The Simpsons (1989–…): Season 1, Episode 2 - Bart the Genius - full transcript
Bart ends up at a school for gifted children after cheating on an IQ test.
Come on, Mom.
Yeah, Mom.
Hurry up.
All right. Mmm.
How about "he"?
Two points.
Your turn, dear.
Hmm. How could anyone make a word
out of these lousy letters?
Oh, wait.
Here's a good one." Do."
"Id."
Triple word score.
- Hey, no abbreviations.
- Not I.D., Dad."Id." It's a word.
- As in,"This game is stup-id."
- Hey, shut up, boy.
Yeah, Bart. You're supposed to be
developing verbal abilities...
for your big aptitude test
tomorrow.
We could look this "id" thing
up in the dictionary.
- We got one?
- I think it's under
the short leg of the couch.
"Id: Along with the ego
and the superego...
one of three components
of the psyche."
- Get outta here.
- My turn." Kwyjibo."
K-W-Y-J-I-B-O.
Twenty-two points,
plus triple word score...
plus 50 points for using
all my letters.
- Game's over. I'm outta here.
- Wait a minute, you little cheater.
You're not going anywhere
until you tell me what a "kwyjibo" is.
" Kwyjibo." Uh--
A big, dumb, balding,
North American ape with no chin.
- And a short temper.
- I'll show you a big,
dumb, balding ape!
Uh-oh.
Kwyjibo on the loose.
We come from Springfield
and we sell swampland
you there. No chewing gum on school
grounds. In the trashcan with it.
Principal Skinner...
one of my fellow children
is vandalizing school property.
Oh? Where?
Over there, sir.
See?
- Look out, Bart. Here comes Skinner.
- Yikes!
Hmm.
- Whoever did this
is in very deep trouble.
And a sloppy speller too.
The preferred spelling
of"wiener" is w-i-e-n-e-r...
although "e-i"
is an acceptable ethnic variant.
Good point.
Boys, let's see your hands.
Mm-hmm.
Good. Okay.
Simpson?
you might say you
caught him red-handed.
Simpson, you and I
are going to have a little talk.
Same time, same place?
Yes. In my office
after school.
Ooh!
Bart, I hope you won't bear some sort
of simpleminded grudge against me.
I was merely tying to fend off
the desecration of the school building.
- Eat my shorts.
- Pardon?
Now, I don't want you
to wory, class.
These tests will have
no effect on your grades.
They merely determine your future social
status and financial success. If any.
Mrs. Krabappel, isn't Bart
supposed to face the window...
so he won't be tempted to look
at his neighbor's paper?
- You're right, Martin. Bart?
Remember to visualize
the complex problems, and relax.
The test will start... now!
"At 7:30 a. m., an express train
traveling 60 miles an hour...
leaves Santa Fe bound for Phoenix,
520 miles away."
Shh!
Visualizeit, Bart.
"At the same time, a local train
traveling 30 miles an hour...
and carrying 40 passengers
leaves Phoenix bound for Santa Fe.
It's eight cars long and
always carries the same number
of passengers in each car.
An hour later,
a number of passengers...
equal to half the number of minutes
past the hour get off...
but three times as many
plus six get on.
At the second stop,
half the passengers plus two get off...
but twice as many
get on as got on at the first stop."
Oof!.
- Ticket, please.
- I don't have a ticket.
Come with me, boy.
- We've got a stowaway, sir.
- I'll pay. How much?
Twice the fare
from Tucson to Flagstaff...
minus two-thirds of the fare from
Albuquerque to El Paso.
- Whoa!
Bart, there are students
in this class with a chance to do well.
Will you stop
bothering them?
He's not bothering me,
Mrs. Krabappel. I'm finished.
May I go outside
and read under a tree?
Certainly, Martin.
What are you
looking at, Bart?
Are those naughty dogs
back again?
you have 20 minutes, class.
He's a good boy now,
and he's getting better...
and sometimes even the best sheep
stray from the flock...
and need to be hugged
extra hard.
