♪ The Simpsons ♪
(tires screech)
D'oh!
-Aah! -(tires screech)
ANNOUNCER: Live, from the famous
Brown Sands of Public Beach, Delaware,
it's the...
Oh... Saturday afternoon TV is so boring.
-ANNOUNCER: Bikini girls. -Hmm?
-Dune buggies. -All right!
-Daredevil surfers. -(gasps)
Ordinarily, this beach would be swarming with them,
but not today-- Oh, no!
They've all been cleared out
to make way for painstaking sand preparation.
That's right, Dick. You know, this year,
everyone's a-buzz about one thing:
the absence of Mark Rodkin.
Oh, wait. There he is.
(deep yawn)
Marge, I'm bored.
Why don't you read something?
Because I'm trying to reduce my boredom.
Well, you could hand out these flyers
for the neighborhood rummage sale.
You'd get some fresh air and exercise.
Eh, I'll do it anyway.
Come on, boy. We're going to see the neighbors.
Good old Evergreen Terrace...
the swankiest street
in the classiest part of Pressboard Estates.
If you love it so much, why are you always littering?
It's easier. Duh.
♪ The dream police ♪
♪ They live inside of my bed ♪
♪ The dream police ♪
♪ They come to me in my head ♪
♪ The dream police ♪
♪ They're going to direct me now ♪
♪ Oh, no... ♪
Howdy, neighbor.
May I spray you with the hose in a playful fashion?
Eh... spray the boy.
(choking)
Well, ready for the big rummage sale?
Oh, yes, indeed.
I've got nothing but time
until they fix that malfunctioning Squishee machine.
HOMER: Hey, I never noticed this place.
Dad, it's right across the street from us.
That fancy house will never sell.
Nobody who could afford it
would want to live in this neighborhood.
Hey, what's wrong with this neighborhood?
Big shot! Too good to buy a house here, snobby?
Who are you talking to, Homer?
The guy who doesn't live there.
Can we get rid of this Ayatollah t-shirt?
Khomeini died years ago.
But, Marge, it works on any Ayatollah.
Ayatollah Nakhbadeh, Ayatollah Zahedi...
even as we speak, Ayatollah Razmara
and his cadre of fanatics are consolidating their power.
I don't care who's consolidating their power.
Well, we don't need this.
But, Marge, that's the Rhinestone Nights fashion gun.
I need it to rhinestone up my old clothing.
Who's Disco Stu?
I wanted to write disco stud, but I ran out of space.
Not that Disco Stu didn't get his share of the action.
So if you're looking for a half bag of charcoal briquettes
or an artificial Christmas tree-- trunk only--
come on over to the Hibbard table, pronto.
Well, sir, looks like we got
some nice items here at table Glick.
Like this... what the heckaroonie is this, Mrs. Glick?
It is a candy dish, Ned. $90.
Uh-huh. Well, I, uh...
I guess you could put a lot of nice things in there.
No! Just candy, Ned. $90.
Well, looks like somebody sold something today.
Are you interested in that motorized tie rack,
Principal Skinner?
(motor whirring)
Hmm... it's awfully loud.
Well, you can always take the motor out
and use it as an ordinary tie rack.
But now the ties are motionless
and those in back are virtually inaccessible.
Well, it's a moot point,
as I have only one tie to begin with.
I believe I'll pass.
Have you sold that tie rack yet?
-No. -I'll take it.
Now, folks, nothing spells fun
like rhinestones on a dungaree jacket.
Stu, you should buy that.
Hey, Disco Stu doesn't advertise.
Uh... hey, Ned, let me help you with that.
Hey, everybody! Who thinks Flanders should shut up?
(all yelling in agreement)
So, anyone here from Evergreen Terrace?
(applause and cheering)
I think this is the best neighborhood in town.
Anybody agree with me?
(cheering)
You're the king, Homer!
King of the neighborhood.
Say, that Ayatollah thinks he's better than America.
Is he right?
(booing)
MAN: Yes.
Well, for only five dollars, you can sock it to him in style.
Right here!
And for the man
who has everything, a tie rack motor.
I'll take that.
