All language subtitles for My Favorite Martian s01e04 Russians R in Season

Did you say something?

No.

You did.

No, I distinctly heard you go, hmm?

Oh, yeah. Well, that was after you went,
hmm.

Oh, did I?

Uh -huh.

Hmm.

Well, there you did it again.

Tim, did you see this article?

Your government is spending $2 billion
on a space program that cannot possibly

be successful.

Uncle Martin, I have in front of me,
right here, My friendly bank statement.

And over here, I have my enemy
checkbook.

Now, somewhere between the two, a penny
is lost.

And the bank wants me to find it.

Yes.

Abraham Lincoln, lost in a miasma of
devious mathematics.

And you talk to me about two billion
dollars?

Please, Uncle Martin.

Can we keep it quiet?

And no more.

Hmm.

Hmm.

Two billion dollars!

X, Y minus Z over phi R, 19 squared.

Uncle Martin! Uncle Martin!

X, Y minus 2 over phi R.

What? What does it mean?

Uncle Martin, please wake up. Abraham
Lincoln.

I knew him well.

He was never devious.

My asthma of mathematics?

Uncle Martin!

Uncle Martin!

Uncle Martin. Uncle Martin, now look.
What does that mean? X, Y, minus two?

Uncle Martin.

Two billion dollars.

Now, if you know something that the
government doesn't... Is that what you

me up for?

Uncle Martin!

Uncle Martin, please, there must be a
way!

There is.

Pay the two billion dollars.

Narrow -fiddled, he snores.

That's true.

And so, Mr. O 'Hara and readers of the
sun, while I am merely a lay observer

breathlessly watching our race in space,
it does occur to me that perhaps in our

anxieties we are overlooking X, Y minus
2 over pi R

-19 squared.

To not turn over every rock is to negate
the noble achievements of our

magnificent astronauts.

We might as well regress to sending
monkeys into orbit.

A concerned reader.

Dear Mr. O 'Hara, it seems to me that
two billion dollars... Mr. Burns!

Mr. Burns!

Monkey's in orbit.

Monkey's in orbit.

Two billion dollars is a vast sum when
viewed in its everyday common man

taxpayer perspective.

Tim, have you gone out of your mind?

Well, I think it's rather well written.
One of my better articles.

Do not overlook X, Y minus 2 over pi R.

You are out of your mind.

Well, Mr. Burns compared me to
Steinbeck.

Steinbeck?

Sam Steinbeck. He was a hot reporter Mr.
Burns knew in the old days.

Why did Mr. Burns let you lie about
receiving this anonymous letter?

Well, no, it was not a lie. It happened
to be in the incoming mailbox. And I

took the letter out and I opened it and
I read it. You wrote a phony letter.

Then you scuffed it with your shoe to
make it look male.

Then you wrote this big story using the
letters XY minus 2 over it. How'd you

know about the shoe?

I'm the Martian.

I read the minds.

I do not do what you do, which is
pussyfooting around while innocent

sleep, kidnapping their mumblings.

Now, wait a sec. I can't just stand
around and watch the government blow $2

billion.

Tim, I told you to let them pay the $2
billion.

Oh, that doesn't make sense.

Tim, the great technological transitions
which your country has achieved have

come through honest effort and brave
industry and not the naive intrusions of

semi -informed newspaper reporters.

Well, all right, maybe I'm semi
-informed, but a little bit of help.

individual must find his way.

The same holds true for a nation.

When Ben Franklin was playing around
with electricity, would you have wanted

to help him?

And why didn't I help Alex Hamilton? He
was working on it before Benny.

And Isaac Newton under the tree. Would
you have wanted me to yell, watch out?

Wasn't it better to let the apple hit
him on the head and let him figure out

whole thing for himself?

They're coming.

Who's coming?

Five.

Uncle Martin, who's coming?

Answer the door before they shoot off
the lock.

But Uncle Martin, what did I write?

I mean, what is xy minus 2 over pi r?

Nothing. It's gibberish.

A half -truth. Instant math.

I was reconciling your checkbook in my
sleep.

You'll find the missing penny on the
fourth line in the third column of your

statement.

Answer the door.

You're making it worse.

Just one second.

Uncle Martin. Uncle Martin, what do they
want?

You.

Who? Why?

Russians are in season.

Mr. O 'Hara?

Mr. Tim O 'Hara?

