Programma Televisivo: The Simpsons - 36x3
Can you just...?
Never mind.
What's up with Blue Tip and Starfish?
Those two have been fighting like Don Draper and Pete Campbell after they lost the Lucky Strike account.
What?
Krusty's in reruns.
Lisa and I weren't fighting.
It was just a series of calm, constructive conversations.
What?
That's not how I remember it.
Lisa was like, "I hate this town.
Everyone's stupid."
And you were like... "
Lisa's driving me crazy. "
We should send her to Capital City with my sisters for the weekend."
That may not be word-for-word.
Train for Capital City leaving in five minutes!
Please wrap up all family arguments and bid a quiet, poignant goodbye.
All aboard!
Bye, Lisa, and have a great time in the city with your aunties.
I got you a little snack for the train.
Mom, you know Apple Zoom is full of chemicals.
And it's owned by...
Thanks, Mom.
I'm glad I don't have a daughter.
Wow.
Capital City.
God, there's just so much I want to see and do here.
The Museum of Modern Museums.
The Prussian Coffee Room.
The Unidentified State Building.
And tomorrow is the Highbrow Artists Parade.
But the thing I really want to see is the statue of the Fearless Girl facing down the gorilla that symbolizes fossil fuels and wasteful fast food packaging.
What do you know?
You can let us out at the next block.
This is the touristy part of the city.
Where are we going?
To the finest restaurant in town.
The Laramie Cigarette Smokehouse Grill.
Bring us the Tuna Tar-Tar.
With extra tar.
Cigs in a Blanket.
Philly Wheeze Steak.
Vape Suzette.
And for dessert, the Phlegm Brûlée.
Can we go now?
We've wasted the whole day here.
Cool your jets, toots.
Aunties need their post-meal smoke.
Sorry, ladies, no smoking.
Take it outside.
Hi-yah!
Patricia Bouvier?
Julian.
Mwah.
I saw on Facebook that you were coming to town.
Why didn't you call me, you two gorgeous minxes?
Lisa, this is my friend Julian.
We met last year at the Capital City pride parade.
I still think our float should have won first prize.
Stunning.
Is that a book of poetry by Sylvia Plath?
Yes, it is.
Poor, dear Sylvia.
The world's loss was that oven's gain.
I'm a poet myself, also a novelist, essayist, playwright, and author of the occasional scalding Airbnb review.
Those are all things I'd like to be when I grow up and leave Springfield.
My God, that's your hometown?
Hi, I'm Katya.
I actually rent there to take photographs for my prize-winning show Freaks of the 'Field.
Look at these and react to them.
I can't watch.
I won a lot of prizes for these.
Isn't that weird?
No, I think they're great.
That's what everyone says.
It's so crazy.
This is my husband Lars.
He's a brilliant painter.
Wow.
Somehow I sense you're craving love and connection in an uncaring world.
And also an extra-large cookie.
Lisa, for a little girl in a lampshade dress, you seem very sophisticated.
Really?
Well, I try.
I mean, I don't try.
It's effortless.
My God, I just had the kind of amazing idea that everyone thinks is stupid but then I'm totally right.
You should come to our party tonight.
It's in our loft, north of Hobart Street, south of Gordon Avenue, and below the Joseph Torrance Expressway.
NoHoSoGoBloJoTo?
That's the coolest, most artistic neighborhood in town.
Can we go?
No, kid.
We're gonna take you to something you're gonna love.
Thanks, Aunt Selma.
You know me so well.
Well, if you change your minds, we'll be around for a little longer, sneering at Midwestern tourists.
Barf.
Maybe we could go to their party after the musical.
Juice-ical.
A-Are you okay?
Yeah.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Just a little indigestion.
We'll be fine.
I knew there was something off about that menthol swordfish.
Me encanta Ciudad Capita...
Out of our way, kid.
We got to either sleep or die, and we don't care which one.
Yes.
By all means, take a picture with that off-brand Pikachu.
What a precious keepsake that will be.
Hi.
Hi.
Hi.
My aunts are feeling a little under the weather, so they said I should hang out with you.
They said a small child should spend the night exploring the bohemian demimonde with a bunch of effete gadabouts?
That's what they said.
