The Simpsons.
D-ohh!
Boy, the way the Bee Gees played.
Movies John Travolta made.
Guessing how much Elvis weighed.
Those were the days.
And you know where you were then.
Watching shows like gentle Ben.
Mister, we could use a man like Sheriff Lobo again.
Disco Duck and Fleetwood Mac.
Coming out of my eight-track.
Michael Jackson still was black.
Those were the days.
The Simpsons is filmed in front of a live studio audience.
Hey, there, meathead, what are you watching?
I thought I'd check out the Warner Brothers network.
We're proud to present on the WB.
Another bad show that no one will see
I need a drink.
It's the TV movie of the year. The Krusty the Klown Story.
Booze, drugs, guns, lies, blackmail and laughter.
Starring Fyvush Finkel as Krusty the Klown.
I went through a five-year orgy
of nonstop pills and booze
with nothing to show for it
but four Emmys and a Peabody award.
All right! They're going to show his disastrous marriage to Mia Farrow.
Chan Ho, your mother Mia and I are getting a divorce.
Chan Ho is over there.
I am Chin Ho.
Whoever you are, just pass it along, kid.
What a bad father.
Lisa, knock off that racket!
But, Dad, I'm supposed to practice an hour a day.
I'll practice you!
You'll practice me. What does that mean?
Is it supposed to be some sort of threat?
Bart, make her stop.
Look, Bart, I have to practice my saxophone
- and you can't stop me. - Oh, yeah?
My dear Lisa, you are eight and I am ten.
And in my two extra years on this planet
I've learned a few tricks.
Give me that sax!
- No! - I said gimme!
- I said no! - Gimme it.
- No! No! No! - Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!
Aw, Lisa, it doesn't look so bad.
Oh, yeah?
Lisa, honey, if it will make you feel better
I'll destroy something Bart loves.
- Hey! - Don't worry, son.
If that bothers you
I'll destroy something Maggie loves.
Dad, you don't understand.
This saxophone is like my oldest friend.
I've had it for as long as I can remember.
You don't remember how you got it?
Nuh-uh.
Oh, well, it all happened in 1990.
Back then, the artist formerly known as Prince
was currently known as Prince.
Tracey Ullman was entertaining America
with songs, sketches, and crudely-drawn filler material.
And Bart Was eagerly awaiting his first day of school.
Don't worry, be happy.
Look, mama.
Oh, honey, I can't right now.
Bart's going to be late.
Now, son, on your first day of school
I'd like to pass along
the words of advice my father gave me.
Homer, you're dumb as a mule and twice as ugly.
If a strange man offers you a ride I say take it.
Lousy, traumatic childhood!
Ooh, there's the bus.
Good-bye, sweetheart.
School will be fun.
Welcome, kindergärtners. I'm principal Sinner.
S-Skinner.
Well, that's it. I've lost them forever.
Now, I'd like to introduce you to lunch lady Doris
who will serve you healthy, nutritious meals.
Yeah. Right.
Miss Phipps, the school nurse
who will provide ointments and unguents
and Jimbo, the school bully
who will administer noogies and nipple twisters.
I look forward to whaling on all of you.
There was a farmer who had a dog.
And bingo was his name-o
B-I... O, b-i... O, b-i...
And Bingo was his name-o.
Added extra clap. Not college material.
Hey! Wee bairn!
Hie ye hence from me heath!
Can't you understand English?
Hi, honey.
How was your first day of school?
Honey?
Bart was feeling mighty blue.
It's a shame what school can do.
For no reason, here's Apu.
Those were the days!
And that, my children,
is the story of Bart's first day of school.
- Very nice. - Yeah.
Yeah. Except you were supposed
to be telling the story of how I got my saxophone.
D-oh!
Homer, I can't get the baby to burp.
Could you try for a while?
No problem.
I'll just give her a sip of beer.
Come on, Maggie.
It's Miller time. Yes, it's Miller time.
Homer!
Oh, my father gave me beer as a child.
Till I wrapped my little red wagon around a tree.
Let's never drink again.
And we never did.
Mom, can you tell me the story of how I got my saxophone
and not have it turn into a story about Bart?
Oh, sure, honey.
Bart had just completed his first day at school
- and Bart... - Mom!
Hey, she's just giving the public what it wants...
Bart by the barrelful.
I'm sorry, Lisa.
