(theme music playing)
CHORUS: ♪ The Simpsons ♪
(bell ringing)
(whistle blows)
(beeping)
(playing the blues)
(tires screech)
(honking horn)
D'oh! (screams)
(all exclaiming)
You promised to stop watching that telly and take me on holiday.
(in Italian accent) Shut uppa your mouth!
ANNOUNCER (on TV): Ethnic Mismatch Comedy
number 644 has been canceled.
While we scramble to find new programming
please enjoy this encore presentation
of Princess Di's funeral.
(frustrated groan) I was really starting to enjoy
Ethnic Mismatch Comedy number 644.
I've never heard so many Viagra jokes in 30 seconds. (guffawing)
(in Italian accent) Shut uppa your mouth!
ANNOUNCER: Attention, Springfield,
how low will you go?
Ow!
ANNOUNCER: To win a trip to... Hawaii!
This Saturday, our judges will select the lowest, most disgusting nitwit in town
and send him straight to Maui!
Sponsored by Grandma Plopwell's,
the low-fat pudding that's approved for sale
by the government.
All right! A gross-out contest!
Grandma Plopwell, you've done it again.
Care for a free sample?
Thank you.
Mm, for low fat, this pudding's pretty good.
Mmm... mmm...
Oh, I can feel the pounds just melting off.
Our new hyper-sugar gives you 300% of your minimum daily sweetness requirement.
-(gagging) -Mm...
do you suffer from diabetes?
(stuttering) Uh... no.
Well, you do now. (laughing)
We're here live from the KBBL parking lot to see
how low will you go?
Our most disgusting contestant will win a free trip
to Hartford, Connecticut.
-I thought it was Hawaii. -No one said Hawaii.
Now let's get stupid with our first contestant,
the human garbage disposal.
-(crowd applauding) -Ladles and jellyspoons,
I will now take going low to new heights.
I will swallow anything, and I mean anything
you people throw.
-Here, take this. -(gulping)
(coughs) Please, no more spark plugs.
Lisa, would you like a penny to throw at your brother?
Unbelievable. We're rewarding people for acting like buffoons.
Young lady, this may be the high point of Bart's life.
Cut him some slack.
-(burping loudly) -(crowd cheering)
No, wait!
That wasn't a trick!
I was going to juggle chickens!
ANNOUNCER: Next up, Homer and his amazing Redenbacher Dreamcoat
with a number he calls "Kernel Knowledge."
♪ I'm hot buttered ♪
♪ Check it and see ♪
♪ I got a fever of 453 ♪
(kernels popping)
♪ I'm hot, so very hot ♪
Fours?
Ow! Ow!
Oh, this is so embarrassing.
Lisa, did anyone force you to come here today?
You.
-Hmm. Well, no one's forcing you to stay. -OK, I'm leaving.
-Oh, you're not going anywhere, missy. -(crowd booing)
But it's me, Moe, wearing a sailor suit.
Moe with a lolly.
(chuckles) It's a lot of character.
-Ain't that worth nothing? -(crowd booing)
WOMAN: Come on. Next.
All right, judges, who is our winner?
The winner is...
me, for being seen with you freaks.
Judges can't win the contest. Boo!
You have robbed us of our dignity!
What are you...? Aaah! A urinal cake?
You, sir, have crossed the line. (grunts)
Aaah!
(all yelling)
People, stop! Stop!
We're not animals!
(all making barnyard noises)
Take that.
(groaning)
"An open letter to the people of Springfield.
Today our town lost
what remained of its fragile civility
drowned in a sea of low-fat pudding."
Look, I got runner-up prize.
You won second place?
No, but I got it.
Stealing is wrong.
"Free boudoir photography."
Sweet.
(humming)
Hmm.
Huh?
(gasps)
Oh, right.
"We are a town of lowbrows, no-brows, and ignorami.
We have eight malls but no symphony,
32 bars but no alternative theater,
13 stores that begin with 'Le Sex.'
I write this letter not to nag or whine but to prod.
We can better ourselves."
-Yee-ha! -(pig snorting)
Well, most of us.
Dad, did you see anything provocative in today's paper?
Yes. There's a real think piece here
about a bra sale.
Dad, stop kidding around.
Look, they printed my letter.
Hey, that is wonderful, sweetie. I'm gonna read it...
just as soon as I finish what I'm doing here.
