Original subtitles

♪ The Simpsons ♪

Okay, ladies. Let's all take out this month's book.

Then open it, close it,

and break out the wine!

You're supposed to say "Whoo."

Luann, we're not feeling very "Whoo." What we're feeling is "woo-oried."

This is an intervention.

I don't have a problem with drinking.

It's not the wine.

Luann, you have an addiction to wine merch.

And we say this out of love.

It's super annoying.

But it's such a fun way of telling the world, "I like wine."

"Mom Fuel."

"Corks are for quitters."

"Wine is the answer." "What was the question?"

The questions is: Do you want to live your life like this?

Oh, and I suppose all your throw pillows just say nothing?

Anyway, it's not like it's hurting anyone.

Isn't it?

I'm the closing manager at Mom Goods.

I was injured

when you got into a fight with another customer over an apron

that says "This is my wine bib."

Luann, we're here for you.

But being a funny wine mom is my thing.

I have absolutely nothing else in my life.

You like coffee, right?

What if your new personality was coffee?

Coffee merch doesn't get me there!

- Chocolate? - "It's chocolate o'clock somewhere"?

That makes no sense, Bernice.

How about "proud slut"?

I love it.

And here is your very first merch.

Yay!

Good bye, Malibu Stacy!

- Good luck, Malibu Stacy! - Miss you already!

Good bye, all you think-piece-inspiring Malibu Stacys!

I'm going to the real world to find the little girl who loves me the most.

I knew this day would co...

And you're not here for me.

Hi, Shauna!

Um. Who are you, freak? Besides a freaky freak, you freak.

I'm Malibu Stacy. You're Malibu Stacy.

I came here from Malibu Stacy Land,

because a real girl who plays with me needs my help.

And that's you, Shauna.

You still play with dolls?

No.

It's okay to be complicated.

As women, we can encompass multitudes.

Encompass my fist.

Yeah! Get her!

Get outta here and leave me alone, loser.

I'm so sorry. Meet me at home after school.

We'll have a tea party. I love you so much.

You're not fighting me. You're fighting your fears of growing up.

Ah. Good night, Nelly.

Mama, could you tell me a story?

How about one from the Kingdom of the Classy Ladies?

Another one?

Aw, please! I never get tired of their adventures.

Well, once upon a time,

there was a beautiful princess named Muntzeena.

Oh, and she loved to dance with all of her friends atop the glittery stage of...

Lord Tracksuit's Manor!

One fine eve, a party of Knights

of the Order of the Bachelor from the Valley of Silicon were there,

tossing much gold.

Did they bring a wizard with them who could control the weather?

Oh, they sure did.

And boy, oh boy, did he make it rain.

But treachery was in the air,

as the evil princess, Rylee, with two E's, stepped onto the stage

bidding the troubadour play Poureth Some Sugar Unto Me.

But that's Princess Muntzeena's frolicking ditty. Rylee stole it!

Indeed.

And, filled with righteous fury,

Muntzeena removed her magical lucite heel and chucked it at Rylee's stupid face.

Ooh. Princess Muntzeena didn't get docked two weeks' pay again, did she?

No. Because the Keeper of the Door, Sir Gordo of the Latin Kings,

is fair, and wise and kinda into older broads.

So he banished Princess Rylee to the Shift of the Morn',

when all the princes are sleeping off last night's potions.

Then King Nelson came in, stole all the ducats,

and treated Muntzeena to lunch at Krustyburger.

Oh, my hero.

No, Mom. You're mine.

Ah, shut up.

Fun fact about Jennifer Garner, Marge.

She'll take a night at home with the kids

over a Hollywood premiere any day of the week.

I told you that.

Oh, I forgot the tampons. Can you go grab a box?

Shh! The checkout stranger can hear.

They don't care what you buy. Just get the tampons. We're in a hurry.

That's a "Happy Graduation" card.

Oh! It's not... [whispers] ...those things?

I guess I'm bad at shopping, so you'll have to go get...

- ...those things. - Ugh. Fine.

Stop right there, Marge.

Don't play dumb, Homer.

Do you even realize all the embarrassing stuff your wife buys for you?

