All language subtitles for The Simpsons s37e05 Bad Boys For Life.eng

[? theme song playing]

[? song ends]

[Jerry Seinfeld]
This is a 1908 first edition Model T,

with a 30-inch pneumatic clincher.

A top speed of 42 miles per hour,
and an outmoded nickel crank.

Speaking of outmoded cranks,
here's the owner, C. Montgomery Burns.

You'll have to pry this car
from my cold, dead hand.

Hmm. Well done.

[Jerry] All that for today's episode
of Comedians in Cars Kvetching.

With my guest Krusty the Clown.

Today's colleges are too PC.

Don't get me started on today's colleges.

Apparently, college kids don't dig
my Ho Chi Minnow character anymore.

What's not to like? It's a communist fish!

Oh, I wish I could do drivel
like you, Jerry.

Drivel. Funny word.
What's the plural? "Drivelous"?

That looks like
you'll be jaywalking home. [snickers]

Every time a rich comedian runs
out of ideas, he does a car show.

[? music playing in distance]

Oh, no. It's Carpool Karaoke.

[tires screech]

? Shoo-be-dee-bop-bop-bop ?

? Please call 911 ?

Yawn. Everything is so "drivelous".

Farmers.

Bazinga'd out.

Too much sleaze.

Too many fleas.

We never watch what I wanna watch.

Okay. What do you want to watch?

Oh. [chuckles]
I didn't think I'd get my way.

[tittering] So much pressure.

Okay. Scanning through 1000 channels and�

nothing good.

Mom, maybe you could tell a story about us
when we were younger.

Um, we've done that a few times.
Not sure what stories are left.

Maggie's first tooth, Grampa's last tooth,

the time Homer thought
he invented stuffed crust pizza.

I did invent it.

I'm the Thomas Edison
of stuffing things with cheese.

Including yourself.

[groans] Why you, little.

[grunts] Your primitive strangling
is no match for fireplace tongs.

[choking]

[laughing]

[exhales sharply]

We just made some memories, boy.

Well, at least
we used the fireplace for once.

And this does remind me of a story.

It's a story of a very sad time,

a time when we thought
Bart might be a truly bad boy.

It was four years ago.

Bart was six, and Homer was gently
reading little Lisa to sleep.

"The scared little bird walked up
to the steam shovel.

Are you my mother? Asked the bird.

The steam shovel said, snort!"

This story is terrifying.

Okay, fine. We'll read
a totally not scary book

about two lost children
about to be eaten by a witch.

[screams]

[breathing heavily]
Witches, steam shovels, empty pants.

One more thing and I'm gonna scream.

I caught a frog, I caught a frog.

Ooh. Where did he go?

[croaks]

[Marge] What's going on in there?

Boy, quit scaring your sister.

[shivers]

I still have nightmares about that frog.
Thanks a lot, Bart.

Hey, my life was great
before you came along.

-I didn't ask to be born.
-Yes, you did.

-No, I didn't.
-Did, did, did.

[chuckles] Kids, kids,
you're both unwanted.

Now, let's get back to the story.

[Marge] What creates a misbehaver?

In some cases, it could be a father
who is occasionally inconsiderate.

[burps]

[Grampa] Saying Homer
was occasionally inconsiderate

is like saying Shamu is sometimes a whale.

Did you know
there were nine different Shamus?

I'd rank 'em this way
six, five, two, three-

We're not ranking Shamus again.

I'll just conclude by saying,
a whale in captivity just lasts a week.

It's a good week.
Except for the last two hours.

As I was saying, sometimes your father
even forgot you were there.

Mmm. Carrot.

Homer, there's someone else here
who might have wanted that cookie.

Aw. Sorry, boy.

Ew. Carrot. [groans]

You know, the more
I think about it, Homie,

I think you may be a disconnected parent.

Me disconnected?

-[groans]
-[growls]

Listen, buster, if you don't bond
with him soon, we're gonna have problems.

Whenever you call me buster,
it means something is really bad.

That's right, mister.

Mister is worse than buster.

Since we're having trouble communicating,

we'll use this whiteboard
to tell each other how we feel.

[Marge] But even
when Homer tried to help, it didn't help.

Your turn, boy. Write how you feel.

-I-
-No, no, no, no.

You're not supposed to use
that hand. Try again, Son.

Still wrong.

Hey!

This is the hand I wanna use.

This is the hand the world wants you
to use. Listen to the world.

Never!

[groans] Repeat after me:
"Right is right."

Right is wrong!

[sighs] It's so hard being a good father.

How did people raise kids
before duct tape?

[Marge] It got to where
all Bart could think about

was how mad he was at Homer.

Great news! The doctor says
I'm not stupid like everyone thinks.

I just needed glasses.

