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I wish we could go back, but I don't think we're welcome there. | No, Marge, there's one group that's always welcome in America: immigrants without I.D. |
Name? | Simpson. |
From now on, you're the Simps! | Ooh, that'll save some time. |
From now on, you're the Simps! | Now, kids, it'll take us a while to assimilate. I'll start out as a cop, and then, with time, become a dirty cop. |
Today, Geezer Rock will be officially designated a national landmark! | Bart! You promised you'd stop making that comparison. |
Today, Geezer Rock will be officially designated a national landmark! | Per... our... agreement! |
He's got a tree in his eye! | If that tree gets too big, it'll ruin the beauty of that rock. We'll lose tourists! And then who will buy my roadside corn? |
You don't sell roadside corn. | There's a lot you don't know about me, Marge. A lot that would shock you. |
But I didn't read my poem! | Here's a poem: "run fast, or lose your ass"! |
Well, at least some good came out of today. | Bart, you're grounded for a year. |
I'll just pay the fine. | Okay, three bucks. |
Thanks for helping me deliver the first edition of The Red Dress Press, Dad. | I'm always happy to help you, sweetie. |
Thanks for helping me deliver the first edition of The Red Dress Press, Dad. | He TOSSES a paper and yells out the window. |
Thanks for helping me deliver the first edition of The Red Dress Press, Dad. | Extree! Extree! Man driving erratically throws papers out window! |
Dad! Mr. Burns cut our power -- now I can't print my paper! | These batteries have to power everything in our house! |
Dad! Mr. Burns cut our power -- now I can't print my paper! | YO, I'LL TELL YOU WHAT I WANT, WHAT I REALLY REALLY WANT... WHAT I WANT WHAT I WANT I'LL TELL YOU WHAT I... |
Dad! Mr. Burns cut our power -- now I can't print my paper! | That was totally worth it. |
So, has your daughter always been such a righteous little rabble-rouser? | Oh yeah, she's always trying to improve mankind. |
Fascinating. Do go on. | Wait a minute. Are you trying to get dirt on Lisa? |
You saw right through me. Well done! Have some congratulatory drugs. | Well, if that's your custom. |
Now, tell me more about your daughter. And speak into the lamp. | Okay. |
Now, tell me more about your daughter. And speak into the lamp. | Well, she's into Buddhism, whistle-blowing, totally against pollution no matter what I say... |
Liberal whacko, eh? Any young beaux? | Well, that loser Milhouse has always had a thing for her. Don't you love it when nerds don't know they're nerds? |
Dad, how could you say these things? | I'm so sorry, honey. I said good things about you too. Check out the Lifestyle section: "Plastic pearls make the girl." |
Take my wallet and leave me alone! | Oh, I can't stand seeing one of my children like this. |
Look at you go. Type-ity type, type, type! | Marge, I'm pullin' an all-nighter for my little girl. Put on a pot of coffee, drink it and start makin' burgers. |
"The Homer Times"? | "All my daughter ever did was tell people to think for themselves. I may be her father, but when I grow up, I wanna be just like her. Except still a dude." |
Check out the Willie World News: I review the new tractors. They're all shite! | See, Lisa? Instead of one Big Shot controlling all the media, now there's a thousand freaks Xeroxing their worthless opinions. |
Am I the only one here who's in horrible pain? | You're the only one who won't shut up about it. |
Homer, what are you doing? | Trying to get a Frisbee off the roof. |
My, you look awfully pale. Let's get you some fresh air. | And while you're there, can you get my Frisbee off the ledge? |
Well I didn't need any special power to know that was comin'. | Hey Flanders, have you seen my Frisbee? |
Homer, I can foretell people's deaths! | People's deaths, eh? |
Homer, I can foretell people's deaths! | Do me! Do me! |
Uh, you die eating a submarine sandwich. | What kind of bread? |
Country parmesan. | Woo hoo! |
Don't worry, sweetie. I am not going to kill your father. | Flanders? Kill me? You never killed anybody... and you're gonna start with the big dog? |
Homer, please, don't tempt the gods. I-I mean God! There's-there's one God! Only one! Well, sometimes there's three. | Hey Chief, throw me your piece. |
Uh, sure thing, citizen. | C'mon, shoot me a new one! |
Uh, sure thing, citizen. | Oh, I'm so scared. Ned Flanders is pointing a gun at me. You couldn't even shoot me by accident, even if I whacked the barrel like this. |
Quit whackin' my barrel! | Never! |
But you're gonna kill us all... | But ice cream cake... |
Do it! Do it! Kill everyone! | It sure is taking me a long time to reach this button. |
Homer, I am so mad at you! I'll bet you blew up the town just to get out of cleaning the garage! | Everything's comin' up Homer. |
Yeah, well, the joke's on you, smart guy. The garage made it to Heaven too! | Hmmm, I wonder if I could blow up Heaven? |
Your Frisbee. | Cool. You guys got a good buffet up here? |
Oh yeah. Just stay away from the three bean salad. | You're not the boss of me. |
Prior to ingestion, the pill must be reduced by my amazing new shrink ray. | Shrink ray? Oh, there's always something else to buy. |
Bio-nauts assemble! | Captain! |
