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Well, if Barney's that important to you, you've gotta work it out. Old friends stick together, like O.J. and A.C., or the Falcon and the Snowman. | Oh, why can't I have a nickname? |
Oh, hello Homer. | Barney. |
Beer, huh? | That's right. |
Enjoy. | That I will. |
Then we agree. | You keep thinkin' that. |
I will. | Me too. |
Good day, then. | Good day, then is right. |
Ta. | Ta-ta. |
Now dance, rummy! | Okay. |
Hiya, Moe. | Well, if it isn't Little Miss "I'm not wasting my life anymore." Which he is. |
Fire has broken out on Mount Springfield, trapping two youngsters and their camera. | Oh, no! That's Bart and Lisa! |
ext. moe's - continuous) | Barney, you gotta fly us up there and save my kids! |
I can't. I've never flown solo! | Barney... |
I can't. I've never flown solo! | The call is from heroism. Will you accept the charges? |
I know, I know! I haven't learned right turns yet. | Look out! |
Beer. That's what I need. | Barney, no! Don't! |
Yes! I need it! | No! You've gotta be sober for this. Gimme that! |
Yes! I need it! | Ugh, it's warm. |
You can't drink 'em all. | Oh, yes I can! |
You can't drink 'em all. | Gimme that! |
You can't drink 'em all. | I won't let you give up now, when you've worked so hard to be the greatest pal in the world. I love you. Let's not lose touch after graduation. |
You brave man. You took six silver bullets for me. | Stay away from my wife! |
Dad! | Hi, kids! |
Hang on! I'll throw you a ladder! | Get off! Get off! |
Dad, help! | All right, I'm comin'. |
You did it, Dad! | You can't prove I did it. |
No, you saved our lives. | I could do a lotta things if I had some money. |
Well, I'm glad we're friends again. | Yeah. So what do you call this stuff? |
A double tall mocha latte. | It's not bad. |
Here's the mail, Dad. That'll be three dollars for on-couch delivery. | ...And three makes three. |
This isn't real money. It's printed by the Montana Militia. | It'll be real soon enough. |
This isn't real money. It's printed by the Montana Militia. | Ooh, my first issue of "Self-Test Monthly." Finally I get to find out what makes me tick. |
I'm betting it's hunger and rage. | Yeah, but in what ratio? |
I'm betting it's hunger and rage. | "Are you a good driver?" |
I'm betting it's hunger and rage. | "Yes." "Are you a good lover?" "Yes." Oh, I'm doin' great! |
Dad, those are just the names of the quizzes. You're supposed to open the magazine. | My way is easier. |
Why don't you be the quizmaster and ask other people the questions? | Quizmaster, yes... That would entertain me briefly. |
Well, it was a little insensitive giving me a sex test, seeing that my wife just passed away. | No way. When? |
Six months ago. You were at the funeral. You fell into the grave. | Oh, yeah. I saw a gopher. What a day! |
No, no, no, Nick. He's so good to his mother. | According to this you're both idiots. |
Homie, for God's sakes, it's two a.m. | Fine. I'll take the next quiz. "How Long Will You Live?" |
Homie, for God's sakes, it's two a.m. | "In an average week, how many braised ribs do you eat?" Marge, do you think that counts honey-braised? |
I don't know. I'm trying to sleep. | Okay, non-smoker... add eight years. So according to this I'll live to be... 42! Oh, that's horrible! I won't even live to see my children die! |
Now what's wrong? | I've only got three more years to live! |
Well, maybe you added it wrong. Let me add it... | See?! And these quizzes are never wrong, Marge. They're put together by the finest scientists in the magazine business. |
Oh, honey, don't panic. If you just made a few lifestyle changes... | No! |
Oh, honey, don't panic. If you just made a few lifestyle changes... | Can't sleep. Gonna die. Can't sleep. Gonna die. |
Maybe you should see a doctor, Homie. A head doctor. | I'm not crazy. It's the TV that's crazy. Aren't you, TV? |
The crisis? Charlie Bluhdorn's birthday. The solution? A snappy banner. Out comes the phone, in flies Bobby Towne. And six drafts later, I had myself a party. | You see? Gibberish. All gibberish. |
Well, we've got a Soloflex down at H.Q. Anyway, everything looks great, Mr. Burns. I can't find a single violation or employee acting strangely. | You gotta hide me. Death is after me! And I don't entirely trust these cowboys. |
