CHORUS: ♪ The Simpsons ♪
(theme music playing)
(bell ringing)
(siren blaring)
(beeping)
(playing the blues)
(tires screeching)
(honking horn)
D'oh! (screams)
(all screaming)
(all singing) ♪ We're proud to be teachers ♪
♪ Knowledge is our game ♪
♪ But we'd sell our mothers ♪
♪ For 15 minutes of... ♪
♪ Fame! ♪
♪ Not gonna teach forever ♪
♪ Gonna give showbiz a try ♪
♪ Try! ♪
I didn't think it was physically possible,
but this both sucks and blows.
("Shave and a Haircut" playing)
♪ That's fame! ♪
(applause)
(chuckling)
Whew! Mercy!
Good evening.
Our old friend Noah Webster defines laughter
as the act or sound of laughing.
-NELSON: Ha-ha! -(chuckling)
Well-illustrated, Nelson.
And now fasten your funny bones for groundskeeper--
Oh, or should I say "Grinskeeper"?
No, I'm sorry. Groundskeeper was correct. Willie!
(playing "My Bonnie")
How many of ya hail from the fair city of Edinburgh?
So, have you noticed
how North Edinburgh golfers putt like this
and South Edinburgh golfers putt like this?
(man coughs)
Eh?
-(bagpipe honking) -Eh?
Oh, I see.
Willie's not funny unless he's down on his knees
scooping up your little brats' puke!
(laughing)
-Thank you. You've been great. -(applause)
(mid-tempo jazz bass intro)
♪ You give me fever ♪
(pop)
♪ When you touch me ♪
♪ Fever when you hold me tight ♪
-(pop) -(audience members groaning)
♪ Fever! Ha! ♪
-Kill me. -(popping)
Well, Seymour, it seems we've put together a baseball team,
and I was wondering, who's on first?
Yes, not the pronoun but rather a player
with the unlikely name of "Who" is on first.
Yes, well, that's just great, Seymour.
We've been out here six seconds.
You've already managed to blow the routine.
(muttering) Sexless freak.
(laughing)
Well, it seems as though we're just about at the halfway point.
So why don't we call it intermission?
(overlapping conversations)
Oh! Don't go too far.
If you like cafeteria workers in Beatle wigs
with tennis racket guitars,
you won't want to miss the second half.
-Oh, no! No! -(shouting)
You drive. I eat.
Dad, you were supposed to pay for those snacks.
I saw Krabappel's butt. I paid.
(tires screeching, honking horns)
Whoopsie.
Hmm. This could take a minute.
There's an opening, Mom.
I don't know.
I hate to change lanes once I get going.
That's really for race car drivers.
Mom, to your left.
He's letting you in. Go!
-LISA: Come on, Mom! -HOMER: Gun it, woman.
No, no. As soon as I get over, that lane will stop moving.
Erma Bombeck said so, and Dave Barry agrees.
Oh! You suck, Marge.
(engine roaring)
-(honking) -Come on, move it, you clowns!
What in blazes...
So long, schlubs!
Wow. Did you see that thing, Marge?
So powerful, so commanding.
So forceful and raw.
It didn't ask. It just took.
(over PA system) ♪ Canyonero ♪
♪ Canyonero ♪
(moaning)
Oh, Canyonero...
(chuckling) Go ahead. Drool all you want.
You can't hurt that finish.
Now, rainwater, that'll strip it right off.
Ah, I shouldn't have said that.
Come on, Gil.
Hey, a red one!
(laughing)
Can I buy that? Please?
Well, if you-you... Dah... Wha... Really?
Wow! Ha! Hot dog! A sale!
(laughing)
I'll take it from here, Gil.
No, wait! Ah, no, you can't take my sale.
My wife's going to leave me if I don't start bringing in the green.
Come on. Let me have this one, Stan. I'm begging you.
Look at me. I'm begging you, Stan.
Mm-hmm. Let's go write this up shall we?
Honey, you should've seen me with my last customer.
I... No, but I came so close. This guy was a...
Whose voice is that?
