The Man in the Blue Flannel Pants

Hey.

(yelling)

(laughing)

Is there any better feeling than waiting for a live Krusty show to start?

Maybe watching your bride coming down the aisle.

Hmm.

(organ plays discordant music)

(grunting)

(sobbing)

Why does she get to eat before the reception?

(sobbing)

♪ The Simpsons 23x07 ♪ The Man in the Blue Flannel Pants Original Air Date on November 27, 2011

Seltzer bottle connected and pressurized?

Check.

Roll-up dicky set to six?

Nope. 11. (gasps)

My comedy comes from taking risks.

Or avoiding them, I can't remember.

Krusty, we need to talk.

Make it fast.

I got a coiled up spring ready to boi-oi-oi-oi-oing.

Oh, why can't I be funny with just my words?

Bill Maher doesn't put dangerous things near his crotch, except when he's off work.

(laughs) Yeah.

It's about your vodka, Absolut Krusty.

We're having trouble persuading people it's hip to drink a vodka made by a clown, in a bottle shaped like a clown, that does this when you open it.

(ooga horn sounds)

(laughs)

Always gets me.

Yeah, plus, that TV special where you drank another brand of vodka didn't help.

I used up my stuff poisoning deer.

If we're ever gonna sell your vodka, we need to do something completely unorthodox-- a viral marketing campaign.

(metallic creaking)

People are more likely to drink your vodka if they think all their coolest friends are drinking it.

So, we pay for a big party at the home of a Springfield trendsetter.

Your Brockman, your Bumblebee Man...

He invites his cool friends, we serve free cocktails, made with your vodka, generating buzz.

We got buzz.

Positive buzz.

That exists? Wow.

So, all you have to do is find one of your loyal fans whose house we can trash and friends you can exploit.

(metallic creaking)

(gasps, grunts)

I need a drink.

Not that!

Never that!

(theme music plays)

Hey, hey, kids!

Who wants to host a viral marketing event?

All: Yay!

All you have to do is write me a letter about how hip and influential your parents are.

Milhouse, I'm gonna win that thing.

How do you know, Bart?

Maybe for once I'll win.

Children of troubled marriages not eligible.

Oh!

(birds singing)

So, uh, why are you here?

Is it about that unauthorized Krusty lookalike I hired for Lisa's first communion?

What was his name?

Krappy the Klunk. See?

Homer, we're here to throw the most redonkulous marketing outreach this town's ever seen.

All you have to do is invite every cool person you know.

Hey, I wrote the application.

Do any of my friends get to come?

One friend.

He can listen to music with headphones on, he gets one slice of cheese pizza, and if the party gets slow, he has to pretend to let Krusty save him from drowning.

Redonkulous!

Off the dilge!

(dance music playing)

(tires squeak)

(crowd chatter)

This party is so much better than the crummy ones we plan.

(laughs)

I hope Bart's having fun.

And that's why John Gielgud is more of a father to me than my own father.

Where's the nachos you promised?

There'll be time enough for nachos!

Why can't I go to the grown-up room?

You said the clown scared you.

Well, he did a little.

(crowd chatter and laughter)

Boy, everyone from the nuclear plant is here.

Except the bosses, of course.

Yeah, even Homer's not dumb enough to invite...

Burns: So!

This is the famous party.

Feh.

Guh.

Pffoy.

(crowd chatter)

He's destroying our youthful demographic!

Oh, God, I need a drink!

So the car in front of us forgot to validate his... uh...

(laughing): I was in an anecdote once.

Um, I have surgery in the morning.

Yeah, and I'm the one having the surgery.

(sighs)

Homer, you're the nominal host.

Do something!

Oh! Uh! Oh!

Mr. Burns, so glad you're here.

Finally, the party can get started.

Your cotillion seems to be in full promenade.

(laughs): Good one.

Uh, Mr. Burns, everyone is dying to hear you sing karaoke.

