The Simpsons (1989–…): Season 23, Episode 7 - The Man in the Blue Flannel Pants - full transcript

Homer gets promoted to accounts manager at the nuclear power plant, but soon learns the job robs you of your soul. Meanwhile, Lisa introduces Bart to "Little Women."

Hey.

(yelling)
(laughing)

Is there any
better feeling

than waiting for a live
Krusty show to start?

Maybe watching your bride
coming down the aisle.

Hmm.

(organ plays discordant music)

(grunting)

(sobbing)

Why does she get to eat
before the reception?

(sobbing)



♪ The Simpsons 23x07 ♪
The Man in the Blue Flannel Pants
Original Air Date on November 27, 2011

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

Seltzer bottle connected
and pressurized?

Check.

Roll-up dicky
set to six?

Nope. 11.
(gasps)

My comedy comes
from taking risks.

Or avoiding them,
I can't remember.

Krusty, we need to talk.

Make it fast.
I got a coiled up spring

ready to boi-oi-oi-oi-oing.

Oh, why can't I be funny
with just my words?

Bill Maher doesn't put dangerous
things near his crotch,

except when
he's off work.



(laughs)
Yeah.

It's about your vodka,
Absolut Krusty.

We're having trouble
persuading people

it's hip to drink a
vodka made by a clown,

in a bottle shaped
like a clown,

that does this
when you open it.

(ooga horn sounds)

(laughs)

Always gets me.

Yeah, plus,
that TV special

where you drank another brand
of vodka didn't help.

I used up my stuff
poisoning deer.

If we're ever gonna
sell your vodka,

we need to do something
completely unorthodox--

a viral marketing
campaign.

(metallic creaking)

Get to the point!

Unless you want a face
full of clown chunks!

People are more likely
to drink your vodka

if they think all their
coolest friends are drinking it.

So, we pay for
a big party

at the home of a
Springfield trendsetter.

Your Brockman,
your Bumblebee Man...

He invites his cool friends,
we serve free cocktails,

made with your vodka,
generating buzz.

We got buzz.

Positive buzz.

That exists? Wow.

So, all you have to do is find
one of your loyal fans

whose house we can trash
and friends you can exploit.

(metallic creaking)

(gasps, grunts)

I need a drink.

Not that!
Never that!

(theme music plays)

Hey, hey, kids!

Who wants to host
a viral marketing event?

ALL:
Yay!

All you have to do
is write me a letter

about how hip and influential
your parents are.

Milhouse, I'm gonna
win that thing.

How do you know, Bart?

Maybe for once I'll win.

Children of troubled marriages
not eligible.

Oh!

(birds singing)

So, uh, why
are you here?

Is it about that unauthorized
Krusty lookalike

I hired for Lisa's
first communion?

What was his name?

Krappy the Klunk. See?

Homer, we're here
to throw the most redonkulous

marketing outreach
this town's ever seen.

All you have to do is invite
every cool person you know.

Hey, I wrote the application.

Do any of my friends get
to come?

One friend.

He can listen to music
with headphones on,

he gets one slice
of cheese pizza,

and if the party
gets slow,

he has to pretend to let
Krusty save him from drowning.

Redonkulous!

Off the dilge!

(dance music playing)

(tires squeak)

(crowd chatter)

This party is so much better
than the crummy ones we plan.

(laughs)

I hope Bart's having fun.

And that's why John Gielgud
is more of a father to me

than my own father.

Where's the nachos
you promised?

There'll be time enough
for nachos!

Why can't I go to
the grown-up room?

You said the clown scared you.

Well, he did a little.

(crowd chatter
and laughter)

Boy, everyone from the
nuclear plant is here.

Except the bosses,
of course.

Yeah, even Homer's not dumb
enough to invite...

BURNS:
So!

This is the famous party.

Feh.

Guh.

Pffoy.

(crowd chatter)

He's destroying
our youthful demographic!

Oh, God, I need a drink!

So the car in front of us
forgot to validate his... uh...

(laughing):
I was in an anecdote once.

Um, I have surgery
in the morning.

Yeah, and I'm the one
having the surgery.

(sighs)

Homer, you're
the nominal host.

Do something!

Oh! Uh! Oh!

