Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen. The Department of Economics is proud to present the artists formerly known as profs in the Faculty Staff Skit, Brownfinger

Opening: Bond theme plays on blackened stage. Then a beam of flashlight reveals James Bond looking like he is about to shoot, except that he is holding a calculator.

Goes to black, and then reveals Bond reading the Wall Street Journal

Goes to black, and then Bond with a principles of economics text

Goes to black

Announcer: Our scene opens at Department of Economics Headquarters.

Scene opens at department Headquarters. Bond (B) walks up to Elroy (E)

Bond: The name is Bond……James Bond

Elroy: The name is Roy……..Elroy. I'm the department chair.

Bond: Don't you mean the department head?

Elroy: No, I'm the department chair. That is the department head (points to toilet seat)

Bond: I see when Iowa State assured me that I would be provided all necessary facilities for my work, you assumed I was referring to your indoor plumbing.

Elroy: Of course not. We don't have indoor plumbing. You carry the department head outside to the department hole in the ground.

Bond: Lovely.

Elroy: So, how did you get here?

Bond: I jumped out of a jet plane at 30,000 feet, plummeted 25,000 feet in a breathtaking free fall after which I engaged M.I.5's new "X-27 stroke B dash 1" parasail which allowed me to land on Jack Trice field at the half time of the football game. Luckily, there was no one in the stadium, or someone could have gotten hurt.

Elroy: So the United Airlines service into Des Moines wasn't running?

Bond: That was the United Airlines service into Des Moines. Now why did you require my services?

Elroy: Do you know this man? (shows him picture).

Bond: Of course. Brownfinger, Terry Brownfinger. Evil genius who has been planning to take over the world. Why, is he in Iowa?

Elroy: He's not just in Iowa. He's the governor.

Bond: Amazing. Nobody would vote for him consciously. He must have perfected the….

Elroy: Yes. The stupification ray. He found a way to deliver it through television sets. One day everyone is telling Brownfinger jokes, and the next day he's governor. Funny thing--nobody remembers voting for him.

Bond: Fascinating! But why governor.

Elroy: He needed a cover. He needed a large warehouse for his operation. For twelve years, he's been stockpiling manure in the tower at Terrace Hill.

Bond: Manure?

Elroy: Yeah. Stinks, doesn't it!

Bond: Why manure?

Elroy: He plans to build a mountain of manure. The stench will drive land values down, and he will buy up property for next to nothing. Then, he will convert the mountain of manure into a giant ski resort and casino. He plans to call it Mount Sheiss N Shuss. It will be worth millions.

Bond: Pure genius. But how will he get that much manure?

Elroy: He has built a monster hog facility. He calls it Wright County. The facility can generate 1 million tons of manure a day. Add in what he can generate from the next session of Congress, and he will have all he needs. We need you to stop him.

Bond: No problem. I'm Double O 7, License to kill. You want him shot, blown up, electrocuted, or crushed by a falling satellite?

Elroy: No, no, no. We don't do things like that. If it came out that the University was involved in assassination, alumni donations would fall off. We envision a more discreet approach based on a series of articles published in academic journals, appearances on public radio stations and a letter to the editor.

Bond: That would be a more subtle approach, I agree.

Elroy: Then you will do it?

Bond: Well it's not my specialization, but I'll do my best. I'll need some equipment.

Elroy: Certainly. See accounting on your way out. You'll get the standard assistant professor package.

Song: Brownfinger

Brownfinger

He's the man, the man with the Midas touch

With stuff you flush,

So

Don't linger

On your way, whenever he comes around

You'll end up drowned

Golden words may have certain allure

But let's face it, he works with manure

There's gold he says in his pile of pig turd

But it's a pile of crap from Mister

Brownfinger

Pretty girls, don't be fooled by his high class sound

His heart is brown

Announcer: Our next scene opens at the Department of Economics Accounting Division.

Bond goes to the office of Ms. Penny Pinchy (PP) to get supplies.

Bond: Hello. The name is Bond. James Bond. I was sent here by Roy. Elroy.

PP: Yes, My name is Pinchy. Penny Pinchy, accounting. I've been expecting you.

Bond: Good. I'd like some supplies.

PP: No

Bond: No?

PP: Yes.

Bond: Yes I can have supplies?

PP: No you cannot. No can do. No way. Nosirree Bob.

Bond: But Elroy said I would have the standard assistant professor package

PP: Exactly!

Bond; So I'd like the standard assistant professor package.

PP: Well ok, I can give you this. (hands him empty ziplock bag)

Bond: But this is nothing

PP: You're lucky. That's twice as much as the last guy. You must be doing important work.

Bond: That's it? How am I supposed to go up against Brownfinger with nothing.

PP: You're up against Brownfinger? You will need some help. Sign this.

Bond: What is this?

PP: Your benefits package. You get triple indemnity if you die unnaturally. I'd say you have a sure bet here.

Bond: Thanks. Well, where should I start.

PP: We have arranged a meeting with your research assistant at Brownfinger's casino, Prairie Muffins. And take this. (hands him a paddle)

Bond: Why this?

PP: Because James. You don't want to go up manure creek without a paddle.

Announcer: We will return to our feature presentation, Brownfinger, after this word from sponsors.

Commercial Break. Three people sitting on chairs, staring blankly. Announcer walks over to first student and puts his hand over the student's head.

Announcer: This is a graduate student. (Grad student stares ahead)

Announcer: This is a graduate student on drugs. (Graduate student stares ahead)

Announcer: This is a graduate student on microeconomic theory. (Graduate student stares ahead)

Announcer: Any questions?

