Team Homer (1996)
Oh, my God! The Mad magazine special edition.
They only put out 17 of these a year!
Boy, they're really sockin' it to that Spiro Agnew guy again. He must work there or something.
Let's do the fold-in. Okay.
"What higher power do TV evangelists worship?"
I'll say God. I'll sayJesus.
"The almighty dollar"? You fold it, you bought it.
Whoo! "Snappy answers to stupid questions. "
I'm great at these. Ask me if something smells funny in here, boy.
Does something smell funny in here? I don't think so, stupid.
Homie, you want pork chops? No, I want roast beef, you clod!
Look at this. Special insert: "Iron-on madness.
Ban the bath. Don't trust anyone over 10.
Sock it to me!"
Those magazines create a dangerous amount of laughter.
"The 'all-ighty ollar"'?
I get it.
Say, business stinks tonight. Where's Barney, Lenny and Carl?
They never come around anymore now that they got their mistresses.
Might as well close the dump.
I am gonna drink you under the table. No.
I am going to drink you under the-
Well, you're closin'. It's gettin' late.
My kids are probably wondering where their daddy is.
There's gotta be some other place we can go. Think, Moe! Think!
Sorry. It's league night. I couldn't give a lane to my own mother.
I have no son.
Man, you go through life, you try to be nice to people... you struggle to resist the urge to punch 'em in the face, and for what?
For some pimply little puke that treats ya like dirt unless you're on a team.
Well, I'm better than dirt. Well, most kinds of dirt.
I mean, not that fancy, store-bought dirt. That stuff's loaded with nutrients.
I can't compete with that stuff.
That I cannot bowl wreaks havoc with my self-esteem as well, but who am I to complain?
Well, I'm tired of being a wannabe league bowler. I wanna be a league bowler!
Hey, we can be a team.
Excuse me, but my team is ready to bowl.
You're short one person. Uh... that long-haired freak's bowled with us for years.
I don't care if it takes me all night. I'm gonna get me that lobster harmonica.
Come on, lobstie. Whoo.
Oh, okay. Then I just need your $500 registration fee. $500!
Oh, no problem. Would you take an out-of-state, two-party, bad check?
No, I will not pay you $500 for sex.
Aw, come on, Marge. You're getting something in return, and I'm getting a bowling team.
It's win-win. It's sick... and I don't have that kind of money to spend on sex.
Maybe you could get someone with money to sponsor your team, like Mr. Burns.
Burns never gives money to anybody.
Just last week, I asked him for $1,500. For what?
Oh, I gotta get the third degree from you too?
Tonight's homework assignment is- Oh, man, is it hot in here.
I'd better take off my sweater.
"Down with"- "homework"?
Don't look at it, children. His shirt makes a good point.
I'm with the shirt! Homework rots!
Down with homework! Down with homework!
As I was saying, my yearly evaluation couldn't have come at a better time.
Well, Seymour, I must say, for once, I am impressed.
In fact, I am going to give this school a perfect 10.
I'll just write the zero first.
Now a vertical line to indicate the one.
Down with homework!
Skinner, why are there children walking on my head?
So, we meet again, Mad magazine.
How do you know it's from Mad? The year was 1968.
We were on recon in a steaming Mekong delta.
An overheated private removed his flak jacket, revealing a T-shirt... with an iron-on sporting the Mad slogan "up with miniskirts. "
Well, we all had a good laugh, even though I didn't quite understand it.
But our momentary lapse of concentration allowed Charlie to get the drop on us.
I spent the next three years in a P.O.W. camp... forced to subsist on a thin stew made of fish, vegetables... prawns, coconut milk and four kinds of rice.
I came close to madness trying to find it here in the States... but they just can't get the spices right.
Uh, my punishment? Hmm? Oh, I'm gonna have to think about that.
Meanwhile, wear this home.
No-o-o. I need some more ether.
I can still feel the movement of the emery board.
We're fresh out, sir. I'll get some more. Leave the rag.
Uh, excuse me, Mr. Burns.
Pop 'n' Fresh, you glutinous little dough boy!
There's something I've wanted to do to you for years.
Mr. Burns, I was wondering if you'd like... to sponsor my bowling team for $500.
Why, certainly, Pop 'n' Fresh.
I owe my robust physique to your tubes of triple-bleached goo.
Whoo-hoo! Hey, everybody, if you wanna ask Burns for a favor, now's the time!
He's doped up or dyin' or somethin'!
Uh, excuse me. I'd like to request $17... for a push broom rebristling.
