The Simpsons (1989–…): Season 22, Episode 17 - Love Is a Many Strangled Thing - full transcript
The tables are turned for Homer and Bart after a therapist cures Homer of his violent tendencies toward the boy.
D'oh!
Okay, going down the checklist:
Feu allumé.
Oui.
Ballon gonflé. Oui.
Now enlevez le ballast!
Commencing aerial inspection
of the plant.
Unflattering graffito...
...neutralized.
Gadzooks!
The one hazard this balloon
cannot negotiate...
a gentle breeze!
Help! Curtail my ascent!
Curtail it, I say!
Hey, Mr. Burns needs
our help!
Let's just shoot at him
and see what happens.
Good thing I went hunting
this morning.
Bagged me an elk.
Hey, where'd it go?
Huh! I wonder
if that's the same elk.
Oh, I can't do it.
A balloon saved one
of my arteries.
It doesn't seem right
to kill his cousin.
Looks like it's up to me.
Let's see, target
at two o'clock.
Adjust for wind.
Just shoot already.
But I haven't finished
my rituals yet.
Mwa!
Mmm.
Help! I'm wafting on a zephyr!
That's just sick.
You stink!
Nice shooting, Annie Oakley!
If you were a biathlete,
I'd say "stick to skiing."
Simpson, your sharpened-shooting
has saved my life.
Name your reward.
Anything, just name it.
All your money
and all your stuff.
Lower and likelier.
Uh, Super Bowl tickets?
Playoff tickets?
Regular season, bobblehead day?
Nothing-head day!
Wow! I know I lay down
in front of bulldozers
to stop this stadium
from being built,
but I have to admit,
it's pretty sweet.
It's so fancy:
sushi bars, a 60-screen
movie theater,
Museum of Tolerance.
Oh, man.
Oh, geez.
That made you think.
They, even have a day spa
staffed by former
All-Pro linemen.
You know, I wouldn't
have to do this
if I hadn't bought
a Ferrari a day for 22 seasons.
Flip over.
I once hosted
Saturday Night Live.
Once again, ladies and
gentlemen, Matchbox 20.
Who dat?
Ooh, they even have a zoo...
featuring all the NFL mascots.
This place even has
its own arts district
with football-hating
intellectuals!
We'll stay for one inning,
then we can go.
Well, this has been great.
We should get home soon...
the game's gonna be starting.
Homer, the game is right here.
Oh, that's right!
I hope you kids are enjoying
yourself today
because you and your children
will be paying for this place
long after the team moves
to another city.
Ooh, the Fan Cam!
♪ Everybody dance now! ♪
♪ ♪
♪ Give me the music ♪
♪ Give me the music ♪
♪ Everybody dance now! ♪
♪ Do, do, everybody dance now ♪
♪ Do, do-do-do ♪
Boo!
Come on, party pooper,
bust a move.
Eh. This song's
a little bossy for me.
Aw, come on, sourpuss.
Ticky, ticky,
tickle-tickle!
Stop it!
Tickle-tickle-too!
Cut it out!
Tickle-tickle-
who-wants-a-pickle?!
What does that mean?!
Homie, maybe you should stop.
We've talked
about the gray zone.
Marge, he's laughing.
That means he's happy.
Has the Joker
taught you nothing?
Quit it!
Knock it off!
Stop it!
Dad, this isn't funny!
The child has
wetted his trousers!
Dad, how could you do that?
The whole audience
saw me pee my pants!
Son, I'm really, really sorry.
Oh, I don't know if I can...
whoo!...
ever make it up to you.
I... whoo!...
but I sincerely...
whoo!
Homer! Just because everyone
else is doing the wave
doesn't mean you have to.
No one else is doing it.
I'm trying to start it.
Whoo!
Whoo!
Taking pity on the boy, the
operators of Springfield Stadium
opened the stadium's
retractable roof
in an attempt to dry his pants.
