[exciting rock music]
- Will Mayor Bob Pimko win his fourth straight
San Francisco 500 Grand Prix,
or will a challenger finally unseat the champion?
Find out this Sunday, Sunday, Sunday
plus two days, so Tuesday!
- Now back to the game.
- Washington Commanders?
What happened to the Redskins?
Are we no longer honoring our Injun history?
- Oh, great, another interception?
Come on, 49ers!
Gosh golly flippin' fudge pops!
- Will somebody teach this man how to cuss?
That's just fuckin' sad.
[engine rumbling]
- Hold up! Hear that?
Only one girl's ever made my nut sack vibrate like that:
my old Trans Am, Betty!
It's been 50 years.
I'd know that purr anywhere.
That's her. Come on, boys.
[Mountain's "Mississippi Queen"]
My baby's getting away!
♪ ♪
- Whee! Ow!
I'm flying!
[tires squealing]
- ♪ Mississippi Queen ♪
♪ If you know what I mean ♪
- I don't see her. [sniffs]
But I smell her!
- ♪ Mississippi Queen ♪
- She's in there!
Betty, it's been 50 years.
Oh-ho-ho, I missed you, Betty.
The fuck?
Bernie?
- ♪ Good, mm-hmm ♪
♪ Three brothers puffin' ♪
♪ And we just woke up in year 2020 ♪
- ♪ Roll another J and forget the day ♪
♪ Roll another J and get high ♪
♪ Roll another J and forget the day ♪
♪ Me and my brothers getting fried ♪
- ♪ The Freak Brothers ♪
- Who the hell changed Betty to Bernie?
And what the hell's this?
What's with this highfalutin tranny?
- Tranny? Who you callin' tranny?
- Huh? - For your information,
I transitioned five years ago.
But thanks for the denigrating and dated terminology.
- Uh, I don't know what any of that means,
but I can't believe there's an automatic gearbox
in my Betty.
- Who the fuck are you?
- Franklin Freek,
the owner of this here vehicle.
[dramatic music]
- I own this car, and I've got the title to prove it.
- Shoot, title don't mean nothin'.
She'll always be mine.
See, I know how to handle her.
- Him. - Her.
- Him!
- All right, how 'bout we settle this
with a little bet, purty lady?
- What you got in mind, Mutton Chops?
- I'll bet I can beat you in a race
drivin' nothin' but that ole chuck wagon out there.
- Oh, you're on.
And we race for pink slips.
[upbeat music playing]
- ♪ Ya'aseh shalom ♪
♪ Ya'aseh shalom ♪
♪ Shalom aleinu ♪
♪ Ve'al kol Yisrael ♪
- [gasps] She's amazing!
- Give it up for Lady Sinagaga.
Wasn't she great?
- More like Rabbi Sinagaga.
Hoo, shalom indeed.
- Baby got matzo balls, right, Freddy?
Freddy?
- My turn!
- Oh, honey, you might have a great set of pipes,
but before you get on my stage,
you gotta do something about that pipe.
- Huh? - It's a drag club, darling.
Here, let me help you.
Now we're cooking with schmaltz.
There you go, shéfele.
- Ah, thank you.
[feedback squealing]
[upbeat music playing]
♪ Ain't no man man enough for me ♪
[cheers and applause]
♪ Nothin' wrong with big and strong ♪
♪ But that's not all I need ♪
- Wow! Can you believe his voice?
- That girl can sing.
- ♪ Let me say it again so you understand ♪
♪ Ain't no man man enough for me ♪
[cheers and applause]
[upbeat rock music]
♪ ♪
- Enjoy your last ride in her, honey.
- Him!
[engines revving, tires squealing]
♪ ♪
- Damn, she's good.
Let's see if she can handle this.
[tires squealing]
- [gasps]
I come in here for a little peace and quiet and--
What the fuck is going on?
- Ain't it obvious? Drag racin'.
- Are you insane? Pull over this instant.
