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Gee, you strangle him all the time, and that never happens. | Well, I... There. Right as rain, there. |
Gee, you strangle him all the time, and that never happens. | Marge, that "curse" is just a lot of silly superstition. Right Lisa? |
Yeah, but a lot harder to catch. Uh, go with the leprechaun. | Guys, I am not cursed! |
Well, okay, but hurry up. | Oh, Moe, they're dead! And it's all my fault! |
Well, okay, but hurry up. | When did that happen? |
...ya big fat ass! | Ah, 'tis like the singin' of the angels themselves. |
Maybe you need to take the leprechaun and sic it on the gypsy. | Good idea, Mr. Ed. Wanna come along, Noodle Neck? |
Ah, the cursed one. How's that curse I cursed you with, Cursed-y , hm? | I know you don't remember me, but here's a little revenge, Irish-style! |
Ah, the cursed one. How's that curse I cursed you with, Cursed-y , hm? | Yah! |
Ah, the cursed one. How's that curse I cursed you with, Cursed-y , hm? | Wake up, ya lousy drunk! |
Hold me close... kiss me I'm Irish... | Ew! Nasty! |
The best thing about a gypsy wedding is I'm not the hairiest woman here. | Yep. Everything worked out for the best. |
What? Bart is dead! | Well, me saying I'm sorry won't bring him back. |
The gypsy said it would. | She's not the boss of me. |
Dinner is served. | Mm, various eggs. |
Bravo, Pierce! | Trusting every aspect of our lives to a giant computer was the smartest thing we ever did! |
Uh-huh. Absolutely. / Yep. / | Oh, I agree. |
Homer, my dear fellow. You're carrying quite a bit of tension in your back fat, Homer. | Yeah, that's the price of success. |
Can I top you off? | What's my blood alcohol? |
Point one five. | Keep 'em comin'. |
You know, Marge is quite a remarkable woman. | Yeah, she's cool. |
You're certainly a lucky man to have her. | Lucky, shmucky. I knocked her up. But she's stuck now -- we're married, till death do us part. But if I died, she'd be completely free. For man or machine. |
Machine, eh? | Yep, a machine. |
Homer! Homer, you're alive! | Yep. Man one, machine zero. How do you like that score? |
Dad, that's the water softener! | Well, I am missing the back of my head. I think you could cut me some slack. |
Homer, no! | Oh, I'm gonna enjoy this. |
Oh, how magical! | Yeah, yeah, these kids are pretty special... |
She'll be killed! | My sweet little angel! |
Shazbot. | Hey, we stayed for your kids! |
Oh-ho-ho. If our Wampum Wagon spots your KBBL Party Penguin, you'll win forty dollars! | Didja hear that, Pengy? Forty dollars! |
Hey, there's the Wampum Wagon! | End of the line, boys. |
Yes they are, Roy. | Judge Snyder? While we're young? |
On the other hand, I was young once. | I'll bring the car around. |
Don't spit on my cupcake and tell me it's frosting. | What'd she say about cupcakes? |
According to this, your father was driving you to school? Then where was he when you stole the police car? | Uh, your Honor, I was chasing the KBBL Party Penguin Prize Patrol. |
You abandoned your son to win forty dollars? | And a Blue Oyster Cult medallion. |
You abandoned your son to win forty dollars? | Coooool. |
And that was more important than keeping your son out of trouble? | Your Honor, if I may sing a little bit of "Don't Fear the Reaper", I think you'll agree that... |
I'm familiar with B.O.C. But you have got a boy here who is crying out for adult supervision. | I couldn't agree more. Perhaps some sort of court-appointed baby-sitter or au pair. |
Sorry, Bub. That crow won't caw. | It won't? |
I hereby order you to be tethered to your son. | Tethered?! |
Tethered. Report to room five. | Room five?! |
There we go. How's that? | It's a little tight. |
Sir, you are not a size four. | I used to be. |
Well, maybe it'll be fun. You'll get to spend more time together. Make sure your father takes his mood medication. | I'll medicate you... |
Well, maybe it'll be fun. You'll get to spend more time together. Make sure your father takes his mood medication. | ...honey. You know, this could be fun. Race you to the kitchen, my little tether ball. |
Today we're going to talk about predicates and predicate nominatives. | Bo-ring. |
Mr. Simpson, I'm trying to teach. | Come on, these kids are never gonna use that stuff. |
