CHOIR: ♪ The Simpsons ♪
(school bell ringing)
(whistle blows)
(beeping)
(playing the blues)
D’oh!
(screams)
♪♪
(crow cawing)
Come on, Mr. Burns, keep moving.
We can’t leave work till you do.
Aw, no.
He’s talking to that mailroom guy.
I hope he’s not telling that stupid story
about hang gliding again.
ALL: Oh! Oh! Oh!
Listen carefully.
I have taken your wife hostage.
If you don’t have a wife, I have kidnapped your brother.
Nod if you understand.
Now back away from Burns and I will let your dog live.
Good. Now stop and dance like a happy prospector.
Happier.
Happier!
Homer, we want to get him away from Burns.
Oh, right. Just leave.
But kick like a Rockette.
(humming)
(tires screeching)
-Woo! Yes! -We’re free!
Empty apartment here I come!
Set the table, Marge.
I can already taste those deep-fried pork chops.
Don’t you remember what today is?
Oh, when you ask me that it’s never good.
It’s the first of the month.
The day you promised to start your new diet.
(whimpering)
I’m just really worried about your weight.
Bart says that we got a call from NASA,
and your gravity is pulling satellites out of their orbits.
Marge, that was a joke.
-But it comes from a true place. -Oh!
Well, if I’m going to start a diet,
this is my last chance to eat all the crap I love.
I think I’ll miss you most of all,
Captain Corn Dog Schnitzel Palace.
No tears, Homer.
♪ I’m lost in a crowd ♪
♪ And I’m hungry like the wolf ♪
♪ Straddle the line, in discord and rhyme ♪
♪ And I’m hungry like the wolf ♪
Uh-ooh. Can’t let Marge see this.
SIDESHOW MEL’S VOICE: Thank you!
(gasps)
A drive-up trash can.
This must be how the rich toss out their gold.
And as long as I’m cleaning out the family chariot...
Cups... newspapers...
bottles...
tricycle...
lawn chair...
un-cashed checks.
Hmm, "Dispose of properly."
Aw, this book is too hard.
(hissing)
And now for a victory cigar.
Thank you!
(screaming)
♪ And I’m hungry like the wolf ♪
(old man grunts)
The calamity in our Fast-Food District
destroyed 37 restaurants rated "awful" to "mediocre."
And put these beloved mascots out on the street.
(sobbing)
I told myself I’d stay strong.
(sobbing)
There, there, Cheesy McMayor.
No one likes weepy meat.
I can’t stand to see a grown burger cry.
We must rebuild Fast Food Boulevard!
I don’t know about you, but I don’t want
to live in a future
where food is brought by "waiters..."
where the chairs aren’t attached to the tables...
and where I can’t ditch my kids
in a pit of dirty balls.
I say we rebuild the Fast-Food District--
bigger and better than ever!
(cheering)
To raise the money, we’ll need a bond issue.
But won’t that just shift the burden to your children?
No, you idiot.
We just pay for it with another bond issue.
Let her figure out someone to dump it on.
Then it’s decided--
the bond issue will be part of our next scheduled election,
the Springfield presidential primary.
But that’s not till next June.
In that case, I hereby move the election up to next Tuesday.
(cheering)
That means the Springfield Presidential Primary
will be first in the nation.
Even earlier than New Hampshire.
Uh-oh, they’re going to be cheesed.
As they day of the primary nears,
this race is as wide open
as a hobo’s mouth at a pie-flinging contest.
What do you New Hampshirites think
of the current crop of presidential candidates?
Well, Mr. Rather, the way I see it,
as my father always said, "The way I look at it..."
Dan, breaking news.
Springfield just moved its primary
a week ahead of New Hampshire’s.
Now it’s the first one.
Sweet mother of Murrow.
We’re off to Springfield, people.
Come on, folks, move it.
Grandma was slow, but she was old.
You have no excuse.
Into the truck!
PEOPLE: (shouting) To Springfield!
WOMAN: Which Springfield?
MAN: The one the Simpsons live in.
Eh, looks like everyone’s gone but the cashier.
Time to make our move.
Nice knitting on these masks, Martha.
Now that you’ve said my name,
I have to kill him.
♪♪
With Springfield’s primary now first in the nation,
our humble city is overrun with candidates, newshounds,
spin doctors, hacks, flacks,
Russerts, Blitzers and even the occasional voter.
Sir, do you have a preference?
Yeah, I like girls, fruit loop.
(scoffs) Are you a registered voter?
I’m a registered... something.
This election is on every channel.
Come on, Marge. It’s primary fever.
Catch it!
That’s what you said about yellow fever,
and that was no fun.
I think it’s exciting.
Springfield is the center of the political universe.
I feel like a pundit in a think tank!
Think tank, eh?
Hmm.
Now let’s consider World Bank lending policy
towards Micronesia.
(indistinct, overlapping chatter)
What? I’m not allowed to get one right?
I like you newsies.
You really lap up the sauce.
Do you have Internet access?
Sure thing, mouse pad. Ten bucks.
