Would you like to inspect the original subtitles? These are the user uploaded subtitles that are being translated: I can't believe it. There's a basement under our house? The way we see it, there's a house on top of our basement. Noah, you were in charge of renovations when we moved in. How did you not know about this? When have you ever put me in charge of anything? Uh... [exhales] "Schlitz Tall Boy." Can appears to be made of steel. - Could be a collector's item. - Mine! No! Not yours! Not your basement. Not your beer can. Out, I'm kicking you out. You can't, Harper. Identifiable personal items. Layer of filth three inches thick. Clearly, they've been here longer than 30 days. They have squatters' rights. Hey, Friendly Sister. Can you ask Angry Sister why we need to prove this is our house? Phineas, my bum itches. Will you look at it? [groans] I'm not going near your ass crack 'til you introduce it to a bar of soap. Jesus Christ, Gretchen, look at them. They're half a rung above apes. Freddy, I think the lady just paid you a compliment. Thank you, lady! Hey! Be careful with my Playboy. I haven't used that one yet. May 1969. Also a collector's item. Noah, either support me or make up with your cousin Clarence, so you can sleep on his couch. Hmm? Are you gonna let her talk to you like that? I'm sure there's some sort of amicable solution that... [inhales] ...doesn't force me to take a side. Ooh, boy, she got your balls in a jar. Itchy, itchy, itchy, itchy, itchy, itchy. What am I looking at? This is crazy. They can't stay here. Don't use the C word, it's ableist. The "sanity-challenged" need our support, not judgment. Uh, ladies, no need to fight. Although I do find your fiery demeanor mucho erectionable, if you get my meaning. I think he means it gives him a boner. But I don't speak German. [theme music playing] ♪ Brother, hmm, hmm ♪ Three brothers puffin' ♪ And we just woke up In year 2020 ♪ ♪ Roll another J And forget the day ♪ ♪ Roll another J And get high ♪ ♪ Roll another J And forget the day ♪ ♪ Me and my brothers Getting fried ♪ ♪ The Freak Brothers *THE FREAK BROTHERS* [inhales] Season 01 Episode 02 Episode Title: "Squatters Rights" Aired on: November 14, 2021. [Harper] No. Do not fuck with me, Gretchen. You know how that's turned out for you in the past. - Not great. - Oh, please. This isn't volleyball at Camp Wozniak. We're on my field now. Game on. - We're in my house! - Our house. I mean, it's jointly owned. It's just a fact, not an opinion. I don't have one. I'll file a motion for a temporary stay. - I'll oppose it. - And I'll see you in court. Somebody needs to gimme a ride to... - I'll do it! - Buy my first tampon. [Noah groaning] What's gonna happen when the Switzers kick us out? I don't wanna go back to the orphanage. You don't have to worry about that, Freddy. As this formula clearly shows, I can get us back to 1969. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Oh, I see. Uh, carry the one. Divide by two. [mumbles] What the fuck does any of this mean? It says, if I reverse the chemical composition of the potion, I can return us to the past. I'll need benzene, tar, cadmium and looks like the tears of a Holy Man! This itch is turning into a tickle. Now it's back to an itch. Tickle, itch, tickle, itch... Any way to turn it into a can of salmon? 'Cause I'm hungry! Hey, aren't we also gonna need some mari-jay-wanna? Yes! But not just any strain of Sweet Mary Jane, boys. It's gotta be exactly the same as we smoked 50 years ago. That strain don't exist anymore. Which makes all this about as useful as tits on a nun. Itchy butt, itchy butt... God, dammit, Freddy! I'm computin'! Will somebody please look at my bunger? Hmm. It's green... - [Freddy farts] - and leafy. Holy shit! That's a ganja bud! What have you been doin' up there, boy? It's a bung-hole, not a bong-hole. I don't know, I do a lotta stuff up there. A lot of stuff does go up there, I've seen it. But I think the pertinent point here is that bag of weed you shoved up your fat ass fifty years ago. - [dreamy music playing] - What's that in your