04x11 - A Star Is Abhorred

[bunniefuu]

[door creaks open]

[whistles]

[duck quacks]

[sirens wailing in distance]

Welcome to O'McManohan's
Old-Fashioned Pub Incorporated.

May I tell you
about our fun, fun specials

like our all-you-can-eat-
shuffle-off-to-buffalo wings,

our baby-oh-baby back ribs,
or our leaning tower of pizza?

Get it?

"Pizza."

Save your Co2, Pee-Wee,

because nothing could be
more special to me

than your finest malt liquor.

By the way, it just to happens
to be all our birthdays tonight,

so keep bringing
the complimentary

chilled monkey brains,
or whatever it is you people do.

And I'll have a Shirley Temple.

I suppose you'll want
to see some I.D.

Only if you're applying for
the senior citizen's discount.

Eh-heh-heh-heh.

[mimicking]:
Eh-heh-heh-heh.

[screams]

'Fess up, Dad.

Why'd you take us
out to dinner tonight?

To swipe a few tips
off the tables?

To steal bottles
from the dumpster
for the recycling money?

To fall face first
into the urinal

just so you could sue
the restaurant?

Face first...

urinal.

Well, they're all
pretty good suggestions,

but the real honest-to-Godfrey
reason we're here

is to spend more
quality time

as a family unit.

Uh...

and...

so that...

I, uh...

could, um...

pick up desperate, emotionally
damaged middle-aged women

by pretending to be
a devoted single dad!

[blubbering]

You remind me of
my fourth husband

right before he
blew his brains out.

[wheezing cough]

Buy me a drink?

Be careful, Duckman.

A cursory
olfactory analysis

of this woman's sweat glands
indicates that decades

of alcohol ingestion have
permeated her cellular structure

and made her a prime candidate
for spontaneous combustion.

Say what?

Oh... my...
dear, sweet Lord!

So, who wants
potato skins?

Um, perhaps the best way

to take our minds off the smell
of burning flesh

is to begin
tonight's karaoke contest!

[audience exclaiming excitedly]

Hot, steaming diggity.

I'd like to sing
some Beethoven.

Ajax, you can't karaoke
to Beethoven.

You need something
with lyrics.

[laughing]

And to think
I've been practicing

my whole life.

[sound of orchestra playing
Beethoven's Ode To Joy]

[music stops]

What do you say,
Corn Syrup?

Blow their minds
with our patented
Sonny and Cher medley?

I'd love to, except
my sequined squaw outfit's

still at the cleaner's.

Well, then let's focus
all our energies

into making sure you-know-who
doesn't head up there and...

BERNICE [over mic]:
Evening, folks.
How you doing tonight?

Waah!

I'd like to start off

with a song

by one of our country's
greatest natural resources,

Mr. Marvin Hamlisch.

[screaming]
MAN: No! No!

[all clamoring]

Sorry, lady.

We don't have
any Hamlisch.

Then, uh, perhaps
something by, um...

Oh, I don't know, uh,
Andrew Lloyd Webber?

[audience screaming, g*nshots]

No Webber! No Webber!

[screaming stops]

Maybe you should tell me
what songs you do have.

Since we put
all our profits

into buying more
umbrellas for our
fun, fun drinks,

the only karaoke
song we have is

"Pop! Goes the Weasel."

[intro to
"Pop! Goes the Weasel" plays]

Maybe we should slow things
down a bit.

[slow, romantic intro begins]

[in sultry voice]:
♪ All around the mulberry bush

♪ The monkey chased

♪ The weasel

♪ The monkey thought
it was all in fun ♪

[breathy]:
♪ Pop!

♪ Goes

♪ The weasel.

[cricket chirping]

Karaoke-- Japan's cruelest
invention since hari-kari.

[audience laughing]

Duckman, please.

But I want to tell you--

Greenpeace ought to ban
"wailing" like that.

Duckman, I am
warning you!

Man, I've heard sweeter-sounding
death rattles.

Yeah, you got a trained voice...
and it derailed.

Polyps want a cr*cker?

That is it!

[rhythmic cadence]:
For years you've mocked me!

Well, I don't have
to take your crap--

those putdowns and insults!

Well, I don't have
to take your crap,

you craven oaf,
you witless dope!

I don't have
to take your crap!

[applause and cheering]

[whistling]

Hey, there, I'm Rube Richter,

President of
Def Mute Records.

