All language subtitles for The.Simpsons.S03E05.Homer.Defined.1080p.DSNP.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-MZABI_track3_[eng]

♪ The Simpsons ♪

D'

Aah!

Here's good news.

According to this
eye-catching article,

S.A.T. scores are declining
at a slower rate.

Dad, I think this paper
is a flimsy hodge-podge

of pie graphs, factoids
and Larry King.

Hey, this is the only paper
in America

that's not afraid
to tell the truth...

That everything is just fine.

"To me bestest bud Milhouse.

Happy birthday, Bart."

Bart, that's so sweet.

May I see the card?

"Hey there, 10 year-old, I couldn't
afford to get you a new drum..."

- Eww.
- Come on.

- Open it! Open it! Open it!
- Maybe a little later, Bart.

Aw, Milhouse, just 'cause
your mom didn't let you have a party

doesn't mean you
can't get a present.

We had a lovely time
on Saturday, Milhouse.

- I liked the balloons.
- I liked the party hats.

What are you girls
talking about?

Nothing.

Twins.
Open your present.

They're official
Krusty the Klown walkie-talkies!

I'll keep one and you keep one.

Now, whenever you want
to talk to me,

just call me on the phone

and tell me to turn on
my walkie-talkie.

Milhouse, I'd like to express
my appreciation for Saturday...

Jelly bean baskets,
personalized noisemakers...

But the little touches
are what made it enduring.

What's he talking about?

Hey, look at that dog.

Isn't that something?

Wow! Brown.

Whoa! Springfield Elementary, last stop.

And by the way,
I'd like to say thanks

and applause, applause
to birthday boy Milhouse

for his totally bitchin' party
on Saturday!

And Milhouse, I think
I left my pants on your roof.

You did have a party.

You didn't invite me.

I thought we were best friends.

Sorry, Bart.

Bye, little dudes.

Don't learn anything
I wouldn't learn.

Monday morning.

Time to pay for your two days
of debauchery,

you hung-over drones.

- T.G.I.M., sir.
- Yes.

So, what did you do
this weekend, Smithers?

Well, I caught up on my laundry,

wrote a letter to my mother.

Here's the kicker.

I took Hercules out
to be clipped.

Who the devil is Hercules?

He's my Yorkshire terrier, sir.

He's kind of tiny, so...

you know, it's a joke.

Here's a picture of Hurky.

Well, Smithers,

don't you know how
to paint the town red.

May I ask how you spent
your weekend?

A bit overly familiar,
but I'll allow it.

I took in a movie.

An appalling
little piece of filth.

Its "leading lady"
was a blonde harlot

who spent half the film
strolling around naked as a jaybird.

No, just give the great unwashed

a pair of oversized breasts
and a happy ending,

and they'll oink for more
every time.

What a movie!

And that blonde cutie...
Does she have assets!

Heh-heh-heh!

- Sounds like my kind of flick.
- And how!

Eww! Lemon.

Cherry.

Ooh, custard.

Purple!

♪♪

Otto, welcome.

Apu, hey.

Got a bad case
of the munchies, man.

- Time for a heat lamp dog.
- Otto.

Otto, did you know there's
a small child inside your bus?

Whoa, good thing you warned me.
I was on my way to Mexico.

Call me old-fashioned,
but movies were sexier

when the actors kept
their clothes on.

Vilma Banky could do more
for me with one raised eyebrow

than an entire...

Warning. Problem in Sector 7-G.

7-G? Good God!
Who's the safety inspector there?

- Homer Simpson, sir.
- Simpson?

Good man? Intelligent?

Actually, sir, he was hired
under "Project Bootstrap."

Thank you, President Ford.

Noise. Bad noise.

Five minutes
before critical mass.

Critical wha...
Okay, okay. Don't panic.

Whosever problem this is,
I'm sure they know how to handle it.

It's my problem! We're doomed!

Sector 7-G is now
being isolated.

My best friend shafted me.

I'll never get over this,
Otto-man.

Sure, you will.

Once, my old lady ran off
and married my brother.

Well, it hurt, but here it is a month
later, and I'm sleeping on their couch.