Unfortunately,
the stain was picked up
by Russian spy satellites,
and President Dmitry Medvedev
has taken the pants-wetting
as a sign of American weakness.
A Russian flotilla has just
entered New York harb...
Oh. Bart's never gonna forgive
me for humiliating him.
And I wouldn't blame him.
You've destroyed our
son's self-esteem.
Well, it was your idea
to give him self-esteem
in the first place.
I told you you should've
stopped the tickling.
Now I have to
work overtime What?!
just to counteract
the self-confidence...
Hey Bart, I hear
the forecast is for showers...
in your pants!
I'm on a European vacation,
but "you're a-peein'"
everywhere!
Oui, oui!
Oh. Why did I agree
to moderate this teleconference?
You can't let this
go without using it
as a chance
to improve your fathering.
Well, of course,
I would love to be
a more sensitive father.
You know that.
That's great!
Then you won't mind me
enrolling you
in a fathering class.
I'd like to see you
thumb through
an extension school catalog
and find one.
Here's one right here.
Please, Marge, no.
The other negligent dads
will make fun of me.
They're so cliquey.
You'll be fine.
You always are.
Oh, I miss my friends
from drunk driving school.
They were so cool.
Homer, welcome to Fresh Start,
a fathering enrichment class.
My name is Dr. Zander.
Last week we assigned everyone
to keep a fathering journal.
Gerald, would you like
to share your entries?
Absolutely, Dr. Zander.
"Monday: left work early
to see Derek's baseball game.
"When Derek saw me
in the stands,
"his smile was worth
a million dollars.
"Tuesday:
Lost a million-dollar account
because I left work
early Monday."
That's great journaling.
Comments?
Uh, Homer, it says here
you've been a father
for ten years.
What has that taught you?
Well, for one thing,
you're never really
ready to be a father.
But... oh, you know,
the other day, Bart,
the little dickens,
said I had an elephant butt.
So anyway, I'm strangling him,
and I said to Bart...
Wait. H-Hold on a moment.
You were strangling your son?
Yeah, strangling.
I mean, it's not the only tool
in my parenting toolbox, but...
it's the sharpest.
Right?
Anyway, I said "Bart..."
You're actually serious?
You physically lay your hands
on your boy's neck?
Well, yeah, I... I guess
it's just how I was raised.
Look at these grades!
They're a disgrace!
No TV for a week!
Why, you little...
So, are those butter cookies
for everybody, or.?
Um... why don't we stop there
for today,
and I'll see you next week.
Who do you have next period?
Hey, Doc.
Where is everybody?
I told them not to come.
Why didn't you tell me
not to come?
Homer, to emphasize the
seriousness of this situation,
I'm going to turn my chair
around backwards.
I feel...
in this situation,
the only option is a risky
and radical treatment.
Homer, meet Kareem
Abdul-Jabbar.
Dr. Zander and I play pick-up
basketball on the weekend.
And when he told me
what you do to your son,
I was so disturbed
I only scored 172 points.
I had 86 assists.
But today he's here
to assist me with you.
Hey, what...
wh-what are you doing?
Homer, it's time you understood
what it feels like
to be young,
small and terrified.
No, Doc, please.
I'm just a little boy.
Why, you little...
I don't want to hurt him, Doc.
You have a good heart, Kareem.
Which is why you're the only Laker
I could trust with this task.
Uh, not a good time
to water the plants?
No, it's fine.
Hey, Kareem,
what do you think
about today's selfish players?
Ball-hogging,
tattooed...
♪ No more Mr. Nice Guy ♪
♪ No more Mr. Cle-e-e-ean ♪
♪ No more Mr. Nice Guy ♪
♪ They say, he sick,
he's obsce-e-e-ene. ♪
♪ ♪
Dr. Zander, you made me see
my life through Bart's neck,
and I swear, I will never,
ever strangle my boy again.
I believe we've made
excellent progress here today,
and after another few years
of twice-weekly sessions,
we can really...
Um, I, uh, lied about having
health insurance.
