The Simpsons (1989–…): Season 33, Episode 14 - You Won't Believe What This Episode is About - Act Three Will Shock You! - full transcript
Homer becomes a pariah when footage of him allegedly leaving Santa's Little Helper in a hot car goes viral.
Come on, come on, come on.
Pick up the pace.
Here you go.
- Mm...
Mmm.
Hurry up! It's almost here.
- Mm?
Yippee!
My industrial-grade
steam vacuum.
The same model
they use to clean
grisly crime scenes
and sticky champagne rooms.
Okay, ma'am, I have you down
for a three-hour rental
starting... now.
Everybody, out, out,
out, out, out!
Me and the floors deserve
to savor every minute
of our special spa day.
And take the dog.
Now it's my time
to make these stains "herstory."
Ugh, are you quoting
their actual slogan?
I'm quoting my wildest dreams.
Dog park, dog park, dog park!
Whee!
- Whee! Whee!
Trampoline park,
trampoline park,
trampoline park!
Aw, don't leave me alone
in that giant dirt toilet
with all those lonely
dog-obsessed weirdos.
Please.
Well, what could go wrong
with all those doctors around?
- Hey, Homer.
- What are you doing here?
Once it became
clear that human companionship
was a non-starter,
I adopted this handsome
little mister, Devin.
He loves it here.
The training books say
it's important
to keep your dog socialized.
It's not a book park.
And now that you're here,
I have somebody
I can talk dogs with.
So, where'd you get your dog?
Uh, I think he came
with the house?
Look at us, dog-talking.
We'll meet here every morning
at 7:00 and have our own club.
The Dog Dad Boyz.
I'll reach out
to logo designers.
Oh, God, somebody
get me out of this.
Aah! Dev-Dev!
Control your psycho, maniac.
Bad dog dad.
Membership
in the Dog Dad Boyz revoked.
Oh, you saved me from
the worst kind of human--
a dog lover.
I love you, dog.
Let's go get you a reward.
Okay, wait here for two minutes
while I get your treat.
I'm gonna open
the windows halfway
and leave the AC running.
Hmm.
What ice cream flavor
will make my dog feel
like the most cherished creature
in the entire universe?
Hey, check it out.
Some jerk left their
dog in the car.
With the windows
rolled up, no less.
- Who does that?
- Monster.
Obviously, no chocolate,
but he does love peanut butter.
Rum raisin is a no,
for any species.
What kind of lunatic
thinks this is okay?
Some people are
just born broken.
Puppy spoiler, coming through.
Hey, what am I missing?
A churlish individual saw fit
to desert their dog
in a hideous sedan.
Wait, it's not
what it looks like.
I just left my dog
in my car on purpose.
Whoa, how could you, man?
And on a scorcher like today?
What? It's not a...
Aah!
Come on boy, help me out.
Get the keys. Get the keys.
You expect him to work
under these conditions?
No, wait.
I think Marge
hid a key
under the car somewhere.
The dog-cooking wuss
is trying to hide.
Grab his legs!
Leave me alone.
I'm good with dogs.
He locked the Dalmatian
in the firetruck. Oh!
Gotta be kidding me!
Okay, everyone. The dog's fine.
Why don't you all
just get a life.
No wonder his dog
is such a psycho.
He's probably a bad parent, too.
How dare you?
Dad, you forgot to pick us up.
Glad that's over,
aren't we, boy?
Uh, I'm not so sure.
♪ ♪
Oh... yes.
This must be
how Catholics feel
after confession.
Now, to post some
before-and-after shots
so the neighbors can eat their
dirty carpet hearts out.
Hmm?
No.
No. No...
No!
Okay, so far, the neighborhood
rage is contained
to just dog lovers.
Oh, no. It's spread
to the cat people.
Oh, now it's
the horse crazies.
Those horse crazies
don't mess around.
Homer, you have
to apologize for yesterday.
What? Why?
The dog and I are cool.
Look, we know you didn't
mean to do anything wrong.
But sometimes you just
need to accept responsibility
so people will move on.