(jazzy up-tempo music playing)
♪ Hey, big spender ♪
♪ Dig this blender ♪
♪ Rainbow suspenders ♪
♪ Hey, big spender ♪
ALL: ♪ We surrender ♪
♪ Spend ♪
♪ Some dough at table three ♪
(cheering and applause)
(truck horn honks)
(all murmuring)
Thank you, neighbors, thank you.
Now, let's give it up for table five.
♪ Ah, ah, ah, ah ♪
♪ Table five, table five ♪
♪ Ah, ah, ah, ah ♪
♪ Table five ♪
♪ Table five, table five... ♪
Hey, what's the big deal?
It's just some new guy moving in.
(clears throat)
Disco Stu likes disco music.
(electronic feedback)
Hi there, neighbors.
I'm... George Bush.
Former President George Bush?
(murmurs of recognition)
HOMER: Okay, let's give it up for the new guy.
Now let's all turn around and pay attention to me again.
Hello?
Wow! A former President living right across the street.
Oh! Why did he have to move in on my territory?
Look at him.
Thinks just because he led the free world
he can act like a big shot.
Stupid President.
Why couldn't he just stay in his own state?
Actually, this is one of the nine states
where Mr. Bush claims residency, Dad.
I wouldn't have voted for him
but it's nice to have a celebrity in the neighborhood.
Wait a minute.
If Lisa didn't vote for him
and I didn't vote for him...
You didn't vote for anybody.
I voted for Prell to go back to the old glass bottle.
After that, I became deeply cynical.
And your business here, Mr. Flanders?
Well, sir, I'm welcoming the Bushes
on behalf of the Neighborhood Association.
Never mind about that, Ray.
Just give them a quick pass with the metal detector
and let them on in.
Hey, Bar! The neighbors are here.
Howdily-doodily there, President Bush
or should I say President neighbor?
I'm Ned Flanders and this is Maude, Rod and Todd.
Well, howdily-doodily yourself there, Ned.
This is my wife, Barbara.
Call her Bar. Would you like some lemonade?
-Tip-top-notch! -Okily-dokily.
Thankily-dankily.
Greatalicious!
Scrumpdiddlerific!
BOTH: Fine and dandy like sour candy.
Bar's a whiz with cold drinks
aren't you, Bar?
Don't understand lemonade myself.
Not my forte.
What brings you to Springfield?
Well, George and I
just wanted to be private citizens again...
go where nobody cared about politics.
So we found the town
with the lowest voter turnout in America.
Just happy to be here among good, average people
with no particular hopes or dreams.
But, Mr. President, we're not all good people.
There's one little boy you should watch out for.
He's a bad, bad little boy.
(laughing nervously)
Now, Todd, don't scare the President.
(panting)
Huh... look at those phonies, sucking up to Bush.
(whimpering)
(barking)
I guess you might say he's barking up the wrong Bush.
HOMER'S BRAIN: There it is, Homer.
The cleverest thing you'll ever say and nobody heard it.
D'oh!
Ah!
Just going to relax
with my U.S. News and World whatnot.
Oh, good.
They're roasting the new guy.
(imitating Dennis the Menace) Hello... Mr. Bush!
George...
this is a neighborhood boy, Bart Simpson.
He came over to say hi.
(quietly) Hello.
Hi! Hey, what's this?
My electric card shuffler. Don't go near the--
Now, I told you.
Oh... those cards were from Air Force One
and they only give you so many packs.
Oh, George, boys will be boys.
Bart's just being friendly.
Why don't you get off that sofa and show Bart your photos?
Oh, he'll gunk them all up.
His hands are probably covered with mud and cookies.
Well...
(muttering) Probably stole a napkin.
Who's that, George?
That's me with Charlton Heston. He was...
Who's that, George?
Now see, you wouldn't know him.
That's Bob Mosbacher, He was Secretary of...
That's a dumb name. Who's that, George?
Maybe he thinks Bart is a dumb name.
How many times were you President, George?
Just once.
Bar, isn't it time for dinner yet?
I'm making rice. It'll be a while.
Did your Secret Service goons
ever whack anybody, George?
You know, in my day,
little boys didn't call their elders by their first names.
Yeah, well, welcome to the 20th century, George.
