(tires screech)
D'oh!
-(tires screeching) -(grunting)
♪
I am so excited for the scout jamboree this weekend.
Dad, hand over the family bugle!
Here she is!
Old Blowy.
(blows bad note)
-(fanfare playing) -Hmm?
What? You're not a boy!
You can't join the Boy Explorers!
And that's a flugelhorn!
Yes. It's the hardest horn.
And, FYI, I did join.
And I already have three badges--
environmentalism,
badge-receiving,
and sibling rivalry.
Come on, you two...
MALE HACKER (distorted): Attention, corporate overlords,
we are Pseudo-nonymous,
and we have taken over this broadcast.
We are the anarchist collective of nameless hacktivists
who published the internal emails of Waffle House
and brought Home Depot's "Find a store near you" feature
to its knees.
FEMALE HACKER: Now we have hacked into the Disney Corporation's servers
and seized hundreds of hours of never-before-aired footage
from the television show The Simpsons.
Stories so ill-conceived,
so idiotic
that their exposure would destroy
the value of the very I.P. itself.
Until we are paid a ransom of $20 million in Bitcoin,
we will air these show-destroying scenes
one after another,
starting now.
No, no, it can't be true!
It is true, Carl.
There never was a Lenny.
So Lenny was just a figment of my imagination?
I... I made him up?
Yeah, your psyche created "Lenny"
to help you deal with a terrible trauma there.
-What trauma? -Finding out your previous best friend wasn't real.
It's kind of a thing with you.
Huh. Hey, I haven't seen you in here before.
I'm Carl. What's your name?
Nice to meet you, Steven.
Aw, crap, here we go again.
Now you see we mean business, Disney.
You will submit $20 million in Bitcoin to our crypto wallet
at the following address.
Until the payment arrives,
we will keep playing these nonsensical clips
no one was ever meant to see.
What's his name?
Number Eight.
I mean, Santa's Little Helper.
(thunder crashes)
Greetings, lamewads from the past!
I have come back in time to reveal the events of the future,
so that you can amaze the world
with your uncannily accurate predictions!
Less yelling, more foretelling.
My first shocking prediction is,
in 2016,
the Nobel Prize in Economics will go to...
Bengt R. Holmström!
Why would anyone care if we predicted that?
I don't know, but they will.
Do you have anything a little more...
oh, impressive?
Donald Trump is gonna be president.
(screams) Less impressive! Less impressive!
Okay, let's see. You're gonna want to mention gas hoarding,
pandemics,
Germany beats Brazil in the 2014 World Cup,
Disney buys Fox.
And then they both go under?!
No, they're both absorbed by Panda Express.
Pretty much everything now is Panda Express.
-That makes sense. -I get it.
Ooh! Orange chicken.
Arr.
Yarr.
Aye.
-Yarr! -Aye!
(gulping)
Yarr?
(chuckles): Aye.
Yarr!
Aye!
Aye?
Yarr.
Aye?
Yarr!
Aye?
Yarr!
-Aye! Aye! -Yarr! Yarr!
-Aye! -Yarr!
Aye!
(sighs): Aye!
(sighs): Yarr.
-Yarr, yarr, yarr, yarr...! -Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye!
Till the morrow, chums!
(groans)
-(children laughing) -(humming happily)
(groans)
WOMAN (New York accent): Is that you, babe?
(New York accent): Yeah, yeah, I'm home.
-Daddy! Daddy! How was school? -Hey.
It ain't school for Daddy, sweetheart.
It's work.
Soul-sucking, grueling work.
Then why don't you quit?
Always with the quitting, this one.
I can't do that, Doreen!
The police department needs someone inside the school!
So why's it got to be you?
Look at me, Didi.
I'm the only 36-year-old
who can pass for ten!
How 'bout passing for a good father?
The kids hardly know you.
You're out every afternoon till 3:00 p.m.
4:00 if there's chess club.
You think I want to be there?
Martin likes chess!
Not me!
I don't know where Martin ends and my Reggie begins!
(crying)
Aw, maybe you're right.
Maybe I am in too deep.
It's just, when I was diagnosed with... this,
I said, "I'm not gonna let it beat me.
I'm gonna use it for good!"
I'm doing good, aren't I?
You are, Reg.
You're a great role model for your kids.
All three of 'em.
(gasps) You mean...?
I do.
(distorted): They still haven't paid the ransom.
Did they not see the nonsense we just released?
How is Martin Prince an adult cop?
(distorted): Well, maybe I overestimated
how much Disney cares about Lenny.
No, it's not your fault.
You're the finest digital terrorist I know.
Your malware shut down the Portland Airport for two weeks.
(chuckles) Everyone missed Thanksgiving.
It's sweet you remembered.
Aw, you're sweet, too. (chuckles)
We should probably get back to...
(non-distorted): blackmailing the major corporation.
Wait! Why did the voice-changing app switch off?
(non-distorted British voice): Bollocks. I didn't upgrade to the premium edition,
and the free trial period ran out, I'm afraid.