Marguerita, I want you.

Mr. Devereaux, I can't work
under these conditions.

Have it your way, baby.

You're fired.

- Avery.
- Call me Mr. Devereaux.

We interrupt Search for
the Sun for this special news bulletin.

Forget the hair.
Just give me the blush.

We're on.

This station has just learned

that a serious crisis
is in progress

at the Springfield
Nuclear Power Plant.

- My Lord!
- On the line with us now

is plant owner
C. Montgomery Burns.

- Mr. Burns?
- Hello, Kent.

Right now, skilled nuclear
energy technicians

are calmly correcting a minor,
piffling malfunction...

but I can assure you
and the public

that there's absolutely
no danger whatsoever.

Things couldn't be
more shipshape.

- Sir, where's my radiation suit?
- How the hell should I know?

Mr. Burns,
people are calling this a meltdown.

Meltdown.
That's one of those annoying buzz words.

We prefer to call it an
"unrequested fission surplus."

Homie, please, be all right.

Got to think!
Got to think!

Okay, somewhere there's a thingy

that tells you how to work
this stuff.

The, um, the, the manual!

The manual, right.

Aha!

It's as fat as a phone book!

"Congratulations
on your purchase

of a Fissionator
1952 slow fission reactor."

D'Get to the point, man.

Ooh, what's this?

D'Who'd have thought
a nuclear reactor

would be so complicated?

Ninety seconds to core meltdown.

Sir, there may never be

another time to say...
I love you, sir.

Hot dog.

Thank you for making my last
few moments on earth socially awkward.

Looks like this is the end.

That's all right.
I couldn't have led a richer life.

After the meltdown,
we can expect roving bands...

I don't like this program.

Change the channel.

Traffic for hours.

Wheel of Fortune!

I don't understand anything.

When they look up "stupid"
In a dictionary

there will be a picture of me.

Dear Lord,
if you spare this town

from becoming a smoking hole
in the ground,

I'll try to be
a better Christian.

I don't know what I can do.

Um... The next time
there's a canned food drive

I'll give the poor something
they'd actually like

instead of old lima beans
and pumpkin mix.

- One minute to core meltdown.
- Shut up!

Simpson, it's all up to you.

It's show time!

Okay, okay,
think back to your training.

Homer, this may very well save

your life one day...
This... Homer?

- Yeah?
- Please pay attention.

This button here controls
the emergency override circuit.

In the event of a meltdown,
push this button, and only this button.

Ooh, a side.

- Simpson!
- What?

You see which button
I'm pushing?

Yeah, push the button.
Got it.

This is all your fault!

Got to pick a button,
pick a button, pick a button.

One potato, two potato
three potato four... No, wait.

Bubble gum, bubble gum,
in a dish.

How many pieces do you wish?
No! No!

30 seconds to core meltdown.

Smithers, I guess there's
nothing left to do

but to kiss my sorry ass
good-bye.

May I, sir?

These unfortunate people here,
will be instantly killed.

This circle, which I am sad to say
we are in, will experience

a slower, considerably
more painful death.

Good Lord!

They called me old-fashioned
for teaching

the "duck and cover" method,

but who's laughing now?

Fifteen seconds
to core meltdown.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.

Catch a tiger by the toe.

If he hollers, let him go.

Eeny, meeny, miny...

moe.

All systems returning to normal.

Danger in 7-G neutralized.
Have a nice day.

- Will I ever see you again?
- Sure, baby.

Next meltdown. Heh.

I'd like to solve the puzzle.

"Three loins in the fountain."

Yes, we've isolated the problem.

Wouldn't you know... false alarm.

It seems a single wayward crow

- flew into our warning system.
- Very good.

Well sir, your point
about nuclear hysteria

is well-taken.

This reporter promises
to be more trusting,

and less vigilant in the future.

Excellent.

Well, ta.

Smithers, I can still
sell them snake oil.

Now, bring me a wine spritzer,

and don't be stingy
with the vino.

Yes, sir.

So, Smithers

it seems you've underestimated
one Homer Simpson,

our next employee of the month.