And you're cured.
Hello, boy.
Homer.
I want you to know I'm cured.
Good for you.
No more drinking?
Oh, son.
I can't quit drinking
any more than I could quit being
a man.
Oh.
Now it feels like morning.
What I am cured of is the
blind rage that has soured
our otherwise storybook
relationship.
Go ahead, just
try to provoke me.
I just got up, man.
Oh, come on. Bust
your daddy's chops.
Fine.
Why, you little...!
I'll teach you to...
I'm in your head, man.
Why, you...
I'm gonna...
Maybe this time...
Aw. My son's
first stroke.
Say...
"Cheese."
Can't hurt the boy.
Can't hurt the boy.
What the ...?!
Boy, get down from there.
Okay.
First, I'll send down my shoes.
All right.
Why, you little...!
Oh, come on.
Now you're a tree?
Bart Simpson.
What would your father say
if he knew what you were doing?
He'd say, "I'm a grown man
who's scared of my own son."
I find that hard to believe.
Oh, yeah? Look.
How many more, sir?
Fill the board,
then wash my car.
These are my keys.
What was that?
I-I said,
"My keister is ready
for a whooping, sir."
No. No. I'm just a kid.
Leave me alone.
It's "A-B-C, one, two, three!"
It's the easiest
song in the world!
You think you're better
than the Great Simpsini?
Well, you're not.
What are you gonna do,
write a book about me?
You couldn't get
in the door of Random House
if your name was
Bennett Cerf III.
One, two, three, cry.
One, two, three, cry.
How is that water?
Wet like your tears?
Precious, is that you?
Yes, Mama.
You think you're so pretty.
Where's my lotto ticket?
I forgot, Mama.
And don't you come back
without it!
You hear me?!
Hurry up!
I don't see
many more movie roles
for a girl like you.
Not unless George Lucas
needs another Death Star.
No! Stop!
No Star Wars parodies!
Homer! Homer!
Oh! What?!
The school called and said
Bart is out of control.
I think we may need some therapy
for him.
Oh, that's ridiculous.
How could two people from
the same family need therapy?
Hmm.
Dr. Zander?
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar?
Anyone?
Hmm.
Hmm. Hmm.
Dr. Zander,
what happened?
Oh, it's the damn economy.
When it went south,
the first thing
people stopped spending money on
was expensive therapists.
So, we all live here now,
along with the other
unemployed luxury professionals:
wedding planners,
personal shoppers,
aromatherapists,
high-end caterers.
Mushroom cap?
Those are pieces
of broken glass.
Well, I'll pass that on
to the chef.
I'll also pass on pieces
of your face to my monkeys.
Look, now my son
needs your help.
How much you got on you?
Uh... $23.
And there's a can
of beans in my car.
Ugh!
After a PhD,
lectures on cruises,
monthly column
in Springfield Magazine...
Are there franks in the beans?
So whatever you did to my
husband, it was too effective.
Mm, mm, yes. One of the most
common complaints about therapy.
And now my son is a bully.
Can you fix him?
Probably, but we should
discuss it in your car.
The sommeliers are coming.
Buttery finish.
Great year for Zin.
This is what I drink at home.
Homer, Bart, this
weekend in the wilderness
should repair the shattered
bond between the two of you.
I find
that in a natural setting...
Very funny, Bart.
That's not the snake, is it?
Sorry, little friend.
Slither back to
your natural element.
Now, Bart, I want you
to guide your father
safely through these cacti.
Then what do we win?
A better relationship.
Oh!
Okay, go straight.
Three steps right.
Two to the left.
Now Bart, you do understand
you're supposed
to avoid the cacti.
Sure do. I'm just
bad at counting.
Two to the right.
Backwards one.
Oh!
Diagonal two.
Now do-se-do.
While your father and brother
are doing some manly
bonding in the woods,
I thought we could do
a little bonding of our own.
We'll do each other's nails,
make some brownie sundaes
and watch the four saddest
horse movies I could find.