So, I drafted you
a heartfelt apology.
That's so sweet, honey.
But trust me, it'll blow over.
When God gave man dominion over
all the beasts of the Earth,
that was not
permission for one man
to abandon a dog
in a hot Plymouth.
Mm. Okay, I get it.
Everybody's mad at me.
Dad, nip this in the bud
and use my apology.
I'm Homer Simpson,
and I'm truly sorry.
Tsk, tsk, tsk!
Sorry if you pee-pee babies
were offended by something
that was no big deal
and everything's fine.
So what's the issue?
Amazing job, you really
got his voice down.
Okay, Homer, I think
you've made your point.
I'm sorry that you don't have
enough things to get mad at.
I'm sorry that you all have skin
thinner than gas station
toilet paper.
And I'm sorry that your
lives are so boring
that you take a man
who left his rescue dog
for two minutes to buy him
organic ice cream
from a woman-owned
local business,
and you crucify him!
- Ahh!
Ow, my dog's eye!
Mm-mm.
♪ ♪
My fellow Springfielders,
here at Burns Industries,
we release the hounds
on all forms of disrespect,
and to tolerance
we say, "excellent."
As such, we have
terminated association
with Homer J. Simpson,
as his actions
do not represent
the values of Evil Corps.
Moving forward,
we plan to sit back,
tent our fingers, and listen.
Well, Homer, on the plus side,
this has made people forget
- you almost killed the dog.
- Oh...
- Yes, this is the residence
of the guy who pushed a pastor
out of a church window.
Uh-huh. And would you
classify that as a death threat
or merely an
act of extreme violence?
Thank you for your rage.
Hm.
Oh, Lovejoy's fine.
But I lost my job and now
that trolls put my photos
and phone number
on the Internet,
I also lost
my anonon-nim-ninim-ninity.
There's also a bunch of TikToks
of people lip-syncing
to what you said,
because that's
what comedy is now.
I'm sorry that you all have skin
thinner than gas station
toilet paper.
Oh, I've never been
so viciously lampooned.
I hate this horrible new world.
What I need now
is the comfort of fast food
and slow friends.
Three weeks later.
Shrimp? Who you calling shrimp?
It's prawn time, baby,
at Dead Lobster's
Annual Prawn-a-thon!
Grab your bib
for crispy popcorn prawn,
wood-grilled prawn skewers
sizzling prawn scampi,
and parmesan-breaded
prawns casino
served over ice cold lump prawn.
All washed down with a tropical
Tiki Passion Prawn-tini.
Guys!
It's Prawn-a-thon time. Guys!
They wouldn't go without me,
would they?
Oh my God, everybody, shut up.
It's the pastor-pusher.
Well, I never.
Why am I always meeting
people who never? Mm.
Hey, "strangers," enjoying
your entrées of embarrassment
about being related to me?
Don't take it personally.
We need to be able to do
some normal family things
without being publicly shamed.
We just want a little
anon-mini-nanom-nini-ninity.
But Prawn-a-thon?
That's our special thon.
I'm so upset
I might not ever be able
to get my prawn on again.
Yikes. That has got to be
the saddest thing
ever said in a chain
seafood restaurant.
It's not too late, Homer.
I'm here to help you.
Help me?
Is this
some kind of prank,
like when those YouTubers
chased me with real machetes?
Wow. And no.
I have created a refuge
where people like you
can find redemption.
I run an institute.
We call it The Institute.
And it might just be
your last chance
at rehabilitating
your reputation.
Wait, wait, are you saying
you can steam clean,
if you will,
my husband's reputational
carpet, if you will?
I am, and I will. And I will.
The Institute is his only hope.
Well, my reputation
is everything to me.
That doesn't jibe
with your past behavior.
I'm tired of reputations
being about past behavior.
I'll do it.
Keep it safe.
Here at the Institute,
we break our rehabilitants up
according to the severity
of their mistakes.
Uh-huh. Yep.
That makes sense.
Interesting.
We don't take any Halloween
mishaps more recent than that
because, at a certain point,
you should know better.
