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I don't. | Okay, Mr. Difficult. How about a teen sex romp where you and your buddies are always trying to get some? |
I don't. | No, wait. A ghost who wins the lottery! You could be the ghost or the lottery commissioner. Ooh, what about Indiana Jones? Does anyone own the rights to that? |
I don't. | Hey, Mel. I fell out. |
Thank you for coming. | Thank you for getting me out of work. |
Your son is a ravenous demon, relentlessly gnawing at all that's good and true. | Yeah, he's somethin' else, all right. |
But worst of all, he drags down the grades of anyone who sits near him. Just look at this pattern. | Hey, that looks like Bart. |
How should I know? The point is, A.D.D. makes children restless and easily distracted. | Hi, Marge. It's me, Homer. |
... Unless you're willing to try a radical, untested, potentially dangerous... | Candy bar? |
Good Lord. He's gotten into the Pep Closet! | I'd say he's coming out of the Pep Closet. |
Check this out. | They become your slaves... |
How will we get Bart to take these? | It's all about trust, honey. |
Medication? | Some special helpers that'll make you a good boy. |
I don't want to take drugs. | Sure you do. All your favorite stars have used drugs: Brett Butler.... Tim Allen... |
Tommy Lee... | Andy Dick... |
He's just flamboyant. | Yeah, and I'm a size four. |
Dad, I admit I have some problems, but drugs aren't the answer. | Why you little...! |
Nice try, Homer. | Just take one bite. If you're not one hundred per cent different... |
Nice try, Homer. | Ow! |
Nice try, Homer. | Geez, what's the big deal? Look, I'll even eat some. |
Nice try, Homer. | Now-- |
All right. I'll do it for you. | Way to guilt him, Marge! |
No, but here's a book called "Chicken Soup for the Loser" that gave Bill Buckner the courage to open a chain of laundromats. | Hmm. My career has kinda lost momentum... |
I think it's the bright blue pants. I mean, you're not on a golf course. | Well, I have been thinking about making them into cut-offs... |
That's gonna save all kindsa travel time. | You know it. Plus he gave me this appointment dealy. |
That's gonna save all kindsa travel time. | Got my whole week in there. |
A guy could do great things with a gadget like that. | Well, if you want one, they sell 'em at... |
That's right. You stay on the ball, you stay on the wall. | He's gone from Goofus to Gallant, and we owe it all to mind-bending pills. |
Bart's so well-behaved now... maybe you and I could have a night out! | Ooh, let's go to the waterpark. My ten-year ban ended yesterday. |
I was thinking of something a little more... adult. | Oh... Marge! |
And then afterwards... | Really? With butterscotch on it? |
All right, girls, tops off. It's showtime! | Marge, this is the greatest gift any wife has ever given her husband. |
I heard about a new bar where men dance with men. Doesn't that sound adorable? | Well, sure, if it's true. |
I'm so glad you're here. Bart's really acting funny. | Ray J. funny... or O.J. funny? |
It can read your electronic organizer from space. | Even mine? |
It can read your electronic organizer from space. | Hey, I had Lenny's name on that! |
Who else? Major League Baseball. | Maarge. I think Bart's gone crazy! |
Aagghh! | Hey, you found my needlenose pliers. |
Any other strange behavior? | Wake up, honey! |
Any other strange behavior? | He quit blinking. He says that's when they get ya. |
This carboxyl group sometimes causes problems. | After we trusted you... |
No! | Uh-oh. Somebody's gonna have a tummyache. |
Oh, my little guy's out there in the hot sun without his sombrero. | We should have paid more attention to these side-effects. It's all here -- erratic behavior, paranoia, diarrhea... |
I don't think he has diarrhea. | But how do we know, Marge? How do we know? |
Homer, you're supposed to be hunting for Bart! | I'm on top of it. |
What a day. First the drinking fountain squirts me, and now this! | My God, is she brave. Standing up to that freaked-out junkie. |
Dad, that junkie is your son! | Why don't you just tell everybody? |
Not the church! Jesus lives there! | The frame store! You monster! |
Hey, at least I got to see some cool colors. | And Mark McGwire gave you an autographed bat. |
Why is the zero made out of glass? | Who cares? That man can really slug. |
Dad, it's great that you volunteered to drive -- but how did you get out of work? | Don't worry, sweetie. Daddy's got it covered. |
Dingus! | God bless you, Nelson Muntz. |
I'm no hero. I just like to hit people in the head. | Hey, you , you cut me off! Ah, yeah, you! |
Dad, that's an ambulance. | Oh, right. ambulance! Think you're so big with your siren, and your letters on backwards. |
Dad, that's an ambulance. | Here we are kids -- the zoo. |
Welcome to the Springfield Shopper, established in 1883. The newspaper was founded by Johnny Newspaperseed... a fourteen-year-old boy who roamed America, founding newspapers. | If he's so smart, how come he's dead? |
Check it out, Dad. You can print out the headline from the day you were born. | Ooo... pointless nostalgia. |