Never before
have I heard anyone

so passionately
articulate the anger

of today's
modern-day woman.

You're like
Alannis Morissette--

only much less
weird-looking.

Why exactly are you
telling me this?

First thing tomorrow,

I want you
in the studio

so we can get
these rants on record.

Baby, I'm going
to make you a star.

Me?

A star?

[melodramatic music playing]

Me... a star.

[dreamy music playing]

Knock it off!

Bernice, this here's
your producer-engineer,

Street Daddy Crip.

Word up.

Just lay down
what you did last night,

and we'll be
on top of the charts,

number one with a b*llet.

Do people still use those
archaic expressions?

Take a chill pill, Daddy-O.
[clicks tongue]

[hip-hop/techno rock blend]

[rhythmically challenged]:
♪ For years,
you have mocked me ♪

♪ Well, I simply
will not take it anymore ♪

♪ And I'm quite serious
about that... ♪

[stammering]

♪ Shut your mouth,
close your trap ♪

♪ Shut your mouth,
close your trap ♪

♪ Shut your mouth...

Something's wrong here.

Something's missing.

I've heard more passion
from a Narcoleptic Quaker.

I still can't believe
that never sold.

This recipe for success

is missing
one very pungent ingredient.

[indifferently]:
♪ For years, you've mocked me ♪

♪ Well, I don't have
to take your crap... ♪

[yawning]

Oh, Bernice,
that was you.

I thought I stumbled into some
sort of a sonic slaughterhouse.

[with more energy]:
♪ Those putdowns and insults!

♪ Well, I don't have
to take your crap! ♪

Wonderful, Bernice.
Just wonderful.

Shed a few hundred pounds,
you'll be the next Mama Cass.

[snarling ferocity]:
♪ You craven oaf,
you witless dope! ♪

♪ I don't have
to take your crap! ♪

[slurping]

RICHTER:
Congratulations!

According to the latest
SoundScansurvey,

you just recorded
the number-one song

[popping]
in the country.

Now get ready for "Bernice:
The Hear-Her-Roar Tour."



ALL:
A tour?

Well, I guess
this is it.

Wish I could have gotten
to know you better

but between your
constant putdowns,

and my unusual
bathroom habits--

well, sometimes these things
work out, sometimes they don't.

Arrivederci, Roma.
It's time we say...

Actually, Duckman,
we'd like you to join the tour

as, uh, Director of, um...
Motivational Services.

Uh-huh, let me make sure
the chronic caterwauling

hasn't burst my eardrums.

Did you just say you want me
to accompany her on...?

Hmm... Franklin
discovered electricity,

but what if I need
a stove, too?

And an almanac.

What exactly are my duties?

You'll earn a weekly salary
by tapping into Bernice's psyche

channeling
her pain and...

Just keep cheesing her off,
okay?

Well, Lord knows
I'll give it a try.

Now, if you'd kindly point me
toward the powder room,

I got me a mike
stand to pass.

I hate to spoil the party,

but I never agreed
to any tour.

Recording the song was fun,

but abandoning my role
as surrogate mom

for a full-time ride

on the sweaty underbelly
of rock 'n' roll?

I'm sorry, Rube,
but I'll have to say no.

But Aunt Bernice, this is a
once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Good point.

You can reach people
through the power of music,

change their very lives.

What he said.

And the kiddies
can tag along and
see the country.


All right!

Praise the Lord.

Just know that anytime you feel
you've had enough,

say the word and we'll go
straight home. Deal?

Deal!
Deal!

Uh-uh-uh.

Put the hugs
on hold, Bernice.

It's makeover time.

Blood-splattered tiara?

Mud-stained combat boots?

Dirty, sweaty wedding dress?

I don't know, Rube.

Do you really think this is me?

Bernice, from the moment
I first saw your face,

I knew you were more special
than special could possibly be.

If you'll just place yourself
under my tutelage,

well, I'll make you
the shiniest star

on this whirly-twirly
teacup ride we call life.

Oh, do you really mean that,
Rube?

It's not just some shameless,
self-serving lie?

Baby! I'm a record company
executive.

Hi. I'm Kurt Loder
and this is MTV News.

Def Mute's unlikely new
recording artist, Bernice,

is causing quite a stir
on the club scene lately.