I am so daft.
Oh, my God, you're British?
That must be delightful for your wife or girlfriend.
Oh, no, I'm painfully single.
Nary a romantic appointment in my "shed-you-ul."
Say that last part again.
You mean... "shed-you-ul"?
(sultrily): Shed-you-ul.
MALE HACKER: Shed-you-ul.
-(moaning) -(masks clacking)
Oh! We're back on! We're live!
Well, I-I suppose we should threaten them some more.
How about I just run another batch of show-ruining clips
so we can...
Topple the capitalist system
and its bought-and-paid-for...
Political enablers.
(speaking French)
(chuckles)
OPERATOR: Do you speak English?
We're trapped! Someone get help!
I can't help if I can't understand you.
Won't anyone do something?!
(groans) Never mind.
Let me get this straight.
You mowed down all that corn to build a football field,
hoping it would lure the ghosts of former players
down from football heaven?
Uh-huh. And look!
Hey, I don't recognize any of these guys.
Why are there two 50-yard lines?
Aw, damn it!
I built a Canadian field!
Oh. Sorry, hoser.
My bad, eh?
Hey, nice rouge there, Gordo.
Hey, Homer! Throw you a Hail Mary?
Shut up, Flutie.
Uh, yes. (clears throat) The day is Sol, uh, 150.
I am stranded on Mars.
I suspect my fellow astronauts left me behind on purpose,
as from the bathroom
I did hear the giggling and the shushing
and the "Blast off quick before he's done tinkling."
I have a mere three days of air and water remaining.
There is no hope.
Unless I glayvenate the hydrogen,
flavenize the oxygen,
and, yes, yes, poopulate the soil!
It was a simple matter of applying pseudoscience
and phantasmagorical engineering to the problem. Yes.
Oh, yes, I also cloned myself for company.
And my fellow Frinks have built us all
an escape rocket. Isn't that wonderful?
(clones laughing, chattering)
Leaving!
(gasps)
Aw, flayvin me in the glayvin!
Hello. This is Homer Simpson.
From the bottom of my heart, I apologize
to the great, great, great people of Finland
for what I said.
I have done many, many,
many, many, many episodes,
and in one of those-- just one--
I mixed you up with Norway.
And I have so, so, so, so, so much love and respect for...
I think "Finns" is what you're called.
And if I ever-- I mean ever--
ever, ever, ever thought
that an innocent slip of the tongue
is something that an entire nation
could get worked up about,
I would've kept my mouth shut.
And the scary, scary, scary, oh-so-scary lawyers
of the giant, giant-- I mean giant--
so, so giant, scary corporation I work for
would not have had to draft this statement.
God bless you
and all the peoples of South America,
for you are a-- What?
What do you mean I have to record it again?
What did I say?
You're chewing too loud.
From now on, only two chews per bite.
One, two, swallow. One, two, swallow.
I think I've misplaced my appetite, mother.
I need to see you right now.
I deserve this.
I deserve to feel like a man.
Only with you do I truly feel alive.
I made this just for you.
Thank you, Mother.
Anything for my son. I am so proud of you.
Oh, Mommy. I can't wait another second.
You know I need it.
(sultry music playing)
I almost forgot to give you this.
Leave it on the dresser.
If only that were my real mother.
(groans) If only that were my real son.
(Homer humming happily)
I don't mean to be unneighborly, but, uh,
you wouldn't know what happened to my old nostril skirt?
Mustache you say? Hmm, let me think.
Stroking this goatee I've always had.
Stroking, stroking...
That's it. Boys, we're Jewish now.
-ROD: L'chaim! -TODD: To life!
Mmm. (swallows)
From bun to pickle, a masterpiece.
The exquisite flavor is matched only by the peerless mouthfeel.
Five stars.
Bravo, Harvey Comics, bravo.
A stunning addition to the Casper-verse.
No notes. Ten stars.
With this level of sour cream in your blood,
your brain is completely starved of oxygen.
Consequently, you're a moron.
A perfect explanation. Succinct and devastating.
Infinite stars!
Best. Diagnosis. Ev-- (groaning)
Give me a beer, pally.
Hey, I know you, don't I?
Nah, must be thinking of someone else, slim.
No, I've definitely seen you around town.
Sign here, chief.
Here's your passport, gorgeous.
Brake pads are shot, tough guy.
Want that toasted, honcho?
Found your car keys, big shot.
Those were all you!
I don't know what to tell you, slick.
Just got that sort of face.
ALL: Pally-pally-pally-pally-pally-
pally-pally-pally-pally-pally- pally-pally-pally-pally-pally...
(moaning, smooching)
(exclaims)
-Oh, my God, you're beautiful. -You're more beautiful!
Oh. Oh, dear.
The world has seen our exquisite symmetrical faces.
Then they've also seen that we're... in love?
My God. Yes.
Yes, that's what it is, isn't it?
It is. (stammers) It is stunning.