Totally.
Homer, meet your team.
Just like you, they all went
stupid viral in a bad way.
First up, Helen Lovejoy,
aka "Lemonade Karen."
Let me see your permit.
Where did you steal
these lemons from?
I don't think you're even
from this neighborhood.
Siri, call 911.
Councilman Jed Hawk,
aka "The Toilet Rocker,"
who always forgets to turn off
his camera and hit mute.
♪ She was a fast machine ♪
♪ She kept her motor clean ♪
♪ American thighs ♪
- Oh, no.
Larry Doogan,
aka "Pissed-O-Shorty."
He throws tantrums in public.
A lot.
Oh sure, the club's at capacity
as soon as the short guy
shows up.
I get it, and I'm pissed-O!
Oh, so you don't have any
blueberry muffins left
for the short man? I'm pissed-O!
I do... realize you only agreed
to spend the rest
of your life with me
- because I'm short,
and it's pissing-me-o!
Kirk Van Houten,
aka "Juice Box Dad."
Come on, Coach Loser,
don't you want to win?
Take... my son...
Out... of the game!
Oh, yeah, I shared that.
Juice Box Dad.
Wait, how am I supposed
to revive my reputation
associating with these scum?
Watch who you're calling short.
Whoa, somebody's pissed-O.
Siri, call 911.
Look, everyone,
let's just calm down.
Or what? You'll push us
out a stained glass window?
Hey! That was just a careless
accident born out of rage.
Are we sure we have the right
people for this team?
They're awful.
Which is why they're perfect
for this mission.
Here at the Institute,
we believe
good works overcome bad days.
So, to fix your reputations,
your team will be doing
public acts of charity.
When we post them online,
they will make your
transgressions a distant memory.
Work together?
Sorry, I don't exactly
play well with others.
Okay, then we'll spend the day
doing a bunch of team-building
improv exercises.
Good deeds! Good deeds!
♪ I'm a fool
to do your dirty work ♪
♪ Oh, yeah ♪
♪ I don't wanna do ♪
♪ Your dirty work ♪
♪ No more ♪
♪ I'm a fool
to do your dirty work ♪
♪ Oh, yeah. ♪
I can feel my reputation
being restored
with each carefully-staged
good deed.
Look, it's the people
the Internet told us to hate.
They still hate us.
The plan isn't working.
What do we do now?
Call 911?
Unfortunately,
that was the only way
to get you your lives back.
Well, there is one other way.
No, we can't.
- What?
- No, it's too radical.
Ah, but it's the only thing
that's 100% guaranteed to work.
Hmm, yeah, it does sound
pretty radical.
Thanks for being honest
about that.
Well, sometimes
the only way to get results
is through radical action.
Sorry, we took a vote.
It's too radical.
Wh... I didn't even
tell you what it is yet.
When you said "radical,"
you said enough.
Bye forever.
Look, I thought that
by calling it radical,
you'd be more likely
to want to do it.
Like you'd be intrigued
or something.
Intrigued, eh?
You are all here
at The Institute...
...because of
the humiliation you faced
after the world
saw you on your worst day.
But, what if you could
delete all that
from every computer,
every phone, every meme,
and even every personal
hard drive on Earth?
But that's impossible.
You'd have to invent
something to do that.
Funny you say that.
I did
invent something to do that.
A universal eradication code
that can completely scrub
any image or video
from the entire Internet.
Scrub us.
You scrub us right now!
Oh, I would, but first
I need to upload the code
into the one server
powerful enough
to reach every corner
of the World Wide Web.
ChumNet.
You mean the company
that puts those annoying
clickbait-y headlines
on the bottom of every website?
Yes, they're everywhere.
No platform has greater reach.
But to upload the scrub code
into their servers,
I need you to break in
to the ChumNet headquarters.
Break in?
That sounds dangerous.
It is, Helen.
That was the radical part
I mentioned earlier,
that didn't seem
to land with any of you.
Radical, eh?
Yeah, we don't have
anything to lose.
So, we're kind of like
a suicide squad.
