Mm-hmm.
Hello, I’d like to vote for president, governor,
and anything that will take money away
from our parks and libraries.
Eh, use machine number three.
I can’t fit in the booth!
Use the double-wide.
Ooh!
One of those electronic voting dealies.
One vote for McCain. Thank you.
No, I want to vote for Obama.
Two votes for McCain.
Huh?!
Come on. It’s time for a change.
Three votes for McCain.
No! No! No!
Six votes for President McCain.
Hey, I only meant one of those votes for McCain.
This machine is rigged.
Must… tell.. President McCain.
This doesn’t happen in America.
Maybe Ohio, but not in America!
Okay…
all I need is a Christmas gift for Lisa.
I don’t have time to read all that.
Montreal Expos jersey.
Somber String.
Jacks, no ball.
And a Slunky.
Oh, I wouldn’t give these to my worst enemy,
which happens to be Lisa.
Girls don’t like trucks.
Come back when you’re something else.
Perfect!
Merry Christmas, Dad.
We bought you three more minutes of oxygen.
Oh, thank you, son!
Can I play with it outside?
Can I?! Can I?!
Sure.
Hey, Lis, I think I see one with your name on it.
I don’t know how you could top last year’s gift…
a box of your burps.
Yeah. Here’s your stocking stuffer.
Wow! A Malibu Stacey convertible!
Oh, Bart, an actual present.
That’s right, Maggie. It’s a car.
Let’s go to the…
Pos-i-bots, transform!
Snooze!
Threeway!
Melody!
What?
Wait a minute. We’re missing Sex-Toy.
Where have you been?
Where haven’t I been?
Hmm. Is there something different
about the kitchen?
No.
Well, the toaster’s never lied to me before.
Hep, two, three, four…
Nice planet.
Whoa!
Pos-i-bot, engage.
Battle commencing in ten, nine, eight…
Hey!
Hey, Homer. How was your Christmas?
It was okay. I got Seinfeld, Season 7.
Finally a boxing day that lives up to its name.
Lisa! What’s happening?!
Well, if I had to guess,
I’d say that two alien robot races,
who’ve been battling for centuries, have chosen
our planet as a site for their ultimate confrontation.
It is a good planet to settle things on.
Stop it! Stop it!
Look, you have made the nacho machine cry.
Cool!
Carnage Destructicus,
the moment has arrived: our final battle.
Your final battle, Bestimus Mucho!
Stop it!
Just because you’re mad at each other,
doesn’t mean you have to destroy our town.
That does not compute.
Really?!
It computes a little.
What’s this whole intergalactic tiff about anyway?
You know I, I… I don’t remember.
Neither do I.
Hmm. Maybe the non-transforma thing is right.
Thank you, human grandmother,
for pointing out that it is futile to fight
if we do not know why.
And now that we are not fighting each other,
we can team up
to enslave your planet.
That’s great!
Because working together, you can…
Oh…
Okay, who’s the idiot who taught them what foosball was?
I thought they might enjoy it.
Okay, Maggie, we’ll be back in three hours.
Or longer if something happens to us.
Maybe we shouldn’t do this.
She doesn’t know anyone here.
Look, sweetie, there’s a familiar face…
Krusty!
Hey, hey, kids!
Your old pal Krusty’s gonna teach you five new words:
unlicensed use of my image.
All right, boys.
See those Krustys nobody paid me for?
Sandblast them!
Entertain the troops?
No way!
What have they ever done for me?!
Krusty, you made my daughter cry!
Hey, my intellectual property rights were being infringed.
Do you know how that feels?
Do ya?! Huh?! Do ya?!
One, two, three.
Oh! It’s no use.
Mr. Simpson, you have quite a talent
for killing celebrities.
Well…
I’m no drunk driving.
I’d like to introduce you to some stereotypical ad men.
Simpson, we got a swell little notion for you.
Did you know you can put a dead celebrity in a commercial
and you don’t have to pay them a thing?
Oh, my God, you finally did it.
You mixed Buzz Cola
with the smooth, rich taste of lemon.
Unfortunately, there are certain stars who won’t do what we want.
What’s their problem?
They’re still alive.
And then we thought,
"Who’s good at killing celebrities?"
Me!
That’s right.
Homer, would you be willing to acquire some more, um…
uh, accounts for us?
Well, you know, it is awfully hot today.
Now I’m too cold.
Mmm.
* Psycho killer *
* Qu’est-ce que c’est? *
* Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa far better *
* Run, run, run, run, run, run, run away *
* Oh-oh-oh *
* Psycho Killer *
* Qu’est-ce que c’est? *
* Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa far better *
* Run, run, run, run, run, run, run away *
* Oh-oh-oh-oh… *
* Ay-yi-yi-yi-yi *
* Oh, oh *
* Psycho Killer *
* Qu’est-ce que c’est? *
* Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa far better *
* Run, run, run, run, run, run, run away. *
We can’t just sit here while they exploit our images!
Hey, John Wayne,
have you heard about stockswapper.org’s
low, low transaction fees?
Sounds… like… quite… a… deal… pilgrim!
I hate… trans… action… fees!
Hey, George Washington,
see if you think this is funny.
It’s the Springfield Wedding Chapel’s annual
President’s Day marriage-a-thon!
That ad implies
that Mr. Lincoln and I are…
betraying familiarities!
It’s an outrage.
Yes, uh, an outrage.