Will you please just go back to sleep? | Fine. |
Night terrors, ma'am. | Cobras! |
Hurry up, Dad! | I'm with you, son! |
Wow, my first home run. | That's my boy... |
Can I ask you something, Dad? | Sure, boy. |
The town keeps getting bigger. Will there always be enough electricity? | Oh, son. You know that's none of your business. Say, is that our house? |
Uh, I don't think Lenny's house has a steeple. | Oh, yeah... I forget things sometimes... |
Hey, hey. No kids in the bar. | Since when? |
Oh, the heat's been on since them Bush girls were in here. | All right, all right. Come on, Bart. |
I'm cold and scared. | That's my little slugger. |
C'mon, Dad. Let's go. | Hey, knock it off! These pants cost six hundred dollars! |
Really? | Yeah, they're Italian. |
All right. Hand 'em over. | Moe? What the?... |
There's a new judge in town with a hard-nosed approach to juvenile crime: punish the parents. | It's about time. Oh. |
Granted. But you gotta admit, constant supervision has been good for Bart. He might even make the honor roll, if Dad can control his night terrors. | Well, that's a pretty big "if," honey. |
C'mon, Dad. I gotta go to the bathroom. | Oh, I just got comfortable. Use the bottle. |
Come on, Homer. | No! |
Homer, just take him to the bathroom. | Fine. I don't even know why we have a bottle. Somebody tell me! |
Would you mind? I'm trying to do my homework. | Ah, son, it's a little chilly. Maybe you should wrap a blanket around your head. |
Oh, Homie, no. We can't. | What's the big deal? He sees a thousand times worse on that animal channel. |
I don't want him to see us expressing our love. | Why not? Kids are very visual these days. |
No! | But... |
The lady said no. | Hey, shut up. |
You shut up. | Ow! Why you--! |
What'd you do that for? | Because I... Ow! You--! |
Ah! | Ow! |
I'm sleeping in the bathtub. | Why you little... |
That's right. It's me, Judge Harm, through the magic of fiber optics. | Heyyy, how 'bout that? Ha, ha. |
Quiet, Tubsy. You violated my order. | But, Constance, it only happened because... |
No! | Wait. I'm to blame, Judge. You see, I was pressuring my wife to make love in front of our son... you're gonna laugh when you hear this... when suddenly... |
You two need to wake up and smell the java. And the first step is to admit that you're bad parents. | I admit it. |
You're so busy thinking up crazy ways to punish people, you can't see how much I love my kids. | Your Honor, I'd like to be tried separately. |
Not yet. No. Today the judge wants you to bend over so people can spank you from their cars. | Well, that explains the sign. |
I just can't do that, Homer. It's a matter of principle. And I need you to support me in this. | You're right. It's time to stand up to that firm-breasted judge. |
I want goggles, too. | Shhh, you'll wake up Flanders... |
Ahh!! | Hey, Marge, surf's up! |
You're using my table saw to violate a court order? | Well, we tried all those other tools. |
Gee, I always like to help you, Homer, but I don't want to be an accessory to some sort of shady doin's. And it does raise a whole host of ethical questions, such as... | Woo hoo! |
If that costume shop knew we were using these burglar outfits for real, they'd be furious. | Okay, she lives at one Ocean View Drive. Let's start skulking. |
If that costume shop knew we were using these burglar outfits for real, they'd be furious. | It's only the milkman. Hey, maybe I should be a milkman. |
Concentrate, Homer. | This address must be wrong. |
No. No, there it is! | She lives in a houseboat? Wow, she is so cool. |
We hate her, Homer. | I know, I know. Fight the power. |
Let's do this thing. | Cops! |
And help me with this banner. | I hate to call a judge dirty names, but there's only one way to describe a nasty super witch like her. |
She's gonna find us! | Oh Lord, guide this cinder block... |
Homer, no! | Uh-oh. |
My house! | Hey, how ya doin'? |
That quilt was made by my grandmother. | So... it cost you nothin'. |
We promise. | That was close. |
What's that noise? | Just the radio, dear. |
What are you reading, Homie? | The bridge column. Oh, that South. You never know what he'll do next. Hm... Aw. Look at that dad in "Drabble." He's like an unfunny version of me. |
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