03x01 - Stark Raving Dad

[bunniefuu]

♪ The Simpsons ♪

D'oh!

Bart.

Bart!

Hey, Bart.

Lisa! It's 6:00 a.m.

Something's wrong. Dad d*ed.

No, no, he's fine.

What do you know?

I'm relieved.

My birthday's in two days.

I'll be eight years old.

It's a big number-- almost double digits.

Enjoy it while you can.

Everything changes when you hit the big I -0.

Your legs go.

Candy doesn't taste as good.

Let me pour my little heart out.

Sorry.

This old-timer does ramble on sometimes.

I do so much for you and you have disappointed me... on all my birthdays.

Okay.

I've made things for you--

Okay, okay, okay!

It's done.

Birthday gift coming your way!

Oh, thank you.

Bart, watch Maggie while I get the laundry.

Can do.

Hmm, Krusty Hotline.

Hi, kids!

You've reached the Krusty Hotline.

If you haven't asked your parents' permission-- naughty, naughty... but Krusty forgives you.

Two dollars for the first minute...

50 cents for each additional minute.

Thanks for calling, kids.

A new message every day.

Maggie!

Bart, I asked you to watch your sister.

I tried to stop her, but she overpowered me.

Who stole my shirt? Who stole my shirt?!

I washed it.

Thank you, Marge.

Ahh!

Pink?!

I can't wear pink to work.

Everybody wears white.

I'm not popular enough to be different.

You have plenty of white shirts.

Oh, gimme, gimme, gimme.

Oh, no! Pink!

Pink! Pink!

It's all over, Marge!

It's all over!

I don't know how this happened.

Ah, my lucky red hat.

Clean as a whistle.

You did this to me!

I... apologize.

No one will notice... if you wear a pink shirt to work.

Wait a minute.

Go back.

Zoom in.

Why is that man in pink?!

That's Homer Simpson-- a boob from Sector 7-G.

Judging by his outlandish attire... he's some sort of freethinking anarchist.

I'll call security, sir.

Excellent.

Yes, these color monitors... have already paid for themselves.

Pink! I don't get his statement.

Shh, shh, shh. Coming.

Hey, Homer... we saved you a doughnut.

It has pink frosting.

Thanks.

It looks--

Hey, wait a minute!

Just because I'm wearing pink... doesn't mean I'm some kind of pink doughnut-eater... although it is tempting.

Drop that doughnut.

Let's go, pinky.

You don't understand.

My son just threw his red hat in with the white laundry.

Spare me the tiresome antics of the Simpson family.

Take him away.

His body cavity search revealed nothing.

We must have X-rayed him a hundred times.

Maybe he's telling the truth.

Or you're in cahoots.

I recall you had a penchant for bell-bottomed trousers... back in '7 9.

That was my costume for the plant production...

of H.M.S. Pinafore.

Yes, of course.

Your spirited hornpipe stole the show.

Doctor, what should we do... about our freewheeling fop?

It used to be that establishing sanity... took months.

That's all changed... thanks to the Marvin Monroe...

Take-Home Personality Test.

20 simple questions that will determine...

just how crazy or "meshuggener" someone is.

"Print name."

Oh!

Hmm.

Hmm!

Honey, do me a favor.

Fill out this form.

This is an intimate psychological profile.

I can't fill this out for you.

All right, all right.

I'll get Lisa to do it.

Lisa, you like homework.

Could you fill out this form?

Well, all right... if you listen to my poem.

D-ohh! Okay.

"'Meditations on Turning Eight' by Lisa Simpson. I had a cat named Snowball. She d*ed, she d*ed! Mom said she was sleeping. She lied, she lied! Why, oh, why is my cat dead? Couldn't that Chrysler hit me instead? I had a hamster named Snuffy--"

No deal.

Dad, you should do this.

It's no different... than the time I let you vote for me.

Remember that absentee ballot?

Oh, yeah.

Our $50,000 home video finalists are: "Man Breaking Hip."

"Dog on Fire."

Ruff!. Anyone order a hot dog?

Look at him!

And finally, "Baby With a Nail g*n."

Aw.

It's time to cast your votes.

"Dog on Fire!" "Dog on Fire!"

Do you hear voices?

I'm hearing one now, though I'm trying to watch TV.

Yes. Are you quick to anger?

Bart, shut up or I'll shut you up!

Yes. Do you wet your pants?

Even the best of us has an occasional accident.

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

So did I pass?

No.

Bart!

Careful, men.

He wets his pants.

Uhh... the devil with his fly open.

Right.

A spill on the floor with bugs going after it.

Good.

The boy!

This isn't fair!