Knock yourself out.
This is Jon Stewart reporting from Springfield.
Do I need to say my name?
People know me, right?
Know it’s just cable, but...
You know what? I’m not gonna worry about it.
I gonna just...
(inhales deeply, and exhales, sputtering)
Great. Now I’m worried.
Hey, hey, it’s Jon Stewart,
everyone’s favorite political funnyman!
Hey, Krusty!
Haven’t seen you since you bailed on that benefit.
Yeah, well,
I really didn’t believe in the cause.
Well, Krusty’s Kids sure missed ya.
Yeah, they’re great.
A little clingy...
But anyway, this Springfield primary election--
pretty crazy, huh?
Yeah, it sure is.
With many comic elements, such as, uh...?
You know, if you ask me...
(chuckling): there’s more hot air here than there is at...
Uh-huh.
Are you writing this down?
Nah, this is somethin’ else.
So, uh, where is there less hot air than here?
Albuquerque Balloon Festival?
Rush Limbaugh’s sweatpants?
Krusty, you’re obviously fishing for jokes so you can steal them.
No!
That’s ridiculous!
More ridiculous than that place
with all the hot air, which is...
Well, I’ll thank you
to keep my zingers out of your mouth.
I’m gonna try and remember you the way you used to be.
But I’ve always been terrible!
With me here to comment
on today’s Democratic Debate
is Andrea Crowley of CNN,
Dumont Evans of Slate.com
and Ron Lehar,
a print journalist from the Washington Post.
Haw-haw!
(sing-songy): ♪ Your medium is dying! ♪
Nelson!
But it is!
There’s being right, and there’s being nice.
Thank you all for coming to our focus group.
Today, we’re going to show you commercials
from the Republican candidates.
We’d like your honest opinions.
This punch is too sweet.
Your blouse makes you look fat.
Opinions about the ads.
(gasps) I live in that place!
MALE ANNOUNCER: Who should America elect in 2008?
Former governor Vincent Aleppo said in the New York Times,
"I will protect the nation from attack."
He’s got my vote.
But in that same issue
of the New York Times,
they also printed an article
about terrorist leader Nussaf Al Mustaffi.
Dear God, what have I done?
"And ye shall judge them by the company they keep."
(theme from A Summer Place plays)
Oh, my God.
They’re going steady!
Did everyone see that?!
So, what do we think?
Well, I thought every part of it was good,
but overall, I hated it.
I feel exactly the opposite, but the same.
That was the best milkshake ad I’ve ever seen.
It makes me want a milkshake!
The top fifth is consuming 60%
of our nation’s resources,
while the bottom two-fifths is consuming one eighth.
Hence my campaign slogan,
"End quintile disparity."
Look, we all care about quintile disparity,
but the Democrats can’t win with another prissy brainiac.
Thank you, Senator Winnergill.
(chuckles) That’s Whiner-girl.
Honey, how many of these signs do I have to put up?
(angry, fast, high-pitched, unintelligible squawking)
Twenty-five more?
What did I ever do to you to deserve this?
(short, angry, high-pitched unintelligible squawk)
(scoffs) You’re never gonna let that go, are you?
Oh, my God!
This family is undecided!
Undecided!
(indistinct shouting)
(elephants trumpeting)
(gentle knocking)
Hmm. I wonder who that could...
be...!
(camera shutters clicking)
Family values!
Vanishing middle class!
Cut and run!
Terrorists win! Terrorists win!
Stop all this pandering!
If you haven’t sprung from, or aren’t married to my loins,
get the hell out of this house!
(muttering)
You, too, Fred Thompson.
But I was in Die Hard.
(scoffs) Die Hard Two!
Mmm.
Is everyone here as sick
of those stupid politicians as I am?
(all assenting)
What about the media?
They’re not covering the issues.
They just want to declare a frontrunner
and go back to their mansions.
(all assenting)
Who wants to abolish democracy forever?
Show of hands.
I could really go for some kind of military dictator
like, uh, Juan Peron.
When he disappeared ya, you stayed disappeared.
Plus his wife was Madonna.
What are we gonna do?
We can’t not vote, nobody does that.
Why don’t we all pick the most ridiculous candidate
and write him in?
You mean Dennis Kucinich?
Hey! I’m right here!
Oh, sorry.
No, no. This candidate has to be unbelievably ridiculous.
Chief Wiggum!
No. But you’re close.
KENT BROCKMAN: Roll over, Anne Coulter,
and tell James Carville the news:
Springfield voters have overwhelmingly rejected
the major candidates of both parties in favor of a write-in:
eight-year-old Ralph Wiggum.
Shockingly, this new face is now favored by 53% of likely voters.
A new frontrunner has been crowned!
(chuckles)
What I did made the TV thing happen.
♪♪
ANNOUNCER: Live from our nation’s capitol,
this is Headbutt with Nash Castor.
Our top story: President Ralph Wiggum?
Two days ago, this bed-wetter made a splash
in the Springfield Primary.
