Married with Children (1986–1997): Season 7, Episode 7 - The Chicago Wine Party - full transcript

Hotcha!

Another penny
closer to retirement.

Hey, Bundy, car
broken down again?

Nobody will give
you a ride, huh?

Maybe I shoulda
called your wife.

She always gives
everybody a ride.

Hey, Jim. Hey, Bundy.

Did the, uh, new copy of
Girls With Big 'Uns come in yet?

Yeah, I just think I'll, uh,

look before I purchase if, uh...

Uh...



There you go, just, uh...

I'll buy it tomorrow,
Jim. Uh-huh.

Mister, sign this petition
and save the trees.

Who cares? Hey,
mister, sign this petition

to save the world
from nuclear holocaust.

Who cares?

They're gonna raise
our beer tax two cents.

Oh, my God!

Well, this has to be stopped.

Let us give you a beer
and we'll tell you about it.

Why ask why?

Would you like to
watch our movie,

The Story of Beer?

God, would I.



Beer.

And even for people like you,

Election Day is very important.

So I'm hoping you'll put up
some of these campaign signs

outside your home.

Well, that is a
wonderful idea, Marcy.

This one could
cover the bird doody

on the front of the house.

Oh, and this is a pretty one.

We could put this on the porch

where the plaster's
coming away from the wall.

You know, where Al likes
to kick it before he comes in.

Wait a minute, Mrs. D'Arcy.

"Support toxic waste dumps"?

You'd... You'd
never vote for this.

Of course not.

I've given you posters of
the issues that I oppose.

Because if people think
the Bundys are for 'em

we know the whole neighborhood
will vote the other way.

We like to call it
"harnessing hate."

Well, anything short of
voting, we'd be glad to help.

Peggy, you really should vote.

This year we can
really make a difference.

This is the Year of the Woman.

Everyone I know is
gonna vote for a woman

regardless of her qualifications
or her stance on the issues.

Right, Jefferson?

Sure.

Actually, I wouldn't mind
having a woman as president,

especially if it was you, Marcy.

'Cause I'd make
a great first lady.

Yep, and I'd have a
big, important issue

like, uh, no littering or, uh...

Or nice hair for everyone.

You know, national
hair-care centers.

God, how cool.

Well, I think I could
do a lot of good

being in bed with the president.

And I really believe
that if anybody could,

I could make them forget
about Jackie Kennedy.

And you know I don't mind
prancing it for the voters.

And then, when you get shot...

I'd marry a rich Greek.

'Course, she'd have
to shave her legs

and under her arms,

oh, and her lip.

Then she'd die,
leave me a fortune

and I'd become an editor.

Oh, well, what
are you staring at?

Like you never thought
about being first lady?

Honey, shut up
and look beautiful.

I'll sign that bill.

Hi, Peggy.

Bud, Kelly, Jefferson,

Bud.

I just found out what's
wrong with America.

And I seem to have lost
about three hours of my day.

Uh, bought this
bunch of bananas.

Uh, kids, take those
bananas upstairs

with the tangerines Daddy
bought the last time he got whacked.

God, I hate to
see him like this.

I know. I don't like to
see him happy either.

Family, did you know

that along with an
election coming up

there's something big going on?

They're trying to sneak
by a two-cent beer tax.

Two cents.

And what really gets to me

is that the money
they're gonna raise

is gonna go for education.

Well, I'll be damned
if I'm paying two cents

for some moron to
learn how to read.

I mean, where's it gonna end?

I mean, pretty soon
they'll be taxing income.

Well, Al, it's nice to see
you care about something

besides wondering
whose back is hairier.

Yours or your dog's.

Or whose chest is hairier.

Mine or yours.

Jefferson, can I
depend on your support?

Well, I'm sorry, Al,
I don't get a ballot.

Marcy sends mine out absentee

so she's sure
what I'm voting for.

But I'm gonna be
first lady, you know.

Give 'em hell.

Come on, Marcy,
you above all people

should be concerned
about this tax.

I mean, after looking at
yourself in the mirror all day,

you must drink.

I do not drink.

I occasionally imbibe.

And only wine.

And then only with a fine meal.

Or a good cheese.

Or to enhance sex.

Or if I'm alone for 15 minutes.

