All language subtitles for Married.with.children.S08E09.SAiNTS.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

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Oh, quick, Bud.

Change the channel.
It's sweeps month...

...so Christian Slater's
gonna show America his butt.

Kelly, now, this may come
as a surprise to you...

...then again, the fact
that people can ride...

...upright in the backseat of a car
came as a surprise to you.

There are far more important things
than Christian Slater's butt.

Now, for instance, the president's
giving an important press conference.

We interrupt the press conference...

...for live coverage
of Christian Slater's butt.

Move over, kids.
It's time for our favorite talk show.

But, Mom, we were watching
the president's press conference.

That jogging's
been doing him some good.

Live, from Chicago...

...it's Jerry Springer,
the masculine feminist.

Good evening, women,
I'm Jerry Springer...

...and I am proud to be living
in your world.

Before we start, I wanna take a moment
to apologize on behalf of all men...

...for the disgusting way
Burt has mistreated Loni.

Good move, Burt.

And Cop and 1/2? Good movie too.

I mean, when are men
gonna realize...

...that women are this world's
most precious natural resource?

Except, of course, for our sponsor.

I Can't Believe It's A Tampon.

It feels so natural you're gonna wish
it was always that time of the month.

A masculine feminist.
What does that mean?

It means he likes show tunes.

Would that they all did.

Jerry has the hottest
talk show around.

Is he gonna show his butt?

Jerry is politically correct.

He's keeping his butt
covered until all women are free.

I wish Al would.

At least until all women
were warned.

Well, Jerry's not just a talker.
He's a doer.

Last week he found out there was no
bowling alley in this part of town...

...with a ladies-only night.
So Jerry did something about it.

We had a bloat-in.

A hundred of us waited
until we were really grumpy...

...then stormed the bowling alley and
chained ourselves to the ball returns.

Which, in hindsight,
turned out to be an error.

At least those little blower things
were kind of enjoyable.

But what's important
is that Jerry helped women...

...finally get a bowling night,
which is tonight.

- Some guys lost their bowling night.
- Yeah, I wonder who.

Hi, honey. I'm home.

Why am I early
on what used to be my bowling night?

Good question.
Thank you for asking.

Well, as I entered the bowling alley
ready for an exciting night...

...of bonding, brewskies
and barfing...

...what did I see?
Women. Bowling. Overhand.

Naturally, I went up
to one of these donut depositories...

...and said in my nicest voice:

"Wedge it out the door, beefalo,
it's my night to bowl."

Instead of coming back at me verbally,
like I did...

...they took their doughy fists
and they pounded on me...

...until a mutual agreement
was reached that I leave.

Anyway, when I regained
consciousness in a burning trash can...

...I realized, A, Thursday nights
is now ladies' night...

...and B, you don't wanna know
how a bum puts out a trash-can fire.

Congratulations
to those fine women in Chicago...

...for what they achieved
at Jim's Bowl-A-Rama.

That's the pantywaist that cost me
my bowling night.

Now we've gotta get the bowling alley
to enlarge the women's restroom.

And what about mothers
who wanna nurse?

I propose a lactation lounge.

I propose a dairy farmer.

Quiet, Klingon.

Let's take some phone calls.

Well, believe you me,
this outrage shall not go unavenged.

- Al, don't you think women deserve--
- No!

Just don't embarrass us, honey.

- Is the caller there?
- Al Bundy here.

Too late.

Now, listen here, Jerry.
Bowling is a man's sport.

If God had wanted women to bowl,
he would've put breasts on backs...

...so we would have something to watch
while waiting our turn.

And where are you
calling from, sir, 1952?

I wish. Ike was in the White House,
women were in the kitchen...

...and you were in the closet.

And you forgot to mention
where you were, sir.

I suspect in a zoo someplace, throwing
your feces at a passing tourist.

Once again, I wish.

Enough of that call.
Let's take another one.

You and your thundering herds...

...may think you won,
but let me tell you something.

Thursday nights have always been
men's bowling nights.

And mark my words.
Next Thursday men will be bowling!

All right, nice spare, Jim.

If you shift
your weight to your rear foot--

This is ridiculous.
I worked hard all week.