Grad student 2: Uhhuh. Will we need to know this for the exam?

Blackout
Announcer: Our next scene opens at the Prairie Muffins Bar.

Bond is seated at the bar of a nearly empty casino. Research assistant, Fortune Teller, sits next to him.

Bond: The name is Bond. Professor Bond.

FT: Hello. I'm Fortune Teller, your research assistant. Could I have the semester off. I have an exam.

Bond: Well, I believe I will need your help.(stops speaking as Bartender walks up with drink. Bond takes a drink, spits it out) I distinctly told you this vodka martini was to be shaken, not stirred.

Bartender: Oh come on mister. It's the night before Christmas. Look all through the house. Not a creature is stirring!

Bond: Oh, very well. (turns back to FT) As I said, I will need your help if I am to stop Brownfinger. What can you tell me him.?

FT: What's to tell. He's into all kinds of manure. This horse track, the hog lot, social science research--the whole nine yards. If he isn't stopped, we will all be buried in it.

Bond: How do I find him.

FT: You have a paddle?

Bond: Yes.

FT: Here. (hands him a gas mask out of box). I know a back way.

Bond and FT are paddling, wearing gas mask. Carry on conversation which is unintelligible because they are wearing the gas masks. Go up and down as chorus hums the James Bond theme.

Announcer: We will return to Brownfinger, but first, this public service announcement from everyone's favorite Economics Library rap group, The Reading Rumors.

Announcer: And now, back to our feature presentation, Brownfinger

Come back, and they are still canoeing with chorus humming James Bond theme. They stop, and then FT takes off gas mask and motions for James to do also.

Bond: Why is it safe to take off the masks? What happened to the odor?

FT: We're inside Brownfinger's compound. He has smell forwarding.

Bond: Where do we find him?

Brownfinger: I have already found you, Mr. Bond. Or should I call you Professor? I see you have already met Miss Fortune. (Evil henchmen surround Bond. FT walks over to stand beside Brownfinger). That is your bad luck.

Bond: She works for you? But why?

FT: Everyone has a price Professor Bond. When Brownfinger started throwing money at me, I sold out. When he started talking about bumping me up to minimum wage, it made my head spin.

Brownfinger: And now, Mr. Bond, it's time to turn you into compost.

Bond: Not so fast, Brownfinger. You haven't told me all the fine details of your diabolical plan so that the audience understands your evil intentions, and so I have time to plan my unbelievable escape.

Brownfinger: I'm way ahead of you Bond. I've prepared a little production number just for that purpose.

Live and Let Die song with evil henchmen as backup singers

When I was young and my yard had a flowing brook

We used to say, "keep the stream clean."

Chorus: We know you meant to keep the stream so very clean

But in this ever changing world in which we live in

Makes me give it a try

Chorus: La, la, la

To live in a sty

Live in a sty

Live in a sty

Live in a sty

What does it matter to ya

When ya got a lotta doodoo

To put it in the well

You got to make the other fellow smell.

Announcer: (cuts off the CD. Singers go away looking disgruntled) Let's get back to Brownfinger's compound.

Brownfinger: Now Mr. Bond, you've had a big day. What say you take a nap in my lagoon. You seem to be a bit pooped.

Bond: I'd rather pass on that, if you don't mind. I'll have you know that as we speak, an article is going to press discussing the welfare implications of methane gas buildup in a closed economy.

Brownfinger: I'm shaking, Bond.

Bond: And I discussed Pigouvian taxes as a solution to externalities from improperly constructed swine facilities.

Brownfinger: OOOOH! I am wounded.

Bond: And I had a letter published in the ISU Daily on adverse economic impacts of nitrate leaching in the groundwater.

Brownfinger: Come now Mr. Bond. This is growing tiresome. Surely you don't expect these things to influence me at all.

Bond: I guess you're right. Lets face it, I'm not cut out for this academic approach. I think it's time I turned the case over to the real experts. In fact, why don't I introduce them to you now: I'm sure you know them. Professors Smith and Wesson. (Bond draws a gun and shoots and all the people die)

Bond: Perhaps the pen is mightier than the sword, but the 45 magnum has it all over the pen.

Announcer: We will see the conclusion of Brownfinger in a moment. But first, a word from our sponsor, Late Night Outreach.

Extension person: Hi. I'm an attractive, articulate fun-loving extension economist. I think we could make wonderful dinner companions for each other. I see us together in a quiet corner in the candlelight, talking hedge-to-arrive contracts like a couple of giddy school kids. I'm 5-10, 120, and not to shabby in the brain department if I say so myself. We'll talk about my research assistants So what do you say? Call my voice mail box, and find out what outreach can do for you..

Announcer: Late Night Outreach. Call anytime to reach our voice mail. No staff will answer, so your privacy is assured. And now, back to Brownfinger. The scene shifts to Department of Economics Headquarters

Scene shifts to the department office, with E and F.

Elroy: Well, Professor Bond. I see you have solved the Brownfinger problem. Ever since that letter to the ISU Daily, no one has seen him. You must have really wounded him. Where do you suppose he'll surface next.

Bond: I don't foresee any problems, Elroy. I think this whole experience has put a tremendous weight on him.

Elroy: I suppose you're right. Now there's the problem of the clean-up. How are we going to get rid of all that manure?

Bond: I've got a crack team working on that already sir. I expect we are unloading a lot of manure as we speak.

Shift to the side where a scout with popcorn containers is knocking on the door. A lady opens the door.

Kid: Hi lady. I'm selling containers of, uhhhh, natural resources. Iowa natural resources. It's for Ames Middle School. If we raise enough money, we get to go skiing at Sheiss N Shluss.