- Then kiss your minivan goodbye.
I might've accidentally kind of...bet it.
- You what?
Don't look at me, you hayseed!
Look at the road! Go! Go! Go!
♪ ♪
Brake! Brake! You're not gonna make this.
- Oh, yeah? [chuckles]
Time for a little whale tail.
♪ ♪
[tires squealing]
♪ ♪
- You have to go faster. She's going faster than you.
Why aren't you going faster than her?
Just go faster!
[tires squealing]
♪ ♪
[tires screeching]
- You lose, Rawhide!
- You fucking loser!
Why didn't you just go faster?
- Girl, you slayed up there.
You should enter the contest.
- What contest?
- The annual drag karaoke competition
that takes place this Shabbas, Shabbas, Shabbas
plus three days, so Tuesday.
Winner gets $1,000.
That's a lot of shekels.
- Oh, I just sing 'cause it feels nice.
- 1,000 clams? We're in.
- Can you recommend a good back waxer?
[funky music]
- Can't believe I got beat by a dang girl.
Sorry I lost your chuck wagon, Harper.
- Ugh, that race got into my veins.
The hairpin turns, the smell of gasoline.
I can't go back to Costco runs and piano lesson drop-offs.
Now go set up a rematch, loser!
♪ ♪
- You barely beat me, lady,
and I was in a dang stagecoach.
- [chuckles] Whatever helps you sleep, Cowboy.
- Eh, come on, let me buy my Betty back.
Do you accept payment, perchance,
in the form of wicker furniture and skunk weed?
- Sorry, Bernie has moved on.
- Bernie? Who names a purrin' puma Bernie?
Everyone knows beautiful cars are always named after a girl.
- Bernie was my name before I transitioned.
- Y-you say transmissioned?
- From my assigned sex at birth.
I was born male. Hello!
[disco music]
♪ ♪
- Oh, my God.
This is fuckin' great.
I didn't lose to a girl!
- Okay, I think we're done here.
It's been a pleasure taking your soccer mom-mobile.
- If you wanna win the Grand Prix,
check out that oil residue on the cylinder heads.
You have a leaky gearbox.
- Ooh, you know your stuff, Ten Gallon.
I might regret this, but...
you wanna be close to Bernie, you can be my mechanic.
- Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you.
You will not regret this, Mister.
- It's Miss.
- Right, right, Miss. Right, Miss. Yeah.
My apologies, sir-- uh, ma'am.
Uh, shit, I'm gonna just stop talkin' now.
[COM 1]
[funky music]
- Did you replace the torsion bar?
What's taking so long?
- Havin' a little trouble findin' it.
- Probably not the first time you've said that to a lady. Ha!
- I'm havin' trouble findin' a lot of things
with all these mods.
Fins, spoilers, aftermarket parts.
She's a mess.
- Ugh, I don't need some macho grease monkey
mansplaining what parts go where.
Socket wrench, please.
- Do not listen to this woman, Betty.
- Bernie!
- Huh. [whispering] Betty.
[dramatic music]
- Let's see what we're workin' with.
Come on out, Freddy!
- Ta-da!
Dolly Freekowtski!
[record scratches]
[upbeat music playing]
♪ Ain't no man man enough for me ♪
- Cut!
Saggy ass.
- Saggy boobs.
- Saggy sack.
And Dolly Parton?
She's older than us.
Not gonna work. - He's right.
You gotta be young, thin, pretty
like somebody Adam Levine would have an affair with.
Oh, Dua Lipa!
- Who's Dua Labia?
- Dua Labia.
That's perfect.
Two lips.
[dramatic music]
[blowtorch crackling]
- Harper! [chuckles]
Loving the new race car hobby.
Just thought we could have a quick chat
before making any more changes to my Prius.
Maybe we could--
Oh!
- Time for a test-drive.
[Mountain's "Mississippi Queen"]
♪ ♪
- Not bad. Okay, try a hard turn here.
