jamesliu23/simpsons · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 7 697
The hell with this.
Slide inspector comin' through! Please move to the right. Grab that handrail, young man. Outta my way, I'm here for your safety.
God bless that man!
Bitchin'.
Oh no! Urg... Arrrgh. C'mon you stupid tube!!!
Looks like there's a jam in delta sector.
Well, it's too big to be human. Send down a few kids, that should dislodge it.
OH NOOOOOO!!!!
I... can't... breathe! Too... many... children...!
... Eyewitnesses estimated the man's weight at somewhere between four and five hundred pounds...
And now on the lighter side of the news, and I use the term loosely --
No! The slide is perfectly safe. This was an isolated incident.
I understand that, Krusty. Isn't that exactly what you said right before the recall of tainted Krusty Brand Mayonnaise?
Now Kent, you know that question is out of bounds. This interview is over.
All right family, I want the truth. Don't pull any punches. Am I just a little bit overweight?
Well, am I?
Forgive us, Dad, but it takes time to properly sugarcoat a response.
Four Hundred and thirty-seven. Fifty-five. Oh my God, three hundred and... Hey, a hundred and fifty. Oh God, it's two hundred and sixty pounds! I'm a big fat pig.
Now Homer, you do have big bones.
Marge, no one gains thirty pounds of bone.
But I'm going on a diet. From this day forward I pledge there will be no pork chop too succulent, no donut too tasty, no pizza too laden with delicious toppings, to prevent me from reaching my scientifically determined ideal weight! As God is my witness, I'll always be hungry again!
Oh, shut up.
This old attic's kinda spooky, isn't it boy. I said, isn't it, boy?
Don't you ever do that to me again.
Get away from that thing and help me find my athletic equipment.
Hey, Homer, I found your weights.
Ooh, the Glutimus Maximizer.
Hey, who's the moptop with the big schnozz?
Don't you know anything, boy? That's Ringo Starr.
Your mother must have painted this. I guess she thought he was cute... Hey, what the...
Oh, Homer, don't be jealous. I was a schoolgirl, the Beatles were very popular and I had a crush on them.
Likely story.
Oh, why did I have to start my diet on pork chop night?
Now, Homer. We've got steamed vegetables and rice cakes for you.
Well, wait a minute. Hey, I've been setting my drinks on these things.
Now, they're only thirty-five calories apiece.
Hello? Hello? Hello taste... where are you?
You can put a little something on top for flavor.
Hey, hey, now you're talkin'!
Mom, these are really good. While I know first-hand how fragile young talent is, I'd love to hear the particulars of how your gift was squashed.
Well...
No, not another portrait of that bongo-beating Liverpudlian!
But Mr. Schindler...
Someone might have used this canvas to create a masterpiece. Instead, you've soiled it forever.
Now, this is art!
Thank you, Mr. Schindler.
Oh Mom, I can't believe you gave up painting because of one small-minded art teacher.
I was so upset I decided to send the portrait to the only man on earth whose opinion I could truly trust.
And what was Ringo's response?
I never got any. And I never painted again.
Maybe you could take a class at Springfield Community College.
I think it's a very nice idea. Don't you, Homer?
Do I have to do anything?
Great, fine, go nuts!
Mmm, only thirty-five calories.
Hello, Mrs. Homer!
Apu! What are you doing here?
I've just enrolled in a screenwriting class. I yearn to tell the story of an idealistic young Hindu pushed too far by convenience store bandits. I call it, "Hands Off My Jerky, Turkey!"
Clever title.
Oh, thank you. Actually, my brother Sanjay thought of it.
Next up!
My mother would like to enroll in "Painting From Life, 2-B".
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, not so fast, there, pint size. I'm afraid no one can enroll until Professor Lombardo personally inspects and approves their portfolio.
Oh, Lisa, this was a bad idea.
Very good... Fabulous... Ooh, even better... You have real talent.
Do you really think so? My high school art teacher hated them.
What? The man was a fool! But, still, one must admire the force of his conviction.
Then I'm in the class?
Oh my dear, there couldn't be a class without you. Now if you'll excuse me, nature calls!
Marvelous!
The Heavy Hands don't work unless you move, Homer.
I can't move, boy.
Oh really.
Now, using the "Lombardo Method", you learn to see everyday objects as a simple grouping of geometrical shapes.
Smithers, find me an artist.
Here we see how two concentric circles, various trapezoids, ellipses and, yes, even a rhombus, can create an adorable little bunny rabbit!
It's just that easy!
Lincoln Lincoln I been thinkin' what the hell have you been drinkin'? / Is it water is it wine? / Oh my God it's turpentine! / Faster! Faster!
Bravo. Walk away from it! Now it belongs to the ages. You, not another stroke. Oh well, maybe one more. That's it! Perfect!
Mmmm. Indeed. Marge, you find the inner beauty of your subject and bring it out for all to see.
Well, thank you, Professor Lombardo.
Well, you're welcome, my dear! Marge, walk with me.
Marge, they've asked me to submit the best painting from my class to the Springfield Art Exhibition next week. I've decided to choose your "Bald Adonis"?
Really? You're so supportive. I wish every teacher was like you.
Marge, please. I don't take praise very well.
Oh, another triumph!
I can't believe it.
Yay, Mom!
Woo-ooo! I'm a work of art! "Last Supper", eat your heart out!
Garbage! What matchbook art school did you flunk out of, you ham-fisted, nearsighted house painter? Smithers, throw this on the dung heap.
I'm sorry, but this isn't working out. I quit.
Well, Smithers, I guess that's what you call your "artistic temperament".
Sir, I must remind you that the dedication of the Burns Wing of the museum is only six days away.
Damnation, Smithers! This idea of yours to immortalize me in a portrait was as half-baked as your idea about me having children!
Okay, shoot.
Sir, I'm afraid you've systematically alienated Springfield's entire art community. The only one left is this Mrs. Homer Simpson.
Well, she won first prize in the Springfield Art Fair, and as the wife of an employee, she'll be easily intimidated.
Excellent. Once again the wheel has turned and Dame Fortune has hugged Montgomery Burns to her sweet perfumed bosom. Somebody up there likes me, Smithers.
Somebody down here likes you, too, sir.
Shut up.

