jamesliu23/simpsons · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 7 697
Checkers.
Yeah. And one of the Lassies is in there too. The mean one. The one that mauled Timmy.
Hey! Wait a minute, does this have anything to do with Santa's Little Helper?
Oh, honey. Seven-hundred and fifty dollars is a lot of money. We really can't afford this operation.
You're gonna just let him die?
I know you're upset --
Darn right I'm upset!
Bart, watch your language. Oh. You did. Sorry.
We are not going to let our dog die! And that's IT! Lousy dog-killing sonsa...
But it'll be okay... we'll get him a new dog... one with an untwistable stomach...
Oh, come on! I'm sorry, but we just can't afford it. Marge, make him stop.
Thanks, Mom.
All right. All right. We'll find a way. Lousy manipulative dog.
Uh... Mr. Burns... I need to borrow some money.
Please, do go on...
I know you're a good man... and I have a dog that's very sick...
Oh, please, continue...
I thought maybe you...
Oh. Well, thanks for your time.
What makes a man endanger his job, and yes, even his life, by asking me for money?
People like dogs, Mr. Burns.
Nonsense! Dogs are idiots. Think about it, Smithers. If I came into your house and started sniffing at your crotch and slobbering all over your face, what would you say?
Uh... if YOU did it, sir?...
Exactly! You'd be fit to be tied! Dogs!
You are NOT going to perform that operation yourself.
But Marge! It looks so easy! Just like carving a turkey.
Maybe you're right, Marge.
I've found a way we can pay for the operation.
Whattaya got, Marge? Insurance scam?
No. I'm afraid we're just going to have to make a few sacrifices. Homer, you're going to have to give up beer for a while.
Bart, from now on you'll have to get your hair cut for free at Springfield Barber College.
No problemo.
I'm going to give up buying my weekly lottery ticket, and I found a way to stretch the food budget. Fried chicken night will now be organ meat night. Ham night will be Spam night. And porkchop night...
... will now be chub night.
Chub? I don't even know what that is!
Lisa, I'm afraid we'll have to stop getting you those volumes of Encyclopedia Generica from the grocery store.
But, Mom, next week is volume four: Copernicus through Elephantiasis.
We all have to make sacrifices, dear. Maggie's baby clothes will have to last for a little longer...
Marge, I've figured out an alternative to giving up my beer. Basically, we become a family of traveling acrobats...
I don't think you've thought this through.
Good news, Mr. Danielson, we saved your gamecock. But I'm afraid he'll never fight again.
That's what you think. He'll fight and he'll win!
Clamp. Wipe... No! No!
Come to the light, boy. Come into the light. Come on now. There's a good boy. Come on. Come on.
Um... Simpson?
It's times like this I'm glad I flunked out of dental school.
Lousy chub night. Hey, how come he gets meat and we don't?
You wouldn't want what he's eating. It's mostly just snouts and entrails.
Mmm... snouts.
Yes, I'm back. Kent Brockman is not the kind of a man who would leave a $500,000 a year job just because he won a lottery. Hey, I'm a journalist.
Well, he's got all the money in the world, but there's one thing he can't buy.
What's that?
A dinosaur.
Of course I'm not the only one who benefited from last week's big payoff. Our state's schools got their share too. Here, lottery officials present Springfield Elementary with a brand new eraser.
One eraser? Oh, I'm used to my government betraying me. I was in Nam. I served for three --
And speaking of lotteries, here are the winning numbers for this week's forty-thousand dollar "jackpot": 3 - 6 - 17 - 18 - 22 and 29.
Oh no! Those are my numbers! If it wasn't for that dog, I would've won!
Class, for tomorrow, I want you to write a report on Copernicus.
C'mon boozehound! You want the twenty five cents, don't you? Keep singin'!
BUFFALO GALS WON'T YOU COME OUT TONIGHT / COME OUT TONIGHT / COME OUT TONIGHT... OH BUFFALO GALS...
Who's that old rummy?
Before his dog got sick, that "old rummy" used to be my best customer.
AND DANCE BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOONNNNNNNN!
Go get it, pal.
My quarter!!!
Okay, I'll just even this out and.
Mr. Laswell! I've done it again.
I know you can't understand me, but you're a lousy dog and I hate you.
Not now.
Can't you see I'm reading a third-rate biography of Copernicus I found at the bus station?
Dumb dog.
Homie, did you close the gate?
Oh, you mean tonight.
The dog will get out!
Bart! Close the gate.
Lisa! Close the gate.
Close the gate, Maggie.
Here boy!
Here Santa's Little Helper!
It's all my fault. I called him a dumb dog.
Oh he's gone and he's never coming back. Wait! There he is. No... that's a horse.
Have you found a picture yet?
Not one that I want the public to see.
... So recycling is our way of giving Mother Earth a great big hug.
Yes, well, it does sound like fun. I can't wait to start pawing through my garbage like some starving raccoon.
Release the hounds. Well, neighbor I see you've got your running shoes on. That's a good thing.
What's wrong with Crippler?
He's getting on, sir. He's been here since the late sixties.
Ah yes, I'll never forget the day he bagged his first hippie. That young man didn't think it was too "groovy."
I'm looking for something in an attack dog. One who likes the sweet gamy tang of human flesh.
Why here's the fellow! Wiry... fast... firm proud buttocks. Reminds me of me.
Uh...the last one.
Now! As an attack dog, you'll be expected to neutralize intruders.
Wanna buy some cookies? Wanna buy some cookies?
If that were a real Girl Scout I'd have been bothered by now.
I know how you feel, I lost my dog too. He's in here somewhere.
Now here's a film that will turn you into a vicious souless killer. Enjoy.
Poor Santa's Little Helper. I'm starting to think we'll never see him again.
That was his dish, and that was his leash, and that's where he took a whiz on the rug.
Homer get a-hold of yourself. Even if he has passed on, there's no reason to cry. Remember Doggie Heaven.

