Sideshow Bob: Oh! I renew my objection to this pointless endeavor! informally now and by affidavit later... time permitting.
Chief Wiggum: Shut your wordhole! We gotta get this place clean for the air show.
Sideshow Bob: Air show? Buzz cut Alabamians spewing colored smoke from their whiz jets to the strains of "Rock You Like a Hurricane"? What kind of country-fried rube is still impressed by that?!
[Cut to the Simpson family expressing great excitement about the air show]
Sideshow Bob: Oh, how I loathe that box that omnidirectional sludge pump droning and burping-
Prisoner: Look here! That's enough now! I own 60% of that network!
Chief Wiggum: All right, break it up, boys. It's time for work detail.
Prisoner: I suppose you don't like tabloid newspapers either?
Sergeant: Authorization code?
Sideshow Bob: [impersonating Colonel Leslie Hapablap] Code!? Son, this is Colonel Hapablap. That fool McGuckett sprayed runway foam all over Chuck Yeager's Acura. Now get down there with the chamois triple time!
Sergeant: But Colonel, I'm under strict orders...
Sideshow Bob: Sweet Enola Gay, son! Get moving or I'll tear you up like a Kleenex at a...
Sideshow Bob breaks character and speaks didainfully in his natural voice.
Sideshow Bob: ...snot party.
Sergeant: Sir! Right away Sir!
Chief Wiggum: Hey! Where is Sideshow Bob and that guy who, uh, eats people and takes their faces?
Criminal: I'm right here, Chief.
Chief Wiggum: Oh. Then where's Sideshow Bob?
Criminal: Uh, he ran off.
Chief Wiggum: Oh, great. Well, if anyone asks, uh, I beat him to death, okay?
Sideshow Bob: Oh, and one more thing. I've... stolen a nuclear weapon. If you do not rid this city of television within two hours, I will detonate it. Farewell. *Tyranno-Vision buzzes off and citizens panic. Tyranno-Vision buzzes on again.* By the way, I'm aware of the irony of appearing on TV in order to decry it, so don't bother pointing that out. *Tyranno-Vision buzzes off once more*
Abe: This elevator only goes to the basement, and someone made an awful mess down there.
Mayor Quimby: This town will not negotiate with terrorists. Is there a town nearby that will?
Lisa: I want to meet the first female stealth bomber pilot. During the Gulf War, she destroyed seventy mosques, and her name is Lisa too!
Bart: [checks out the Wright Brothers' Model B] Look at that hunk-a-junk!
Abe: [stutters in shock at Bart's rude comment and then scoffs] You're ignorant! That's the Wright Brothers' plane! At Kitty Hawk in 1903, Charles Lindbergh flew it 15 miles on a thimble full of corn oil. Single-handedly won us the civil war, it did!
Bart: So how do you know so much about American history?
Abe: I pieced it together mostly from sugar packets.
Tour Guide: The Harrier jet is one of our more dollar-intensive, ordnance-delivery vectors.
Marge: Five tires? Am I seeing things?
Tour Guide: And although it looks complicated it's so well-designed, even a child could fly it.
Bart: Can I fly it?
Tour Guide: Of course you cannot.
Milhouse: [pretends to shoot missiles from an airplane] Take that, Mom! Take that, Dad! Send me to a psychiatrist, will you? Take that, Dr. Sally Waxler!
Homer: Pff. That Sideshow Mel thinks he's so big. Whatever happened to Sideshow Bob?
Homer: Oh yeah. But what I'll mainly remember is the laughter. I wonder he's doing now.
Kent Brockman: And as my final newscast draws to a close I'm reminded of a few of the events that brought me closer to you. The collapse of the Soviet Union, premium ice cream price wars, dogs that were mistakenly issued major credit cards, and others who weren't so lucky. And so, farewell. And don't forget to look for my new column in PC World magazine.
Lisa: [rushes out of the Air Force base and back to Homer and Marge] Mom, I found Sideshow Bob's hideout, and I got a secret message to the police, and I had a blimp fall on me, and I was in an atomic blast, but I'm okay now!
Homer: Well, I wrecked the gate, but you don't hear me bragging.
Sideshow Bob: Ah, for the days when aviation was a gentleman's pursuit back before every Joe sweat sock could wedge himself behind a lunch tray and jet off to Raleigh-Durham.
Bart: [spitting] Are you getting lots of bugs in your mouth, too? [spits]
Sideshow Bob: Yes.
Sideshow Bob: Damn it, Bob! There were plenty of brand-new bombs. But you had to go for that retro '50s charm!
Sideshow Bob: How ironic. My crusade against television has come to an end so formulaic it could have spewed from the PowerBook of the laziest Hollywood hack.