Original subtitles

Honey, I'm home.

All right, next baby. Put it on the table.

O great elder, by what name do you call this child?

I decree that henceforth this child shall be called, uh...

Joshua!

Joshua! Next!

Jeez, Fran. This is so embarrassing.

He's so much older than the other kids.

How could we have forgotten to get our kid a name?

It's been a busy year, Earl.

First you had to learn the mating dance, then Mother moved in,

then the kids got that pet caveman,

then there was Robbie's howling, then Charlene's tail grew in.

Then we all went on that game show.

It seems like nearly every week...

Yes, I know, I know. But it's still no excuse.

We should've realized we were just calling him Baby all the time.

Move it!

Earl.

Oh, sorry.

O great elder,

by what name do you call this child?

Give me a good one.

I decree that henceforth

this child shall be called...

Spit it out. I'm waiting.

Augh! Augh!

Augh Augh.

I'm dying, you idiot!

I'm Dying You Idiot.

- Uhh... - Oh!

Augh Augh I'm Dying You Idiot!

Next!

This is a DNN special report.

It is a solemn day

as the nation mourns the loss of our chief elder.

Our beloved elder died almost immediately after naming this child

Augh Augh I'm Dying You Idiot Sinclair.

Jeez, Earl.

What is that, one of those new trendy names?

Within minutes of the chief elder's death,

one candidate had stepped forward

to nominate himself for the post.

42-year-old B.P. Richfield of the Wesayso Corporation,

who had this to say:

Get in here, you chunks of filth!

Ehh, he's gonna need a better slogan than that.

Now!

Whoa!

You bellowed, my captain.

As most of you inbred green-garbage probably heard,

there's going to be an election for elder,

and I've decided to run.

My delight is limited

only by my absolute terror, sir.

Unfortunately, my handlers tell me

I have a personality problem.

I can't imagine what that could be, sir.

- I'm speaking! - Right!

Apparently, the big money interests who control my party

feel I come off a bit, um, abrasive on TV.

- Oh, no. - No, no, no, no.

Fortunately, the big money interests who control my party

also control the other party,

so all I got to do is find an opposing candidate

so utterly pathetic and profoundly stupid

that I can't help but win.

The question is, which one do I choose?

This is an embarrassment of riches,

but who's the stupidest?

All right, come on. Who is it?

Hmm.

All right, the next one to say something asinine

has to run against me.

- Um... - Um...

How asinine does it have to be, sir?

Ah ha ha!

Congratulations, Sinclair. You're nominated!

Ha ha ha!

Let's do Robbie.

♪ Robbie bobbie bo bobbie ♪

♪ Banana fana fo fobbie ♪

♪ Mee my mo mobbie ♪

♪ Robbie ♪

Yeah.

Now it's my turn.

OK.

♪ Augh Augh I'm Dying You Idiot ♪

♪ Bugh bugh I'm dying you bidiot ♪

♪ Mugh mugh I'm dying you midiot ♪

♪ Idiot ♪

♪ Idiot ♪

Augh, sorry.

You know, Mom, I'm just afraid this name could be very traumatic for the baby.

Oh, lots of kids have gotten bad names from the elder

and gone on to live perfectly normal lives,

like your cousin Ah-choo.

I just remember when I was in school

the way we used to tease poor little Excuse Me Siegelman.

Children can be so cruel.

Excuse Me Siegelman.

Ha ha! What a loser!

Well, you can always apply for a new name

from the chief elder just as soon as he's elected.

Yes, Mother, but if Mr. Richfield wins the election,

I just worry what kind of world we'll leave behind

for poor little Augh Augh I'm Dying You Idiot.

Hello, hello, family of mine.

I have a bit of information that might be of interest to some of you.

Today I heard the call of civic duty

and announced my candidacy for chief elder.

Earl, you're running against Mr. Richfield?

Dad, that's really brave.

Ooh! Look, family, the news is on.

I think you'll find I'm on every channel.

- Wow! - Ooh!

Um, my name is...

Earl Sinclair.

I am running for chief elder.

In lieu of an acceptance speech,

I would like to sing you a musical selection

chosen especially for this occasion.

You're going to sing?

Yeah, it was Mr. Richfield's idea.

What?