Is that Fred?
Ah, you said it was over.
No, don't put him on.
It... Hello, Fred. Hi.
OK, you've got the undercoating, clear coating, rustproofing,
under guard spray, gravel guard XJ,
Vita-Seal, Repels-It
but if you want to protect the paint,
you better keep it in this tent.
Will do.
OK. Here's how your lease breaks down,
this is your down payment. Then here's your monthly.
And there's your weekly.
And that's it, right?
Yep. Oh, then after your final monthly payment,
there's the routine CBP, or crippling balloon payment.
But that's not for a while, right?
Right.
Sweet.
-Whoo! Hello! -Hey, baby!
Whoops. Oh, sorry, Homer.
We thought you were one of those hot-to-trot soccer moms.
Yeah, you don' see many men driving the "F" series.
Huh?
See? Instead of a cigarette lighter,
it's got a lipstick holder.
(gasps)
Ah, crap! It's a girl's car.
I can't drive this.
Oh, sure, you can, dollface.
-(kissing noises) -(chuckles)
Pretty thing like you can do whatever she wants.
(laughing)
Shut up! Screw you guys!
(tires screeching)
Lousy F series. Frilly, girly, fruity car.
Where's your keys? I'm taking your car to work.
You cashed in your 401(k) to buy that stupid Canyonero.
Why can't you drive it?
Are you saying I'm gay?
Because, if that's what you think,
then just come right out and say it.
I don't think you're gay.
I just have to do my grocery shopping.
Now, please, give me my keys.
Fine.
(humming)
-(electrical crackling) -(giggles)
-(tires screeching) -Ha-ha! Sucker!
(groans)
Good Lord.
How am I supposed to get in this beast?
(mechanical whirring)
Hmm. Well, that's a nice feature.
Not much headroom, though.
Ooh!
Oh, I guess I can drive it for a little while.
But, Mom, I read that sport utility vehicles are more likely
to be involved in fatal accidents.
Fatal to the people in the other car.
Let's roll.
Hang on, the manual says
I need to log on to the onboard computer.
M-A-R-G-E.
FEMALE VOICE: Hello, Marge.
Where would you like to go today?
(gasps)
No one has ever asked me that before in my life.
(tires screeching)
Well, that's a first.
I've never been able to fit 32 grocery bags
into one car before.
Eww, why is Courtney Love on the Wheaties box?
Hmm. I thought it was Sandy Duncan.
Uh-oh. Gridlock at 12 o'clock.
(horns honking)
Oh, crud.
And we're so close to the house.
Um, I don't want to alarm you,
but the ice cream's starting to go south.
(slurping)
Hmm. Mm-hmm. (gagging)
Hey, give me some of that.
(screams)
Mom, Bart sprayed whipped cream in my eye!
I did not.
(screams)
(both grunting)
(yelling)
Kids, cut it out!
(sighs) All right.
Hey!
Come on, Mom, just cut across the field.
Oh, I don't know. It doesn't seem right.
Huh! Do you want to spend your whole life doing what's right?
Of course not.
Let's do it.
(man singing country music)
(tires screeching)
BART: Whoa!
You the man, Mom!
Out of my way, nature!
(panicked chittering)
MARGE: ♪ Canyonero! ♪
(gasps)
Look at me, Lis. I'm Baron von Chickenpants.
(clucking)
Bart, that's tomorrow night's dinner.
You're tomorrow night's dinner.
Mom! Bart took what I said and turned it into an insult!
That's nice, dear.
OK, Mr. Peanut, you think you can keep...
(stammering)
A three-chambered peanut.
Marge, look what I did!
Come quick! Hurry!
Marge?
Marge, you've been out there all morning.
-So? -So lying on the couch and eating stuff
isn't the same if you aren't around to see it.
I'll come watch you do nothing after I try out
my new high-intensity halogen headlights.
(snickering)
Nobody will ever cut me off again.
Oh, please come in.
Maggie smells bad, and the cat wants something
but I don't know what.
I'm almost done.
And tell Bart to get out of my purse.
