Grampa: Looking at that tired old freak has made me realize I'm no spring chicken myself. I can feel death's clammy hand on my shoulder. Wait, that's my hand.
Grampa: Hello. As you may know, I might not be around much longer. So, I've decided to give you your inheritance before I die. That way I can see you enjoy it. Lisa, I know you like reading and...so forth. To you, I give you my lifetime of personal correspondence"
Lisa: Thanks. [reads] "Mr. Simpson [stop] Your calls and letters are becoming nuisance [stop] If you do not cease I will be forced to pursue legal action. [stop] Signed: Boris Karloff, Hollywood, California."
Grampa: Anyway, about my washtub...I just used it that morning to wash my turkey, which in those days was known as a "walking bird". We'd always have walking bird on Thanksgiving with all the trimmings: cranberries, injun eyes, yams stuffed with gunpowder. Then we'd all watch football, which in those days was called "baseball."
Homer: Look, Maggie! It's Sergeant Thug's Mountaintop Command Post! Complete with "DeathBringer Missiles" that really launch.
Marge: Mmm...that toy isn't safe for a baby like Maggie!
Homer: Aw, come on, Marge, you're way too -- [cuts his finger on it] D'oh! Aw -- [gets electrocuted] Aah! [launches a missile into his mouth] ooh -- [it explodes]
Grampa: When I was young, toys were built to last. Look at this junk! [holds a toy rocket] It breaks the first time you take it out of the box. [he strains, then manages to break it in half] And look at these toy soldiers -- they'll break the second I step on 'em. [stomps on em] Arg! Stupid! Toy! Soldiers! Break, you stupid -- [two security guards grab him]
Guard: All right, come on, Pops. Soldiers won't bother you any more.
Lisa: I'm warning you, Mom, I may get a little crazy.
Marge: I understand. When I was your age--
Lisa: (attacking another girl) Hey, horseface, get your ugly paws off that summer fun set!
Girl: Hey, Mister, what's in the box?
Employee: [uncomfortable] Uh, it'S thE, uh, nEw tAlkInG mAlibU StAcY. [a crowd of little girls pause, then rush him]
Girls: Get him!
Employee: hElP! Mr. WIsE!
Homer: Dad, I love you, but you're a weird, sore-headed old crank and nobody likes you!
Lisa: [playing with Malibu Stacy] A hush falls over the general assembly as Stacy approaches the podium to deliver what will no doubt be a stirring and memorable address. [pulls Stacy's cord]
Malibu Stacy: I wish they taught shopping in school!
Lisa: [groans, pulls Stacy's cord again]
Malibu Stacy: Let's bake some cookies for the boys!
Lisa: Come on, Stacy. I've waited my whole life to hear you speak. Don't you have anything relevant to say? [pulls cord]
Malibu Stacy: Don't ask me, I'm just a girl. [giggles]
Bart: Right on! Say it, sister.
Lisa: It's not funny, Bart. Millions of girls will grow up thinking that this is the right way to act....that they can never be more than vacuous ninnies whose only goal is to look pretty, land a rich husband, and spend all day on the phone with their equally vacuous friends talking about how damn terrific it is to look pretty and HAVE A RICH HUSBAND!!!!
Bart: Just what I was going to say.
Malibu Stacy: Let's buy makeup so the boys will like us.
Lisa: [sighs] Don't you people see anything wrong what Malibu Stacy says?
Celeste: There's something wrong with what my Stacy says.
Malibu Stacy: [in a low voice] My spidey sense is tingling -- anybody call for a web-slinger?
Lisa: No, Celeste. I mean, the things she says are sexist.
Girls: [giggle] Lisa said a dirty word!
Lisa: They cannot keep making dolls like this! Something has to be done!
[chewing stops slowly; Homer swallows noisily]
Marge: Lisa, ordinarily I'd say you should stand up for what you believe in, but you've been doing that an awful lot lately!
Bart: Yeah, you made us march in that gay rights parade! [holds up newspaper showing gay parade with Bart prominently in front looking surprised]
Homer: And we can't watch Fox because they own those chemical weapon plants in Syria.
Lisa: I can't believe you're just going to stand by as your daughters grow up in a world where this, this, is their role model.
Marge: I had a Malibu Stacy when I was little and I turned out all right. Now let's forget our troubles with a big bowl of strawberry ice cream!
[Lisa pulls the doll's string]
Malibu Stacy: Now let's forget our troubles with a big bowl of strawberry ice cream!
Kent Brockman's Daughter: My new doll is much better than Malibu Stacy. Do a newscast about her.
Kent Brockman: Ho ho, please, honey, Daddy's job is to bring people important news. Right now I'm busy preparing a report about the 40th anniversary of Beetle Bailey.
Kent Brockman's Daughter: Oh, Daddy, that is boring. Talk about the dolly!
