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Which is impossible! | Or so you'd think, except he's done it so many times before. |
You can't ask God to kill someone! | Yeah! You do your own dirty work! |
Madam, your children are no more!... than a pair of ill-bred troublemakers. | Lisa too? |
Especially Lisa. But especially Bart. If he crosses me one more time, just once more... well, I can't be held responsible for my actions. | Well, I hope Bob fed you, 'cause I ate your dinners. |
Oh, that sounds fabulous, Homer. Stores throw the best parties. | You like parties, huh? Well, I just remembered they're having a big one down at the waterfront this weekend. |
You didn't remember that. You just saw it on TV. | The important thing is I didn't imagine it. |
Homer, I've got a fozzie of a bear of a problem. Y'know, Maude and her mother were visiting Tyre and Sidon, the twin cities of the Holy Land. They must've kneeled in the wrong place and prayed to the wrong God, because, well, they're being held prisoner by militants of some sort. | Militants, huh? Well, if I were you, I'd kick their asses. |
Well, any hoodily-doodle, the embassy says it's just a routine hostage-taking -- but I have to drive to Capital City, fill out some forms to get 'em out. Could you possibly watch the kids tonight? | Uh, gee, I'd really love to want to help you, Flanders, but uh, Marge was taken prisoner in the... Holy Land and uh... |
Please, please, please! | I'll have to ask her. |
Hey, Dad, how come you're wearing a tuxedo? | Going to that fancy waterfront party tomorrow. |
Why you wearing it now? | Oh, it's like a rent-a-car, son. You get all the mileage you can. Then ball it up and cram it through the mail slot. |
And Dad, you look totally classy. You could be Abe Lincoln's father's boss! | Can you see the pie stains? |
Dad, help me out! | Take it like a man, boy. And do everything your little sister says. |
Uh, I don't think we should be driving here. The mayor's yelling at us. | All right, all right, geez. Okay, honey, remember where we're parked. |
Oh, it's so beautiful! This is what I imagine Paris must be like! | You've never been? |
I'm so honored that Springfield has been chosen to host all these upscale chain stores. I guess this makes us "yuppies," huh, Homie? | Nah, I'm really more of a slacker. |
Oooh, Malaria Zone! That's where all the explorers shop. | Look, Marge! A restaurant owned by celebrities! I always wanted to be a celebrity! |
Isn't that clever? It looks like a Cadillac drove right into the building. | Wow, even Moe's moved to fancy new digs. |
Oh, I do. I'm just a little concerned about the kids. Maybe I should call. | Oh, come on Marge, relax! Lisa's in charge. She's the responsible one. |
And she is on DRUGS!!! | Give me the drugs, Lisa. |
I'm going down to Moe's for a coupla beers. | I'll come with you. |
No! No more drinking! I'm tired of looking like the world's worst mother. | Oh, honey, you're not the world's worst mother. What about that freezer lady in Georgia? |
But what's the solution? Are we so bereft of ideas that we must revive the antiquated notion of prohibition? Channel Six says yes. | Prohibition! They tried that in the movies and it didn't work. I predict this is the last we'll be hearing about prohibition. |
Dateline: Springfield. With prohibition back in force, sobriety's peaceful slumber was shattered by its noisy neighbor: the speakeasy! | Glad you're finally back in business, Moe. |
Hey, hi, can I arrest any of you people for anything? | No. |
Sounds like you have a plan. | Maybe I do, Chief. Maybe I do... |
Sounds like you have a plan. | C'mon, boy, think of a plan. |
Whoa, bonanza! Let's load it up before the rats regroup. | Right. Now remember, don't mention this to anyone. Not your mother, not Rex Banner, not anyone. |
Yeah. Look at him trying to aim that stupid gun. | Hang on, son! |
Dad! Knocking over a gravestone is bad luck! | Really? I heard good. |
What happened to you, Homer? And what have you done to the car? | Nothin'. |