(muttering) I'll kick you right out of the 20th century, you little...
(tires screeching)
Oh, man! I only got one minute till they stop serving
those breakfast balls. D'oh!
Let's see now.
What do you folks have here, huh?
Hmm, a Krusty Burger.
That doesn't sound too appetizing.
What kind of stew do you have today?
Uh, we don't have stew.
(honking)
Sir, why don't you just have the cheeseburger?
Oh, that's really more of a weekend thing, Ray.
Hey, jerk! Move your fanny!
That guy is louder than World War II.
Ray, go see what the rhubarb is, will you?
(honking)
Sir, could you pop your hood?
(horn braying)
Hey! My taxes paid for that horn.
Why, hello, Mrs. Bush.
Hi, Bart.
Mr. Bush is upstairs napping.
You know, your husband's awful grumpy.
Oh, that's just his way.
He really likes you.
You know, it's time for him to get up
and work on his memoirs.
Why don't you go wake him?
(horn sounding)
What? What the--
Great Scott, don't touch that.
That's the alpenhorn Helmut Kohl gave me.
Where'd you get those pajamas?
They're presidential pajamas.
You have to be president, and you're not president.
Yes, I am.
No, you're not! Bar!
Hey, where's your candy?
We don't have any. Now, go away.
George!
Older people don't eat much candy, Bart
but I could bake you some cookies if you like.
(muttering) Can't remember the last time she made cookies for me.
-What's that? -Oh, nothing.
HOMER: All right.
His story checks out.
Marge, would you love me more if I were President?
'Cause I'll do it if it'll make you happy.
Homie, as long as you keep
the car full of gas, I'm happy.
Well, she can always depend on that.
-(typing) -And since I'd achieved
all my goals as President in one term
there was no need for a second.
Hmm... good memoirs.
Good, not great.
Now, let's look at that old outboard.
Soup that baby up, rattle a few windows
down in Kennebunkport next May.
Hello... Mr. Bush!
What you doing?
Don't upset the desk there.
Careful! Don't want to horse around with...
Hey, cool! What does this do?
Now don't you pull that cord, young man!
(engine revving)
GEORGE: Now look what you did. Whoops! Hey!
Bar, my motor's gone loco!
Oh! The birdhouse.
My prize orchids!
Oh, no! Not the memoirs.
Don't even think about it.
Not gonna happen.
(groans)
(engine stops)
Whoa, man.
Whoa, nothing.
I'm going to do something
your Daddy should have done a long time ago.
Now go home and think about what you've done, young man.
He spanked you?
You? Bart Simpson?
I begged him to stop
but he said it was for the good of the nation.
Big deal.
When I was a pup, we got spanked by Presidents
till the cows came home.
Grover Cleveland spanked me
on two non-consecutive occasions.
Grampa, I know in your day, spanking was common
but Homer and I just don't believe
in that kind of punishment.
And that's why your no-good kids are running wild!
First, Bush invades my home turf,
then he takes my pals,
then he makes fun of the way I talk... probably.
Now he steals my right
to raise a disobedient, smart-alecky son!
Well, that's it!
Hey, Bush!
Get out here!
Excuse me, sir. Where are you going?
I'm going to punch George Bush in the face.
Okay. Is he expecting you?
You owe me an apology.
Hey, you owe me an apology.
If you were any kind of a father
you'd have disciplined that boy a long time ago.
You want to step back, sir?
-You're trampling the flowers. -Ooh!
Hiding behind your goons, eh, Bush?
Oh!
Well, you are a wimp!
Wimp... am I?
Agent Johnson?
Agent Heintz?
You men, stand down.
All right, mister.
You want trouble, you're going to get trouble.
Oh, I want trouble, all right.
Then you're going to get trouble.
No, you're going to get trouble.
Oh, that's good, that's good 'cause I want trouble.
Then we're agreed
there'll be trouble.
Oh, yeah, lots of trouble.
-Trouble, it is. -For you.
-For... D'oh! -(door slams)
(chuckles) This is gonna be sweet.
200 bottle rockets, and George Bush
doing toe-touches by an open window.
BART: If you get one up his butt,
it's a million points.