Oh, yeah.

May we come in?

Thank, uh, uh... I was, um, I was
sleeping. You, uh,

you woke me up when you knocked on the
door.

Do you, uh, usually sleep in your
trowel?

Oh, oh.

You realize you made an error here?

You made the mistake of a penny.

Fourth column, third line.

No, no, just one second. Just one
second. Both of you guys.

I want to see your badges.

Who said we were cops?

Mr. O 'Hara, we know you're eccentric,
writing letters to yourself, creating

false hysteria.

Letters?

Yes, yes. This letter was written on
your desk stationery. It has only your

fingerprint on it.

It was written on your typewriter.

And the smudge on the envelope?

was made on the sole of this shoe.

Shall we?

We're sorry we had to disturb you, Mr. O
'Hara, but your article disturbed us.

It's just an article.

There is no such thing as just an
article.

In the space age, every bit counts, one
way or another.

Well, all I meant to do was create some
doubt.

Well, citizen of what country?

Oh, come on.

Oh, you've got to be kidding. You must
have checked me out. We have checked you

out thoroughly.

Oh.

Well, then, you know... That you have
been at the local airbase files many

times. That you have a Washington
teleticker in your newspaper office.

That you have access to confidential
materials.

That you have written an anonymous
letter triggering an hysterical article

questioning our current project in
space.

Well, I'm a newspaper man.

I was trying to help.

With what qualifications? Why didn't you
let us just stumble around in our own

way? Two billion dollars is a lot of
money.

Especially to someone who can't account
for a penny in his checkbook.

All right. It was a mistake.

I mean, the article.

I shouldn't have said that we received
an anonymous letter.

It was a lie.

XY minus 2 over pi R19 squared.

Oh, well, that was gibberish.

It happened to fit.

It couldn't.

I mean, it shouldn't. I mean...

I think he's a Russian.

Oh, you couldn't.

I mean, you shouldn't.

I mean, you wouldn't.

I mean, you could, but you shouldn't.

Oh, well, the whole thing didn't fit,
Mr. O 'Hara. The pi r 19 squared was

nothing but the x y minus 2.

Let us say that could be the start of
something big.

What's that?

A friend of ours.

That's a lie detector.

You don't have to do it. But we do want
to send you home tonight.

You... You really think I'm a spy?

Honestly, no.

We have checked on you as much as we
could in the brief time available to us.

However, some questions were not
immediately answerable.

Now, with the help of this machine, we
hope to expedite your case, and with any

luck at all, close it in a very short
time.

Now, you understand this is voluntary on
your part, and you're within your

rights to refuse.

Oh, no. No, I volunteer. I'm not a spy.
I have nothing to hide.

Good.

Now, as I told you, we checked into your
background briefly, and we have the

basic essentials.

Now, let's start, for instance, with
your name.

Timothy O 'Hara.

Your address?

1436 Green Hill Road.

Now, tell us about this man who lives
with you, Mr. Martin.

Oh, come now, Mr. O 'Hara. Let's not
have the pen jump around now. Just take

slow and easy.

Tell us about Uncle Martin.

Yes.

mother's sister.

Speak up. My mother's sister was... I
was

born to have an uncle.

Well... The records were lost in the
great fire.

Uncle Martin, I just didn't know what to
say.

You should have told them the truth.

Who could believe that family tree you
concocted? The truth.

I've told you to always tell the truth.

It's the world's best lie. Uncle Martin,
how can I just tell them that you're a

Martian? Well, don't you see? They
wouldn't have believed you.

But that machine... Would have recorded
that you were telling the truth.

You would have confused them completely.

What have they got in there?

What did they use on you?

A lie detector.

I know that.

Did it have a moving pen?

Yes. Or a keg?

Uncle Martin, are you going to tell the
truth? Certainly not.

It's one thing for you to tell the
truth, another for me.

I have no social security, no school
records, no traceable birth.

But, don't worry, they don't stand a
chance.

I'd like to ask that question again.

Sir, I was born in South Bend, Indiana.

Tim's mother was married to my family on
my half -brother time.

Let's talk about your occupations. You
must have worked.

A shoe salesman, a short order cook, a
garage mechanic, a beachcomber. Then I

decided to become a novelist. So I took
a banana boat to the South Sea Islands.

Would you mind waiting outside for just
a minute? We'll call you.

Well, what happened?