♪ Incompetent husband, You weak little punk ♪

♪ Your selfless wife buys creams To soothe the rash on your junk ♪

♪ Incompetent husband, Just be a grown man ♪

♪ She didn't flinch When she bought you an XL bed pan ♪

♪ You weren't even injured ♪

♪ You weren't even sick ♪

♪ Just too drunk To make it to the can ♪

♪ To the can, to the can To the can, can, can ♪

♪ Stop shaming me In front of Hans Moleman ♪

Oh, we're just getting started.

♪ Your fungus has infections Your infections have the runs ♪

♪ Gassy nipples, crotch foot Massive hemorrhoids on your buns ♪

♪ You said they don't remember Or care what we buy ♪

♪ It's a little disconcerting But I'm glad they're on my side ♪

♪ She gets you meds for blood pressure Cholesterol and gout ♪

♪ I wanna get the tampons But I can't figure it out ♪

♪ Yes, you can, yes, you can Yes, you can, can, can ♪

♪ She texted you a photo of the brand ♪

♪ Incompetent husband, we're so onto you ♪

♪ You're only bad at doing things You don't want to do ♪

♪ You can't be this stupid It's all just a ruse ♪

Okay, okay. I'll do it. I'll buy my wife tampons.

Just tell me where they are.

♪ Incompetent husband, aisle two ♪

Breaking news. Smoke 'em if you got 'em.

A ship carrying America's entire supply of cigarettes

has become lodged in the Panama Canal.

R. D. R. D. R. D.

Do you think the honking is helping? 'Cause I don't.

Experts say the cigarette shortage could mean months

before shelves are restocked and lungs re-blackened.

I hope we have enough smokes to last until this is over.

I'm sure we'll be okay if we just pool all our cigarettes.

You know, share.

Yeah. Share. Share the cigarettes.

Thing is, I don't have any.

Yeah, me neither.

Liar.

Busted.

Addict.

"J'accuse."

"J'accuse" you.

- Aha! - Aha!

Ooh. Hey there, handsome. What's your name?

Dr. Julius Hibbert.

No, it's not.

Remember? Tonight we're role-playing as strangers

meeting for a tawdry one-night stand

that my therapist says will reinvigorate our marriage.

I'm a man of science, not improv.

Okay, okay. I'll give it a try.

Hello, stranger.

Got any sexually transmitted diseases I should know about?

My name is Lavern McCray.

I'm a lingerie model.

Well, we have that in common.

You're a lingerie model?

No. Uh, my name is also Lavern McCray.

I mean, Mavern "McDoLittle"?

Uh, I'm a doc...

...documentarian of motorcycles which I race for, uh, pleasure.

Oh, Mavern, you're just full of surprises.

Help! This man is choking!

Is anyone here a doctor?

Me. I'm a...

I'ma hoping you find a doctor before it's too late.

You want me to let a man die to give our marriage a boost?

It would be a start.

Oh, my God. He's turning blue.

I can help. I'm a French neurosurgeon.

No, he's not. We're just role-playing.

You said if I stayed in character, we could have sex.

I took an oath, woman.

I deserve passion!

A sad scene.

Remember, if you're going to role-play, play it safe.

This has been a message from the President's Council on Marital Role-Play,

which does not exist because I'm only pretending to be a spokesperson

to turn on the men in this bar.

Role-play, baby. I dig it.

Fireman Stu is hot for you.

I caught one.

We caught you, Luigi.

You've been smuggling diamonds inside your four-cheese gnocchi.

Being caught with loaded gnocchi is no "gn-jokey."

I want-a my mama.

What you should want is a lawyer.

How's about both?

♪ She was making antipasto With a chop-chop-chop-a ♪

♪ When her baby boy was taken By the cop-cop-cop-a ♪

♪ With-a-out her son She knew her heart would-a stop-a ♪

♪ Life had given her a sock in the jaw ♪

♪ So she headed up to Harvard Where they have a law school-a ♪

♪ Her homespun wisdom Made the stuffed shirts drool-a ♪

♪ She no speak-a so good But she's nobody's fool-a ♪

♪ That's how she became "Mamma-at-Law" ♪

It's-a not looking good, Mamma. They gonna send me away forever.

Counselor Mamma, your closing argument.

Don't you dare take-a my sweet, sweet, sweet baby boy to jail.

You want to kill an old woman?

- Uh, no. - Oh, thank you.

You're too skinny. Have some ziti.

We find the defendant not guilty.

Next week on the Mamma-at-Law.

Civil forfeitures laws unfairly discriminate

against low-income communities.

