jamesliu23/simpsons · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 7 697
Son, this is the only time I'm ever gonna say this. It is not okay to lose.
You brought food...
Stay, stay. Good dog. Now, keep your head down.
No, not you. I'm talking to the boy. Keep your head down. Follow through...
Okay, that didn't work. This time move your head and don't follow through.
Oh, man.
What're you doing? That putter is to you what a bat is to a baseball player, what a violin is to the guy tha...the violin guy. Now, c'mon, give your putter a name.
Come on, give it a name.
Mr. Putter.
Do you wanna try a little harder, son? Come on, give it a girl's name.
Your putter's name is Charlene!
It just is. That's why.
Now, this is a picture of your enemy, Todd Flanders. Every day I want you to spend fifteen minutes staring at it and concentrating on how much you hate him and how glorious it will be when you and Charlene annihilate him.
Who's Charlene?
I'll show you who Charlene is! Now start hating!
Hi, Bart.
Homer, I couldn't help overhearing you warp Bart's mind.
Well, I'm worried that you're making too big a deal of this silly little kiddie golf tournament.
But, Marge, this is our big chance to show up the Flanderses.
Well, I'm sure it is, but why do we want to do that?
Because sometimes the only way you can feel good about yourself is by making someone else look bad. And I'm tired of making other people feel good about themselves.
Hi, Bart. What're you doing?
Lis, what do you call those guys in chess that don't matter?
Absolutely. Eeeeeeeer!
Well, a blockaded bishop is of little value, but I think you're referring to a pawn.
Right. I am a pawn.
I know. It's times like this that I'm thankful Dad has little to no interest in almost everything I do. Bart, I think I can help you.
Our journey begins here at the library.
Hi, Lisa.
Hi, Mrs. Norton.
Hi, Lisa.
Hi, Ralph.
Hi, Lisa.
Hey, gang. Okay, Bart, this is the card catalog.
Let's see, "golf"... Anecdotes, Eisenhower and, Fashion, Humor, Japanese Obsession With... ah, here it is. Putting.
And, finally, the most important book of all, The Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu.
Lisa, we can't afford all these books.
Bart, we're just gonna borrow them.
Oh, heh, heh. Gotcha.
I want you to shut off the logical part of your mind.
Embrace nothingness.
You got it.
Become like an uncarved stone.
Bart! You're just pretending to know what I'm talking about.
Well, it's very frustrating.
I'll bet.
Bart, I have a riddle for you: What's the sound of one hand clapping?
Piece of cake.
No, Bart. It's a three-thousand-year-old riddle with no answer. It's supposed to clear your mind of conscious thought.
No answer? Lisa, listen up.
Let's try another one: If a tree falls in the woods and no one's around, does it make a sound?
I said NOW!
But Bart, how can a sound exist if there's no one there to hear it?
Woooooooo!
It is time.
The basis of this game seems to be simple geometry. All you have to do is hit the ball here.
I can't believe it... You've actually found a practical use for geometry.
Bart! What're you doing? Get down from there before the neighbors see --
Hey, Simpson.
Flanders, I don't care what this looks like, Bart's gonna mop the floor with your son's ugly butt.
Well, sir, may the best man win.
Ah, "may the best man win". The mating call of the loser.
Now, just a minute, Simpson. I think my son has a very good chance.
Oh, yeah? Wanna bet?
Yeah, well, I'm not a betting man.
Oh, I'm a chicken, am I?
That's right!
All right, how's this for a wager? A batch of your wife's delicious blueberry muffins against one of my wife's homemade wind chimes!
What, are you afraid to make a real bet?
No, I just --
You know, Simpson, you're starting to annoy me.
How about this Henny Penny? If Bart wins tomorrow, you have to mow my lawn.
All right, and if Todd wins, you have to mow my lawn! And do a decent job of it, for a change!
Better yet, you have to mow my lawn in your wife's Sunday dress.
You have yourself a bet, you jackaninny!
Read that back to me, Marge.
The father of the loser mows the lawn --
Eh, eh, just a minute. "Loser" is such a harsh word. Couldn't we just say "the boy who doesn't win"?
Oh man. Fine.
The father of the boy who doesn't win has to mow the lawn in his wife's Sunday dress.
There you go.
Now I suppose you both have to sign this. I hope blood won't be necessary.
I'm game if you are, Flanders.
Good gravy, what have I done?
Keep your left arm straight, Bart... rotate your shoulders...
Look, son, all I'm asking is that you try.
Okay, I'll try.
Anybody can try! I want you to win!
Homer?!
Marge, give me your honest opinion. This? Or this?
Good morning, son! Oh, by the way, today's the day of the big tournament, and you'd better win!
See you downstairs, boy.
Heh heh... that crazy Marmaduke...
Eighth hole.
Aim for the Octopus' third tentacle.
Twelfth hole.
Bank it off the pink tombstone.
Nirvana.
A state of bliss attained through the extinction of the self.
Here you go, Bart. A lumberjack's breakfast for my little golfer.

