(originally aired November 8, 1990)
Perhaps “Dancin’ Homer” suffers from following an episode that tackled so much and felt so epic in scale. Here we have a decidedly smaller, more low-key and leisurely saga featuring Homer’s trials and tribulations at a brand new job, the first of many many MANY occupations he would briefly hold over the next twenty years. There’s something about this story that doesn’t quite ring true with me, though. There are elements that are spot-on, a lot of funny bits, but it doesn’t pack the punch that it feels it does.

We start at Moe’s Tavern, where a despondent Homer spins his tale of woe, a wrap-around that I never thought was too effective. The story begins at the ballpark during the “Nuclear Plant Employees, Spouses, and No More Than Three Children Night.” In a bit of a reprisal from “There’s No Disgrace Like Home,” we get Mr. Burns’s contractually obligation to warm up to the lower, less financially well-off life forms that are his employees. Homer fears that being seated next to his boss will ruin his good time, but shockingly, Burns proves to be good company, buying them beers, heckling players and doing a two-man wave. Even though last episode showed Burns straining to smile and his vow to destroy Homer’s life, we can still believe these characters can get along in some degree. Their banter back and forth is charming, it’s like the oddest of odd couples. Attempting to rouse up the crowd to aid the failing Springfield Isotopes, Homer cavorts and dances about like a fool in the dugout, sparking a rise out of the crowd, including the batter, who hits a home run, winning the game.

Homer is hired by the team to be their official mascot. Dubbed “Dancin’ Homer,” his crowd-pleasing buffoonery carries on the Isotopes winning streak, and he gains greater and greater popularity. Perhaps part of why I’m not so into this episode is I don’t understand the in-universe Dancin’ Homer phenomenon. I get that that’s part of the joke, and the character is partially based off of overenthusiastic fans’ chants and rituals becoming fan favorites and stadium institutions, but really, Homer’s act is not all that rousing. The big finale where the Capital City folks don’t “get” him is not so much a letdown as it was a logical conclusion for me. Sure, I felt bad for Homer, but at least my feelings were vindicated. But I’m skipping ahead here…

It isn’t long until Homer is called into the big leagues: Capitol City. The true savior of the episode is the Capitol City montage. First off, it establishes the Simpsons as small-town rubes in the face of the big city, full of mystery and wonder. Accompanying their drive in is an ode to the city in song, sung by the great Tony Bennett, kind of a riff on “New York, New York.” It’s the first instance of a celebrity playing themselves as Marge points him out singing the song, and he gives a quick aside, “Hey, good to see you!” It’s a sweet little moment, and the song is so brilliant. It really sets the mood, of a city that makes a bum feel like a king, and makes a king feel like some sort of nutty coo-coo super king. Also brilliant is the Capitol City Goofball, the mascot Homer is filling in for, an bizarre, mismatched whatchamacallit mascot design, a weird Muppet-type creature with deely boppers, a baseball torso, a giant horn nose, and a smooth, mellow voice performed by Tom Poston. Part of the fun is the two sitting and talking about their acts very seriously. It’s where I most buy the premise: as preposterous and stupid as this game is, Homer is taking it to heart and trying as hard as he can. However, his best efforts don’t cut it for the Capitol City crowd, and he and the family are sent back from whence they came.

I like the basic premise of chronicling the story like it’s of a pro athlete’s rise and fall, but it’s just of the goofy mascot. We even get a great play off of Pride of the Yankees, wherein Homer considers himself the luckiest mascot on the face of the Earth, is comforted by a Babe Ruth lookalike, and stumbles into the dugout on his way out. There’s plenty of parts that work in it, but all-in-all, it doesn’t resonate with me as a whole story. The wraparound device and Homer’s interruptions about the seriousness of the story feel so out of place. Perhaps if they had stuck with the story playing out on its own, it wouldn’t have had that odd story bit over its head. But with “Capitol City,” Bleeding Gums Murphy’s 26-minute national anthem, and “little baby batter can’t control his bladder,” this episode is still deserving of classic distinction.