- Milhouse, a little salt?
- Sure.

Ha-ha-ha. Now we're
even for your party.

Come on, let's go play.

Bart, my mom won't let me
be your friend anymore.

That's why you
couldn't come to the party.

What's she got against me?

She says you're a bad influence.

Bad influence, my butt!

How many times have I told you?
Never listen to your mother.

But Bart, she threatened
to cut off my allowance.

Whatever she's paying you,
I'll double it.

I'm really sorry, Bart.

Sir, about employee of the month.
If you'll recall,

I'm the one who put
a five-percent ceiling

on the Keogh Plan,
which saved this company...

Smithers, you bean counter,
give it up.

Simpson's my man.

Hey, way to save our lives.

Yeah, we owe you one.

Well, you know, boys,

a nuclear reactor
is a lot like a woman...

You just have to read the manual
and press the right button.

Simpson? Monty Burns.
Come with me.

Homer! Homer! Homer!

Now, now, that will do.

Homer, for your bravery and skill

we award you

this ham, this plaque,

this discount coupon book,

and my own personal thumbs-up.

Hah!

And to ensure your immortality,

your heroic visage will be added

to our wall of fame.

And what's this?

A congratulatory phone call
from Earvin "Magic" Johnson?

Magic Johnson?

Yello.

Is this really Homer Simpson?

Yeah.

Wow. Homer, I just used
our last time out

to call and congratulate you

on averting that
nuclear holocaust.

Well, thank you.

Magic,
if you play on that ankle,

you'll be in incredible pain.

I don't care.

Magic, what if people think
a guy's a hero,

but he was really just lucky?

Don't worry.
Sooner or later,

people like that are exposed
as the frauds they are.

Thanks, Magic.

♪ Fight-fight-fight ♪

♪ The Itchy & Scratchy show ♪

Aah!

Hee-hee-hee-hee!

Bart, you're not laughing.

Too subtle?

No, I'm just depressed.

Milhouse's mom won't let me
play with him anymore.

Homer, did you go out
and buy a 20-pound ham?

- What's all this?
- D'

"For heroic competence.

"For narrowly averting
a meltdown

and proving without question

that nuclear power
is completely safe.

Employee of the month!"

Homer!

A role model
in my very own home,

how convenient.

Look, I get enough admiration
and respect at work.

I don't need it here at home.

How are you enjoying
your ham, Homie?

Tastes so bitter,
it's like ashes in my mouth.

It's actually more
of a honey glaze.

Maybe you ate a clove.

What's your problem, boy?

I had a fight with Milhouse.

That four-eyes
with the big nose?

You don't need friends
like that.

How Zen.

What?

What is it?

What are you doing?

Looking at you with quiet awe.

Well, as long as it's quiet.

Milhouse to Bart.
Milhouse to Bart.

Please don't hate me.

Please?

Ooh, right next to the boss.

Aw, he'll never know who did it.

Simpson, there's someone

I want you to meet...
Aristotle Ametdopolous,

owner of the Shelbyville
Nuclear Power Facility.

What?

It seems Ari's been having terrible
worker problems at Shelbyville.

They've lost their zest
for work.

You must help them find their
eanae-eharatou-nah-duleve.

- Their eanae haratou doolawhat?
- Yes.

We want you to give them
a pep talk that turns them from

a bunch of
donut-eating goof-offs

into a pack of Homer Simpsons.

I really can't
tell them anything.

Cut the false modesty!
It's getting tiresome.

Besides, it's your duty. Employee of
the month isn't all ham and plaques.

Well, Smithers.

How kind of you
to pay us a visit.

Couldn't help it, sir.
The parking here is terrible.

This man has no love

for his power plant.

Be gone from my sight.

That one's
always been a problem.

One, two, three.
Community chest.

Nah.

Nah.

I've won second prize
in a beauty contest.

Collect ten bucks.

Ha, ha! You're losing.

Bart, don't feed
your sister hotels.

Don't worry, Mom.
There's tons of these things.

I think that game
is too old for her.

Why don't you go
play with Milhouse?

I don't want to
play with Milhouse.

You mean you still haven't
made up with him?

