McGraw shuffles off to El Kabong his
Mortal coil, Baba Louie must give paws. There\'s the respect
That we give to the dog who goes after Foghorn Leghorn
Whose continual calamities suffer his life.
For only Yogi Bear would grip the pic-i-nic baskets and scorn
The times when Ranger Smith assumes him th\' oppressor wrong.
The fangs of Kool Kat, whose beatnick style of rap
Despised the hunter in the iron elefant to spurn his
Patience and chase most haste with his Remington at whatever
Pace it took, while he himself bright and always stealth
Would slip his body away into a barrel. Who would Fraggles fear,
Certainly not the runt dozers who sweat and work a weary life,
While the great Trash Heap talks dreadfully of things after death,
More like the ogre\'s undiscovered country from where radishes
Are born and puzzled travelers return, like Goober Fraggle
Whose lack of will is rather ill and cowardly flys
To others when he doesn\'t know what to do.
Thus conscience does make cowards (of us all,)
Except Johny Bravo whose never pale skin and
Constantly cast hair enterprises great pitch lines and
Moments that women regard with disgust and turns them away
But he will never refuse the name of action.





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