Broken-Leg Beauty,
Sorry, Silver,
No More Mint Juleps.
And the fourth one has a title
so sad I can't even say it.
Really? Can I see it?
Oh, Beauty,
I don't need money or parents
or eyesight when I've got you.
Oh, I always forget
about this part.
Oh. I don't know.
There's something about this
noose I just don't like.
Homer, desperate times call
for desperate measures.
If you hop down from that limb,
I assure you,
Bart will cut you down.
I don't know.
Keep your neck inside
the rope at all times!
Well? Anything?!
Can't look. Texting.
Ooh, a text.
Let's see. Text message
for I.M.A. Wiener.
As you all can see,
I.M.A. Wiener.
I see it, Moe.
Why you! When I...
When...I... get ahold...
of you, I...
Oh, damn it,
I typed an "F" and not a "D."
Uh... Delete. Delete.
Delete. Delete.
Oh, crap,
I just donated $20 to Haiti!
Bart, I'm trying to get you
to feel something
for your father!
I feel something for him.
Here it comes.
Why you little...?!
Oh, this is a tough neck!
Oh, it's so strong!
Like an oak.
You see? You see how that
boy pushes your buttons?
We'll talk when he's dead!
Just break already!
Thanks, Dad.
Son, you and I are gonna be
closer than ever
as we spend the rest of
our lives suing that therapist.
Sue me for what?
My home in a hollowed-out tree?
Pretty sweet, eh, boy?
You know, I was skeptical,
but I guess therapy works.
♪ He said,
no more Mr. Nice Guy ♪
♪ No more Mr. Cle-e-e-ean ♪
♪ No more Mr. Nice Guy ♪
♪ He said, you're sick,
you're obsce-e-e-ene ♪
♪ No more Mr. Nice Guy ♪
♪ No more Mr. Cle-e-e-ean ♪
♪ No more Mr. Nice Guys ♪
♪ He said, you're sick ♪
♪ You're obsce-e-e-ene ♪
♪ E-e-e-ene, E-e-e-ene ♪
♪ Whoo! ♪
Shh!
Okay, going down the checklist:
Feu allumé.
Oui.
Ballon gonflé. Oui.
Now enlevez le ballast!
Commencing aerial inspection
of the plant.
Unflattering graffito...
...neutralized.
Gadzooks!
The one hazard this balloon
cannot negotiate...
a gentle breeze!
Help! Curtail my ascent!
Curtail it, I say!
Hey, Mr. Burns needs
our help!
Let's just shoot at him
and see what happens.
Good thing I went hunting
this morning.
Bagged me an elk.
Hey, where'd it go?
Huh! I wonder
if that's the same elk.
Oh, I can't do it.
A balloon saved one
of my arteries.
It doesn't seem right
to kill his cousin.
Looks like it's up to me.
Let's see, target
at two o'clock.
Adjust for wind.
Just shoot already.
But I haven't finished
my rituals yet.
Mwa!
Mmm.
Help! I'm wafting on a zephyr!
That's just sick.
You stink!
Nice shooting, Annie Oakley!
If you were a biathlete,
I'd say "stick to skiing."
Simpson, your sharpened-shooting
has saved my life.
Name your reward.
Anything, just name it.
All your money
and all your stuff.
Lower and likelier.
Uh, Super Bowl tickets?
Playoff tickets?
Regular season, bobblehead day?
Nothing-head day!
Wow! I know I lay down
in front of bulldozers
to stop this stadium
from being built,
but I have to admit,
it's pretty sweet.
It's so fancy:
sushi bars, a 60-screen
movie theater,
Museum of Tolerance.
Oh, man.
Oh, geez.
That made you think.
They, even have a day spa
staffed by former
All-Pro linemen.
You know, I wouldn't
have to do this
if I hadn't bought
a Ferrari a day for 22 seasons.
Flip over.
I once hosted
Saturday Night Live.
Once again, ladies and
gentlemen, Matchbox 20.