[? dreamy music playing]

[? music stops]

Bet you didn't see that coming. Ha-ha!

Ha-ha? I've never said that before.
It's beautiful.

Ha-ha!

Ha-ha!

Ha-ha!

Those "ha-ha"s, they speak to me.

I no longer want to be a doctor.
I want to be a bully. [grunts]

Bart, don't you wish someone
would stand up to bullies?

[Homer] Ha-ha! Hey, that feels great.

Whatcha plottin', boy? Revenge?

Some bullies have to be taught a lesson.

Oh, I understand.
Back in double-ya double-ya two-ble-ya,

I fought the biggest bullies in the world.

Got any grenades?

Nope. Used the last one yesterday
to warm my soup.

Oh, the nonsense I spout.

[? "La Gazza Iadra: Overture" playing]

-Ay, caramba!
-Why, why, why? D'oh!

My first prank.

Bart hurt Dad!

My first tattle. When I first knew
my two shoes were goody.

Lisa sucks!

One of many Lisa suckses.

Bart, be nice.

Heavenly Father, Lisa sucks.
Lisa sucks. Amen.

Meanwhile, back in the past,
Bart was acting as bad as he does today.

But back then we didn't know why.

Homer, I'm afraid Bart
may be a� [whispers] �bad seed.

Bad seed? What does that mean?

-He's a ne'er-do-well.
-A ne'er-do-what?

He's no darn good!

[cries]

[Marge] We tried everything the Reverend
recommended to fix Bart's bad behavior.

Prayer, ignoring it, donating $20.
Nothing worked.

My recommendation is a larger donation.

Thanks for nothing.

[? "A Quick One, While He's Away" playing]

[grunts]

I need backup. Get me back up. Literally.

[giggles]

Oh, you think that's funny, huh?

A fat man running in and slipping
on a toy. [stutters] That's hilarious.

Yeah, well, I sort of get it.

[Marge] We decided
you needed professional help.

I'll do everything I can.

Doctor?

Oh, I see. I'm afraid
Bart will have to see a specialist.

I have more pressing duties.

-Pfizer visor?
-Don't mind if I do.

It's normal for boys Bart's age
to test the limits with their fathers.

Let's take a look at Bart's file.
Let's see.

Loading, loading.

Loading.

Oh, my God.
He's attacking his grandfather.

That's his father.

He's aged that poor man that much?

What the?

Homer is 38.

Dear God.

Bart, you're a very special boy.

And sometimes special boys
need to go to special places.

[screaming in distance]

[giggles] Don't worry,
that's not one of our kids.

It's one of the scary movies
we let them watch.

This is not where my son belongs.

Sorry, not up to you.

It's up to the ultimate authority
in compassionate parenting: state law.

The law? He's just a boy.

To be incarcerated,

the child has to know the difference
between right and wrong.

Oh, I know.
Right is wrong. Right is wrong.

Okay. I'm just going to say it.
The boy is a P-S-Y-C-H-O.

Psycho!

And there's your second opinion.

With an emergency court order, we can
get him immediately into this facility.

The social workers will come Monday

in a windowless van disguised
as a colorful ice-cream truck.

No!

It's for Bart's own good.

We have to get him
out of this horrible situation he's in.

You mean our home?

Not your home. The terrible people in it.
The house looks absolutely lovely.

Thank you. I try.

But before you leave this office,
Bart, you get a treat.

Ooh, candy. Mmm.

Those aren't candies, those are meds,
and you just took a year's worth.

Okay, okay. When they show up,

we just have to convince them
we're nice and normal.

Nice and normal.

Oh, we're doomed.

[mumbles] Oh, no.

[cries] Oh�

[snores]

Welcome to Baby Juvie, kid.

This is so unfair. He's just a boy.

There's no minimum age
for detention in America.

In Florida, for example,
it's as young as seven.

How do I know all this in my dream?

Oh, you're "sloogling".
Sleeping while googling.

Take him away, toys.

We really miss you, boy.

[game beeping, chiming]

[recorder] The cow says�
[imitating cow] �Moo!

That's a phone call
you never wanna get. [cries]

You know what these signify?
That's right. It's all the times I cried.

Told you not to read Charlotte's Web.

How should I know spiders
have such a short lifespan?

I'll shorten your lifespan.

[both grunting]

You keep Charlotte's name
out of your mouth.

Throw 'em in the pit.

[cries]

[electricity crackles]

Son, I'm breaking you out of here.

[screaming]

Thank God this is just a dream.

[screaming] I� should� have�
checked� consumer reports!

[? "Trois Gymnop�dies:
Premi�re Gymnop�die" playing]

[Bart laughs]

[groans]

[cries] I gotta save him.

Boy, I won't let them condemn you
to a life of mental health.

