CHOIR: ♪ The Simpsons ♪
Hmm. I can't believe you're reading
when there's so much great stuff on TV.
Hmm, you're right.
It is the golden age of well-written, brilliantly-acted TV shows.
(scoffs) Writing is for bathroom walls,
and acting is for getting out of DUIs.
The only reason TV exists is for reality shows
about white-trash scuzzbags doing subhuman, made-up jobs.
LISA: Um... Oh. Ah.
Eek. Yikes. Oh.
Ew. Ugh. Well...
Ew. Ah. Dad!
No. Ah! Oh.
Seriously? Ah!
(bluesy rock music playing)
Ooh, jail music!
NARRATOR: When storage lockers are abandoned,
we open them up!
Our expert bidders face off in the ultimate contest
to discover the amazing treasures within.
This is Storage Battles!
I'll give it one marathon.
I don't care what people say, I am feeling this unit.
No one feels out a unit like CJ.
Not Bubba, not Debbie and Danny, no one.
Mostly worthless junk:
family photo albums, home movies,
ah, kids' drawings.
Eh, just some nobody.
Here we go, here we go.
Bubble wrap.
If there's wrap, it ain't crap.
Bingo! Antique bayonets.
Oh! I'm talking World War One, Spanish American War.
Crimea, baby.
Well, if you found the right buyer on the right day,
and he knew nothing about bayonets,
you might sell them for possibly $500.
Definitely $500. $500!
Five hundy! Five hundaminidos!
(chuckles)
(humming)
-High-five me, Marge. -I want to know what it's for.
Too late. We're gonna get rich off the poor and forgetful.
And dead people.
I bet I win a locker full of treasure,
like a solid gold bar of silver or Picasso's TV.
Oh, no, no, no.
It is I who will be watching Picasso's TV tonight!
(both grunting)
Looks like you're not the only predatory opportunist in town.
(gasps) There's other P.O.'s?!
Uh-oh, better put on my game shades.
-Do I hear $50? Let me get $50. -Oh, yeah!
$100. Is there $100 out there? Looking for $100.
-Thank you! -$150, $150.
-(strums electric guitar) -Do I have $200?
-$250. Do I hear... -(yelling grunt)
-$350. -Yarr!
Four. Do I hear $400?
-$450. -Bidding!
-$500. -(plays bagpipes)
-$550. -Skinner!
-$600. -(trumpeting)
$650.
$650 going once, $650 going twice...
(saxophone playing)
$1,000.
$1,000 going once, going twice.
Sold to the man who didn't wait for the bidding
to get anywhere near $1,000!
In the money game, cash is king.
(chuckles)
(harmonica playing bluesy music)
We spent $1,000 on a bunch of old boxes?
You won't be laughing when these boxes
are full of priceless treasures.
I wasn't laughing, I was being worried.
(humming)
Feather boas?
Mine's full of hand mirrors.
I've got perfume spritzers.
Makeup and baby oil.
Tights? Robes?
Oh, this stupid locker must have belonged to some old lady.
"Property of Abraham J. Simpson"?
This is Grampa's stuff.
Why would my man-dad have lady stuff?
It's not all lady stuff.
Look at all these fitness publications.
Beefcake mags?
(gasps)
I think your dad might be gay.
Oh, that's insane.
My dad was married to a woman
who left him because he ignored her needs for decades.
Ah, my gay dad is gay for gays.
(harmonica playing bluesy music)
(groans)
I think this is great.
Old gay men are adorable.
Like wrinkle dogs in a wrinkle dog calendar.
Those are pretty cute.
Your dad's been in the closet for so long,
he probably doesn't know how tolerant society's become.
They even had a gay float in the Pride Parade last year.
My dad has always been so angry.
Maybe if we help him be who he is,
he'll finally be happy.
Oh, Homie,
you're so enlightened.
Yeah, gay rights are human rights, baby.
(humming)
Are you sure you're not just doing all this
because it's cool to be accepting of a gay family member?
Oh, honey, that's just silly.
This'll show Helen Lovejoy.
Always bragging about her transgender cousin.
