Simpson and Delilah
The capital of North Dakota is named after what German ruler?
-Hitler! -North Dakota?
Bismarck.
-Hitler? -I'm still beating you, boy.
The colors of the Italian flag are red, white and what?
-Blue. Red. -Green.
-Black, green.
-Green. -I was right!
We'll be right back with more Grade School Challenge.
I used to think hair loss was inevitable.
I found Dimoxinil, the breakthrough in hair regrowth.
Breakthrough? There's been a breakthrough?!
Dimoxinil can help me grow as much or as little hair as I want to.
Hey, today I'm gonna do it.
For your free brochure, send $5 to Dimoxinil.
Hair. Hair. Just like everybody else.
Some women find bald men quite virile.
Weren't you listening? This is a breakthrough.
Not one of these cheap-o sucker deals.
Allow me to present the Dimoxinil action set.
A six-month supply of the drug, gravity boots, scalp massager and a T-shirt.
-Great. How much? -$1000.
A thousand bucks? I can't afford that!
We do have a product which is more in your price range.
However, any hair growth while using it will be coincidental.
A thousand bucks. Of all the rip-off screw job, cheap joint....
Forget you, pal. Thanks for nothing.
So I say, "Forget you, pal. Thanks for nothing."
-I storm right out. -That's telling them.
Out of tartar sauce. They call this a portion?
Are you gonna use your sauce? Dry fish sticks! This sucks.
-Stop whining, chrome dome. -lf I had hair, you wouldn't say that.
Homer, don't be a sap.
Fill out some insurance forms. Charge Dimoxinil to the company.
It's $1000. Burns would can my butt.
Oh, $1000. So what?
So he has one less ivory back scratcher.
You pay into the insurance fund. What do you get?
Nothing. The newsletter.
Why get nothing while a guy who loses a finger hits the jackpot?
You got me.
I'd like to charge that Dimoxinil stuff to my health insurance.
I don't know who put you up to this...
...but no insurance plan covers something as frivolous as Dimoxinil!
Meet me in the alley in 15 minutes. Come alone.
Dear God, give a bald guy a break. Amen.
I have hair. I have hair!
I have hair!
Look, look!
Morning, Springfield. Morning, Mr. and Mrs. Winfield.
Get a haircut, you hippie!
-Good morning, Moe's Tavern! -It's the president.
-Good morning, everybody. -Good morning.
Good morning, everybody! Good morning, Springfield!
Dimoxinil!
Homer Simpson! You haven't been here in 20 years.
-You got rid of the sideburns. -Give me the usual.
He's much happier at work.
Just between us girls, he hasn't been this frisky in years.
-I don't want to think about it. -Daddy's home, sugar.
Come here, you.
Homie, my sisters are here.
Dinner with three beautiful women. I must be in heaven.
This is Homer?
-Patty, stop drooling. -Look who's talking.
You look different, Homer. Lose weight?
You got a tan.
I know what it is, a new tie.
Pathetic morons in my employ, stealing my precious money.
None of these cretins deserves a promotion.
It's in the union contract. One token promotion per year.
Wait. Who is that young go-getter?
Looks like Homer Simpson, only more dynamic and resourceful.
Simpson? An unspoiled lump of clay to mold in my own image.
Our new junior executive! Bring him to me.
Homer Simpson, you've been promoted. You're now an executive.
Take three minutes to say goodbye...
...and report to room 503 for reassignment to a better life.
Your "resume" seems in order. Do you have any specialties?
Backrubs for harried executives. I'll show you.
No, that will be fine. Thank you, goodbye.
-Hello. -How's my big, important executive?
Oh, Marge. Every woman I interview makes kissy faces at me.
Hello, Mr. Simpson. I'm Karl.
-Hire him. -I'll call you back.
Meeting in the board room tomorrow at 2.
-Sit there and keep your mouth shut. -Yes.
He thinks he's so big.
You don't belong here. You don't belong here.
You're a fraud and a phony, and they'll find you out.
-Who told you? -You did.
With the way you talk into your chest...
...the way you smother yourself in lime-green polyester.
I want you to say to yourself, "I deserve this.
I love it. I am nature's greatest miracle."
Go ahead, say it.
Trust me, Homer.
-Say it! -I deserve it.
-Louder. -I deserve it!
-Shout it. -I am nature's greatest miracle!
-Three weeks' vacation plus expenses. -You got it!
Let's go shopping.
Beauty.
A man's suit should make him a prince.
It should cry out:
"Here I am. Don't judge me, love me."
-Do any of these suits do that? -No.
I like this.
No, no. Stand naturally, Mr. Simpson. Let it all hang out.
You, conceal it.
-Mom and Dad have been kissing. -Gotta run.
-Happy anniversary, Homer. -Our anniversary, are you sure?
Don't worry, this year you have an excuse.
-With your job and-- -Happy anniversary.
Homer!
-Hello? -Mr. Simpson, it's Karl.
Sounds like everything's arrived. Wonderful.
-You did this? -I didn't overstep my bounds?
-I love you, Homer! -I love you, Karl-- Marge.
-Proceed, Smithers. -Our first issue is low productivity...
-...and high accident rate. -Any suggestions?
-A round of layoffs. -Caffeine in the water cooler.
Those are my ideas. You people don't think!
I promoted someone in touch with workers.
-You! -You mean him.
You. How would you improve the situation?
Well, sir, for one thing...
...we had a problem with fish sticks at lunch.
-What are you talking about? -They chop up the fish into sticks--
I know what they are! Get to the point.
You only get this tiny cup of sauce, and I always run out.
-Stop wasting our time. -Shut up!
Can't you see? A happy worker is a busy worker.
Three cents' worth of sauce could save us hours in labor.
I like the cut of your jib.
Let the fools have their tartar sauce.
Enjoy your tartar sauce, boys.
Give me your plate. Don't crowd. Plenty for everybody!
Brilliant!
Who could've imagined that reforms would pay off so quickly?
Accidents decreased by the number Simpson is known to have caused.
Output is just as high during his last holiday.
My dear, tired old Smithers. Do I detect a note of jealousy?
It is time. Give Simpson...
...the key.
Don't sit on that filthy thing one second longer.
They've given you the key.
The key!
Stunning. Absolutely stunning.
I was watching the DuMont last night and I caught a documentary on Rommel.
A man who got things done. Towel, Simpson.
-Allow me. -I said Simpson.
Sure thing, Mr. Burns.
Well done, Simpson. Now, walk behind me.
Can do, sir.
" $1000. Dimoxinil. To keep brain from freezing."
Now I've got you, Simpson.
Between your hair care and wardrobe, we're not saving for a rainy day.
Rainy day? There's never gonna be one.
There's not a cloud in the sky. What does my little girl want?
An absence of mood swings and stability in my life.
-How about a pony? -Okay!
I want you to weave your magic with my executives.
-A short speech, "Work. Work. Work." -Okay.
Excellent. Set you to your task, Simpson.
It's my sad duty to report...
...an executive has bilked you out of $1000.
What? Blast his hide to Hades!
And I was going to buy that ivory backscratcher.
-How? -He charged Dimoxinil.
-It's a baldness cure. -Thank you, professor.
I know what it is. Make an example of this hooligan.
With pleasure, sir.
You've got to help me. Mr. Burns wants me to make a speech.
-What do you want? -I came by to tell you you're fired.
Our company doesn't look kindly upon insurance fraud.
Clean out your desk by noon.
Wait, Mr. Smithers. Homer Simpson is innocent. I did this.
What are you saying?
Mr. Simpson was unaware. I take full responsibility.
Really? Well then, you're fired. Whoever you are.
Here's your $1000.
-What do you care if this guy's bald? -My reasons are my own.
Karl, you saved me. Why?
Have I done something extraordinary here today? No.
I did what any soldier would do when a grenade threatens his commander.
I threw myself upon it and bore its terrible brunt.
Thanks, Karl. I don't know what to say.
Just walk me to my car.
-Bye, Karl. I'm gonna miss you. -Bye, Mr. Simpson.
-Did you bring an umbrella today? -D'oh! No.
Here.
You're broke. You don't have Karl. He's not here.
But you've got your hair.
Oh, that big speech!
-Hey, what's happening, hepcats? -No way.
It's gotta be a fake.
It's like reals-ville, daddy-o.
What are you doing?
You little--!
Now I've got you!
Boy must die!
I love you, Dad.
Dirty trick. I won't kill you.
But I'll tell you three things that will haunt you forever.
You've ruined me, you've crippled your family and baldness is hereditary!
It is?
-Why don't you call the pharmacy? -I don't have $1000!
But you do. You've been squirreling it away.
Saving it for a rainy day, right?
Dad's taking this in a less than heroic fashion.
Oh, Homie. I'm so sorry.
Got that speech in five minutes. You're not going to hang yourself?
Dear Mr. Simpson...
...I've prepared your speech on 3-by-5 cards.
-The big words are spelled phonetically. -"Phonetically."
God bless you. You are one of Springfield's special creatures.
Your obedient servant, Karl. Good luck, sir.
That wasn't just a voice inside my head.
-Why are you here? -I came to say bye to the gals.
Thanks for the speech. But I can't give it. Look at me.
-I haven't taught you anything! -What?
The tartar sauce, the bathroom key, drying your boss's hands.
It was never the hair. You did it, because you believed you could.
-I'm a big fool. -No, you're not.
-How do you know? -Mother taught me never to kiss a fool.
-Karl. -Now go get them, tiger.
And now with some insights, one of the stars of our nuclear family...
...Homer Simpson.
Who is that old geezer? What's he done with Homer Simpson?
He is Homer Simpson, sir.
You'd think I was crazy if I did this.
-He's crazy! -Yet this company does this every day.
Bloated inventory, outmoded production methods.
I can save this company millions a year. How?
Jiko Kanri, the art of self-management.
-This bald man has no ideas. -lf it's a joke, I'm not laughing.
Telling us how to run things. He doesn't have hair.
Mining uranium that could be purchased on foreign markets.
The long-term benefits more than...
...offsetting the one-time cost, for a net savings of $5--
Lots of money.
Mr. Burns' office, right now.
Dead man coming through.
Well, well. Our dashing, young junior executive.
You made a mockery of our meeting. I should fire you on the spot!
-But I'm not going to. -Why?
-How old do you think I am? -I don't know. 102?
I'm only 81.
You may find this hard to believe, but in my salad days...
...my glory was a bright shock of strawberry blond curls.
I was big man on campus until my senior year...
...when I became as bald as a plucked chicken.
I too know the sting of male pattern baldness.
That's why I'm giving you your old job back.
What? Oh, thank you.
Get out of here before I reconsider.
Better hurry up.
-Are you still awake? -I've never been more awake in my life.
-What's wrong? -Are you kidding?
I'm stuck in a dead-end job again. The kids will hate me...
...because I can't buy the stuff I promised.
And you're not going to love me because I'm ugly and bald.
Oh, Homer. Your job has always put food on our table.
-And the kids will get over it. -And? What about loving me?
-Oh, Homer. Come here. -What?
Come here.