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Go crazy? | Don't mind if I do. |
I'll take a hit, dealer. Joker? You're supposed to take those out of the deck! | Ooh, sorry. Here's another one. |
Oh, Homer. | Well, you'll be happy to know I don't work very hard. Actually, I'm bringing the plant down from the inside. |
Your honor, we find that Homer Simpson's soul is legally the property of Marge Simpson and not of the devil. | Woo hoo! Ow! |
I suggest you leave immediately. | Or what? You'll release the dogs? Or the bees? Or the dogs with bees in their mouths, and when they bark, they shoot bees at you? Well go ahead, do your worst. |
Bart! | Young man, in this house, we use a little word called "please"... |
Those are all good points, but the problem is they don't result in me getting the game. | I know how you feel, Bart. When I was your age, I wanted an electric football game more than anything in the world, and my parents bought it for me, and it was the happiest day of my life. Well, goodnight. |
Gotta change that answering machine tape! Oh God, I gotta change that tape! | Gotta change Maggie! Dear God, we gotta change Maggie! |
Hello, Muddah. Hello, Faddah. Here I am, at Camp Granada... | Marge, is Lisa at Camp Granada? |
Homer, didn't you get any milk? All I see is egg nog. | 'Tis the season, Marge! We only get thirty sweet, noggy days, then the government takes it away again! |
Bart, what's taking so long? If you're having that problem with your zipper, I can send your father up. | Oh, no, I'm not. |
Please, Bart, no more pranks. It would mean so much to me if we could have just one nice family photo. | Hey! I don't remember saying that! |
Okay. | I wanna price some flip-flops and smell the new tires and consult the pharmacist for some free medical advice! |
What's wrong, honey? | Uh-oh. Somebody's got tired little legs. |
What's wrong, honey? | Hmm. Wonder where the flip-flops are.... "Menswear?" |
What's wrong, honey? | Maybe it's "Sporting Goods"... Wait, no, "Sleepwear"... Oh, probably "Better Living." |
Oh, Homie. Look at that watch. I've always wanted a watch like that. | Well, maybe someone will give you one for Christmas... |
Oh, Homie. Look at that watch. I've always wanted a watch like that. | Pfft. Must have been a pretty slow century. |
I thought I told you: no returns for busted merchandise. | What are you doing to my son?!! |
Goodnight. | I've figured out the boy's punishment. First: he's grounded. No leaving the house, not even for school. Second: No eggnog. In fact, no nog period. And third, absolutely no stealing for three months. |
I always thought I understood my special little guy. But somewhere along the road, his hand slipped away from mine. | Eh, what are you gonna do? |
You guys made a snowman family? | Check it out, boy! It's like looking into a living snow mirror! |
You can't hide from me in this house, Bart! I spend 23 hours a day here! | Get 'im, Ma! |
Does something smell funny in here? | I don't think so, stupid! |
Homie, you want pork chops? | No, I want roast beef, you clod! |
Those magazines create a dangerous amount of laughter. | "The All igh-ty ollar?" I get it. |
Gee, business stinks tonight. Where's Barney, Lenny, and Carl? | Ahhh... they never come around anymore now that they've got their mistresses. |
Awwww. | Well, you're closing. It's getting late. My kids are probably wondering where their daddy is. There's gotta be some other place we can go. Think, Moe. Think. |
That I cannot bowl wreaks havoc with my self-esteem as well. But who am I to complain? | I'm tired of being a wannabe league bowler. I wannabe a league bowler. |
That I cannot bowl wreaks havoc with my self-esteem as well. But who am I to complain? | Hey, we can be a team! |
That I cannot bowl wreaks havoc with my self-esteem as well. But who am I to complain? | Woo hoo! We won! We won! |
That I cannot bowl wreaks havoc with my self-esteem as well. But who am I to complain? | Excuse me, but my "team" is ready to bowl. |