hand? - Nothin'. - I need a cop over here! - Let's book! - [pants] - Ew! Gross. - [pants] - Get that weed in your butt! - [groans] So the exact strain of weed we need is takin' root right here, in Freddy's fertile fanny! Get it out, get it out! Ow! Why are we doing this? - I mean... - [groans] - I'm in, but... - [groans] Hold still! The plant hasn't matured yet! That there weed is our ticket back to '69! We need to grow it just right. But we don't know nothing about weed farming. What about those guys we met in jail? Chuck and, uh, and Charlie? Yeah, yeah. They did say they was weed experts. [Chuckles] And they seemed very smart! [groans] We've grown a lot of weed in our day. But never out of an ass. Smoked it from plenty though. [chuckles] Hell yeah, we have. We've done a lot of butt bongs. Gets you super high, but bad breath. Yeah, not the best taste. You gotta have a mint afterwards. - Pound me on that one. - Mint pound! Boom! - [imitates explosion] - [chuckles] Y'all heard of the blind leading the blind? This here's the dumb leading the dumber. Shit! Chuck or Charlie, can I get a hot dog with onion and relish? They ain't selling dogs, man. They're selling weed. Oh, no, we sell hot dogs too. Freddy, hook a Kitty up with two everything dogs. Oh, hold the onions. They repeat on me like a motherfucker. You know who might know how to grow ass weed? - Mothafuckin' Doc Green. - Did you say Doc Green? As in Doctor Arlo Ignatius Green? Can't be. The one we knew in '69 should be dead ten times over! He might be dead, but he's also alive. He's got a farm up in Humboldt County. A real field of dreams, man. Imagine a farm. But instead of corn, or potatoes, or wheat or cotton, or flour, it's weed, dude. Doc Green grows the best weed in the whole country of California! Gentlemen, to Humboldt County! - Fascinating. - [Freddy farts] I haven't seen this strain in 50 years. You're a man of science, Doc, always were. You boys look terrific. You haven't aged a day. You look like your own great-grandfather. You can go fuck yourself! Now, listen, the weed is too risky to transplant. - It must be grown in anus. - [Freddy farts] Doc Green, you ever grown a marijuana plant out of a man's asshole before? I've grown it vaginally. Heard tell of urethral hydroponics, but this, oh, I could publish with this. I want co-author credit on the back cover. I'll give you the dust jacket, ya rotten prick. Now, listen, when you guys get back to '69, - I want you to do me a favor. - Anything, Doc. Tell my younger self to buy Microsoft, buy Apple, and don't sell Mother's house in Cupertino. How is Ma Green? Oh, took a shank to the spleen while doing a dime stretch in the federal pen. But never ratted me out. Bitch ratted me out. Called Animal Control. Snitches get stitches! [Meows] Looks like we got some new players in town. Scary looking too. These guys could start a drug war the likes of which this town has never seen. Ow! Oh, God! Fuckin' A, my glasses broke in the middle of my... [sighs] Let me try it again. The likes of which this town has never seen! - How was that? - Amazing. [fan whirring] Oh, God. Why is it so hot in here? [electricity zapping] - What the... - Evening! What is all this crap? We're butt farming! Uh, do you guys have any nitrogen-based liquid fertilizer? Harper, we are using sophisticated scientific principles to travel back to 1969. Once we acquire the tears of a Holy Man, of course. And harvest weed outta this gentleman's rump womb. 1969? Savage. First moon landing, Beatles' Abbey Road. [gasps] And Woodstock. [chuckles] Right on. We were at Woodstock. You were? No. Of course they weren't, Camille. Woodstock was 50 years ago. You know nothing. You've done nothing. - You are nothing! - Eh. With all due respect... [chuckle. You should be thanking us! We're doing all this so we can time travel back to the past. Where you are not! Oh, I forgot, you've completely lost touch with reality. Enjoy it while you can. We're going to court tomorrow, then you are bye-bye! Don't listen to my sister. I'll beat her in court. Like I beat her in everything