♪ The Simpsons ♪
(bell ringing)
(tires screech)
D'oh!
-Aah! -(tires screeching)
(liquid bubbling)
I'd like to thank everybody
who contributed to Krusty's Kanned Food Drive.
Your generous donations have made this
our slipperiest, slimiest slobstacle course ever!
(chuckles)
Our contestants will drop out of my nose
and blurp into a tub of refried beans.
From there, they'll stumble down
a sluice of rich, eggy béarnaise sauce.
How can we afford it?
It's rancid!
And at the finish line-- a scrumptious parfait
of pudding, pickle brine and detergent,
where a writhing pile of kids will grope blindly
for hot dogs.
Krusty, please, it burns!
(laughing)
Just think Lis, that's our pickle brine burning Sideshow Mel.
That Sideshow Mel thinks he's so big.
Whatever happened to Sideshow Bob?
Don't you remember, Dad?
He framed Krusty.
He tried to kill Aunt Selma.
He rigged an election.
BART: And he tried to murder me.
Oh, yeah.
But what I'll mainly remember is the laughter.
I wonder what he's doing now.
Ah, Westminster Abbey.
Edward the Confessor himself could not have done better.
Now to set the clocks to Greenwich mean time.
(laughter)
(gasps)
My dear Abbey!
♪ This is the way we mop the floor, mop the floor... ♪
Oh, must you bray night and day at that infernal television?
Oh, look who's talking.
Yeah, Bob. You used to be on this show.
Don't remind me.
My foolish capering destroyed more young minds
than syphilis and pinball combined.
Oh, how I loathe that box.
That omnidirectional sludge pump
droning and burping its...
Look here. That's enough now.
I own 60% of that network.
All right, break it up, boys.
It's time for work detail.
I suppose you don't like tabloid newspapers either.
There, that's the last condom wrapper.
(jet engine roars)
Ohh.
I renew my objection to this pointless endeavor...
informally now and by affidavit later...
time permitting.
Shut your word hole.
We got to get this place clean for the air show.
Air show?
Buzz-cut Alabamians spewing colored smoke
from their whiz jets to the strains
of "Rock You Like a Hurricane"?
What kind of country-fried rube is still impressed by that?
-Wow! -Ooh!
-That looks so cool! -Yeah.
(sadly) Yeah.
I want to meet the first female stealth bomber pilot.
During the Gulf War, she destroyed 70 mosques
and her name is Lisa, too.
I want to see some birds get sucked into the engines. Rare ones.
This year I'm making ear plugs out of biscuit dough.
(bell dings)
They're ready.
So weary.
(yawning)
GIRL (on TV): Grandma, this is
my friend Craig.
(laughter)
GRANDMA: Friend?
You mean you two aren't knocking boots?
(laughter)
Ever do the backseat mambo, Craigy?
I know that voice.
TV's bottomless chum bucket has claimed Vanessa Redgrave.
GRANDMA: Now I'm going to haul ass to Lollapalooza!
(laughter)
-(motorcycle engine revving) -Yee-ha!
Farewell, dear 'Nessa.
(20th Century Fox musical fanfare theme)
Hey, you! The state's not paying you five cents an hour to stand around.
-Now, get busy. -Oh, I'll get busy.
I'll get very busy, indeed.
(diabolical laughter)
(chuckles)
You still got it, Bob.
Way to guard the parking lot, Top Gun.
I have three medals for this.
Hey, where is Sideshow Bob
and that guy who eats people and takes their faces?
I'm right here, Chief.
Oh. Then where's Sideshow Bob?
Uh, he ran off.
Oh, great.
Well, if anyone asks, uh...
I beat him to death, okay?
Right.
At this point in time, I would like to
direct your attention to the particular air vehicle
next to which I am currently standing.
The Harrier jet is our more dollar-intensive
ordinance delivery vectors.
Five tires?
Am I seeing things?
And although it looks complicated,
it is so well-designed
even a child could fly it.
Can I fly it?
Of course you can not.
(gasps)
Free Duff!
Viva life!
Ahh.
-(register dings) -(whimpers)
Heh-heh-heh-heh.
(Milhouse imitating machine gun)
Take that, Mom!
Take that, Dad!
Send me to a psychiatrist, will you?
(imitating machine gun) Take that, Dr. Sally Waxler!
(grunting)
(whooshing)
Uh, Colonel, they're
expecting you at the podium in ten minutes.
(muttering)
(whistling)
Hmm.
What in the World According to Garp?
Those are my dress towels!
Who's in my private washroom?
McGuckett?
Let me in.
-The door already is closed. -What?
This is Colonel Leslie "Hap" Hapablap.
If you don't open that door,
I'll tear you up like a Kleenex at a snot party!
You say you're in the military?
Sweet Enola Gay, son!
I'm going to come in there and corpse you up!
Corpse you up and mail you to mama!
Well... where'd he go?
(sighs)
Got my knuckles all lined up for nothing.
(kissing)
Sorry, ladies.
(laughs)
Look at that hunk of junk.
(sputtering)
You're ignorant!
That's the Wright Brothers' plane.