[groans]

I don't know
whether you're a bad kid or not,

but we're gonna drive until we figure out
what's wrong with you.

-Well, if you want to know-
-We can talk in the car.

Also, no talking in the car.
I'll be playing sports talk radio.

[sports announcer on radio]
Come on, Steve, if major league players

just knew how to bunt with a man on third,

we wouldn't even
be having this conversation.

We'd be eating a hot dog with your sister.

[groans]

I was taking a journey to save my son,
but do you know who I was actually saving?

-Yourself.
-Would you like to tell the story, Lisa?

-Not really.
-I wish you would.

You're much better than me.

Thank you. [chuckles] I will.
If you don't mind, I'll podcast it too.

This is Lisa Simpson
with Small Town Dorks.

Father and son needed to flee,
but first they needed essential supplies.

[tires screech]

Oh, my God. They found us.

Relax, pally. They're here
for the donuts, not for you.

Word on the street is it's free donut day.

I'm afraid you've been misinformed.

-Well, is it free coffee with purchase-
-I'm afraid not.

Well, you're coming downtown
to where I live,

to teach my wife
how to make donuts. Let's go.

[Homer] Look at him.
After causing all this trouble.

He's a pain in the neck.
He's uncontrollable. He's�

[gurgles]

[gasps] He's me.

Son, for you, the last donut. Bup.

Thanks, man.

Aw. Being a father is finally worth it.

How did I do this? Lou, I'm scared.

-We better amscray.
-Amscray? What's that mean?

I don't know, and I probably never will.
Now we gotta scram.

[owls hooting]

What's this dump?

Oh, I'd come here
when things got hairy with my father.

[? "Who Can I Turn to" playing]

? With you I could learn to ?

? With you� ?

[? song stops]

Myrna, Myrna, why did you leave me?

Dad, It's been ten years,
and her name is Mona.

Don't you tell me how to grieve.

[groans]

Who do you think you're comforting?
Skedaddle!

[sobs] Nobody loves me.

[sighs]

You know, maybe my father's insensitivity
to me led to my insensitivity to you.

-Dad?
-There's a pattern here.

Dad!

Maybe, just maybe,
if I could break the cycle-

Dad, look. A full can of beer.

Whoo!

What was I saying?
Uh, it must not have been important.

Tonight we sleep here. Tomorrow,
we make for Canada, the Mexico of Alaska.

I'm gonna say the rudest thing
a Canadian has ever said.

Sorry, but no.

Here's some maple syrup
for your trip back, eh?

[groans] Thanks for nothing.

Fine, we'll hide here. It'll be magic.
Pick a poop window.

You and me against the world, Son.

Now, let's get some sleep.

I love you, Dad.

I love you too.

[? ice cream truck music plays]

This childhood is over.

And in case we have to deal with that
quote unquote "father", I brought this.

Boy, they're coming for you.

We have the tree surrounded.

Just toss your boy
out of the window, headfirst,

-and no one gets hurt.
-Never!

We've got the one thing
no kid can resist. Glow sticks.

Gimme, gimme, gimme.

Come on, boy. Gotta be strong.

-Do as I say.
-Colors, colors, colors,

-colors, colors, colors.
-Neon pink. No, it's a trap.

Listen to me, Son.
The glow sticks are beautiful now,

but you'll feel cheap
when you see them in the morning.

Also, the insides taste like crap.

No!

[screams]

Just take a bite of this ice cream,
young man. And we can be on our way.

No, it's drugged!

My thoughts, they're getting organized.

I'm remembering my PIN codes
and my passwords,

where I parked at Itchy & Scratchy Land.

Oh, my God. I remember Marge's birthday.

-Oh, yeah, that's pretty neat.
-Not bad. That's pretty cool.

But the biggest thing I remember is,
my son is not a bad boy.

You've mistaken my indifference,

my ham-handed attempts
to help him grow up,

and my borderline alcoholism
for me not giving a damn.

Let them go!

Sorry, Marge, I have a court order
that says otherwise.

Doctor, I've never thought
more clearly in my life.

This is my son, and I love him.

Losing him would be like losing my arm,

the important one,
the one I bowl with. Please.

They teach us at Johns Hopkins
not to have feelings.

But damn it,
this is getting to me. [sniffles]

Why?

Son, what do you want?

Use this whiteboard.

D'oh! Whoo-hoo!

We're done here.

Thank God.

Give your dad a kiss, Son.

Ow! It's like sandpaper.

Come on, dig in there good.

Mwah!

And that was the first of many times
we fended off family services.

[knocks on door]

Not again.

You know what to do, people.

[bangs on door]

I just can't give away
these oatmeal cookies.

[Homer] Yoink!

Just take the ding dang plate!

Shh!

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