[tires squealing]
Mm-hmm, I would have gone with trail braking there,
but pretty impressive.
- Trail braking?
Oh, she knows about trail braking.
[laughs]
[tires squealing]
- Cocksucker can drive.
This guy is too good. Call Sheldon.
- Sheldon? Are--are you sure, sir?
- Who has the computerized voice of authority?
both: You do.
- Right. Call fucking Sheldon.
[bones crack] - [groans]
- Ha-ha-ha.
[siren wailing]
- Shit. The cops.
- Officer Sheldon,
San Francisco Sensitivity Police.
- Sensitivity Police?
- License, please.
- Of course, sir. - Sir?
That's a Code 86 violation, assuming my gender.
Please step out of the vehicle.
- Uh, is there a problem, man?
- First sir, now man. That's it.
I'm booking you for resisting progress.
- You takin' me to prison?
- Worse.
[bell rings]
I'm Officer Sheldon of the Sensitivity PD--
he, him, her, they--
and you are all here because what you've done
is worse than illegal.
It's offensive!
- I'm just wonderin' how long this gonna take.
I got a race comin' up.
- Not unless you pass this course, you don't!
- Hey Two-Ton, what the heck's goin' on here?
- It's Mayor Pimko.
He's putting all the good racers in this class
so we'll miss the Grand Prix.
- [clears throat] - Which is on land
previously occupied by the Pomo,
Cahuilla, Chumash, Maidu and Mojave tribes!
[dramatic music]
- Huh, heh, that looks good.
Can I maybe have some chili too?
- No, Fatty!
How many girdles do you gotta break until you get it?
- You just lost yourself an olive.
- This sucks!
I wanna be Dolly Freekowtski, not Dua Labia.
- We have sacrificed everything for you!
So chew on your salad, spit it in the bucket,
and be grateful you have friends looking after you!
[both spit] [bucket clangs]
- Guys, funny story.
I'm at AutoZone, and I tell the guy
I need a 3/4 inch ball joint splitter,
and he hands me a custom Marconi strap fitter.
[laughing] Are you serious?
- That seems like it might be a very amusing anecdote
if I knew anything about cars.
- Well, my sister's officially insane.
How's the racing going for you? - It ain't.
I'm stuck in this dang sensitivity class.
Pimko's got half the racing teams in there.
- Well, that doesn't sound very legal to me.
- Worse. It--it's offensive.
- They're nabbing racers for not being progressive?
I gotta let them know I'm married to a Black man!
[dramatic music]
[tires squealing]
Honey, jump in the window. The doors are inoperable.
- Mom, are you serious right now?
[siren wailing]
- Sensitivity Police!
Shut off your engine. [engine stops]
- Hi, Officer.
Harper Switzer. I'm extremely sensitive.
I actually named my car after my husband,
who, as you can see, happens to be Black.
- Happens to be Black?
Offensive!
♪ ♪
- What the hell am I doing here?
I'm married to a Black guy.
- What the hell am I doing here?
I am a Black guy.
- Whoa, how the hell they get you?
- I, uh--I accidentally deadnamed myself.
Ugh, fucking Pimko.
That skunk'll stop at nothing to win another title.
- We gotta get out of here.
The race is in a couple of days.
Officer Sheldon, what do you got against me, dude?
- I do not like you.
You are a relic of the past.
- The past, huh?
Heck, I am the past.
And that's how I'm identifyin' from now back.
I identify as past.
My tense was past.
Please used the past tense
when you talked to me from then on.
- What are you talking about?
- What was I talking about?
- You're a nitwit. - Was a nitwit.
Please don't present-tense me.
- I do not accept the way you identify!
[speaking in tongues]
[siren wailing]
- Officer Sheldon, that's a violation of Code 108C,
failure to accept a person's preferred identity.
Consider yourself canceled.
- We're free, y'all! [people cheering]
- Suck a dick, Sheldon!
[tense music]
[air hisses]
♪ ♪
- Why have you disturbed my slumber?