You're exactly kind of like
a suicide squad.
What do you say?
I think we can pull this-O.
I say we do it.
We need to fight for each other,
because we're a family.
Aw.
A family I don't want or need.
I miss my actual family,
so let's do this.
But if we're going
on a commando mission,
don't we need
some sort of training?
Don't you see?
You've already had
some sort of training.
♪ I'm a fool
to do your dirty work ♪
♪ Oh, yeah ♪
♪ I don't wanna do
your dirty work ♪
♪ No more ♪
♪ I'm a fool
to do your dirty work. ♪
We're in.
Okay, just stay focused
until you find
the ChumNet server room.
What about
all the people in there?
There are no people.
Just clickbait.
So whatever you do,
don't stop to click on anything.
Who falls
for this garbage anyway?
- Wait, what does
she look like now?
"80 NFL players
who live in bad houses.
Number six will shock you."
- Well, we'll see about that.
"One simple trick to add
- years to your height."
Whoa, these headlines
are so tempting.
No!
We have to remember our goal.
Erasing our shame and returning
to our pre-pariah lives.
Oh, no.
They're all trapped in endless
slow-loading slideshows.
These houses suck.
Sucks, sucks, sucks.
Number six.
Homer, get them out now!
I just wanted to know
which vegetable
gut doctors are begging me
to throw out.
It's radishes. I could have
told you it was radishes!
Find the server room, Homer,
you'll be safe there.
This is prawn-demonium!
Ooh.
Okay, straight ahead
is the access port.
Mm...
Insert the flash drive.
Once the scrub code
is fully uploaded,
everything will be erased,
and you will return
to a life of anon-min-mity.
Anon-min, Amoni-mity.
It's "anonymity."
Preparing global Internet scrub
for the following individuals.
There we are.
Wait, who are they?
I recognize these people.
They're really terrible.
That guy raised the price
of insulin for fun.
I think that guy
was just president,
and those are his kids.
And, oh, my God,
that's the football coach
that does all the cheating!
Yes, Homer.
All evidence of their misdeeds
will be erased too.
But that's different.
Those people did
actual bad stuff.
Wow, lot of Russian generals.
Upload at 60%.
Jeebus crackers.
So the only way
to save myself
is to erase the crimes
of history's current monsters?
Oh, wise up, Homer.
Who do you think funded
this entire operation?
Scrubbing these villains
is what The Institute
was always really about.
What do I do?
Wait, I never
had a handkerchief.
Oh, this is the apology
Lisa wrote for me.
The upload's nearly complete.
I can think of almost nothing
at the last minute
that will stop us now.
"It is with my family's support
that I will strive
to do the right thing."
I will strive
to do the right thing!
Homer, listen, you don't know
what my investors
are capable of doing to people
who don't help them cover up
what they're capable of doing.
You don't know
what I'm capable of doing.
Yoinking this doodad
out of the computer hole.
Internet scrub cancelled.
Idiot! You ruined it!
No, my daughter ruined it
by writing the most genuine
and inspirational apology ever.
You should hear it.
I'm Homer Simpson,
and I'm truly sorry.
Sorry, yet also grateful
for this opportunity...
In the annals of time,
there have only been five
truly great public apologies.
But on that day,
the words Lisa wrote,
and Homer somehow read
to everyone in the world,
put those others to shame.
It was deeply soul-searching
and 100% effective.
Homer was forgiven by all
and beloved forever.
You failed us.
We're gonna do to you
what we did to democracy:
irreparable damage.
The plan was too radical.
Too radical!
No, no, no!
Radical...
Radical!
♪ ♪
And because of all of you,
from here forward,
I will be the best
Homer Simpson I can be.
There you have it--
a reminder that we could all be
a little more understanding
of one another's humanity.
Up next,
dumb idiot
has heart attack on treadmill.
Another plate of shrimp.
J.K.
It's prawns.
I should have listened
to you all along.
Yeah. Well, mostly, you just
shouldn't have left
the dog in the car.
Yeah, agree to disagree.
But he and I
have an arrangement.
