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Go! Go! Go! | So-ho, the rats seem happy. |
Homer, that crazy lady who lives in our trash pile attacked me again. | That's not the way she tells it. |
Homer, that crazy lady who lives in our trash pile attacked me again. | Uh, it's like the measles. Good to get it out of the way. |
Yeah Dad, you're always telling me and Bart to apologize. | Yeah, but I'm always secretly disappointed when you do. Anyway, I think those garbage men are starting to crack. |
I think you're startin' to crack. | Apologize for that remark. |
No way. | Attaboy! |
Oh Homer, you didn't beat City Hall! They picked up our trash because I wrote a letter of apology to the Sanitation Commissioner and signed your name. Period. | You signed my name? I feel so violated. |
You've signed my name lots of times. | But this isn't like a loan application or a will -- you signed away my dignity. And I'm going to get it back. Lisa, do I have my pants on? |
Yes. | Perfect. |
Here's your apology back, Mr. Simpson, and I'm sorry we couldn't work this out. | Don't come off all high and mighty with me, Patterson. You can't scare me, with your office and your desk and your lamp. |
I'm not tryin' to scare you. I'm just tryin' to get my work done, here. | Oh, oh, oh, I get it. Put on a big show for the cameras. |
What cameras? Why are you still here? | I came to fight City Hall. I wanna shake things up, Patterson. Stir up some controversy. Rattle a few cages. |
Hey, stop that! | You'll never silence me! I'm the last angry man, Patterson! A crusader for the little guy! |
Leave the bird alone! | Never! |
Look Simpson, I've been elected by the voters of this city sixteen years in a row, so they must think I'm doing a damn good job. | You want to know what I think? |
No! Nobody wants to hear the nonsensical ravings of a loud-mouthed malcontent! | Well, we'll see about that. |
Hey, everybody, vote for my Dad, Homer Simpson. If you don't he'll beat us. | Why you little... No one's gonna beat ya, son. You're gonna get such a beating. |
So, Homer, if we vote for you, whaddaya gonna do different? | What am I, the answer man? Just vote for me. |
Yea, I know. It's a peace of mind issue you know? | These old geezers just don't get it. It's time to rock the vote. |
Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Can I help you? | Potato man. |
Okay, camera two... Uh, excuse me, this is a restricted area. | Take a hike, Kojak. |
What the bloody hell? | Quiet, you! I know you youngsters wanna see these rockin' rockers. But I also know you care about the race for Sanitation Commissioner. So, let me give ya the 911... |
Why should they vote for you? | That's a good question, Bono. 'Cause I'd be the most wack, tripped-out Sanitation Commissioner ever! Can ya dig it? |
Ah, gee, you're kinda all over the place there, Homer. You need to focus here. You gotta think hard and come up with a slogan that appeals to all the lazy slobs out there. | Can't someone else do it? |
"Can't someone else do it?" That's perfect! | It is? |
Yeah. Now get out there and spread that message to the people! | Woo hoo! |
Whoa, whoa, hey, you didn't pay for the beer. | Can't someone else do it? |
I would deem it excellent. | Uh, okay, it's excellent. But aren't you tired of waking up early and dragging the garbage to the curb? |
Oh man, you got that right. / Yeah. / I guess so. / It's so annoying in the morning/ Yes. / Uh-huh. | Aren't you tired of having to peel that last snotty Kleenex from the bottom of your wastebasket? |
I'll say. | Well then... |
I'll say. | Well then, can't someone else do it? |
Hey, yeah! | And can't someone else scoop out that nasty kitty litter? |
Yeah! / Someone else! / Someone else! / Yeah! | Well, Ray Patterson thinks you should do it! Animals are crapping in our houses, and we're picking it up. Did we lose a war? That's not America. That's not even Mexico. |
Yeah! / Someone else! / Someone else! / Yeah! | Don't you deserve better than the best? |
Yeah! | Who should handle all your dirty jobs? |
Sorry I'm late, everyone. Somebody tampered with my brakes. | Well, then you shoulda been early. |
Oh, c'mon, people. This man has promised round the clock trash pick-up. That's impossible! | Not if we hire more men. And my men will do all your messy jobs. They'll wash your car, scrub your shower, air out your stinkables... |
I can't believe what I'm hearing! | Well, then you'd better turn up your hearing aid, Pops. |
"Pops?" I'm only two years older than you! | Do we want old man Patterson here with his finger on the button? |
What button? What the hell are you talkin' about?! | What-what-what. What button? Where am I? Who took my false teeth? |
All right, fine. If you want an experienced public servant, vote for me. But if you wanna believe a bunch of crazy promises about garbage men cleaning your gutters and waxing your car -- then by all means, vote for this sleazy lunatic. | Woo hoo! |
Aren't you gonna buy it, Dad? | Fifty cents? Not likely. |
Int. city hall - day) | Hey, Ray. Cleanin' out the old office, eh? |
If I hadn't already packed my letter opener, I'd give you such a stabbing... | Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa Ray. Are we gonna let politics get in the way of our friendship? |
Friendship? You told people I lure children into my gingerbread house. | Yeah, that was just a lie. |
Simpson, the American people have never tolerated incompetence in their public officials. You are going to crash and burn, my fat-headed friend. | See? We're still friends. C'mon, give us a cuddle. |
Simpson, the American people have never tolerated incompetence in their public officials. You are going to crash and burn, my fat-headed friend. | Jean-Paul, how are the new uniforms? Do they match the suede boots? Beautiful. Did you get the new trucks? Are they amphibious? Well, there's only one way to find out. We can always buy more. |