Son, this is the only time I'm ever gonna say this. It is not okay to lose.

You brought food...

Stay, stay. Good dog. Now, keep your head down.

No, not you. I'm talking to the boy. Keep your head down. Follow through...

Okay, that didn't work. This time move your head and don't follow through.

Oh, man.

What're you doing? That putter is to you what a bat is to a baseball player, what a violin is to the guy tha...the violin guy. Now, c'mon, give your putter a name.

Come on, give it a name.

Mr. Putter.

Do you wanna try a little harder, son? Come on, give it a girl's name.

Your putter's name is Charlene!

It just is. That's why.

Now, this is a picture of your enemy, Todd Flanders. Every day I want you to spend fifteen minutes staring at it and concentrating on how much you hate him and how glorious it will be when you and Charlene annihilate him.

Who's Charlene?

I'll show you who Charlene is! Now start hating!

Hi, Bart.

Homer, I couldn't help overhearing you warp Bart's mind.

Well, I'm worried that you're making too big a deal of this silly little kiddie golf tournament.

But, Marge, this is our big chance to show up the Flanderses.

Well, I'm sure it is, but why do we want to do that?

Because sometimes the only way you can feel good about yourself is by making someone else look bad. And I'm tired of making other people feel good about themselves.

Hi, Bart. What're you doing?

Lis, what do you call those guys in chess that don't matter?

Absolutely. Eeeeeeeer!

Well, a blockaded bishop is of little value, but I think you're referring to a pawn.

Right. I am a pawn.

I know. It's times like this that I'm thankful Dad has little to no interest in almost everything I do. Bart, I think I can help you.

Our journey begins here at the library.

Hi, Lisa.

Hi, Mrs. Norton.

Hi, Lisa.

Hi, Ralph.

Hi, Lisa.

Hey, gang. Okay, Bart, this is the card catalog.

Let's see, "golf"... Anecdotes, Eisenhower and, Fashion, Humor, Japanese Obsession With... ah, here it is. Putting.

And, finally, the most important book of all, The Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu.

Lisa, we can't afford all these books.

Bart, we're just gonna borrow them.

Oh, heh, heh. Gotcha.

I want you to shut off the logical part of your mind.

Embrace nothingness.

You got it.

Become like an uncarved stone.

Bart! You're just pretending to know what I'm talking about.

Well, it's very frustrating.

I'll bet.

Bart, I have a riddle for you: What's the sound of one hand clapping?

Piece of cake.

No, Bart. It's a three-thousand-year-old riddle with no answer. It's supposed to clear your mind of conscious thought.

No answer? Lisa, listen up.

Let's try another one: If a tree falls in the woods and no one's around, does it make a sound?

I said NOW!

But Bart, how can a sound exist if there's no one there to hear it?

Woooooooo!

It is time.

The basis of this game seems to be simple geometry. All you have to do is hit the ball here.

I can't believe it... You've actually found a practical use for geometry.

Bart! What're you doing? Get down from there before the neighbors see --

Hey, Simpson.

Flanders, I don't care what this looks like, Bart's gonna mop the floor with your son's ugly butt.

Well, sir, may the best man win.

Ah, "may the best man win". The mating call of the loser.

Now, just a minute, Simpson. I think my son has a very good chance.

Oh, yeah? Wanna bet?

Yeah, well, I'm not a betting man.

Oh, I'm a chicken, am I?

That's right!

All right, how's this for a wager? A batch of your wife's delicious blueberry muffins against one of my wife's homemade wind chimes!

What, are you afraid to make a real bet?

No, I just --

You know, Simpson, you're starting to annoy me.

How about this Henny Penny? If Bart wins tomorrow, you have to mow my lawn.

All right, and if Todd wins, you have to mow my lawn! And do a decent job of it, for a change!

Better yet, you have to mow my lawn in your wife's Sunday dress.

You have yourself a bet, you jackaninny!

Read that back to me, Marge.

The father of the loser mows the lawn --

Eh, eh, just a minute. "Loser" is such a harsh word. Couldn't we just say "the boy who doesn't win"?

Oh man. Fine.

The father of the boy who doesn't win has to mow the lawn in his wife's Sunday dress.

There you go.

Now I suppose you both have to sign this. I hope blood won't be necessary.

I'm game if you are, Flanders.

Good gravy, what have I done?

Keep your left arm straight, Bart... rotate your shoulders...

Look, son, all I'm asking is that you try.

Okay, I'll try.

Anybody can try! I want you to win!

Homer?!

Marge, give me your honest opinion. This? Or this?

Good morning, son! Oh, by the way, today's the day of the big tournament, and you'd better win!

See you downstairs, boy.

Heh heh... that crazy Marmaduke...

Eighth hole.

Aim for the Octopus' third tentacle.

Twelfth hole.

Bank it off the pink tombstone.

Nirvana.

A state of bliss attained through the extinction of the self.

Here you go, Bart. A lumberjack's breakfast for my little golfer.