I don't think it had broken axles before. | Before! Before! You're living in the past, Marge! Quit living in the past. |
That's funny... I used to be able to go down there. | Going bowling. Not back - avenge deaths. |
Why do you have so many bowling balls? | Oh, I'm not going to lie to you, Marge. So long! |
Beer! | I can explain, Marge! Please let me explain! Oh, why won't you let me explain!!! |
You're the one the papers have been talking about. That mysterious "Beer Baron" who's been supplying Springfield with alcohol! How have you been getting away with this? | Well -- and I can explain, remember -- I fill the balls with beer that I found at the dump, then I bowl them and some underground pipes take them into Moe's. |
Homer, that's very clever! | Huh? |
Well, it is. I've known your father since high school and this is the cleverest thing he's ever done. Besides, he's only breaking a silly, two-hundred-year-old law... | It is silly, Marge. And look at all the money I'm making! |
You're out there somewhere, Beer Baron. And I'll find you. | No you won't. |
Yes, I will. | Won't. |
Dateline: Springfield. The elusive Beer Baron continued to thumb his nose at authorities. Swaggering about in a garish new hat, he seemed to say: "Look at me, Rex Banner. I have a new hat." | Hey, boy, get crackin'! Moe upped his order to twenty balls a night! |
Uh, Dad... | Call me Beer Baron. |
All the beer from the landfill is gone, Beer Baron. We're out of business. | But I can't be out of beer. I'm the Beer Baron! |
Homer! My customers are soberin' up, and they ain't gonna stay for the ambiance! You gotta get me more beer! | Sorry, I'm all out. Wha-- How about some turpentine? Or caulk? Delicious caulk... |
Look, find it, buy it, make it, I don't care. Just get me some booze, and fast! | "Make it," eh? |
Now you're making your own alcohol? That's even more illegal than what you were doing before! | Remember, honey, we're disobeying an unjust law here. We're patriots. Like... all those people in jail. |
Tubby? Oh, yes, Tubby! | Hey, Banner, how's it hangin'? |
One of the stills -- | Uh... nothing, Marge. I think it must have been that bean I had for dinner. |
One of the stills -- | Ka-boom! Blam! Oh, excuse me again, dear. |
Homer, there's no point in pretending you're making those noises. Your homemade liquor is exploding again. | What, dear? |
Homer, there's no point in pretending you're making those noises. Your homemade liquor is exploding again. | Ka-BLAMMO. |
You've made some money and had the fun of being a wanted criminal. Why not quit now, while you're ahead? | Boom. |
You've made some money and had the fun of being a wanted criminal. Why not quit now, while you're ahead? | I'll be right back. |
You've made some money and had the fun of being a wanted criminal. Why not quit now, while you're ahead? | It's hot! |
You've made some money and had the fun of being a wanted criminal. Why not quit now, while you're ahead? | I thought about what you said, honey, and I've decided to quit. |
Stick 'em up. | Geez, what happened to you, Wiggum? You look terrible. |
Yeah, never mind how I look. You gonna give me the money or not? | Well, I don't think so. You don't even have a trigger on that thing. |
Yeah, I had to sell the trigger and most of the handle to feed my family. C'mon, give me the dough. I can throw this pretty hard. | Poor Wiggum. |
Poor Wiggum. | I'll bet you really hate Rex Banner, huh? |
Um, who? | The guy who took your job. |
Oh, yeah... More than anything in the world! | Hey, how would you like to show him up by beating him at his own game? |
..then, the liquor-filled bowling balls travelled through a network of underground pipes, finally emerging at a nearby speakeasy. | You forgot one thing, Wiggum. |
Yeah? What's that? | I filled the balls with a funnel. |
That was a very sweet thing you did for poor Wiggum, but what's going to happen to you? | Aw, probably just a slap on the wrist... |
...And he who shall violate this law, shall be punished by catapult. | Last time I help you. |