Checkers.

Yeah. And one of the Lassies is in there too. The mean one. The one that mauled Timmy.

Hey! Wait a minute, does this have anything to do with Santa's Little Helper?

Oh, honey. Seven-hundred and fifty dollars is a lot of money. We really can't afford this operation.

You're gonna just let him die?

I know you're upset --

Darn right I'm upset!

Bart, watch your language. Oh. You did. Sorry.

We are not going to let our dog die! And that's IT! Lousy dog-killing sonsa...

But it'll be okay... we'll get him a new dog... one with an untwistable stomach...

Oh, come on! I'm sorry, but we just can't afford it. Marge, make him stop.

Thanks, Mom.

All right. All right. We'll find a way. Lousy manipulative dog.

Uh... Mr. Burns... I need to borrow some money.

Please, do go on...

I know you're a good man... and I have a dog that's very sick...

Oh, please, continue...

I thought maybe you...

Oh. Well, thanks for your time.

What makes a man endanger his job, and yes, even his life, by asking me for money?

People like dogs, Mr. Burns.

Nonsense! Dogs are idiots. Think about it, Smithers. If I came into your house and started sniffing at your crotch and slobbering all over your face, what would you say?

Uh... if YOU did it, sir?...

Exactly! You'd be fit to be tied! Dogs!

You are NOT going to perform that operation yourself.

But Marge! It looks so easy! Just like carving a turkey.

Maybe you're right, Marge.

I've found a way we can pay for the operation.

Whattaya got, Marge? Insurance scam?

No. I'm afraid we're just going to have to make a few sacrifices. Homer, you're going to have to give up beer for a while.

Bart, from now on you'll have to get your hair cut for free at Springfield Barber College.

No problemo.

I'm going to give up buying my weekly lottery ticket, and I found a way to stretch the food budget. Fried chicken night will now be organ meat night. Ham night will be Spam night. And porkchop night...

... will now be chub night.

Chub? I don't even know what that is!