So, Lisa, what do you think, Lisa?
I think I'm home.
This place is a dream.
Everyone's so cool, and the art is all nonrepresentational.
My God.
Lars, that is so brilliant.
I seriously wish I'd married someone else so I could cheat on my husband with you.
Now let's get everything to the gallery.
What, now?
Yup.
Our group show opens tomorrow at the Museum of Loft-Based Transgressive Progressivism, so we have to get all our work there tonight.
Okay, everyone, grab a canvas, sculpture or performance artist.
Ho!
Whoa!
Hey, can I get a little help, please, from The Inhuman Capotes?
Writers are liars who tell the truth for money.
But I'm asking if you're helping us move.
If you're gonna stab me in my back, do it to my face.
Don't mind him, he's the worst.
We used to be a throuple.
He was incredible.
I wish he was dead.
You need one of these.
Lisa, you're a dear and a doll, and you carried Kool-Aid Jesus without spilling a drop.
My God, it's so late.
I really should get back to Patty and Selma.
But, darling, the night is just beginning.
This is your moment.
And we have tickets to see an avant-garde play that starts at 1:00 a.m.
Well, I would hate to wake up my aunties.
God, I love art.
And I love this city.
Punks, poets, madmen, monologists.
Superintendent Chalmers?
Sweet vermouth in a snifter.
Lisa Simpson.
Hey, Gary.
Hurry up here with them Reuben sammies.
You and me got a long night of doinking ahead of us.
We're putting on a staff excursion, and...
Of course.
Continuing education is...
No need to explain.
Makes perfect sense.
A life-long learning endeavor.
That's interesting.
Lisa, we're running late.
Stop talking to that balding stallion.
I don't know about stallion, but...
Yes.
This is so moving.
That poor man has been transformed into a cockroach.
And there's his unfeeling father.
Leave him alone!
Who just interrupted my play?
How dare you desecrate the hallowed boards of this converted rooster-fighting arena?
Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Tracy Letts?
You wrote this?
And I play the enormous shoe that steps on the cockroach in act three.
It's a loafer with a backstory.
Not that they'll ever get to see it now!
I'm sorry I...
Interrupted?
Young lady, this play has run for over a year, and you're the very first person to interfere and save the cockroach, proving you're one of the most sensitive and artistically attuned people I've ever met.
Give her a round of applause.
My two Tony Awards command you!
This kid is incredible.
She gives me hope for the next generation of self-important know-it-alls.
Yes, she's truly a special young person, just brimming with precocity.
In fact, I was thinking she might be a good fit for the Horace Frick Academy.
HFA?
That's the school I would never dream of letting myself hope that I could aspire to imagine going there.
Well, Lisa, I'm on the board of trustees.
Go Fighting Tote Bags!
And I think I might just be able to guarantee you a place.
When would I start?
Next month.
And what does it cost?
$84,000 a year.
But how would I ever pay for that?
Not my problem!
Now, if you'll excuse me, I just thought of an awesome play, and I have to go scream it into my phone.
Curtain rises on Dave & Buster's.
Everyone is dead.
I would love to attend that school.
But my mom and dad don't have that kind of money.
That's so terrible.
Wait just a moment.
I know a wealthy benefactress who might be able to help you.
Lacey Van Aster.
She's a little eccentric.
But something tells me she'd adore you, just like we adore you.
I misread this.
To the forbidden zone.
The Upper East Side.
It's really late.
Are you sure she's up?
Yes, she's a well-known night owl.
And a bit of a speed freak.
Vroom, vroom.
Teddy Roosevelt, Franklin Roosevelt, Eleanor Roosevelt.
Every one of them I seduced.
And destroyed.
Lacey, darling, we always enjoy your delightful stories, but we'd like to discuss your scholarship fund for children from, how shall we say, tragic cultural wastelands.
Yes, my lucrative bursary.
But first there is an extensive interview process.
All right, then, first of all, how are you, dear?
I'm okay.
The scholarship is yours.
Huzzah!
Yay!
Hip-hip-hoorah!
Good night, Lisa.
I've only known you for a day, but I can tell that you're an artist at heart.
Thank you, Katya.
I can't believe I'll be going to school in Capital City.
