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Wow. How do you do that thing with your feet? |
The moonwalk? |
No, that thing with your feet. |
Here look. Just raise your heel a bit and put a little pressure on the ball of your foot. |
Hee hee hee... |
You seem like a nice guy. Why'd they put you in here? |
Because I wore a pink shirt. |
I understand. People thought I was crazy for the way I dressed. |
What'd you wear? |
One white glove, covered with rhinestones. |
Bbl--bbl--bbl--bbl-- |
Bart, in the split second before he died, I bet Scratchy appreciated his birthday present. You see how this relates to us? |
Hey, you want that once a year empty gesture. You got it, sis. |
Hey, Michael, I don't get it. These guys seem as normal as you and me. |
Homer, this is Floyd. He's an idiot savant. Give him any two numbers and he can multiply them in his head, just like that. |
Okay. Five times nine. |
Forty-five. |
We call this guy the Chief. He's been here since 1968. Never says a word, never moves a muscle. |
Hey, Chief. |
Well, it's about time somebody reach out to me. |
Gee, I gotta call my family. |
Oh, this is so embarrassing, calling 'em from a nut house. I mean, they think I'm a god. |
I could call them for you. |
Oh great! And uh, try to put a good face on this. Tell them this is one of those places where rich women lose weight. |
Joe's Crematorium. You kill 'em, we grill 'em. |
Hello. Who is this? |
I'm Bart Simpson, who the hell are you? |
I'm Michael Jackson. |
The Michael Jackson? No way! |
It's true. I'm with your father, in a mental institution. |
Uh-huh. And is Elvis with you? |
He could be. It's a big hospital. |
Aw, come on. If you're really Michael Jackson, who were your last four dates for the Grammys? |
Brooke Shields, Diana Ross, Emmanuel Lewis and Bubbles. |
Shiver me timbers, you are Michael Jackson. Can you stay on the line while I get all my friends and relatives? |
I'm afraid not, Bart. Your father really needs your help. You don't want him to get a lobotomy, do you? |
Hmmmm, lobotomy... |
That's all right, son. |
Well, there's probably a down-size I don't see. Uh-huh... New Bedlam Asylum... loves us... needs us... fears he may never see us again... Got it... Michael Jackson. Whoo-hoo! I love you, man. |
Hey Mom, Dad's in a mental institution. |
Oh my God! Mother was right. |
Now Homer, don't you worry. Your family's gonna be here before you know it. |
Forget it, pal, there's only one way out of here and it ain't pretty. |
What's that? |
Dating a nurse. |
I told you kids you were going to send your father to the crazy house. |
No, mom, you said poor house. |
I said crazy house! |
Poor house. |
Crazy house! |
Poor house. |
Crazy house! |
Hello, you've reached the New Bedlam "Wrongly Committed" Hotline. All of our operators are currently busy. Please stay on the line. |
What's wrong, Homer? |
This place is so strange. Mike, I'm ashamed to admit it to another guy, but I'm... scared. |
We all get scared once in a while. Maybe I can help you. |
HOMER, THE TWO OF US NEED LOOK NO MORE / WE BOTH FOUND WHAT WE WERE LOOKING FOR / WITH A FRIEND TO CALL MY OWN / I'LL NEVER BE ALONE / AND YOU MY FRIEND WILL SEE / YOU'VE GOT A FRIEND IN ME. |
Pancakes... football... Boobies... |
Bubbles, it's gonna be a long night. |
I WISH YOU LOVE AND GOOD WILL / I WISH YOU PEACE AND JOY / |
Please feel free to express yourselves. In these sessions we want you to feel relaxed and uninhibited. |
Okay, so I was working at an insurance company, right? Huh! Youngest VP in the history of the firm. Okay? The job was my life. Then one Monday morning, I got up and I couldn't leave the house. I just couldn't. |
Was the door locked? |
No, I just couldn't face what was out there. |
Was it raining? |
No, Homer. Dave suffers from agoraphobia -- a fear of open areas and crowds. Please, Dave, go on. |
Thank you. Anyway, that day I knew I-I just couldn't make that long drive to work. |
Were you out of gas? |
Mrs. Simpson, I'm sorry but your husband suffers from a persecution complex, extreme paranoia, and bladder hostility. |
Doctor, if you just talked to him for five minutes without mentioning our son, Bart, you'd see how sane he is. |
You mean there really is a Bart? Good Lord! |
Mmm... pancakes. |
Oh, Mr. Simpson, you've got a visitor. |
Oh, Homie. |
Mr. Simpson, after talking to your wife, we believe you're no threat to yourself or others. |
That's the most flattering thing anyone has ever said to me. Could I have it in writing, please? |
Of course. |
Not insane. |
I'm proud of you, Homer. |
Thanks a lot, Michael. You really helped me get through this. If you ever find your marbles, come visit us. |
Well, how about today? I'm only here voluntarily. |
You are? Why? |
Well, back in 1979, I got real depressed when my "Off the Wall" album just got one lousy Grammy nomination. |
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME / HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME / HAPPY BIRTHDAY, OVERLOOKED MIDDLE CHILD -- HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME. |
Joe's Taxidermy. You snuff 'em, we stuff 'em. |
Boy, when I get home, I'm going to wrap my hands around your neck -- |
-- And smother you with kisses. |
Homer, whatever they've got you on, cut the dose. |
Now listen. I'm bringing Michael Jackson home to stay with us for a few days... Isn't that cute -- he's heard of you! Now, make sure we have plenty of cold cuts, and put some beer on ice. |
Um Homer, I'm a vegetarian. And I don't drink. |
Are you sure you're here voluntarily? |
Yes. Now Homer, please make sure he doesn't tell anybody I'm coming. |
Yes Dad, I solemnly swear I will not tell another living soul... No, not even Milhouse. |
Hello, Milhouse? Can you keep a secret? |
Oh well, who cares. Michael Jackson is coming to my house! |
Michael Jackson! |
Michael Jackson! |
Michael Jackson! |
Aunt Bella! Wait a minute. I got a call on the other line. Michael Jackson! |
Michael Jackson! |
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