-(marching band playing) -(crowd cheering)
Happy Parade Day!
It's the Parade Day Parade.
(horns honking)
Clear the roadway!
Your antics inconvenience hundreds.
Hooray for parades!
Your antics delight one and all.
Follow me, Little Lord Ralph.
What's hiding behind the Great Green Wall?
A choo choo? Some buttons?
A dog ten feet tall?
♪ ♪
Hmm-hmm.
(gasps) My eyes told me a secret.
(school bell rings)
Aw, last day of school.
Lot of fond memories in here.
-Furnace. -On it.
I know what's behind the Big Hedge,
because I went behind the Big Hedge
and I saw what's behind the Big Hedge
and now I'm gonna tell you. Yay!
The Big Hedge? As in the Big Hedge?
No one knows what's behind that thing.
Although, a seventh grader once told me
it was naked ladies setting off fireworks.
I heard it's where divorced parents go to get back together.
No, sir. It's where they hold the Independent Spirit Awards.
If you call that independent.
No, it's the best playground ever.
There's Easter eggs and baby cars that anyone can drive.
And this many clowns in clown pants.
(chuckles) Dang, that's hella clowns.
-(raccoon chitters) -How the crotch
do we get through that thing?
I've seen my dad do this.
(birds chirping)
-Wow! -OTHERS: Whoa!
See? Easter eggs, clown pants and baby cars.
I love you, clowns.
There's a golf course in the middle of Springfield?
NELSON: What's golf?
I've never seen a golf course anywhere,
except those commercials for pills
that give old people their life back.
-Duckies! -(ducks quacking)
I'm gonna go steal their wet bread.
Whoa, I've never seen Jimbo looking so sharp.
Is he bullying rich guys now?
Fine round today, sir.
You know, I hope to be a doctor myself.
It's always been my dream to work around blood.
(laughs)
Well, maybe this will help with medical school.
Whoa. 20 bucks.
(Jimbo chuckles)
What the hell, Jimbo? You just suck up to that guy
and he gives you money?
It's not sucking up.
Rich guys love hearing how great they are,
and they're willing to pay for it.
Money pay.
Mwah.
Look away, pervs.
We'd like jobs, please.
Well, you seem a little young, but I do need the help.
I'm out several of my best caddies
due to an elaborate virginity-losing wager.
Here are your first assignments.
You know, I've never really sucked up to anyone before.
Sure, I've lied, scammed, grifted,
but this feels different.
Special.
Well, I'm a Van Houten.
Watch and learn.
Dang! Looks like I got the handsomest golfer
in the whole damn club.
-(shudders) -(groans)
You fine, boy.
Hmm, you're new.
Uh, that's why they assigned me to you.
The best way to learn the course
is by watching a master carve it up
like a Thanksgiving turkey.
Hmm.
That does sound
like something they would say.
(chuckles) Let's play some golf.
Whew.
(grunting)
Wait till my friends hear I caddied
for Kent "The Straight Dope" Brockman.
We watch you every night.
Really? I thought youngsters got their news from the Internet.
Pfft. No way. My boys think broadcast news is the swagness.
And the girls call you "a snack."
Hope it's okay for me to use the current lingo.
The snack will allow it.
Stacy and I, well, it's, uh...
it's complicated.
Isn't it always?
She's a terrific person and a top-notch meteorologist.
But if I'm dodging her calls after three months...
I think you've already made up your mind.
You just don't want to admit it, 'cause you're a kind person.
Mm. Guilty as charged.
You da man!
Muzzle your nonsense, imbecile!
Said da man.
This is "The Straight Dope,"
thanking you for a wonderful round.
BART: This is it. The moment of truth.
Did I kiss enough butt?
Only money will tell.
(shudders)
I thought all money was the same.
But the best money is peeled off a wad.
♪ Cash rules everything around me ♪
♪ C.R.E.A.M., get the money ♪
♪ Dollar dollar bill, y'all ♪
♪ Cash rules everything around me ♪
♪ C.R.E.A.M., get the money ♪
♪ Dollar dollar bill, y'all ♪
♪ Cash rules everything around me ♪
♪ C.R.E.A.M., get the money ♪
♪ Dollar dollar bill, y'all ♪
♪ Cash rules everything around me ♪
♪ C.R.E.A.M., get the money. ♪
There's my number-one son.