Mr. Burns,

so glad you're here.

Finally, the party
can get started.

Your cotillion seems
to be in full promenade.

(laughs):
Good one.

Uh, Mr. Burns, everyone is dying
to hear you sing karaoke.

Come on, just pick
a popular song.

Do you have anything
by Prince...

Wilhelm of Prussia?

I have 16 million
songs, but, uh, no.

Just play the oldest,
stupidest thing in your catalog.

Uh, let me check
my beeswax cylinders.

Uh, here we are.

♪ Come Josephine
in my flying machine! ♪

♪ Going up she goes,
up she goes ♪

♪ Balance yourself
like a bird on a beam ♪

ALL: ♪ In the air she goes,
there she goes. ♪

(applause and cheering,
Mr. Burns chuckles)

May you all fly
in an aeroplane someday.

You certainly seem to be
enjoying yourself, sir.

Indeed. That Homer Simpson
is the beating baboon heart

of this party.

So he says, "Bigamy is having
one too many wives."

To which I replied,
"So's monogamy."

(laughter)

Oh, yeah!

I may have a use for
this Simpson character

higher up in the
organization.

Really? Well,
as safety inspector,

he hasn't exactly
set the world on fire,

although he came close
several times.

(crow caws)

Simpson, you're
probably wondering

why you're here.

It's never good.

I always wind up
being chased by hounds,

or falling
through a trapdoor,

or being a peg in your game
of human croquet.

When I made you a hoop,
you split your pants.

Now, here at the plant, there's
no position more important

than our accounts man,
who's responsible

for glad-handing our
customers and suppliers.

I'd like you to take
over that position.

The last thing I understood
in that was "pants."

Just give me your answer,
and make it quick!

Our current account man,
Robert Marlowe here,

is retiring at the
end of the month.

In two weeks, the only tie
I'll be wearing is

for autoerotic pleasure.

Yes. Simpson,
only you have the bonhomie

and rotund charm
to replace him.

It means a hefty expense account
and a corner office.

Well, in that case...

Before you say yes, Simpson,
I feel it's my duty to warn you,

account men lose their soul.

Woo-hoo! No
more church!

(door squeaks open and shut)

So long, Sector 7-G.

Hello, Sector 22-F!

(elevator bell dings)

(gasps)

(sizzling)

(giggling)

Uh.

The higher they rise,
the further they fall!

You know,
you're kind of a downer.

I thought
you were retiring.

Why are you still here?

Hey, you're a
baby account man.

Still on the bottle.

So, for my last good
deed before I retire,

I'm going to help you
persuade Mayor Quimby

to sign off on a
nuclear rate hike.

Uh-oh, a meeting
with the mayor.

How do I prepare for that?

(chuckles)

I see.

Now, how do I prepare
for the meeting with the mayor?

I am really enjoying this,
but, um...

Hello! Meeting
with the mayor?

(glass breaking)

Aw. Bourbon go bye-bye.

There ain't enough bourbon
in Kentucky for you, big guy.

Yeah, the governor wrote me
a letter to that effect.

Wow, I can't believe

I'm eating steak
with the mayor.

The next time, I vote for
you, it's gonna be on purpose.

Much obliged.

Now, uh, where would you like

to discuss
your proposed tax breaks?

(laughing)

Mmm.

Hey, Homer!

Look at you, man!

I've outgrown you!

Oh, Mr. Mayor,
more peanut nore?

(knocking on window)

(glass squeaking)

(both grunt)

Say what you will, man.

He's pretty resourceful.

(cheering)
HOMER: Wow.

These seats are amazing.

And if you don't like the score,
you can change it yourself.

(click)

HOMER:
♪ Boring. ♪

(click)

God, what a
great game!

And you, too, can be on the
winning team, Mr. Mayor.

The Springfield
Nuclear Team.

I have never heard an analogy
involving sports!

I love it!

I can't believe
that was work!

Yeah, but work is over now.

Want to drink with me
till I fall asleep?

Oh, well...

Mm, I really should look
at this picture a little longer.

Hmm.

Okay, let's go.

Great. Now, in honor of my
last day on the hamster wheel,

I have a little
gift for you.

This set of bar tools
has been passed down

from account man to account
man since the dawn of history.