With the remaining 49 primaries scheduled for next Tuesday,
can Ralph go from Sesame Street to Pennsylvania Avenue?
Adriatica Vel Johnson!
Well, Nash, Ralph Wiggum is a breath of fresh air
for a country hungry for a change of air.
And he’s already a master of the sound bite,
from his take on immigration reform...
Stranger danger!
...to his disciplined stance on government spending.
I only have this much monies.
Well, um, I’d hate to be
the fingernail in this Cobb salad,
but we don’t even know if this young man
is a Democrat or Republican.
Before we invite Ralph to the prom,
we should find out if he’s wearing a tux or a tutu.
(chuckles)
Mom, they’re taking Ralph’s candidacy seriously.
This is a disaster!
Speaking of disasters, have you seen this?
Springfield Dodge bought too much inventory,
and they’ve only got one weekend to get rid of all the ’07s.
(groans anxiously)
(sighing) Oh...
Lisa, I’m sure this Wiggum-arole will blow over.
You have to have faith in the wisdom
of the average voter.
I dig the Wig! I dig the Wig!
Oh, dear God...
Come on, Lis, hop on the Wiggum Wagon.
Ralph said he’d let me be Secretary of Indian Burns.
Here’s my first official act:
Ow! (grunting)
Ralph can’t be president.
He’s the dumbest person, in the slowest reading group.
Lisa, being president is easy.
You just point the Army and shoot.
And Ralph is only eight years old.
It says in the Constitution, you have to be 35.
The Constitution?
I’m pretty sure the Patriot Act killed it
to ensure our freedoms.
(mockingly): Oh, the Patriot Act is so terrible!
The government might find out what library books I take out.
What’s next? Finding out what operas I go to?
MR. BURNS: So it’s agreed:
we cancel the rest of the primaries and offer
the G.O.P. nomination to this knee-high want-wit.
My oil rig is already gushin’ for this Wiggum critter!
Do you have bats in your belfry?
They don’t even let him use big-boy scissors!
Sure he’s a little green, but, uh,
you know, so was George W. Bush,
and look how great, uh, he-he... um...
But at least he won!
The second time...
assuming they don’t find those ballot boxes in Ohio.
Look, the Wiggum boy’s better than anyone else we’ve got.
Hear! Hear!
DRACULA: Well, if you put it that way...
(others agreeing)
This meeting of the Democratic Party
will come to order, babies.
So if we nominate this Ralph Wiggums,
we will be like an unstoppable choo-choo.
I already got my assless, sparkle tux cleaned
for the inauguration.
I agree with my ex-husband.
With Ralph on the ticket,
I don’t know how we will blow it, but we will.
Because that’s what the Democratic Party is all about.
(cheers of agreement)
This is Kent Brockman reporting from the Wiggum compound,
where both parties have gathered to court
the most charismatic child since Drew Barrymore in Firestarter.
When she got mad, they got burned.
Ralph, both parties want to offer you their nomination.
Whom do you like?
Go ahead, Ralphie.
You’re invited to two parties--
one with a donkey and one with an elephant.
Who do you like?
Elmo? (camera shutters clicking)
Ah, Admiral Elmo Zumwalt,
Richard Nixon’s chief of naval operations.
So Ralph’s a Republican!
Not so fast, Kent.
Zumwalt ran for the senate in ’76-- as a Democrat.
No way, Lou-- you’re thinking of Admiral Hyman Rickover.
The father of the Nuclear Navy?
(scoffs) As if!
Only one place to settle this--
to the offices of the World Book Encyclopedia!
(siren blares)
CROWD: Ralph! Ralph! Ralph!
(whimpers)
(groans)
Ralph, darling, be a Democrat.
We have Alec Baldwin, they have Stephen Baldwin.
They might as well not even have a Baldwin.
(door opens) Leave him alone, you vultures!
Who are you?
(groans)
Ralph and I used to date.
Nice. Now maybe you can help him pick a party.
Ralph, they have no right to do this to you.
They just want to use you.
Maybe I want to use them.
Maybe you wha...?!
Use them to make this country great again.
When we’re mad, we’ll just use our words,
then the rest of the world will play nice with us.
And the only boom-booms will be in our pants.
Maybe you wouldn’t be such a bad president.
And you can be my first ladle.
I like the sound of that.
CROWD: Ralph! Ralph! Ralph!
ANNOUNCER: The following is a paid political announcement
by the Republican and Democratic parties.
Compassionate...
Tough...
Curious...
These are all words Ralph Wiggum doesn’t know;
but he doesn’t need to know them,
he lives them, every day.
I’m voting Ralph for president.
His easy smile makes me think everything is okay,
even when I know it ain’t.
I’m voting for Ralph, too.
But don’t tell you-know-who.
ANNOUNCER: On November 4th,
vote for the latest in a long line of great American leaders.
I want a tricycle,
and a dog who won’t chew my Hot Wheels,
and a brighter future for America!
I’m Ralph Wiggum, and I’ve been a good boy!
Captioned by VISUAL DATA
Shh!
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