All language subtitles for Futurama s07e17 Forty Percent Leadbelly.eng

Sync and corrections by n17t01
Resync for WEB-DL by lost0ne www.addic7ed.com

? Two... two, three... ?

7x17
Forty Percent Leadbelly

(whooshing)

(static, trilling)

(whooshing)

_

Planet Express Discount Prisoner
Transfer at your service.

Take a good look,
Dr. Brutaloff.

This prison is where you'll be
spending your 300-year sentence.

Yeah, until you're defrosted
and wake up refreshed,

unaware of any time
having passed.

He... he heard you!

Oh, please. It's probably just
the carbonite thawing slightly.

Take him down to processing

while I stay here
and get hooted at.

(whirring)

Ooh, yeah, baby!

Oh, stop.

Fry, look!

That's Silicon Red, the
universe's greatest folk singer!

There's your wallet,
your guitar,

and your gun.

You're free to go.

Ah, still cocked.

So, he's a folk singer.
So what?

So what? Have
you forgotten

my lifelong dream of
being a folk singer...

because I sure have
until right now.

Silicon Red! Silicon Red!

(panting)

Hey, I have
a lifelong dream too.

Of not being left alone
with a frozen supervillain.

(screams) Don't try anything,
Dr. Brutaloff!

I know karate.

Aye-hyah!

(guitar playing)

? Then I shot him and stabbed
him and stole all his gold ?

? And I tried on his face
while his body turned cold ?

Lovely.

Just lovely.

New topic. Can I have
your autograph,

and also you tell me everything
you know about folk singing,

and I'll take your guitar too?

Old Salmonella? Son, I ought
to kill you for asking.

We met doing hard time on
a Mississippi chain gang.

And she'd been with me
through 30-odd convictions.

30? You must be quite
a bungling lowlife.

Anyhow, about the guitar.

(clicks)

Aw, come on! I can't be
a famous folk singer

without a cool guitar.

Can I at least get a photo?

And before you answer that...

(laughs) Now I'll
just have someone

duplicate your guitar.
Thanks, sucker.

(laughs) You're the
sucker, sucker. See...

with all Salmonella and me been
through, her sound is unique.

All your fancy technology
will never be able

to copy this guitar.

BEELER:
Using my fancy technology,

I can make an exact copy
of this guitar.

Tell me, Dr. Beeler.

- Will I need to threaten you?
- Not at all.

You see, nowadays we can take
a unique and beautiful object,

and easily reduce it to a
formula for mass production.

I call the process
"science."

I'll just need to locate

that guitar image
on your file system.

(giggles)

Whoa, that's a lot of porn.

Where'd you store
the guitar picture?

I don't know.

I mainly hang out in here.

Ah-ha, your folk singing folder.

I'll just double-kick on that.

(grunts)

Got it.

Now I'll convert that guitar
image to a wire-frame model.

There, like so.

And send it wirelessly
to my 3D printer.

(beeping)

By laying down layer after layer
of nano-plastic,

it can turn your wildest dreams

into ordinary reality.

Witchcraft! Sorcerer!

Neat.

So, how long will it take?

Four or five hours.

Shall we adjourn
to the porn folder?

I call my new guitar Bender Mae
because Bender may be

the greatest folk singer
of all time!

It looks pretty authentic.

You bet it's authentic.
See this scratch?

I tell people she got it
while I was doing hard time

with a New Hampshire
chain gang.

FRY: I have
a scratch too.

From where Dr. Brutaloff slashed
me with his finger knives,

right after he thawed
out of his carbonite,

and right before he froze me
in his carbonite

because you deserted me.

(groans)

BENDER: Eh, you're always
getting frozen in stuff.

It's your thing, man.

Bender, you're not a folk singer
just 'cause you have a guitar.

And a flannel shirt.

I claim I won it
in a knife fight at J. Crew.

It must be interesting
to win a knife fight.

I wouldn't know.

The point is... do you even
know any actual folk songs?

(scoffs) Actual folk songs
are all public domain.

Where's the money in that?

I'll just make up my own.

But, robot, you can't
just make up folk songs

like you can a medical diploma.