1956.

Can you be my dad?

If your mom was a secretary,
there's a good chance I am.

(tires squealing)

(sighs)

Welcome home, handsome!

(both moan)

(laughs)

It's a rat race, but
it looks like I won.

Oh, to the victor
go the spoils.

Mmm.

Dad, you were supposed
to read me a bedtime story.

Oh, sorry,
sweetie.

Bart can read
it to you.

(Homer and Marge laugh)

Read to Lisa? Why don't you
just ask me to kiss her?

If you kissed her,
that would be lovely.

I'll read! I'll read!

And kiss.

Does anyone want
my opinion?

Please, Lisa.

I had 18 martinis today.

MARGE:
Hello.

All right, Lis, let's get this
stupid bedtime story over with.

Proceed to the page with
the butterfly bookmark

as I cuddle up
with Madam Bunny.

(clears throat)

"If genn-i-oos..."

Genius.

"...is eternal pati...

"pat-eh...

pa-tie..."

Patience. Patience!

Get on with it!

Shut up! Shut up!

I'm a bad reader, okay?!

Well, I could help you.

I don't want your help!

I'll get one of those jobs
where you don't need to read,

like French fry maker
or general.

- Well, you're getting my help.
- Forget it.

Don't you want to be
able to read the things

people carve into
your chest in prison?

I guess.

♪ ♪

Close enough.

(sighs)

♪ ♪

"But when the helpful voice
was silent,

"the daily lesson over,
the beloved presence gone,

"and nothing remained
but loneliness and grief,

then Jo found her promise
very hard to keep."

We did it, Bart.

(groans)
I'm a mentor.

Big deal, you taught me
to read one book.

No, Bart, you can read
other books, too.

What?!

Homie, what
are you doing?

My work is
so meaningless.

You make
electricity.

It runs the
hospital.

You can't touch
electricity, Marge,

you can't feel it.

That's because
it would kill you.

It already
is killing me, Marge.

You're the only one
I can talk to.

My wife just
doesn't get it.

I'm your wife.

My job is my wife,

loneliness-- my mistress,
despair-- my sex buddy.

Angst is a chick
I met online,

but then it turned out
it was really a guy.

I'm going to bed.

You don't understand me.

Only she understands me.

Another round, kid?

(squeaks)

Hey, uh...
I got here after you did.

I'm sorry to bother you
at home, Mr. Marlowe,

but my husband's
acting pretty odd--

coming home late,
drinking in the morning.

- Wake me when you get to "odd."
- Hmm.

I don't suppose you'd consider
taking your old job back

so Homie can go back
to his old job?

Sorry, Marge,
that account job hollowed me out

like a cheap chocolate bunny.

I've been divorced three times,
I've got a cocktail addiction,

a shrimp cocktail
addiction,

and I can't stop bending women
to my sexual will.

Well, you certainly
won't be bending me...

Wait, how did I end up
in your bedroom?

Lady, I am smoother than
an Eisenhower-era freeway.

Look, I came to talk
about my husband, and...

How did we get in here?

I think better
in the shower.

There's room in here for two.

I'm a happily married woman.

Wow, no woman's ever done
that to me before.

Your husband
is a lucky man.

I know, and I don't
want him to stray

from anything
except his diet,

and I don't really
want him to do that.

Marge, I made
a big mistake

years ago.

I gave up on
my family.

Then I gave up on my
secret other family.

I missed my son's graduation,
my father's funeral,

and my dog's
best in show.

Don't let Homer make
the mistakes I did.

Luann?

It's not what you think.

It's much weirder.

You're reading
a chapter book.

For fun!

Bullies, to me.

(both grunt)

Let's see the name
of this wedgie ticket.

(gulps)

Little Women?

Are you aware that's another way
of saying "girls"?

Look, I had to read it
to my sister.

Well, maybe
we should hear a little.

And then maybe you'll be
hearing from my sisters.

Your fists
are sisters?

Yeah, Poke-ahontas
and Sock-ajawea!

Nice save.

Get reading.

"And Amy and Jo hugged
one another close,

and everything was forgotten
in one hearty kiss."

End of chapter eight.

You can't stop now.

I want to know if their
father comes home.