♪ How lovely to be a woman ♪

♪ The wait was well worthwhile ♪

♪ How lovely to wear mascara ♪

♪ And smile a woman's smile ♪

Is he really doing what I think he's doing?

♪ That's round instead of flat ♪

♪ Whenever you hear boys whistle ♪

♪ You're what they're whistling at ♪

♪ It's wonderful to feel ♪

♪ The way a woman feels ♪

♪ It gives you such a glow ♪

♪ Just to know ♪

♪ You're wearing lipstick and heels...

OK, kids. Let's pack.

Hey, what do you want? That part's for a mezzo.

Earl, what kind of speech is that?

- It's the one Mr. Richfield gave me. - Mr. Richfield?

But you're running against him!

I know that. He chose me over all the other guys at work.

You mean he picked you to lose?

Of course. Son, under our system,

a guy can't just muscle his way to the top

without any opposition.

We are required by our constitution

to let the voters think they have a choice. That's democracy.

Earl, how can you live with yourself,

helping Mr. Richfield get elected?

Oh, I can live fine, Fran. I can live just like a king.

Don't have to go to work, don't have to push down trees.

All I have to do is run for elder

and lose, lose, lose.

It's morning in Pangaea,

but one dinosaur is already hard at work

finding solutions for a better tomorrow:

B.P. Richfield.

Whether running a multimillion-dollar corporation,

chopping wood like a regular guy...

Aah!

Or sharing good cheer with the simple working folk,

B.P. Richfield shows that he cares.

All the guys at work

see him as a member of the family.

He comes to my house all the time.

My wife calls him "honey." My kids call him "Daddy."

B.P. Richfield. He cares so much...

it hurts.

On tonight's news-maker interview,

B.P. Richfield talks to our own venerable,

revered senior commentator Edward R. Hero. Edward.

Thank you, Howard.

Mr. Richfield, in the last 24 hours,

your public image has undergone a radical transformation

from a savage, bloodthirsty killer

to a kinder, gentler B.P. Richfield.

Isn't this just a shameless, cynical ploy

to trick the public into loving you?

Oh, Ed. Not at all.

By the way, did you get those flowers I sent you?

Why, uh, yes, they're lovely. Thank you.

Oh, you're welcome.

Mr. Richfield,

I understand you favor heavy taxation for the poor

and no taxes at all for the rich.

That's right. I call it my trickle-down theory.

See, rich folks tend to live in big houses on the tops of hills,

and so if we give them all the money,

some of it's bound to slip out of their pockets

and roll down to where the poor folks are.

I... I see. Ahem.

Mr. Richfield, you say you want to be the education elder,

and yet, you favor the repeal of all child labor laws.

Absolutely. Children love to work.

It's like a game,

getting all dirty down in a Wesayso coal mine.

Because they're small,

you can fit more of them in a tight space.

Why, your average six-year-old

can work 18-20 hours a day without rest.

Hello? Fran? Robbie?

Charlene?

Oh. What's all this fuzzy stuff?

Oh, wait a minute.

Maybe this is a dream.

Mmm.

Oh, this is the cake dream.

Oh, that'll be the centerfold girls.

Fran?

You're not supposed to be here.

The centerfold girls aren't coming, Earl.

Oh, but this is my cake dream.

Your conscience is intruding, Earl.

You know you don't deserve the cake dream.

Come with me.

Oh, jeez!

Ah-choo!

We live out here now, Earl.

What happened to our house?

We had to sell the house to buy food.

Mr. Richfield lowered the minimum wage to two cents a day.

Mr. Richfield? You mean he was elected?

That's right, Earl.

Oh, no!

Ah-choo!

Oh, starving. Uh, give me food.

Give me money. Give me shelter.

These children living on the street are such a nuisance.

I understand they wouldn't live in a house if you gave them one.

Thanks for nothing!

How are we ever going to feed the family?

Don't worry, Dad. I got it covered.

Bless you, Son. You brought us all food.

That's not food, Dad. That's my pancreas.

I can get good money for it at the hospital.

- Rob, what's that? - My pancreas.

Dad, I'm starving. Give it to me!

Hey, cut it out! Get your own.

Robbie, I want your spleen!

Oh, Fran, how did all this happen?

This is the life you've made for us, Earl.

- You should've listened to your conscience. - Oh...

