CHORUS SINGS: ♪ The Simpsons ♪
(school bell rings)
(whistle blows)
(beeping)
(playing the blues)
(tires screeching)
D’oh!
(screams)
(tires screeching)
(medieval folklore music playing)
♪ ♪
KRUSTY: Hey, hey, kids!
It’s a beautiful, sunny Saturday morning.
So get ready for six hours of cartoons!
(goofy laugh)
Today’s Krusty’s Korean Kartoon Kavalcade starts
with an exciting adventure of "The Trans-Clown-O-Morphs."
♪ Trans-Clown-O-Morphs ♪
♪ Transforming clowns that morph ♪
♪ Sent to Earth to defeat the evil Dino-Robo-Bots ♪
♪ Trans-Clown-O-Morphs ♪
♪ Transforming clowns that morph ♪
♪ And their human friend is you ♪
Back off, Pterodactyl-bots.
You’ll never conquer Big Top City.
Oh, really?
It’s time to make you Trans-Clown-O-Morphs extinct.
Oh, no!
Only my Saturday morning viewers can save me!
Buy my cereal,
find the secret code inside
and text me the message "start the day with Kellogg’s"
or I will die.
Enough from you!
(grunts)
Hurry!
Guess no one’s buying my cereal.
Buy or I’ll die.
Mom, we need to throw out all this Krusty cereal
and get Robot Clown cereal!
Every week we have to buy something else
to save that transforming clown that morphs.
I want you to watch a show
that isn’t just one long commercial.
ANNOUNCER: Justin Leonard lines up the putt.
This is for par and a share of sixth place.
Mom, we need a Callaway titanium
perimeter-weighted driver!
It adds yards to any swing.
(groans) You two have been bombarded
with enough commercial images.
Lisa, I’ve got a big bunch of black bananas.
You know what that means.
Banana bread!
And Bart, you go with your father to Shelbyville
to get the beanbag chairs re-beaned.
Oh, no, I hate the beanbag store.
The clerks are always shouting in Hebrew on their cell phones.
So Dean Martin would
show up at the last minute and do everything
-in just one take? -That’s right.
But Wikipedia said he was "passionate about rehearsal."
Don’t you worry about Wikipedia.
We’ll change it when we get home.
We’ll change a lot of things.
Hey, check it out!
I wouldn’t mind driving that over a prairie dog village.
Honk to the driver!
(honking)
(horn tooting)
Martin?! What’s a tool like you
doing on something cool like that?
Yeah, what’s the deal, loser?
I’m operating a Combine Harvester.
It’s part of my duties as a member of 4-H.
4-H Club? Is it dangerous?
Indeed, it has the most finger loss
of any youth organization.
Can I join, Dad? Can I? Can I? Can I?
Son, a lot of these youth organizations
encourage parents to get involved in the activities.
-Not this one. -Sold!
See ya.
"I pledge my head to clearer thinking,
my heart to greater loyalty,
my hands.." oh, man,
how many "H’s" does this thing have?
Yeah, there’s a bunch.
Let’s skip the oath and, uh,
get you behind the wheel of something you can’t handle.
♪ ♪
Raise articulator, set hydraulic brakes
and endorse farm subsidy check
for crops I didn’t grow.
♪ ♪
Okay, 4-H-ers,
here’s your summer project:
pick a calf and raise him up big, strong
and, of course, God-fearing.
And at the end of the summer,
the best calf wins a blue ribbon.
I want a tough one.
(gruntin) Whoa!
I didn’t come here today expecting to fall in love.
Hmm.
Hey, it’s the runt.
I’ll take anything but the runt.
(mooing)
Aww... looks like we’re partners.
You’re a scrappy little misfit, just like me.
Anyone want to trade?
No reasonable offer refused.
I’ll take a chicken.
(Ralph grunting)
Pullet, Bantam, Orpington,
Pullet, Flemish Giant,
-Pullet, Leghorn... -Keep it down!
I’m trying to feed my runt.
Here, I’ll show you what to do.
All right, I get it, I get it.
By the way, I’m Mary.
I’m Bart. This is my calf, Lulubelle.
Uh, you know that’s a boy, right?
Oh, I thought she was peeing out of her nipple.
How ’bout you just call him "Lou"?
That’s great. It rhymes "moo."
♪ ♪
(crowing)
So what do you think of my calf?
Now son, I’m not here to judge.
(whispers): Actually, yes, you are.
Eh, what? Oh, right, I am.