- Sorry, uh, Lord Mayor.
I'm afraid we have some, uh--
well, it's-- it's bad news.
- Uh, Officer Sheldon has fallen.
Please, please show us mercy.
- Yeah, man, please... - Please.
- Don't choke us to death.
Don't shove anything up our ass.
- What? - Huh? Was that--
I--I was just saying, like, don't.
- Well, speak for yourself.
- Don't just stand there.
Fuck them up.
Sabotage. Sabotage. Sabotage.
[upbeat rock music]
- Looking good. Makin' great time, Mary.
Don't forget to punch it in the Castro.
- On it. - Ooh, hot damn!
[engine revving]
- Oh, shit! Cripple!
I mean handicapped!
[tires squealing]
- My God, are you okay... Betty?
She's all dinged up.
What the hell'd you do to her?
- What did I do? Didn't you see what happened?
- Are you--you good? You ok--are you--
- How you feelin'?
- Being Bob Pimko's brother sucks.
Now give me my forty bucks.
Ugh, I gotta find a better way to make a living.
- Well, maybe if you'd made different choices,
you might've been able to avoid it.
- What's that supposed to mean?
- Well, it ain't exactly a secret.
All that body modification
was bound to take its toll on the ole gal.
- [laughs] Here it comes.
Go on, I want to hear this.
- Okay, fine. Here it is.
You don't fuck with original parts!
- [scoffs] Wow.
You know, if that's how you feel,
maybe we shouldn't be teammates.
- Fine with me. We're done.
- Good with me. - Better with me.
- Dick.
- You're--oh, you're going this way.
Well, I'm not doing the awkward walk thing with you.
Ladies first.
Fucker! Ah!
- [whimpers]
[sadly] ♪ I'm the life of the party ♪
♪ We're drinking Bacardi ♪
♪ P-poppin' bottles in the back ♪
♪ Of my Ferrari ♪
- I need more energy, D-Labia.
And we're smiling and we're singing
and we're dancing and we're happy, happy, happy!
- Yeah, you slob!
No one likes a sourpuss with big titties.
- But I haven't eaten in 19 hours.
[moans]
- [as Buffalo Bill] It sings the song,
it gets the cupcake.
- [sighs]
Okay, sorry.
♪ I--I'm the life of the party ♪
[sobs] - Om, nom, nom, nom, nom.
- Fuck, I've never seen Freddy this sad.
Maybe we're being too hard on him.
- You're missing a hell of cupcake, Freddy!
- Ugh, Harper is so into racing,
I can't remember the last time she let me
take a pumice stone to her feet.
- No offense, but you're just talking about your wife.
I may never see my Betty again.
- [sarcastically] Sorry for being insensitive.
- Just try to think before you speak.
[knock at door]
Whoa. What the hell happened to you?
- Turns out, I broke my foot in that wreck.
- No shit.
You know, as I tried to tell you,
metaphoratically, maybe you should've
stuck with the original parts.
- Ugh! Jesus, you are such a fucking dinosaur.
- What? No. I didn't mean it like that.
I--I was talkin' about the car.
- [sighs]
Listen, we can't let that evil Stephen Hawking motherfucker
win again this year.
I'm thinking you could drive Bernie in the race.
- [chuckling] Well, yee-fuckin'-haw!
Hell yeah, I will! [laughs]
- Well, all fuckin' right! Whoo!
- On one condition:
and if I win, you change Bernie back to Betty,
just as she came off the assembly line.
- What? No way!
- Deal or no deal?
- Fine. Deal. It's just a car.
- You don't mean that.
[dramatic music]
- And now, ladies and gentlemen...
and ladies who were gentlemen
and gentlemen who were ladies
and ladies dressed as gentlemen
and gentlemen dressed as--
- Get on with it!
- Dua Labia!
[cheers and applause]
Dua Labia, you have five minutes to make your way
to the main stage, or your position is forfeit.
- Freddy? - Freddy!
Freddy, what are you doing?