At Kitty Hawk in 1903
Charles Lindbergh flew it 15 miles
on a thimble full of corn oil.
Single-handedly won us the Civil War, it did.
So how do you know so much about American history?
I pieced it together mostly from sugar packets.
(buzzing)
Authorization code.
Code?! Son, this is Colonel Hapablap.
That fool McGuckett sprayed runway foam
all over Chuck Yeager's Acura.
Now get down there with the shammy triple-time!
But, Colonel, I'm under strict orders to..
Sweet Enola Gay, son!
Get moving or I'll tear you up like a Kleenex at a--
(distastefully) ...snot party.
Sir, right away, sir!
They didn't have any aspirin
so I got you some cigarettes.
(growls)
Maybe my headache will go away once the show starts.
(feedback screeching)
Ladies and gentlemen,
what a day for an air show!
Not a cloud in the sky!
Except perhaps...
a mushroom cloud.
(diabolical laughter)
Oops.
(nervous laughter)
Oh, forget it.
HAPABLAP: "To slip the surly bonds of Earth
"and touch the face of God.
To fly"--
the dream of man and flightless bird alike.
And now, hold on tight
as we blast through
the thrilling highlights of aviation history!
(parade march playing)
Say...
did somebody say box kites?
BART: No!
♪ Up, up and away... ♪
(crowd groaning)
The common box kite was originally used
as a means of drying wet string.
(whistling)
♪ Sing a song and sail along the silver sky... ♪
Do you have to play that rock music?
Every note is pounding into my skull.
(grunts)
(whistling)
Anybody out there feel the need for speed?
-ALL: Yay! -Yay.
Then get ready for the pride
of the United States Air Force:
the British-made Harrier Jump Jet!
♪ Here I am ♪
♪ Rock you like a hurricane... ♪
Dad, why aren't you looking?
Heh-heh. Why jerk my neck around like a goon
when tyranno-vision decides what I should look at.
Whoo, look! It's Maggie!
Uh... Maggie?
-(gasping) Sideshow Bob! -(gasping)
Hello, Springfield.
Sorry to divert your attention
from all the big noises and shiny things,
but something's been troubling me lately.
Television!
Wouldn't our lives be so much richer
if television were done away with?
What?
Surely he's not talking about VH-1?
Why, we could revive the lost arts of conversation...
and scrimshaw.
Thus, I submit to you we abolish television...
permanently.
Go back to Massachusetts, pinko.
Oh, and one more thing.
I've stolen a nuclear weapon.
If you do not rid this city of television within two hours,
I will detonate it.
Farewell.
(clamoring)
By the way, I'm aware of the irony of appearing on TV
in order to decry it, so don't bother pointing that out.
(siren blaring)
Kids, everything's gonna be okay!
Don't panic! Just don't panic!
Mom, Mom! You're stepping on my heels
and knocking my shoes off!
We can always get more shoes. Move, move, move!
Stamp your hand for re-entry.
Hey...
Cool. I want to be around when those guns start going off.
Bart, no!
Wait! Wait, my children are in there!
You must be very proud, ma'am.
Our city will not negotiate with terrorists.
Is there a city nearby that will?
No need, sir.
We'll find that head case
faster than Garfield finds lasagna.
Oh... I'm sorry.
My wife thought that was gangbusters.
This elevator only goes to the basement,
and someone made an awful mess down there.
Watch out! He's got his probe!
(imitating airplane)
(imitating machine gun)
Bart! Bart!
What are you doing? We've got to get out of here.
Target sighted. Launching air-to-nerd missile.
Oww! Come on!
Mom and Dad are waiting.
Bob is not here.
We have searched every square inch of this base
and all we have found is porno, porno, porno!
We have only 20 minutes left.
Send in the esteemed representatives of television.
Hey, hey!
Now, this is my kind of meeting.
Gentlemen, it's time we face up to the un-face-up-to-able.
We must sacrifice television
in order to save the lives of our townspeople.
Whoa! Whoa-ho-ho!
Let's not go nuts.
Would it really be worth living in a world without television?
I think the survivors would envy the dead.
I appreciate your passion on behalf of your medium,
but I'm afraid we're out of options.
Television must go.
May God have mercy on our souls.
(screaming, cars collide)
And as my final newscast draws to a close
I'm reminded of a few of the events
that brought me closer to you--
The collapse of the Soviet Union,
premium ice cream price wars,
dogs that were mistakenly issued major credit cards,
and others who weren't so lucky.
And so... farewell.
And, uh, don't forget to look for my...
new column in PC World magazine.
Muchas gracias, amigos
por todas las memorias
y super gracias a Goya!
Success!
They're giving in!
Blast!
I should have made more demands.
Some decent local marmalade, for one.
Oh, well. Next time.
Agh! Not my Extendo-Glove!
Oh, they haven't made those since the war.
Oh! Not my Paris backdrop.
How am I going to make fun of the frogs?
(sobs)
Wait. If I could only stay on the air,
I'd have a hundred percent of the audience.
Think of the ratings.
Okay, so we can't go over the fence.
I feel so helpless.
What if something happens to them?
I'm sure they're fine, honey.
Well, at least they're wearing clean underwear.