You're short one person. | Uh... |
You're short one person. | That longhair freak's bowled with us for years. |
Okay, then, I just need your five hundred dollar registration fee. | Five hundred dollars?! No problem. Would you take an out-of-state, two-party bad check? |
No, I will not pay you five hundred dollars for sex!! | Aw, come on, Marge! You're getting something in return! And I'm getting a bowling team. It's win/win! |
It's sick! And I don't have that kind of money to spend on sex! Maybe you could get someone with money to sponsor your team. Like Mr. Burns. | Burns never gives money to anybody. Just last week, I asked him for fifteen hundred dollars. |
For what? | Ooh, I've got to get the third degree from you, too? |
Leave the rag. | Uh... Excuse me, Mr. Burns? |
Pop 'n Fresh! You glutinous little doughboy! Oh, there's something I've wanted to do to you for years. | Mr. Burns, I, uh, was wondering if you'd like to sponsor my bowling team... for five hundred dollars. |
Oh, forget this. I am far too fragile to withstand an evening of barbs like that. | Oh, c'mon, if we quit now we'll never know how badly they're gonna beat us. |
Well, that's a funny-looking strike. | C'mon, guys. Let's be the team that supports each other. YOU CAN DO IT OTTO / YOU CAN DO IT OTTO / HELP EACH OTHER OUT, THAT'LL BE OUR MOTTO... |
THEN BACK TO MY PLACE WHERE I WILL GET YOU BLOTTO... | DOMO AREGATTO, MISTER ROBOTO... |
All right. | It's a 7-10 split. |
Uh-huh. | The hardest shot in bowling. It was all up to me. |
Ooh. | So I got up all my courage. Right away, my lips started to move and I came up with a chant that won the match. |
Who knocked down the pins? | I don't know. You know, some guy. Otto, I guess. |
Good for him! | Marge, you're missing the point. The individual doesn't matter. It was a team effort and I was the one who came up with the whole team idea. Me. |
I can't believe Otto picked up a 7-10 split. He's phenomenal! | But... but... |
Ahh... We forfeit. | There it is, boys, the championship trophy! |
Ah, they think they're so high and mighty, just 'cause they never got caught drivin' without pants. | Ah, ha, ha, ha, God-boy couldn't get a strike. |
Bart! Where do you pick up words like that? | Yeah, Moe, that team sure did suck last night! They just plain sucked! I've seen teams suck before, but they were the suckiest bunch of sucks that ever sucked! |
Homer! Watch your mouth! | Gotta go. My damn wiener kids are listening. |
We are not wieners! | Then what are you dressed like that for? |
They made us! | "They made us!" That's loser talk! You gotta start acting more like me and my team, the future league champions of the world! Nothing's gonna stop us now! |
Way to go, Homer! We win again! Good job! Etc. | By the way, rhyming Homer with Homer... |
Listen here... I want to join your team. | You want to join my what? |
Yeah. Call this an unfair generalization if you must, but old people are no good at everything. | Look, guys. It's not that simple, he's my boss. I'll tell you what: I'll give him a shot and if he stinks, it'll be easier to tell him no. |
Well, we certainly got walloped tonight, eh fellas? | Uh, Mr. Burns, next week is the big championship game... |
So, who's ready to kick some Christian keister? | Mr. Burns, as team captain, it's my duty to inform you that... |
I've always been wealthy , but this is the first time I ever felt rich. | Awww. |
Now, Homer, you were about to say something to me... | You're off the team. |
Nice one, Homer. | Thanks. |
Next time, a few steps more toward center, don't you think? | Goodbye, trophy. |
Oh. I'm afraid I've had one of my trademark changes of heart. You see, teamwork will only take you so far, then the truly evolved person makes that extra grab for personal glory. Now, I must discard my teammates, much like the boxer must shed roll after roll of sweaty, useless, disgusting flab before he can win the tit... | I guess some people never change. Or they quickly change, and then quickly change back. |