And then from there I'll become a critically acclaimed writer, an artist, and member of the cognoscenti.
Cognoscenti.
Cognoscenti, cognoscenti, cognoscenti!
It's all in front of me.
Someday I'll be in that photograph.
Wait a second.
Why are they posing with Martin Prince?!
Therein lies a tale, Lisa.
Every year self-impressed little bookworms like you and Martin Prince come to the big city, where we convince them that they could one day be one of us just by attending Horace Frick Academy.
But there's just one problem, my little swannabe.
Nobody you've met tonight has any connection to that school.
What?
Not even Tracy Letts?
Especially Tracy Letts.
Behind these supporting actor good looks, I'm a world-class fraud.
You were naive enough to believe that you could get into that school.
And that Roosevelt-doinking crone Mrs.
Van Aster was naive enough to make out the tuition check to us.
And you fell for it hook, Letts and sinker.
You eight-year-old fool.
But why do you need to steal money?
I thought you all supported yourselves by making art.
It is to laugh.
This is awful.
I'm gonna report you to the Capital City Police.
Ha!
I'm sure they'll take the word of an infamous art thief.
There you are.
But I was helping to move that art.
I wasn't stealing it.
I know you're innocent.
But this damning footage has already gone out to the entire artistic community of Capital City.
And it's not a good look.
The only thing an artist hates more than an art thief is themselves.
No!
Yoink!
Our ill-gotten gains!
God, they got this show together so fast.
Please answer.
I knew just one thing.
We were not going to lose the ringtone wars.
And that's when I came up with this.
Whoa!
Whoa!
Check it out, it's almost 5:00 in the morning.
We've almost watched this entire 12-hour documentary about the history of ringtones.
Best 12 hours ever!
Superintendent Chalmers?
Now you're here?
No...
In the interest of, of fumfering, I, um...
Gary, doinking.
Look, Lisa, sometimes when grown-ups get bored, they start playing pickleball or they learn to make sourdough bread or they book two different romantic getaways with two different women who don't know about each other.
It's-it's a very common thing.
Mr.
Chalmers, would you please, please help me hide?
Just for a little while?
I'd love nothing more, but, um...
And I would love not to tell the school board about your extracurricular activities.
This has been the worst night of my life!
I came to Capital City because I wanted to get away from the dead-eyed ding-dongs in Springfield.
No offense.
And then these horrible people came in my room and told me...
Gary, you son of a bitch, I'll kill you!
Settle, settle.
Dora, can we just talk about this?
No, we can't!
Okay, then.
Ooh!
Ooh!
Superintendent Chalmers!
There's that pilfering little urchin.
Wait up, guys!
It's never been more past my bedtime.
I'm too tired to run anymore.
Desperate times call for high-fructose corn syrup.
She drank the juice.
A mother knows.
Hey, art jerks!
Your work is derivative, and you're all old!
It's the Fearless Girl statue.
Goldman Sachs?
Ew.
I hate this city!
These are balloons from the Highbrow Artists Parade.
That's today.
They are relentless.
Thank God for this balloon.
Aah!
Joan Didion?
How ironic, you're clinging to Joan Didion, but you're clearly John Gregory Donne.
I hate that I get that.
But you'll never get this.
She ripped up the check.
Well, then do something about it, you second-rate Cindy Sherman!
What the hell are you doing?
If there was a gun in the first act, I would shoot you right now.
I'm setting her free.
Goodbye, Lisa!
Never forget the essence of being an artist.
Having rich parents.
You can still resent them horribly, just take their money!
It is easy to see the beginnings of things and harder to see the ends.
I can remember now with a clarity that makes the nerves in the back of my neck constrict when the city began for me, but I cannot lay my finger upon the moment it ended.
Can never cut through the ambiguities and second starts and broken resolves to the exact place on the page where the heroine is no longer as optimistic as she once was.
How are you talking to me?
You haven't slept in 24 hours.
Makes sense.
Lisa.
Superintendent.
Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org Good morning, today we'll be reading from The Firecracker Who Didn't Want to Go Boom. "
'I like quiet things!
' said the firecracker.
'Why does everything in the world have to be so loud?'" "'Things like sirens and jackhammers and tugboat whistles and big brass drums!'" Shh!