How can you tell who's sane... and who's insane?

We have a very simple method.

Whoever has that stamp on his hand is insane.

Put him in with the big white guy... who thinks he's the little black guy.

Who are you?

I'm MichaelJackson from theJacksons.

I'm Homer Simpson from the Simpsons.

I can't believe you never heard of me. I'm a very popular entertainer.

Of course, I've heard of you.

You'd have to be living under a rock--

What's your name?

MichaelJackson.

Doesn't ring a bell.

Heard of MTV or Motown?

No.

"b*at it"?

You b*at it.

"Thriller"?

What was that?

"Thriller."

No.

How about this?

♪ BillyJean is not my lover ♪
♪ She's just a girl who says that I am the one ♪
♪ But the kid is not my son ♪
♪ Hee-hee-hee ♪

Wow!

How do your feet do that?

The moonwalk?

No, your feet!

Raise your heel a bit.

Put a little pressure on the ball of your foot.

Uh-huh.

Huh?

D'oh!

You seem like a nice guy.

Why are you here?

I wore a pink shirt.

I understand.

People thought I dressed crazy.

What did you wear?

One white glove... covered with rhinestones.

♪ ...and Scratchy Show ♪

In the split second before he d*ed...

I bet Scratchy appreciated his birthday present.

Do you see how this relates to us?

You want that once-a-year empty gesture?

You got it.

Hey, Michael, I don't get it.

These guys seem as normal as you and me.

Homer, this is Floyd.

He's an idiot savant.

He can multiply any two numbers... in his head just like that.

Five times nine.

Forty-five.

Wow!

This guy is the chief.

He's been here since I 968.

Never says a word.

Hey, Chief.

Hello.

It's about time somebody reach out to me.

Gee, I got to call my family.

This is embarrassing calling from a nuthouse.

They think I'm a god.

I could call for you.

Oh, great.

Tell them this is one of those places... where rich women lose weight.

Joe's Crematorium. You k*ll 'em, we grill 'em.

Hello. Who is this?

Bart Simpson. Who are you?

I'm MichaelJackson.

The MichaelJackson?

No way.

I'm with your father in a mental institution.

Is Elvis with you?

He could be.

It's a big hospital.

If you're really MichaelJackson... who were your last four Grammy dates?

Brooke Shields, Diana Ross, Emmanuel Lewis and Bubbles.

Shiver me timbers! You are MichaelJackson!

Can you stay on the line while I get all my friends and relatives?

I'm afraid not.

Your father needs your help.

You don't want him to get a lobotomy, do you?

Hmm... lobotomy.

That's all right, son.

There's probably a downside I don't see.

Uh-huh.

New Bedlam Asylum.

Loves us.

Needs us.

Fears he may never see us again.

MichaelJackson, whoo-hoo!

I love you, man.

Hey, Mom...

Dad's in a mental institution.

Oh, my God.

Mother was right.

Don't you worry.

Your family will be here soon.

The only way out ain't pretty.

What's that?

Dating a nurse.

I knew you'd send your father to the crazy house.

You said poorhouse.

I said crazy house!

Poorhouse.

Crazy house!

Poorhouse.

Crazy house!

Hello, you've reached... the New Bedlam Wrongly-Committed Hotline.

All our operators are currently busy.

Please stay on the line.

What's wrong, Homer?

This place is so strange.

Mike, I'm ashamed to admit it to another guy... but I'm... scared.

We all get scared sometimes.

Maybe I can help you.

Hot cakes... football... boobies--

Bubbles, it's going to be a long night.

Please express yourselves.

In these sessions, we want you to feel relaxed and uninhibited.

I was working at an insurance company.

Youngest V.P. In the history of the firm.

The job was my life.

Then one Monday morning, I couldn't leave the house.

Was the door locked?

I just couldn't face what was out there.

Was it raining?

No, Homer...

Dave suffers from agoraphobia-- a fear of open areas and crowds.

Dave, go on.

I knew I just couldn't make that long drive to work.

Were you out of gas?

Baby.

Your husband suffers from a persecution complex... extreme paranoia and bladder hostility.

If you talk to him without mentioning Bart... you'd see how sane he is.

You mean there really is a Bart? Good Lord!

Mmm, pancakes.

Oh, Mr. Simpson, you've got a visitor.

D'oh!

Marge!

Oh, Homie!

After talking to your wife... we believe you're no thr*at to yourself or others.

That's the most flattering thing anyone ever said to me.

Could I have it in writing?

"Not insane."

Hmm.

I'm proud of you, Homer.

Michael, you really helped me get through this.

If you ever find your marbles, come visit us.