Come sit next to your proud papa, workin' man.
We're all proud of you.
I'm sure Bart will learn a lot
carrying a bag of sticks from place to place.
They're called golf bats, Lis.
Nice starter wad.
You want to see what I'm rolling with?
Whoa! That rubber band is just straining.
Can I hold it?
Hey, be careful with that.
-Whoa! -(moans)
No-static dryer sheets?
You pad your wad?
(gasping)
I'm not the father you thought you married.
(crying)
Look, Maggie.
Your brother is doing a job.
Aren't you proud of him?
Aren't you? (chuckles)
Want to sneak a peek?
...and in the end, everyone lost money but me.
Wow. I've learned so much today,
about golf, life and oil leases.
I wish I had tribal land for you to build a pipeline on.
I'd be honored if you'd frack under my house someday, sir.
Ugh. I've never seen my son... suck up before.
Easy money. Mwah.
You don't kiss all the golfers' butts like that, do you?
Oh, Mom. These rich guys expect a little... (smooching)
in exchange for some... ah.
It's no big deal.
On one hand, I'm glad you're being polite.
On the other hand...
(shudders)
Wow, I never thought of it that way, Mom.
No one looks out for me the way you do.
You are the shining star
that guides this family through the darkness.
Oh, aren't you sweet.
Why don't we stop by the skateboard store on the way home
and I'll buy you... (gasps)
(grumbles)
Suck-up.
(cackling)
So, there we are on the 18th green.
The course has been a bear all morning.
I tell Judge Snyder to shut that all out
and just be in the moment.
-He nods, plants his feet. -(gasps) Mm-hmm?
-And, in one smooth motion... -Mm?
tips me 50 bucks!
(gasps)
Wow. Just... wow.
Why do I suddenly want to bring Bart's car around?
(Bart humming a tune)
Here you go. Buy yourself a bigger tip jar.
(bell dings)
(plays note on harmonica)
♪ Tip's in the jar, grateful we are ♪
♪ Praised be your name, you've raised the game ♪
♪ Some give us zip, it's such a rip ♪
♪ Shame them with song, they're in the wrong ♪
♪ All of the grown-ups in here just... ♪
Doesn't it bother you
that Bart made that money
sucking up to those golfers?
Marge, sucking up is the American way.
In this country, everybody got together
and decided that all the money should belong
to a few dozen families and their favorite suck-ups.
Don't you remember when we all decided that?
-(groans) -And of all the things
that Bart might do for money,
this is by far the most legal.
Other people are paying our son.
And in cash.
It's both aboveboard and under the table.
That's the dream.
Homie, I know it's not logical,
but when I saw Bart at that golf course,
my mothering spirit just wanted to hurl.
Back me up on this one.
Tell our son he has to quit.
Quit being a caddy? No way.
How much did Mom give you to tell me that?
Uh... n-nothing.
Well, I can do better than that.
Will 20 bucks make this go away?
Well, I guess I can tell her I did my best.
Tell her you did your... very best.
Mm-hmm.
Now that you got your own pool,
what are you gonna buy next?
I'm thinking of getting one of those booths
that blows money around.
It pays for itself the first time you get in it.
Bart, no.
That wad is your future.
What you need is a good investment vehicle.
Hmm.
-A vehicle. -Cool! -Whoa!
"Patented Ultra-Freedom BadAss Technology
stops the engine if the driver puts on a helmet."
-Yes! -Yeah!
After you buy it, can we have rides?
Guys, guys, if I shared my death-mobile,
then you wouldn't be motivated to earn wads of your own.
I'm doing this for you.
Yeah, well, you're acting like a butt wad.
(chuckles): Oh, Nelson.
Saying what you really think will get you nowhere.
-Lousy rich kids. -(grumbling, muttering)
-MARTIN: If I had a quad, I'd share my quad. -Lame.
(huffing angrily)
Mm.
(grumbling loudly)
Okay, okay, I'll tell you what's bothering me.
It's Bart's caddy job.
It's gross, right?
You can tell me it's gross.