Never mind.
What's up with Blue Tip and Starfish?
Those two have been fighting like Don Draper and Pete Campbell after they lost the Lucky Strike account.
What?
Krusty's in reruns.
Lisa and I weren't fighting.
It was just a series of calm, constructive conversations.
What?
That's not how I remember it.
Lisa was like, "I hate this town.
Everyone's stupid."
And you were like... "
Lisa's driving me crazy. "
We should send her to Capital City with my sisters for the weekend."
That may not be word-for-word.
Train for Capital City leaving in five minutes!
Please wrap up all family arguments and bid a quiet, poignant goodbye.
All aboard!
Bye, Lisa, and have a great time in the city with your aunties.
I got you a little snack for the train.
Mom, you know Apple Zoom is full of chemicals.
And it's owned by...
Thanks, Mom.
I'm glad I don't have a daughter.
Wow.
Capital City.
God, there's just so much I want to see and do here.
The Museum of Modern Museums.
The Prussian Coffee Room.
The Unidentified State Building.
And tomorrow is the Highbrow Artists Parade.
But the thing I really want to see is the statue of the Fearless Girl facing down the gorilla that symbolizes fossil fuels and wasteful fast food packaging.
What do you know?
You can let us out at the next block.
This is the touristy part of the city.
Where are we going?
To the finest restaurant in town.
The Laramie Cigarette Smokehouse Grill.
Bring us the Tuna Tar-Tar.
With extra tar.
Cigs in a Blanket.
Philly Wheeze Steak.
Vape Suzette.
And for dessert, the Phlegm Brûlée.
Can we go now?
We've wasted the whole day here.
Cool your jets, toots.
Aunties need their post-meal smoke.
Sorry, ladies, no smoking.
Take it outside.
Hi-yah!
Patricia Bouvier?
Julian.
Mwah.
I saw on Facebook that you were coming to town.
Why didn't you call me, you two gorgeous minxes?
Lisa, this is my friend Julian.
We met last year at the Capital City pride parade.
I still think our float should have won first prize.
Stunning.
Is that a book of poetry by Sylvia Plath?
Yes, it is.
Poor, dear Sylvia.
The world's loss was that oven's gain.
I'm a poet myself, also a novelist, essayist, playwright, and author of the occasional scalding Airbnb review.
Those are all things I'd like to be when I grow up and leave Springfield.
My God, that's your hometown?
Hi, I'm Katya.
I actually rent there to take photographs for my prize-winning show Freaks of the 'Field.
Look at these and react to them.
I can't watch.
I won a lot of prizes for these.
Isn't that weird?
No, I think they're great.
That's what everyone says.
It's so crazy.
This is my husband Lars.
He's a brilliant painter.
Wow.
Somehow I sense you're craving love and connection in an uncaring world.
And also an extra-large cookie.
Lisa, for a little girl in a lampshade dress, you seem very sophisticated.
Really?
Well, I try.
I mean, I don't try.
It's effortless.
My God, I just had the kind of amazing idea that everyone thinks is stupid but then I'm totally right.
You should come to our party tonight.
It's in our loft, north of Hobart Street, south of Gordon Avenue, and below the Joseph Torrance Expressway.
NoHoSoGoBloJoTo?
That's the coolest, most artistic neighborhood in town.
Can we go?
No, kid.
We're gonna take you to something you're gonna love.
Thanks, Aunt Selma.
You know me so well.
Well, if you change your minds, we'll be around for a little longer, sneering at Midwestern tourists.
Barf.
Maybe we could go to their party after the musical.
Juice-ical.
A-Are you okay?
Yeah.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Just a little indigestion.
We'll be fine.
I knew there was something off about that menthol swordfish.
Me encanta Ciudad Capita...
Out of our way, kid.
We got to either sleep or die, and we don't care which one.
Yes.
By all means, take a picture with that off-brand Pikachu.
What a precious keepsake that will be.
Hi.
Hi.
Hi.
My aunts are feeling a little under the weather, so they said I should hang out with you.
They said a small child should spend the night exploring the bohemian demimonde with a bunch of effete gadabouts?
That's what they said.
So, Lisa, what do you think, Lisa?