Come on, just pick a popular song.

Do you have anything by Prince...

Wilhelm of Prussia?

I have 16 million songs, but, uh, no.

Just play the oldest, stupidest thing in your catalog.

Uh, let me check my beeswax cylinders.

Uh, here we are.

♪ Come Josephine in my flying machine! ♪ ♪ Going up she goes, up she goes ♪ ♪ Balance yourself like a bird on a beam ♪

All: ♪ In the air she goes, there she goes. ♪

(applause and cheering, Mr. Burns chuckles)

May you all fly in an aeroplane someday.

You certainly seem to be enjoying yourself, sir.

Indeed. That Homer Simpson is the beating baboon heart of this party.

So he says, "Bigamy is having one too many wives."

To which I replied, "So's monogamy."

(laughter)

Oh, yeah!

I may have a use for this Simpson character higher up in the organization.

Really? Well, as safety inspector, he hasn't exactly set the world on fire, although he came close several times.

(crow caws)

Simpson, you're probably wondering why you're here.

It's never good.

I always wind up being chased by hounds, or falling through a trapdoor, or being a peg in your game of human croquet.

When I made you a hoop, you split your pants.

Now, here at the plant, there's no position more important than our accounts man, who's responsible for glad-handing our customers and suppliers.

I'd like you to take over that position.

The last thing I understood in that was "pants."

Just give me your answer, and make it quick!

Our current account man, Robert Marlowe here, is retiring at the end of the month.

In two weeks, the only tie I'll be wearing is for autoerotic pleasure.

Yes. Simpson, only you have the bonhomie and rotund charm to replace him.

It means a hefty expense account and a corner office.

Well, in that case...

Before you say yes, Simpson, I feel it's my duty to warn you, account men lose their soul.

Woo-hoo! No more church!

(door squeaks open and shut)

So long, Sector 7-G.

Hello, Sector 22-F!

(elevator bell dings)

(gasps)

(sizzling)

(giggling)

Uh.

The higher they rise, the further they fall!

You know, you're kind of a downer.

I thought you were retiring.

Why are you still here?

Hey, you're a baby account man.

Still on the bottle.

So, for my last good deed before I retire, I'm going to help you persuade Mayor Quimby to sign off on a nuclear rate hike.

Uh-oh, a meeting with the mayor.

How do I prepare for that?

(chuckles)

I see.

Now, how do I prepare for the meeting with the mayor?

I am really enjoying this, but, um...

Hello! Meeting with the mayor?

(glass breaking)

Aw. Bourbon go bye-bye.

There ain't enough bourbon in Kentucky for you, big guy.

Yeah, the governor wrote me a letter to that effect.

Wow, I can't believe I'm eating steak with the mayor.

The next time, I vote for you, it's gonna be on purpose.

Much obliged.

Now, uh, where would you like to discuss your proposed tax breaks?

(laughing)

Mmm.

Hey, Homer!

Look at you, man!

I've outgrown you!

Oh, Mr. Mayor, more peanut nore?

(knocking on window)

(glass squeaking)

(both grunt)

Say what you will, man.

He's pretty resourceful.

(cheering)

Homer: Wow.

These seats are amazing.

And if you don't like the score, you can change it yourself.

(click)

Homer: ♪ Boring. ♪

(click)

God, what a great game!

And you, too, can be on the winning team, Mr. Mayor.

The Springfield Nuclear Team.

I have never heard an analogy involving sports!

I love it!

I can't believe that was work!

Yeah, but work is over now.

Want to drink with me till I fall asleep?

Oh, well...

Mm, I really should look at this picture a little longer.

Hmm.

Okay, let's go.

Great. Now, in honor of my last day on the hamster wheel, I have a little gift for you.

This set of bar tools has been passed down from account man to account man since the dawn of history.

1956.

Can you be my dad?

If your mom was a secretary, there's a good chance I am.

(tires squealing)

(sighs)

Welcome home, handsome!

