♪ The Simpsons ♪
-(chalk screeches) -(bell rings)
(work whistle blows)
-(sucking) -(register beeping)
(jazzy solo)
(tires screech)
D'oh!
-Aah! -(tires screech)
ANNOUNCER (on TV): Live, from Mount Splashmore,
the tri-county area's funnest water recreation facility,
it's "The Krusty the Clown Show."
-Hey, kids! -(cheering)
You know, today's the last day of our special week
on location at fabulous Mount Splashmore.
And I just want to say the people here
have been super to me and Sideshow Mel.
-(horn squeaks) -The food, the grog...
Oh, they threw us a brunch yesterday
with fresh fruit and the most delicious melon.
Oh, we ate till we plotzed. And of course, the thing I'm gonna miss most
is those special, special Mount Splashmore water slides.
God bless 'em. So much fun, so many memories. Excuse me a minute.
-It has been a great week, hasn't it Lise? -(sighs)
I hope all you kids come out this weekend and really pack this place
just to show 'em how grateful I am.
I told them you would. Don't make me a liar. (laughs)
Okay, kids it's time to...
Yeah!
-(crowd cheering) -(Krusty laughing)
This is a rather shameless promotion.
-Hey, it worked on me. -Me too.
(snoring)
-Will you take us to Mount Splashmore? -No.
-Will you take us to Mount Splashmore? -No!
-Will you take us to Mount Splashmore? -No.
-Will you take us to Mount Splashmore? -No!
-Will you take us to Mount Splashmore? -No.
-Will you take us to Mount Splashmore? -(screams) No! No!
-Will you take us to Mount Splashmore? -No! No!
If I take you, will you two shut up and quit bugging me?
-Yeah. -Of course.
-Well? -Will you take us to Mount Splashmore?
-(screaming) Yes! -BOTH: Thanks, Dad.
(horn blares)
Come on, Homer, get the lead out!
(horn honking)
-(groaning) -(honking continues)
Oh, gee...
Homer, that suit doesn't leave much to the imagination.
(inhales deeply, groans)
-(horn blares) -Heads up, kids. I'm moving the seat back.
It is back.
(tires squeal)
(screaming)
All right, everybody stick together.
We don't want to get separ-- D'oh!
MAN (on speaker): Challenge the raging waters of death.
Dare to discover what water is really made of:
H2whoa!
-Whoa. -Whoa.
All right! No line.
BART: Ay, caramba.
Okay, Lise, turn on the waterworks, babe.
Mommy!
-I want my Mommy! -BART: Step aside, come on.
Spread out, spread out. Lost kid comin' through.
Look out, fatso. Coming through, coming through.
Pardon me. Moving to the front of the line.
-(wailing) -Hey, Lise, nice work, babe.
No, Maggie, stay in the shallow end.
To hell with this.
Slide inspector coming through.
Please move to the right. Grab the handrail, young man.
Out of my way! I'm here for your safety.
God bless that man.
(crowd grumbling)
(screams)
Bitchin'!
(laughing)
(thud)
Hey! What?
Come on, you stupid tube.
(alarm buzzing)
Hmm, looks like there's a jam in Delta Sector.
Hmm. Well, it's too big to be human.
Well, send down a few kids. That should dislodge it.
MAN (on radio): Keep 'em coming, Biff.
Roger.
(kids laughing)
(kids screaming happily)
(Homer screaming)
(kids screaming in terror)
(thudding)
HOMER: D'oh! Can't... breathe.
-Too many... children. -(thudding continues)
(scattered boos)
Eyewitnesses estimate the man's weight
at somewhere between 400 and 500 pounds.
And now on the lighter side of the news,
-and I use the term loosely. (chuckles) -D'oh!
-(reporters shouting) -No, the slide is perfectly safe.
-This was an isolated incident. -I understand that, Krusty.
But, Krusty, isn't that exactly what you said
right before the recall of tainted Krusty brand mayonnaise?
Now, Kent you know that question is out of bounds.
This interview's over. This interview's over.
All right, family. I want the truth.
Don't pull any punches.
Am I just a little bit overweight?
-Well, am I? -Forgive us, Dad,
but it takes time to properly sugarcoat a response.
Ohh!
Oh, 437! What?
Fifty-five? Oh, my God!
Three hundred and... What's this-- 150?
Ah! Oh. Ah! Oh.
Oh, my God! It's 260 pounds!
I'm a big fat pig!
Now, Homer, you do have big bones.
Marge, no one gains 30 pounds of bone.