Who dat?
Ooh, they even have a zoo...
featuring all the NFL mascots.
This place even has
its own arts district
with football-hating
intellectuals!
We'll stay for one inning,
then we can go.
Well, this has been great.
We should get home soon...
the game's gonna be starting.
Homer, the game is right here.
Oh, that's right!
I hope you kids are enjoying
yourself today
because you and your children
will be paying for this place
long after the team moves
to another city.
Ooh, the Fan Cam!
♪ Everybody dance now! ♪
♪ ♪
♪ Give me the music ♪
♪ Give me the music ♪
♪ Everybody dance now! ♪
♪ Do, do, everybody dance now ♪
♪ Do, do-do-do ♪
Boo!
Come on, party pooper,
bust a move.
Eh. This song's
a little bossy for me.
Aw, come on, sourpuss.
Ticky, ticky,
tickle-tickle!
Stop it!
Tickle-tickle-too!
Cut it out!
Tickle-tickle-
who-wants-a-pickle?!
What does that mean?!
Homie, maybe you should stop.
We've talked
about the gray zone.
Marge, he's laughing.
That means he's happy.
Has the Joker
taught you nothing?
Quit it!
Knock it off!
Stop it!
Dad, this isn't funny!
The child has
wetted his trousers!
Dad, how could you do that?
The whole audience
saw me pee my pants!
Son, I'm really, really sorry.
Oh, I don't know if I can...
whoo!...
ever make it up to you.
I... whoo!...
but I sincerely...
whoo!
Homer! Just because everyone
else is doing the wave
doesn't mean you have to.
No one else is doing it.
I'm trying to start it.
Whoo!
Whoo!
Taking pity on the boy, the
operators of Springfield Stadium
opened the stadium's
retractable roof
in an attempt to dry his pants.
Unfortunately,
the stain was picked up
by Russian spy satellites,
and President Dmitry Medvedev
has taken the pants-wetting
as a sign of American weakness.
A Russian flotilla has just
entered New York harb...
Oh. Bart's never gonna forgive
me for humiliating him.
And I wouldn't blame him.
You've destroyed our
son's self-esteem.
Well, it was your idea
to give him self-esteem
in the first place.
I told you you should've
stopped the tickling.
Now I have to
work overtime What?!
just to counteract
the self-confidence...
Hey Bart, I hear
the forecast is for showers...
in your pants!
I'm on a European vacation,
but "you're a-peein'"
everywhere!
Oui, oui!
Oh. Why did I agree
to moderate this teleconference?
You can't let this
go without using it
as a chance
to improve your fathering.
Well, of course,
I would love to be
a more sensitive father.
You know that.
That's great!
Then you won't mind me
enrolling you
in a fathering class.
I'd like to see you
thumb through
an extension school catalog
and find one.
Here's one right here.
Please, Marge, no.
The other negligent dads
will make fun of me.
They're so cliquey.
You'll be fine.
You always are.
Oh, I miss my friends
from drunk driving school.
They were so cool.
Homer, welcome to Fresh Start,
a fathering enrichment class.
My name is Dr. Zander.
Last week we assigned everyone
to keep a fathering journal.
Gerald, would you like
to share your entries?
Absolutely, Dr. Zander.
"Monday: left work early
to see Derek's baseball game.
"When Derek saw me
in the stands,
"his smile was worth
a million dollars.
"Tuesday:
Lost a million-dollar account
because I left work
early Monday."
That's great journaling.
Comments?
Uh, Homer, it says here
you've been a father
for ten years.
What has that taught you?
Well, for one thing,
you're never really
ready to be a father.
But... oh, you know,
the other day, Bart,
the little dickens,
said I had an elephant butt.
So anyway, I'm strangling him,
and I said to Bart...
Wait. H-Hold on a moment.
You were strangling your son?
Yeah, strangling.
I mean, it's not the only tool
in my parenting toolbox, but...
it's the sharpest.
Right?
