Original subtitles

D'oh!

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

- Sync and corrections by ByDem - - www.addic7ed.com -

This is Kent Brockman on location

among the good people of Springfield.

Coward!

Because today, we celebrate beautiful Skyline Park,

a reclamation project built atop the ruins

of the Springfield Monorail.

Monorail. Monorail. Monorail. Monorail.

No, they're not building a new monorail.

Why not? This one couldn't fail.

Couldn't fail. Couldn't fail.

♪ It's a monstrous creation ♪

♪ Of mass transportation. ♪

Throw me again!

No, we're repurposing the old monorail track

into a completely new and original feature

we ripped off from New York:

the Springfield Skypark-Line.

I love this space.

Planters, benches,

solar-powered talking trash cans.

Thank you for the used porn.

Huh?

Uh, okay, uh, do we go, uh,

gut to gut or, uh, butt-butt to nut?

Don't worry, we'll use the bypass board.

Okay, fatsos, suck it in.

- Oh! - Whoa.

Oh!

I got Homer's sandwich.

I got Wiggum's gun.

And now, to culminate today's events,

let's turn on the electricity

that illuminates the tiny "no smoking" signs.

Huh? Somehow the track is getting juice!

Yes! Now to put it on power save.

The monorail... it's alive!

I warned you not to...

Ha-ha!

Welcome, senior citizen.

No more Nimoy!

On the positive side, with this disaster,

we have surpassed Detroit and Kabul

as the world's most unlucky city.

Er, ah, er.

Couldn't you have at least put little wedges under the wheels?

Er, uh, sorry, sweetheart, but running a city is

a little more complicated than getting your nails done.

Don't you worry

your pretty little head about it.

Mr. Mayor, that is so sexist.

Uh-oh, sounds like someone's girdle is pinching.

Well, now, it's all in fun.

No one respects you ladies more than I.

Now if you wouldn't mind serving the coffee and cake,

we men can get down to business.

This is the last time I'm doing this.

So I better do it perfectly.

Here you go, Dr. Hibbert.

I can't believe Mayor Quimby talking down to me like that.

And by the way, women don't wear girdles anymore.

We wear Spanx and other shapewear.

Tell me about it.

People think we've moved on, but this world is as sexist as ever.

Thanks, Obama.

What's so great about Quimby anyway?

I could cut a ribbon.

And I could make it curl nicely

using the edge of the giant scissors.

You'd be a great mayor, Mom.

You're organized, you manage the budget,

and thanks to Dad, you're an expert on the court system.

Fun fact: being a defendant gets you out of jury duty.

Mom, this is our time.

Wonder Woman showed that if you're a goddess

with superpowers, there's no limit to what you can do.

You could be mayor!

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

A woman prime minister, okay.

Women Ghostbusters, cool.

Woman head of the Federal Reserve,

as far as I'm concerned, what's that?

But a woman mayor?

If Mom becomes mayor, we can get away with anything.

Help me, Jesus!

Pick a side.

Hey. Where'd everybody go?

Marge, this town is ready for a change.

Quimby has been mayor, like, forever.

You'd think he could lose that sash.

It's like, we know, okay?

All right now, listen.

The key to victory is micro-targeting.

Micro-targeting.

Think of the voters as a pie.

Yes, Homer, someone here said "pie."

I know, "Mmm, pie."

I'm sorry, go on.

Uh, we use data analysis to divide the pie

into tiny little slivers

and tailor a message to each micro-group.

You just tell them what they want to hear until you get 51%.

Then you can govern like a far-right nut-job.

♪ I'm Marge Simpson ♪

♪ And won't you vote for me? ♪

- ♪ Whatever your obsession is ♪ - _

♪ Is my priority. ♪

I stand with you against revenuers.

Oh, uh, durn revenuers!

Well, you's the new John Galt, aren't you?

Hey, can you take a picture with our Ayn Rand scarecrow?

- ♪ From widows to your lunch pail Joes ♪ - _

- ♪ To vets of foreign wars ♪ - _

- ♪ There's no single-issue voter ♪ - _

♪ My campaign will ignore. ♪

Marge, we really appreciate this.