(breathing heavily) I'm going on a diet.
From this day forward,
I pledge there will be no pork chop too succulent,
no doughnut too tasty,
no pizza too laden with delicious topping,
to prevent me from reaching
my scientifically determined ideal weight.
As God is my witness, I'll always be hungry again!
(stomach gurgling)
D'oh! Shut up!
This old attic's kind of spooky, isn't it, boy?
I said, isn't it, boy?
-(switch clicks) -Ahh!
(stammers)
Don't ever do that to me again.
-Okay. -D'oh! Bart!
(cries out) Get away from that thing
and help me find my athletic equipment.
-(mouse squeaks) -Hmm.
Hey, Homer, I found your weights.
Oh, the glutemus maximizer.
Hey! Who's the mop top with the big schnozz?
Don't you know anything, boy? That's Ringo Starr.
What is this?
Hey, your mother must have painted this.
I guess she thought he was kinda cute.
What? Hey!
What the--
Marge!
No, Homer.
Don't be jealous. I was a schoolgirl.
The Beatles were very popular, and I had a crush on them.
Likely story.
Oh, why did I have to start my diet
on pork chop night?
Now Homer, we've got steamed vegetables
and rice cakes for you.
(shudders) Well, wait a minute.
Well, hey, I've been setting my drinks on these things.
Well, they're only 35 calories apiece.
Hello? Hello?
Hello, taste? Where are you?
You can put a little something on top for flavor.
Hey, hey, now you're talking.
Hey, Mom! These paintings are good.
While I know firsthand how fragile young talent is,
I'd love to hear the particulars of how your gift was squashed.
(groans) Well...
(scoffs) No, not another portrait
of that bongo-beating Liverpudlian.
But Mr. Schindler, I--
Someone might have used this canvas
to create a masterpiece.
Instead, you've soiled it forever.
-Now, this is art. -Thank you, Mr. Schindler.
LISA: Oh, Mom, I can't believe you gave up painting
because of one small-minded art teacher.
MARGE: I was so upset, I decided to send the portrait
to the only man on Earth whose opinion I could really trust.
LISA: And what was Ringo's response?
Mmm, I never got any, and I never painted again.
Maybe you could take a class at Springfield Community College.
I think it's a very nice idea.
-Don't you, Homer? -Do I have to do anything?
-No. -Great! Fine!
-Go nuts! Hee-hee-hee. -(timer dings)
-Mmm! Only 35 calories. -(groans)
Oh, hello, Mrs. Homer.
Apu, what are you doing here?
I've just enrolled in the screenwriting class.
I yearn to tell the story of an idealistic young Hindu
pushed too far by convenience store bandits.
I call it "Hands Off My Jerky, Turkey."
-Clever title. -Oh, thank you.
Actually my brother Sanjay thought of it.
-Next up. -My mother would like to enroll
in "Painting From Life" 2-B, please.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Not so fast there, pint-size.
I'm afraid no one can enroll until Professor Lombardo
personally inspects and approves their portfolio.
-Lisa, this was a bad idea. -Mom!
Ah, very good. Fabulous!
Ah, even better.
You have real talent.
Hmm. Do you really think so?
My high school art teacher hated them.
What? The man was a fool.
But still, one must admire the force of his conviction.
-Then I'm in the class? -Oh, my dear,
there couldn't be a class without you.
Now, if you'll excuse me, nature calls.
Marvelous!
(straining) Stupid weights.
The heavy hands don't work unless you move, Homer.
I can't move, boy.
Oh, really?
(grunting) Oh!
Now, using the Lombardo method,
you learn to see everyday objects
as a simple grouping of geometrical shapes.
Here, we see how two concentric circles
various trapezoids, ellipsis--
and yes, even a rhombus--
can create an adorable little bunny rabbit.
It's just that easy!
(groaning)
(straining)
♪ Lincoln, Lincoln, I've been thinkin' ♪
♪ What the hell have you been drinkin'? ♪
♪ Is it water, is it wine? ♪
♪ Oh, my gosh, it's turpentine ♪
-(both cheering) -Go! Go! Go!
♪♪
(cat screeching)
Bravo!
Walk away from it. Now it belongs to the ages.
You. Not another stroke.
Oh, well, maybe one more. That's it! Perfect!
Mmm... indeed.
Marge, you find the inner beauty
of your subject and bring it out for all to see.
Well, thank you, Professor Lombardo.
Well, you're welcome, my dear.
-(quietly) Marge, walk with me. -(Marge groans)
Marge, they've asked me
to submit the best painting from my class
to the Springfield Art Exhibition next week.
