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- (Homer is panicking that there will soon be a meltdown)
- Homer: What do I do, what do I do? Come on, think back to your training!
- (Flashback to 1980. Homer is fiddling with a Rubik's Cube while his supervisor is giving him on the job training)
- Supervisor: Okay, now we move on to the emergency override button. In case of meltdown you are to push this button and only this button. Excuse me Homer, are you paying attention to the lesson?
- Homer: Yeah, yeah. Emergency button rideover. Got it.
- (Present day. Homer is holding up the Rubik's Cube)
- Homer: D'oh! This is all your fault!
- Homer: Got to think! Somewhere there's a thingy that tells you how to work this stuff. The, um manual! The manual, right. (finds manual) Aha! It's as fat as a phone book! "Congratulations on your purchase of a Fissionator..." D'oh! Get to the point! Ooh, what's this? D'oh! Who'd have thought a nuclear reactor would be so complicated?
- Homer: This is the only paper in America not afraid to tell the truth: that everything is just fine!
- Smithers: May I ask about your weekend?
- Mr. Burns: A bit overly familiar, but I'll allow it. I took in a movie. A piece of filth featuring a blonde harlot who spent half the film naked as a jaybird. Give the great unwashed a pair of oversized breasts and a happy ending and they'll oink for more.
- (Cut to the employee lounge.)
- Homer: What a movie! And that blonde, does she have assets! Heh-heh-heh!
- Lenny: Sounds like my kind of flick!
- Carl: And how!
- All: Oink-oink-oink!
- Mr. Burns: Call me old-fashioned, but movies were sexier when the actors kept their clothes on.
- Smithers: There may never be another time to say I love you, sir.
- Mr. Burns: Oh, hot dog. Thank you for making my last few moments socially awkward.
- Mr. Burns: Where is the meltdown originating?
- Smithers: Sector 7G, sir.
- Mr. Burns: 7G? Good God, who's the Safety Inspector there?
- Smithers: Homer Simpson, sir.
- Mr. Burns: Simpson, eh? Good man, intelligent?
- Smithers: Actually sir, he was hired under Project Bootstrap.
- Mr. Burns: (sarcastically) Thank you, President Ford...
- Marge: Dear Lord, if you spare this town from becoming a smoking hole in the ground I'll try to be a better Christian. I don't know what I can do... Oh, the next time there's a canned food drive, I'll give the poor something they'd actually like instead of old lima beans and pumpkin mix.
- Otto: By the way, I'd like to say applause, applause to birthday boy Milhouse for his totally bitchin' party on Saturday! Milhouse, I think I left my pants on your roof.
- Otto: Bye, little dudes! Don't learn anything I wouldn't learn!
- Bart: Now we're even for your party come on let's go play.
- Milhouse: Bart, my mom won't let me be your friend anymore. That's why you couldn't come to the party.
- Bart: What's she got against me?
- Milhouse: She said you're a bad influence...
- Bart: Bad influence, my butt! How many times have I told you: never listen to your mother!?
- Milhouse: But Bart she threatened to cut off my allowance.
- Bart: Whatever she's paying I'll double it.
- Milhouse: I'm really sorry, Bart.
- Lisa: A role model in my very own home! How convenient!
- Barney: So the next time somebody tells you carny folk are good, honest people you can spit in their faces for me.
- Lisa: If you'll excuse me, I'm profiling my dad for the school paper. I thought I'd follow him around for a day to see what makes him tick.
- Barney: Aw, that's sweet. I followed my dad to a lot of bars too.
- Marge: Look, I know Bart can be a handful but I also know what he's like inside. He's got a spark. It's not a bad thing. Of course, it makes him do bad things.
- Homer: Well, you know, boys, a nuclear reactor is a lot like a woman: you just read the manual and press the right button.
- Mr. Burns: Ari's been having terrible worker problems. They've lost their zest for work. Help them find their eanae-eharatou-nah-duleve.
- Homer: Their eanae-haratou-doola what?
- Mr. Burns: We want you to give them a pep talk that turns them from donut-eating goof-offs into Homer Simpsons.
- Mr. Burns: Oh, Smithers, I guess there's nothing left to do but kiss my sorry ass goodbye.
- Smithers: Uh, may I, sir?
- Mr. Burns: Ugh.