I think I'm home.
This place is a dream.
Everyone's so cool, and the art is all nonrepresentational.
My God.
Lars, that is so brilliant.
I seriously wish I'd married someone else so I could cheat on my husband with you.
Now let's get everything to the gallery.
What, now?
Yup.
Our group show opens tomorrow at the Museum of Loft-Based Transgressive Progressivism, so we have to get all our work there tonight.
Okay, everyone, grab a canvas, sculpture or performance artist.
Ho!
Whoa!
Hey, can I get a little help, please, from The Inhuman Capotes?
Writers are liars who tell the truth for money.
But I'm asking if you're helping us move.
If you're gonna stab me in my back, do it to my face.
Don't mind him, he's the worst.
We used to be a throuple.
He was incredible.
I wish he was dead.
You need one of these.
Lisa, you're a dear and a doll, and you carried Kool-Aid Jesus without spilling a drop.
My God, it's so late.
I really should get back to Patty and Selma.
But, darling, the night is just beginning.
This is your moment.
And we have tickets to see an avant-garde play that starts at 1:00 a.m.
Well, I would hate to wake up my aunties.
God, I love art.
And I love this city.
Punks, poets, madmen, monologists.
Superintendent Chalmers?
Sweet vermouth in a snifter.
Lisa Simpson.
Hey, Gary.
Hurry up here with them Reuben sammies.
You and me got a long night of doinking ahead of us.
We're putting on a staff excursion, and...
Of course.
Continuing education is...
No need to explain.
Makes perfect sense.
A life-long learning endeavor.
That's interesting.
Lisa, we're running late.
Stop talking to that balding stallion.
I don't know about stallion, but...
Yes.
This is so moving.
That poor man has been transformed into a cockroach.
And there's his unfeeling father.
Leave him alone!
Who just interrupted my play?
How dare you desecrate the hallowed boards of this converted rooster-fighting arena?
Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Tracy Letts?
You wrote this?
And I play the enormous shoe that steps on the cockroach in act three.
It's a loafer with a backstory.
Not that they'll ever get to see it now!
I'm sorry I...
Interrupted?
Young lady, this play has run for over a year, and you're the very first person to interfere and save the cockroach, proving you're one of the most sensitive and artistically attuned people I've ever met.
Give her a round of applause.
My two Tony Awards command you!
This kid is incredible.
She gives me hope for the next generation of self-important know-it-alls.
Yes, she's truly a special young person, just brimming with precocity.
In fact, I was thinking she might be a good fit for the Horace Frick Academy.
HFA?
That's the school I would never dream of letting myself hope that I could aspire to imagine going there.
Well, Lisa, I'm on the board of trustees.
Go Fighting Tote Bags!
And I think I might just be able to guarantee you a place.
When would I start?
Next month.
And what does it cost?
$84,000 a year.
But how would I ever pay for that?
Not my problem!
Now, if you'll excuse me, I just thought of an awesome play, and I have to go scream it into my phone.
Curtain rises on Dave & Buster's.
Everyone is dead.
I would love to attend that school.
But my mom and dad don't have that kind of money.
That's so terrible.
Wait just a moment.
I know a wealthy benefactress who might be able to help you.
Lacey Van Aster.
She's a little eccentric.
But something tells me she'd adore you, just like we adore you.
I misread this.
To the forbidden zone.
The Upper East Side.
It's really late.
Are you sure she's up?
Yes, she's a well-known night owl.
And a bit of a speed freak.
Vroom, vroom.
Teddy Roosevelt, Franklin Roosevelt, Eleanor Roosevelt.
Every one of them I seduced.
And destroyed.
Lacey, darling, we always enjoy your delightful stories, but we'd like to discuss your scholarship fund for children from, how shall we say, tragic cultural wastelands.
Yes, my lucrative bursary.
But first there is an extensive interview process.
All right, then, first of all, how are you, dear?
I'm okay.
The scholarship is yours.
Huzzah!
Yay!
Hip-hip-hoorah!
Good night, Lisa.
I've only known you for a day, but I can tell that you're an artist at heart.
Thank you, Katya.
I can't believe I'll be going to school in Capital City.