That's exactly the kind of crapola
that's lousing him up.
Hey, look at this.
"I am a wiener."
He sure is.
- Mr. and Mrs. Simpson are here.
Send them in.
- Hello again.
- What have you done this time, boy?
I caught your son
defacing school property this morning.
We estimate the damage
at $75, and frankly...
we think it's terribly unfair that
other taxpayers should foot the bill.
Yeah, it's a crummy system,
but what are you gonna do?
Oh, no.
He can't mean that.
My wife thinks
you want me to pay for it.
- That was the idea.
- Oh.
By itself, something like this might
not call for an extreme penalty...
but this is not
an isolated incident.
Bart's behavior is unruly.
He's frequently absent
from school, then gives teachers
pathetic excusenotes...
that are obviously childish forgeries
when compared to--
Well, at any rate,
it is my reluctant decision--
- Mr. Skinner, Dr. Pyor
is here to see you.
- He says it's urgent.
- Send him in.
Mr. and Mrs. Simpson,
this is our district psychiatrist,
Dr. J.Loren Pryor.
What do we need a psychiatrist for?
We know our kid is nuts.
Oh, on the contray. I have some
vey exciting news for all of us.
This aptitude test
we administered this morning...
has revealed that the young Bart here
is what we call a "gifted child."
- A what?
- Your son is a genius, Mr. Simpson.
- Bart?
- This lunkhead?
- Impossible.
No, no,
we're quite certain.
The child is not supposed
to know his own IQ, of course...
but, uh, you can see
it's beyond the range of any doubt.
- 912!
- Uh, no, you have it
upside down. It's 216.
- Oh.
- That's still amazingly high.
Tell me, Bart,
are you ever bored in school?
- Oh, you bet.
- Mm-hmm.
Ever feel a little frustrated?
- All the time, sir.
- Uh-huh.
Do you ever dream
of leaving your class...
to pursue your own intellectual
development on an independent basis?
- Wow! It's like you're
reading my mind, man.
- Uh-huh.
you see, when a child
with Bart's intellect...
is forced to slow down
to the pace of a normal person...
he's probably going to lash out
in ways like these.
I think we should retest him.
- We should move him to another school.
- Ooh. Better yet.
Bart, we'd like you
to try a kind of school...
that doesn't rely on grades and rules
and bells and buzzers.
A school without walls...
where you do as much or as little of
the assignments as you feel you need to.
- Does that sound good, Bart?
- Sign me up, Doc.
Excellent. We're all set.
Here's all the information you need.
Show up around nine-ish.
Mr. and Mrs. Simpson,
congratulations once again.
I think we're all
in a mood to celebrate.
Doc, this is all too much. I mean,
my son a genius? How does it happen?
Genius-level intelligence is usually
the result of heredity and environment.
Although, in some cases,
it's a total mystery.
Aw, come on, Mom.
you look vey
intelligent, dear.
No way!
How about a tie, son? Eveybody knows
boy geniuses wear ties.
You're stifling
my creativity, Dad.
- Sorry, boy.
- Bart, this is a big day for you.
Why don't you eat something
a little more nutritious?
Nonsense, Marge. Frosty Krusty Flakes
are what got him where he is today.
It could be one of these chemicals here
that makes him so smart.
Lisa, maybe you should
try some of this.
- Homer!
- I'm just saying why not have
two geniuses in the family?
Sort of a spare in case
Bart's brain blows up.
I don't care what that stupid
test says, Bart. You're a dimwit.
Maybe so,
but from now on...
this dimwit
is on easy street.
- No rush, Dad. Take the scenic route.
- Gotcha.
Oh, no. Ties.
Don't worry, son.
you can have mine.
Here. Let me show you
how to put on a tie.
The hook goes over the top
and these things go in there.
Thanks, Dad.
you kissed me.
There's nothing wrong with a father
kissing his son. I think.
Now go on, boy,
and pay attention.
Because if you do, one day
you may achieve something...
that we Simpsons
have dreamed about for generations.
you may outsmart someone.