else. If you discount income, marriage and last night's game of Scrabble! "Quixotic," bitch! Seventy-eight points! What? Sheesh. Don't need a PhD in Psychology to tell which of them was Daddy's favorite, eh? - [chuckles] - [gasps, clears throat] Is this a trowel? That is a William Sonoma Frittata spatula. What are you going to use it for? Aerating Freddy's poop soil. I am sorry I asked. Now, if you'll excuse me, you're cutting into my testicle-burnishing time. - [toothbrush whirring] - Ooh. Whoa, man, what is that? A Philips Sonicare Diamond Clean, rechargeable with 4,000 rpms of dual head vibrating action. It's heavenly. Vibrating heads? You can take care of business on the mailman's leg. Gimme that! A lady got needs. Get your own. Oh, my. [Chuckles] Oh. [Gretchen] My clients are entitled to squatters' rights. Do you have evidence of their occupancy? Yes, Your Honor. Plaintiff Exhibit A. Petrified fecal matter. Carbon-dated to the late 1960s. [Freddy] Hey! That's mine! And that's a poop drop. [metal rattling] Hey, Judge. Can you open the blinds on that window? My friend's ass needs direct sunlight. Okay, I'll bite. Why? I'm growing a rare stain of mary-ju-ana in me buttocks. Do you men have any idea how inappropriate this is? Those buds are scorched. They need indirect light. Oh, so you're an expert now? I object! Put that in the record, lady typer! I wish I had my damn pastels. This is like Michael Angelo workin' with finger paints. Oh, Your Honor, please! The defendants are making a mockery of our judicial system. - [crowd murmuring] - All right. All right. Everybody, just chill. You mind? Ooh, ooh. Cold! Cold! [Pants] More, please? Hey, is that my frittata spatula? You're beginning to annoy me, Mister... Bond. James Bond. Like I'm gonna tell him my real name. Hard to capture this degree of stupid in black and white. Excuse me! Hi. My husband, Noah Switzer, PhD., has a statement in support of me. I'll read it into the record. I assume your husband can speak for himself. - You assume wrong, Judge. - Excuse me, Your Honor. But it appears a crime is being committed. Oh, shit. Narcs! - Who are you? - Agents Larson and Jones. Bureau of California Cannabis Control. The BCCC, see? [gasps] Oh. Although cannabis is now legal, it is highly regulated. By us. And those gentlemen don't have the proper permits. Permits? W... W... What do you mean permits? Like Permit the Frog! He's a pig fucker, right, Phineas? Sustained. Ooh! This situation is goin' down the shitter fast. I better finish up my masterpiece. Your Honor, may I approach to remove the unlicensed plant? Hell no, you can't! We need this dope to get back to 1969! Hey, look! Isn't that Raquel Welch? Run, Phineas! [Kitty meows] [Freddy] Hi, Chuck! Hi, Charlie! - Hey, it's the Freak dudes! - Those guys have great hair. - Kitty, what's happening? - Two narcs with guns on our six. We need a distraction. Do your thing. Copy that. I got a very sophisticated plan. - [purrs] - Ow, ow! [meows] Oh, fudge! My eyes! Bureau of Cannabis Control, Agent Larson! [groans] Oh. Oh, my God! Those BCC Agents beat up that poor little cat! You monsters! [grunting, groaning] That's called "pussy power". [inhales] [exhales] I'm gonna get those Freaks. We're gonna get them, Cannabis Control Agent Larson. Together. [Franklin] Judge said we can stay here until he makes his ruling in a week. - [sighs] - [stomach rumbles] - My tummy's making doody noises. - You gotta hold it in! Our futures in the past depend on it! Well, nothin' binds Fat Freddy like cheese. Fat Freddy like cheese! We'll take you out for some cheese. But first, Camille found us our Holy Man. - We gotta get his tears. - How'd she find him? Through a friend of hers named Google. Probably another Chinese. Can you be a good boy? Hold it in till we get back? - [groans] - I'll pack his ass with topsoil. Pack it real good. Ain't nothin' gettin' in or out of this booty hole. - [farts] - [burps] Hello! Welcome to Walmart. Swami Bhajan! Gimme some skin, man! I am called Benjamin now. You remember us? From Woodstock. Oh, let me think. Shit, no, I don't