They're about to disqualify your ass.
- [sniffles] My tummy's all squozed up,
I'm starving,
and these Jimmy Choos are three sizes too small.
It ain't fun.
- [sighs] That's on me.
I've been ridin' yo' ass like one of those stage moms
on "Toddlers & Tiaras."
That's a damn good show, though.
- But I don't wanna let you guys down.
- We let you down.
What you need to do is go up there
and be your authentic self.
- Are you sure? - You do you, Freddy.
- Okay!
- Oh!
- Ladies and gentlemen
and ladies who were gentlemen-- oh, forget it.
Your attention, please.
There's been a change to the program.
Please put your hands together for...Hizzo!
[cheers and applause]
[funky music playing]
♪ ♪
- ♪ Don't hate on me ♪
♪ If my stomach's flopping loose ♪
♪ And my ass leaves you amused ♪
♪ 'Cause it brings in revenues ♪
- What the hell is he doing?
- He's being his authentic self.
- Who the fuck wants to see that?
- ♪ Don't hate on me ♪
♪ If I'm dancing and enthused ♪
♪ I ain't takin' your abuse ♪
♪ Now please pass the chocolate mousse ♪
♪ Mama eat ♪
[cheers and applause]
♪ ♪
- Uh-uh-uh. That's right, bitch. Get it.
♪ Mm, uh-uh-uh, that your breath ♪
♪ Is so damn stank ♪
♪ And your booty just ah-ah-ah ♪
♪ ♪
[cheers and applause]
- And the winner of the Dragoff Contest
is...Hizzo!
- Yas, queen!
- [sobbing]
I'm a lucky girl.
[sniffs]
I gotta put these in water.
- Welcome, race fans,
to the San Francisco Grand Prix
on a beautiful Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday!
Today is Tuesday, right?
I gotta pick my kid up later.
Introducing our racers:
Grammy nominee Schoolboy Q
and his calorically blessed bodyguard Two-Ton!
Feckless apartheid profiteer Elon Musk!
She's married to a Black man, Harper Switzer!
The Skin Lasso from El Paso, Freewheelin' Franklin Freek!
And finally, introducing the soon-to-be
four-time Grand Prix champion
and the man who pays my salary,
Mayor Bob Pimko!
- Game on, bitches.
- Franklin's like a brother, but the mayor fights dirty,
so I'm bettin' it all on Pimko.
Fuck him in the ass! No lube, baby!
- 25 bucks for a light beer?
How's the average cat supposed to afford this?
This country's going to shit.
[engine revving]
- Okay, headset's on. Check, check.
Should we do a feel-good cheer, honey?
- Oh, don't you fucking "honey" me.
We are in race mode.
I swear, Noah, I-- - And headset's off.
- Okay, that's sad.
Franklin, do you read me?
- Copy that.
Hey, Harp! Good luck!
- Hey, Frank! Fuck you!
[engines revving]
[lights beeping]
[tires squealing]
- And they're off!
- Franklin, listen up.
Pimko plays it dirty off the line.
Hang back.
Let him thin the field.
Then make your move.
- Thanks, hon, but this ain't my first rodeo.
[exciting rock music]
♪ ♪
[gunshot]
[tires screeching]
[explosion]
Jesus, he's already playing dirty.
- Well, imagine that.
- Ooh, some brilliant cheating from Mayor Pimko!
You know who else cheats?
My wife!
♪ ♪
- Amber, sweetie, I have plenty of time to send a dick pic.
This baby's on autopilot,
which works perfectlyyyyyy!
[explosion]
- Oh! Down goes Musk!
He crashed harder than the stock price of Twitter!
- You're coming up on the Lombard stairs.
Watch out for a Pimko ambush.
- Ain't nobody gonna ambush me, darlin'.
- We're gainin' on them, Q!
- Hey, man, I don't give a shit.
This race is your thing, fat-ass.
- Deploy countermeasures.
♪ ♪
[both grunt]
- Franklin, look out!