The hell with this.

Slide inspector comin' through! Please move to the right. Grab that handrail, young man. Outta my way, I'm here for your safety.

God bless that man!

Bitchin'.

Oh no! Urg... Arrrgh. C'mon you stupid tube!!!

Looks like there's a jam in delta sector.

Well, it's too big to be human. Send down a few kids, that should dislodge it.

OH NOOOOOO!!!!

I... can't... breathe! Too... many... children...!

... Eyewitnesses estimated the man's weight at somewhere between four and five hundred pounds...

And now on the lighter side of the news, and I use the term loosely --

No! The slide is perfectly safe. This was an isolated incident.

I understand that, Krusty. Isn't that exactly what you said right before the recall of tainted Krusty Brand Mayonnaise?

Now Kent, you know that question is out of bounds. This interview is over.

All right family, I want the truth. Don't pull any punches. Am I just a little bit overweight?

Well, am I?

Forgive us, Dad, but it takes time to properly sugarcoat a response.

Four Hundred and thirty-seven. Fifty-five. Oh my God, three hundred and... Hey, a hundred and fifty. Oh God, it's two hundred and sixty pounds! I'm a big fat pig.

Now Homer, you do have big bones.

Marge, no one gains thirty pounds of bone.

But I'm going on a diet. From this day forward I pledge there will be no pork chop too succulent, no donut too tasty, no pizza too laden with delicious toppings, to prevent me from reaching my scientifically determined ideal weight! As God is my witness, I'll always be hungry again!

Oh, shut up.

This old attic's kinda spooky, isn't it boy. I said, isn't it, boy?

Don't you ever do that to me again.

Get away from that thing and help me find my athletic equipment.

Hey, Homer, I found your weights.

Ooh, the Glutimus Maximizer.

Hey, who's the moptop with the big schnozz?

Don't you know anything, boy? That's Ringo Starr.

Your mother must have painted this. I guess she thought he was cute... Hey, what the...

Oh, Homer, don't be jealous. I was a schoolgirl, the Beatles were very popular and I had a crush on them.