Why, it's that delightful TV leprechaun! I'm going to get your Lucky Charms.
Oh, no. My brains.
Hey, nice, quote, uniforms, end quote.
This just in. A new addition to our worst-dressed list: those guys!
Oh, forget this. I am far too fragile... to withstand an evening of barbs like that.
Oh, come on. If we quit now, we'll never know how badly they're gonna beat us.
Yeah, you're right. That's the kind of thing that would haunt ya.
: Buenas noches, senoritas.!
What did he say? What did he say? Was that about me?
Okay, Otto. Pressure's on.
Don't choke. Don't choke. Don't choke. Don't... choke.
Oh, man! I knew I was gonna choke.
That's a funny-lookin' strike. Come on, guys.
Let's be the team that supports each other.
You can do it, Otto! You can do it, Otto!
Help each other out! That'll be our motto!
You can do it, Otto! You can do it, Otto!
Make this spare, I give you free gelato!
Then back to my place, where I will get you blotto!
Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto. You can do it, Otto! You can do it-
Guys, I made the spare. We won.
Yes! Yeah! All right!
Those beers are five dollars apiece.
Let me set the scene for you, Marge. All right.
It's a 7-10 split, the hardest shot in bowling. Uh-huh.
It was all up to me, so I got up all my courage.
Right away, my lips started to move... and I came up with a chant that won the match!
Who knocked down the pins? I don't know. You know, some guy. Otto, I guess.
Good for him. Yes, but, Marge, you're missing the point.
The individual doesn't matter. It was a team effort.
And I was the one who came up with the whole team idea.
Me. I can't believe Otto picked up a 7-10 split.
He's phenomenal. Wow. But-
Several days ago, a violent riot erupted... incited by an inflammatory T-shirt slogan.
No, no. Now, don't try to remember what that slogan was.
To ensure that this frenzied dance of destruction is never repeated...
I've decided, starting Monday, all students will be required to wear uniforms.
Say hello to our little genius, Martin, who looks even smarter... in this vest and short pant combination from Mr. Boy of Main Street.
Or how about little Lisa Simpson?
She'll have no reason to play the blues in this snappy ensemble... topped off with a saucy French beret... that seems to scream "silence. "
All right. Pick your size: extra small or extra large.
We've got both. No pushing now. I-What?
Oh, I've just been informed we've run out of extra large.
Go, Moe.! Go, Moe.! Don't make Homer shout out, "D'oh.!"
All right, Snake. Make us proud.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, 10.
Ah, we forfeit.
We'll take it.
There it is, boys: the championship trophy.
Whoo. We will never possess it.
The Holy Rollers have won it five years in a row.
They think they're so high and mighty... just 'cause they never got caught drivin' without pants.
God boy couldn't get a strike!
It's me. Ned.
Mom, my slingshot doesn't fit in these pockets... and these shorts leave nothing to the imagination.
These uniforms suck. Bart, where do you pick up words like that?
Yeah, Moe, that team sure did suck last night. Theyjust plain sucked.
I've seen teams suck before, but they were the suckiest bunch of sucks that ever sucked.
Homer, watch your mouth! I gotta go. My damn wiener kids are listening.
We are not wieners. Then what are you dressed like that for?
They made us. Oh. "They made us. "
That's loser talk. You gotta start acting more like me and my team... the future league champions of the world.
Nothing's gonna stop us now.
Stop everything! I don't remember writing a check for bowling.
Sir, that's a check for your boweling. Oh, yes. That's very important.
Yes, sir. Remember that month you didn't do it?
Yes, that was unpleasant for all concerned.
Anyway, back to the checks. Stop everything!
I don't remember writing a check for bowling. Hmm.
The memo says, "To my pal, Pop 'n' Fresh. "
Oh, yes. That greedy, grasping glob of chemicals.
Probably one of your ether-induced hallucinations, sir.
I'll check the employee files to see who could pull off such an impersonation.
It was either Pops Freshenmeyer... or Homer Simpson.
Simpson, eh? Let's shut down this bowling scam right now.
Come on, Homer. Come on, Homer. Pretend this is baseball and hit us a homer.
You rolled it. You rolled it.
By the way, rhyming "Homer" with "Homer"-
Look at them, Smithers, enjoying their embezzlement.
I have a much uglier word for it, sir: misappropriation.
Listen here. I want to join your team.
You wanna join my what? You wanna what his team?
I've had one of my unpredictable changes of heart.
Seeing these fine young athletes reveling in the humiliation of a vanquished foe-
I haven't felt this energized since my last... boweling.