Abe, we found your storage locker.
And it's okay, Dad.
We know the truth, and we love you.
What?!
The contents of that locker are my private business!
Get out!
Just admit who you are,
and you can find new love.
If you don't want to die alone,
come out of your room.
(moaning) Love... love...
love... love...
(all gasping)
Hi, Marge.
I was just taking Stanlerina to get her hormone shots.
Oh.
Your father wasted his whole life being married
to your mother and having you.
We've got to find him a boyfriend before it's too late.
Why don't you put a personal ad on the Internet?
That's how young people date these days.
It's weird that you don't consider yourself a young person.
I know. It's weird to me, too.
"Help me out of the closet.
Wonderful older man seeks life partner
before rapidly-encroaching death."
No fatties.
-How about some fatties? -Fine.
Okay, post this under "Men Seeking Men."
But what subheading?
Hmm, nothing too serious.
Here we go, "Casual Encounters."
Perfect! No pressure.
I hope someone saw our ad.
If I can't find my father a man to kiss and cuddle,
then I've failed as a son.
(gasps) Someone's coming.
Are you "Wrinkled and Romantic"?
Huh? What the heck are you talking about, Spectacles?
Oh, I've been hung up on someone for years,
but I'm trapped in the friend zone.
(sighs) It's time for me to move on.
So move on. You're blocking the ducks.
Don't you want to be happy, Abe?
Admit who you are, a wonderful gay man.
(stammers) What?!
I don't ride sidesaddle!
I'm straight as a submarine!
Then how do you explain this?
Oh, hello, Smithers. (chuckles)
Fancy seeing you in Casual Encounter Park.
-(gasps) You're Glamorous Godfrey! -Who?
Glamorous Godfrey was the most famous wrestler in the world.
And you are he!
Is this true?
BURNS: Behold.
HOMER: Look at all this wrestling crap.
-Ah. -Ay, caramba!
Fine, I was Glamorous Godfrey.
(sobbing)
What's wrong?
I so wanted him to be gay.
Well, on V.E. Day, I kissed a man by mistake.
Thank you.
You were a world-famous wrestler?
Spill the beans, old man.
Word beans!
Oh, all right, I'll tell you.
It was the 1950s.
HOMER (groans): Oh, those things?
GRAMPA: It was the heyday of pro wrestling.
You could make good money
if you were the manly mixture of strong and fat
we called beefy.
Good guys were called "baby faces."
And bad guys were called "heels."
I was the king of the heels, Glamorous Godfrey.
How dare he!
That was drinking milk!
GRAMPA: My motto was "Always cheat."
(groans)
But the thing that really drove them crazy was my vanity.
You are the luckiest people in the world.
You get to look at me.
(crowd booing)
Grampa, you were the original bad boy.
Yeah, I was boastful before all your football showboaters,
rap music-ers and TV beach Italians.
But there was a downside to being hated:
being hated.
(crowd booing)
Well, I just couldn't take it.
Being despised was no way to live.
Pshaw! Pshaw, I say!
Pshaw yourself!
-Pshaw! -Pshaw!
Homer, do something!
They're killing each other!
Oh, yeah? (muffled shouting)
The world may have despised Glamorous Godfrey,
but that conceited mother-puncher was my hero.
Please, Abe, let me buy you dinner
in exchange for a few tales of the golden age
of professional grappling.
Sorry, I've been trying to forget those days for 50 years.
But, Grampa,
I want to hear about old-time wrestling, too.
Well, it looks like you've made a new fan.
It'd be a shame to let him down, hmm?
Fine. One dinner.
Excellent.
So we'll take the boy and make a night of it.
I don't know.
Should I really let the men
who ruined my past and present
hang out with the kid who's going to ruin my future?
I'll bring you home my dessert.
Text me the choices.
I can't believe I'm on the town with Glamorous Godfrey himself.
Tell me of your epic battle with Swedish Olaf Johannsen.
Oh, yeah, "The Fury of the Fjords."
(Swedish accent) He can't get a beauty treatment during a match.