Tidbits and Quotes
– A true classic Homer line: “Marge, this ticket doesn’t just give me a seat, it also gives me the right, no, the duty to make a complete ass of myself.”
– Another call-back to “Disgrace” with Smithers giving Burns cards with his employee’s family’s names. Homer seems to have grown a bit more backbone in correcting his boss’s erroneously referring to them as “The Simps.”
– All the bits at the ballpark are really funny: washed out played Flash Baylor’s baseball coming onto Marge (and Homer’s immense pride about it), the Jumbo-tron, and, as mentioned, Bleeding Gums. I like how sweet it is that Lisa remains standing and attentive to her hero’s whole performance.
– Here we get the first real great “Burns talk,” where he speaks of shaming and taunting Satchel Paige and Connie Mack, players who were in the leagues, back in 1990, over eighty-some-odd years ago.
– Marge’s line upon seeing a Dancin’ Homer shirt (“A Simpson on a T-shirt? I never thought I’d see the day.”) is a great remark about the rampant Simpsons merchandising at the time.
– Kind of shocking to see Homer concerned about seeing if he can get time off from work, when in recent years he mostly doesn’t even show up. We get a great quick scene where his supervisor is more than happy to give Homer as much time away from the plant as possible (“Sure, what would you like? Four years? Five years.”)
– Homer and The Goof talking shop is a very lovely scene (“What exactly do you have planned for us?” “Well, I get up, I dance, I spell out the name of the city, all to the tune of ‘Baby Elephant Walk.'” “Ah, Mancini. The mascot’s best friend.”)
– For some reason, I always love Homer’s assertion that the Dancin’ Homer costume is buried. Like he felt so ashamed, he couldn’t even bear disgracing his trash cans with it.

(originally aired November 1, 1990)
The series shows some growing up this episode both in size and scope: we go from one boy’s concern on passing a test to an entire gubernatorial race from start to finish in just a few episodes. We continue to see the show’s evolution in its greater showcasing of the world of Springfield, and a more extended look at our favorite heartless billionaire C. Montgomery Burns. This episode is a real tour de force, working as a character examination, a riff on smarmy political tactics and the media feeding into it, and some parody worked in with pieces of Burns echoing Charles Foster Kane. Even with all this, we still work in the Simpson family, who provide running commentary from the common man’s perspective, and inevitably become the undoing of the greedy, wealthy ruling class.

This episode feels so current, but has classic, old-timey elements to it: the media circus we see in the third act is as accurate now twenty years later, but we begin with a 1930s reporter coming to town looking for a hot scoop. Against the hokey Americana scene of Bart and Lisa fishing at the ol’ swimmin’ hole, it looks perfectly at home, and absolutely reeks of the touch of writer John Swartzwelder (just look at his comedy novellas for more of this kind of stuff). The reporter hits the jackpot in the form of a three-eyed fish (its second appearance, now dubbed Blinky; the creature would sort of become the show’s unofficial mascot), which clearly has been contaminated by run-off from the nuclear plant. After a great sequence of inspectors examining the egregious safety violations, they demand Burns bring the plant up to code with a $56 million price tag, or they’ll shut it down. We see Burns at his most vulnerable (and a tad inebriated) after this, as does Homer, who has managed to sleep in at work past closing time. The two share an odd emotional moment as Burns explains the dilemma, and Homer inadvertently gets the plot rolling by off-offhandedly mentioning that if Burns were governor, he could do whatever he pleased.

And so the Burns campaign begins. Everything about it is so spot-on in so many ways. His team seems to be broken into two halves: one to elevate his public image from despicable monster to respectable human being, and the other to make his opponent, the incumbent Mary Bailey, do the reverse. The episode mocks the ham-fisted, pandering nature of political promotion by managing to spin a widely hated man like Mr. Burns into a Samaritan. We start with a PSA hosted by Burns explaining the phenomenon that is Blinky. It starts with the classic gag of Burns badmouthing the public, unaware that the feed is going out live. On a shitty show, this would be the climax of the third act, and Burns’ sshameful undoing, but here, we just gloss right over it. As long as Burns makes a convincing-ish argument, the short-attention-span-adled public will forget all about it. And what an argument, complete with an actor portraying Charles Darwin giving his expert opinion on Blinky’s rapidly accelerated, but completely natural evolution. Ending with a catchy jingle (“Only a moron wouldn’t cast his vote for Monty Burns!”), the public is instantly swayed. Brilliant.