Well, I don’t know much about cows,
but I think we have a winner!
(applause)
You’re the greatest cow in the world!
I’m going to be your friend forever.
Bart, you do know what happens next?
Something happens next?
Son, your calf is going to be taken to a feedlot...
Lots of feed-- that sounds good.
...then slaughtered.
But he won!
Why don’t you kill the loser cows?
Oh, we will,
but your cow gets to go first.
Mom, they’re going to kill Lou
and make him into food and fringe vests for gay cowboys.
Can we buy him back? Can we?
(groans)
Aw, honey, we’d love to,
but a prizewinning bull is thousands of dollars.
Oh, man.
Son, let this be a lesson:
never work hard and don’t form emotional attachments.
Also, don’t be a cow.
(mooing)
Lou?
(mooing continues)
Oh, man, now I feel so bad I’m imagining I hear your voice.
(mooing angrily)
Leave me alone!
It’s not my fault there’s nothing good to eat
on this planet except meat!
(mooing continues)
I can’t help you!
I’m just a little boy!
(sobbing)
Bart, are you all right?
I hear Lou mooing in my head.
What you heard was your conscience
telling you to stop eating meat.
If I could save Lou, I’d never eat meat again.
Not even prosciutto and melon!
(pounding, chicken clucking)
"Anguished Animals III"?
That wasn’t my conscience mooing, it was...
Tress MacNeille!
(chuckles sheepishly)
All right, so I put that there
to get you to stop eating meat.
But your body is going to miss the protein,
so you’ll have to take these pills.
Sorry, Lis.
I can’t be a vegetarian.
I love the taste of death.
But please, help me get my cow back.
Okay, meet me halfway.
Stop stirring your lemonade with a sausage.
(groans): Give me a minute.
-Come on. -(groans)
-It’s a no-brainer. -Okay.
Aw, man, I never figured the gate would be locked.
It’s like they knew we were coming.
Don’t worry; I called some animal activists
who can help us get in.
I’ll just give the signal.
Milk is murder.
Cheese is genocide.
Good to see you, Windsong.
-Windsong? -Yeah, it’s my code name.
This is Compost and this is Solar Panel.
What’s my code name?
(all murmuring)
Lisa’s Brother.
(groans)
Forgive us for this violation, Mother Fence.
We honor your chain-link spirit.
Lou.
Lou, where are you, little buddy?
(moos)
Lou, what happened to you?
You got fat.
Of course he did.
His food is laced with growth hormones.
I don’t care how much of a pumped-up freak you are.
I still love you.
The way Barry Bonds’ kids probably still love him.
(straining): Come on. Come on.
How we going to get him out of here?
(gasps)
Wow, you did learn a lot at 4-H.
Hell, yeah.
(moos)
That was a practice cow.
(all mooing)
(mooing)
What are we going to do with him?
Well, your friend Mary from 4-H lives on a farm.
Lou can stay with her.
Hmm, a cow on a farm.
With a moo-moo here and a moo-moo there...
Yes, it works.
All right, Lou, to freedom!
Lou?
(bored mooing)
(backup warning beeping)
Howdy, what’s yours that mine’s is Cletus?
-Huh? -He wants to know your name.
Oh, I’m Bart Simpson.
Is Mary here?
Hang on.
Hey, Mary, there’s a boy here askin’ on you!
Hey, Bart.
I didn’t know Cletus was your dad.
She had a regular city birth in a gas station.
The feedlot wants to kill Lou and I can’t keep him.
-Can I give him to you? -(gasps)
Oh!
Brandine, a young feller just offered Mary a cow!
Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God!
What’s going on?
According to the traditions of the hill folk,
by giving our daughter a cow,
you’ve made a formal proposal of marriage.
Huh?
(gasps)
This calls for a hoedown.
Blow her a song of love.
(blows notes repeatedly)
Whoa, I said love, not lust.
I can’t get married.
I’m only ten.
And I have dreams. I got 1580 on my DQAT.
DQAT?
Dairy Queen Aptitude Test.
800 ice cream, 780 Brazier.
Bart, I’ll find a way to get you out of this wedding.
In the meantime, just say yes, so Lou will be safe.
Look how happy he is.
I wished I had a tail what did swap away flies.
Mine just hangs there.
(gulps)
All right, sir, I’ll marry your daughter.
We’re gonna have us
the fanciest wedding in the county.
Cletus, open up a wall so Dia-Betty can come.
Oh, just bring ’em to a window, so I can pinch ’em.