You must be Bart Simpson.
I'm Ms. Melon,
your learning coordinator.
Let me say right at the start
that we have one rule here:
Make your own rules.
If you feel sleepy,
take a nap.
If you get bored, feel free
to take out a book and start reading.
- What should I read, ma'am?
- Anything you want, Bart.
Oh!
A comic book?
How did this
get mixed in here?
We used it last week as a prop
in a film we made about illiteracy.
Bart, these are the students
who will share your work area.
This is Ethan Foley.
O Memsahib, Bart.
Rabbi has memo.
- What?
- Ethan's very good with palindromes.
you know, sentences spelled
the same backwards and forwards.
And this is Sidney Swift.
- Trabing norm doog.
- What's your problem?
Oh, don't mind Sidney.
He's just speaking
in backwards phonetics today.
He said,
"Good morning, Bart."
- And this is Cecile Shapiro.
- Hi, Bart.
Cool hamsters.
What are their names?
Hamster Number One has been infected
with a staphylococci virus.
Hamster NumberTwo
is the control hamster.
Hi, little control hamster.
I wouldn't get too attached.
We're dissecting him next week.
Discover your desks, people.
Now let's all welcome
the newest member...
of our collective experience,
Bart Simpson.
And now we can continue
our debate from yesterday.
When we left off,
Calvin and Tanya were arguing...
that free will
is an illusion.
If you ask me,
humankind has freedom...
a freedom fraught
with paradoxes.
Freud shows how childhood
shapes our subconscious mind...
but this helps us
to think for ourselves.
Very good, Ian.
Does anyone else
have an example of a paradox?
Without law and order,
man has no freedom.
If you want peace,
you must prepare for war.
Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.
Well, it seems
the smartest child in the class...
is also the quietest.
Bart, what other paradoxes
affect our lives?
Well... you're
damned if you do...
and you're damned
if you don't.
Well, I guess that
would be a paradox too.
Thank you, Bart.
Whew!
Tell you what, Bart. I'll trade you
the weight of a bowling ball...
on the eighth moon
of Jupiter from my lunch...
for the weight of a feather on the
second moon of Neptune from your lunch.
- Well, okay.
- There you go!
I'll trade you1,000 picoliters
of my milk for 4 gills of yours.
- Well, all right.
- Anything you say.
Uh, Bart, would you wager
your cupcake against my--
Save your breath.
What do you think
of the new kid?
A rather mediocre genius.
Yes, not vey bright at all.
- So, how was it?
- Os-os.
- What?
- That's backwards for so-so.
- Wow.
What are you reading there?
Comic books?
Uh, guess you don't want
to overheat the old noggin, eh?
Tell you what.
To celebrate your first day
of genius school...
what do you say we go out for a round
off rosty chocolate milkshakes?
All righty!
Bart, I feel so bad for going
so many years without...
mmm, hmm--
What's that word where you
encourage something to grow?
- Nurturing.
- Nurturing your brilliant brain...
so I got tickets
to the opera tonight.
Hurry up. Get dressed.
It starts at 8:00.
Oh, Mom.
Not tonight.
Bart, your mother's only tying to help,
so go ahead and enjoy the show.
- Homer, you're going too.
- But I'm not a genius.
Why should I suffer?
Hey, Lis, keep an eye out
for the guy with the peanuts.
There's no guy
with peanuts, dear.
- Geez. No beer. No opera dogs.
- Shh!
Toreador, oh,
don't spit on the floor
Please use the cuspidor
That's what it's for
- Bart, stop fooling around.
Homer, stop encouraging him.
Don't stifle the boy, Marge.
- We're supposed to encourage him.
- Shush!
Shh!
- Who's the lard butt?
-He's the bullfighter.
No way a bull's gonna miss
a target that big, man.
Who are those people?
P.U.When is this over?
It ain't over
till the fat lady sings.
Is that one fat enough
for you, son?
Let's go get a burger.
So,"Y" equals
" R" cubed over three.
And if you determine the rate of change
in this curve correctly...