(sizzling)
(whistling)
(booming)
BARBARA: Why don't you just
say you're sorry, George?
Because I'm right.
Oh, no.
I'm going to fix their wagon good.
I've pulled some pranks in my time.
(rattling)
DR. HIBBERT: Uh, I don't understand.
Are you saying you and Barbara are bad neighbors?
No, that's not Bar and me, it's them.
Who? Maude and me?
No, the man and his boy.
You know, the... the boy is named Bart.
I don't know the name of the man.
Bar, what's the name of the man?
I'm not getting involved, George.
Look, just never mind.
I thought the banner
was pretty straightforward
but... guess I'll just take it down.
BARBARA: George...
it's time to get dressed.
Nuh-uh. I'm not going outside today,
not with those neighbors.
Staying right here till my speech to the Elks Club.
(knocking)
HOMER: Yoo-hoo.
Who is it?
HOMER: It's your sons, George Bush, Jr. and Jeb Bush.
Come outside, Dad.
Oh, good.
Bar, the boys are out in the front yard.
They'll help me think of a plan
to get those Simpsons.
Oh, George, is that all you ever think about?
The boys probably just want a letter of recommendation.
Boys? Where you going?
Okay, son, give him the glue.
(Homer grunting)
(Homer and Bart laughing)
HOMER: Hey, looking good!
GEORGE: And that's why I will continue
to oppose teen alcoholism in all its forms.
Now, are there any questions?
Keeping in mind that I already explained about my hair.
(mumbling) Oh, yeah, that's right.
(engine revving)
(tires squealing)
(mud splattering)
President Bush is driving on our lawn.
He must be lost.
He's not lost.
Looks like we're experiencing
some blow-back from the wig offensive.
It's time to hit him where he lives.
His house?
Bingo.
So I thought to myself
'what would God do in this situation?'
(buzzing)
(snickering) Locusts...
They'll drive him nuts.
It's all in the Bible, son.
It's the prankster's Bible.
(engine revving)
Hmm. Can't decide if this'll be considered feisty or crazy.
Hey! Hey, what the..?
Ohh, if he thinks George Bush will stay out of the sewer
he doesn't know George Bush.
Hey, turkeys, behind you.
For the last time, Bush, apologize for spanking my boy.
Never.
You make him apologize for destroying my memoirs.
You didn't tell me you destroyed his memoirs.
Never!
Yay, Dad!
I really feel awful about your lawn, Marge.
George can be so stubborn
when he thinks he's right.
Well, Homer too. They're so much alike.
Too bad they got off on the wrong foot.
It's just like the Noriega thing.
Now, he and George are the best of friends.
(both panting)
Here's a little something we learned in C.I.A.
(buzzing)
Get him, boys.
(buzzing)
(doorbell ringing)
Hello?
(buzzing)
I'll ruin you like a Japanese banquet.
I'll take your head, and...
Gorbachev.
(nervous chuckling)
What are you doing here?
I just dropped by with present for warming of house.
Instead, find you grappling with local oaf.
Oh, brought some of your commie friends
to help you fight dirty, eh?
But, Mikhail, he put a wig on my head,
my memoirs...
BARBARA: George...
this is the last straw.
You apologize to Homer right now.
But, Bar, we can't show any weakness
in front of the Russians.
George.
Yes, dear.
(speaking Russian)
(laughing)
Okay.
I'm sorry I spanked your boy, Homer.
Woo hoo!
In your face, Bush!
Now, apologize for the tax hike.
It's a shame it didn't work out, Marge
but George just felt this neighborhood
brought out the worst in him, and...
(honking)
Oh, my.
Well, so long.
Bye-bye.
Hi.
Pleased to meet you. I just moved in.
My name is Jerry Ford.
(gasping)
Former President Gerald Ford?
Put her there. I'm Homer Simpson.
Say, Homer, do you like football?
Do I ever?
Do you like nachos?
Yes, Mr. Ford.
Well...
why don't you come over
and watch the game and we'll have nachos
and then, some beer.
Oohh..
Jerry, I think you and I
are going to get along just...
-D'oh! -D'oh!
♪♪
Shh.
CAPTIONS ENHANCED BY ROUNDABOUT ENTERTAINMENT INC.