They have to come
from the heart.

Wrong again, Zoidberg.

While you were yakking,
I downloaded every folk song

in the universe
and analyzed them.

They're only
a few basic patterns.

For example...

36% of all folk-song heroes
work on a railroad

and are named "Big" something.

Next slide, please.

75% of these big railroad men
have bad-hearted women

who done them wrong,

usually with a smooth-talking
rambler.

There's a lot more,
but in the end,

somebody kills somebody,
blah, blah, blah.

? Somebody kills somebody,
blah, blah, blah ?

Catchy.

Not what I meant,
but don't perform it

without my permission!
Anyway...

using this simple formula,
I can generate

as many hit folk songs
as I want.

All I need is an audience.

And that's
where Silicon Red comes in.

(folk guitar playing)

(coughs) Man, all
this corncob pipe smoke

is irritating my stab wounds.

MAN:
Ladies and gentlemen,

I'm proud to present,

fresh from another down-home
authentic prison term,

the universe's greatest
folk singer,

Silicon Red!

Thank you.

Silicon Red, everyone.

(applause)

(Silicon Red grunts)

I'm Ramblin' Rodriguez, the new
greatest folk singer ever.

And I'm gonna sing
my new masterpiece,

"The Ballad of Me,
Ramblin' Rodriguez."

? Well... ?

? My bad-hearted woman
loved a smooth-talking gambler ?

? So I ran him over
with my train ?

? Lord, Lord, yes, I ?

? Ran him over with my train! ?

That name again
is Ramblin' Rodriguez.

(crowd boos)

Why are they
booing me, Silicon?

'Cause your song
was insincere, boy.

Now, get out
and don't come back

till you've lived a life
worth singing about.

Yes, sir.

_

And don't go to prison.
That's my shtick!

I failed at
my lifelong dream again.

How can I be so bad
at everything I try

and still be so great?

Bender, you have
a lovely baritone,

and you sure can strum
that plastic guitar,

but you can't write
a real folk song

about experiences
you haven't had.

Yeah, you should write a song
about a heartless robot

who leaves his best friend
to be murdered.

Look, Leela, I'd love to write
about my own experiences...

The heartless robot is Bender.

The best friend is me.

How can you people be so blind?

But I've never picked cotton
or been on top of Old Smokey

or worked on anything
all the livelong day,

let alone a railroad.

Then go live among
the railroad men, why not?

You'll come to understand them,

just as I now understand
the ape-men of Earth.

As stupid as
Zoidberg's idea is...

it's brilliant when I have it.

I'm off to the railroad
to become a folk singer.

(humming)

Uh, I'm looking for the wrong
side of the tracks.

Then you've come to the right
side of the tracks.

Have a seat, stranger.

My name's Bender Rodriguez

and I want to learn
the railroading business.

Big Caboose. I'm
a steel-driving man

working the trans-universal line.

Wow, you've had
the exact experiences

I want to steal for my song.

Aw, heck, I'm nothing special.

Just a down-home robot
with a big old hammer.

Hammer, that should
be easy to rhyme.

- You done time in the slammer?
- Uh, nope.

- Been to Alabama?
- Sorry.

How's your grammar?

Praiseworthy.

_

Bender, meet Fast Frank Brogan.

Daredevil engineer dies
in the crash of Old '88.

Dandy Jim and Gus.

Gentlemen hobos
with a story to tell.

I was got drunk
and ate my big toe.

Can't say I miss it.

And good old Cookie,

the crusty comically inept
geological surveyor.

Jiggers! I dropped
my sexton in the stew.

(train horn blows)
BENDER: ? Been up north ?

(all grunt)

? Been down south ?
(all grunt)

? Got a real weak back ?
(all grunt)

? I got a real big mouth ?
(all grunt)

(slurps)

So while Bender goofs off
at some railroad camp,

I have to deliver dynamite
to a railroad camp myself.

And it's the same
railroad camp.

I mean, the irony is palpable.

Oops.

Whoopsie.

My bad.

Dibs on the toes.

So how's it going with
the real-world experience?

Have you found a railroad man
to write a song about?

Yep, my good friend

Big Something here.