On behalf of the city, I'd like to apologize, and ask how long it will take for you to flood this town with booze again. | Well, sorry, I'm not in that business anymore. |
And so, one town's brief flirtation with prohibition ended in a joyous remarriage to Lady Liquor! Congratulations, Springfield! We wish you the very best! | To alcohol! The cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems! |
Three and a half. We get beat up, but we get an explanation. | Mayday! Mayday! |
Oh, my goodness. | Wait a minute. Bart's teacher's name is "Krabappel?" I've been calling her "Crandall." Why didn't someone tell me? Oh, I've been making an idiot out of myself. |
Homer, Bart's up there! | Give me that! Bart, this is your father. Do you know where the remote is? I looked all over the house. |
Did you check your pocket? | It was in... It was in my pocket. |
Ich esse; er isst; wir essen. | When? When? Ich bin hungrig! |
Homer, this is yours. | Yes! My precious "CarTOONS!" "Who pumped Ethyl?!" |
My name is... Santa's Little Helper. | Marge, mail's here. |
And for Homer -- | Wow! A golf shirt! With my corporate logo on it! |
And for Homer -- | Oh, it smells like salmon, too! Thanks, boy! |
And so handsome! Bart, I just love him! | Hi Marge, hi Santa's Little Helper, hi kid -- hey, that's not Santa's Little Helper. |
Uh, to the best of my recollection, yes. | Wow, I gotta start going to church. |
What've you got for me, boy? Hey, this says we should feed him lots of eggs and olive oil to ensure a glossy coat. | Oh, yeah, a dog like this you have to feed every day. |
"Some call it the dog that never sleeps, though it actually does -- while jogging." | Geez, that dog has more education than I do. He's some kinda super dog. Hey, where'd he go? |
Oh, it's against the house rule... Oh, I guess just this once. | Oh, I don't know about this dog. He's kinda... snooty. |
Homer, are you wearing a tie to impress Laddie? | Do you think he noticed? |
Where's Santa's Little Helper? | Who? |
Well, we wrecked the first dog. We've got to treat this one right. Bart, why don't you take Laddie for another walk. | No! Bart had his turn, let me! I can't resist his charms. |
Hey, that is one fine-looking animal you've got there. | Wow, TV's Kent Brockman. |
Ha, ha. Hey, this fellow's not available to stud, is he? | You want some puppies, eh, Mr. Brockman? |
"Time for a walk." Again? We gotta find out where he's keeping these. | I'd take him, but those cards are non-transferable. |
Oh, Maggie, you got oatmeal all over. Homer, would you clean her off? | Can do. |
Oh, Maggie, you got oatmeal all over. Homer, would you clean her off? | Laddie! C'mere, boy! Who want to lick a messy baby? |
Oh, Maggie, you got oatmeal all over. Homer, would you clean her off? | Laddie? |
No. He just wasn't the right dog for me. I'm sure he'll be happy as a police dog. | He better know how to keep his mouth shut. |
We can't. He's not in a kennel. I gave him away, too, and I don't know where he is. | You gave both dogs away?! You know how I feel about giving! |
I'm sorry, I know it's wrong. I messed everything up and now I don't have any dogs at all. | There, there, shut up, boy. We'll just get you a new dog. |
I don't want a new dog. I want Santa's Little Helper. | Well, crying isn't going to bring him back, unless your tears smell like dog food. So you can either sit there, crying and eating can after can of dog food until your tears smell enough like dog food to make your dog come back, or you can go out there and find your dog! |
The bad dog. | Oh good. |
Mom, Mom, you're mixing polyethylene with polyurethane! | Marge! |
I could still use more paper. | Hey, I know where there's lots of paper! |
Dad! You're not supposed to have fun recycling. This is serious. | Oh, okay. |
Well, let's get out the old stock ticker and have a look... | Can Lenny have it? |
Homer, you didn't tell me Mr. Burns went broke and lost the nuclear power plant. | Now I can't remember every little thing that happens in my day. |
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