It's just how the story goes.
No matter what Bart tried
he just couldn't fit in at school.
A, b, c...
- Uh... Line. - "D".
D, e...
Um... Line.
"F," Bart.
And believe me, you'll be seeing plenty of them.
Bart, would you like to read a book?
No.
Would you like to color something?
I did.
That's damn fine coffee you got here in Twin Peaks.
And damn good cherry pie.
Brilliant.
I have absolutely no idea what's going on.
Homer, I want you to look at this drawing Bart did.
Oh! It's beautiful.
Oh, let's put Bart's beautiful drawing up on the fridge...
Homer, stop.
Would you please look at the drawing?
Oh, all right. What a...
Burn it! Send it to hell!
I think we're going to have to get Bart some help.
Get it away.
Bart, son, you want to play catch?
No.
When a boy doesn't want to play catch with his old man
something is seriously wrong.
I'll play catch with you, son.
- Get the hell out. - I'm gone.
Mrs. Simpson, physically
your son is as sound as the dollar.
I'm afraid Bart's severe emotional dysfunction
stems from a deep-seated psychological trauma.
With nowhere else to turn
we went to see the school psychologist.
Mr. And Mrs. Simpson
there's nothing to be alarmed about.
Public school can be intimidating to a young child...
particularly one with as many flamboyantly
homosexual tendencies as your son.
Bart's gay?
Bart?
Whoops! Wrong file.
Ah... The point I'm trying to make here
is that Bart must learn to be less of an individual
and more a faceless slug.
Hmm. Lisa, how old are you?
I am three and three-eighths.
Mmm. Lisa, if I have five apples
and I take away three apples
how many apples do I have left?
Two apples.
Wait a minute.
She's right.
Yes, very good.
Marge, Homer, I believe your Lisa may be gifted.
That's wonderful,
but still can't you do anything for Bart?
Marge, he's five. His life is over.
Lisa's the wave of the future.
Wave of the future!
That's right, honey.
If you nurture her gift now
there's no telling what she can do.
Wow.
Just think of the possibilities.
Lisa Simpson has won the Nobel prize.
Nah.
Lisa Simpson has won the Nobel prize...
for kick boxing!
Uh... I'll give you the address of a nice preschool.
Cross my heart
and hope to die, here's the digits that make "pi".
Three point one four one five nine two six five three five
eight nine seven nine three two three eight four six two six...
I can assure you.
Our preschool is of the highest quality.
Over 75% of our graduates go on to first grade.
Well, our little girl has a gift and we're willing to do
what it takes to help her.
Very good.
Once we receive your $6,000 tuition check, she's in.
I'll give you 50 bucks.
Our fee is non-negotiable.
Seventy-five!
Look, I knew private school would be expensive
but I was hoping we could get a scholarship of some sort.
Sorry. I don't have anything to offer you
unless you're a member of a minority group.
Excellente! Muchos gracias, senorata!
I'm sorry.
Ah, so.
Come on, honey.
I guess this is a world you'll never know.
Our family was suffering through its worst crisis ever.
Bart was miserable at school
and Lisa's gifts were going to waste.
Uh... Homer, it's five years later
and I'm still miserable at school.
And my gifts are still going to waste.
And sometimes I feel so smothered by this family
I just want to scream till my lungs explode!
Right. I'll go start dinner now.
You do that.
Hello!
Dad, what are you doing here?
Looking for my teeth.
Give me those!
Better wash these off.
Aw, the hell with it.
Well, grampa, as long as you're here
we were telling a story that took place
when Bart was five and Lisa was three.
Oh, I know this story!
The year is nineteen-aught-six.
The president is the divine Miss Sarah Bernhard.
And all over America
people were doing a dance called "The Funky Grandpa!"
Oh, I'm the...
Y-yes.
Well, as if our troubles weren't bad enough.
Springfield was going through an unseasonable heat wave...
And so, Springfield's heat wave continues
with today's temperature exceeding the record for this date...
Set way back four billion years ago
when the earth was just a ball of molten lava.
Oh... So hot.
Homer, have you seen the frozen peas?
Uh... You keep them.
Now, listen, if we can't afford private school
maybe there's some other way to encourage Lisa.
Um, an art class... Ballet lessons...
They have some fun things
you could do at the museum on Saturday.
Nuh-uh. Forget it, Marge.