Of course not. He's just a harmless maniac, here to remind us of the precious gift of sanity. B... Oh, God! What's he doing? | A mother can't die. And I'm a mother. See? |
You hate your father, don't you? | Sometimes. But the guy I really hate is your father. |
I shouldn't have brought that up. I was just venting. Anyhoo, I think your fear of death is causing your insomnia, which is provoking your erratic behavior. | Why isn't my baby gaining weight? |
Because it's made of plastic. | I see... |
What you need is a good, long rest. I suggest Florida. | Florida? But that's America's wang. |
Quiet, you two! You know your father's had a breakdown. | My pockets hurt. |
Sweet dreams. | Uh, could you just uh... shut off the... |
We got Kid Rock comin' up for all you mosh monkeys. | Wooo! I like mu-sic! |
Yo, yo, straight out of Detroit, y'all, it's the J-O-E to the C! Let's rock the party with Kid Rock! | Oh, no, it's a lost child! Don't worry, folks. I'll tackle him. |
MY NAME IS KIIIIDDDD KID ROCK! | BAWITDABA / BANANA FANA / OOGA CHOCKA / ETC. |
But this ain't no forty-ounce curb. So, we're gonna need forty gallons, y'all! | All for Homer... All for Homer... |
Yo, let's waste that biatch! | "Biatch?" Moi? |
No, sir... Please don't tell Mama. | They called you a pig, Sheriff. |
Oh, thank goodness. Where were you? | Guess how many boobs I saw today, Marge? Fifteen! |
Nah, boys will be boys. I reckon he was just blowin' off a little steam. | Doesn't he talk funny? |
Nah, boys will be boys. I reckon he was just blowin' off a little steam. | My insomnia, it's gone! Check it out, Marge. I'm sane again! And I owe it all to... Spring Break! |
Nah, boys will be boys. I reckon he was just blowin' off a little steam. | Whoo! I'm an animal! |
Nah, boys will be boys. I reckon he was just blowin' off a little steam. | Hey, where is everybody? |
The world looks to us -- the college students -- for leadership. | Fine. Be nerds. I'll find some people who know the true meaning of the words par-tay. |
Dad, look out! | LOOK OUT FOR WHAT? |
THE GI-ANT GATOR! | THE GI-ANT... |
You killed Captain Jack! You in a heap o' trouble, son. | You'll have to catch me first. |
You killed Captain Jack! You in a heap o' trouble, son. | Okay, I'll go quietly. |
Well don't you worry, darlin'. I got some baby-cuffs in the station. | Look. This is our chance. |
Well don't you worry, darlin'. I got some baby-cuffs in the station. | Let's go! |
You can't drive, Dad. He's got your license. | Well, I'm gonna try anyway. |
You can't drive, Dad. He's got your license. | It worked! It's a miracle! |
Pull over! | There's no good place! |
There's lots of good places! What about over there? | No shade! |
There's lots of good places! What about over there? | Perfect. |
Homer no. You'll kill us all. | Or die trying... |
Dad, what do we do?! | The only thing we can do. Sit tight, and try to get some sleep. |
Hey, where is Dad? | Rise and shine, everybody. |
You went to the snack car? | Yeah, but first I talked to the engineer. He said there's a procedure for dealing with events of this nature. |
This family has hit a new low. We're on the run from the law, totally lost, no car, no money, no clean clothes... And it's all your fault. | I love being married. |
A diner!? | That's perfect! We can hide out here 'til the heat's off. |
I like your honesty. You're hired. And you two haven't said a word. I like that. You're hired. | Woo hoo! |
No thanks. | More hashbrowns, sugar? |
Stop that. | But I was just... |
Scat. | ...gonna try to... |
Go on now. | ...knock you out... |
Too hot to bicker, I reckon. | You know, killing that gator was the best decision I ever made. |
Got that right. / Durn tootin'. / Boy howdy. | Yep, this place is great. And someday, when Lisa and Bart get married, it'll all be theirs. |
You mean, when they marry other people. | Okay, but I ain't payin' for two weddin's. |
You just relax. I'll have you in jail by supper time. | You'd better. |
Well, first up is the State of Florida vs. The Simpson Family. | Your Honor, I'd like to represent myself. Drunken hicks of the jury... |
You hear me? | Uhh... no. |
Simpson, we got a problem. The jazz pianist didn't show up. | Well, what am I supposed to do? |
Well, we're still welcome in North Dakota and Arizona. | Arizona smells funny. |
I can streamline any procedure, except this thing you call "love." | Poor Cyborganizer |
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