(both moan)

(laughs)

It's a rat race, but it looks like I won.

Oh, to the victor go the spoils.

Mmm.

Dad, you were supposed to read me a bedtime story.

Oh, sorry, sweetie.

Bart can read it to you.

(Homer and Marge laugh)

Read to Lisa? Why don't you just ask me to kiss her?

If you kissed her, that would be lovely.

I'll read! I'll read!

And kiss.

Does anyone want my opinion?

Please, Lisa.

I had 18 martinis today.

Marge: Hello.

All right, Lis, let's get this stupid bedtime story over with.

Proceed to the page with the butterfly bookmark as I cuddle up with Madam Bunny.

(clears throat)

"If genn-i-oos..."

Genius.

"...is eternal pati...

"pat-eh...

PA-tie..."

Patience. Patience!

Get on with it!

Shut up! Shut up!

I'm a bad reader, okay?!

Well, I could help you.

I don't want your help!

I'll get one of those jobs where you don't need to read, like French fry maker or general.

Well, you're getting my help.

Forget it.

Don't you want to be able to read the things people carve into your chest in prison?

I guess.

♪ ♪

Close enough.

(sighs)

♪ ♪

"But when the helpful voice was silent, "the daily lesson over, the beloved presence gone, "and nothing remained but loneliness and grief, then Jo found her promise very hard to keep."

We did it, Bart.

(groans) I'm a mentor.

Big deal, you taught me to read one book.

No, Bart, you can read other books, too.

What?!

Homie, what are you doing?

My work is so meaningless.

You make electricity.

It runs the hospital.

You can't touch electricity, Marge, you can't feel it.

That's because it would kill you.

It already is killing me, Marge.

You're the only one I can talk to.

My wife just doesn't get it.

I'm your wife.

My job is my wife, loneliness-- my mistress, despair-- my s*x buddy.

Angst is a chick I met online, but then it turned out it was really a guy.

I'm going to bed.

You don't understand me.

Only she understands me.

Another round, kid?

(squeaks)

Hey, uh...

I got here after you did.

I'm sorry to bother you at home, Mr. Marlowe, but my husband's acting pretty odd-- coming home late, drinking in the morning.

Wake me when you get to "odd."

Hmm.

I don't suppose you'd consider taking your old job back so Homie can go back to his old job?

Sorry, Marge, that account job hollowed me out like a cheap chocolate bunny.

I've been divorced three times, I've got a cocktail addiction, a shrimp cocktail addiction, and I can't stop bending women to my sexual will.

Well, you certainly won't be bending me...

Wait, how did I end up in your bedroom?

Lady, I am smoother than an Eisenhower-era freeway.

Look, I came to talk about my husband, and...

How did we get in here?

I think better in the shower.

There's room in here for two.

I'm a happily married woman.

Wow, no woman's ever done that to me before.

Your husband is a lucky man.

I know, and I don't want him to stray from anything except his diet, and I don't really want him to do that.

Marge, I made a big mistake years ago.

I gave up on my family.

Then I gave up on my secret other family.

I missed my son's graduation, my father's funeral, and my dog's best in show.

Don't let Homer make the mistakes I did.

Luann?

It's not what you think.

It's much weirder.

You're reading a chapter book.

For fun!

Bullies, to me.

(both grunt)

Let's see the name of this wedgie ticket.

(gulps)

Little Women?

Are you aware that's another way of saying "girls"?

Look, I had to read it to my sister.

Well, maybe we should hear a little.

And then maybe you'll be hearing from my sisters.

Your fists are sisters?

Yeah, Poke-ahontas and Sock-ajawea!

Nice save.

Get reading.

"And Amy and Jo hugged one another close, and everything was forgotten in one hearty kiss."

End of chapter eight.

You can't stop now.

I want to know if their father comes home.

Does Jo learn to handle her hasty temper?

Does Amy get over her conceitedness?