Kent Brockman: Well, you were right about the Berlin Wall.
Lisa: Make sure you get my mom's hair just right!
Stacy Lavelle: Um, I think we'll use someone different for the hair.
Lisa: How about me?
Stacy: Um, there's something not quite…
Bart: How about me?
Homer: How about me?
Stacy: (yells) You all have hideous hair! (the family gasps) I mean, from a design point of view. (the family agrees amongst themselves)
Grampa: I leave these: a box of mint-condition 1918 liberty-head silver dollars. You see, back in those days, rich men would ride around in Zeppelins, dropping coins on people, and one day I seen J. D. Rockefeller flying by. So I run out of the house with a big washtub and--where are you going?
Homer: Dad, we'd love to stay here and listen to your amusing antidote, but we have to take these coins to the mall and spend 'em!
Lisa: I'd be mortified if someone ever made a lousy product with the Simpson name on it.
Lisa: Mom! We could go on the factory tour and I could complain in person!
Marge: Honey, you're not going to throw red paint at the executives, are you? The Keebler people were very upset.
Grampa: Do we sell... French... fries?
Tour Guide: Welcome to "Enchantment Lane," where all the parts come together and Malibu Stacy is born. Some folks say there's a little touch of fairy dust in the air.
(Scene changes to tough looking man assembling dolls)
Man: Aw, crap. There's a clog in the torso chute!!! Leroy! Get your ass in gear.
Leroy: Shut your hole. [jams a mop in the chute and a whole pile of torsos fall out]
Narrator: [on the Malibu Stacy promotional video] Malibu Stacy: America's favorite eight-and-a-half incher. In 1959, homemaker Stacy Lovell had a design and a dream. The design? Malibu Stacy. The dream? To mass market a fashion doll that was also edible. Kids didn't much like the taste of dried onion meal, but they loved the doll. A second, plastic Malibu Stacy took America by storm. Just ask the owner of the world's largest Malibu Stacy collection: Waylon Smithers of Springfield.
Smithers: Hello, Malibu Stacy collectors. I'll see you at StacyCon '94, at the San Diego Airport Hilton!
Narrator: And what does Stacy think of her thirty-five years of success and millions of friends worldwide?
Malibu Stacy: Don't ask me, I'm just a girl. [giggles]
Narrator: [chuckles] She sure is.
[Smithers turns on his computer. His start-up animation is a picture of Mr. Burns]
Mr. Burns: [in choppy, spliced dialogue] Hello—Smithers. You're—quite good—at turning—me—on.
Smithers: Umm.....you probably should ignore that.
Stacy: I may have had things in common with Stacy at the beginning, but 30 years of living her lifestyle taught me some very harsh lessons. Five husbands: Ken, Johnny, Joe, Dr. Colossus, Steve Austin....
Lisa: But if you can learn from Malibu Stacy's mistakes, so can everyone! I'm sure we can think of something together. Come on!
Stacy: Not now, I'm...too drunk.
Lisa: No, you're not. [Stacy sips slowly from a drink, then sighs] Uh, I'll come back tomorrow.
Lisa: [about her doll] She'll have the wisdom of Gertrude Stein and the wit of Cathy Guisewite, the tenacity of Nina Totenberg, and the common sense of Elizabeth Cady Stanton! And to top it off, the down-to-earth good looks of Eleanor Roosevelt.
Lisa: [about her doll's name] All right. Now all we need is a name.
Bart: How about Blabbermouth, the jerky doll for jerks?
Lisa: How about Minerva, after the Roman goddess of wisdom?
Stacy: Ehh, not enough commercial appeal.
Bart: Wendy Windbag? Ugly Doris? Hortense the Mule-Faced Doll!
Stacy: I think we should name her after Lisa. We'll call her Lisa Lionheart.
Bart: No, Loudmouth Lisa! Stupid Lisa Garbage Face! [no one listens] I can't stand this any longer. Somebody please pay attention to me! Hello, pay attention to me! Look at me! I'm Bart, I'm Bart! Look at me, look at me, look at me!
Lisa: This is great. They're really going to sell our doll!
Stacy: Well, it wasn't difficult. I just told them who I was, and who you were, and they couldn't resist.
Stacy: Well, I didn't tell them who you were.
Grampa: I shouldn't be listening to complaints, I should be making them with you guys! The good Lord lets us grow old for a reason; to gain the wisdom to find fault with everything He's made.
Lisa: You know, if we get through to just that one little girl, it'll all be worth it!
Stacy: Yes. Particularly if that little girl happens to pay $46,000 for that doll.
Stacy: Oh, nothing.
Lisa: It's awful being a kid. No one listens to you.
Grampa: It's rotten being old. No one listens to you.
Homer: I'm a white male, age 18 to 49. Everyone listens to me--no matter how dumb my suggestions are.
(Homer holds up a can reading "Nuts and Gum, Together At Last")