Likely story.

Oh, why did I have to start my diet on pork chop night?

Now, Homer. We've got steamed vegetables and rice cakes for you.

Well, wait a minute. Hey, I've been setting my drinks on these things.

Now, they're only thirty-five calories apiece.

Hello? Hello? Hello taste... where are you?

You can put a little something on top for flavor.

Hey, hey, now you're talkin'!

Mom, these are really good. While I know first-hand how fragile young talent is, I'd love to hear the particulars of how your gift was squashed.

Well...

No, not another portrait of that bongo-beating Liverpudlian!

But Mr. Schindler...

Someone might have used this canvas to create a masterpiece. Instead, you've soiled it forever.

Now, this is art!

Thank you, Mr. Schindler.

Oh Mom, I can't believe you gave up painting because of one small-minded art teacher.

I was so upset I decided to send the portrait to the only man on earth whose opinion I could truly trust.

And what was Ringo's response?

I never got any. And I never painted again.

Maybe you could take a class at Springfield Community College.

I think it's a very nice idea. Don't you, Homer?

Do I have to do anything?

Great, fine, go nuts!

Mmm, only thirty-five calories.

Hello, Mrs. Homer!

Apu! What are you doing here?

I've just enrolled in a screenwriting class. I yearn to tell the story of an idealistic young Hindu pushed too far by convenience store bandits. I call it, "Hands Off My Jerky, Turkey!"

Clever title.

Oh, thank you. Actually, my brother Sanjay thought of it.

Next up!

My mother would like to enroll in "Painting From Life, 2-B".

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, not so fast, there, pint size. I'm afraid no one can enroll until Professor Lombardo personally inspects and approves their portfolio.

Oh, Lisa, this was a bad idea.

Very good... Fabulous... Ooh, even better... You have real talent.

Do you really think so? My high school art teacher hated them.

What? The man was a fool! But, still, one must admire the force of his conviction.

Then I'm in the class?

Oh my dear, there couldn't be a class without you. Now if you'll excuse me, nature calls!

Marvelous!

The Heavy Hands don't work unless you move, Homer.

I can't move, boy.

Oh really.

Now, using the "Lombardo Method", you learn to see everyday objects as a simple grouping of geometrical shapes.

Smithers, find me an artist.

Here we see how two concentric circles, various trapezoids, ellipses and, yes, even a rhombus, can create an adorable little bunny rabbit!

It's just that easy!

Lincoln Lincoln I been thinkin' what the hell have you been drinkin'? / Is it water is it wine? / Oh my God it's turpentine! / Faster! Faster!

Bravo. Walk away from it! Now it belongs to the ages. You, not another stroke. Oh well, maybe one more. That's it! Perfect!

Mmmm. Indeed. Marge, you find the inner beauty of your subject and bring it out for all to see.

Well, thank you, Professor Lombardo.

Well, you're welcome, my dear! Marge, walk with me.

Marge, they've asked me to submit the best painting from my class to the Springfield Art Exhibition next week. I've decided to choose your "Bald Adonis"?

Really? You're so supportive. I wish every teacher was like you.

Marge, please. I don't take praise very well.

Oh, another triumph!

I can't believe it.

Yay, Mom!

Woo-ooo! I'm a work of art! "Last Supper", eat your heart out!

Garbage! What matchbook art school did you flunk out of, you ham-fisted, nearsighted house painter? Smithers, throw this on the dung heap.

I'm sorry, but this isn't working out. I quit.

Well, Smithers, I guess that's what you call your "artistic temperament".

Sir, I must remind you that the dedication of the Burns Wing of the museum is only six days away.

Damnation, Smithers! This idea of yours to immortalize me in a portrait was as half-baked as your idea about me having children!

Okay, shoot.

Sir, I'm afraid you've systematically alienated Springfield's entire art community. The only one left is this Mrs. Homer Simpson.

Well, she won first prize in the Springfield Art Fair, and as the wife of an employee, she'll be easily intimidated.

Excellent. Once again the wheel has turned and Dame Fortune has hugged Montgomery Burns to her sweet perfumed bosom. Somebody up there likes me, Smithers.

Somebody down here likes you, too, sir.

Shut up.