Oh, man. He'll blow our winning streak.
Yeah. Call this an unfair generalization if you must... but old people are no good at everything.
Look, guys, it's not that simple. He's my boss.
I'll tell you what. I'll give him a shot, and if he stinks... it'll be easier to tell him no.
It wasn't any easier.
Ah, these uniforms are a godsend.
Horseplay's down 40%. Youthful exuberance has been cut in half.
High spirits are at an all-time low.
They've even begun blinking in unison. I love that sound.
Now, children, while you're having quiet time...
I'm going to make sure my desk is exactly parallel to the rear wall.
Oh, there's something I used... to do in this situation, but can't remember.
I can't believe I got booted off the team for Mr. Businessman.
I bet I'll get a little respect once I get that Harvard diploma.
Look at that. All the way to the end with only one push.
That's the third game in a row he cost us, Homer.
Mamma mia.! Hoot, mon!
Yee-haw! Arr, me mateys. Arr.
Whoo! They begged me to join their team- begged me.
Well, we certainly got walloped tonight, eh, fellas?
Uh, Mr. Burns, next week is the big championship game.
Ah, yes, that silly championship.
The only ship worth a damn is friendship.
Look. Here comes the "friend ship" sailing your way.
Ooh, here. Let me get that, friend.
Oops. Lost a nail. Well, that's leprosy for you.
Now you are the one who is it. Understood.
Well, I've gotta hand it to you, Seymour. These drab student coverings... have created the perfect distraction-free environment... thus preparing the children for permanent positions in tomorrow's mills... and processing facilities.
Best of all, with less than a minute to go before I leave... absolutely nothing has gone wrong.
Well, it is starting to rain, but I could hardly be blamed for that, can I?
Yes. Very good.
Wow! Look at all the colors, man!
Red, green, yellow, orange! I remember all of these!
I'm freaking out!
Hey, something's comin' back to me!
Down with homework! And down with uniforms.!
Ow, ow, ow, ow! Skinner... why aren't these uniforms colorfast?
I don't understand it. I got them at the same place I buy Mother's dresses, and-
Good Lord! Mother's in the park! This I've gotta see.
Oh, Marge, we were so close to winning the championship.
Now, thanks to Burns, it's never gonna happen.
And I spent so much time building that trophy case.
Homer, maybe Mr. Burns will bowl a great game, and you will win your championship.
So you're saying we're definitely gonna win? Whoo-hoo!
I won't need this anymore.
Marge, someone broke the toilet.
Don't worry about nothin', Homer. I have a feeling... that Mr. Burns is gonna have a little accident that might keep him... from bowlin' with us tonight, heh, heh, heh.
Smithers, I'm afraid I won't be able to play tonight.
My old gimpy knee has gone akimbo again.
Take that! Ooh!
Smithers, that precision assault popped it back into place. Thank you, masked stranger!
D'oh! He's gonna ruin everything! All right. That's it, Homer.
Either Burns goes, or Moe goes.
Yes, I am afraid that I am going to have to make a similar threat... with my name in place of Moe's name.
So, who's ready to kick some Christian keister?
Oh, uh, Mr. Burns, as team captain... it's my duty to inform you that-
Ooh, I almost forgot! I brought you all a little something.
Aww, would you look at that? The "Pin Pals. "
At last, I finally have a garment fine enough to be married in.
I've always been wealthy, but this is the first time I ever felt... rich.
Aww. Now, Homer, you were about to say something to me.
You're off the team. What?
He's just ribbin' ya, Monty.
Had you going there. Guys.
Hey, hey, hey!
Nice one, Homer. Thanks.
Okay. The Holy Rollers are ahead by one pin... and we only have one bowler left: Mr. Burns.
Well, next time, a few steps more toward center, don't you think?
Ooh. Whatever I got ahold of is big.
Whoo-hoo! We won! We won!
You mean, I won. But we were a team, sir.
Oh, I'm afraid I've had one of my trademark changes of heart.
You see, teamwork will only take you so far.
Then the truly evolved person makes that extra grab for personal glory.
Now I must discard my teammates, much like the boxer must shed roll after roll... of sweaty, useless, disgusting flab before he can win the title.
Ta. I guess some people never change.
Or they quickly change and then quickly change back.
You know what? We don't need him or his trophy.
We got each other, huh? Yeah, yeah. That's right, Moe. Aww.
Go, Homer, you're our man! If you can't do it, nobody can!
No! Oh, God!
Well, I guess no one can. Run, before they're through feeding!
No.! Oh, God.!