You think it's gross?
Well, private golf clubs are pretty evil.
Right. They are.
How so?
Wow, look at all these.
Waste of water resources,
pesticide use,
history of sexism and racism...
And Bart's a suck-up.
Not to mention that private clubs
get huge breaks on their property taxes,
which is completely unfair.
Why shouldn't rich people pay their share?
Lisa, we've got to shut down that club.
We're going to city hall.
♪ ♪
(golf ball clacks)
(both grumbling)
-(snarling) -Oh!
Club President Bildorf.
Plays every single day
and never tips less than 100 bucks.
(whistles) Looks like I picked the right summer job.
Mark my words-- his bag will be on my shoulder
before this year's Father-Son
Bingo-Bango-Bongo Best-Ball Scramble.
You know, since school's not in session,
I can finally tell you...
you're awesome.
-Mm... -Hmm? Hmm?
I'll take Simpson.
(chuckles)
Eh, I just won't play.
Mm.
♪ ♪
Okay, Mom. You got to get your voice out there.
Take the cause directly to the people
with an online petition.
I got this.
There.
Now all I need is a catchy title.
(gasps) I got it.
"Stop Coddling
the Springfield Junipers Wealthy."
Whoops, too long. Hmm.
How about "Stop Coddling
the S.J.W.s."
And post.
I wonder if that headline will get any attention.
An online petition attacking our local private golf club
has garnered over one million signatures.
-(both gasp) -One million?
(gasps) Mom,
you used the term "S.J.W."
Yes, I know.
The "Springfield Junipers Wealthy."
No. "S.J.W." stands for "social justice warriors."
That's what right-wing trolls call anyone who cares
about positive social change.
Look at the other online petitions
your "supporters" have backed.
MARGE: Oh, boy.
Um, a signature's a signature?
Thanks to the cranky clicks collected
by local complainer Marge Simpson,
Springfield's golf club will have to pay
a huge property tax increase,
threatening the club's very existence.
In one reporter's unbiased opinion,
closing this par-72 landmark would be a travesty.
One and all would mourn the loss
of this exclusive private green space
and Ramon's famous Bloody Marys.
He uses a golf tee as an olive skewer.
I think it's Ramon.
I finally found something I'm good at,
and you want to ruin it!
You don't know what it's like to bring something into this world,
watch it grow and worry about it day and night.
I love you, Wad.
We're going shopping for rubber bands.
You deserve it.
Simpson, report to the first tee.
You're going to the show.
Yes!
Digitaria sanguinalis.
Tell Tetsuo he's fired.
I think it's Tetsuo.
Mr. Club President?
I'm sorry, for a second there,
I mistook you for a young Pierce Brosnan.
Very young.
Ha.
Spare me, kid. I've heard it all.
Simpson, your mother's campaign is going to bankrupt this club.
I need you to convince her to call it off.
Oh, I am trying.
My mom never backs down, no matter how wrong she is.
(gasps)
That's why she's still married to my dad.
(stammers) Why are charities and churches
the only ones that don't have to pay taxes?
(chuckles): It's preposterous.
Yeah, man, this place is better than any church.
Everyone wants to come here on Sunday,
people are always shouting out the Lord's name
and instead of wafers and wine,
you get club sandwiches and scotch in a plastic cup.
Bart Simpson,
you've just given me the greatest idea
since little whales embroidered on khakis.
(whales singing)
As of today, the sport of golf
is officially declared a religion.
The Springfield Junipers Golf Club
is now a house of worship.
Like all religions, golf will be completely tax-exempt,
adhering to the core American credo
that churches rake it in but pay nothing.
May Golf have mercy on us all.
Mm.
(groans)
-(crowd oohing) -MAN: Get in the hole!
(excited murmuring)
(cheering)
Thank you for coming, Your Holinesses.
Once you see how these golfers
are cheapening the whole idea of religion,
you'll put an end to this sham.
You want me to cast judgment on a faith other than my own?
Well, twist my arm.
(laughing)
♪ I'm alright, Lordy, Lordy ♪
♪ Don't nobody worry 'bout me, don't worry ♪
♪ You got to gimme a fight ♪
♪ Why don't you just let me be? ♪
♪ Hallelujah. ♪
Mm?