Captioning sponsored by
20th CENTURY FOX TELEVISION
FOX BROADCASTING COMPANY
And FORD.
We go further, so you can.
Shh!
Pick up the pace.
Here you go.
- Mm...
Mmm.
Hurry up! It's almost here.
- Mm?
Yippee!
My industrial-grade
steam vacuum.
The same model
they use to clean
grisly crime scenes
and sticky champagne rooms.
Okay, ma'am, I have you down
for a three-hour rental
starting... now.
Everybody, out, out,
out, out, out!
Me and the floors deserve
to savor every minute
of our special spa day.
And take the dog.
Now it's my time
to make these stains "herstory."
Ugh, are you quoting
their actual slogan?
I'm quoting my wildest dreams.
Dog park, dog park, dog park!
Whee!
- Whee! Whee!
Trampoline park,
trampoline park,
trampoline park!
Aw, don't leave me alone
in that giant dirt toilet
with all those lonely
dog-obsessed weirdos.
Please.
Well, what could go wrong
with all those doctors around?
- Hey, Homer.
- What are you doing here?
Once it became
clear that human companionship
was a non-starter,
I adopted this handsome
little mister, Devin.
He loves it here.
The training books say
it's important
to keep your dog socialized.
It's not a book park.
And now that you're here,
I have somebody
I can talk dogs with.
So, where'd you get your dog?
Uh, I think he came
with the house?
Look at us, dog-talking.
We'll meet here every morning
at 7:00 and have our own club.
The Dog Dad Boyz.
I'll reach out
to logo designers.
Oh, God, somebody
get me out of this.
Aah! Dev-Dev!
Control your psycho, maniac.
Bad dog dad.
Membership
in the Dog Dad Boyz revoked.
Oh, you saved me from
the worst kind of human--
a dog lover.
I love you, dog.
Let's go get you a reward.
Okay, wait here for two minutes
while I get your treat.
I'm gonna open
the windows halfway
and leave the AC running.
Hmm.
What ice cream flavor
will make my dog feel
like the most cherished creature
in the entire universe?
Hey, check it out.
Some jerk left their
dog in the car.
With the windows
rolled up, no less.
- Who does that?
- Monster.
Obviously, no chocolate,
but he does love peanut butter.
Rum raisin is a no,
for any species.
What kind of lunatic
thinks this is okay?
Some people are
just born broken.
Puppy spoiler, coming through.
Hey, what am I missing?
A churlish individual saw fit
to desert their dog
in a hideous sedan.
Wait, it's not
what it looks like.
I just left my dog
in my car on purpose.
Whoa, how could you, man?
And on a scorcher like today?
What? It's not a...
Aah!
Come on boy, help me out.
Get the keys. Get the keys.
You expect him to work
under these conditions?
No, wait.
I think Marge
hid a key
under the car somewhere.
The dog-cooking wuss
is trying to hide.
Grab his legs!
Leave me alone.
I'm good with dogs.
He locked the Dalmatian
in the firetruck. Oh!
Gotta be kidding me!
Okay, everyone. The dog's fine.
Why don't you all
just get a life.
No wonder his dog
is such a psycho.
He's probably a bad parent, too.
How dare you?
Dad, you forgot to pick us up.
Glad that's over,
aren't we, boy?
Uh, I'm not so sure.
♪ ♪
Oh... yes.
This must be
how Catholics feel
after confession.
Now, to post some
before-and-after shots
so the neighbors can eat their
dirty carpet hearts out.
Hmm?
No.
No. No...
No!
Okay, so far, the neighborhood
rage is contained
to just dog lovers.
Oh, no. It's spread
to the cat people.
Oh, now it's
the horse crazies.
Those horse crazies
don't mess around.
Homer, you have
to apologize for yesterday.
What? Why?
The dog and I are cool.
Look, we know you didn't
mean to do anything wrong.
But sometimes you just
need to accept responsibility
so people will move on.
So, I drafted you
a heartfelt apology.
That's so sweet, honey.
But trust me, it'll blow over.