There is no way I'm spending my Saturdays at a museum.
Unless...
Museums don't have foosball, do they?
You lose, Michelangelo's David.
Who's next?
Me!
I guess it doesn't matter.
All these things cost money and we just don't have it.
Unless...
Unless... what?
Well, there's that $200
we've been saving for the new air conditioner.
Oh, Marge, but we've needed a new air conditioner for years!
And our stopgap solution is getting cranky.
I cannot believe this!
I'm trying to give our daughter a headstart in life
and you aren't helping a bit.
Marge, name one successful person
who ever lived without air conditioning.
Balzac.
No need for potty mouth
just because you can't think of one.
But Balzac is the name.
Bup-bup-bup-bup.
If "ifs" and "buts" were candy and nuts, y...
How did the rest of that go?
Just promise you won't buy an air conditioner
till we've figured out a way to help Lisa.
All right, all right. I promise.
Must be another way to get an air conditioner.
Re-circulated air.
Uh, Homer?
What, Flanders?
Well, sir, I hate to be a suspicious Aloysius on you
but did you steal my air conditioner?
Well, I admit it looks bad, Flanders.
But haven't you heard of...
"Let he who is without sin cast the first stone?"
Got him, Dad!
And so, just as things looked their worst...
I realized I could make money
selling my medication to deadheads.
Grampa, what are you talking about?
Uh... Nothing.
As I was saying
things couldn't be worse for Lisa or Bart.
And the ugly duckling was amazed to realize
it had grown into a beautiful swan.
So you see, children, there is hope for anyone.
- Even me? - No.
Uh... Hi.
- Hi. - I have soy milk.
The doctor says the real kind could kill me.
I wish I was interesting like you.
You're funny.
I am?
Yeah... And the world needs a clown.
Doody.
Booger.
Man, that is killer material!
Skinner is a nut.
He has a rubber butt...
Young man, I can assure you
my posterior is nothing more than flesh, bone and...
that metal plate I got in 'Nam.
Now, I want you to knock off that potty talk right now.
The principal said potty!
You listen to me, son. You've just started school
and the path you choose now
may be the one you follow for the rest of your life.
Now...
what do you say?
Eat my shorts.
All right, I'll eat... Eat your shorts?
Yeah, eat my shorts!
Buttman.
Buttman?
He's the greatest showman since that kid who eats worms.
My fifteen minutes of fame are over.
Well, Moe, this is it.
Today's the day I get my new air conditioner.
Congratulations.
Who's the little chick?
I'm Lisa.
She has a gift.
You have 13 pickled eggs in this jar.
And one cockroach.
Who are you, sweetheart, the Health Inspector?
No, but I am.
Here, have a margarita.
Uh, that's a parasol.
Help us, Homer.
Yeah, help us, you fat yutz.
Wow...
A musical instrument?
Could that be a way to encourage a gifted child?
Just give me a sign!
Eh, works for me.
So, what do you like, Lisa?
Viomalin?
Tubamaba?
Obomoboe?
That one.
Oh... Saxomophone.
Two hundred dollars?
Oh, I'll take it.
Would you like an inscription, sir?
Yeah. "To Lisa,
never forget your daddy loves..." d'oh!
...and that inscription is still there today.
Wow. So that's how Lisa got her sax.
Next, I'll tell you the origin of Maggie's pacifier.
What origin?
We get them for a $1.95 down at the safeway.
But I really liked that story.
But it still doesn't fix this.
You know, Homer...
I think we have some money
in the air conditioner account again, hmm?
Oh... But, Marge,
am I doomed to spend the rest of my life
sweating like a pig?
Yeah, not to mention looking like a pig,
eating like a pig...
Don't forget the smell.
Will you get off my front lawn?
Why don't you make me?
Why... Oh, I give up.
Well, don't worry about me, Dad.
It's not how it looks, it's how it sounds.
Well, sir, we got a scorcher today.
And to cool off, nothing beats Fruitopia...
The iced tea brewed by hippies,
but distributed by a heartless multinational corporation.
"Dear Lisa, may your new saxophone bring you years of...
You're a good father.
I learned from the master.
Where's Maggie?
I'm not kidding... I can't see!
My retinas have detached again.
- He's blind as a bat. - That's right!
That's true!
Lisa, enough saxamaphone already.
Captioned by Visual Data Media Services