I love how Burns not only is clearly tortured that he must act open and approachable, but he has nothing but absolute contempt for the common man. His actions are purely self-serving, and he’ll put up with whatever he has to to get what he wants, but throughout the entire episode, he treats the normal actions and behaviors of regular people like they’re aliens from another planet. There’s also the overt parallels to Citizen Kane, in Burns’s rise to power, in the characters themselves, bold, powerful men who are dwarfed by their crippling loneliness, and obvious references to the film, such as Burns’s campaign speech before a giant photo of himself, and his breakdown at the very end. For many people like myself, The Simpsons was our introduction to classic films like this, The Godfather, It’s a Wonderful Life, and many others; I remember watching them exclusively to see the origination of the parodies (and who’d have known that they’re actually pretty good films?) But the references are actually worked into the characters and the situations; the joke works because Burns works as a Charles Foster Kane type. It’s the correct way to do a parody, rather than expect the joke to be the reference itself, like another FOX animated show that I will not speak the name of here.

Burns’s campaign would have gone off without a hitch had it not been for those meddling Simpsons. Homer is in full, unwavering support of his boss for obvious reasons, but Marge remains steady in her opinion of Burns being pure evil. In one final pandering publicity stunt, Burns has dinner at the Simpson house the night before the election, an event full of cameras, cue cards and a total lack of anything genuine in nature. But Marge puts an end to that last bit: inspired by a off-hand comment Homer made about how she can express herself through the house she keeps and the food she cooks, dinner comes in the form of a three-eyed fish, and Burns finds he can’t swallow his own hypocrisy, spitting out his first bite, ruining the election (odd how two absent-minded comments Homer makes both start and complete the plot). Burns throws as big a tantrum as he can, weakly managing to topple a few things at the Simpson home, promises to destroy Homer’s dreams and takes his leave. Marge reassures her husband with a sweet ending (“When a man’s biggest dreams include seconds on dessert, occasional snuggling and sleeping in til noon on weekends, no one man can destroy them.”) While the aim of this show reaches so high with the Burns stuff, it never loses sight of the emotional core, the Simpson family, who are given equal attention and merit in the episode without feeling shoehorned in. It’s a shining example of showcasing a minor character while allowing the main characters their own time to shine as well. This is the first episode I would label as perfect, the definition of classic Simpsons