When God gave man dominion over
all the beasts of the Earth,
that was not
permission for one man
to abandon a dog
in a hot Plymouth.
Mm. Okay, I get it.
Everybody's mad at me.
Dad, nip this in the bud
and use my apology.
I'm Homer Simpson,
and I'm truly sorry.
Tsk, tsk, tsk!
Sorry if you pee-pee babies
were offended by something
that was no big deal
and everything's fine.
So what's the issue?
Amazing job, you really
got his voice down.
Okay, Homer, I think
you've made your point.
I'm sorry that you don't have
enough things to get mad at.
I'm sorry that you all have skin
thinner than gas station
toilet paper.
And I'm sorry that your
lives are so boring
that you take a man
who left his rescue dog
for two minutes to buy him
organic ice cream
from a woman-owned
local business,
and you crucify him!
- Ahh!
Ow, my dog's eye!
Mm-mm.
♪ ♪
My fellow Springfielders,
here at Burns Industries,
we release the hounds
on all forms of disrespect,
and to tolerance
we say, "excellent."
As such, we have
terminated association
with Homer J. Simpson,
as his actions
do not represent
the values of Evil Corps.
Moving forward,
we plan to sit back,
tent our fingers, and listen.
Well, Homer, on the plus side,
this has made people forget
- you almost killed the dog.
- Oh...
- Yes, this is the residence
of the guy who pushed a pastor
out of a church window.
Uh-huh. And would you
classify that as a death threat
or merely an
act of extreme violence?
Thank you for your rage.
Hm.
Oh, Lovejoy's fine.
But I lost my job and now
that trolls put my photos
and phone number
on the Internet,
I also lost
my anonon-nim-ninim-ninity.
There's also a bunch of TikToks
of people lip-syncing
to what you said,
because that's
what comedy is now.
I'm sorry that you all have skin
thinner than gas station
toilet paper.
Oh, I've never been
so viciously lampooned.
I hate this horrible new world.
What I need now
is the comfort of fast food
and slow friends.
Three weeks later.
Shrimp? Who you calling shrimp?
It's prawn time, baby,
at Dead Lobster's
Annual Prawn-a-thon!
Grab your bib
for crispy popcorn prawn,
wood-grilled prawn skewers
sizzling prawn scampi,
and parmesan-breaded
prawns casino
served over ice cold lump prawn.
All washed down with a tropical
Tiki Passion Prawn-tini.
Guys!
It's Prawn-a-thon time. Guys!
They wouldn't go without me,
would they?
Oh my God, everybody, shut up.
It's the pastor-pusher.
Well, I never.
Why am I always meeting
people who never? Mm.
Hey, "strangers," enjoying
your entrées of embarrassment
about being related to me?
Don't take it personally.
We need to be able to do
some normal family things
without being publicly shamed.
We just want a little
anon-mini-nanom-nini-ninity.
But Prawn-a-thon?
That's our special thon.
I'm so upset
I might not ever be able
to get my prawn on again.
Yikes. That has got to be
the saddest thing
ever said in a chain
seafood restaurant.
It's not too late, Homer.
I'm here to help you.
Help me?
Is this
some kind of prank,
like when those YouTubers
chased me with real machetes?
Wow. And no.
I have created a refuge
where people like you
can find redemption.
I run an institute.
We call it The Institute.
And it might just be
your last chance
at rehabilitating
your reputation.
Wait, wait, are you saying
you can steam clean,
if you will,
my husband's reputational
carpet, if you will?
I am, and I will. And I will.
The Institute is his only hope.
Well, my reputation
is everything to me.
That doesn't jibe
with your past behavior.
I'm tired of reputations
being about past behavior.
I'll do it.
Keep it safe.
Here at the Institute,
we break our rehabilitants up
according to the severity
of their mistakes.
Uh-huh. Yep.
That makes sense.
Interesting.
We don't take any Halloween
mishaps more recent than that
because, at a certain point,
you should know better.
Totally.
Homer, meet your team.
Just like you, they all went
stupid viral in a bad way.
First up, Helen Lovejoy,
aka "Lemonade Karen."