Should've listened to your conscience.

Oh...

Should've listened to your conscience.

Aah!

Earl! What is it, Earl?

Fran, I can't do it, Fran.

I can't let him win.

I've got to try and beat him.

I'm the only hope for our nation's future.

Yes. Earl Sinclair's campaign for elder

has begun to turn itself around.

After an astoundingly inane beginning,

Sinclair has put the dinosaur community on notice

that he is a candidate to be taken seriously.

He'll be speaking tonight from his modest suburban home

with our own Edward R. Hero. Edward?

Thank you, Howard. How are you tonight, Earl?

Never better, Ed. Maybe a little bit nervous.

Don't worry, Earl. Just a few simple questions.

Relax and have fun with it.

OK.

Over the last seven years,

our nation's budget deficit has grown 46%

from $220 billion to 372 billion.

At the current growth rate of 12.3% per month,

our deficit can be expected to reach a total of 436 billion

by next year.

What would you do about this disastrous situation?

Ah!

Mr. Sinclair?

Mr. Sinclair?

Uh, uh... he'll be right back.

Well...

I...

Take deep breaths, pally-boy, deep breaths.

Oh, Roy. I can't do it. I just can't.

Pull yourself together, pally-boy.

We're all counting on you. You gotta beat Mr. Richfield now.

I know, but these questions are hard.

He's gonna know I didn't study.

This was so much easier when I was trying to lose.

Easy does it there, pally-boy.

Here's a helpful hint from some of the more successful politicians.

When you're asked a tough question,

simply steer the conversation to one of three safe topics:

love of family, love of country, and puppies.

Oh, come on, Roy.

That's so condescending. It's so cynical.

I refuse to sink that low.

Mr. Sinclair, this country is presently running

a massive budget deficit,

which can only be addressed

through the unpopular step of raising taxes.

How would you deal with this politically explosive dilemma?

Thanks for asking, Ed. My family is fine.

Mr. Sinclair, I'm waiting for an answer.

Do you see higher taxes ahead or not?

Well, first there's my son Robert, the oldest boy.

He's quite a chip off the old block.

Hey, how's the team doing this year, Robbo?

- What team? - Ha ha!

And then there's little Charlene.

She's at a dance tonight.

Don't stay out too late, honey.

And then there's my darling little baby

Augh Augh I'm Dying You Idiot.

Easy, easy, easy, easy.

Who loves you, baby?

Hope you lose.

Aah! Again!

Mr. Sinclair, your family is very nice,

but will you please answer my question?

Yes, Ed, this is a great country,

and it has a great flag,

and I don't care who hears me say it.

Brr! Is it a bit chilly in here?

Mr. Sinclair, you have consistently avoided

answering my questions.

It's becoming obvious to me that you know nothing

about the substantive issues of this election.

Thank you for mentioning that, Ed.

Yes, it is true. I do adore puppies,

and here's the newest member of the Sinclair family.

We call him Checkers.

Let's take a look at our DNN instantaneous news poll.

Prior to the interview you just saw,

here's how things stood with Richfield leading Sinclair by 93 points.

After Sinclair's interview tonight,

we see that Pangaeans everywhere...

fell for it.

♪ I'm gonna run the country ♪

♪ I'm gonna run the country ♪

♪ Yes, yes, yes, oh, yes ♪

♪ I'm gonna run the country ♪

I've been thinking.

No. Not a word.

I don't want you thinking.

I don't want you thinking up some stupid reason

why me being chief elder isn't the best thing that ever happened.

Earl, I think we should listen to Robbie.

Of course you do.

What is it, dear?

With all Dad's talk about the flag and puppies,

everybody's voting for him for the wrong reasons.

Chief elder's a pretty hard job,

and maybe knowing how to win an election

is not the same thing as knowing how to run a country.

Well, there he goes.

He's done it. I was up. Now I'm down.

He has rained on my parade by throwing the truth in my face.

Earl, don't get all upset.

Robbie's given us something to think about.

Why don't we all just sleep on it?

No, if I go to sleep I'll have some kind of dream that'll ruin my life.

Earl, you need your sleep for the debate tomorrow.

Forget it, Fran.

I'm not going to sleep.

I'm going to stay right here

wide awake, eyes open, without sleeping.

No sleeping for me.