How about today? I'm here voluntarily.

You are? Why?

In I 97 9, I got real depressed...

when my Off the Wall album... just got one lousy Grammy nomination.

Joe's Taxidermy. You snuff'em, we stuff'em.

Boy, when I get home...

I'm going to wrap my hands around your neck... and smother you with kisses.

Whatever they got you on, cut the dose.

I'm bringing MichaelJackson home... for a few days.

Isn't that cute? He's heard of you.

Make sure we have cold cuts, and put some beer on ice--

I'm a vegetarian, and I don't drink.

Are you sure you're here voluntarily?

Yes.

Please make sure... he doesn't tell anybody I'm coming.

Yes, Dad, I solemnly swear...

I will not tell another living soul--

No, not even Milhouse.

Huh?

Hello, Milhouse?

Can you keep a secret?

No.

MichaelJackson... is coming to my house!

MichaelJackson?!

MichaelJackson?!

MichaelJackson?!

Aunt Bella?! Wait a minute.

I got a call on the other line.

MichaelJackson?!

MichaelJackson?!

MichaelJackson?!

MichaelJackson?!

MichaelJackson?!

We've just been handed a bulletin from our Rock 'n' Rumor department.

MichaelJackson is moonwalking his way to Springfield.

While we check it out... why don't you enjoy a seldom-heard... extra-long version of"In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida."

MichaelJackson!

Such a thing happens once in a blue moon.

Do I dare leave my post?

Ay, caramba!

Uh, this is the most exciting thing... to happen to our fair town... since the Dalai Lama visited in I 952 and so, I hereby declare that Route 401 currently known as the Dalai Lama Expressway... will henceforth be known as the MichaelJackson Expressway.

I think I can see him.

Oh, here he comes. Oh!

The guy in the pink shirt is the father of the family... who was just released from a mental hospital.

Thanks, everybody. It's great to be sane.

We want Michael!

We want Michael!

We want Michael!

Here he is.

Here's the guy... you want to see!

Aahh!

Huh? Huh?

He's 300 pounds.

He's white.

He's dressed without flair.

What made me think...

MichaelJackson would even visit this jerkwater burg?

You owe us MichaelJackson.

Don't ever show your face around here again, you tool.

Bart, the entire town is howling for your blood... and before I join them, I have one question.

Today is my birthday.

You promised you'd get me something and... and I'm afraid to ask.

Maybe you should trust that instinct and not ask.

I thought so.

Oh, Bart, you--

Come off!.

I'm sane now.

Dear Bart...

I am using the stationery Mom and Dad gave me...

for my birthday... to inform you that we are now brother and sister in name only.

Perhaps, if a professional so advises...

I will give you a hug... at some far distant family reunion... but rest assured, it will be purely for show.

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Hey, Bart.

Hey, you.

When I was a kid, I didn't have much money.

You know what I did when my sisters' birthdays rolled around?

Stiffed them?

No. I wrote them a song to show that I cared.

I can't write a song. I'm only ten.

When I was your age I had six gold records.

Hey, Looney Tunes, this is what MichaelJackson looks like.

You look like a big, fat mental patient.

I often hear that.

Just leave me alone.

Either MichaelJackson is working... in a recording studio in L.A... or he's here with you willing to work on this song.

It's your choice.

So long.

Wait, wait, Michael!

Go sit at the piano, and I'll boil some coffee.

♪ [ Singing To Theme From Bridge on the River Kwai ]

Uh, no.

Bart, we've got to get... to your real feelings about your sister.

I don't have any.

Let's go look at her.

Maybe that will help.

Oh, she looks sad.

That's 'cause she knows you're looking at her.

Although I know you're looking at me, I would look exactly the same, even if you weren't.

Bart, think.

What happens to you... when you turn eight?

Well, your training wheels come off your bike.

Good. That's good.

You're just putting that in... because it's commercial.

Lisa.

Lisa.

Lisa.

Lisa.

Lisa.

Lisa.

What, Bart? It's 6:00 a.m.

That's right.

Hope you like your present.

And a-one and a-two and a-one, two, three, four.

Yeah!

Oh, this is the best present I ever got!

Thank you, Bart. Thank you, Michael.

My work is done here.

What happened to your voice?

This is my real voice.

I'm Leon Compowski.

I'm a bricklayer from New Jersey.

All my life I was angry, until one day...

I talked like this.

All of a sudden... everybody was smiling at me.

So, I kept on doing it.

To make a tired point, which one of us is truly crazy?

Not me. I got this.

Bye-bye, Leon.

You're a credit to dementia.

Take it away, Lise.

Hoo!

Shh!