So, are we gonna sit here flapping our jaws,
or are we gonna do something about it?
Now wait
just a gosh-darn minute here.
We can’t go taking the law into our own hands.
These are people with hopes and dreams and-and, uh…
Put a sock in it, mushmouth!
All we are saying is
"Let’s eat some brains"!
Great party, Homer!
Murdering Kate Winslet paid for that chocolate fountain.
Huh?
G-g-g-golda Meir!
Ah, you ripped me off. See?
No, I didn’t. See!
You’re gonna pay for what you done. See!
I always thought I’d die of hepatitis… C.
Rip Taylor?
You’re not even dead!
Someone needs to check my apartment.
Let’s get him!
Little Sister, is that moustache comin’ or goin’?
Well, your wife likes it.
You’re all right, Goofy Grape.
People, please.
We’re here to kill this jerk.
Before you kill me, I gotta know…
what is the one true religion?
It’s a mix of voodoo and Methodist.
Shouldn’t have left the key under the mat, suckers!
So what do you do for fun around here?
Well, tonight we’ve got a poker tournament
at the rec center.
Ooh!
After you, Mr. Pennyface.
Is your wife up here?
Well, uh, we have an understanding.
Mmm.
Phew!
Good grief.
I like your witch costume, Lisa.
I’m not a witch. I’m a Wiccan.
Why is it when a woman is confident and powerful,
they call her a witch?
What did you say, Mom?
Nothing.
I’m practicing my trombone.
So, what are you wearing
to the Halloween party, Milhouse?
I’m not going to the party.
I’m going to the pumpkin patch
to wait for the Grand Pumpkin!
That means "you kids have fun"!
What’s the Grand Pumpkin?
Every Halloween,
the Grand Pumpkin visits
all the pumpkin patches in the world
and brings candy to kids who truly believe!
Milhouse, for the last time,
I made that up to mess with you.
The Grand Pumpkin isn’t real!
I appreciate you testing my faith, Bart,
but it’s not necessary.
I believe in the Grand Pumpkin, almighty gourd,
who was crustified over Pontius Pie-plate,
and ascended into oven.
He will come again to judge the filling and the bread…
Sigh.
You’ve all come
to wait for the Grand Pumpkin with me!
Who wants to sing pumpkin carols?
I’ve got a pumpkin carol for you.
* You are such a stupid moron *
* It makes people want to punch you *
* The Grand Pumpkin’s superga-ay *
* Punch, punch, punch, punch, wedgie! *
Your god is wrong!
Let’s get to the Halloween party.
I want to hit the apple tank
before all the Granny Smiths are bobbed out.
Lis, you comin’?
Eh, I think I’ll stay with Milhouse.
His glasses fog up when he cries.
More Granny Smiths for me.
Lisa, Lisa, wake up!
- He’s here! - What?
The Grand Pumpkin is here?!
No. I’m rehearsing what I’m gonna say when he shows up.
He’s here! He’s here!
He is here!
You owe me restitution!
If he sees us fighting, he might not come.
Grand Pumpkin,
I know you’re real.
Why won’t you show yourself?!
Why?
Whoa!
Happy Halloween!
The Grand Pumpkin!
You are real!
That’s right, Milhouse.
Your childlike belief has brought me to life!
I knew you’d come!
I even baked you a loaf of homemade pumpkin bread!
Oh, how delightful…
bread made especially for pumpkins.
- Mm-hmm. - Actually,
it’s made from pumpkins.
Wha…?!
Uh-oh.
Revenge!
I’m gonna give you crossed eyes
like you might see on an idiot,
a stupid triangle nose,
and a big mouth
full of the ugliest shaped teeth there are…
square.
And I’m gonna make your friends watch.
No!
Ladies.
Stupid.
Everybody, listen!
The Grand Pumpkin is real!
Hey!
No hard-soled shoes!
Oh, God!
Everywhere I look…
pumpkin atrocities!
Care for a pumpkin seed?
You roast the unborn?
Touch me and I’ll cut your friend!
What do I care?
That’s a yellow pumpkin.
You’re a racist!
All pumpkins are racist.
The difference is I admit it!
I’d rather die than hate!
This is all my fault!
The Grand Pumpkin said my childlike belief
was what made him come to life!
Belief, eh?
Say, Milhouse, have you by any chance
ever heard of "Tom Turkey"?
No. Who is he and what’s his origin story?
Um…
well, Tom is a magical turkey
who gave the pilgrims the technology
to put buckles on their hats.
Now he appears every Thanksgiving
to children who believe.
Sounds plausible.
Tom Turkey, help me.
I believe in you.
Are you looking for a particular part of my brain or…
Halt, yon pumperkin
most succulent and plump!
I be Tom Turkey!
A giant talking turkey?
Preposterous!
Prepare for the Almighty’s judgment,
thou stinking fruit of rotted vine!
Pumpkin segregation forever!
I can’t live on the outside.
I can’t!
Milhouse, your childlike innocence saved us all!
Tom, how can we repay you?
How about a Thanksgiving feast?
You can carve the turkey.
You eat turkeys?!
Oh, yeah.
It’s delicious!
Especially when we take stuffing
and shove it up the turkey’s…
Revenge!
Looks like those kids found the true spirit of Halloween.
Or Thanksgiving.
Or whatever.
And for those of you who feel
like we’ve trampled on a beloved children’s classic,
I encourage you to write to the following address.
Happy Holidays, everyone!
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