One down. What's next?

I don't know.

Oh, no.

Not that.

What? What are they going to do?

Hypnotism.

I taught it to Cooey.

And I was with Count Mesmer when he
invented it.

You understand this is purely voluntary.

You may call your lawyer if you wish. I
have nothing to hide.

You are in a rowboat.

Rowboat. It is a lazy summer day.

You're drifting.

Drifting in the cool breeze.

Drifting.

Drifting.

Relax.

Look deep into my eyes.

Relax and look deep into my eyes.

Four score.

Seven years ago.

A new nation.

Conceived in liberty.

And dedicated to the proposition.

That all men.

Are now engaged in a great civil war.

Testing that nation.

Or any nation.

Two down.

Can we go now?

Brainwashing. What?

Brainwashing. That's next. Can you beat
it? If it wasn't in poor taste, I could

phone it in.

You understand this is completely
voluntary. I was born in Keokuk, Iowa.

Actually, we moved to South Bend after
the Great War. Let me ask.

I am not now and never have been a
member of any subversive organization.

Thank you.

I didn't ask that.

No, I didn't.

Where did you... Princeton, Yale, and
Harvard at various times.

I matriculated at early ages.

And where were you born, sirs? And what
are your names?

Jackman changed it.

Now can we go home?

I don't know. I don't know. I don't
know. I don't know.

You know what I do is not easy.

Especially in...

Who?

I don't know.

I don't know. The longer I'm down here
on your earth, the oxygen I...

Don't worry, Uncle Martin.

You'll beat him.

I don't know, Tim. I don't know. It's
something difficult.

Strange.

Drug?

This is Dr. Weisbord, one of our
nation's leading psychiatrists.

We were very fortunate to be able to
secure his services, especially on such

short notice.

You understand this is voluntary.

But since you volunteered before, we
felt you'd have no objections.

Uh, is it a truth serum?

A derivative.

Now you will tell the truth.

Exactly as I told George.

Who? Washington.

Never tell a lie.

I taught him.

Where were you born?

Mars.

Where?

I'm a Martian.

Well, let's start at the beginning.

I was born in a sleepy little celestial
orbit.

As a child, my father, who was a glink
salesman with territories on Venus,

Jupiter, and other surrounding
asteroids, used to take me on long

to Phobos, which is the nearer of our
two moons.

Oh, what fun.

Just Dad and I, shooting through the
silent red nights, cutting through the

canals with the spray, making gigantic
pink rainbows, listening to Dad's funny

stories.

He used to tell the one about the poor
Venusian who put a down

payment on a summer asteroid, but it
only circled every two light years.

Sometimes... Sometimes I get so lonely
because I can't get home again.

You can take him home now.

Beautiful Mars, land of the seven suns
and the gorgeous dancing girls.

We understand your anxieties now.

You do?

They're his. He influenced you.

Oh, he'll be all right in the morning.
Actually, he's just having a marvelous

night's sleep. Show me the wilkie way to
go home.

The reason you were called in was that
in checking your records, we learned

about him. You did?

But we're perfectly satisfied now that
he's just a peaceful Martian visiting

here on Earth.

The classic syndrome of patriotic
anxieties of the day. You see, we all

go there, the outer space.

Some of us want it so bad we think we
are there or have been there.

I suggest you treat your uncle kindly.

He's not a well man.

We'll take the Milky Way to Venus.

On the North Star we'll play tennis.

But watch out for Joe from Jupiter.

He's a blooming menace.

Uncle Martin, don't push it.

Pay the two billion dollars?

Pay the two billion dollars.

Oh, the girls on the moon are lovely
indeed.

Would you like anything else?

No, thank you, no.

I'm fascinated with your government
space program, Tim.

Did you read here where they've approved
an additional billion dollars to the

original two billion dollars?

Hmm, that makes three billion.

Well, I've learned my lesson. Let them
pay the three billion dollars.

The additional billion dollars will be
used for the extensive development of

oxygen thermo rockets, which is exactly
what they need.

They're going to make it, Tim.

You mean it?

We're going to be all right?

Of course you are. I never said you
weren't going to be.

It's like a child, Tim.

When it starts to walk, it falls down.

Then it picks itself up, takes a few
steps, and falls again.

But you always know it's going to be all
right.

You know it's going to figure out why
it's falling, and that's when the child

starts to walk.