Let me see your permit.
Where did you steal
these lemons from?
I don't think you're even
from this neighborhood.
Siri, call 911.
Councilman Jed Hawk,
aka "The Toilet Rocker,"
who always forgets to turn off
his camera and hit mute.
♪ She was a fast machine ♪
♪ She kept her motor clean ♪
♪ American thighs ♪
- Oh, no.
Larry Doogan,
aka "Pissed-O-Shorty."
He throws tantrums in public.
A lot.
Oh sure, the club's at capacity
as soon as the short guy
shows up.
I get it, and I'm pissed-O!
Oh, so you don't have any
blueberry muffins left
for the short man? I'm pissed-O!
I do... realize you only agreed
to spend the rest
of your life with me
- because I'm short,
and it's pissing-me-o!
Kirk Van Houten,
aka "Juice Box Dad."
Come on, Coach Loser,
don't you want to win?
Take... my son...
Out... of the game!
Oh, yeah, I shared that.
Juice Box Dad.
Wait, how am I supposed
to revive my reputation
associating with these scum?
Watch who you're calling short.
Whoa, somebody's pissed-O.
Siri, call 911.
Look, everyone,
let's just calm down.
Or what? You'll push us
out a stained glass window?
Hey! That was just a careless
accident born out of rage.
Are we sure we have the right
people for this team?
They're awful.
Which is why they're perfect
for this mission.
Here at the Institute,
we believe
good works overcome bad days.
So, to fix your reputations,
your team will be doing
public acts of charity.
When we post them online,
they will make your
transgressions a distant memory.
Work together?
Sorry, I don't exactly
play well with others.
Okay, then we'll spend the day
doing a bunch of team-building
improv exercises.
Good deeds! Good deeds!
♪ I'm a fool
to do your dirty work ♪
♪ Oh, yeah ♪
♪ I don't wanna do ♪
♪ Your dirty work ♪
♪ No more ♪
♪ I'm a fool
to do your dirty work ♪
♪ Oh, yeah. ♪
I can feel my reputation
being restored
with each carefully-staged
good deed.
Look, it's the people
the Internet told us to hate.
They still hate us.
The plan isn't working.
What do we do now?
Call 911?
Unfortunately,
that was the only way
to get you your lives back.
Well, there is one other way.
No, we can't.
- What?
- No, it's too radical.
Ah, but it's the only thing
that's 100% guaranteed to work.
Hmm, yeah, it does sound
pretty radical.
Thanks for being honest
about that.
Well, sometimes
the only way to get results
is through radical action.
Sorry, we took a vote.
It's too radical.
Wh... I didn't even
tell you what it is yet.
When you said "radical,"
you said enough.
Bye forever.
Look, I thought that
by calling it radical,
you'd be more likely
to want to do it.
Like you'd be intrigued
or something.
Intrigued, eh?
You are all here
at The Institute...
...because of
the humiliation you faced
after the world
saw you on your worst day.
But, what if you could
delete all that
from every computer,
every phone, every meme,
and even every personal
hard drive on Earth?
But that's impossible.
You'd have to invent
something to do that.
Funny you say that.
I did
invent something to do that.
A universal eradication code
that can completely scrub
any image or video
from the entire Internet.
Scrub us.
You scrub us right now!
Oh, I would, but first
I need to upload the code
into the one server
powerful enough
to reach every corner
of the World Wide Web.
ChumNet.
You mean the company
that puts those annoying
clickbait-y headlines
on the bottom of every website?
Yes, they're everywhere.
No platform has greater reach.
But to upload the scrub code
into their servers,
I need you to break in
to the ChumNet headquarters.
Break in?
That sounds dangerous.
It is, Helen.
That was the radical part
I mentioned earlier,
that didn't seem
to land with any of you.
Radical, eh?
Yeah, we don't have
anything to lose.
So, we're kind of like
a suicide squad.
You're exactly kind of like
a suicide squad.
What do you say?
I think we can pull this-O.
I say we do it.
We need to fight for each other,
because we're a family.
Aw.