Live from the famous brown sands of Public Beach, Delaware, it's the Grand Nationals of Sand Castle Building... Preview! | Saturday afternoon TV is so boring. |
That's right, Dick. Y'know, this year everyone's abuzz about one thing: The absence of Mark Rodkin. Oh, wait, there he is. | Marge, I'm bored. |
Why don't you read something? | Because I'm trying to reduce my boredom. |
You'd get some fresh air and exercise. | Eh. I'll do it anyway. |
You'd get some fresh air and exercise. | Come on, boy, we're going to see the neighbors. |
Well if you love it so much, why are you always littering? | It's easier. Duh. |
Howdy, neighbor! May I spray you with the hose in a playful fashion? | Uh, spray the boy. |
Howdy, neighbor! May I spray you with the hose in a playful fashion? | Well, ready for the big rummage sale? |
That fancy house'll never sell. Nobody who could afford it would want to live in this neighborhood. | Hey! What's wrong with this neighborhood? Big shot. Too good to buy a house here, Snobby? |
Who are you talking to, Homer? | The guy who doesn't live there. |
Can we get rid of this "Ayatollah" T-shirt? Khomeini died years ago. | But, Marge, it works on any Ayatollah! Ayatollah Nakhbadeh, Ayatollah Zahedi... Even as we speak, Ayatollah Razmara and his cadre of fanatics are consolidating their power! |
I don't care who's consolidating their power. Well, we don't need this. | Marge, that's the Rhinestone Nights Fashion Gun. I need it to rhinestone-up my old clothing. |
Who's "Disco Stu?" | Oh. I wanted to write "DISCO STUD" but I ran out of space. Not that "Disco Stu" didn't get his share of the action! |
Hey, Disco Stu doesn't advertise. | Uh, hey Ned, lemme help you with that. |
Hey, Disco Stu doesn't advertise. | Hey everybody! Who thinks Flanders should shut up? |
King of the neighborhood! | Say. That Ayatollah thinks he's better than America. Is he right? |
Right here! | And for the man who has everything: a tie rack motor! |
I'll take that. | Hey, big spender! / Dig this blender! / Rainbow suspenders!... |
I'll take that. | Hey, big spender!... |
We surrender!... | Spend some dough at Table Three! |
Wow, a former president, living right across the street! | Why did he have to move in on my territory? Look at him. Thinks just because he led the free world he can act like a big shot. |
Wow, a former president, living right across the street! | Stupid president. Why couldn't he just stay in his own state? |
Actually this is one of the nine states where Mr. Bush claims residency, Dad. I wouldn't have voted for him, but it's nice to have a celebrity in the neighborhood. | Wait a minute. If Lisa didn't vote for him, and I didn't vote for him-- |
You didn't vote for anybody. | I voted for Prell to go back to the old glass bottle. After that, I became deeply cynical. |
That's really more of a weekend thing, Ray. | Hey, jerk! Move your fanny! |
Sir, could you pop your hood? | Hey! My taxes paid for that horn! |
Homie. As long as you keep the car full of gas, I'm happy. | Well, you can always depend on that. |
And that's why your no good kids are running wild! | First Bush invades my home turf, then he takes my pals, then he makes fun of the way I talk... probably..., now he steals my right to raise a disobedient, smart-alecky son! Well, that's it! |
Excuse me, sir, where are you going? | I'm going to punch George Bush in the face! |
Okay is he expecting you? | You owe me an apology! |
You wanna step back, sir. You're trampling the flowers. | Oooh? Hiding behind your goons, eh, Bush? Oooh! Well, you are a wimp. |
All right, mister. You want trouble, you're gonna get trouble. | Oh, I want trouble all right. |
Then you're gonna get trouble. | No, you're gonna get trouble. |
Well, that's good, that's good, 'cause I want trouble. | Then we're agreed. There'll be trouble. |
Oh, yeah. Lots of trouble. | Trouble it is. |
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