I think you will be
pleasantly surprised.
Don't you get it, Bart?
Derivative D-Y equals three R squared...
D R over three, or R squared D R,
or R D R R.
Har-dee-har-har.
Get it?
Oh, yeah.
Hi, guys.
Great to see ya.
- Get lost, Poindexter.
- Yeah, beat it, Professor.
Why don't you go build
a rocket ship, brainiac?
Well, come on, you two.
Don't forget about the film festival.
- The what?
- Oh, sorry, Bart.
Your mother bought us tickets
to a snooty movie...
directed by
some Swedish meatball.
Oh, no.
Well, I guess we don't
have to do that.
Um, look, Dad.
I got something to tell you.
Can it wait, son?
It's getting kinda dark.
All right, Homer.
Come on, baby.
- Right across the plate.
Let me feel the wind.
Whoa! Strike two!
Two and two.
Can you still
see the ball, Bart?
Don't worry, Home boy.
You're not that fast.
Oh, you don't
think so, eh?
Well, here comes
some real heat.
Whoa! Yeah, strike three!
You're outta there!
- So, what was it you
wanted to tell me, son?
- Oh, nothing, Pop.
I'm still trying
to get you a labpartner, Bart.
If we don't get any volunteers soon,
I'll assign somebody.
Say, what's that?
It looks dangerous.
Well, it's really pretty
top secret, ma'am.
All right, keep going.
But you do know what happens
when you mix acids and bases, right?
- 'Course I do.
- Sorry.
Now, Bart, we want to emphasize
that nobody's angry about this.
We're--
We're just concerned.
When a young man with a 216 IQ
can't make a simple experiment work...
well, it doesn't take a Bart Simpson
to figure out that something's wrong.
Tell me. Is the class
moving too slowly for you?
- Lord, no.
- Well, then, what can
we do to make you happy?
I wanna go back
to my old class.
Oh, but, Bart,
don't you remember the boredom...
the ennui,
the intellectual malaise?
Yeah, well, you know,
kinda, um...
but I was thinking
I could go undercover.
Undercover?
Bart, I'm intrigued. Go on.
Well, I could pretend
I'm a regular dumb kid.
you know, to study them and all
the stuff they do with each other.
you know, see what
makes them tick.
I see. Like Jane Goodall
and the chimps.
- Yeah.
- Uh-huh. This is most impressive, Bart.
you write up your proposal
while I talk to Principal Skinner.
- Proposal?
- you know, outline your project...
what you hope to achieve,
what you'll require to do it.
Gotcha, man.
"'My proposal' by Bart Simpson.
I want to pretend...
I am a regular dumb kid.
Period.
By this, I hope--"
Oh, no.
" For this, I will--"
Ohh." Require--"
Ohh. Oh, man.
"'My Confession'
by Bart Simpson.
I am a regular
dumb kid. Period.
I cheated on
my intelligence test. Period."
Ah, finished already?
Principal Skinner will be
vey interested to-- to--
Oh. You know...
you misspelled "confession."
Hey, lookin' good, Bart.
- Bart, what happened?
- I had a little accident
in chemisty today.
Well, I bet it's nothing a little
turpentine won't take off. Come on, son.
Don't be discouraged, son.
I bet Einstein turned himself
all sorts of colors...
before he invented
the lightbulb.
Dad, I gotta tell you something.
Hope you won't be too mad.
- What is it, son?
- I'm not a genius, Dad.
- What?
- I cheated on the intelligence test.
I'm sorry. Butl
just want to say...
that the past few weeks
have been great.
Me and you have
done stuff together.
You've helped me out
with things...
and we're closer
than we've ever been.
I love you, Dad.
And I think if something
can bring us that close...
it can't possibly be bad.
- Why, you little--
- Uh-oh.
- What's going on out there?
I think Bart's
stupid again, Mom.
Oh, well.
you can't stay
in there forever!
- I can ty.
- March your butt right out here, now!
- No way, man.
- But-- Son, if you don't come out...