Wow, Dad, you're really working hard. | Yes, I gotta work hard, honey. Daddy made a lot of crazy promises. |
Simpson, you idiot, you spent your entire year's budget in a month. Your department's broke. | Oh no! Wait, I think I've got the perfect solution. |
How could you spend four point six million dollars in a month? | They let me sign checks with a stamp, Marge. A stamp! |
Int. town hall - hallway - continuous) | 'Mornin', boys. |
My men ain't workin' another minute till we get paid. | Will cash be okay? |
I'll have to say drugs, too. | Close, but you're way off. |
Good God, Homer! You're turning our wonderful little town into America's trash-hole. | Marge... ix-nay on the ash-hole-tray. |
But Dad, you can't cram garbage under Springfield forever. | Sure I can, Honey-kitten. |
What the hell is that? | Uh, nothin'. |
What the hell is that? | Now, uh, you were saying how great I was...? |
And all those opposed to horse-whipping Homer Simpson? | Nay! |
I can't believe it's come to this. | Come to what? |
Moving the whole town five miles down the road! It's crazy! | Yeah, it's somethin', all right. |
So we transplant the town. We're just gonna trash the new Springfield, too. | Yeah, but whaddaya gonna do? If you need me, I'll be at Moe's. |
So we transplant the town. We're just gonna trash the new Springfield, too. | Hi Moe. |
Wowwww! McBain has really buffed up. You could grate cheese on those abs. | Yeah, but can he do this? |
Anyway, it's time for the church picnic. | What? They had a picnic last week. |
No they didn't. You just brought a bucket of chicken to church. | If God didn't want us to eat in church, he would have made gluttony a sin. |
Aw nuts! | Ooo, still plenty of parking. |
Nice to see you, Homer. | Yeah, out of the way, whoever you are. You're blocking the food. |
Oh, you'd be surprised. He gets pretty competitive when he's drinking. C'mon, Dad. We're playing Capture the Flag! | Sorry, son, Daddy's down for the day. Why don't you go capture me some more potato salad? |
But Rod picked his Dad. It's a matter of family honor. | Flanders is playing? Why didn't you say so? |
Okay, Dad, they've got our flag guarded pretty good... | I agree. Let's surrender. |
No, wait. I have a plan. But I'll need your underpants. | Hmm... All right, but don't lose them. They're my only pair. |
Get him! | Stupid kids... |
Tag tag tag tag tag! | Time out... t... time out... |
Oh, I don't think he can get up. Let's egg him! | Oh, stop it! |
Me? I'm not the one who puts butter in your coffee. | Yeah, well, I've humiliated my son for the last time. I'm going to get into shape. |
Whatever you say, sweetie. | No, I mean it. I'm really serious this time. |
Okay, honey. Okay. I'll start taking in all your slacks. | Okay, boy, I want you to keep this exercise thing under your hat. That way I won't be embarrassed if I fail. |
So what will it be, Mr. Simpson? Your usual bucket of ice cream covered with miniature pies? | Uhh... Don't you have anything healthy here? |
Oh, well, we have some low-salt candy bars and some reduced-fat soda. And our beef jerky is now nearly rectum-free. | Hey, these Power Sauce bars look pretty healthy. |
Oh yes, that is a new item. No bar contains more applesauce. | Hmm... A bushel of apples packed in each bar, plus a secret ingredient that unleashes the awesome power of apples. Wow. |
Excuse me. You're doing this station all backwards. Let me show you how to do it like a man. | Ranier Wolfcastle! Oh, I love your movies and your Power Sauce bars and your taut, rippling-- |
Push! Harder! Go past the max! Reach over the top! Master your ass! | Wow, Wolfie. Two months ago I didn't know what the word "dumbbell" meant. This place is great. |
And your shirt! | I have been working out secretly at night. And look at me now! |
Oh my goodness gracious! | Heh, heh, heh. Go ahead. Try and grab some flab. Go on. Ju-- |
Oh my goodness gracious! | No, not there. |
Oh my goodness gracious! | Not there either. Over here. |
I've got some! | No, here. Try my foot. No, not that foot. Just feel my biceps. |
Whoaa... | Well, whaddaya think of your old man now, son? |
My casserole is not filth. Eat it. | Look at you people. Bart's a tub, Lisa's weak as a little girl, and Maggie doesn't seem to be growing at all. |
Now that's just non-- | You too, Marge. If you toned up a little, you'd probably get a lot more action. |
Homer, stop insulting us and eat your filth. Food. I mean, food. | Sorry, I only eat food in bar form. When you concentrate food, you unleash its awesome power, I'm told. That's why I'm compressing five pounds of spaghetti into one handy mouth-sized bar. |
Homer, stop insulting us and eat your filth. Food. I mean, food. | Hm. |
Homer, stop insulting us and eat your filth. Food. I mean, food. | Hospital, please. |
You know Rainier Wolfcastle? | Yeah, he helped me blast through the burn and ride the zone. |
He eats fifty dollars' worth of Power Sauce bars a day. | Overshoot the extreme, max the envelope, and so on. |
Hm. Congratulations, sir. | Huh? |
You're gonna be the first man to climb the Murderhorn. | I am? |
Son! Don't go up that mountain! You'll die up there! Just like I did! | You? Did? |
I fell 8,000 feet onto a pile of jagged rocks. 'Course folks were tougher in those days. I was jitterbuggin' that very night. But that skunk McAllister was never seen again. | If you're trying to scare me, it won't work. I'm one hundred percent focused on my goal. Hey, my hat has ear flaps! |
Homer, you're the world's greatest hero. Do you owe it all to Power Sauce? | That's right, Brad and Neil. I only eat Power Sauce -- the bar with Apple-saucicity. |
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