Well, I'm sure someone had the time to read it.
I envy them.
Hi, Mr. Flanders.
I see you're reading the newspaper.
(chuckling) Everything but the opinion page.
I don't need to be told what to think...
by anyone living.
Chief Wiggum. Boy, you sure got a lot of copies of the paper.
Yeah, I need to housebreak our new police dog.
Plus, it couldn't hurt Ralphie to brush up on the fundamentals.
Daddy says I'm this close to living in the yard.
Oh, doesn't anybody in this town read?
Oh, hello, Lisa.
Can you recommend any books for my mobile?
Oh, absolutely. Well, you know, anything by Jane Austen.
Jane Austen.
Thanks, Lisa. I'll get right on it.
(gasps)
"We read your letter with great interest.
If you wish to learn more, go to 13 Euclid Street.
Tell no one. And bring a dessert." Ooh.
-BART: Hey, Lise. Whoa! -(pig squealing)
MAN 1: Lisa Simpson, are you ready
to go on a voyage of intellectual self-discovery?
I think so.
Is that a pie or a quiche?
A pie.
(people muttering)
MAN 2: You may enter.
-Oh! -Welcome to Mensa, Lisa.
It's the organization for people with high IQs.
I know that. It's also a constellation
visible only from the Southern Hemisphere.
She's good. She's very good.
(goofy laugh) And she brought a cream pie.
(gasps) You want me to join Mensa? Oh, that's wonderful.
But don't I have to take some sort of IQ test?
No, Lisa, you're more than qualified.
I've shared all your standardized test scores with the other members.
-Aren't those supposed to be confidential? -Welcome to Mensa.
You've joined such luminaries as cartoonists Mell Lazarus, Geena Davis,
and Parade magazine's Marilyn vos Savant.
Each the tops in his or her field...
uh, except for Mell Lazarus.
-Wow. I'm so honored you wanted me. -Well, it was your
delightfully condescending letter that put you over the top.
Lindsey Naegle, Advanced Capital Ventures.
Oh. What do you produce?
Synergy... and books on how to cheat at Bridge.
Lisa, I think you'll really enjoy it here.
Now, let's get down to business.
Any new palindromes?
(clears throat) Rise to vote, sir.
Now, you know the agenda.
Palindromes, anagrams, eat Lisa's pie, then voting.
But "rise to vote, sir" is a palindrome.
(murmuring)
Lisa, I think you're gonna fit in
just fine around here.
Wow... me... fit in.
(disguising voice) Hello.
I have a certificate for a free erotic photo session.
Oh, yes. Your name?
Uh...
Geraldo... Simpson.
-All right, Mr. Simpson. -(exclaims) Who told you?
Don't worry. These photos are perfectly legal.
Many husbands use 'em as a romantic gift for their wives.
Uh... you're not gonna ask me to pose nude, are you?
Well, yes, unless you have some issues with revealing your body.
Well, I don't, but the block association seems to.
They wanted a "traditional" Santa Claus.
I can't believe how they're dumbing down the Springfield library.
They've gotten rid of the English literature section
and replaced it with a "make your own sundae" bar.
I heard they got rid of the reference desk
-to make room for an air hockey table. -Even the microfilm?
-Even the microfiche. -(all groaning)
My family never talks about library standards,
and every time I try to steer the conversation that way,
they make me feel like a nerd.
We are hardly nerds. Would a nerd wear such an irreverent sweatshirt?
(Lisa reading)
(laughing)
Oh, only one person in a million would find that funny.
Yes, we call that the Dennis Miller ratio.
(Lisa humming)
Oh, Dad, I just spent the day with the most wonderful people.
Oh, that's great, honey.
You tell me everything you can before the commercial's over.
Well, for the first time in my life,
I feel that someone understands.
Up-bup-bup-bup!
Are you ready in there, Mr. Simpson?
HOMER: Are you sure
you're a fully accredited and bonded pornographer?
Just come out.
Please be kind.
You look fantastic. Let me just adjust my lens here.
Now you're sure this will save my marriage?
Try not to speak; it's making your body ripple.
-(groans) -Ugh!
Ooh!
-BART: Dad? Dad, are you home? -(exclaims)
(gasps)
Ow!
(grunting)
Fine. I don't care what you're doing.
