Robot Rumble Announcer #2: And the winner is nature's greatest killing machine, man! [Audience boos.] Show me where in the rule book that it says a human can't be a robot.
Robot Rumble Announcer #1: Right here: Rule 1.
Moe: Telegram for Haywood U. Cuddleme. Haywood U. Cuddleme? Big guy in the back, Haywood U. Cuddleme? Oh, dude, that little! [Returning telegram] I'm gonna drive a golden spike where your Union meets your Central Pacific!
Moe: Flaming Moe's. Bart: Uh, yes, I'm looking for a friend of mine. Last name: Jass. First name: Hugh. Moe: Uh, hold on, I'll check. Uh, Hugh Jass. Somebody check the men's room for a Hugh Jass.
Hugh Jass: I'm Hugh Jass. Moe: Telephone.
Hugh Jass: Hello, this is Hugh Jass. Bart: Uh, hi.
Hugh Jass: Who's this? Bart: Bart Simpson.
Hugh Jass: Well what can I do for you, Bart? Bart: Uh, look. I'll level with you, mister. This is a crank call that sorta backfired, and I'd like to bail out right now.
Hugh Jass: Alright, better luck next time [hangs up]. What a nice young man.
Jack Bauer: Chloe, I need those schematics now. Bart: What? Who is this?
Jack Bauer: I'm Jack Bauer. Who the hell are you? Bart: Me? Uh, I'm Ahmed Adudi.
Jack Bauer: Chloe find out all you can about Ahmed Adudi. Does anyone there know Ahmed Adudi?
Chloe O'Brian: Ahmed Adudi: wealthy Saudi financier. Disappeared into Afghanistan in the late 90's.
Jack Bauer: Really?
Chloe O'Brian: No Jack, it's a joke name. You're being set up.
Jack Bauer: Dammit!
Mr. Burns: Must call Smithers. He'll protect me from this beast. I've seen people activate this machine a thousand times. Doesn't seem to be any trick to it. Let's see, Smithers [begins dialing], S-M-I-T-H-E-R-S. Success, it's ringing! Moe: Moe's Tavern.
Mr. Burns: I'm looking for a Mr. Smithers. First name: Waylon Moe: Oh, so you're looking for a Mr. Smithers, eh? First name Waylon, is it? Listen to me, you! When I catch you I'm gonna pull out your eyes and shove 'em down your pants, so you can watch me kick the crap out of you! Okay!? Then I'm gonna use your tongue to paint my boat!
Bart: May I be excused, Mom? Homer: Oh, so now you're quitting dinner too. Marge: Homer, please. Homer: I didn't raise him to be a quitter, Marge. It must have been you. You've quit every job you've had. Cop, pretzel vendor, church counselor, professional gambler. Marge: He's doing what he thinks is best. Homer: Well if quitting is the best, maybe I should just quit my job. [Picks up the phone and calls Mr. Burns.]
Mr. Burns: Ahoy-hoy. Homer: Mr. Burns, this is Homer J. Simpson. The father of the big quitter. Well I just wanted to tell you I'm a big quitter too, and I quit [winks at phone]. Marge: Homer, Mr. Burns can't see you winking. Homer: So? [Screams].
Concertgoer #1: Oh, here comes that cannonball guy. He's cool.
Concertgoer #2: Are you being sarcastic, dude?
Concertgoer #1: I don't even know anymore.
Homer: Look at these bills: chains for elephant. Shots for elephant. Over-sized decorative poncho? Bart: Technically it's for a giraffe, but I think I can let it out a little. Homer: Well these bills will have to be paid out of your allowance. Bart: You'll have to raise my allowance to about a thousand dollars a week. Homer: Then that's what I'll do, smart guy.
Tom Kite: You know Homer, the traditional way to cheat in golf is to lower your score. Homer: That's one way.
Tom Kite: Ha ha, I'm PGA Tour pro Tom Kite. How 'bout I give you a few pointers on your game? Now you don't want to overthink. Homer: Not an issue.
Tom Kite: Keep your head down. Homer: [Raises head] Huh?
Tom Kite: Pretend there's no-one else here. [Homer scratches his butt with the driver and then belches.] And just go at your own pace. [Homer hits the ball onto the green.] Wow, very impressive. You're a natural, Mr. Simpson. Homer: Really?
Tom Kite: Uh huh. All you need is your own set of clubs. [Takes his clubs back from Homer.] And stay the hell out of my locker! You can keep the shoes.
