♪ The Simpsons ♪
(bell rings)
(tires screech)
D'oh!
-Aah! -(tires screech)
Oh, my God.
The Mad Magazine Special Edition!
They only put out 17 of these a year!
Boy, they're really socking it
to that Spiro Agnew guy again.
He must work there or something.
Let's do the fold-in.
Okay.
"What higher power do TV evangelists worship?"
I'll say God.
I'll say Jesus.
BOTH: The all mighty dollar?
You fold it, you bought it.
Ooh! Snappy answers to stupid questions.
I'm great at these.
Ask me if something smells funny in here, boy.
Does something smell funny in here?
I don't think so... stupid!
(laughs)
Homey, you want pork chops?
No, I want roast beef, you clod!
(laughs)
Look at this special insert-- "Iron-on Madness!"
(laughing) "Ban the bath."
"Don't trust anyone over ten."
"Sock it to me!"
(worried groan)
Those magazines create a dangerous amount of laughter.
"The all ighty
ollar?"
(laughs)
I get it.
Gee, business stinks tonight.
Where's Barney, Lenny, and Carl?
Ah, they never come around anymore
now that they got their mistresses.
Ah, might as well close the dump.
I am going to drink you under the table.
No, I am going to drink you under the...
-Aw. -Aw.
(yawning) Well, you're closing.
It's getting late.
My kids are probably wondering where their daddy is.
There's got to be some other place we can go.
Think, Moe, think!
(voice cracking) Sorry. It's league night.
I couldn't give a lane to my own mother.
I have no son.
Man, you go through life,
you try to be nice to people,
you struggle to resist the urge
to punch 'em in the face and for what?
For some pimply little puke to treat you like dirt
unless you're on a team!
Well, I'm better than dirt!
Well, most kinds of dirt.
Not that fancy store-bought dirt.
That stuff's loaded with nutrients.
I can't compete with that stuff.
That I cannot bowl wreaks havoc with my self-esteem as well.
But who am I to complain?
I'm tired of being a wannabe league bowler.
I wanna be a league bowler.
(bell dings)
Hey...
We can be a team.
Excuse me, but my team is ready to bowl!
You're short one person.
Uh... that long-haired freak's
bowled with us for years.
Oh I don't care if it takes me all night.
I'm going to get me that lobster harmonica.
Come on, lobstie!
Oh!
Oh, okay.
Then I just need your $500 registration fee.
$500?
No problem.
Would you take an out-of-state
two-party bad check?
No, I will not pay you $500 for sex!
Aw, come on, Marge!
You're getting something in return
and I'm getting a bowling team. It's win-win!
It's sick! And I don't have that kind of money to spend on sex.
Maybe you could get someone with money
to sponsor your team... like Mr. Burns.
Burns never gives money to anybody.
Just last week, I asked him for $1,500.
For what?
Aw, I gotta get the third degree from you too?!
Tonight's homework assignment is...
Oh, man. Is it hot in here!
I better take off my sweater!
"Down...
"with...
...homework?"
(class laughs)
Don't look at it, children.
The shirt makes a good point.
I'm with the shirt.
Homework rots.
(chanting) Down with homework!
(coughing)
As I was saying, my yearly evaluation
couldn't have come at a better time.
Well, Seymour, I must say, for once I am impressed.
In fact, I am going to give this school
a perfect 10.
I'll just write the zero first.
Now a vertical line to indicate the one...
STUDENTS: Down with homework!
Skinner!
Why are there children walking on my head?!
(gasps)
So... we meet again "Mad Magazine."
How do you know it's from Mad?
The year was 1968.
We were on recon
in a steaming Mekong delta.
An overheated private removed his flak jacket
revealing a t-shirt with an iron-on
sporting the Mad slogan, "Up with mini-skirts."
Well, we all had a good laugh
even though I didn't quite understand it.
But our momentary lapse of concentration
allowed Charlie to get the drop on us.