You're the first politician that's ever met with us weirdos.

What's the biggest issue you exotic pet owners face?

Keeping our pets from eating each other.

Yes. As the owner of an impala, I...

- Hey, where'd it go? - Oh, boy.

♪ From soccer moms to mafia dons ♪

♪ I'll give you what you need ♪

♪ I'm Marge Simpson ♪

♪ And won't you vote for me? Yeah! ♪

Why do people assume all I can do

is feed spaghetti to dogs that want to make out?

What do you want to do?

Carve a little wooden boy and make him come to life.

Oh.

_

Now, for our third and fourth party candidates,

I regret to say you are just shy of the polling results required,

so you're excluded from the debate.

Bye-bye.

Mrs. Simpson, you've targeted small constituencies.

Do you have any proposals that would appeal

to every Springfielder?

Well, Kent, I am a mom.

And as a mom, I want to help this town eat its vegetables.

Vegetables, Marge?

As moderator, it's my duty to fact check

that many of them are yucky.

It's a metaphor.

Stinkin' metaphors!

I only trust similes.

I enjoy metaphors.

They're raindrops on the flower that is the ear.

You put in a "like" or an "as,"

or so help me you are going down.

She's completely cooked.

Unlike the chicken she brought to the potluck.

Oh, Helen is as bitter as the lemonade

she brought to the potluck.

What a terrible potluck that was.

Why wasn't this a town hall event?

I like to see them balance on the stools.

You know, my entire life,

that stupid tire fire has been burning.

And it's ruined our town.

I promise, if you elect me,

I'll put that fire out.

No tire fire?

Ooh, just like Zurich.

- Mm. - Mm.

Mm-hmm!

Is that enough?

And with the last senior citizen gently reminded

that they cannot vote at IHOP, the results are now final.

History is made.

Marge Simpson is our new mayor.

The first woman and the second to pee sitting down.

Marge! Marge! Marge!

Thank you.

Homie, you want to make out with the mayor?

What? No! Ew!

Oh, you mean you.

Okay.

Now I really wish I'd voted.

Whee! Whee!

Look at me! I'm a public servant!

Woo-hoo!

And so our new mayor is doing what was unthinkable

in the Quimby Regime: something.

Roll the 'dozers!

Well, sorry,

but I-I can't let you put me out of business.

You'd ruin the air for the whole town just to sell knickknacks?

Knickknacks?

They-they may be to you,

but, uh, they put my son through med school.

He named, um, uh, a-a stammer after me.

You know.

I failed.

I failed on my one promise.

- Oh. - _

And so, Marge Simpson is already a failure.

The fastest fall from grace since Mamie Eisenhower

destroyed a piano store on inauguration day.

_

Hey, Mom, want to get some lunch?

I'd love a lunch break,

but I've got to get that tire fire out first.

Already neglecting your family, Madam Mayor?

Why you little! Don't embarrass your mother!

Guys, guys, stop!

I'm the mayor.

Everything you do reflects on me.

Of course, honey.

It's just hard to restrain yourself

when you're above the law.

We're not above the law.

Oh, yeah, yeah, I get it.

Hmm? _

I want you to promise me.

Can you both behave like Lisa, just for a little bit?

"I'm Lisa. I'm Lisa."

"I like music."

"My boyfriend is broccoli."

Hey!

We're here to buy your stand.

Yeah, well, it's not for sale.

All I want to do is help this city,

and I can't because of this ding-dong.

How dare you insult me like that?

I was there!

What? What, what, what, what, what?

Clyde's a Vietnam vet,

a survivor of the Battle of Dhing Dhong.

Thank you.

Than Kyu was his best friend.

Stepped on a land mine in the battle of One Pun Too Many.

This is not good, Marge. Not good.

Oh.

Marge's beehive of activity has become

a hornet's nest of trouble.

Also, our news broadcasts have been reduced to two sentences.

Good night.

There's only one way out.