(inaudible dialogue)
MARGE: SUV. Coming through.
Open up for Marge.
Thank you.
Thank... Whoa.
And daylight. Come on. Come on.
(horn honking)
Jeez, try the gas pedal, grandma.
It's right there next to the brake.
Oh, for god's sake. Go back to New Jersey.
(exasperated grunting)
-(horn honking) -Come on! Come on!
Get that corpse off the road!
The streets are for the living.
-(tires screeching) -(people screaming)
Slow down, you maniac!
Show some respect for this coffin full of bricks
representing a young man lost at sea!
Hey!
(siren wails)
Oh, great. What'd I do?
This better be important.
Can the sweet talk, Thelma and Louise.
You have a serious mental illness.
The technical term is "road rage."
I'll see you tomorrow morning at traffic school, speedy.
And you got exactly five seconds to get out of my sight.
LISA: Oh.
(tires screeching)
Oh, why are the pretty ones always insane?
OK, I assume you all know why you're here.
That's right.
-You're all angry sick people. -(grumbling)
But over these next eight hours,
you will be broken down to the level of infants,
then rebuilt as functional members of society,
then broken down again, then lunch,
then, if there's time, rebuilt once more.
All right, roll it, Lou.
Hello. I'm Sergeant Crew,
and I'm here to talk to you about...
road... rage.
-Duh. -Quiet, fatso. The sergeant's talking.
Go on, dear.
In these modern hectic days of fast food,
answering machines, and one-night stands,
people are getting angrier.
Now, what you're about to see is not pretty.
Cut me off, will ya?
Yah!
(grunting)
(horn honking)
Learn to drive, dimwit!
I sentence you to kiss my ass!
(screaming)
Look familiar? It should.
Anger is what makes America great,
but you must find the proper outlet for your rage.
Fire a weapon at your television screen,
pick a fight with someone weaker than you,
or write a threatening letter to a celebrity.
So, when you go out for a drive,
remember to leave your murderous anger where it belongs...
at home.
(applause)
And, as if that film wasn't enough,
we have a special guest.
Why, it's Curtis E. Bear--
The Courtesy Bear.
(hums)
For the next three hours,
this bear will take your verbal and physical abuse
with good nature and aplomb.
So, if you'll all just grab one of these two-by-fours...
Uh, Chief, can I at least shield my crotch?
Bears can't talk, Kenny.
-(yelling) Oh, yeah! -(Kenny groaning)
(indistinct chatter)
Well, Simpson, did you learn something today?
Oh, did I ever.
And that herbal anger rinse
just washed the rage right out of me.
Uh, remember, Midge, you feel the need to rage,
you call me, right?
I won't even get sexual or nothing
unless that's what you want.
But that's not what you want, right?
No, thanks.
But thanks.
(indistinct chatter)
After you, sweetheart.
Oh, no, you first, ma'am.
Well, somebody go first.
Well, not me.
I'm not going until she goes.
Oh, for crying out loud, I...
Oh, oh, oh, OK. Calm down.
Just think.
What would Curtis E. Bear do?
(honking)
Move it, I got to return this suit!
(tires squealing)
Hmm.
Get out of the way!
(tires squealing)
Oh, no! No!
(horn honking)
(screams)
-Yaaah! -(alarm blaring)
We're free! We're free!
Whoa. Thanks, chick dude.
Well, I hope you're happy, Simpson.
Those prisoners were one day away
from being completely rehabilitated.
I'm tearing up your license.
Aw, jeez. Darned laminated...
Would you mind? I got stubby fingers.
(embarrassed chuckle)
(groans)
(frustrated grunt)
How could they take away my license?
It feels like I lost a limb.
Well, that's a turnoff.
Hey, why don't you come to the wild animal park with us?
No. Your father drives like an old lady.
At least I've got a license.
(grunts)
(quietly): Come on, kids. I went too far.
-(door slams) -(sighs)
(elephant trumpets)
Aw, what a gyp. They're all just lying around.
Do something!
Bart, they're not here to entertain us.
