The Simpsons.
I hope you all are enjoying
your ride to and tour
of the Springfield Shopper newspaper.
Groundskeeper Willie and I will stay behind
to remove all traces of asbestos
and the word "evolution" from our school.
Next stop, Margaritaville! Uh-
- Oh, they're still here. - Yes.
Now I'd like to ask each child to pair up with
a buddy so no one gets lost.
Come to think of it, I haven't seen Uter
since the last field trip.
Uter?
I don't remember any Uter.
Silly name. Uter.
Dad, it's great that you volunteered to drive.
But how did you get out of work?
Don't worry, sweetie. Daddy's got it covered.
I work hard for the money.
So hard for the money.
Oh, I something, something money.
Come on give me lots of honey.
Now, there's an employee, Smithers.
A smile on his lips and a song in his heart.
Promote him.
Turn tape over!
Hey, I know how we can have some fun.
I spy with my little eye...
something beginning with "D."
Dingus!
God bless you, Nelson Muntz.
I'm no hero.
I just like to hit people in the head.
Hey, you!
You cut me off!
Oh, yeah! You!
Dad! That's an ambulance!
Oh, right!
Ambulance!
Think you're so big with your siren
and your letters on backwards!
Here we are, kids. The zoo.
Well, that's great, Dad.
Except you were supposed to drive us to the newspaper.
Welcome to the Springfield Shopper,
established in 1883.
The newspaper was founded by Johnny Newspaperseed,
a 14-year-old boy
who roamed America founding newspapers.
If he's so smart, how come he's dead?
Over the years, the shopper merged
with the Springfield Times, Post, Globe, Herald,
Jewish News and Hot Sex Weekly
to become Springfield's number-one newspaper.
Wow! A bustling metropolitan newsroom
funneling scoops from all over the globe.
Hi! Are you interested
in a subscription to the Shopper?
Low introductory rates!
No, please you gotta help ol' Gil.
What's it gonna take to keep you on the phone?
Dance for you? But you wouldn't even see it.
Yeah. All right.
I'm dancin'!
And this is our comic strip department.
Who here reads Mary Worth?
Let's move on.
This is where we store Ann Landers and Dear Abby
for their 23 hours of daily sleep.
My advice is to free us or let us die!
Check it out, Dad. You can print out the headline
from the day you were born.
Ooh! Pointless nostalgia!
I'd sure hate to be him.
And to protect Mother Earth,
each copy contains a certain percentage of recycled paper.
And what percent is that?
Zero! Zero's a percent!
Hey, I smell cake. Cake that says...
"farewell" and...
..."best wishes!"
Your old man has an awesome nose.
Oh, that's nothing. He can hear pudding.
So, Mimi, this little shindig is our way of saying farewell
to our favorite food critic.
What can I say except thanks for the predictable champagne,
pizza that's hardly numero uno
and ice-cream cake which reminds us,
why make 31 flavors when you can't get vanilla right?
I wouldn't want to be married to her.
I mean, again.
Who are you, and why are you ruining my retirement party?
I'll have you know, I wandered off from the tour.
Well, at least you like the food.
Oh, I like food, all right.
I like pizza, I like bagels
I like hot dogs with mustard and beer
I get the picture.
I'll eat eggplant
I could even eat a baby deer.
La-la-la-la-la-la La-la la-la.
Who's that baby deer on the lawn there.
- Enough already! - Sorry.
Hey, listen.
I just had a thought.
We're looking for a new food critic,
someone who doesn't immediately pooh-pooh everything he eats.
No, it usually takes a few hours.
Uh, look...
I'd like to give you a tryout.
Write a 500-word sample review.
If it passes muster, we'll put you on staff.
Thanks for the chance.
You won't never regret this, Mr. Editing Guy.
You know, Homie, the "e" doesn't work
on that typewriter.
We don't need no stinkin' "e."
"Restaurant review." No.
"Eatery evaluation." No.
"Food box - Go or no go,
by Homer." No.
Earl... no! Bill Simpson!
Well, what do you think?
This is a joke, right?
I mean, this is the stupidest thing
I've ever read.
What's wrong with it?
Well, you keep using words
like "pasghetti" and "momatoes."
You make numerous threatening references to the U.N.
And at the end, you repeat the words "screw Flanders"
over and over again.
Oh, it's so hard to get to 500 words.
Oh, look, Homer, I'm sorry.
No! You're right! It's a joke!
Everyone laugh at the funny joke! Ha-ha!
I'll be right back with the real review.
Still not clean. Stink of failure still on me.
Dad, I'm sorry the editor didn't like your review.
I'll help you write a new review
if you'll just let me use the bathroom!
Still not clean. Still not clean!
Okay, what restaurant did we review?
Well, we went to Pate Labelle last week.
