—ockman, just outside the county courtroom where an argument about chowder has spilled over into the biggest trial in Springfield history. Behind these doors, a federal judge will ladle out steaming bowls of rich, creamy justice in a case the media have dubbed "Beat-Up Waiter". [pfft] This reporter suggested "Waitergate", but was shouted down at the press club. Now, it's illegal to televise court proceedings in this state, [whispers] so we'll have to be quiet. [courtroom doors close in his face] Dooh—!
Well, Bart, your Uncle Arthur used to have a saying: "Shoot 'em all and let God sort them out." Unfortunately, one day he put his theory into practice. It took 75 Federal Marshals to bring him down. Now let's never speak of this again. [she then starts humming and dusting the TV]
I know you can read my thoughts, Bart. Just a little reminder: If I find out you cut class, your ass is mine. Yeah, you heard me. I think words I would never say. [camera pans left to Homer]
If he marries your mother, Marge, we'll be brother and sister! And then our kids... they'll be horrible freaks with pink skin, no overbites, and five fingers on each hand!
[Homer imagines his children as more realistic-looking humans, screams and runs from the room]
[stops playing organ, trying to pounds the window] Mrs. Bouvier! Mrs. Bouvier! [Glass breaks, he falls to the church floor, saved Jacqueline] Mrs. Bouvier!
[voice only, in credits] I first took a fancy to Mrs. Bouvier because her raspy voice reminded me of my old Victrola. Oh, it was a fine machine with a vulcanized rubber listening tube which you crammed in your ear! The tube would go in easy with some sort of lubricant like linseed oil or Dr. Shumway's... [the Gracie Films logo appears] Oops. I'm sorry!
Oh... and how is "education" supposed to make me feel smarter? Besides, every time I learn something new, it pushes some old stuff out of my brain. Remember when I took that home wine-making course and I forgot how to drive?