Uh, Caboose.

I'm a steel-driving man,

and there ain't much more
to say about me.

Not till now there wasn't.

? Well, Big Caboose was
a steel-drivin' son of a gun ?

? Till a bad-hearted woman
he spied... ?

But, Bender,

I never spied
no bad-hearted woman.

In my song
you did--

a temptress named--
I don't know-- Jezebel.

Wow, creativity's hard work.

(slurps loudly)

Ah.

You know my favorite
part of your song?

The part where
it ended. (laughs)

Then, settle in, 'cause that's
about a half hour from now.

? Well, Jezebel's heart
did wander ?

? When she saw
that ramblin' man ?

? He was tall
and dark and shiny ?

? And a native Mexican. ?

That sleazy rambler sounds
an awful lot like you, Bender.

Hey, thanks for noticing.

Just for that, I'm gonna
slip you into the 57th verse.

You can be my best friend
who abandons me when I need you.

Now, that's a verse
we can all enjoy.

? Well, Rodriguez ran ?

? To his best friend ?

? Said, "Help me
or I'll surely be killed" ?

? Fry laughed and he said,
"You deserted me once ?

? "Now it's your turn
to feel the chill, Lord, Lord ?

? Now it's your turn
to feel the chill." ?

You've accurately portrayed
the nature of my grievance.

(train whistle blows)

? Big Caboose went lookin'
for Rodriguez ?

? Straight
to New New York town ?

? He cried... ?

Bender, guess what.

I met a fabulous girl and
we're engaged to be hitched.

That's great, Caboose.

Come on in and set a spell.

Aw, no time.

I got someplace to be.

See you soon, honeybunch.

Okay, dumpling.

My man's gone, gone.

Oh, I'm so lonely and easy.

Oh.

(both giggling)

BENDER (� la train whistle):
Whoo-whoo.

(both giggling)

Oh, yeah.

This is definitely going
in the song.

? He cried, "Rambler,
you slept with my Jezebel." ?

Hey, what's your name, anyhow?

Jezebel.

Oh, good, I won't have

to change any words.

(yawns)

Yeah, you're right. It's getting late.
(turns off TV)

I'll get your coat.

Oh, hey, Big Caboose.

What are you doing
here on Earth?

I'm here for to see
Ramblin' Rodriguez.

Well, he's at the
railroad camp.

I know,

but some strange force drew me
to New New York town.

? That rambler slept
with my Jezebel ?

? Now I'm comin' for
to shoot him down, Lord, Lord ?

? Comin' for
to shoot him down. ?

Guess I'll go back
to the railroad camp now.

That's weird, he sounded a lot
like Bender's folk song.

Not a lot
like Bender's folk song--

exactly like et cetera,
et cetera.

His song is coming
true somehow.

Oh, my God, reality is
infringing Bender's copyright.

? "I'm comin' for to
shoot you down." ?

No, wait.

? "I'm comin' for
to run you down." ?

With a train.

Get it?

(beeping)

(beeping)

It's over, Jezebel. Grab
your things and get out.

I didn't bring any things.

That's what I like
best about you, baby.

(train whistle blowing,
Bender screaming)

Rambler, you slept
with my Jezebel,

and I'm comin' for
to run you down, Lord, Lord.

? I'm comin' for ?

? To run you down. ?
(whimpering)

(grunting)

(train whistle blows)

(panting)

(train whistle blowing)

(panicked grunting)

Fry, help, let me in.

(yawns)

Bender?

What are you doing?
It's 3:00 a.m.

I don't care if it's three B.M.

Open up and hide me!

I don't think so, Bender.

You deserted me once,

and now it's your turn
to "feel the chill."

Ha!

(train chugging)

(train whistle blows)

(screams)

(screaming)

(beeping)

Breaker, breaker.

Hola.

(panting)

Professor, help.

The hero of my folk song
tried to run me down,

and Fry refused to save me.

- That doesn't sound like me.
- Fry?

But you just--
eh, I'll figure it out later.

But first I'll kill you!
(yells)

(both grunting)
Bender, stop.

We've been trying
to warn you all night.