Tidbits and Quotes
– I love Lisa’s response to Dave Shutton’s inquiry about she and Bart’s fishing (“My brother’s using worms, but I, who feel the tranquility far outweighs the actual catching of fish, am using nothing.”)
– The plant inspection is a forebearer to the goofier the show would become later (“Gum used to seal crack in cooling tower… plutonium rod used as paperweight…”)
– Burns’s arrogant and ruthless behavior is revealed early on, when he is completely aghast that the inspector isn’t taking his bribe. He doesn’t know much about the common man, but they’ll shut up if enough dough is thrown their way, but not this time.
– This is the first episode that the question of what state Springfield is in really starts to present itself. The state flag really nails this pointless debate right away: stripes, a star, and the slogan, “Not Just Another State.”
– I love Dan Castellaneta’s performance as “Charles Darwin.” I can’t even place that accent, I guess it’s sort of English… I guess?
– The foreshadowing is so subtle here, where Burns claims that Blinky is “a miracle of nature, with a taste that can’t be beat!”
– Abe has a great comment following Burns’s PSA (“That Burns is just what this state needs: Young blood!”)
– I don’t think Smithers says a word in this episode; he’s basically replaced by Burns’s campaign manager. But I love seeing him in the background, standing and smiling wearing pro-Burns paraphernalia.
– Burns is so pandering in his political jargon, all he ever rants about is how he’s going to show those bureaucrats what for and he’ll lower taxes. He doesn’t care about any of that, he just chose an issue he thinks the public will respond to, and, as established earlier, the only thing he knows is that he can mollify others by promising them more money. It’s purely contemptuous of these lower life forms, aka the non-wealthy (“The voters now see you as imperial and god-like. But there’s a down-side to it. The latest polls indicate you’re in danger of losing touch with the common man.” “Oh, dear! Heaven forbid!”)
– I love the absolutely synthetic nature of the question Lisa is forced to read (“Mr. Burns: your campaign seems to have the momentum of a runaway freight train. Why are you so popular?”) and the great deadpan read Yeardley Smith gives it.
– A fantastic, daring joke of Bart saying grace (“Dear God: We paid for all this stuff ourselves, so thanks for nothing.”) I also love Mr. Burns’s save (“Only an innocent child could get away with such blasphemy. God bless them all!”)
– There’s so much bizarre animation associated with Burns eating the fish, be it his disturbed, disgusted look chewing and spitting, the cameramen and political team looking shocked (the dropped jaw guy is an all-timer drawing), and the great slow-mo bit where the media circus has their fill of the spitted up fish and leaves (“Ruined before it hit the ground.”)
– “Ironic, isn’t it, Smithers? This anonymous clan of slack-jawed troglodytes has cost me the election, and yet if I were to have them killed, I would be the one to go to jail. That’s democracy for you.” “You are noble and poetic in defeat, sir.” …huh, I guess Smithers had lines in this episode after all. My mistake.

(originally aired October 25, 1990)
While I was still sitting through the show’s later seasons, what always killed me most was the decline in quality of the Treehouse of Horror specials. They were always a season highlight: for one special episode a year, the Simpsons universe’s rules and regulations would be thrown out the window, and the family be dropped into a spooky situation or classic horror parody to fend for themselves. The series would riff on scary story conventions, but also had the potential of being genuinely creepy and unsettling themselves. I love the idea for many reasons, a main one being these specials bring the Simpsons back to their cartoon roots: having characters so established that they can be put into any situation, and the entertainment is seeing how they react. As we love seeing Daffy Duck attempt to be Robin Hood, we love to see the Simpsons fend off a zombie apocalypse. They used to be some of the greatest episodes of any given season, but when it got to the point where they would be parodying Mr. & Mrs. Smith and Transformers, two things not even remotely Halloween-y, it got pretty depressing. These segments must be hard to write, no doubt, but it was always worth it.

This very first Treehouse of Horror starts with a brief disclaimer from Marge on the show’s slightly more mature content, which she claims to have totally washed her hands of. Not only is it a great mimicry of the opening of the original Frankenstein, it refers directly to the audience who might not be prepared for a silly primetime cartoon delving into serious horror parodies. We then get into the show proper, featuring Bart and Lisa in their treehouse telling scary stories (the only Treehouse of Horror to actually use the treehouse). First up is “Bad Dream House,” where the Simpson family move into a suspiciously cheap mansion. Come to find its price point is due to it being built on an Indian burial ground, so they must endure bleeding walls, floating objects, and a brief possession or two. Homer is unmoved in his assertion that these minor quibbles are worth the great deal, but finding the basement cemetery is the last straw. In one of my favorite scenes in the entire series, he angrily calls the realtor to yell at him about it, but then his rage subsides and he retorts, “Well that’s not my recollection!” He hangs up and says to the family, “He said he mentioned it five or six times.” The segment ends with a nice subversion where the house reveals its consciousness to the family, but chooses to implode upon itself rather than live with them. The Simpsons were the unwelcome guests; Lisa surmises, “It chose to destroy itself rather than live with us. One can’t help but feel a little rejected.”