Dad, you should listen to him. He's a man of science and you can barely read! | Bah! Has science ever kissed a woman, or won the Super Bowl, or put a man on the moon? This is what I think of your precious science. |
Why is my swimsuit so revealing? | Marge, that's what turns a mediocre voyage into a fantastic voyage. |
Where'd you get that rib? | There's a whole rack of 'em over there. I only ate two. |
Learning is cool! | And to make sure we get there super fast, I'm hitting all the buttons with my palm. |
Although I must admit, they know where to stop. | We'll have to lighten the ship, which means one of us has to stay behind. Bart?... Lisa?... |
Although I must admit, they know where to stop. | Fine, me. |
Don't worry. We'll be fine! | I'm saying goodbye to everything I ever loved. Ooh, a marshmallow! |
Don't worry. We'll be fine! | Boy, when God closes a door, he opens a window. |
Oh, I feel full enough as it is. | I say when we're full. You don't wanna piss off a man who can kick you in the crotch from the inside. |
Oh, I feel full enough as it is. | I need a mouth hole. And some other holes too. |
Cheer up, my chubby inner child. I've got a feeling everything's going to work out fine. Because I'VE GOT YOU UNDER MY SKIN... | I'VE GOT YOU DEEP IN THE HEART OF ME... |
Relax, we're just looky-loos. We're only here to compare our lifestyle to our neighbors. | Oh c'mon, Marge. It's not fair to compare us to an American household. |
It's so beautiful and modern. Ooh, a Sub-Zero fridge... | A slightly colder fridge? In my lifetime? Amazing. |
This is the kitchen I've always wanted. Ooh, a bread maker-maker! | And check this out. |
This is the kitchen I've always wanted. Ooh, a bread maker-maker! | A walk-in microwave! Hey Marge, can you press stop when my popcorn's done? |
This is the kitchen I've always wanted. Ooh, a bread maker-maker! | Uh-oh. |
Homie, when I married you, I knew we wouldn't live in luxury. | And I kept that vow. |
But seeing that kitchen today made me wish we had something a little better for ourselves. | I'll build you a new kitchen, sweetie. |
Oh, Homie... that's so thoughtful, but maybe we should hire a professional contractor. | A contractor? Those guys are the biggest crooks around. They charge for materials and labor! Pick one, jerks! |
Oh, Homie... that's so thoughtful, but maybe we should hire a professional contractor. | Man, that hurt. And now to do the exact same thing again. |
Maybe you should turn off the power. | All right. |
Don't demolish along the way! | Fine. |
Don't demolish along the way! | Easy... easy... |
"Playdude" magazines? Have you been hiding bosom rags from me? | Trying to. |
These magazines are from before we were married. Maybe you should throw them away. | But I need them for the articles! |
I like-a to kiss. | Of course not. Why would I want to look at a nude woman I'm not even married to? I mean, I wouldn't even know how she could improve me. |
I'm not wearing any clothes. So why don't I just splay myself on a pool table! | Steady, steady... |
Okay, here's your precious articles. | Thanks, Marge. I can't wait to read about "Sport Fishing With Sonny Jurgensen." |
Okay, here's your precious articles. | What man would want you now? |
I think you used too much plaster. | Oh, now you tell me. |
I never stopped telling you. | So that's what that white noise was. |
Thanks for taking the job. I'm sorry my husband is being so difficult. | Get lost, crook! |
That's all right, Mrs. Simpson. Many husbands feel emasculated when their wife must turn to a professional to satisfy her remodeling needs. | Why don't you just kiss her? |
What's the first thing you're gonna make in your new kitchen? | How 'bout cooking up some money because this stupid kitchen cost a hundred thousand dollars. |
What's the first thing you're gonna make in your new kitchen? | I was thinking of chicken wings. |
What's the first thing you're gonna make in your new kitchen? | Those are good too. |
Bart, can you come in here for a second? | Your mother's about to show us her new recipe. |
It's dessert, but it's hot dogs, so it's good for you! | Marge, I don't want to freak you out, but I think I love you. |
Oh my God! Someone, somewhere says I'm better than someone else! | I'm proud of you, honey. |
Listen here, Simpson. Your son has been exposing our kids to adult themes, unabashed dictionaries, and the lesser short fiction of John Cheever! | Adult themes? What are you talking about? |
Ralphie wants to go on the pill! | Stupid Bart. Bagpipes getting down with an octopus... that's classic. |
I can't believe my Mom would cheat. | Hey sweetie, is Mom winning? |
Oh, she'll win the contest, but she'll lose her soul. | But she'll still win the contest? |
And lose her soul. | But win the contest? |
Yes. | Woo-hoo! If Marge becomes Auntie Ovenfresh, we'll meet all the food personalities... |
Yes. | Look! It's Mister Cashew... the Koobler Dwarfs... Snip, Crinkle and Poof... |
Yes. | Twinkle the Kidd, I love you! |
Bachelors are always squeezin' stuff! | Would you excuse us, Milton? |
It's Milhouse. | Yeah, and your father's "No House." Now scram. |
It's Milhouse. | Maybe I was a little hard on him. Oh, well. Bart, I know a father has no right to pry into the life of his ten-year-old son. But what's going on up here? |
I'm just spreadin' the Playdude philosophy. Hi-fi's, Norman Mailer, gettin' some... | Uh-um... What do you think "some" is? |
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