Scenes from the Class Struggle in Springfield/Quotes
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Marge: Homer, I don't think you should wear a short-sleeve shirt with a tie.
Homer: Ohhh, but Sipowicz does it.
Marge: If Detective Sipowicz jumped off a cliff, would you do that too?
Homer: (as he walks away) Ohhh, I wish I was Sipowicz.
Mr. Burns: Quit cogitating, Steinmetz, and use an open-faced club... a sand wedge!
Homer: Mmm....open faced club sandwich.
Evelyn: Attendant, I'd like some gas.
Apu: Yes, I'm sorry, I do not speak English, okay.
Evelyn: But you were just talking to—Apu: Yes, yes. Hot dog, hot dog. Yes sir, no sir. Maybe, okay.
Country Club Gate Attendant: Name, please.
Homer: Simpson family.
Marge: We're not poor!...Well, we're not.
Tom Kite: Now, you don't want to overthink.
Homer: Not an issue.
Tom Kite: Keep your head down.
Homer: (raising his head) Huh?
Tom Kite: Pretend there's no one else here. (Homer scratches his butt with the club and burps)...And just go at your own pace. (Homer hits the ball very close to the hole)....Wow, very impressive. You're a natural, Mr. Simpson.
Homer: Really?
Tom Kite: Uh huh. All you need is your own set of clubs, and stay the hell out of my locker!...you can keep the shoes!
Mr. Burns: (arriving at the gas station in a Ford Quadricycle.) You there, fill it up with petroleum distillate, and re-vulcanize my tires, post-haste!
Mr. Burns: Who is that lavatory links man, Smithers?
Smithers: Homer Simpson, sir. One of the fork and spoon operators from sector 7-G.
Mr. Burns: Well, he's certainly got a loose waggle. Perhaps I've finally found a golfer worthy of a match with Monty Burns, eh?
Smithers: His waggle is no match for yours, sir. I've never seen you lose a game. Except for that one in '74 when you let Richard Nixon win. That was very kind of you, sir.
Mr. Burns: Oh, he just looked so forlorn, Smithers, with his (imitating Nixon) "Oh, I can't go to prison, Monty. They'll eat me alive!" (Smithers laughs) I wonder if this Homer Nixon is any relation?
Smithers: Unlikely, sir. They spell and pronounce their names differently.
Mr. Burns: Bah! Schedule a game and I'll ask him myself.
Bart: Let's go to the Sharper Image. They've got a TV shaped like a '50s diner. Lisa: No, let's go to the Nature Company. They've got a TV assembled by Hopi Indians.
Homer: [gasps] Look at these low, low prices on famous brand-nam electronics!
Bart: Don't be a sap, Dad. These are just crappy knock-offs.
Homer: Pfft. I know a genuine Panaphonics when I see it. And look there's Magnetbox and Sorny.
Homer: [whistles at Marge in her new Chanel outfit] You look great.
Marge: Really? You like it? Oh, I'd love to wear this someplace special.
Homer: Spurlock's Cafeteria, it is.
Homer: What's the point of going out? We're just gonna wind up back here anyway.
Evelyn [to Marge]: Automotive skills and fashion sense. Why, you've come a long way from the girl I knew nothing about in high school. Marge: We ran with our different crowds. You had your debutante balls and... skinny-dipping, and I had my... home shoe repair course.
Lisa: Do I have to go? That country club is a hotbed of exclusionist snobs and status-seeking social climbers.
Marge: I've told you, I don't like you using the word "hotbed". Please, Lisa, we so rarely get to do things like this. And everybody, everybody please be on your best behavior. Bart, no grifting. Bart: [puts a deck of cards in his sleeve] Aw, raspberries.
Susan: I get the sneaking suspicion that L.L. Bean and Eddie Bauer are selling me the same honey.
Marge: I get food in the mail, but in a different way. Every month, Good Housekeeping arrives in my mailbox bursting with recipes. Sometimes the most satisfying meal is the one you cook yourself. [pause from the ladies]
Patricia: Mmm. That's so true, Marge. One night, Wif and I came home late. We decided not to wake Iris, so instead, we microwaved our own soup. [laughs] [the ladies murmur and agree] Of course, it was a horrible mess, but Iris didn't mind cleaning it up.