remember you. You gave us some freaky shit, man. You look like every other filthy hippie who went to work for IBM. Not us, man. We haven't worked a day in our life. What the hell happened to you? [sighs] I'll tell you what happened to me. I opened a hot yoga studio in Pacific Heights. And was peddling my schtick for 19.99 on VHS and Betamax. Then one day, - I cranked the heat up to 115. - [pants] And some soccer mom overheated. And exploded like a chili filled baked potato in a microwave. - [groans] - [gasping] Dead? Yes. Like my third ex-wife, when the toaster fell into the bathtub. - [electricity sparks] - I got sued. They took everything. House, car, robes, hair extensions. Oh, that's a sad story. You look like you're about to cry. [clears throat] No, I'm all right. Well, you shouldn't be. You're a failure. Your life is a waste. Just think of the lost potential and broken dreams. Yeah, and now it's your final days, and you're all shriveled and hard to look at. Your corpse soon to be discovered by a hungry hobo, who thought he smelled rotting possum! [gasps, cries] And we're good. Remember, pal, a trip is not a fall. Thank you for shopping at Walmart! [cries] You're taking it too personally, Harp. They're my clients, it's my duty to defend them. Really? Okay, even if it means Larry, Moe and Scratchy Ass are living in my basement? The law says it's their basement. Not yet, the law hasn't. Noah, back me up. Oh, I just remembered! Today's the Annual Lotus Festival and I haven't picked up any Peking duck. What? If you need me, I'll be in Chinatown. Where they have very poor cell reception. Okay, goodbye. That's the closet. [toothbrush whirring] Anybody within 20 feet had better get an umbrella. [chuckles] You're in the splash zone. This Kitty like Shamu. Splish-splash. Uh, six orders of cheese fries, hold the fries, and, uh, maybe some extra cheese? I got eyes on the eagle. Bird is in the nest. What? The scratches? - I'm hideous, aren't I? - I don't see scratches. To me they look like dueling scars from 18th century Prussia. I think you're more handsome than ever. They're getting away. Let's go. Go, go, go! - [siren blaring] - [tires screech] [over loudspeaker] Bureau of Cannabis Control! Move your vehicle! Hey, wait your turn, weed pig! We have feelings too, sir. Damn! It's those narcs from the courthouse. Let's book it! Suspects fleeing. Pursue on foot! [upbeat music playing] [horns honking] - [screams] - [pants] [pants] [Bob over speech generator] Oh, no. Not these guys again. Shift to second gear. [tires screech] Hey, that looks like Bob Pimko! Hi, Bob! [Bob] Oh, no! Apply brake, apply brake! [both pant] [Agent Larson] Come on. This way. You're using a Yaxell Ran carbon cleaver to behead these ducks? Excellent choice, Mr. Fong. [all] Whoa! Bureau of Cannabis Control, Agent Larson! [tram bell dinging] No. You have to download the app! Do they have it for Android? [all gasp] - [gunshots] - [tires screech] Hey, Freddy, can we hitch a ride? Woo-hoo! [all] Whoa! [tires screech] [gunshots] [grunts] [both laugh] [Bob] Apply brake! Apply brake! [automated voice] Brake applied. [sighs] [Bob] Oh, no. Engage shield. - No, no, no. - No, no, no, no. [Groans] [Bob] You don't fuck with Bob Pimko. Success! You can go to the bathroom now, Freddy. I can't! The cheese binded me up bad. You think you're the only one here that gets constipated? Just one piece of fruit, Freddy, your whole life would change! Ta-da! A perfectly rolled doobie. Phin, you got the magic sauce? Uno pimento, por fa-fork. I'm gonna miss Gretchen. Ain't many gals like her back in our time. What are you saying, you wanna bring her with us? We can bring a friend? I call Noah. Come on, man, open your eyes. Modern gal like Gretchen don't want nothing to do with a shit-kickin' idiot like you. Yeah, I guess you're right. Well, let's spark up that doobie. - [lighter clicks] - [inhaling] [coughs] Wait! We never have any food in our old house. We're gonna have major munchies. [exhales] I do believe Fat Freddy has a point. Gentlemen, to the kitchen! I feel woozy! That's mother