You're gonna have to do a live,

completely unscripted heart-to-heart with the voters.

- Here's your script. - I don't want a script.

Are you nuts?

Good evening.

I'm here to talk to you, one-on-one,

just an ordinary mom sitting in her kitchen.

This is a disaster.

I've seen counterclockwise knob turning before,

but not like this.

Marge, what time is dinner ready?

I'm in the middle of a speech.

So, 6:00?

You'll get it when you get it.

Wait a minute. Something's turning them around.

Marge, can you cook a Hot Pocket in the dryer?

Homer Simpson,

the only time you shut your mouth is to keep food inside.

That's it.

She's turned a gaffe-making tubby

into a laugh-yielding hubby.

Does that work?

Let's see, the subter-hand is all right.

The math checks out.

I'll be the Kellyanne Conway of this thing.

Kellyanne Conway?

I like how she always looks like she just woke up.

I think it's inspiring how now a woman can be Joseph Goebbels.

Marge, do we have any bread?

Check your chest.

Woo-hoo!

Oh, my God.

Those are the highest approval ratings

I've ever seen for an incumbent: 53%!

Marge, your numbers are simply fantastic.

And all you had to do was throw your husband under the bus.

Well, don't tell me you're sad

about throwing your husband under the bus.

I'm happy if he can fit under a bus.

Zing!

Yeah. Zing.

Mr. Simpson, we're naming a sandwich after you.

My lifelong dream has come true.

I've got this all planned.

Start with a full Reuben with all the fixin's.

Put a club sandwich on top.

The bottom bun is, at first glance,

a chicken-fried steak.

But it's worth a closer look, because...

Sir, sir, sir. We've already made it.

The Open-Mouthed Turkey Goofball?

That is so not me.

But I'll take six.

We're honored to have with us the mayor...

...and First Doofus Homer Simpson.

Homer's made Marge happy more times than he can count: three!

And we're here for a very, very serious charity:

Save the Whales.

All right, that's it!

No. That's really why we're here!

I am not a whale!

I am a man with blubber and several harpoon scars!

What a day for this town.

We've made a deal with the librarians' union.

Shh.

Homer would've been here,

but he backed out when he heard the library

didn't have any pop-up books.

Great news, Marge. You've tapped into something

women and men can agree on: husbands are idiots.

Yeah, I guess.

While you're guessing, I'm running with this.

Take a look at the balloon we've made

for the Thanksgiving parade.

I don't care what people say.

My Homie makes one sexy blimp.

I need to talk to somebody.

_

Mayor Quimby?

No, just ordinary Diamond Joe.

Uh-oh, I know that look.

That's a mayor on the ropes or a wife who wants a divorce.

I'm familiar with both.

Er, uh, indeed.

Joe, is it possible to have a decent family life

and be a good political leader?

Marge, I don't want to talk about that anymore,

but I'll tell you this: retirement agrees with me.

The first night out of office,

I noticed a gorgeous woman lying next to me,

and I said, "Holy crap, I'm married to her."

Go long, boys.

Er, ah, er, ah, er, ah, er...

Marge, there's no "mayor" in marriage.

There almost is. It's really close.

But I'm afraid not.

Meet you in the boathouse later?

Oh, Marge, I want to thank you

for giving me back my Joseph.

Will you stay?

I just made a giant pitcher of gimlets,

but I can make a second one if you're staying.

No, I have to get back.

We're christening a new manhole cover on 4th Street.

So sad.

Can't you stay for a bit?

Uh, we need some help serving coffee and cake.

I swear this is the last time.

There's more where that came from!

Thank you. I couldn't be here without my husband.

He's a big supporter.

So big...

_

_

So big, I wish all of you could

know the love in his heart.

Everyone, look inside yourself

and find your Homer Simpson.

Mwah!

It's so beautiful.

We make the magic happen, baby.

_

_

_

_

_

Can we just skip that one?

I would, but you have to walk through it

to get to the cafeteria.

Oh. Okay.

_

- Sync and corrections by ByDem - - www.addic7ed.com -

www.tvsubtitles.net