As stunning as this list of abandoned episodes
that started as clever titles and went nowhere.
♪ Hopin' for the dream ♪
♪ Hopin' ♪
♪ Focus like a laser beam ♪
♪ I'll keep fighting till I want something great ♪
♪ Hopin' for a dream ♪
-♪ Hopin' ♪ -♪ To someday, somehow have a goal ♪
♪ I'll keep fight... ♪
Are we crazy?
Can two people, forbidden from sharing
any personal information, really make a life together?
I do think we owe it to each other to try,
um... whoever you are.
I can't wait
until we're Mr. and Mrs. Redacted.
-(banging on door) -AGENT: FBI.
Surrender, hacker scum!
If we're going down, we'll take The Simpsons with us.
-I'm gonna play the dog scene. -(exclaims)
(upbeat voice): Good morning, Homer.
It's morning?!
-(banging on door) -AGENT: FBI.
We've got you cyberterrorists surrounded.
This is it, darling.
I've cued up the very worst-of-the-worst clips
to play one by one.
When we push this button, The Simpsons dies.
-Together, then? -Together.
The lies... stop... now.
-Aah! -(gasps)
I know Eddie is Ralph's father.
Look at the hair. Look at the hair!
No, Clancy, I swear to you it's not true.
My son's breath smells like cat food.
Okay, you got me.
(quietly): I'll have the veal.
The lies... stop... now!
(grunts)
I did a DNA test.
I'm not your son.
Luann, how could you?!
I'm not hers either.
We're not your parents?
-All right. -Oh, thank God!
-Yes! -Oh...
(weakly): The lies... stop... now.
-(grunts) -Ow!
-(groans) -Marge,
I'm not your sister.
I'm... your mother.
But... but... wait, what?
I was young and briefly hot. It was a different time.
Back then, we solved things with huge lies.
Then, who was my real father?
His name was Disco... (grunts)
Disco... (groans)
Disco who? Disco Who?
The lies... stop... now!
(grunts)
Rake-y, I'm not your real father.
And I'm not Scottish, I'm Welsh!
Oh, don't turn your back on me.
♪
MAN: T-minus one minute to launch.
Ooh. (chuckling)
All for you, baby.
-(growling) -Aah!
Aah! Aah!
♪ We are the jockeys, jockeys are we ♪
♪ We live underground in a fiberglass tree. ♪
-(screams) -Opa!
(Simpsons theme playing)
(grunting)
(screams)
It's still me on the inside.
Sin-ner! Sin-ner!
Oh, Homie. You're awake.
-What happened? -You've been in a coma
ever since you tried to jump Springfield Gorge.
How long?
Two days ago.
Two days? But... I had so many adventures.
More than 700.
Those were all coma dreams. None of them ever happened.
(gasps) The "B" stories, too?
(sobbing)
I never had a pet lobster?
I never went to space?
What about the Halloweens?!
Drop your code and move away from the Internet!
You're both under arrest.
On what charge, grand theft heart?
Conspiracy to commit to love?
Willfully endangering each other's loneliness?
Take one more step and I'll blow this I.P.
to Magic Kingdom come.
Go ahead. You've already released all the Simpsons files.
No one cared.
The only people still watching that show
are football fans who passed out with the TV on.
I am not talking about The Simpsons.
We've hacked into all of Disney.
That means Star Wars, Marvel, Pixar.
We've even got...
Nat Geo.
You monsters.
If I press this button, the only Hulk that exists
will be Edward Norton.
It'll be like Ruffalo never happened.
You're bluffing.
I'll delete Baby Groot, Baby Yoda,
and their brand-new top secret character--
Baby Jeff Goldblum.
On the one hand, uh, "goo,"
but I'd be remiss if I didn't also mention, uh, "gaa."
Oh, my golly.
It's me as a baby.
Good God, she's not bluffing.
Stand down. Let 'em go.
I'll do it.
Um... we now return you to your regularly
"shed-you-uled" programming.
(sighs): Oh.
How do you lose two children?!
What kind of jamboree are you running here?
(both shuddering)
(Homer and Marge gasp)
HOMER: Yeah, you're back.
(smooching)
Ew.
When we get home, can we turn on the TV
and never, ever go outdoors again?
-Please? -Pretty please?
I've never been prouder of you two.
While you were gone,
your mom and I almost got divorced
over something insignificant.
Luckily, your dad apologized.
Yup, I got it down at this point.
It's all about the eye contact.
MARGE: He knows what works.
Captioning sponsored by 20th CENTURY FOX TELEVISION
and FOX BROADCASTING COMPANY
Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org
(female hacker whoops, laughs)
Maybe we didn't get the Bitcoin,
but we've got each other.
Oh, darling, I think we should do it,
I think we should tell each other our real names.
My name is Ashley.
-(tires screeching) -No! So is mine.
-Oh... -Ashley.
Oh, Ashley.
-Ashley, Ashley. -Oh, oh, British Ashley. Mmm...
Shh!