Does Jo learn to handle
her hasty temper?

Does Amy get over
her conceitedness?

Aw, come on, guys,
it's getting dark.

Okay, but you better be here
tomorrow after school.

'Cause we're going to
keep making you read us

a lame ol' girl's book.

(laughter)

Bart needs to work
on differentiating

the character voices
a little better.

I know, I keep going,
"Why is Meg saying that?"

and then I realize it's Beth.

(all agreeing)
That's right.

(Homer grunting)

(intercom buzzes)

RECEPTIONIST:
Your wife is here, Mr. S.

(whispering loudly): Tell her
I'm at a meeting, not drinking.

This is
a whisper-amplifying intercom.

- (screams)
- Homer, I want you to come

with me and the kids
on a family vacation.

Of course, of course.

Family is everything
to us company men.

Now, where shall we go
on your vacation?

The farthest thing from
this office I know:

rafting down Rattler
River Canyon.

(whimpers)

That's great--
let me run the numbers

'cause I really want
the Simpson account.

And give these cigars
to your children.

Don't talk to me
like I'm a client.

You're not a client,
you're the client.

(groans)

Simpson, put on your charm-
their-pants-off pants.

The mumpish oafs
in Washington are sending

their sternest band
of nuclear regulators,

handpicked to resist
all blandishment.

I'll handle it, I always do.

Rafting, eh?

It's a perfect way
to entertain them.

Finally, humanity has found
a use for water.

Mr. Burns, I can't go
rafting with you because--

wait a minute,
could this all work?

Oh, no, you don't.

Coggily-doggily.

It all fits.

Mr. Burns, rafting it is.

Excellent.

But Mr. S.,

you just promised this week
to Mrs. S., Master B.,

and Mamselles L. and M.

Now, relax, Dottie.

Leave everything to me.

(grunts)

Oh, Marge, this is
the most romantic trip

you ever nagged me into.

And maybe
when we get home,

we can ride down
something else.

Not sure what you're
going for, but...

(lusty growl)

(gasps)

Uh, Marge, why don't I
catch us some salmon?

(grunting)

D'oh!

(grunting)

It's about time.

We've been making small talk
about Mussolini for 15 minutes.

Well, I, uh, found
that contact lens I was missing.

Let me just screw her back in.

(pained grunting)

So, everybody good?

Why did you get us...

It's more fun to play
with a ball of yarn

if it has all the colors in it.

And yarn should be allowed
to marry dental floss.

If you've got
that, then...

Are you sure
you're Martin Scorsese?

(Homer grunts)

Enjoy the outdoors,
you stupid kid.

(worried grunting)

This family time is so precious.

Got to go.

(panting)

(murmurs suspiciously)

(grunting)

(unzips, hums)

(zips up)

(grunting)

(grunts wearily)

Homer, I want
a Long Island ice tea,

America's most
complicated cocktail.

Homer,

are you schmoozing those men?

(alarmed shriek)

Huh?

Um, I think we're supposed
to get off here.

Take us out first.

Anyone can start a family.

These days
no one can find a job.

Let's see, my family
gives me love and sex.

My work gives me
money and sleep.

Hurry, we're heading
for the falls!

My coworkers are like a family,

but in some ways
my family is like a family, too.

For God's sakes, Homer,
I've given you three children.

Whose side are you on?

Yours, Homie,
I'm always on yours.

How ironic.

I survived the Titanic
by making a raft

out of steerage passengers,
and now this.

MARLOWE: Mr. Burns,
your heart will go on.

(all screaming)

Marlowe, I thought
you retired.

I can't-- Treasury bills
are paying nothing.

Nothing!

Well, Simpson,
you were willing

to let me go
over a waterfall,

but you cut operating expenses
by six percent,

so you're forgiven.

Thanks.

Now if you'll
excuse me,

I don't really like bourbon
or business talk,

just good old
Simpson family fun.

Hey, kids, I'm it.

(laughter)

(grunting)

Aah!

(screams)

I'm okay, and I
found some gold!

See, luckiest man
in the world.

Oh, I'm so glad

you're not an
accounts man anymore.

Yep, your worries
are over.

I'm back to being
a boring old safety inspector

at a nuclear power plant.

(both moaning)

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

Shh!