You didn't answer
your cell phone telephone,

so the Professor tried his CB.

Uh, scratch that,
Rubber Turkey.

We got a 20 on the tin man.

Toodle-oo.

But Fry betrayed me
at our apartment!

Just like in your folk song.

Somehow everything
you sang about

is happening in real life.

(gasps)
Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Are you saying
that guy at the apartment

was some kind
of exact copy of Fry?

'Cause that's crazy.

He's a unique and
beautiful object.

(gasps)

The printer.

Oh, I must have left
the wireless connection

to your folk song
directory open.

Everything you wrote
in the song got routed

straight to the 3-D printer.

Big Caboose,
duplicate Fry, even Cookie

the crusty, comically inept
geological surveyor--

they're all made
of nano-plastic.

So, if Bender had sung
about, I don't know,

some crazy giant land
octopus attacking me,

it would have
actually happened?

(blows raspberry) I can't even
imagine singing about such a thing.

? Well... ?

(beeping)
Fry, run.

Aw, relax, Beeler's
stupid machine takes hours

to print anything.

No, it doesn't.

I improved it
using fancy modern technology.

(growling)

(Fry screaming)

Bender, whatever you do,

don't think about
any more octopuses.

Octopuses?

I believe the correct plural
is octopi.

(all screaming)

I'm sorry.
"Octopuses" is also acceptable.

Think about puppies, Bender,

cute, harmless, dead puppies.

Don't worry. I'll disconnect
him from the printer.

No, wait, I know how to save
Bender from Big Caboose.

(train whistle blows,
Bender shudders)

All he has to do is write
his way out of this mess,

and the 3-D printer
will make it happen.

Like how?

Well, I don't know.

Make up another giant octopus
and have it kill Big Caboose.

What kind of lazy ending
is that?

I'm not gonna put that
in my song.

Hey, I have a cool idea.

Create a duplicate Bender,

so when Big Caboose kills it,
it's not real, it's duplicate.

Ooh, ooh, they did that
on Star Trek, TNG.

Cram it, nerd.

I'm not going to just copy

some feel-good
TV show wrap-up.

(train chugs, whistle blows)

I can think of a hundred
endings that'll save you.

Just pick one.

No, Dr. Beeler,
I won't just pick one.

My audience deserves better than
some crappy, formulaic ending.

If I must die,

let me die in a blaze
of artistic integrity.

? Well... ?

(strumming guitar) _

? Then the steel-drivin' man ?

? Rammed his train
through the wall ?

? And crushed him flatter
than a MacBook Air, Lord, Lord ?

? Crushed him flatter
than a MacBook Air. ?

BENDER: ? But while you
were all out fighting ?

? With the giant
plastic octopi ?

? I copied myself, you see... ?

(gasping) - Bender!
- Bender!

? And I cowered
in the bathroom ?

? While that steel-drivin'
moron ?

? Killed a duplicate
instead of me ?

- ? Lord, lord ?
- ? Killed a duplicate ?

? Instead of me. ?

(clamoring)

Now, that's what I call
a great ending.

I made a copy of myself
and Big Caboose killed him.

But you said making
a copy of yourself

would be a lousy ending.

No, duplicate me said that.

See, I had to be sure
he wouldn't try

and weasel out of getting killed

like I would and did,

so I created him with a tragic
weakness, artistic integrity.

Of course.

How could we have thought
a guy with integrity

was you even for a second?

Because you're idiots.

Come on, Silicon Red,
let's sell out.

(hip-hop playing)

? I'm the real Rodriguez,
will you please stand up? ?

? He been workin'
on the railroad ?

? Ladies can't get enough ?

? I made a 3-D version
of my worst nightmare ?

? Sucker tried to stop the
printer, and I found him there ?

? Went 187 on his robot ass ?

? Turned out to be
a copy of my robot ass ?

? Now we're folk-singin' players
packin' Beaujolais ?

? And makin' max contributions
to our 401K. ?

ALL:
Peace out.

(microphones feed back,
crowd cheering)

Sync and corrections by n17t01
Resync for WEB-DL by lost0ne www.addic7ed.com

Repair and Synchronization by
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