Aw, come on, guys, it's getting dark.

Okay, but you better be here tomorrow after school.

'Cause we're going to keep making you read us a lame ol' girl's book.

(laughter)

Bart needs to work on differentiating the character voices a little better.

I know, I keep going, "Why is Meg saying that?" and then I realize it's Beth.

(all agreeing)

That's right.

(Homer grunting)

(intercom buzzes)

Receptionist: Your wife is here, Mr. S.

(whispering loudly): Tell her I'm at a meeting, not drinking.

This is a whisper-amplifying intercom.

(screams)

Homer, I want you to come with me and the kids on a family vacation.

Of course, of course.

Family is everything to us company men.

Now, where shall we go on your vacation?

The farthest thing from this office I know: rafting down Rattler River Canyon.

(whimpers)

That's great-- let me run the numbers 'cause I really want the Simpson account.

And give these cigars to your children.

Don't talk to me like I'm a client.

You're not a client, you're the client.

(groans)

Simpson, put on your charm- their-pants-off pants.

The mumpish oafs in Washington are sending their sternest band of nuclear regulators, handpicked to resist all blandishment.

I'll handle it, I always do.

Rafting, eh?

It's a perfect way to entertain them.

Finally, humanity has found a use for water.

Mr. Burns, I can't go rafting with you because-- wait a minute, could this all work?

Oh, no, you don't.

Coggily-doggily.

It all fits.

Mr. Burns, rafting it is.

Excellent.

But Mr. S., you just promised this week to Mrs. S., Master B., and Mamselles L. and M.

Now, relax, Dottie.

Leave everything to me.

(grunts)

Oh, Marge, this is the most romantic trip you ever nagged me into.

And maybe when we get home, we can ride down something else.

Not sure what you're going for, but...

(lusty growl)

(gasps)

Uh, Marge, why don't I catch us some salmon?

(grunting)

D'oh!

(grunting)

It's about time.

We've been making small talk about Mussolini for 15 minutes.

Well, I, uh, found that contact lens I was missing.

Let me just screw her back in.

(pained grunting)

So, everybody good?

Why did you get us...

It's more fun to play with a ball of yarn if it has all the colors in it.

And yarn should be allowed to marry dental floss.

If you've got that, then...

Are you sure you're Martin Scorsese?

(Homer grunts)

Enjoy the outdoors, you stupid kid.

(worried grunting)

This family time is so precious.

Got to go.

(panting)

(murmurs suspiciously)

(grunting)

(unzips, hums)

(zips up)

(grunting)

(grunts wearily)

Homer, I want a Long lsland ice tea, America's most complicated cocktail.

Homer, are you schmoozing those men?

(alarmed shriek)

Huh?

Um, I think we're supposed to get off here.

Take us out first.

Anyone can start a family.

These days no one can find a job.

Let's see, my family gives me love and s*x.

My work gives me money and sleep.

Hurry, we're heading for the falls!

My coworkers are like a family, but in some ways my family is like a family, too.

For God's sakes, Homer, I've given you three children.

Whose side are you on?

Yours, Homie, I'm always on yours.

How ironic.

I survived the Titanic by making a raft out of steerage passengers, and now this.

Marlowe: Mr. Burns, your heart will go on.

(all screaming)

Marlowe, I thought you retired.

I can't-- Treasury bills are paying nothing.

Nothing!

Well, Simpson, you were willing to let me go over a waterfall, but you cut operating expenses by six percent, so you're forgiven.

Thanks.

Now if you'll excuse me, I don't really like bourbon or business talk, just good old Simpson family fun.

Hey, kids, I'm it.

(laughter)

(grunting)

Aah!

(screams)

I'm okay, and I found some gold!

See, luckiest man in the world.

Oh, I'm so glad you're not an accounts man anymore.

Yep, your worries are over.

I'm back to being a boring old safety inspector at a nuclear power plant.

(both moaning)

Shh!