Oh.
(screams)
Don't look. Don't look. Don't look.
OK, I think he's gone.
Let's reschedule.
This is so cool.
I feel like I'm back in the renaissance.
Please stay in character, gentle wench.
Verily I declare that the Earth revolves around the Sun
and not t'other way round.
Stop looking down my blouse, Copernicus.
Forsooth, mine eyes doth rove of their own accord.
-Zounds! -(indistinct burping)
Someone took our gazebo.
No, no, that's impossible. We reserved it months ago.
Someone should stand up to them.
-Whoa! -Mm...
Oh, I'll do it.
Excuse me, gentlemen.
Might I take a peek at your gazebo reservation form?
-Beat it. -(chuckles)
Yes, well, we each have a good case.
What part of "beat it" didn't you understand?
Mm. I guess it would be the "it."
I'm not exactly sure to what that refers.
It's a-- Ow!
Oh, it's hopeless.
There's some she-males in gazebo three,
a nasty-looking spider in gazebo six,
and the less said about gazebo eight, the better.
Ah, Chief, thank God you're here.
We reserved gazebo seven and look.
Geez, how many gazebos do you she-males need?
Beer me, boys.
Why do we live in a town
where the smartest have no power,
and the stupidest run everything?
Maybe I should just move back to Alabama.
No, we should fix things here. If we put our minds to it
there's no limit to what we can accomplish.
I think the girl's right.
-The jig is up, Quimby. -Oh, God.
When you see what's in this report,
things are going to change in this town.
I earned that lotto money.
I swear.
-Hyah! -(horse neighs)
Faster, you moron.
Huh. Well, that was unexpected.
What's going on? Where's the mayor?
He skipped town.
Really?
So, who's in charge?
Well, that's a good question.
Let's, uh, take a quick look at the town charter.
ALL: Done.
-Finished. -According to the charter,
should the mayor abdicate,
the Council of Learned Citizens may rule in his stead.
Well, there's no one more learned than us.
So, I guess... (chuckling) we're in charge.
What? Let me see that. Let me see here.
"We the people, cruel and unusual," blah, blah, blah...
"ritual circumcision," yak, yak, yak...
Ah, geez, I'll take your word for it.
I guess you are in charge.
(cheering)
With our superior intellects
we could rebuild this city on a foundation
of reason and enlightenment.
We could turn Springfield into a utopia.
A new Athens.
Or Walden Two.
Yeah, a real candyland.
Of the mind... the mind.
I'll just go now.
Bunch of dorks.
This is Kent Brockman at City Hall
where the intellectual junta known as the "bright pack"
has been running this town for the better part of three days.
(chattering indistinctly)
So, Lisa, what do you and your fellow eggheads
have planned for the city? Business as usual?
No, Kent, we're going to use the power of good ideas
to change things for the better.
(laughs) Well, excuse this jaded reporter
if he says he's heard that before.
-Oh, well, we really mean it. -(gasps) You do?
Yes. For example, no one was showing up for jury duty,
so we made the experience more exciting
by synergizing it with his comic book collection.
"You have been chosen to join the justice squadron
8:00 am. Monday
at the Municipal Fortress of Vengeance."
Oh, I am so there.
We studied traffic patterns and found
that drivers move the fastest through yellow lights.
So now, we just have the red and yellow lights.
(goofy laugh)
Come on! Stay yellow, stay yellow!
Man, I'm making record time.
If only I had someplace to be.
And we've really elevated
the level of discourse at the dog track.
We replaced the fanfare with classical music,
and instead of chasing a rabbit the dogs chase a diploma.
(dogs barking)
The world has already taken note of our accomplishments.
Springfield has moved up to number 299
on the list of America's 300 most livable cities.
Take that, East St. Louis.
Gee, you said you were gonna make me look sexier,
but it's awfully dark in here.
Light is not your friend.
-All right, let's do this thing. -It's time to get Homer-erotic.
-(upbeat music playing) -(exclaims)
OK, next item of business is our weekly progress report.
Principal Skinner, how's your transportation project coming?
Oh, excellent.
Not only are the trains now running on time
they're running on metric time.
Remember this moment, people... 80 past 2:00 on April 47.
It's the dawn of an enlightened Springfield.
Excellent. Now, next week is our State of the City address.