George Plimpton: Alright, your word is "whether."
Sun Moon: Which one? Can you use it in a sentence?
George Plimpton: Certainly. "I don't know whether the weather will improve."
Sun Moon: Uh, ooh, W, uh, um, E... [gets disqualified]
George Plimpton: Alex, your word is "rigged." As in, "This contest is rigged."
Alex: R-I-G-G-E-D. "Wigged."
George Plimpton: Bravo, my pet. You shall be champion, assuming Lisa misspells this next word. The word is "intransigence." Lisa: Could I please hear it in a sentence?
George Plimpton: Certainly. "The little girl's intransigence cost her the college of her choice." Lisa: "Intransigence." I... Homer: Daddy made it for your dance recital, honey! Lisa: Dad, you do care. Homer: Damn right. You're number one on my menu. Now super-size it. Lisa: With you here, I can't fail. Attention everyone. I was asked to take a dive, but I won't do it! I-N-T-R-A-N-S-I-G-A-N-C-E.
George Plimpton: You fool, it's "E-N-C-E." Lisa: Oh my god, you're right. I spelled it wrong. I tried my best and I failed.
George Plimpton: And now you lose everything. And I go back to whatever it is I do.
George Plimpton: Welcome to the games of the 34th "Spellympiad." I'm George Plimpton, founder of "The Paris Review." I also play the evil dean in "Boner Academy." Homer: You monster! Why did you expel Boogerman?
George Plimpton: He replaced my tennis racket with a rubber phallus.
Marge: Ooh, a rattle. Thank you, Selma. Moe: Yeah, great present, Selma. Nice of you to break a five. Selma: Get a neck, Frankenstein. Moe: Hey, open my present. Open my present. It's Uncle Moe's play tavern, with classic drunk Barney. Look, even the little toilet is broken. Marge: I don't know if toy drunkards are an appropriate gift for a baby. Moe: Sure they are. They even talk, look [flips switch on a Homer figurine].
Homer Figurine: I peed my pants. Homer: I recorded that for private use!
J. Jonah Jameson: Awe, that's sweet. I hate sweet. I need photos. Photos of Spider-Man!
Poetry Journal Assistant: This is a poetry journal.
J. Jonah Jameson: Okay then, poems about Spider-Man. And I want them finished before you start. And before you finish, get me some coffee. And the poems should have the following rhyme scheme: A-B-B-A-A-B-B-A-C-D-E-C-D-E. What are you waiting for, Chinese New Year?
Poetry Journal Assistant: Chief, we just got a submission from a brilliant poet no-one's ever heard of.
J. Jonah Jameson: Huh, huh, hmm. Genius. Pay him nothing and run it on the cover. [Picks up phone] Stop the presses, send my wife some flowers, and bring me an Advil. What do you mean you don't work for me? You're hired. Now that you're hired, you're fired. Now that you don't work here, we can be friends. Now that we're friends, how come you never call? Some friend you are! [Hangs up] God, I love this business.
Marge: Aren't you going to give him the Last Rites?
Reverend Lovejoy: That's Catholic, Marge. You might as well ask me to do a voodoo dance. Lisa: Dr. Hibbert, I thought you located another kidney for Grampa?
Dr. Hibbert: Larry Hagman took it. He's got five of them now, and three hearts. We didn't want to give them to him, but he overpowered us.
Kent Brockman: We're just about to get our first pictures from inside the spacecraft with average-naut Homer Simpson, and we'd like to... [an ant suddenly floats by the camera and appears to be large, Brockman and the Simpson family scream in response] Ladies and gentlemen, uh, we've just lost the picture, but, uh, what we've seen speaks for itself. The Corvair Spacecraft has apparently been taken over, conquered if you will, by a master race of giant space ants. It's difficult to tell from this vantage point whether they will consume the captive Earth men or merely enslave them. One thing is for certain: there is no stopping them, the ants will soon be here. And I for one welcome our new insect overlords. Like to remind them that as a trusted TV personality, I can be helpful in rounding up others to toil in their underground sugar caves.
Superintendent Chalmers: Well Seymour, it seems we've put together a baseball team, and I was wondering who's on first. Principal Skinner: Yes, not the pronoun, rather a player with the unlikely name of "Who" is on first. Superintendent Chalmers: Well that's just great Seymour, we've been out here six seconds, you've already managed to blow the routine!
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