I spent the next three years in a P.O.W. camp
forced to subsist on a thin stew
made of fish, vegetables, prawns, coconut milk,
and four kinds of rice.
I came close to madness
trying to find it here in the states
but they just can't get the spices right.
Uh, my punishment?
Hmm? Oh. I'm going to have to think about that.
Meanwhile, wear this home.
No!
I need some more ether.
I can still feel the movement of the emery board.
We're fresh out, sir.
I'll get some more.
Leave the rag.
(sniffs)
Mmm!
Uh, excuse me. Mr. Burns?
Poppin' Fresh!
You glutinous little doughboy!
Oh, there's something I've wanted to do to you for years!
(giggles)
(giggling)
Ow!
Mr. Burns... I, uh, was wondering
if you'd like to sponsor my bowling team for $500.
Oh, why certainly, Poppin' Fresh.
I owe my robust physique
to your tubes of triple-bleached goo.
Whoo-hoo!
Hey, everybody!
If you want to ask Burns for a favor, now's the time!
He's doped up or dying or something!
Uh, excuse me.
I'd like to request $17
for a push-broom rebristling.
Why, it's that delightful TV leprechaun!
I'm going to get your Lucky Charms!
(drill grinding)
MOLEMAN: Oh, no. My brains.
Hey, nice, quote "uniforms", end quote.
This just in-- a new addition to our "Worst-Dressed list":
Those guys!
Forget this. I am far too fragile
to withstand an evening of barbs like that.
Aw, come on. If we quit now
we'll never know how badly they're going to beat us.
Yeah, you're right.
That's the kind of thing that would haunt you.
Si!
(laughing) Buenas noches, señoritas.
What did he say? What did he say?
Was that about me?
Okay, Otto. Pressure's on.
Don't choke, don't choke, don't choke, don't...
choke!
Oh, man! I knew I was going to choke.
Well, that's a funny-looking strike.
Come on, guys, let's be the team that supports each other.
(cheering) You can do it, Otto! You can do it, Otto!
"Help each other out" That'll be our motto.
You can do it, Otto! You can do it, Otto!
Make this spare, I give you free Gelato.
Then back to my place, where I will get you blotto.
Domo aregatto, Mr. Roboto.
You can do it, Otto! You can do it...
Guys, I Made the spare. We won.
All right! Way to go!
We did it!
Those beers are five dollars apiece.
-Let me set the scene for you, Marge. -All right.
It's a 7-10 split, the hardest shot in bowling.
It was all up to me.
Oh!
So I got up all my courage right away.
My lips started to move
and I came up with the chant that won the match!
Who knocked down the pins?
I don't know... You know, some guy, uh...
Otto, I guess.
Good for him!
Yes, but Marge, you're not-- You're missing the point!
The individual doesn't matter.
It was a team effort
and I was the one
who came up with the whole "team" idea!
Me!
I can't believe Otto picked up a 7-10 split.
He's phenomenal!
-But, but-- -Wow!
Several days ago, a violent riot erupted
incited by an inflammatory t-shirt slogan.
No, no, now, don't try to remember what that slogan was.
To ensure that this frenzied dance of destruction
is never repeated, I have decided, starting Monday
all students will be required to wear uniforms.
ALL: Uniforms?!!
(Herb Alpert & Tijuana Brass' "Spanish Flea" playing)
Say hello to our little genius Martin
who looks even smarter
in this vest and short pant combination
from Mr. Boy of Main Street.
Or how about little Lisa Simpson?
She'll have no reason to play the blues
in this snappy ensemble
topped off with a saucy French beret
that seems to scream, "silence."
All right, pick your size: "extra-small" or "extra-large."
We've got both.
No pushing now, I-- What?
Oh, I've just been informed we've run out of "extra-large."
Go, Moe! Go, Moe!
Don't make Homer shout out "D'oh!"
(cheering)
Woo-hoo!