Has everyone finalized their proposals?
Well, first of all I have a plan
to eliminate obesity in females.
Oh, please. For a nickel-a-person tax increase,
we could build a theater for shadow puppets.
Balinese or Thai?
Why not both? Then everybody's happy.
Oh, yeah, everyone's real happy then.
Do I detect a note of sarcasm?
Are you kidding me?
This baby is off the charts.
Ooh, a sarcasm detector...
Oh, that's a real useful invention.
(overlapping conversation)
HOMER (in playful voice): Marge, oh, Marge.
I've got something for you.
Oh, Homie.
HOMER: Houston, we have a problem...
a sexy problem.
Homie, well, look at you.
Grrr. And I'm gonna maul you.
Home, I've never seen this side of you,
but I like it.
Whoo, whoo! Look at those silk pillows.
It's like the set of some high-class porno film.
(giggles) No, no, it's just our basement.
Mm, hold on.
What, that's our basement?
Yes, so come on, more kissing.
It looks so elegant, and all it takes
are some lace curtains and a beaded lampshade.
You've got to show me exactly what you did.
But I was going to score.
No, you weren't.
Welcome, everyone.
Today we embark on a new era
of intelligent governance.
ALL: Governance! Governance! Governance!
(clearing throat) We have some new rules and regulations
that you're just gonna go ape-poopy over.
Professor Frank?
Hi. Well, first of all,
we're going to ban such barbaric sports
as bullfighting and cockfighting.
(all cheering)
Also boxing, uh, both kick
-and the kind with the gloves, there. -(mild cheer)
And hockey, football, push-ups,
and anything in general where you have to take off your shirt,
-which is embarrassing. -(all protesting)
I don't remember discussing that.
Inspired by the most logical race in the galaxy, the Vulcans,
breeding will be permitted once every seven years.
(crowd exclaiming)
For many of you this will mean much less breeding.
For me, much, much more.
You cannot do that, sir! You don't have the power!
Uh-huh, ladies and gentlemen, I must apologize.
This man does not speak for the Council of Alphas.
We hold you sub-omeguloids in the highest regard.
When are we going to get to my broccoli juice program?
Quit butting in, please.
Your IQ is a mere 155,
while mine is a muscular 170.
♪ I am smart ♪
♪ Much smarter than you, Hibbert ♪
You should all do what I say.
My IQ is 199 for crying out flaven...
198, 197...
MALE AUTOMATED VOICE: Big deal.
My IQ is 280.
(all gasp)
ALL: Stephen Hawking!
The world's smartest man.
What are you doing here?
I wanted to see your utopia,
but now I see, it is more of a fruitopia.
(chuckles) I'm sure what Dr. Hawking means is...
DR. HAWKING: Silence.
I don't need anyone to talk for me except this voice box.
You have clearly been corrupted by power.
For shame.
Larry Flint is right.
You guys stink.
(all agreeing)
I don't know which is a bigger disappointment...
my failure to formulate a unified field theory, or you.
I don't like your tone.
If you are looking for trouble, you found it.
Yeah, just try me, you--
Ow!
(cheering)
Now's our opening. Come on, you idiots,
we're taking back this town.
Yeah, let's make litter out of these literati.
That's too clever. You're one of them.
(all screaming)
Please, stay calm, everyone.
(screams)
Time for this hawk to fly.
Wrong button.
LISA: Help!
Lisa, thank God you're OK.
Did you have fun with your robot buddy?
Dad... Oh, Dr. Hawking,
we had such a beautiful dream. What went wrong?
DR. HAWKING: Don't feel bad, Lisa.
Sometimes the smartest of us
can be the most childish.
-Even you? -No, not me. Never.
I guess everyone has a different vision
for the perfect world.
Wow, Mom, that's very profound.
Hey, you read that off my screen.
-Who's up for some beers? -I am.
That's the smartest thing I've heard all day.
Your theory of a doughnut-shaped universe
is intriguing, Homer.
I may have to steal it.
Wow. I can't believe someone I never heard of
is hanging out with a guy like me.
All right, it's closing time.
Who's paying the tab?
HOMER (mechanically): I am.
I didn't say that.
Yes, I did.
D'oh.
(theme music playing)
Shh!
HOMER: Larry Flint is right. You guys stink.
Captioned by Visual Data Media Services