But luckily, they're not trying
to increase the tax on wine.

That would be
unfair to the rich.

So wine is free, eh?

The workingman
pays for everything.

But a few French people

and a few guys
that don't like girls,

they get off for free.

Peggy, can you talk
some sense into him?

Hmph, I'm sorry, Marcy,

but I have to agree
with Al, 100 percent.

You see, if it wasn't for beer,

we probably wouldn't
even be married. Ho-ho-ho!

In fact, the only
time Al touches me

is when he's had
eight to 10 beers.

Oh, and he's an
animal. Ha-ha-ha!

Oh, God, I love it.

Would you excuse us?

Oh, Al, you were magnificent.

Honey, no, you
can't go to sleep now.

We have company, come on.

Well, I guess I can't
persuade you on the beer tax

since it brings you so
many seconds of pleasure.

But this is an
important election.

I mean, it's all gonna come
down to just a few votes,

so I need to mention
some of the other issues.

For instance, a tax that will go
towards purifying Chicago's air.

Hmph, they want me to
pay so that people like you

can breathe fresh air.

Peg, write that down. Got it.

"No" on clean air.

All right.

Well, would you consider the
plight of the speckled songbird?

To preserve its melodious tone,

we must protect this area
from further development.

So those little bastards
can sit outside my window

and sing all night and
I don't get no sleep?

Peg, write that down.

"No" to nature. Got it.

Now, Marcy, how do
these moronic issues

ever even come to the public?

Well, they're suggested
by your elected officials.

Your councilmen, your
senators, even your president.

So it goes right
to the top, huh?

Well, something has to be done.

Kids, get down here right away.

I have something very
important to tell you.

Finally. He's gonna tell me
I'm not really his daughter.

No, he's gonna tell
me I'm not his son.

But you look just like him.

That was pretty low.

I'm sorry, I went too far.

I'm really sorry.

Good luck, I hope
you're not his.

I hope you're not.

Dad, who's our real father?

Well, about a thousand
blood tests say it's me.

Now, kids, the U.S.A.
has been run too long

by people who know the issues.

People that watch the
news on TV, read books,

generally pay attention.

Well, no more.

'Cause now it's time
that we had a say

in the future of America.

Family,

the Bundys are gonna
elect a president.

The polls have been open
across the nation for six hours,

but it's now official that not
a single person in America

has yet turned out to vote.

Not only that, Bob,

but I understand

that nobody's even watching
our election coverage.

So I've been told to
do whatever it takes

to get you to tune in.

You won't see that
on F Troop, folks.

Now that I have your attention,

be aware

if any people show
up to vote today

the future of this country

is in their hands.

Voters coming through.
Make way, make way.

Voters coming through.

Family, breathe the democracy.

This is where it all happens.

Yes, in a dry cleaner like this,

they elected
Washington and Lincoln.

And at a round table,
where this volunteer sits,

they signed the
Declaration of Independence.

And from the looks of her,
she was probably there to see it.

Peg, get a picture of
me and Betsy Ross here.

All right.

Now, down to business.

I'm Bundy,

Al Bundy,

and I'm here to
serve my country.

Then please consider
a minty mouthwash.

Just give me a
ballot, you crone.

Not there, Mr. Bundy,
that's the bathroom.

That's all right, ma'am. Ha!

That's where he makes
all his big decisions.

Uh, my name is Bundy,

Peggy Bundy.

And I would strongly
advise you to learn the lesson

that my Uncle Harold
learned the hard way.

If you're wearing a pacemaker,

do not follow him
into the bathroom.

What's your name? Kelly.

Oh, you should be in the K's.

Oh, thank you.

Name? Bundy.

Oh, you should be in the B's.

Oh, thank you.

Your name? Kelly.

Then you should be in the K's.

They don't want me over there.

Your name, please.
Bundy, Bud Bundy.

Is this your first time?

What, are you kidding?

Why does everyone look at
me and just assume I'm a virgin?

'Cause I'm not.

Could a virgin tell you the
name and last book read

by every Playboy centerfold
in the last 10 years?

I've been there and back, baby.

I know the female body
like I know my own hand.

I mean, the back of my hand.

"Bud, oh, Bud," they scream.