- Fuck! What are those, bowling balls?
[tires squealing]
- And there goes our diversity!
- Damn, Q, those boys can roll. What we do now?
- Call the lucky motherfuckin' chopper to make a pickup.
- I told you he'd try to ambush you.
Oh, he's a cis snake.
- [juddering] Everything's under control.
[engines revving, tires squealing]
- He's blockin' us out.
Harper, can you hear me?
- Hey! Stay off my channel!
- The shitbag keeps winning by knocking us off one by one.
If we stick together, we have a chance.
- I'm listening. - O--okay.
I--I gotta ride your bumper.
- I think I know where you're going with this.
- Okay, I'm on your ass.
Let me just slide in there.
Gently. Gently!
- Oh, yeah. A little more, Franklin.
That's it. Get in my ass.
- Hey, guys. [chuckles nervously]
Anything going on I should be aware of?
- All right, Harp. Brake!
[tires screeching]
- Hey. That is cheating.
[whirring]
- Aah! [crowd gasps]
- Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Aah!
For the record, Franklin,
I had planned to double-cross you.
Now take that E.T.-lookin' motherfucker down!
♪ ♪
- And then there were two!
Gorgeous Bob Pimko
and unemployed burden to the state,
Franklin Freek!
- God damn it!
The I-talian race car is too damn fast.
I can't get past him.
- Hit the nitro boost!
- This car wasn't built to handle
that much extra horsepower.
She'll tip over.
- No, he won't.
The spoiler I added will stabilize him.
- That's what you'd do if you were in this seat?
- Yes! [feedback squeals]
♪ ♪
- They're neck and neck
and approaching the finish line!
- Break if off in his asshole!
[tires squealing]
- No, no, no, no, no.
- Oh, no, the man who pays my salary
has soared off course!
- Amsterdam by morning.
Hashish and hookers.
- Holy shit!
Your winner is Franklin Freek!
Pending of course, Bob Pimko invalidating the results
and declaring himself the winner.
- No!
Franklin picks today not to be a loser?
How selfish can you get?
[upbeat music]
- Whoo! We did it! Whoo-hoo!
Well, that was some great driving out there, Cowboy.
You know, we make a darn good team.
- Yep, I reckon we do.
- Well, a deal's a deal.
Bernie, you're gonna transition back to Betty now.
- Actually, no, he ain't.
Betty became Bernie, and he's never been happier.
And he just won the Grand Prix.
Maybe, uh--
well, maybe you know what's best.
- Really? I don't know what to say.
- Mm, say you'll give me Harper's minivan back.
- Give you?
I'll pay you to take that loser cruiser
the hell out of my garage.
- Nice titties.
- Nice boner. - [chuckles]
It's, uh--why, that's--
you know, it's just from, uh, winning the race.
- Sure, it is, Cowboy.
- Congratulations on winning the race.
- Thank you, ma'am. Uh, that's very kind.
If you'll excuse me, I gotta go get her number.
[laughs]
- ♪ I've been to Dallas and New Orleans ♪
[upbeat music]
♪ Down where the country air ♪
♪ Makes 'em all hot and mean ♪
♪ Cowboys, policemen ♪
♪ Miners, and marines ♪
♪ They all got one thing in common ♪
♪ Goin' steady isn't an option ♪
♪ Ain't no man man enough for me ♪
♪ You can bend me over like a horny bulldozer ♪
♪ But that's not all I need ♪
♪ He could be hung, give me a lung ♪
♪ Send me on a spending spree ♪
♪ But I'm never too proud to say it out loud ♪
♪ Ain't no man man enough for me ♪
♪ ♪
♪ Ain't no, ain't no ♪
♪ Ain't no man ♪
♪ Ain't no, ain't no ♪
♪ Ain't no man ♪
♪ Ain't no, ain't no ♪
♪ Ain't no man ♪
♪ Ain't no, ain't no ♪
♪ Ain't no man ♪
♪ ♪