-(pins clatter) -(cheering)
All right, Snake, make us proud.
One, two, three...
(rapidly) four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Bye!
Uh... we forfeit.
(cheering)
There it is, boys: the Championship Trophy.
We will never possess it.
The Holy Rollers have won it five years in a row.
MOE: They think they're so high and mighty
just 'cause they never got caught driving without pants.
(ridiculing laughter)
God-boy couldn't get a strike!
(laughing)
It's me-- Ned.
(laughing)
(screaming)
Mom! My slingshot doesn't fit in these pockets!
And these shorts leave nothing to the imagination.
These uniforms suck.
Bart, where do you pick up words like that?
Yeah, Moe, that team sure did suck last night.
They just plain sucked!
I've seen teams suck before
but they were the suckiest bunch of sucks
that ever sucked.
Homer! Watch your mouth!
Got to go. My damn wiener kids are listening.
We are not wieners!
Then what are you dressed like that for?
BOTH: They made us.
"Oh, they made us." That's loser talk.
You got to start acting more like me and my team--
the future league champions of the world.
Nothing's going to stop us now.
Stop everything.
I don't remember writing a check for bowling.
Sir, that's a check for your "boweling."
Oh, yes. That's very important.
Yes, sir. Remember that month you didn't do it?
Yes. That was unpleasant for all concerned.
Anyway, back to the checks...
Stop everything!
I don't remember writing a check for bowling!
Hmm... the memo says "To my pal, Poppin' Fresh."
Oh, yes... that greedy, grasping glob of chemicals.
Probably one of your ether-induced hallucinations, sir.
I'll check the employee files
to see who could pull off
such an impersonation.
Hmm, it was either Pops Freshenmeyer...
or Homer Simpson.
Simpson, eh?
Let's shut down this bowling scam right now.
Come on, Homer. Come on, Homer.
Pretend this is baseball and hit us a Homer!
-Way to go! -Yeah! Yeah!
-Way to roll it. -Yes, sir! Oh, yes.
By the way, rhyming "Homer" with "Homer"--
(making Italian kissing sound)
Look at them, Smithers, enjoying their embezzlement.
I have a much uglier word for it, sir:
"misappropriation."
Simpson!
(gasps, man screams)
Listen here...
I want to join your team.
You want to join my what?
You wanna "what" his team?
I've had one of my unpredictable
changes of heart.
Seeing these fine young athletes
reveling in the humiliation of a vanquished foe...
I haven't felt this energized since my last...
boweling.
Oh, man, he'll blow our winning streak.
Yeah... call this an unfair generalization if you must
but old people are no good at everything.
Look, guys, it's not that simple-- he's my boss.
I'll tell you what.
I'll give him a shot
and if he stinks it'll be easier to tell him no.
(grunting and groaning)
(panting)
(muttering)
Welcome aboard.
(softly) It wasn't any easier.
Ah, these uniforms are a godsend.
Horseplay is down 40%.
Youthful exuberance has been cut in half,
and high spirits are at an all-time low.
They've even begun blinking in unison.
I love that sound.
Now, children
while you're having quiet time I'm going to make sure my desk
is exactly parallel to the rear wall.
Oh, there's something I used to do
in this situation.
But... can't... remember.
Ha ho?
Whoa, I can't believe
I got booted off the team for Mr. Businessman.
(snorts)
I bet I'll get a little respect
once I get that Harvard diploma.
Look at that!
All the way to the end with only one push.
Ah, that's the third game in a row he cost us, Homer.
Mama mia!
Hoot mon!
Yee haw!
Arr, me maties.
Arr!
Whoo! They begged me to join their team.
Begged me.
Well, we certainly got walloped tonight
eh, fellas?
(laughs)
Ow!
Well... ow!
Uh, Mr. Burns, next week
is the big championship game...
Ah, yes, that silly championship...
The only "ship" worth a damn is friendship.