Bart: That place is weird. A man in the bathroom kept handing me towels until I paid him to stop.
Homer: [holding a stack of towels] Should have held out longer, boy.
Lisa: The rich are different from you and me
Marge: Yes, they're better.
Marge: [thinking] Marge: [thinking] Oh, we've got a winning hand, we can take the rest of the tricks [camera pans higher up] [thinking] Oh, we'd better be careful. The purpose of this game is to make friends. You don't make friends by winning [camera pans higher up] [thinking] Still, there's nothing more popular than a gracious winner. [camera pans to the end of her hair] [thinking] Don't ask me, I'm just hair. Your head ended 18 inches ago.
Homer [reading a book about golf]: Marge, did you know that Kennedy and Lincoln had the same handicap?
Marge: Homer, please. I have to alter this suit so it looks different for tomorrow.
Homer: [yawns] Just slap some bumper stickers on it and come to bed, will you, Marge?
Lisa [riding on a pony]: Mom, look, I found something more fun than complaining!
Rauberta: Love your outfit, Marge. The vest says "Let's have lunch" but the culottes say "You're paying".
Marge: I'll be there with bells on.
Susan: Bells? Where exactly will you be attaching them to that tattered Chanel suit?
Evelyn: Don't worry, Marge. Her idea of wit is nothing more than an incisive observation humorously phrased and delivered with impeccable timing.
Homer: Oh, this game could mean big things for me, Marge. If I beat Mr. Burns, I mean really wallop him bad, I'm sure to get that big raise I've been gunning for!
Marge: All right, all right, but if you win, don't make a scene and dance around with your "woo-hoo"s, please! We can't afford a single slipup. They're judging us.
[Homer kisses Marge and Lisa, who is on the bed]
Lisa: Mom, did you like horses when you were my age, 'cause I--
Marge: I don't know. Look, tonight is very important. Mommy has to alter her suit so it looks like a totally new suit.
Lisa: [talking fast] Mom, do you want to know the fifteen reasons I like horses better than cars? One, a horse never has to--
Marge: I really need to concentrate on this, Lisa, would you mind just--
Lisa: You know how a horse goes like this? [jumps up and down on the bed] Mom, like this!
Marge: I've already altered this so many times, it's not impossible--
Lisa: Whinny, whinny! Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mo-m!
Marge: [yelling] LISA, PLEASE!! [pause; Lisa leaves the room]
Marge: Miss? Miss? Do you have a Chanel suit or any other high quality clothes?
Saleswoman: No, ma'am, but we do have a shipment of slightly burned Sears’ active wear coming in this afternoon.
Marge: Oh, I give up.
Cletus: What time and how burnt?
Krusty: I knew my kind wasn't welcome here.
Marge: Why do you have to question everything I do?
Lisa: You look nice is all.
Marge: Homer, what are you doing?
Homer: I'm driving up to the main building. They got valet parking.
Marge: We can't drive this up there. They'll see the dent. They'll see the coat hanger antenna. Stop the car, we're walking.
Homer: But Marge, valets! Maybe for once, someone will call me "sir" without adding, "You're making a scene."
Homer: I'm going to regale everyone with my anecdote. You know, the one I tried to say on the radio? Heh, heh. Who's going to "bleep" me this time?
Bart: I'm going to pose as an Italian count and get some old lady to leave me all her money.
Lisa: I'm going to ask people if they know their servant's last names, or in the case of butlers, their first.
Marge: No, no, no! Not tonight! No vulgarity, no mischief, no politics. Just be good!
Bart: I'm sorry, mom. I'll behave.
Lisa: I won't say anything controversial.
Homer: I just won't say anything, okay, honey?
Maggie: [sucks her pacifier]
[Marge glares at her; silence]
Homer: You kids should thank your mother. Now that she's a better person, we can see how awful we really are.
Marge: Homey, I like your in-your-face humanity. I like the way Lisa speaks her mind. I like Bart's-- [Bart smiles, but it fades] I like Bart. [Bart smiles again]
Krusty Burger Boy: [mopping] Hey, did you guys just come from the prom?
Bart: Sort of.
Marge: But, you know, we realized we're more comfortable in a place like this.
Krusty Burger Boy: [nods] Man, you're crazy. This place is a dump!