I can't hug you and kiss you
and make you feel all better.
you think I'm dumb enough
to fall for that? I'm insulted.
Shh!
Yeah, Mom.
Hurry up.
All right. Mmm.
How about "he"?
Two points.
Your turn, dear.
Hmm. How could anyone make a word
out of these lousy letters?
Oh, wait.
Here's a good one." Do."
"Id."
Triple word score.
- Hey, no abbreviations.
- Not I.D., Dad."Id." It's a word.
- As in,"This game is stup-id."
- Hey, shut up, boy.
Yeah, Bart. You're supposed to be
developing verbal abilities...
for your big aptitude test
tomorrow.
We could look this "id" thing
up in the dictionary.
- We got one?
- I think it's under
the short leg of the couch.
"Id: Along with the ego
and the superego...
one of three components
of the psyche."
- Get outta here.
- My turn." Kwyjibo."
K-W-Y-J-I-B-O.
Twenty-two points,
plus triple word score...
plus 50 points for using
all my letters.
- Game's over. I'm outta here.
- Wait a minute, you little cheater.
You're not going anywhere
until you tell me what a "kwyjibo" is.
" Kwyjibo." Uh--
A big, dumb, balding,
North American ape with no chin.
- And a short temper.
- I'll show you a big,
dumb, balding ape!
Uh-oh.
Kwyjibo on the loose.
We come from Springfield
and we sell swampland
you there. No chewing gum on school
grounds. In the trashcan with it.
Principal Skinner...
one of my fellow children
is vandalizing school property.
Oh? Where?
Over there, sir.
See?
- Look out, Bart. Here comes Skinner.
- Yikes!
Hmm.
- Whoever did this
is in very deep trouble.
And a sloppy speller too.
The preferred spelling
of"wiener" is w-i-e-n-e-r...
although "e-i"
is an acceptable ethnic variant.
Good point.
Boys, let's see your hands.
Mm-hmm.
Good. Okay.
Simpson?
you might say you
caught him red-handed.
Simpson, you and I
are going to have a little talk.
Same time, same place?
Yes. In my office
after school.
Ooh!
Bart, I hope you won't bear some sort
of simpleminded grudge against me.
I was merely tying to fend off
the desecration of the school building.
- Eat my shorts.
- Pardon?
Now, I don't want you
to wory, class.
These tests will have
no effect on your grades.
They merely determine your future social
status and financial success. If any.
Mrs. Krabappel, isn't Bart
supposed to face the window...
so he won't be tempted to look
at his neighbor's paper?
- You're right, Martin. Bart?
Remember to visualize
the complex problems, and relax.
The test will start... now!
"At 7:30 a. m., an express train
traveling 60 miles an hour...
leaves Santa Fe bound for Phoenix,
520 miles away."
Shh!
Visualizeit, Bart.
"At the same time, a local train
traveling 30 miles an hour...
and carrying 40 passengers
leaves Phoenix bound for Santa Fe.
It's eight cars long and
always carries the same number
of passengers in each car.
An hour later,
a number of passengers...
equal to half the number of minutes
past the hour get off...
but three times as many
plus six get on.
At the second stop,
half the passengers plus two get off...
but twice as many
get on as got on at the first stop."
Oof!.
- Ticket, please.
- I don't have a ticket.
Come with me, boy.
- We've got a stowaway, sir.
- I'll pay. How much?
Twice the fare
from Tucson to Flagstaff...
minus two-thirds of the fare from
Albuquerque to El Paso.
- Whoa!
Bart, there are students
in this class with a chance to do well.
Will you stop
bothering them?
He's not bothering me,
Mrs. Krabappel. I'm finished.
May I go outside
and read under a tree?
Certainly, Martin.
What are you
looking at, Bart?
Are those naughty dogs
back again?
you have 20 minutes, class.
He's a good boy now,
and he's getting better...
and sometimes even the best sheep
stray from the flock...
and need to be hugged
extra hard.
That's exactly the kind of crapola
that's lousing him up.
Hey, look at this.
"I am a wiener."