I've seen plays that were more exciting than this.
Honest to god. Plays!
I don't want to pay four bucks to watch some monkey wannabe laying in the sun!
But, Dad, lemurs are nocturnal.
Don't worry, honey. Daddy will fix that broken animal.
No!
I'm not going to hurt him. I'm just going to wake him up.
(shrieking)
(shrieks)
(roars, growls)
(all growl)
Uh-oh. Here's your slingshot, Lisa!
I told them a chain-link fence wouldn't hold rhinos.
Oh, wait. No, I didn't.
I meant to tell them.
(shrieks)
(screaming)
(all screaming)
Don't worry, kids. I know just what to do.
Jumanji!
(roaring)
Does anything from the movies actually work?
(grunting)
Aw, nuts.
Isn't there anybody who can round up these thunder lizards?
Well, they'd need a pretty rugged vehicle.
And a heart to match.
Hmm.
I'd like to help you, Chief,
but my license was revoked.
Seems I'm full of rage.
Then do it for this adorable little puppy.
Look at the puppy, Marge.
That's your hat.
She's good, Chief.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some dust
that needs busting.
(people screaming)
This is Kent Brockman at the scene
of a level-three rhino alert.
Authorities say there's no immediate danger to anyone
except those three luckless people whom we'll identify
once the rhinos spit out their wallets.
(gasps)
Back! Back, I say!
Oh, no. I'm out of popcorn.
Throw your peanuts!
You throw your peanuts.
(all yelling)
-(horn honking) -BART: Look, it's Mom.
Out of the way!
-(horn honking) -Move it or lose it!
Get going, you!
(horn honking)
This ought to hold them.
There's one missing, mate.
If we don't find him, it'll be my ass on the barbie.
-(grunting snorts) -(whimpering)
(horn honking)
Get in! Get in!
(grunting)
Come on, Homer, jump!
(grunts)
Ohh, when will Detroit build a sunroof for the husky gentleman?
-(growling) -(Lisa gasps)
(tires screeching)
-(growling) -(Homer grunting)
(screaming) Oh, no!
-(whimpering) -(people screaming)
Hey, anybody seen Homer today?
-(screaming) -There he goes.
Oh! Ow!
It's not my rhino!
(all scream)
(grunts)
(screams)
Ooh!
Oh, thank you, God!
And thank you, Port-A-John. You really saved my...
(screams)
Who's out there?
(screams)
Oh, I'm going to die.
Jesus, Allah, Buddha, I love you all!
(growls)
HOMER: Nice rhino.
(tires squealing)
(gasps)
Oh, no! She's not going to make it!
Hmm. Looks like it's time for plan B.
One, two,
three... B!
(shrieks)
(growls)
It's OK, Homie. You can come out now.
HOMER: Uh, give me a minute.
(rhino grunting)
Oh, Marge, you saved me.
Wow. You are so much cooler than Milhouse's mom.
Yeah, way to channel that rage, Simpson.
How did you know your plan would work, Mom?
Thanks for asking.
Well, I was watching Dateline,
and Stone Phillips said SUVs always roll over
when you turn sharply
and the gas tanks explode at the drop of a hat.
And she also knew, if a rhino sees a flame,
he'll instinctively try to put it out.
Stone Phillips again.
Is there anything that guy doesn't know?
Why, this Stone Phillips sounds like quite a bloke.
What television network is he on?
Why, NBC, of course.
NBC has lots of great shows
and their news and sports coverage can't be beat.
Do you think there's anything great on NBC right now?
Oh, I'm sure of it.
But there's only one way to find out.
HOMER: I'd like to read the following statement,
-but I do so under... -(gun cocks)
...my own free will.
''It has come to my attention that NBC sucks.
I apologize for misleading you
and urge you to watch as many Fox shows as possible."
So, in summary, NBC bad, Fox good.
CBS great.
-(gunshot) -(body thuds)
(gunshots)
(theme music playing)
-(gunshot) -(body thuds)
(gunshots)
Captioned by Visual Data Media Services