Congregants, scripture, prayer--
looks like a house of worship to me.
(Marge grumbles)
These aren't commandments.
They're jokes I don't get.
Well, there's plenty of saints.
(Italian accent): Blessed Shark,
deliver my son's golf ball safely
onto the green of Pebble Beach's notorious
and evil 17th hole.
Look at this. It's like the high holidays every day.
I should be so lucky.
Marge, I'm sorry,
but I think this religion checks all the boxes.
We're calling it. It's a faith.
I just can't take seeing him like this.
Honey, over the years I've learned
that you just want me to listen to your problems
and not always try to solve them.
So... good luck.
It's Sunday. Shouldn't you be in church?
I mean, your church.
(sighs) I've said a lot to you about this job,
except what's deepest in my heart.
Honey, the thing I've always admired most about you
is that you've never needed anyone else's approval.
And I'm worried you're gonna lose that.
I'm not gonna suck up forever.
Just until I'm rich.
Then other people will suck up to me.
Promise me these golf people won't take away
my special little guy,
because they seem to get everything else they want.
Mwah.
Ready to play, sir?
I see you've got a new diamond earring.
Very age-appropriate.
Bart, you'll never caddy for me again.
Now that your mother's no longer a threat,
I can go back to Chadlington here.
Him? But my religion idea saved the club.
I should be your caddy.
I earned it.
Earned?
Earning things is so...
tennis.
Golf is about privilege.
Fine. But someday I'm gonna be a member here,
and I'm gonna be cool to the caddies.
Uh, you, a member?
(laughing): Oh, look,
you made Chadlington laugh.
(high-pitched chuckling)
Look, there's no path from where you are to where I am.
Once a suck-up, always a suck-up.
(grunts)
-♪ ♪ -(panting)
Mm?
Well, I earned this.
Sorry, buddy, but it's time to say goodbye.
(golf club strikes ball)
-(shrieks) -Huh? -LOVEJOY: Fore.
You joined?
They gave us a group deal
and they lifted their restrictions.
What's not to like?
Everything's not to like!
These people are horrible.
Their stupid shoes clack-clack-clack everywhere.
The snack shop buffalo wings are microwaved and...
-(engine revving) -What the...?
♪ ♪
(quacking)
You made one mistake, Bildorf.
You forgot about the wad.
It can buy a pretty nice ATV
or rent a whole bunch of them.
♪ ♪
-(shouting) -(engines revving)
Booyah!
Oh, no.
(high-pitched whimpering)
Kid power!
(engines revving)
(exclaims)
Look at me!
I'm playing golf!
(laughing)
Rum-Ta-Tum, your time has come!
RALPH: Whee!
(laughing)
Class warfare! (giggling)
Bart Simpson,
the next time you want to make a point...
(chuckles) I would prefer you use your words.
Did you honestly think a little vandalism would shut us down?
(chuckles) Greens can be reseeded,
traps re-sanded, roughs unsmoothed.
The club will go on.
(siren wailing)
Ah, and here are the police to take you to jail.
This is a raid. We're closing the club down.
Bildorf, you're under arrest.
(scoffs) Me?
But they are the ne'er-do-wells.
I am the head of a legitimate religion.
You sure are.
And like every new religion, sooner or later,
it turns into a sex cult.
In your case,
it was really sooner.
♪ ♪
-♪ I'm alright ♪ -♪ I'm alright ♪
♪ Nobody worry 'bout me ♪
♪ Why you got to gimme a fight? ♪
♪ Can't you just let it be? ♪
-♪ I'm alright ♪ -♪ I'm alright ♪
♪ Don't nobody worry 'bout me ♪
-♪ Nobody worry 'bout ♪ -♪ You got to gimme a fight ♪
♪ Why don't you just let me be? ♪
-♪ Let me ♪ -♪ I'm alright ♪
-♪ Nobody worry 'bout me ♪
♪ Why you got to gimme a fight? ♪
♪ Can't you just let it be? ♪
♪ I'm alright ♪
-♪ I'm alright ♪ -♪ I'm alright ♪
♪ I'm alright... ♪
Shh.
Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH