♪ Two... two, three... ♪
♪ ♪
ANNOUNCER: It's the Futurama Holiday Spectacular,
brought to you by...
Ah, the Xmas season.
Who wants a delicious unshelled nut?
Ooh, I'll have one!
(loud crack)
Mmm! Mmm!
It's nut so good!
(groans quietly)
What's wrong, Fry?
Are you regretting another wasted year?
I don't know. Something about Xmas
just doesn't feel like Christmas.
(alarm blaring)
Santa's coming!
Initiate defenses!
(rattling, clanking, thudding)
God rest ye merry gentlemen...
in peace.
Can someone please explain
how you celebrate this crazy holiday?
Preferably in song?
(others gasp)
♪ It's the violent-est season of the year ♪
♪ And Krinklebot has come dispensing mugs ♪
♪ Of Xmas fear ♪
♪ Sugarplummy visions ♪
♪ Will be dancing in your head ♪
♪ When I cane you from the comfort ♪
♪ Of my sled ♪ Ow!
♪ On Xmas Eve, we don our gay apparel ♪
♪ Kevlar vests ♪
♪ Asbestos stockings and a barrel ♪
♪ And if grandma's Xmas fruitcake ♪
♪ Finally reaches critical mass ♪
♪ It can be re-gifted ♪
♪ Straight to Santa's ass ♪
♪ But the ornamental armaments ♪
♪ Are merely superficial ♪
â™ª The tinsel and the trappings are just icing on the missile â™ª
â™ª The one thing that you need â™ª
♪ To make your Xmas day splendiferous ♪
♪ Is a pine tree ♪
♪ A pine tree that's coniferous ♪
♪ We have to have a pine tree that's coniferous! ♪
You're welcome!
You know, Santa may have killed Scruffy,
but he makes a good point.
What we need is an old-fashioned pine tree!
Cram it, Virginia!
Pine trees have been extinct for over 800 years.
LEELA: Professor,
maybe there's some way
to bring the pine trees back to life.
Like we did with the barking snakes.
(barking)
Pine trees aren't barking snakes!
They won't just turn up in a salad at Olive Garden.
But there is one hope,
and, as usual, it's Norwegian.
(whirring)
PASSENGERS: Ooh! Whoa! Oh! Whoa...!
Behold!
The Svalbard Global Seed Vault!
Since 2008, the vault has preserved seeds
of every known plant species,
in case of extinction.
And I brought a few seeds of my own.
(snakes barking)
Halt! Wh-What's your business
pokey-pokin' about de seed vault, uh,
guardian of mankind's precious botanical heritage dere?
We just want to come in and rummage about a bit.
Oh. So... okay.
Yo, Abba, what's that next-door?
(wind rushing)
GUARD: Oh, dat's de germ warfare repository.
LEELA: It's so close.
Is there any chance of cross-contamination?
No.
Now, your pine trees were all chopped down
to make emergency toilet paper
during the 50-Year Squirts.
Lucky de seeds have been preserved here
in de vault dere.
What's that splork on them?
It's not germs, is it?
No.
Now, that's a tree worth chopping down.
Indeed!
It's a loverly tree!
'Twill truly be my finest Xmas ev...
Oh! (tires screech)
Arooo!
That's what my poll numbers need--
happy voters enjoying some holiday cheer.
As your vice president, I order you to steal that tree.
(cheering)
NIXON: My fellow Earthicans,
welcome to the annual White House Xmas tree lighting,
brought to you by...
Gunderson's Nuts!
(electricity crackles)
(cheering)
(cracking, creaking, rumbling)
(people gasping)
Oh, no!
Could the seed have been contaminated
by a virus from the germ vault?
Uh, yeah, I suppose.
Wait! This could be a good thing.
That weaponized virus
made the sickly little tree grow big and strong!
(rumbling continues, pine cones whizzing)
(people gasping, yelling)
(yells, whimpers)
(rumbling stops)
(wood crackling)
Wait-- this could be a good thing.
Reforestation has begun.
(rumbling)
Aw, geez with this, hah?
(rumbling continues)
(gasping, panicked shouts)
♪ ♪
(clattering, glass shattering)
Arguably, this could be a good thing.
The planet has returned to its primeval state!
Earth is just the way it was before the white man came!
(device beeping)
Good news! All these pine trees
are fighting global warming by producing oxygen!
Happy now, Gore?
Yeah. But I'd be happier if I had a set of lungs.
(device beeping) Hey, wait a second!
Oxygen levels are rising too rapidly!
Ten percent...
20 percent...
60 percent! As long as it doesn't hit 70.
80 percent!
You know, I don't recall having done anything for a while,
but I still feel I deserve a smoke.
Hey, cool.
The air's on fire.
(deep whoosh)
(explosions)
Ho, ho, ho!
Everyone's dead!
Stay tuned for another tale of holiday hilarity.
Now back to the Gunderson's Nuts Holiday Spectacular Featuring Futurama
Okay, crew, Xmas break is over.
It's time to destroy
these gifts we forgot to deliver.
Whoa, whoa, whoa!
How come we get off for every dumb human holiday
but not for robot holidays?!
Oh, Lord, not Robanukah.
I'm talking about Robanukah!
The holiest six and a half weeks in the robot calendar.
Pfft! That's just a fake holiday you make up every year
to get out of work.
Yeah! If it's real, how come there's no song
that explains how to celebrate it?
Because there is!
Hit it! Hit what?
I placed instruments under your seats.
Play 'em or I'll break 'em over your heads!
(lively intro plays)
♪ Robanukah may sound as if it's Jewish ♪
♪ But its ancient-sounding customs ♪
♪ Are exceptionally new-ish ♪
♪ So take a hearty swallow from your robo-kiddush cup ♪
♪ Which will give me time to quickly make them up ♪
(belches)
♪ Do you spin a dreidel ♪
♪ Made from clay? ♪
♪ Mine is called a "droidl," and it's rigged to make you pay ♪
♪ Do you eat these yummy ♪ tin-wrapped chocolate coins? ♪
♪ Better! We got fembots with illegal five-speed groins! ♪
Shalom,
Ruth and Esther!
Why with the music so loud?
Would it kill them to turn up the heat a little in here?
♪ But by far the most important thing is oil ♪
♪ To keep the lamplight burning or to help the latkes broil? ♪
♪ No, we pour the holy lubricant out from the sacred vessel ♪
♪ Into this blessed pit so they can wrestle ♪
♪ The extra made-up touch that makes Robanukah so special ♪
♪ Is the oil in which the nasty fembots wrestle! ♪
We shall now begin the traditional oil wrestling.
Will the referee bring out the ceremonial cruse of petroleum oil?
(chittering)
Thank you, Abraham.
Not in the hair, please.
I just had it did.
(oilcan splutters)
(hollow knocking) Aw, no!
These broads are supposed to wrestle for six and half weeks,
but there's only enough petroleum oil
for four and a half weeks!
(dramatic sting)
We're still getting paid, right?
I told you, it's an audition!
Bender, four and a half weeks of oil wrestling
sounds like plenty.
This isn't a lousy reformed Robanukah!
We need more petroleum oil!
(ship whooshing)
(quiet, metallic creak)
I got me some whale oil, some squirrel oil...
Not kosher!
It has to be petroleum oil!
Do you not give a damn
about the hallowed traditions of Robanukah?!
I reckon I do not.
Anyways, Earth done run out of petroleum oil.
(all gasp)
I tried to warn you.
One unit of free, limitless solar power, please?
(deep whirring)
(beeping)
That'll be...
I don't know, ten bucks?
Um, can you make change for a Nobel Prize?
Aw, man, can't we just make more petroleum oil?
I'm afraid not, son.
Petroleum only forms when organic matter
is subjected to intense pressure
for hundreds of millions of years.
(spluttering)
I can't wait that long!
I've got A.D.D.!
This is so unfair!
I don't wrestle dry, Bender.
I went to Vassar.
Professor, I want you to look these poor floozies in the eye
and tell them they're oil-wrestling days are over.
(sighs) Oh... I suppose there could be a minute quantity
of petroleum left, but it would be insanely deep
within the Earth, at pressures so dangerously high that--
(horn honks twice)
Let's go already!
(clanking, whirring)
(engine whooshing)
(rumbling)
Setting Bachman turners to overdrive.
We're getting pretty deep.
(gasps) Look-- more coffins.
(crunching)
(clattering)
AMY: Oh, no! We tunneled into a tunnel.
What's that loud boring sound you'll hear when I stop talking?
(Professor gasps)
It's an albino humping worm!
Why do they call it that?
Because it doesn't have any pigment.
What's our depth, Captain?
40 kilometers... 50...
There must be petroleum oil down here somewhere.
Go deeper, deeper!
No, Bender.
The ship can't withstand this much pressure.
Sometimes it falls apart just sitting in the hangar.
Professor, I've never asked for anything before.
But seeing those fembots glistening with oil
means more to me than life itself.
Oh...
Call me an old fool,
but I believe the Lord is speaking through you.
Brace yourselves, everyone!
100 kilometers!
Two hundred!
I hate to complain about the heat,
but the air conditioner's on fire.
My ice cream manwich!
What the hell are we doing?
We're all gonna die
so this junkyard golem can celebrate Robanukah!
You vile racist.
Haven't my people suffered enough?
Now keep drilling for that petroleum oil,
you selfish cowards!
Although, then again,
I guess any kind of oil would be just as...
(metal crunching, glass shattering)
Not my fault.
♪ I am so great ♪
♪ Bender is great ♪
♪ Bender, Bender, Bender, Ben-- ♪
Man, where did the time go?
Hey, you guys wanna--
Oh, right.
(gasps)
They turned into petroleum oil.
I thought they were selfish,
yet in the end, it turns out it was I
who thought they were selfish.
(whirring)
Hey, ladies.
I found some-- What the...
There was only enough petroleum
for four and a half weeks of oil wrestling,
but it lasted 500 million years!
It's a miracle!
BENDER: Happy Robanukah, everyone.
Coming up next, more thoughtful interfaith hilarity.
(doorbell rings)
(all greeting) What's up?
LaBarbara, Hermes, happy Kwanzaa!
We brought a chocolate cake,
but now I'm worried that might be offensive in some way.
Just sit down.
(doorbell rings)
Happy Kwanzaa, brothermen and sistermen!
Well, look at the cat the cat dragged in!
Kwanzaa tradition encourages educational gifts.
So I brought Dwight my book on Mathketball.
DWIGHT: Whoa!
Let me see that.
I'll sign it for you later.
Man, it's a cold one out there.
Barbados Slim?
Come in, Barbados.
Look at yourself,
all throbbing and shirtless for the holiday.
I hope you're ready to celebrate.
All night long, woman.
(clinking)
I'm glad you all could
be here with my family.
Kwanzaa traditions are quite ancient,
dating back over one thousand years.
Whoa.
If only someone could tell us more
about these traditions.
Oh, yeah!
Hey, Kool-Aid's here.
No, child, that's not a made-up character,
It's Kwanzaabot!
And I'm-a tell y'all how we celebrate Kwanzaa.
Zoidberg, lay down a beat.
How 'bout I just lay down?
(playing upbeat intro)
♪ There's seven basic principles that go to make up Kwanzaa ♪
♪ So sit your asses down ♪
♪ And have some knowledge dropped upons ya ♪
♪ Kujichagulia ♪
♪ And Umoja ♪
♪ And the rest ♪
ALL: Now we get it.
♪ Sit back down, there's gonna be a test ♪
♪ My favorite's Ujamaa ♪
Cooperative economics.
♪ Yo, Boondocks, I'm talkin' here ♪
♪ Put away the comics ♪
(trilling)
♪ Ku'umba is another one ♪
♪ It stands for creativity ♪
♪ Like the ever-changing nature ♪
♪ Of my sexual proclivities ♪
♪ I think there's one called Nia ♪
♪ But I don't speak Swahili ♪
♪ Something about a pine tree and an oil-wrestling dealie? ♪
That's from Xmas and Robanukah you plagiarizing lout.
♪ Yeah, I'm kinda losing interest here ♪
♪ I best be rollin' out ♪
♪ But before I go, the most important thing ♪
What's that, black Santa?
♪ You need seven Kwanzaa candles ♪
♪ That you light up every night ♪
♪ But they best be made of beeswax ♪
♪ Or y'all might as well be white ♪
ALL: They must be made of beeswax,
or we might as well be white.
Well, we got no beeswax candles,
but these scented regular wax candles will do just fine.
Girl, those stank sticks are for single women who take baths!
If your Kwanzaa candles ain't 100% beeswax,
you bring shame on your people.
Well, now that won't do.
Husband, show a little ku'umba
and fetch some beeswax before Kwanzaa ends.
Sweet candelabra of La Habra, LaBarbara!
Isn't this the last night of Kwanzaa?
Who the hell knows?
(crickets chirping)
Finally, a bee farm that's open late on Kwanzaa!
Madam, I need beeswax.
You sure you don't need a little honey, handsome?
Maybe a taste of sweet nectar straight from the hive?
(all gagging)
I just need some beeswax to make Kwanzaa candles.
Well, that's too darn bad.
There ain't no beeswax in the whole world!
Oh, no! This could be the year without a Kwanzaa,
like every year before 1966.
The bees are acting all crazy,
like they've been drinking Tang and cough syrup,
or, as I call it, my Friday night.
(laughing hoarsely)
(coughing)
My God.
It's colony collapse syndrome!
The bees are swarming with parasites!
They're all dying.
Yeah, but what a way to go.
Die young, leave a pretty corpse,
that's what I say.
You should say something else.
Wait-- I know where we can get beeswax.
From those giant space bees who nearly killed us,
and we swore we'd never go back there!
Let's go back there!
(engine whooshing)
To communicate with the bees,
we'll need to use these transbumbleators.
Bender, say something in bee talk.
(buzzing)
I'm sorry, Bender.
What do you want me to put on the glass?
(buzzing)
Okay. If we survive.
Something's wrong.
It's way too quiet.
Like the deadly Prius.
(buzzing approaches)
PROFESSOR: Ah, here they come.
They're in attack formation!
They're going to kill us!
That was weird.
It's like the Jagermeister Air Show all over again.
According to Google Hive,
we're at the exact center of the honeycomb.
Ooh, and there's a Jamba Juice point two miles that way!
Does that thing tell you where the Queen Bee is?
The big, fat, ugly, compound-eyed, hairy-thorax--
(grunts)
Don't be applying your Euro-centric standards
of beauty to me, fool.
(gasps) What's with the kamikaz-bees?
Man, my hive's been going buck wild
since these blood ganking butt crabs moved in.
(all groan and gag)
Been there. Done that.
These bees are infected,
just like the ones on Earth.
Brothasuckin' parasites
gone and disrupted our hivemind.
Now instead of working in harmony,
my bees just talk smack to each other.
Are y'all black with yellow stripes,
or ya yellow with black stripes?
Yellow with black stripes, man.
Why don't you just move along?
Let me ask you something. You sting my wife?
What kinda buzzin' question is that?
Where do you get the wings big enough to ask me that?
(buzzing)
Okay, gang.
We have plenty of beeswax.
Let's get back to the ship.
No. We are not going anywhere.
I can't abide all this bee-on-bee conflict.
It's time to African-Americanize these honeybees!
(buzzing)
Listen up, bees!
It's Kwanzaa, a time of Umoja.
It means unity.
You have to learn to work together again!
The crazy tablecloth man is right.
It's time to set aside our differences.
Black stripe, yellow stripe...
at the end of the day,
we're just a couple dern talkin' space bees.
Hey, forget about it.
me here and give me a sting.
Look! The spirit of Kwanzaa is killing the parasites.
(all cheering)
Yech! But yay!
Thank you, my human brother.
Your message of unity has touched our souls.
We are once again of a single hivemind.
(all muttering anxiously)
(crashing)
KWANZAABOT: Oh, yeah.
Hooray! Kwanzaabot's here to save--
(blow thuds) Oh, they killed him.
(buzzing)
Joyous Kwanzaa, everybody.
(applause)
(chuckling) Don't worry.
The Futurama crew will be back next year
with all new episodes
featuring Bender, Leela,
and me, Al Gore, as Captain Lance Starman.
And from all of us here
at Gunderson's Nuts, happy holidays!
Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org