We always figured someday Mary would marry.
That’s why we called her Mary.
We name all our kids after what we think’s gonna happen to ’em.
Ain’t that right, Stabbed-in-jail?
We’ll see who stabs who.
♪ Doot de-doo de-doo doo-de de-doo. ♪
(gasps)
Strained spinach?
I’m not going to eat that.
It’s yucky.
Yo, I’m the coolest puppet in Sockville,
and I love strained spinach.
Really?
I guess I’ll try it then.
(chewing loudly)
Mmm, I wonder if Maggie would like it.
Mom, Dad!
Bart’s marrying one of Cletus’ daughters.
We’re putting a stop to this right now.
Wait.
If you stop the wedding, Bart’s cow will die,
and he really cares about that cow
and Bart doesn’t usually care about stuff, so help.
Hmm... all right, I’ve got an idea,
but it’ll take a lot of sewing.
-I’ll get your fabrics. -And I’ll make sure
Flanders doesn’t bother us.
-(grunts) -Ow! What was that for?
Bart’s in trouble and we don’t need your stupid comments.
(chuckling): Zippin’ it up.
(jug band playing)
Okay, let’s set up the chitlin bar over here.
Uh, start drizzling the crawdad reduction on the possum pouches.
And excuse me,
why are the spittoons so far from the chaw station?
This is a wedding, people, not a funeral.
Here you go, sweetheart.
Something old...
...something new,
something burrowed,
and something stew.
Mama, you know I love your somethin’ stew,
but I got no appetite for any of this.
Aw...
you just got cold feet...
’cause you’re barefoot and our floor’s made of mud.
Have you seen my sister?
No, and she’s cutting it pretty close.
We’re about ten minutes away from "You may kiss the bride."
Kiss?!
I thought we were just getting married.
Do you, Bart Simpson, take Mary Wrestlemania Spuckler
to be your lawful wedded wife
for as long as you both shall reckon?
(gulps)
I do.
And since we don’t need to hear from womenfolk
what they think, I now pronounce you...
MARGE: Stop the wedding!
(all gasp)
Bart is a ten-year-old boy.
He still sits in the driveway and pretends to drive the car.
(all laughing)
Mom, I have to do this.
I love that big ol’ cow.
How could you say that?
I starved myself to get into this dress.
No, no, no, no, no, you look great, honey.
Mom, if I don’t get married, they’ll take Lou.
I’m sorry, Bart,
but sometimes your mom knows best.
Son, I’m afraid hillbilly law is clear.
If this marriage is off,
then that cow is going back to the feedlot,
and Mary must taste the bitter agony
of being an old maid of 11.
Don’t feel bad, sweetie.
I was 13 when I married your father.
Yeah, and you’d already been divorced four times.
Good-bye, Lou.
I’ll never forget you.
(moos)
Mom, how could you do this to me?
Sweetie, don’t you think
your mom might have a trick up her sleeve?
No.
Trust me.
HOMER: D’oh! I mean, moo!
Okay, they bought it.
Have you got Lou in your car?
Roger that.
(bumper scraping road)
You guys come and get me as soon as they dump me in the feedlot.
Huh?
Ooh, "Laughter House."
With the world in the shape it’s in,
we could all use some comedy.
Okay, have fun at the Laughter House.
Now I’ll just turn off my phone to save the battery.
Great plan, Mom.
But where is Lou going to go?
Don’t worry, Bart.
In India, your cow will be treated like a god
and receive the food and medical care
that in America would go to human beings.
(moos)
Lou,
if that plane leaves the ground and you’re not on it,
you’ll regret it.
Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon,
and definitely after they kill you
and make you into sloppy joes.
Here’s looking at you, cud.
Okay, Lisa, I’m turning my phone back on
to see if your father is ready to be picked up.
Huh, I have over 400 text messages.
-(machinery clicking and pounding) -Ready... for... pickup.
Ready... for... pickup.
I’m a human being!
Let me go!
(groans)
FEMALE VOICE: You are now entering the killing floor.
Hmm, that sounds like Tress MacNeille.
(screaming)
Marge, kids, the things I saw.
It makes me never want to eat meat again.
Just fish, chicken, burgers, veal on Fridays,
deer, but only in season;
and if necessary, the sweetest meat of all: human.
For you, Dad, I consider that a victory.
You’re in a better place now, Lou,
and I’ll always be proud that for once in my life,
I had a cow, man.
Captioned by VISUAL DATA
Shh.
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