I've decided to choose your Bald Adonis.
Really? You're so supportive.
I wish every teacher was like you.
Marge, please, I don't take praise very well!
Oh! Another triumph!
Hmm.
Yeah.
-I can't believe it! -(applause)
-Yeah! -Go Mom!
-All right! -Whoo-hoo!
I'm a work of art!
"Last Supper," eat your heart out.
-(kissing) -(camera shutters clicking)
Garbage!
What matchbook art school did you flunk out of?
You ham-fisted nearsighted house painter!
Smithers, throw this on the dung heap.
I'm sorry. This isn't working out. I quit.
-Well, Smithers, -(door slams)
I guess that's what you call your artistic temperament.
Sir, I must remind you that the dedication
of the Burns Wing of the museum is only six days away.
Damnation, Smithers. This idea of yours to immortalize me
in a portrait was as half-baked
as your idea about me having children.
Smithers, find me an artist.
Sir, I'm afraid you've systematically alienated
Springfield's entire art community.
The only one left is this Mrs. Homer Simpson.
-Who? -Well, she won first prize
in the Springfield Art Fair, and is the wife of an employee.
-She'll be easily intimidated. -Excellent.
Once again, the wheel has turned,
and dame fortune has hugged Montgomery Burns
to her sweet, perfumed bosom.
Somebody up there likes me, Smithers.
SMITHERS: Somebody down here likes you too, sir.
BURNS: Shut up!
♪♪ (Western showdown music)
D'oh! Whoo!
D'oh! Whoo-hoo! D'oh! Whoo-hoo!
Whoo-hoo!
249! Yeah! Wa! Wa! Wa!
Marge! Marge! Look at me.
My clothes are just hanging off me.
That's wonderful, isn't it, kids?
Pass the moo juice.
Kids, remember what I told you about showing a little support?
-Way to go, Dad! -You look mah-velous.
Oh, what a family.
Hey, what gives?
These doughnuts are piling up.
Huh. Yeah, Homer Simpson went on a diet.
Oh, my God, and I just bought a boat.
(straining)
(tap)
Well, don't people answer the door these days?
Allow me, sir.
Open up! Open up!
Mr. Burns. Oh, would you like to come in?
Mr. Burns would like to commission you to do a portrait of him.
Have you ever painted the rich and powerful?
Well, no. Just Ringo Starr.
Ring-go?
He was the drummer for a rock and roll combo
called The Beatles, sir.
Beatles, eh? Oh, yes. I seem to remember
their off-key caterwauling on the old Sullivan show.
What was Ed thinking?
Mrs. Simpson, this commission
and all of its glory can be yours
but first you must look me straight in the eye
and answer one simple question.
-Okay, shoot. -Can you make me beautiful?
Hmm. Well, I don't think that will be a problem.
I'm no matinee idol, you know.
Well, maybe not, but I have the gift
of being able to see inner beauty.
Hmm. Mrs. Simpson, you may immortalize me.
Ah, sir,
at last the world will see you as I always have.
Yes, yes, yes. Now, don't be stingy with the blush, Smithers.
There. There.
Now, you-- paint!
(groaning)
Honey, I'm home.
Oh, there's an original sentiment.
(screams)
Take it outside, Simpson.
I'm male modeling.
I'm painting his portrait, Homer.
(laughing) Isn't that wonderful?
My work and my home life come together
in such a nice way.
Marge, may I see you in the other room?
Honey, he's nuts. He thinks he's handsome.
Please, you've got to make him look handsome.
Please, please, please, please, please, please, please.
Now, Homer, don't worry.
All I need to do is find Mr. Burns' inner beauty.
Ohh! Okay.
Hmm. What were you like as a boy, Mr. Burns?
Did you have a dog that you loved?
Well... (cries out)
There's something on my leg! Get it off! Get it off!
-Mr. Burns, she's just a baby. -BURNS: Ugh!
All right, all right.
Who took the funny pages?
So Ziggy goes to the repair shop,
and there's a sign on the doorbell reading
-"Out of order." -(chuckles)
Ah, Ziggy, will you ever win?
(humming tune)
-Oh, my! -If you'll excuse me,
I'm changing for a board meeting.
I'm so sorry, Mr. Burns.
Hey, Mom, did he have those spots all over his body?
-I heard that. -Oops.
Would you feel more comfortable if I left, too, sir?
Of course not, Smithers. You're... you're like a doctor.
(kettle whistling)
BURNS: Smithers, I want my tea!