Why, once, I even took a girl...

Sir, I just meant

is this the first
time you're voting?

Oh.

I guess that's something I
can admit to. Yes, yes it is.

Tell me, where do I go
and what do I do with it?

I bet that isn't the first
time you asked that.

I know what you're doing.

You're trying to tear me
down 'cause you want me.

All girls do that.

I know you're twitching
under your girdle.

Well, dream on, Methuselah.

What's your name?

Oh, honey, it's okay.

Here, take a ballot.

Hell, this is Chicago, take two.

Hey,

is it yellow in
everybody's booth?

Oops, never mind,
just had hair in my eyes.

Excuse me. Ha-ha-ha!

Sorry, kids, I just have
to ask Daddy a question.

Oops.

Hey, woman, what
are you doing in here?

This is sacred.

Hey, no, Peg, that's sacred too.

Take me, Al.

Right here with the fate of
democracy in your hands.

And now for the election news.

Good news for those
who think Americans

no longer care about
the electoral process.

In the largest turnout in the
last three national elections,

a full one half of 1 percent
of all registered voters

actually did vote.

Give 'em hell, America.

Now let's look at
some local returns.

The beer tax passed,
25,000 to 10,000.

And the closest race,

the so-called Save the
Earth Clean Air Amendment,

passed by a
vote of five to four.

And now we're gonna
hear from our president-elect

as we take you live
to his campaign head...

Incredible. We lost everything.

Not one single thing
we wanted passed.

I guess Bundys don't count.

Or add, nor read.

Or get a woman. Or a man.

What a waste of a day.

It's all Dad's fault.

I mean, he made us part
of the electrical process.

Once again we learned
that we mean nothing.

Hmph!

Well, at least we tried.

And failed as usual.

Kid's right. Give up. We did.

No, we can't quit.

You saying we try
again next year?

No.

Tell you the truth,
I'm never voting again.

Like marriage, no matter who
you choose it turns out bad.

Unless you're rich.

They get everything
they want... Well, fine.

Let them have their birds
and their air and their...

Even their presidents.

But we cared about beer,
and they took it away from us.

Yeah, sure, what do they care

if a man who sells
shoes or fixes cars

or totes that barge

or spears that doody in the park

has to use his whole
paycheck to buy one beer?

What do they care?

They're at their
outdoor restaurants

eating their little pizzas

and drinking some fine
wine in a no-smoking section

with their sexy,
skinny second wives

while we're breeding
with peasant stock.

No offence, Peg.

One thing I know,

we're never going to
win through the system.

Voting has never
been the American way.

We didn't get away from that
pansy country England by voting.

We did it by throwing
their stinking tea

in our American harbor.

And why?

Because Americans
don't like tea.

We like coffee.

And Americans don't like wine.

We like beer.

Yeah. Ice cold.

Ice cold, best in a bottle,
but fine anyway you can get it,

belching, burping,
wake-up-in-a-pool-of-it beer.

So let's show 'em
how a beer man votes.

Let's get blitzed and
take it to the streets.

Let's strike a blow

anywhere they dine alfresco,

anywhere they eat Brie cheese

and anywhere they
wear their pants

up high around their
waist in the European way.

The only thing that
Americans understand

is mindless Tom and
Jerry cartoon-like violence.

So let's go kick
some elite butt.

Give me beer,

or give me death!

Or both.

Let's pillage.

And in the biggest
election-related story,

people are being
urged to eat at home

or at a rib joint.

Whatever you do, stay
away from any restaurant

that starts with "Chez."

Frenchmen, as if
they had to be told,

should stay at home.

An angry mob led by a
balding madman screaming:

"I sell shoes, damn it,
and I'm stinking drunk"

has run amuck,

and they've turned the
streets white with foam.

Beer forever.

Mmm. Woo-hoo!

Oh, that's lovely. Thank you.

Anyway, the 2 percent beer tax

that was overwhelmingly voted in

is being reconsidered in
a special midnight session

of a cowering city council.

Well...

it looks like the little man
finally might have won one.

You know, it's amazing.

I feel more like an American
now than ever before.

By the way, does anyone
know who was elected president?

Ah, what's the difference?

But whoever you are,

read my lips.

Don't tax beer.