Look, here comes the friend ship
sailing your way.
Ooh, here.
Let me get that, friend.
Oops, lost a nail.
Well, that's leprosy for you.
You're "it."
Now you are the one who is "it."
Understood.
Well, I've got to hand it to you, Seymour.
These drab student coverings
have created the perfect distraction-free environment
thus preparing the children for permanent positions
in tomorrow's mills and processing facilities.
Best of all, with less than a minute to go before I leave
absolutely nothing has gone wrong.
(thunder rumbling)
Well, it is starting to rain
but I can hardly be blamed for that, can I?
(both laughing)
Yes, very good.
Wow, look at all the colors, man!
Red, green, yellow, orange.
I remember all of these.
I'm freakin' out!
Hey, something's coming back to me.
Down with homework.
And down with uniforms.
(cheering)
Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!
Skinner!
Why aren't these uniforms colorfast?
I don't understand it.
I got them at the same place I buy mother's dresses.
Good Lord, Mother's in the park.
Now this, I gotta see.
Aw, Marge, we were so close to winning the championship.
Now, thanks to Burns, it's never going to happen.
And I spent so much time building that trophy case.
Homer, maybe Mr. Burns will bowl a great game
and you will win your championship.
So you're saying we're definitely going to win?
Whoo-hoo!
I won't need this any more!
(toilet flushing repeatedly)
Marge, someone broke the toilet.
Don't worry about nothing, Homer.
I have a feeling that Mr. Burns
is going to have a little accident
that might keep him
from bowling with us tonight.
Heh, heh, heh.
Smithers, I'm afraid
I won't be able to play tonight.
My old gimpy knee has gone akimbo again.
Take that!
Ooh... Smithers.
That precision assault popped it back into place.
Thank you, masked stranger.
D'oh, he's gonna ruin everything.
All right, that's it, Homer.
Either Burns goes or Moe goes.
Yes, I am afraid that I am going to have to make
a similar threat
with my name in place of Moe's name.
So, who's ready to kick
some Christian keister?
Oh, uh, Mr. Burns, as team captain
it's my duty to inform you that...
Oh, I almost forgot.
I brought you all a little something.
Aw, would you look at that?
"The Pin Pals."
(gasps)
At last, I finally have a garment
fine enough to be married in.
I've always been wealthy
but this is the first time I ever felt rich.
Aww!
Now Homer, you were about to say something to me?
You're off the team.
What?
(nervous laughter)
Homer!
He's just ribbing you, Monty.
-Yes! -Oh-oh-oh, you guys.
(grunt)
Hey-hey-hey!
Hallelujah!
-Hey! -Hallelujah!
-Oh! -Oh!
Nice one, Homer.
Thanks.
Okay, the Holy Rollers are ahead by one pin.
And we only have one bowler left: Mr. Burns.
(grunts)
Next time, a few steps more toward center, don't you think?
Goodbye, trophy.
Whoa! Whatever I got a hold of, it's big.
(grunting)
Yes!
Excellent!
Yes!
(plays harmonica note)
Whoo-hoo! We won! We won!
You mean I won.
But we were a team, sir.
Oh, I'm afraid I've had one
of my trademark changes of heart.
You see teamwork will only take you so far
then the truly evolved person
makes that extra grab for personal glory. Now...
I must discard my teammates
much like the boxer
must shed roll after roll
of sweaty, useless, disgusting flab
before he can win the title. Ta!
I guess some people never change.
Or they quickly change and then quickly change back.
You know what?
We don't need him or his trophy.
We got each other, huh?
Yeah, that's right, Moe.
♪ Go, Homer, you're our man ♪
♪ If you can't do it, no one can! ♪
(burglar alarm blaring)
(screams)
Well, I guess no one can.
Run, before they're through feeding!
-(snarling) -(shouting)
♪♪
Shh.
CAPTIONS ENHANCED BY ROUNDABOUT ENTERTAINMENT INC.