Free and easy, Lis.
There's nothing like an unfurnished basement
for pure comfort.
Huh? Hurry up.
Mom and Dad are probably worried sick.
You know what really frosts my Kelvinator?
That fruit cup's probably still laughing at us
from his damn hidey hole.
I'd rather take an order from Bill Clinton
than hear that guy's snooty high-toned voice again, sir.
High-toned voice.
Bart, that's it.
I know where Sideshow Bob is hiding.
(panting) When Bob broadcast that message,
his voice was higher than normal,
and what makes your voice high?
Tight binding underwear?
Helium!
Sideshow Bob is in the Duff blimp.
(constricted voice) All Springfield trembles
before the might of Sideshow Bob.
Blasted helium.
Shoo, shoo, shoo, shoo.
Ah-hah! That's better.
Gone. Gone too.
Fabulous. Marvelous.
This is the Emergency Broadcast System.
Stand by for an urgent bulletin.
KRUSTY: Hey, hey!
(goofy laugh)
Krusty the Clown is back on the air!
Eight... no, no! 12 hours a day!
The only game in town.
Krusty? But how?
Coming at you live from the civil defense shack
in the remote alkali flats of the Springfield badlands.
I'll be beaming out 11 watts of wackiness.
Hour after hour
of unscripted, unrehearsed comedy featuring...
uh, you know... Professor Gas Can
uh... and, uh, former President Ike Eisenhower.
Let's get busy.
Oh, my utopia lies in ruins.
How naive of me to think a mere atom bomb
could fell the chattering cyclops.
(both gasping)
Well, at least I'll have my revenge.
Bob, no!
Don't you see? That would be taking the easy way out?
I agree.
(explosion)
(beeping)
Damn it, Bob.
There were plenty of brand-new bombs
but you had to go for that retro-'50s charm.
(scared gulps)
Well, if it isn't my arch nemesis
Bart Simpson and his sister Lisa
to whom I'm fairly indifferent.
So Krusty double-crossed you,
but your basic plan was pure genius.
Where do you get your ideas?
Oh, please.
Let's not embarrass us both
with that hoary old "stall the villain
with flattery" scheme.
I... should have known you were too smart to fall for that.
Really? What type of smart? Book smart?
Because there are a lot of people who are book smart
but it takes a very special type of genius to...
CHIEF WIGGUM: All right, Bob, it's over.
Come out with your hands up.
No!
How did they find me?
(Lisa gasps)
LISA: He's getting away!
Aw, not the Harrier.
We've got a war tomorrow.
God bless the idiot-proof Air Force.
They're gone!
HAPABLAP: Hell. Not the Wright Brothers' plane.
The Smithsonian's gonna have my ass on a platter.
BART: Dad!
Help!
Aaah!
Hang on, boy!
Daddy's coming to save you!
D'oh!
Mom, I found Sideshow Bob's hideout,
and I got a secret message to the police,
and I had a blimp fall on me,
and I was in an atomic blast, but I'm okay now.
Well, I wrecked the gate, but you don't hear me bragging.
Now let's roll.
Ah, for the days when aviation
was a gentleman's pursuit--
back before every Joe Sweat Sock
could wedge himself behind a lunch tray
and jet off to Raleigh-Durham.
Are you getting lots of bugs in your mouth, too?
Yes.
(spitting)
Prepare to engage enemy.
Bogie's airspeed not sufficient for intercept.
Suggest we get out and walk.
Jump, boy! I got ya!
I'm coming!
(both grunt)
Now you, boy!
(gasps) You can't escape, Bob.
If the tennis rackets don't get you, the pool skimmers will.
Whoo. I-- I never planned to escape.
You see, this is a kamikaze mission.
You and I are going to kill Krusty the Clown!
-(laughs) -(gasps)
Kids, Itchy and Scratchy can't be here today
but instead, we've got the next best thing--
It's the Stingy and Battery Show.
♪ They bite and light ♪
♪ And bite and light and bite ♪
♪ Light, light... ♪
You know what I'm talking about.
Uh-oh.
You can't kill Krusty.
He made you what you are.
Without him, you wouldn't even be called "Sideshow."
(snarling)
(loud puttering)
What the hell is that? A lawn mower?
Yah!
BART: Get out of the way, Krusty!
What is the freaking holdup?
D-i-i-i-e, Krusty!
Di..!
Oh.
(siren wailing)
Ooh, sorry.
Uh, we don't normally drive these in the Air Force.
Gotcha!
Ha-ha! You TV-hating mutant!
What is your major malfunction, Sideshow Bob?
Whoa, whoa...
Oh, my little sugar bug.
Whoa, whoa.
I'm so glad you're safe.
Whoa, whoa... mo-- mo-- Mom!
You're embarrassing me in front of the Army guys.
How ironic.
My crusade against television has come to an end so formulaic
it could have spewed
from the Powerbook of the laziest Hollywood hack.
Hey, everybody!
I'm going to haul ass to Lollapalooza!
ALL: Here we go again!
(sadly) ...go again.
(fanfare)
♪♪
Shh!
CAPTIONS ENHANCED BY ROUNDABOUT ENTERTAINMENT INC.