You're too skinny.

♪ Mamma-at-Law ♪

I believe every great dish is born of dreams.

I'll often awaken with a new creation fully formed in my head.

Every morning, I go to the farmer's market to get inspired.

Each ingredient becomes a character in the story of lunch.

Today's story is, I have 14 bucks and 500 kids to feed.

Salt. Fat. Acid. Heat. No, thanks.

I've eaten in restaurants all over the world,

and Lunchlady Dora is doing things I never thought were possible.

Or legal.

Someone needs to stop her.

Maybe the government?

When I present my food,

I want it to evoke an emotion.

Panic.

If I wasn't a cook, I'd probably be a painter

or a novelist.

Some other job where I could drink vodka from a mug and knock off by two.

Narnia.

All hail! Our queen has returned.

Woodland friends, it is good to see you.

How has the kingdom fared in my absence?

The realm is troubled, milady. And your wisdom is much required.

By royal decree,

we command that the roads of our kingdom be improved,

so that all may benefit.

Whoa! Who's gonna pay for that?

Oh. Hmm. [gasps] Ooh. What about this?

For every spell cast, we impose a tariff of one gold piece.

You're aware that that unfairly targets witches, right?

This is why so many of us are moving to other kingdoms.

Well, you want better roads, right?

And affordable housing so you can live closer to work?

Yes. Give it to us now.

So the money for all that has to come from somewhere.

That's the kingdom's job.

What about a property tax on moats?

Oh, yeah. Soak the rich.

That's your answer to everything.

Calm down, my good people.

You hear that? She called us "people."

That's racist!

Death to the tyrant!

Sorry, people! I mean, subjects.

I mean, citizens?

Ugh! I can't even have fun in my dreams anymore.

So, hi.

This is my first time on one of these sites.

I'm not really sure how this works, but it's time to admit that I'm lonely.

Janice passed away six months ago,

and I'm finally ready to open my heart to a new enemy.

We were at war for 50 years.

Oh, God. What a nemesis she was.

The most loathsome, sorry excuse for a human being you ever met.

May she burn in hell.

I know you're not supposed to talk about your ex,

but that relationship is a part of me.

Anyway. Ever since I spit on her ugly grave,

I've been alone.

I'm looking for someone in my rage bracket.

I'm not young.

I don't have time to waste exchanging passive-aggressive emails

or shooting hostile stares across the supermarket.

I'm looking for a real commitment.

If you think that could be you, reach out.

I just wanna make someone miserable for the rest of their worthless life.

♪ Jesus hates your Prius ♪

♪ The Lord loves his V-8 Ford ♪

We interrupt this program for an emergency broadcast.

A massive tsunami is headed for Springfield.

You have ten minutes left to live.

So if there's anything you still need to do on this Earth, now is the time.

Howdy, Helen.

Thought you didn't see--

Oh, hey there, Mrs. Lovej--

Helen, are you okay?

Did I do something--

I can die now.

We have a clarification to our previous warning.

A tsunami of savings is approaching Springfield

at Costington's Red Tag Clearance.

All is well and on sale.

It's a great hobby.

Very, uh, manly. Uh, I don't know.

Thanks. Yeah. I enjoy it.

Oh, Milhouse fell down.

I think he's okay, but it looks like the poor guy is about to--

Yes. Sweet music to my wallet.

Oh, I was so sure it was gonna be Janey.

She's coming off a two-sleepover weekend.

Doesn't betting on bad things happening to children feel just a bit wrong?

I feel nothing and I'm fine with that.

Someone just fell off the monkey bars.

Willie, we need an ID on the faller.

It's Sherri.

Oh, yes! Yes!

Correction. The faller is Terri.

Repeat. Terri.

Come to Papa.

I... I can't be a part of this.

Oi! Shut up, ya debt-ridden chalk-sniffers!

We have a middle finger on the playground.

Who flipped the bird?

Come on, weird foreign exchange student.

I cannot believe I'm seeing this.

The bird-flipper is Lisa Simpson.

Impossible. What were the odds?

500 to one.

I'm so disappointed in you guys.

Or should I say, for you guys.

Yoink.

Nice work.

Pleasure doing business with you.

Every story needs a hero, every hero has a beginning.

Witness the rise of a legend.

You know that Jake from State Farm kinda does it for me?

You wanna go upstairs?

Yeah. All right.

Shh!