And then from there I'll become a critically acclaimed writer, an artist, and member of the cognoscenti.
Cognoscenti.
Cognoscenti, cognoscenti, cognoscenti!
It's all in front of me.
Someday I'll be in that photograph.
Wait a second.
Why are they posing with Martin Prince?!
Therein lies a tale, Lisa.
Every year self-impressed little bookworms like you and Martin Prince come to the big city, where we convince them that they could one day be one of us just by attending Horace Frick Academy.
But there's just one problem, my little swannabe.
Nobody you've met tonight has any connection to that school.
What?
Not even Tracy Letts?
Especially Tracy Letts.
Behind these supporting actor good looks, I'm a world-class fraud.
You were naive enough to believe that you could get into that school.
And that Roosevelt-doinking crone Mrs.
Van Aster was naive enough to make out the tuition check to us.
And you fell for it hook, Letts and sinker.
You eight-year-old fool.
But why do you need to steal money?
I thought you all supported yourselves by making art.
It is to laugh.
This is awful.
I'm gonna report you to the Capital City Police.
Ha!
I'm sure they'll take the word of an infamous art thief.
There you are.
But I was helping to move that art.
I wasn't stealing it.
I know you're innocent.
But this damning footage has already gone out to the entire artistic community of Capital City.
And it's not a good look.
The only thing an artist hates more than an art thief is themselves.
No!
Yoink!
Our ill-gotten gains!
God, they got this show together so fast.
Please answer.
I knew just one thing.
We were not going to lose the ringtone wars.
And that's when I came up with this.
Whoa!
Whoa!
Check it out, it's almost 5:00 in the morning.
We've almost watched this entire 12-hour documentary about the history of ringtones.
Best 12 hours ever!
Superintendent Chalmers?
Now you're here?
No...
In the interest of, of fumfering, I, um...
Gary, doinking.
Look, Lisa, sometimes when grown-ups get bored, they start playing pickleball or they learn to make sourdough bread or they book two different romantic getaways with two different women who don't know about each other.
It's-it's a very common thing.
Mr.
Chalmers, would you please, please help me hide?
Just for a little while?
I'd love nothing more, but, um...
And I would love not to tell the school board about your extracurricular activities.
This has been the worst night of my life!
I came to Capital City because I wanted to get away from the dead-eyed ding-dongs in Springfield.
No offense.
And then these horrible people came in my room and told me...
Gary, you son of a bitch, I'll kill you!
Settle, settle.
Dora, can we just talk about this?
No, we can't!
Okay, then.
Ooh!
Ooh!
Superintendent Chalmers!
There's that pilfering little urchin.
Wait up, guys!
It's never been more past my bedtime.
I'm too tired to run anymore.
Desperate times call for high-fructose corn syrup.
She drank the juice.
A mother knows.
Hey, art jerks!
Your work is derivative, and you're all old!
It's the Fearless Girl statue.
Goldman Sachs?
Ew.
I hate this city!
These are balloons from the Highbrow Artists Parade.
That's today.
They are relentless.
Thank God for this balloon.
Aah!
Joan Didion?
How ironic, you're clinging to Joan Didion, but you're clearly John Gregory Donne.
I hate that I get that.
But you'll never get this.
She ripped up the check.
Well, then do something about it, you second-rate Cindy Sherman!
What the hell are you doing?
If there was a gun in the first act, I would shoot you right now.
I'm setting her free.
Goodbye, Lisa!
Never forget the essence of being an artist.
Having rich parents.
You can still resent them horribly, just take their money!
It is easy to see the beginnings of things and harder to see the ends.
I can remember now with a clarity that makes the nerves in the back of my neck constrict when the city began for me, but I cannot lay my finger upon the moment it ended.
Can never cut through the ambiguities and second starts and broken resolves to the exact place on the page where the heroine is no longer as optimistic as she once was.
How are you talking to me?
You haven't slept in 24 hours.
Makes sense.
Lisa.
Superintendent.
Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org Good morning, today we'll be reading from The Firecracker Who Didn't Want to Go Boom. "
'I like quiet things!
' said the firecracker.
'Why does everything in the world have to be so loud?'" "'Things like sirens and jackhammers and tugboat whistles and big brass drums!'" Shh!