Doesn't it bother you that he orders you around like that?
(chuckles) Actually, I value every second we're together
from the moment I squeeze his orange juice in the morning
till I tuck him in at night.
He's not just my boss. He's my best friend, too.
Bah! Too hot!
You're right, sir.
It's scalding me as we speak.
(gasps, grumbles)
Dear Sally.
In response to your letter of December 12, 1966,
me favorite color is blue,
and me real first name is Richard.
-(bell dings) -Thanks for the snapshot.
-You're a real cute bird. Love, Ringo. -(bell dinging)
P.S. Forgive the lateness of my reply.
-Mr. Starr, tea and crumpets. -Just set it over there.
Sir, if you'll forgive an old Brit his impertinence,
your devotion to your fans is nothing short of remarkable.
Well, Weatherby, they took the time to write me,
and I don't care if it takes me another 20 years.
I'm going to answer every one of them.
Hello. What's this?
From Springfield, U.S.A.
Gear.
♪♪
Will you cease that infernal tootling?
-I was just practicing. -(groans)
Mr. Burns, it's hard to discover your inner beauty
while you're shouting at an eight-year-old girl.
We've only got two days left, so I'd advise you to shut up and paint!
(groans)
All right scale,
you don't like me and I don't like you,
but I've been very good, so you'd better treat me right.
All right! Whoa-ho-ho!
Whoo! Whoo!
Marge, I'm 239 and I'm feeling fine.
Look, I'm using the original notches that came with my belt.
That's wonderful, Homer. I'm so proud of--
Let me get this straight.
You're pleased with your current appearance?
(laughs) Why, my good man,
you're the fattest thing I've ever seen
-and I've been on safari. -(chuckling)
(crying) If you need me, I'll be in the refrigerator.
-(sobbing) -(groaning)
Mr. Burns, I've had enough of your posing.
I can finish the portrait myself.
Thank goodness. Another day in this suburban nightmare,
and I would have needed half a white Valium.
Thank you for your gracious hospitality.
See you at the unveiling.
(whistling)
(gasps) Homer, what are you doing? Give me that!
No, Burns is right. What's the use?
Don't you listen to him. He's just a mean, little S.O.B.
Oh, Marge.
I thought there was some good in everybody
-until I met him. -Yeah, well,
just as long as you paint a nice picture of him by noon tomorrow.
-I don't think I can. -What?
Marge, you have to!
I can't make that man beautiful!
I'm just not good enough.
I guess I'm no artist.
Hmm. Hello. What's this?
It's for you, Marge, from merry old England.
"From the desk of Ringo Starr."
RINGO: "Dear Marge.
"Thanks for the fab painting of yours truly.
"I hung it on me wall.
"You're quite an artist.
"In answer to your question--
"Yes, we do have hamburgers and fries in England,
"but we call french fries 'chips.'
"Love, Ringo.
P.S. Forgive the lateness of my reply."
-Ooh! -Come on, Marge, paint.
I think you can do it.
Okay, Homer, if you think I can.
RINGO: ♪ Got to pay your dues if you want to sing the blues ♪
♪ And you know it don't come easy ♪
♪ You don't have to shout or leap about ♪
♪ You can even play them easy ♪
(chamber music playing)
(playing "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow")
Friends, art lovers, security personnel,
today is a red letter day
for the Springfield Palace of Fine Arts.
A new wing for our museum, ooh, and a portrait
commemorating the man who ponied up the dough.
Ladies and gentlemen, may I invite you
to behold Montgomery Burns.
(straining)
Smithers.
-(crowd gasps) -(glass shatters)
-Oh. -D'oh!
I don't care for this at all.
Um... hello.
My name is Marge Simpson, and I painted this.
Maybe you'd like to know what possessed me to do it.
Well, I guess I wanted to show
that beneath Mr. Burns' fearsome head
with its cruel lips, spiteful tongue
and evil brain,
there was a frail, withered body,
perhaps not long for this world,
as vulnerable and beautiful as any of God's creatures.
-(applause) -Hmm?
-MAN: Yes! Oh! -(whistling)
Provocative but, uh, powerful.
He's bad, but he'll die.
So I like it.
Hmm...
Marge, a word, please.
You know, I'm no art critic
but I know what I hate, and I don't hate this.
Your painting is bold but beautiful
and, incidentally,
thanks for not making fun of my genitalia.
I thought I did.
♪♪
Shh!
CAPTIONS ENHANCED BY ROUNDABOUT ENTERTAINMENT INC.