It's his mom. She says
I'm a bad influence.

C'mon Maggie, let's go throw rocks
at that hornets' nest.

Mrs. Van Houten,
I'm Bart's mother.

We met in the emergency room
when the boys drank paint.

I remember.
Please come in.

Marge, I'm sorry

but I think it would be better

if Milhouse didn't see your son.

Look, I know Bart
can be a handful,

but I also know
what he's like inside.

He's got a spark.

It's not a bad thing.

Of course,
it makes him do bad things.

Well, Marge, the other day

Milhouse told me
my meat loaf sucks.

He must have gotten that
from your little boy,

because they certainly
don't say that word on TV.

Well, I can't defend
everything he does,

but let's face it.

All Bart and Milhouse have
is each other.

They're too young for girls,

and they're a popular target
for bullies,

and in the Christmas pageant,
they're always sheep.

Please, please,
let them be friends.

I'll think about it, Marge.

So the next time
somebody tells you

carny folk are good,
honest people,

you can spit
in their faces for me.

I will, Mr. Gumble.
But if you'll excuse me,

I'm profiling my dad
for the school paper.

I thought it'd be neat
to follow him around for a day

- to see what makes him tick.
- Aw, that's sweet.

I used to follow my dad to
a lot of bars too.

Here you go.
One beer, one chocolate milk.

Excuse me,
I have the chocolate milk.

What's the matter, Homer?

The depressing effects
of alcohol

usually don't kick in
till closing time.

He's just a little nervous.

He has to give a speech tomorrow

on how to keep cool in a crisis.

What am I gonna do?
What am I gonna do?

Hey, I had to
give a speech once.

I was pretty nervous,
so I used a little trick.

I pictured everyone
in their underwear...

The judge, the jury, my lawyer...
Everybody.

- Did it work?
- I'm a free man, ain't I?

Milhouse to Bart.
Do you want to come over and play?

Really?
We can be friends again?

Did your mom die?

I don't think so.

Well, who cares?

Milhouse, I'll be right there.

Sorry, Maggie.
Game's over.

Hey, Mom! I'm friends
with Milhouse again.

Well I knew his mother
would come to her senses.

Thanks for sticking up for me.

What makes you think I did it?

Who else would?

Aw...

You be good.

I will.

As I look out into this sea
of smiling faces,

I am filled with a sense
of loathing and revulsion.

You are not workers.

You are a pack of mangy,
cud-chewing, ugly goats.

Well, you're in for a treat.

We have with us today
a real man.

Behold the glory
that is Homer Simpson.

"Ladies and...

gentlemen."

Just picture them
in their underwear...

"Grace under pressure is no..."

Three minutes to meltdown.

Saved by the bell.

Fifteen seconds
to core meltdown.

Just do what you did before.

All right.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,

catch a tiger by the toe,

if he hollers let him go,

eeny, meeny, miny moe.

Crisis has been averted.

Everything is super.

Thank you, Homer,
for saving my plant

with that idiotic rhyming!

Do you even know
what button you pushed?

Sure... Moe.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.

Is Homer a hero?

The answer is no.

I'm Kent Brockman
and that was "My Two Cents."

Now, back to Scott Christian
with "Laugh and a Half."

Thanks, Kent.

There was more dumb luck
in the news today

when our own police chief
Wiggum foiled a bank holdup

without even trying.

It seems the chief
had gone to the bank

to cash in his penny jar.

48, 49, 50.

- What the...
- Ooh!

Good work, Chief.

Just doing my job.

Yes, it seems the chief pulled
a Homer Simpson of his own.

Whoa!

A pretzel?

Wow! Looks like
I pulled a Homer.

The Lakers have the ball.

Magic Johnson coming down
the floor on a fast break.

Magic stops. His feet
slip out from under him!

The ball flies out of his hands,
hits the referee in the head

goes in the basket!

It's a three-point play!
The Lakers win!

Looks like I pulled a Homer.

Our dad!
Now he belongs to the ages.

♪♪

Shh!

CAPTIONS ENHANCED BY
ROUNDABOUT ENTERTAINMENT INC.