He sure is.
- Mr. and Mrs. Simpson are here.
Send them in.
- Hello again.
- What have you done this time, boy?
I caught your son
defacing school property this morning.
We estimate the damage
at $75, and frankly...
we think it's terribly unfair that
other taxpayers should foot the bill.
Yeah, it's a crummy system,
but what are you gonna do?
Oh, no.
He can't mean that.
My wife thinks
you want me to pay for it.
- That was the idea.
- Oh.
By itself, something like this might
not call for an extreme penalty...
but this is not
an isolated incident.
Bart's behavior is unruly.
He's frequently absent
from school, then gives teachers
pathetic excusenotes...
that are obviously childish forgeries
when compared to--
Well, at any rate,
it is my reluctant decision--
- Mr. Skinner, Dr. Pyor
is here to see you.
- He says it's urgent.
- Send him in.
Mr. and Mrs. Simpson,
this is our district psychiatrist,
Dr. J.Loren Pryor.
What do we need a psychiatrist for?
We know our kid is nuts.
Oh, on the contray. I have some
vey exciting news for all of us.
This aptitude test
we administered this morning...
has revealed that the young Bart here
is what we call a "gifted child."
- A what?
- Your son is a genius, Mr. Simpson.
- Bart?
- This lunkhead?
- Impossible.
No, no,
we're quite certain.
The child is not supposed
to know his own IQ, of course...
but, uh, you can see
it's beyond the range of any doubt.
- 912!
- Uh, no, you have it
upside down. It's 216.
- Oh.
- That's still amazingly high.
Tell me, Bart,
are you ever bored in school?
- Oh, you bet.
- Mm-hmm.
Ever feel a little frustrated?
- All the time, sir.
- Uh-huh.
Do you ever dream
of leaving your class...
to pursue your own intellectual
development on an independent basis?
- Wow! It's like you're
reading my mind, man.
- Uh-huh.
you see, when a child
with Bart's intellect...
is forced to slow down
to the pace of a normal person...
he's probably going to lash out
in ways like these.
I think we should retest him.
- We should move him to another school.
- Ooh. Better yet.
Bart, we'd like you
to try a kind of school...
that doesn't rely on grades and rules
and bells and buzzers.
A school without walls...
where you do as much or as little of
the assignments as you feel you need to.
- Does that sound good, Bart?
- Sign me up, Doc.
Excellent. We're all set.
Here's all the information you need.
Show up around nine-ish.
Mr. and Mrs. Simpson,
congratulations once again.
I think we're all
in a mood to celebrate.
Doc, this is all too much. I mean,
my son a genius? How does it happen?
Genius-level intelligence is usually
the result of heredity and environment.
Although, in some cases,
it's a total mystery.
Aw, come on, Mom.
you look vey
intelligent, dear.
No way!
How about a tie, son? Eveybody knows
boy geniuses wear ties.
You're stifling
my creativity, Dad.
- Sorry, boy.
- Bart, this is a big day for you.
Why don't you eat something
a little more nutritious?
Nonsense, Marge. Frosty Krusty Flakes
are what got him where he is today.
It could be one of these chemicals here
that makes him so smart.
Lisa, maybe you should
try some of this.
- Homer!
- I'm just saying why not have
two geniuses in the family?
Sort of a spare in case
Bart's brain blows up.
I don't care what that stupid
test says, Bart. You're a dimwit.
Maybe so,
but from now on...
this dimwit
is on easy street.
- No rush, Dad. Take the scenic route.
- Gotcha.
Oh, no. Ties.
Don't worry, son.
you can have mine.
Here. Let me show you
how to put on a tie.
The hook goes over the top
and these things go in there.
Thanks, Dad.
you kissed me.
There's nothing wrong with a father
kissing his son. I think.
Now go on, boy,
and pay attention.
Because if you do, one day
you may achieve something...
that we Simpsons
have dreamed about for generations.
you may outsmart someone.
You must be Bart Simpson.
I'm Ms. Melon,
your learning coordinator.