time. She's calling us home. See you on the other side, brothers. Sweet tits and hairy pits. We're back in the Summer of Love, fellas! Feed me. Huh? What? What... Wait a minute Oh. What the hell? Dang it, we're still in 2020! - [meows] - Don't tell the boys - I like my ass eaten! - Look! [groans] Hey, man, why you flipping out? The date! It's three weeks from when we toked. Well, well. Our Rip Van Winkles have Rip Van woken. Noah's here! I did get to bring a friend. Harper thought you might be dead. But I convinced her the incessant burping and farting indicated neural control of homeostasis. Meaning you were in a deep sleep. I have video from the security cam. ["Dreamer" playing] ♪ Dreamer You're nothing but a dreamer ♪ ♪ Well can you put your hands In your head, oh, no ♪ ♪ I said, "Far out" ♪ "What a day, a year..." ♪ Well, you get the idea. Son of a bitch! We didn't time travel to 2020! We just fell asleep in the basement for 50 years! You crackpot beaker boilin' buffoon! You owe me 50 years of my life! And your breath smells like dog balls. Way I see it, I discovered the fountain of youth. I should win the Nobel Prize! I like prizes, what do I win? You came in second place for the dumb-ass of the year award. Well, it was an honor to be nominated. Oh. You're awake? Great, get out. Judge ruled against you. Harper, can you at least pretend to be human? Where are they supposed to go? I... It's okay, Gretchen. We've overstayed our welcome by half a century. We can file an appeal. - Or a... - It's all right. We've got our health, we've got each other, and we've got our freedom. [thudding] Hands where we can see 'em! Cuff that cat! Oh, sure, cuff the sister first, huh? - [handcuffs click] - Not so tight. Not so tight. I've got circulation issues. The fat one was feces-farming. Check him! - [grunts] - Hey! - He's clean. - [Freddy farts] Well... [groans] ...not... [Freddy farts] -...clean. - [Freddy farts] - [groans] The opposite of clean. The farthest away from clean on any scale. But there's no cannabis. Check their asses! Check all their asses! Every single ass! Do you even have a warrant? My wounds are my warrant, counselor. [groans] Get off me! [Franklin] Hey, get your hands off her! She's not just a nice piece of ass. There's a brain in that ass. She defends people. She cares about people. And Noah puts food in my dish and changes my water. - [stomach rumbling] - Oh! Sure Harper was trying to kick us out. But she's just trying to protect what's hers. If I was her, I'd probably kick us out too. Oh, well. Thank you. That's... Water. [Groans] Actually a really nice thing to say. It shows a level of understanding and maturity of my position. Whoa! [all] Ew! [man] In my nose. It's in my nose! Oh, God! [groans] Oh, God. Oh, this is horrible! - You were saying? - I think what she was saying is you guys can stay in the basement until you get on your feet. No, I was not saying that! [clears throat] But that is what we are going to do! It's my house too and I have a say. If that's okay with you, honey. [groans] Fine. The important thing is I beat my sister. So you can stay, for now. [all] Yay! It's just until I invent an actual time machine to take us back. It shouldn't take me too long. Give or take half a century. I don't know what all the noise was about, but check this out! I found this picture of Joe Cocker at Woodstock. Look who's in the front row. They were there! Cocker was spazzing out like that because he had a case of the old crabs. Hmm. We all did. Some of us still do! Well, let us know when dinner's ready. [Harper gasps] - [lighter clicks] - [toothbrush whirs] [Kitty growling] - [growling] - [gasps] ♪ Dreamer ♪ You're nothing but a dreamer ♪ ♪ Well, can you put your hands In your head, oh, no ♪ ♪ I said, "Dreamer" ♪ ♪ You say you were a dreamer ♪ Well, can you put your hands In your head oh, no ♪ ♪ I said, "Far out" ♪ "What a day, a year A life it is" ♪ ♪ You know ♪ Well, you know, you had It comin' to you ♪ ♪ Well, now there's not A lot I can do ♪ ♪ Well dreamer ♪ ♪ You stupid, little dreamer... It's a good show. 22384