- How about that? - Great. Now let me think.
The food was...
Mmm... not undelicious.
The food is delicious.
That's brilliant!
Then I had the sweet, sweet chocolate mousse.
Really, the only word for it is...
Hmm. What's the English equivalent for...
I'd say "transcendent."
How about "groin-grabbingly transcendent"?
Er, I don't think so.
We make a good team.
A groin-grabbingly good team.
Four hundred and ninety seven,
four hundred and ninety eight words.
How about "screw Flanders"?
Bon appetit.
Er, both's good.
Not bad! Not bad at all!
We're gonna run this on page one...
of section H2.
Whoo-hoo! Stop the presses!
Okay, start the presses!
That takes four hours.
Whatever. I'll be at Moe's.
This is so exciting, Homie! Your first restaurant review!
Marge. Shh!
It's important that no one knows that I'm a food critic.
Hear that, Maude? Homer's a critic!
Homer's a critic. Pass it on.
Did you hear? Homer's a critic.
Quit changing the subject!
Where is Uter?
Oh! We just want closure.
Arr! Here you are.
One critic's special.
Er, if anything appears to be movin',
that's just freshness. Arr.
Can you believe it, Marge?
This job is the greatest.
They're paying me to eat!
Yeah. Now if you could just get somebody
to pay you for scratching your butt,
we'll be on easy street.
Why, you little...
Wow! My first published article, whew,
although someone else's name is on it.
He-he. Welcome to the humiliating world
of professional writing.
But this is only the beginning.
Welcome to Planet Springfield!
The restaurant owned by me, Chuck Norris,
Johnny Carson's third wife and the Russian mafia.
Each Planet Springfield
is filled with priceless Hollywood gewgaws.
There's the coffee mug
from Heartbeeps!
And there's the cane
from Citizen Kane!
Wait a minute. There was no cane
in Citizen Kane.
And there's that awful script
from The Cable Guy.
Lemme see. Stupid script!
Nearly wrecked Jim Carrey's career!
You...
I'm gonna... what?
The food is exquisite!
And the view is... beautiful...
inspirational...
nauseating.
Hey, Homer! Great call on that chicken place!
And on that rib place!
I never knew everything was so good!
Look, Marge. I'm making a difference
in people's lives.
Yes, Simpson, your love of food is contagious.
I've never felt jollier.
There go my shin bones again.
Hey, Homer! Come here.
Are you gonna fire me
for swiping office supplies?
No.
Some of your fellow critics wanted to meet you.
This is Garth Trelawney, TV critic.
Why, you... you made them cancel Platypus Man...
Homer!
This is our theater critic,
Daphne Beaumont.
...and the Cosby Mysteries!
That show had limitless possibilities!
- Homer, please! - Sorry.
Jamie Killday, farm supply critic.
Just got back from the Gopher Poison show
in Paris. Let me tell you something, people.
The days of clubbing them with a baseball bat are over!
For you, perhaps.
Listen, we've been meaning to have a talk
with you about your reviews.
Everything's a rave! Nine thumbs up?
What the hell is that?
I've given out my share of bad reviews.
Oh! The only bad review you gave was
to a slice of pizza you found under the couch.
It lost some points 'cause it had a hot wheel on it.
Oh, good Lord, man. You're a critic!
You don't have to like everything,
e.g., my latest review.
"We see John Deere has come out
with this year's line of rototillers.
Surprise, surprise, they're green!
I say it's time to send John Deere a 'Dear John."'
- Oh, that's classic! - You don't have to patronize me.
Aaa... okay.
Lord, thy daughters...
Goneril, Regan and Cordelia.
What is this, merry old England or petticoat junction?
Hey! Lighten up. It's a comedy.
- No, it's not. - It's not?
Hmm. This pea soup is as weak as the acting
and nowhere near as hammy.
Dad! That's so mean!
The other critics told me to be mean,
and you should always give in to peer pressure.
But what if someone bad tells me to...
Always!
Whoa! This material stinks!
I'm gonna have to punch it up on the fly.
Oh, I got one! How do you make a King Lear?
Put the queen in a bikini!
Here's another one. Knock, knock. Who's there?
"Juliet." "Juliet who?"
Juliet so much pasta fazool,
Romeo doesn't want her anymore!
Whoa, tough crowd! They're booing Shakespeare!
Uh, not bad...
if lasagna is Italian for "pile of puke"!
Aah! I chopp-a you good!
Well, I hope you cut me better
than you did these string beans.
Hmm. I seem to be missing a piece of my ear. Touché.
Who wants pork chops?
Sorry, Marge.
I'm afraid this gets my lowest
rating ever! Seven thumbs up.
You always liked my pork chops.
Marge, I'm sorry, but your cooking's
only got two moves...
shake and bake.