(muffled grunting)
(laughs)
You settled that Swede's meatballs.
What I wouldn't give to see Glamorous Godfrey
in action once more.
Would you ever consider throwing your wig back into the ring?
Go back to being a villain?
Oh, forget that.
Being hated is the worst feeling there is.
(chuckles) You've got it all wrong, my friend.
Once you see it my way, you'll understand that being hated
is the greatest feeling in the world.
♪ Don't really care for chasing women ♪
♪ Never was keen on booze ♪
♪ Don't take cocaine or Mary Jane ♪
♪ No, I get drunk on boos... ♪
Uh, that's B-O-O-S, not Z-E as before.
Uh, we get it.
-Because... -(grunts)
♪ You've got to love to be hated ♪
♪ Find the good in being bad ♪
♪ Oh, the crowd is full of gentlemen ♪
♪ But they've paid to see the cad ♪
♪ Yes, it's a hoot, a kick, a gas ♪
♪ When you're the villain of the show ♪
♪ Once you wear black, you'll never go back ♪
♪ It's a high to be loathed ♪
♪ Chucky, Stalin, Megatron ♪
♪ Eric Cartman, Donkey Kong ♪
♪ Vader, Nader, Simon Legree ♪
♪ Terminators, one, two and three ♪
♪ Iago, Joker, Voldemort ♪
♪ McEnroe on center court ♪
♪ Mr. Burns and Skeletor ♪
♪ Keep your good guys, what a snore ♪
♪ When it's your head they wanna sever ♪
♪ And your blood they wanna shed ♪
♪ You know you're gonna live forever ♪
♪ If everybody wants you dead ♪
♪ So listen up, because I'm giving ♪
♪ The best advice you'll ever know ♪
♪ So feel the thrill ♪
♪ I know you will ♪
♪ It's a high to be ♪
♪ Loa... ♪
♪ ...thed ♪
I'll feel like I'll live forever
as long as everybody wants me dead.
Okay, Burns!
Glamorous Godfrey will wrestle again!
(all gasp)
That cocaine I ordered is taking forever!
(indistinct chatter)
I can't wait to see Grampa kick some ass.
He's always pretended to be boring,
but he's really a straight-up psycho.
Your grandfather is not psycho.
The only thing he "straight-up" is loves you.
Gorilla Joe, Gorilla Sam, Gorilla Pete,
Ook and Eek, the Gorilla Twins.
Where did Mr. Burns dig up all these old wrestlers?
Apparently, old folks homes are full of people that used to be things.
Just like you and me. Swear to God.
Welcome, aficionados of the roped ring,
to a thrilling night of senior-on-senior action.
-(grunting) -(snoring)
(grunting grows weaker)
(both snoring)
(all snoring)
(crowd cheering)
Folding chairs! Folding chairs!
Can't hit somebody when they're not looking without a folding chair!
-Can I have one? Can I? -Fine.
Ha!
And now our main event.
In this corner, Baby Face Palooka.
And entering the ring,
America's original vainglorious bastard,
Glamorous Godfrey!
(crowd booing)
(baroque orchestral music playing)
(booing continues)
Yes, feel the hatred.
It makes you strong, powerful, alive.
You are the luckiest people in the world!
You get to look at me!
(booing continues)
(crowd coughing)
(crowd booing)
You show 'em, Godfrey!
You're the prettiest old man in the world!
Why do you think bad guys are so cool?
Why do you still have a thing for Nelson?
I do not! That's ridiculous!
I just... it's that... he, uh...
He's a rebel, and only I can change him!
-(clang) -(crowd clamoring, booing)
(crowd shouting)
(booing)
It's so sad that Grampa has to cheat
instead of relying on his God-given wrestling skills.
What kind of person revels in disapproval?
What kind of person, indeed.
(baroque orchestral music playing)
MILHOUSE: It's the prettiest boy in Springfield, Bart Simpson!
-(indistinct chatter) -What's going on?
You are the luckiest people in the world!
You get to look at me!
(crowd booing)
Hey! (grunts)
(Bart humming)
(coughs)
(booing continues)
Hey, Simpson, tell your kid to quit showboating.