Female audiences everywhere
can't seem to get enough

of the snarling chanteuse's

"Mess With Me, Guys,
And I'll Mess With You" lyrics.

[upbeat music playing]

BERNICE:
♪ I'll tear your arms off ♪

♪ And your legs off

♪ And your [bleep] off

♪ And then I'll make you
eat them ♪

♪ I'll make you eat them ♪

♪ I'll make you
eat them ♪

♪ I'll make you eat them! ♪

♪ I'll make you eat them!! ♪

♪ I'll make you eat them!!! ♪

♪ I'll make you eat them! ♪

Bernice's popularity
continues to grow.

Legions of female fans,

or "Bernicians"
as they prefer to be called,

are emulating
their outspoken spokesperson.

She, like, totally understands
our anger against guys.

♪ Hate you, hate you, hate you,
hate you, hate you ♪

♪ Hate you, hate you,
hate you, hate you, hate you ♪

♪ Hate you, hate you

♪ H-a-a-ate you!

Oh, I love her lyrics,
especially the "hate" part.

I don't know,
like, how she does it--

like, what her secret is.

Well, it's official.

The country's come down

with a serious case
of Bernice fever.

It's hard to pick up
a magazine lately

and not see the dynamic diva's
face on the cover.

Will this tour
ever end?

Seems like
we were born
on this bus.

But look on the bright side.

I've been able to moon people
in 28 states.

[unzips zipper]
DUCKMAN: Make that 29!

As Bernice continues
to climb the charts,

she transcends the boundaries
of pop music

to become a bona fide
social phenomenon.

Nancy from Secaucus, New Jersey,
writes:

"Dear Casey,
after all these years,

"I finally realized

"that my husband is a lying,
cheating sack of filth.

"I'd like nothing more
than to flambé his 'nads

"and serve them
to all my guests.

"So, Casey, for that special
person I hate so much,

"please play
'Burn In Hell, My Baby',

"the latest song

by that vociferous voice
of my generation: Bernice."

[Bernice screaming]

LODER:
And stay tuned for tonight's
MTV Music Awards

featuring performances
by Soundgarden,

Smithereens,
the liver of David Crosby

and the long-awaited
television debut of Bernice.

Aunt Bernice, since you have
a few hours before the awards,

we were hoping to do
a little sightseeing.

I'm b*rned out, dudes.

We hardly see
you anymore.

Even Courtney Love says

you're a reckless and
irresponsible parent.

And that you wear
too much makeup.

Hey, boy... it's tough on top.

You try being responsible
for this tour and this record

and having
that damn Annie Leibovitz

follow you everywhere you go.

And another thing,

I don't know quite
how to say this,

but you've been partying
an awful lot lately.

When was the last time
you worked out?

Well, things got pretty sweaty

between me and Cypress Hill
last night.

Aunt Bernice,
let's go home.

We want things to be
the way they were before.

Please?

[door opens]

[fans yelling and screaming]

Aunt Bernice
Aunt Bernice!
Aunt Bernice!

Don't go!
Wait!
What about us?

Please! Come back.

[audience cheering]

Well, we finally
made it, Corn--

the MTV Awards.

Can't wait
until Bush performs.

I didn't know Bush
was your favorite band.

It's a band?

Hey, Ice-T, did you see
that one coming, too?

All the way down Sunset, man.

We've got trouble.

It's Aunt Bernice.

Okay. What'd she do
this time?

Belittle
her befuddled assistants?

Punch out more paparazzi?

Throw up in Kennedy's hair?

That was all you, Dad.

I threw up on Kennedy?

[gagging]

Aunt Bernice
is starting to
lose herself.

She's being seduced
by the decadence

and narcissism
of rock 'n' roll.

We want to go home.

Wait, whoa, stop, huh?
Are you saying

you've sopped up enough
of the Bernice gravy train?

Kidulas, this is
the very best thing

that's ever happened to us.

Hey, we're hanging out
with Tommy Lee!

But none of it's
worth anything

if Aunt Bernice has
to pay the price.

Uh, no offense,
Tommy.

[sobbing]

Dad, we're afraid if
Aunt Bernice keeps this up,

we may lose her forever.

DUCKMAN:
Whoo-hoo!

Duckman, if anything
should happen to Bernice,

you'll be left with her
familial and domestic duties.

You'll be in charge
of all the cooking and cleaning,

feeding Grandma-Ma,
raising Ajax, Charles and Mambo.