I'm not gonna sit home
on bowling night.

Well, we can't go back
to the bowling alley.

Those women are too strong.

We can't go home. We're too weak.

Hey, I got it.
We can go to a movie.

- Hey, yeah.
- Yeah.

Hey, Peg.

Peg, do we have a paper?

Thank you.

All right, let's see what's playing.

Hey!

Here's a gripping drama
about a newlywed couple...

...waiting for their furniture to arrive.

It's called, Where, Oh,
Where is the Mayflower Man?

- Any boobs?
- William Hurt and Glenn Close.

- Oh, jeez.
- Sounds like it blows.

We could go to the newsstand
and buy a magazine.

- Yeah, but where could we hide it?
- How about in your wife's hair?

How about in your wife's chin?

- Come on, now!
- Come on.

Come on, they're making us turn
against each other.

- There must be something we can do.
- I know where we can go.

To the last great bastion
for the American red-blooded male.

Where there is no such thing
as ladies' night.

At the nudie bar!

Where a buck's enough
to see their stuff.

At the nudie bar!

Where the breasts may be fake,
but, man, do they shake.

At the nudie bar!

Where you swear like a sailor
and wish you could nail her.

At the nudie bar!

Where the cops are at the door
and there's a Kennedy on the floor.

At the nudie bar!

Nudie bar.

Hey, this is great.
It's better than bowling.

You can work up a sweat
without working up a sweat.

You know, I haven't been in here
since they jazzed up the place.

And they even put up a curtain.

And the mirrors are gone.

Well, some things don't change.

Gentlemen, present dollars.

Hooters! Hooters! Hooters! Hoot--!

Tonight...

...I would like to dedicate
this poem...

...to my ovaries.

I don't think
we're in Kansas anymore.

My eggs, my eggs

He begs, he begs
To be the father of my eggs

My eggs, my eggs

Oh, swim to meet my eggs

Boy, they really hit us
where it hurts this time.

Turning the nudie bar
into a coffee house.

What're we gonna do
with our Saturday nights?

We could play bonbon toss
with your wife.

Yeah, we can play peanut toss
with the elephant you call your wife.

Come on.

Doesn't the Constitution
guarantee us the right to life...

...nudity and the pursuit
of happiness?

Are you sure that's "nudity"?

Life, nudity, yeah.

This is the last straw.

I say it's time we stood up
to the onslaught of this "womaninity."

They've taken everything.

I say it's time that we take
something away from them.

Live, from Chicago...

...it's Jerry Springer,
the masculine fe--

Tonight's broadcast
of The Masculine Feminist...

...has been commandeered
by the secret society "No Ma'am."

National Organization of Men
Against Amazonian Masterhood.

I would reveal my true identity,
but for political reasons, I cannot.

But do not take me lightly.

I once scored four touchdowns
in a single game for Polk High.

Hey, Daddy once scored
four touchdowns too.

That is Daddy, you mud flap.

And that's Mr. D'Arcy,
and Mr. Anderson and Bob Rooney.

Boy, if Marcie finds out about this
she'll be down there in a second.

Gee, I wonder if she's watching.

Well, I guess so.

Every day for the past 30 years...

...you high-heeled pit bulls
have blamed us for everything.

From not being able
to get into Harvard...

...to not being able
to get into stretch pants.

We've been called "pigs."

We've been called "scum."

We've even been called
"plywood-bottom."

Or at least I have.

Well, we're sick and tired of this.
Now, we have a list of demands.

If these demands are not met we are
going to take this masculine feminist...

...and perform television's
first "sexorcism."

Tell them what that is, Jefferson.

- My name is Hank.
- Oh, right.

- Sorry, Hank.
- That's okay, Al.

Anyway...

...if our demands go unheeded...

...not only will we force Jerry
to watch hours of pro wrestling...

...but we'll force him
to watch it in these.

A stinky, yellowed undershirt...

...and a pair of boxers which read:

"It's all me."

"It's all me" boxers,
courtesy of Mr. Bob Rooney.

I mean, Dirk Rooney.

Back to you, Al-- Clyde.

Hell.