I've never seen anyone so full of self-regard!
And I've worked with Bob Balaban!
(booing continues)
Your behavior at that game was unacceptable!
You're lucky they gave you your participant trophy!
I got one just for watching the game.
Listen, getting people riled up is what heels do.
Heel? Oh, no.
Tell me you're not trying to be like Grampa!
Well, sure I am.
I always thought Grampa was lame,
but he's really awesome!
Your grandfather is super lame!
I mean, if he wasn't a terrible father,
what's my excuse for this?
(grunting)
I know your grandpa seems exciting now,
but all that preening and cheating,
those turnbuckle antics, are not gonna make him happy.
(Grampa and Burns sigh)
Burnsy, I can't remember the last time
I was so happy!
You grandson-ruining fiend!
Look what your number one fan
did at show-and-tell!
ROBOTIC VOICE: Pain. Ow.
Pain!
Who would film such a thing?
It's found footage!
So what? We could use another winner in this family!
How are you a winner?
You're cheating in a fake sport.
Fake? Ridiculous.
If professional wrestling were fake,
that would make every fan in the history of the sport
a complete and utter moron.
Mercy.
You know, I've always had a keen eye for tiny talent.
Perhaps you and the lad could tag-team up.
Wrestle with Bart?
Well, he ain't beefy, but he is infuriating,
and you can't teach infuriating.
Monty, you're a genius!
Bart cannot be an old-time wrestler!
As your inattentive son, and your incompetent employee,
I forbid it!
Oh, why does everything I forbid always happen?
(grunts)
(indistinct chatter)
So, Beautiful, you got your moves memorized?
You know it, Glamorous!
Eye gouge! Ear bite! Folding chair!
Hair pull! Face-fart! Flying face-fart!
And then I start fighting dirty.
(laughs)
They're gonna hate you so much.
Oh, I get it.
You're here to tell the kid he can't wrestle with his grandpa.
(grunting)
I don't care if Bart is a wrestler,
a busboy,
or even a stoplight squeegee man,
as long as he's a nice person.
But if he gets too much attention for acting bad,
he might turn bad on the inside.
Eh, that's women-talk.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to comb out my curls!
One... two... three...
(crowd cheering in distance)
Beautiful Bart, can I have your autograph?
Sure. Here you go.
(hawks, spits)
(laughs)
Eh, hey, Bart,
leave some of that bad attitude for the ring.
The world is my ring now.
(laughing manically)
In this corner, for truth and justice,
Captain Flag and Half-Mast.
(crowd cheering)
Now entering the ring, the first family of foul play,
Glamorous Godfrey and Beautiful Bart!
(crowd booing)
-(sniffing) -You all stink!
(crowd shouting)
Glamorous Godfrey is dead!
(all gasp)
(crowd murmuring)
I am Honest Abe!
(all gasp)
And this is Laddie Liberty!
What are you doing?
I ain't a heel no more, I'm a good guy.
And you're a baby-face.
But-but what about the cheating?
No more cheating.
And the preening?
No more preening.
But I'm so pretty.
That's for others to say now.
What are you doing, Godfrey?
You're a villain, not some bullet-brained rail-splitter.
Without someone to hate, there's no excitement, no thrill.
I don't care. My grandson's soul is at stake.
How dare you! I wrote a song for you.
When am I ever going to use that again?
Curse you, and this morbidly obese little half-wit.
So, they only want to see a good guy
fight a bad guy, eh?
(gasps)
Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa...
(crowd gasps)
He's taking on Mean Man Monty! Go get him, Honest Abe!
This is why we go to everything in this town--
it always pays off.
(gasps)
Honest Abe, can I pin him?
Ha-ha! You know it, Laddie Liberty!
(grunting)
(crowd cheering)
Damndest boos I ever heard.
They're cheering, Grampa.
This is what I've been missing my whole life.
(cheering continues)
Oh, that was so sweet.
(sobbing softly) I wish Grampa was my dad.
(bluesy rock music playing)
Shh!
Subtitled by A. Vandelay