Lisa, I'm afraid we'll have to stop getting you those volumes of Encyclopedia Generica from the grocery store.

But, Mom, next week is volume four: Copernicus through Elephantiasis.

We all have to make sacrifices, dear. Maggie's baby clothes will have to last for a little longer...

Marge, I've figured out an alternative to giving up my beer. Basically, we become a family of traveling acrobats...

I don't think you've thought this through.

Good news, Mr. Danielson, we saved your gamecock. But I'm afraid he'll never fight again.

That's what you think. He'll fight and he'll win!

Clamp. Wipe... No! No!

Come to the light, boy. Come into the light. Come on now. There's a good boy. Come on. Come on.

Um... Simpson?

It's times like this I'm glad I flunked out of dental school.

Lousy chub night. Hey, how come he gets meat and we don't?

You wouldn't want what he's eating. It's mostly just snouts and entrails.

Mmm... snouts.

Yes, I'm back. Kent Brockman is not the kind of a man who would leave a $500,000 a year job just because he won a lottery. Hey, I'm a journalist.

Well, he's got all the money in the world, but there's one thing he can't buy.

What's that?

A dinosaur.

Of course I'm not the only one who benefited from last week's big payoff. Our state's schools got their share too. Here, lottery officials present Springfield Elementary with a brand new eraser.

One eraser? Oh, I'm used to my government betraying me. I was in Nam. I served for three --

And speaking of lotteries, here are the winning numbers for this week's forty-thousand dollar "jackpot": 3 - 6 - 17 - 18 - 22 and 29.

Oh no! Those are my numbers! If it wasn't for that dog, I would've won!

Class, for tomorrow, I want you to write a report on Copernicus.

C'mon boozehound! You want the twenty five cents, don't you? Keep singin'!

BUFFALO GALS WON'T YOU COME OUT TONIGHT / COME OUT TONIGHT / COME OUT TONIGHT... OH BUFFALO GALS...

Who's that old rummy?

Before his dog got sick, that "old rummy" used to be my best customer.

AND DANCE BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOONNNNNNNN!

Go get it, pal.

My quarter!!!

Okay, I'll just even this out and.

Mr. Laswell! I've done it again.

I know you can't understand me, but you're a lousy dog and I hate you.

Not now.

Can't you see I'm reading a third-rate biography of Copernicus I found at the bus station?

Dumb dog.

Homie, did you close the gate?

Oh, you mean tonight.

The dog will get out!

Bart! Close the gate.

Lisa! Close the gate.

Close the gate, Maggie.

Here boy!

Here Santa's Little Helper!

It's all my fault. I called him a dumb dog.

Oh he's gone and he's never coming back. Wait! There he is. No... that's a horse.

Have you found a picture yet?

Not one that I want the public to see.

... So recycling is our way of giving Mother Earth a great big hug.

Yes, well, it does sound like fun. I can't wait to start pawing through my garbage like some starving raccoon.

Release the hounds. Well, neighbor I see you've got your running shoes on. That's a good thing.

What's wrong with Crippler?

He's getting on, sir. He's been here since the late sixties.

Ah yes, I'll never forget the day he bagged his first hippie. That young man didn't think it was too "groovy."

I'm looking for something in an attack dog. One who likes the sweet gamy tang of human flesh.

Why here's the fellow! Wiry... fast... firm proud buttocks. Reminds me of me.

Uh...the last one.

Now! As an attack dog, you'll be expected to neutralize intruders.

Wanna buy some cookies? Wanna buy some cookies?

If that were a real Girl Scout I'd have been bothered by now.

I know how you feel, I lost my dog too. He's in here somewhere.

Now here's a film that will turn you into a vicious souless killer. Enjoy.

Poor Santa's Little Helper. I'm starting to think we'll never see him again.

That was his dish, and that was his leash, and that's where he took a whiz on the rug.

Homer get a-hold of yourself. Even if he has passed on, there's no reason to cry. Remember Doggie Heaven.