A family I don't want or need.
I miss my actual family,
so let's do this.
But if we're going
on a commando mission,
don't we need
some sort of training?
Don't you see?
You've already had
some sort of training.
♪ I'm a fool
to do your dirty work ♪
♪ Oh, yeah ♪
♪ I don't wanna do
your dirty work ♪
♪ No more ♪
♪ I'm a fool
to do your dirty work. ♪
We're in.
Okay, just stay focused
until you find
the ChumNet server room.
What about
all the people in there?
There are no people.
Just clickbait.
So whatever you do,
don't stop to click on anything.
Who falls
for this garbage anyway?
- Wait, what does
she look like now?
"80 NFL players
who live in bad houses.
Number six will shock you."
- Well, we'll see about that.
"One simple trick to add
- years to your height."
Whoa, these headlines
are so tempting.
No!
We have to remember our goal.
Erasing our shame and returning
to our pre-pariah lives.
Oh, no.
They're all trapped in endless
slow-loading slideshows.
These houses suck.
Sucks, sucks, sucks.
Number six.
Homer, get them out now!
I just wanted to know
which vegetable
gut doctors are begging me
to throw out.
It's radishes. I could have
told you it was radishes!
Find the server room, Homer,
you'll be safe there.
This is prawn-demonium!
Ooh.
Okay, straight ahead
is the access port.
Mm...
Insert the flash drive.
Once the scrub code
is fully uploaded,
everything will be erased,
and you will return
to a life of anon-min-mity.
Anon-min, Amoni-mity.
It's "anonymity."
Preparing global Internet scrub
for the following individuals.
There we are.
Wait, who are they?
I recognize these people.
They're really terrible.
That guy raised the price
of insulin for fun.
I think that guy
was just president,
and those are his kids.
And, oh, my God,
that's the football coach
that does all the cheating!
Yes, Homer.
All evidence of their misdeeds
will be erased too.
But that's different.
Those people did
actual bad stuff.
Wow, lot of Russian generals.
Upload at 60%.
Jeebus crackers.
So the only way
to save myself
is to erase the crimes
of history's current monsters?
Oh, wise up, Homer.
Who do you think funded
this entire operation?
Scrubbing these villains
is what The Institute
was always really about.
What do I do?
Wait, I never
had a handkerchief.
Oh, this is the apology
Lisa wrote for me.
The upload's nearly complete.
I can think of almost nothing
at the last minute
that will stop us now.
"It is with my family's support
that I will strive
to do the right thing."
I will strive
to do the right thing!
Homer, listen, you don't know
what my investors
are capable of doing to people
who don't help them cover up
what they're capable of doing.
You don't know
what I'm capable of doing.
Yoinking this doodad
out of the computer hole.
Internet scrub cancelled.
Idiot! You ruined it!
No, my daughter ruined it
by writing the most genuine
and inspirational apology ever.
You should hear it.
I'm Homer Simpson,
and I'm truly sorry.
Sorry, yet also grateful
for this opportunity...
In the annals of time,
there have only been five
truly great public apologies.
But on that day,
the words Lisa wrote,
and Homer somehow read
to everyone in the world,
put those others to shame.
It was deeply soul-searching
and 100% effective.
Homer was forgiven by all
and beloved forever.
You failed us.
We're gonna do to you
what we did to democracy:
irreparable damage.
The plan was too radical.
Too radical!
No, no, no!
Radical...
Radical!
♪ ♪
And because of all of you,
from here forward,
I will be the best
Homer Simpson I can be.
There you have it--
a reminder that we could all be
a little more understanding
of one another's humanity.
Up next,
dumb idiot
has heart attack on treadmill.
Another plate of shrimp.
J.K.
It's prawns.
I should have listened
to you all along.
Yeah. Well, mostly, you just
shouldn't have left
the dog in the car.
Yeah, agree to disagree.
But he and I
have an arrangement.
Captioning sponsored by
20th CENTURY FOX TELEVISION
FOX BROADCASTING COMPANY
And FORD.
We go further, so you can.
Shh!