Anyway, I said "Bart..."
You're actually serious?
You physically lay your hands
on your boy's neck?
Well, yeah, I... I guess
it's just how I was raised.
Look at these grades!
They're a disgrace!
No TV for a week!
Why, you little...
So, are those butter cookies
for everybody, or.?
Um... why don't we stop there
for today,
and I'll see you next week.
Who do you have next period?
Hey, Doc.
Where is everybody?
I told them not to come.
Why didn't you tell me
not to come?
Homer, to emphasize the
seriousness of this situation,
I'm going to turn my chair
around backwards.
I feel...
in this situation,
the only option is a risky
and radical treatment.
Homer, meet Kareem
Abdul-Jabbar.
Dr. Zander and I play pick-up
basketball on the weekend.
And when he told me
what you do to your son,
I was so disturbed
I only scored 172 points.
I had 86 assists.
But today he's here
to assist me with you.
Hey, what...
wh-what are you doing?
Homer, it's time you understood
what it feels like
to be young,
small and terrified.
No, Doc, please.
I'm just a little boy.
Why, you little...
I don't want to hurt him, Doc.
You have a good heart, Kareem.
Which is why you're the only Laker
I could trust with this task.
Uh, not a good time
to water the plants?
No, it's fine.
Hey, Kareem,
what do you think
about today's selfish players?
Ball-hogging,
tattooed...
♪ No more Mr. Nice Guy ♪
♪ No more Mr. Cle-e-e-ean ♪
♪ No more Mr. Nice Guy ♪
♪ They say, he sick,
he's obsce-e-e-ene. ♪
♪ ♪
Dr. Zander, you made me see
my life through Bart's neck,
and I swear, I will never,
ever strangle my boy again.
I believe we've made
excellent progress here today,
and after another few years
of twice-weekly sessions,
we can really...
Um, I, uh, lied about having
health insurance.
And you're cured.
Hello, boy.
Homer.
I want you to know I'm cured.
Good for you.
No more drinking?
Oh, son.
I can't quit drinking
any more than I could quit being
a man.
Oh.
Now it feels like morning.
What I am cured of is the
blind rage that has soured
our otherwise storybook
relationship.
Go ahead, just
try to provoke me.
I just got up, man.
Oh, come on. Bust
your daddy's chops.
Fine.
Why, you little...!
I'll teach you to...
I'm in your head, man.
Why, you...
I'm gonna...
Maybe this time...
Aw. My son's
first stroke.
Say...
"Cheese."
Can't hurt the boy.
Can't hurt the boy.
What the ...?!
Boy, get down from there.
Okay.
First, I'll send down my shoes.
All right.
Why, you little...!
Oh, come on.
Now you're a tree?
Bart Simpson.
What would your father say
if he knew what you were doing?
He'd say, "I'm a grown man
who's scared of my own son."
I find that hard to believe.
Oh, yeah? Look.
How many more, sir?
Fill the board,
then wash my car.
These are my keys.
What was that?
I-I said,
"My keister is ready
for a whooping, sir."
No. No. I'm just a kid.
Leave me alone.
It's "A-B-C, one, two, three!"
It's the easiest
song in the world!
You think you're better
than the Great Simpsini?
Well, you're not.
What are you gonna do,
write a book about me?
You couldn't get
in the door of Random House
if your name was
Bennett Cerf III.
One, two, three, cry.
One, two, three, cry.
How is that water?
Wet like your tears?
Precious, is that you?
Yes, Mama.
You think you're so pretty.
Where's my lotto ticket?
I forgot, Mama.
And don't you come back
without it!
You hear me?!
Hurry up!
I don't see
many more movie roles
for a girl like you.
Not unless George Lucas
needs another Death Star.
No! Stop!
No Star Wars parodies!
Homer! Homer!
Oh! What?!
The school called and said
Bart is out of control.
I think we may need some therapy
for him.
Oh, that's ridiculous.
How could two people from
the same family need therapy?