You like shake 'n bake!
You used to put it in your coffee!
People change, Marge.
My palate has grown more sophisticated.
Oh, yeah? What's a palate?
Oh, it's a...
special time in a boy's life when...
Gotta go!
So come to The Legless Frog...
if you want to get sick and die
and leave a big, garlicky corpse!
P.S., parking was ample.
Dad, you're being cruel for no reason. What will people think?
People will think what I tell them to think,
when you tell me what to tell them to think.
Not anymore. I don't want to be partners
with a man who thinks like that.
Nobody talks to me that way! I'm Homer Simpson,
the most powerful food critic in town,
who will never get his comeuppance!
You hear me? No comeuppance!
We'll be right back.
I don't need Lisa to write a good review.
The food at The Gilded Truffle really...
uh-what's a good word?
Sucks! That's great!
And the bread was really...
Come on! Help me out here!
- Ruff! - Rough?
I don't know. You've been pitchin' that all night.
- Chewy? - Chewy!
That's inspired!
Homer, what gives with this review?
You say "the salad tastes like bark"
and the potatoes were very "grrrrr!"
This reads like it was written by a dog.
Are you crazy? A dog can't type.
Unfortunately.
Listen, you gotta shape up! Next week
is the Taste of Springfield festival.
You'll be reviewing every restaurant in town.
Remember, people have certain expectations
about the "Life Ways" section.
Really? Like what?
Oh, I don't know.
Astrology, Broom-Hilda, vacation horror stories,
articles about chronic fatigue syndrome...
you know, chick crap.
Homer, he's outta control. He gave me a bad review!
So, my friend put a horse head on his bed.
He ate the head and gave it a bad review!
True story.
Arr, well, I've had it with Homer!
His bad reviews are sinkin' our businesses.
Then, why did you put yours in the window?
Arr, it covered up the "D" from the health inspector.
Well, I say we ban Homer from our restaurants.
No. That would be impolite.
I say we kill him!
Now, hold on a minute.
Are we restauranteurs, or are we murderers?
Does that answer your question?
We'll kill him at The Taste of Springfield festival.
We'll give Homer all he can eat,
till he can eat no more.
Then, he'll get his just dessert.
This will be Homer Simpson's last lagniappe.
Come on! You're gonna kill him with a pastry?
I've seen this man eat a bowl of change.
This eclair has over one million calories.
Twenty-five pounds of butter per square inch.
Covered with chocolate
so dark, light cannot escape its surface.
No, no, no!
This is just a picture.
But Homer Simpson will find the real thing
both delicious and deadly.
Ah, yes! Death by chocolate.
And poison. I'll stick in some poison.
Homie, my woman's intuition's acting u.
Something bad's going to happen if you go in there.
Oh, Marge, something bad usually happens to me
when I go in anywhere.
A bat. Now, that's a new one!
So what are you up to, young lady?
I'm reviewing the festival for our school paper.
Oh. Well, I'm glad to see my ex-partner
is doing so well without me.
Pedestrian.
Uninspired.
I didn't say stop.
Lard ho!
Arr, 'tis a good sign.
Homer's unfastened the top button on his pants.
Uh, no, he's been walking around like that since Thanksgiving.
I'm surprised he just doesn't give it up
and go for sweat pants.
He says the crotch wears out too fast.
Yarrr! That's gonna replace the whale in my nightmares!
Well, don't worry.
The giant eclair will knock.
Homer off the food page
and into the obituaries.
Wait a minute. They're gonna kill Dad!
Oh, that's a spicy meat-ball!
So if we don't find Dad, this crazy French guy
is gonna kill him!
Only your father could take a part-time job
at a small-town paper and wind up
the target of international assassins.
We can find him faster by splitting up.
You take fried foods, you take salty snacks,
I'll take desserts. Break!
Ohh! So full.
Belly button moving from
innie to... outie!
Ooh, that looks scrumdiddly-doodly-duddley...
- Get lost! - A rude Frenchman?
Well, I never!
Ooh! Sweet!
Dad, no!
It's gonna kill you!
Ehh, I've had a good run.
Don't, uh...
Um, it's low-fat!
No!
Whew! That was close. Thank God
it landed in that smoking crater!
Take him into custardy, boys!
Hah! Attempted murder one.
Now, boys, what would you say to some Belgian waffles?
Actually, I was in the mood for some frittatas.
Ha! Lou and his frittatas!
Frittatas! Ha-ha!
Oh, he likes eggs.
Oh, Lisa, you saved me!
And after all the bad things I said about you.
What bad things? Why?
Oh, Lisa, the important thing is I didn't get my comeuppance,
and I never will.
Uh, Dad?
I know, honey.
The important thing is... run!
I'm finally getting my comeuppance!
Captioned by Visual Data Media Services