Demand one:

You gals want a ladies' night?

Try having it in the kitchen,
cooking for a man.

Demand two:

Don't put on a dress and ask us
if it makes you look fat.

We hate that.

Besides, it's not the dress
that makes you look fat.

It's the fat that makes you look fat.

Demand three:

Don't ask us to talk
or cuddle after sex.

Or before sex, or during sex.
You're lucky we take our pants off.

You take your pants off?

How do you get them
over your shoes?

Demand four:

Don't ask us to say I love you
over the phone.

It's hard enough to say to someone...

...we're paying a dollar
a minute to talk to.

Demand five:
Stop talking about Fabio.

Yeah. With his long, flowing
blond hair and 48-inch chest...

...we're the ones
who should be talking about...

Anyway, those are our five demands.

We had five more written down...

...but somebody couldn't
blow his nose without a hanky.

So, ladies, you've got 30 minutes--

Which, of course,
is two hours in woman's time.

--to address these demands,
or we'll--

We'll--

- Ready.
- Break!

Or we'll go for burgers.

It didn't make any sense, did it?
Wait a minute.

What about Berkowitz?

We could change our name to that.

- No.
- Can't spell it.

Let's see, what about--?
What about Borden?

Can't spell that either.

- What can you spell?
- Cat.

So let's go to the K's.

Now, I don't want everyone to think...

...that we at No Ma'am
are totally anti-woman...

...so we found a typical working
woman. I'd like to introduce her to you.

Coming live to you from the Club
Squish, Miss Bubbles Double Dee.

Ms. Dee.

You're a working woman.

What do you think of Roe v. Wade?

Gee, I don't know
that much about boxing.

But I'd like to go out to dinner
with whoever wins.

Let's take some questions
from our audience, shall we?

All right.

Would you jump up and down?

Yes.

All right, next question.

Can you do that again?

I'll try.

All right, all right, all right.
Now there, a typical working woman.

Al Bundy, you sloth.

You toad. You two-toed sloth.

This is no man.

This is Al "Oink Oink" Bundy.

Why the mask, Al? Take it off.
Let the world see your snout.

You call yourself a--

Stop it.

You call yourself a man,
but you're a coward.

- You're all cowards.
- Yeah!

- Honey, did you shut off the phone?
- Yes.

- Stop the mail?
- Yup.

- Did you cancel the newspaper?
- Yes.

But won't the D'Arcy's be mad?
I mean, it's their paper.

Honey, the D'Arcy's
have bigger problems.

All right, Bud and Kelly Kat.

Let's go.

The Kat family.

Good choice, you blond airhead.

Mom, do you know
where we're gonna live?

No. But wherever it is
at least we'll be together...

...unless I can find someplace great.

Now, about your demand
to not talk during sex?

The only reason we ask you to...

...is so that we know
when you're finished.

Oh, yeah? Well--

- You're a chicken.
- Yeah!

And if it's true we spend
so little time in the kitchen...

...then how come you spend
so much time in the bathroom?

Because--

Because...

- ...you're a chicken!
- Yeah!

So in conclusion...

...we don't wanna take over
everything...

...we just want equality,
fairness, to be appreciated.

After all, you need us
more than we need you.

You're in No Ma'am's land now, baby.

So let's set the record straight.

You need us jar-opening,
oil-changing, spider-squishing...

...furniture-rearranging men
a lot more than we need you.

Yeah!

All right, you have a point.

There are some occasions
when women do need men.

Yes!

Well, like tonight for instance.

I need some men
so I'm going to call them.

Oh, gentlemen.

You again, Bundy?

Where were you when I got
mugged out in front of my store?

Where were you last week when I
got mugged outside of your store?

Hi, honey. I just wandered in.

- What's happening?
- Get in the car.

- But Al and them made me--
- Get in the car.

Hey, aren't you Jerry Springer,
the masculine feminist?

- Yes, I am.
- Tie him back up.

What the--?

I hate that guy.

This may be the end
of No Ma'am for now...

...but it's not the last
you'll here of it or me.

Peg, kids, come and get me. Please.

Who's that guy?

Oh, he's doing community service.

My eggs, my eggs

Above my legs