Check it out, Dad. You can print out the headline from the day you were born. | I'd sure hate to be him. |
Who are you and why are you ruining my retirement party? | I'll have you know I wandered off from the tour. |
Well, at least you like the food. | Oh, I like food all right. |
Well, at least you like the food. | I LIKE PIZZA / I LIKE BAGELS / I LIKE HOT DOGS, WITH MUSTARD AND BEER... |
I get the picture. | I'LL EAT EGGPLANT / I COULD EVEN EAT A BABY DEER... LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA... WHO'S THAT BABY DEER ON THE LAWN, THERE... |
Enough already! | Sorry. |
Hey, listen, I just had a thought. We're looking for a new food critic. Someone who doesn't immediately pooh-pooh everything he eats. | No, it usually takes a few hours. |
Look, I'd like to give you a tryout. Write a 500 word sample review. If it passes muster, we'll put you on staff. | Thanks for the chance. You won't never regret this, Mr. Editing Guy! |
You know, Homie, the "E" doesn't work on that typewriter. | We don't need no stinkin' "E". Restaurant Review... No. Eatery Evaluation... No. Food box... Go or no go? By Homer... No. Earl. No. Bill Simpson! |
This is a joke, right? I mean, this is the stupidest thing I've ever read. | What's wrong with it? |
Well, you keep using words like "pasketti" and "momatoes," you make numerous threatening references to the U.N., and at the end, you repeat the words "Screw Flanders" over and over again... | It was so hard to get to 500 words... |
Aw, look, Homer, I'm sorry, but... | No, no, you're right. It's a joke. Everyone laugh at the funny joke . I'll be right back with the real review. |
Well, we went to Paté Labelle last week. How 'bout that? | Great. Now, let me think... the food was... not undelicious... |
"The food is delicious." | That's brilliant. And they have this sweet, sweet chocolate mousse -- really, the only word for it is . |
Hm. What's the English equivalent for ? I'd say... transcendent. | How about groin-grabbingly transcendent? |
Uh, I don't think so. | We make a good team. A groin-grabbingly good team! |
497... 498 words. Hmph. | How about "screw Flanders"? |
"Bon Appetit." | Aw, they're both good. |
Not bad... not bad at all. We're gonna run this on page one! Of Section H-2. | Woo hoo! Stop the presses! |
Not bad... not bad at all. We're gonna run this on page one! Of Section H-2. | Okay, start the presses! |
That takes four hours! | Whatever. I'll be at Moe's. |
This is so exciting, Homie. Your first restaurant review. | Marge, shh! It's important that no one know that I'm a food critic. |
If anything appears to be moving, that's just freshness. Arrr. | Can ya believe it, Marge? This job is the greatest -- they're paying me to eat! |
Yeah, now if you could just get somebody to pay you for scratching your butt, we'll be on easy street. | Why you little... |
And there's that awful script from The Cable Guy! | Let me see. |
And there's that awful script from The Cable Guy! | Stupid script! Nearly wrecked Jim Carrey's career! You-- I'm gonna... What? |
The food is exquisite... | And the view is... beautiful... inspirational... nauseating. |
I never knew everything was so good. | Look, Marge, I'm making a difference in people's lives! |
Hey Homer, c'mere! | Are you gonna fire me for swiping office supplies? |
No. | Whew. |
Some of your fellow critics wanted to meet you ... this is Garth Trelawny, TV critic... | Why, you... You made them cancel "Platypus Man!" |
Homer! This is our Theater Critic, Daphne Beaumont. | And the Cosby Mysteries! That show had limitless possibilities! |
Homer, please! | Sorry. |
Jamie Kilday, farm supply critic. Just got back from the gopher poison show in Paris. Let me tell you something, people. The days of clubbing them with a baseball bat are over. | For you, perhaps. |
Listen, we've been meaning to have a talk with you about your reviews. Everything's a rave! Nine thumbs up? What the hell is that? | I've given out my share of bad reviews. |
Well, the only bad review you gave was to a slice of pizza you found under the couch. | It lost some points 'cause it had a Hot Wheel on it. |
Good Lord, man, you're a critic! You don't have to like everything. E.g., my latest review: "We see John Deere has come out with this year's line of rototillers. Surprise surprise, they're green. I say it's time to send John Deere a 'Dear John.'" | Oh, that's classic. |
You don't have to patronize me. | Okay. |
It's not!? | Hm. This pea soup is as weak as the acting, and nowhere near as hammy. |
Dad, that's so mean. | The other critics told me to be mean. And you should always give in to peer pressure. |
But what if someone bad tells me to... | Always. |
I chop-a you good! | Well, I hope you cut me better than you did these string beans. Hm, I seem to be missing a piece of my ear. Touché! |
Who wants pork chops? | Mm. |
Who wants pork chops? | Sorry, Marge. I'm afraid this gets my lowest rating ever, seven thumbs up. |
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