Bilbo.
Whatever.

Whatever. You'll be
the sole parent, Duckman,

responsible for them


seven days a week,
every single day

for the rest of your life,

[echoing]: life, life, life...

Bernice,
don't fear the Reaper!

I'm a-coming to save you!

Uh, lay some sugar
on me, Ruby baby.

Yeah, I'd like that.

I really would,

but I've got to
conduct some, uh...

important music
mogul thingies.

Bernice don't need you!

Bernice don't need anybody!

Bernice number one
in Southeastern Denmark!

Well, well, well...

if it isn't
the downy down nut.

Bernice, I know I've said this
every day since we first met,

but you look horrible.

How could you be so selfish?

Throwing your life away
on booze,

ignoring your family.

But have you once
ever thought about me?

I want to go out,
have a few drinks,

get away from the family,

and I can't do that
if you're not there.

Have you no shame?

Now, come on!
We're taking you home,

hosing you down,
and you're making us fish cakes!

How can I be so selfish?!

[screams]

Ladies and gentlemen,

uh, Sheryl Crow...

the Black Crowes...

Counting Crows...

and the winner for the least
annoying Crow music is...

[Duckman screams]

[grunting]

[cheering]

EMCEE:
Ladies and gentlemen...

Bernice!

[Duckman groaning and grunting]
[hip-hop/techno rock blend
plays]

See how she loves it?

She'll never give up
rock 'n' roll.

I guess it means more
to her than we do.

♪ You're the one
who ignores your children! ♪

♪ You're the one
who puts your needs first! ♪

♪ All you think about
is me, me, me! ♪

[crash]
♪

BERNICE:
Stop the music.

Stop the music!

[music stops]

What's happening to me?

My God, what have I been doing?

Keep pounding him, Bernice.

Show him who's boss.

AUDIENCE [chanting]:
Bernice!

Bernice!

Bernice!

Bernice!

Bernice!

Bernice!

No!

Bernice!

There's another song
I want to sing,

and I want to dedicate it
to my nephews.

[soft music playing]

♪ A child

♪ Is like a flower

♪ That grows

♪ Before your eyes

♪ As the seasons pass

♪ Children grow so fast

♪ Soon they're reaching
for the skies ♪

♪ And you realize

♪ It's been home and hearth
all along ♪

♪ Home and hearth
that make a family strong ♪

♪ From summer

♪ To winter

♪ From spring to fall

♪ It's been home and hearth
all along ♪

♪ After...

[audience booing]

Bernice, you
sang about love,

commitment, compassion.

Are you insane?

People aren't looking
for tenderness

in their angry
girrl rockers.

They want blood.

You're finished, Bernice,
wiped out, through!

In that case,
let this be my swan song.

What am I going to do?

What am I
going to do?!

Stanislaus the janitor tired

from the crazy rock stars

with their crazy
rock star vomit.

[speaking
foreign gibberish]

Wait. That's brilliant.

Never before
have I heard anyone

so passionately
articulate the anger

of today's modern-day
Eastern European janitors.

Come with me, Stanislaus.

I'm going to
make you a star.

I want to apologize to you kids.

We're a family,

and the truth is,
I need you to take care of me

as much as I need
to take care of you.

Now, what do you say
we go home

and return to our old,
wonderfully boring lives?

Yay!
Yay!
Yay!

Excuse me.

I'm the governor
of our great state,

and I have
some very bad news.

Congressman Kelk has had a fatal

and incredibly ironic
heart att*ck

while engaging
in an act of necrophilia.

[sniffs]

The only guy I ever voted for...

Democracy sucks.

Bernice, while I've
always been aware

of your pain-in-the-ass
civic activism,

you have now also
become the embodiment

of, quote, "family values,"
unquote, period.

Thank you for
the kind words,

but why are you
telling me this?

Bernice, I hereby
appoint you congresswoman.

Me?

A congresswoman?

[melodramatic music plays]

It wasn't me that time.

I swear.

["Yankee Doodle" overlapping
melodramatic music]

♪ I'll tear your arms off ♪

♪ And your legs off

♪ And your [bleep] off

♪ And then

♪ I'll make you eat them ♪

♪ I'll make you eat them! ♪

♪ I'll make you eat them ♪

♪ I'll make you eat them. ♪

[Tommy Lee sobbing]