Hmm.
Dr. Zander?
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar?
Anyone?
Hmm.
Hmm. Hmm.
Dr. Zander,
what happened?
Oh, it's the damn economy.
When it went south,
the first thing
people stopped spending money on
was expensive therapists.
So, we all live here now,
along with the other
unemployed luxury professionals:
wedding planners,
personal shoppers,
aromatherapists,
high-end caterers.
Mushroom cap?
Those are pieces
of broken glass.
Well, I'll pass that on
to the chef.
I'll also pass on pieces
of your face to my monkeys.
Look, now my son
needs your help.
How much you got on you?
Uh... $23.
And there's a can
of beans in my car.
Ugh!
After a PhD,
lectures on cruises,
monthly column
in Springfield Magazine...
Are there franks in the beans?
So whatever you did to my
husband, it was too effective.
Mm, mm, yes. One of the most
common complaints about therapy.
And now my son is a bully.
Can you fix him?
Probably, but we should
discuss it in your car.
The sommeliers are coming.
Buttery finish.
Great year for Zin.
This is what I drink at home.
Homer, Bart, this
weekend in the wilderness
should repair the shattered
bond between the two of you.
I find
that in a natural setting...
Very funny, Bart.
That's not the snake, is it?
Sorry, little friend.
Slither back to
your natural element.
Now, Bart, I want you
to guide your father
safely through these cacti.
Then what do we win?
A better relationship.
Oh!
Okay, go straight.
Three steps right.
Two to the left.
Now Bart, you do understand
you're supposed
to avoid the cacti.
Sure do. I'm just
bad at counting.
Two to the right.
Backwards one.
Oh!
Diagonal two.
Now do-se-do.
While your father and brother
are doing some manly
bonding in the woods,
I thought we could do
a little bonding of our own.
We'll do each other's nails,
make some brownie sundaes
and watch the four saddest
horse movies I could find.
Broken-Leg Beauty,
Sorry, Silver,
No More Mint Juleps.
And the fourth one has a title
so sad I can't even say it.
Really? Can I see it?
Oh, Beauty,
I don't need money or parents
or eyesight when I've got you.
Oh, I always forget
about this part.
Oh. I don't know.
There's something about this
noose I just don't like.
Homer, desperate times call
for desperate measures.
If you hop down from that limb,
I assure you,
Bart will cut you down.
I don't know.
Keep your neck inside
the rope at all times!
Well? Anything?!
Can't look. Texting.
Ooh, a text.
Let's see. Text message
for I.M.A. Wiener.
As you all can see,
I.M.A. Wiener.
I see it, Moe.
Why you! When I...
When...I... get ahold...
of you, I...
Oh, damn it,
I typed an "F" and not a "D."
Uh... Delete. Delete.
Delete. Delete.
Oh, crap,
I just donated $20 to Haiti!
Bart, I'm trying to get you
to feel something
for your father!
I feel something for him.
Here it comes.
Why you little...?!
Oh, this is a tough neck!
Oh, it's so strong!
Like an oak.
You see? You see how that
boy pushes your buttons?
We'll talk when he's dead!
Just break already!
Thanks, Dad.
Son, you and I are gonna be
closer than ever
as we spend the rest of
our lives suing that therapist.
Sue me for what?
My home in a hollowed-out tree?
Pretty sweet, eh, boy?
You know, I was skeptical,
but I guess therapy works.
♪ He said,
no more Mr. Nice Guy ♪
♪ No more Mr. Cle-e-e-ean ♪
♪ No more Mr. Nice Guy ♪
♪ He said, you're sick,
you're obsce-e-e-ene ♪
♪ No more Mr. Nice Guy ♪
♪ No more Mr. Cle-e-e-ean ♪
♪ No more Mr. Nice Guys ♪
♪ He said, you're sick ♪
♪ You're obsce-e-e-ene ♪
♪ E-e-e-ene, E-e-e-ene ♪
♪ Whoo! ♪
Shh!