Daddy.

Hmm?

Nighty-night.

Ow!

Oh, jeez.

Doing!

Whoa! Whoa, where am I? What's going on?

Oh, no. It's that fuzzy stuff again.

All right, conscience, what's it going to be?

Welcome to the Cave of Destiny, Mr. Elder.

If you'll step this way.

Mr. Elder? You mean I won?

Whoa, this is a good dream.

Oh, look. I get my own desk. Neat-o.

Hey, what's this?

That's the red button, sir,

to launch a full-scale war against our enemies.

Only you can push it.

Oh, well. Maybe I'll push it,

and maybe I won't.

This requires your immediate attention, sir!

What is it?

Our enemies have placed strategic weapons

60 miles from our borders!

If we don't threaten to attack them,

we leave ourselves vulnerable to a first strike!

If we do attack them, it will almost certainly result

- in the complete destruction of our planet. - Where would we live?

In two hours the stock market's plunged 500 points!

They're expecting a run on the banks! What should we do?

Gee, I don't know. I could hug a puppy.

There's a little girl trapped in a well!

She needs your words of encouragement!

Uh, you're trapped in a well? Oh, that's terrible!

We need a decision right away!

The market dropped another 100 points!

Time's running out for Becky Sue!

Sir, it's 12:30. Where would you like to go for lunch?

Oh, I don't know.

I'm just an ordinary guy!

Why don't you all just leave me alone?

Oops.

Oh, no. And on my first day.

Ya-aah-aah!

Good evening. Welcome to tonight's election eve debate,

the final hurdle in the race for chief elder.

Here's your moderator,

our venerable political pundit,

the crusty and avuncular Edward R. Hero.

Thank you, Howard. We'll begin with Mr. Sinclair.

In the past year,

our nation's unemployment rate has risen to 14%.

What steps would you take to curb this disturbing trend?

Edward, let me begin by making a general statement.

I'd make a terrible elder.

It would be wrong to elect me. I'm completely incompetent.

Uh, uh, in rebuttal,

let me say I agree with him 100%.

Mr. Sinclair, do you know what you're saying?

Not usually. That's the whole point.

Are you asking your supporters to vote for Mr. Richfield?

No, no, no, no.

See, I may be a boob, but he's absolute evil.

Evil? What are you doing, you back-stabbing bucket of pus?

You are evil, and you know it.

You've told me so lots of times.

He picked me to run against him,

and told me I had to lose.

What?

Aah! Sinclair, I'll kill you!

Let me at him!

Aah!

I'll pull your head off and bowl with it!

Let me at him!

Mmm, mmm, mmm.

What an appalling display.

The voters of this nation are presented with a choice

between a monstrous, bloodthirsty psychopath

and a self-confessed brain-dead ignoramus.

What will future generations think of us

that we cannot present the public

with better alternatives than these?

Surely, somewhere there must exist a leader

with the intelligence, vision and decency

to guide our nation.

I'm Edward R. Hero. Be sure you vote tomorrow.

Good night and good luck.

The polls have just closed

and the turnout was reported to be light,

but I see the election returns are coming in.

Mom, do you think Daddy still has a chance?

Be serious. I confessed I was a boob on national television.

You could still win, Earl. Lots of boobs vote,

and they need representation, too.

And here are the final results.

We see that 40,019 voters chose Earl Sinclair.

- Yahoo! - Yeah!

What were they thinking?

And 60,304 votes for B.P. Richfield.

- Aww. - Aww.

Wait. I think that's more.

One moment.

I've just been informed

that there has been a landslide write-in vote

of 2,300,012 votes

for veteran DNN news commentator Edward R. Hero.

That's you, Edward. Any comment?

Once again, a bored and apathetic electorate has been forced to...

Huh?

Well, dress me up and call me Sally.

I'm the new elder.

Hmm, maybe the system does work, after all.

Come on, Earl. Don't be a sore loser.

I think you have something to say.

O great elder, by what name do you call this child?

I decree that henceforth this child shall be called, uh...

I'm the baby. Gotta love me.

Hmm. Baby?

Baby Sinclair. Yes, it sort of fits.

Baby Sinclair.

Baby Sinclair!

Baby? Earl, what a wonderful name!

Baby.

Baby.

Baby? I could have done this job!