Let me say right at the start
that we have one rule here:
Make your own rules.
If you feel sleepy,
take a nap.
If you get bored, feel free
to take out a book and start reading.
- What should I read, ma'am?
- Anything you want, Bart.
Oh!
A comic book?
How did this
get mixed in here?
We used it last week as a prop
in a film we made about illiteracy.
Bart, these are the students
who will share your work area.
This is Ethan Foley.
O Memsahib, Bart.
Rabbi has memo.
- What?
- Ethan's very good with palindromes.
you know, sentences spelled
the same backwards and forwards.
And this is Sidney Swift.
- Trabing norm doog.
- What's your problem?
Oh, don't mind Sidney.
He's just speaking
in backwards phonetics today.
He said,
"Good morning, Bart."
- And this is Cecile Shapiro.
- Hi, Bart.
Cool hamsters.
What are their names?
Hamster Number One has been infected
with a staphylococci virus.
Hamster NumberTwo
is the control hamster.
Hi, little control hamster.
I wouldn't get too attached.
We're dissecting him next week.
Discover your desks, people.
Now let's all welcome
the newest member...
of our collective experience,
Bart Simpson.
And now we can continue
our debate from yesterday.
When we left off,
Calvin and Tanya were arguing...
that free will
is an illusion.
If you ask me,
humankind has freedom...
a freedom fraught
with paradoxes.
Freud shows how childhood
shapes our subconscious mind...
but this helps us
to think for ourselves.
Very good, Ian.
Does anyone else
have an example of a paradox?
Without law and order,
man has no freedom.
If you want peace,
you must prepare for war.
Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.
Well, it seems
the smartest child in the class...
is also the quietest.
Bart, what other paradoxes
affect our lives?
Well... you're
damned if you do...
and you're damned
if you don't.
Well, I guess that
would be a paradox too.
Thank you, Bart.
Whew!
Tell you what, Bart. I'll trade you
the weight of a bowling ball...
on the eighth moon
of Jupiter from my lunch...
for the weight of a feather on the
second moon of Neptune from your lunch.
- Well, okay.
- There you go!
I'll trade you1,000 picoliters
of my milk for 4 gills of yours.
- Well, all right.
- Anything you say.
Uh, Bart, would you wager
your cupcake against my--
Save your breath.
What do you think
of the new kid?
A rather mediocre genius.
Yes, not vey bright at all.
- So, how was it?
- Os-os.
- What?
- That's backwards for so-so.
- Wow.
What are you reading there?
Comic books?
Uh, guess you don't want
to overheat the old noggin, eh?
Tell you what.
To celebrate your first day
of genius school...
what do you say we go out for a round
off rosty chocolate milkshakes?
All righty!
Bart, I feel so bad for going
so many years without...
mmm, hmm--
What's that word where you
encourage something to grow?
- Nurturing.
- Nurturing your brilliant brain...
so I got tickets
to the opera tonight.
Hurry up. Get dressed.
It starts at 8:00.
Oh, Mom.
Not tonight.
Bart, your mother's only tying to help,
so go ahead and enjoy the show.
- Homer, you're going too.
- But I'm not a genius.
Why should I suffer?
Hey, Lis, keep an eye out
for the guy with the peanuts.
There's no guy
with peanuts, dear.
- Geez. No beer. No opera dogs.
- Shh!
Toreador, oh,
don't spit on the floor
Please use the cuspidor
That's what it's for
- Bart, stop fooling around.
Homer, stop encouraging him.
Don't stifle the boy, Marge.
- We're supposed to encourage him.
- Shush!
Shh!
- Who's the lard butt?
-He's the bullfighter.
No way a bull's gonna miss
a target that big, man.
Who are those people?
P.U.When is this over?
It ain't over
till the fat lady sings.
Is that one fat enough
for you, son?
Let's go get a burger.
So,"Y" equals
" R" cubed over three.
And if you determine the rate of change
in this curve correctly...
I think you will be
pleasantly surprised.
Don't you get it, Bart?
Derivative D-Y equals three R squared...
D R over three, or R squared D R,
or R D R R.
Har-dee-har-har.
Get it?
Oh, yeah.
Hi, guys.
Great to see ya.
- Get lost, Poindexter.
- Yeah, beat it, Professor.
Why don't you go build
a rocket ship, brainiac?
Well, come on, you two.
Don't forget about the film festival.
- The what?
- Oh, sorry, Bart.
Your mother bought us tickets
to a snooty movie...
directed by
some Swedish meatball.
Oh, no.
Well, I guess we don't
have to do that.
Um, look, Dad.
I got something to tell you.
Can it wait, son?
It's getting kinda dark.
All right, Homer.
Come on, baby.
- Right across the plate.
Let me feel the wind.
Whoa! Strike two!
Two and two.
Can you still
see the ball, Bart?
Don't worry, Home boy.
You're not that fast.
Oh, you don't
think so, eh?
Well, here comes
some real heat.
Whoa! Yeah, strike three!
You're outta there!
- So, what was it you
wanted to tell me, son?
- Oh, nothing, Pop.
I'm still trying
to get you a labpartner, Bart.
If we don't get any volunteers soon,
I'll assign somebody.
Say, what's that?
It looks dangerous.
Well, it's really pretty
top secret, ma'am.
All right, keep going.
But you do know what happens
when you mix acids and bases, right?
- 'Course I do.
- Sorry.
Now, Bart, we want to emphasize
that nobody's angry about this.
We're--
We're just concerned.
When a young man with a 216 IQ
can't make a simple experiment work...
well, it doesn't take a Bart Simpson
to figure out that something's wrong.
Tell me. Is the class
moving too slowly for you?
- Lord, no.
- Well, then, what can
we do to make you happy?
I wanna go back
to my old class.
Oh, but, Bart,
don't you remember the boredom...
the ennui,
the intellectual malaise?
Yeah, well, you know,
kinda, um...
but I was thinking
I could go undercover.
Undercover?
Bart, I'm intrigued. Go on.
Well, I could pretend
I'm a regular dumb kid.
you know, to study them and all
the stuff they do with each other.
you know, see what
makes them tick.
I see. Like Jane Goodall
and the chimps.
- Yeah.
- Uh-huh. This is most impressive, Bart.
you write up your proposal
while I talk to Principal Skinner.
- Proposal?
- you know, outline your project...
what you hope to achieve,
what you'll require to do it.
Gotcha, man.
"'My proposal' by Bart Simpson.
I want to pretend...
I am a regular dumb kid.
Period.
By this, I hope--"
Oh, no.
" For this, I will--"
Ohh." Require--"
Ohh. Oh, man.
"'My Confession'
by Bart Simpson.
I am a regular
dumb kid. Period.
I cheated on
my intelligence test. Period."
Ah, finished already?
Principal Skinner will be
vey interested to-- to--
Oh. You know...
you misspelled "confession."
Hey, lookin' good, Bart.
- Bart, what happened?
- I had a little accident
in chemisty today.
Well, I bet it's nothing a little
turpentine won't take off. Come on, son.
Don't be discouraged, son.
I bet Einstein turned himself
all sorts of colors...
before he invented
the lightbulb.
Dad, I gotta tell you something.
Hope you won't be too mad.
- What is it, son?
- I'm not a genius, Dad.
- What?
- I cheated on the intelligence test.
I'm sorry. Butl
just want to say...
that the past few weeks
have been great.
Me and you have
done stuff together.
You've helped me out
with things...
and we're closer
than we've ever been.
I love you, Dad.
And I think if something
can bring us that close...
it can't possibly be bad.
- Why, you little--
- Uh-oh.
- What's going on out there?
I think Bart's
stupid again, Mom.
Oh, well.
you can't stay
in there forever!
- I can ty.
- March your butt right out here, now!
- No way, man.
- But-- Son, if you don't come out...
I can't hug you and kiss you
and make you feel all better.
you think I'm dumb enough
to fall for that? I'm insulted.
Shh!