The second segment has our family abducted by Rigelians Kang and Kodos. Before they were annual regulars to the show with normally nefarious purposes, they quite cordially offer the Simpsons a fantastic banquet, but Lisa remains suspicious of their true intentions. It’s a great “To Serve Man” riff when Lisa reveals the “How to Cook Humans” cookbook, but a back and forth swiping of dust between her and Kang reveals “How to Cook For Humans,” “How to Cook Forty Humans” and finally “How to Cook For Forty Humans,” confirming them to be benevolent all along. It’s one of those hilarious-in-hindsight bait-and-switches: why were the aliens so suspicious sounding to begin with? So impressed by how much weight they’d gained and the chef droolingly telling Homer his wife is “quite a dish,” none of it makes any sense, but that’s why it’s so funny. Of course Kang and Kodos would become firm members of the Simpsons canon, for good reason: their grotesque alien design like something out of a classic comic book, with tentacle appendages and giant heads encased in helmets, booming, self-competent voices, and their braying evil laughter. Perhaps they were kindly all along until meeting the Simpsons, and a simple misunderstanding turned them to want to enslave the human race. Nice going, Lisa.

The final segment is an odd one: a retelling of Edgar Allen Poe’s classic poem, “The Raven,” featuring Homer as the visualized narrator (with James Earl Jones actually narrating), and Bart as the eponymous raven. What seems like a tedious exercise on paper is actually quite riveting, from the rousing score and the wonderfully choreography of the sequence. David Silverman does an amazing job (as usual) spicing up the segment, visualizing ghostly hands caressing Homer’s face, odd sweeping scenes of a ponderous nature, and quick cuts to rise the tension of Homer finally snapping and yelling at the raven. Dan Castellaneta also deserves credit for his performance, keeping the intensity and passion of the read, but always remaining true to Homer. The seriousness of the sequence eventually gives way to a brief silly ending where Homer frantically tries to catch the bird, but it becomes his own undoing as it comes to a close. I always praise Silverman for his direction, so I apologize for overlooking the other great Simpsons directors. Wes Archer and Rich Moore, who did the other two segments, are fantastic in their own right, doing fine work for this series, as well as many others.

I like how we end with Bart mentioning how the poem wasn’t scary, and Lisa justifying that since it was written over a hundred years ago, maybe people were easier to scare. It really reflects with these Halloween specials too; the bit with the family trying to kill each other in the first segment was a bit rough, but compared to how much darker and bloodier these shows would become, this truly is tame by today’s standards, as Bart puts it. Later, we would delve further into the macabre greatness that these specials could be, but this is a grand first outing signaling things to come. Spoooooky things.

Tidbits and Quotes
– A long-deserted Halloween tradition we first see here are the scary tombstone names. They’d get funnier as years went on, until the writers got sick of writing them. I do like the one for “Casper the Friendly Boy” though.
– I like how James Earl Jones is in all three segments, as if he’s the weaving thread for the three stories. It’s also cool that his roles increase in size, from one line as the mover in the first one, Serak the Preparer, a minor role in the second, and the main event as the narrator in the third.
– I remember loving the vortex gag as a kid. For some reason, I thought I remembered Homer thinking it was some kind of new-age dishwasher. Guess I imagined it.
– Kinda subtle bit with Marge telling the kids to get their coats, and they just float onto them.
– The house seducing the family to kill each other is pretty grim. Perhaps the disclaimer really was necessary. And why the hell would Marge need THAT big of a knife to spread mayonnaise on her sandwich?
– I love how the house physically emotes by changing in color, light and shape with its dialogue. Kudos to Wes Archer for that. See? I can compliment other directors.
– I know the series has had two different gags with Homer pouring the entire can of gasoline onto the grill before turning it on. This one has a mini-inferno go off, but I know another episode does the same thing but the grill turns on normally. I forget which one it is though… guess I’ll find out soon enough.
– Brilliant glossing over of the language barrier between humans and aliens by Kang (“I am actually speaking Rigelian; by an astonishing coincidence, both of our languages are exactly the same.”)
– I love the sequence where the family derides Kang and Kodos’ crowning achievement that is Pong. The aliens get so defensive, while even Marge finds it hard to sound genuine in her patronizing.
– Homer kind of mirrors the supposed worrywart audience, while Marge (the writers) dismiss the episode as “just children’s stories.” Then he’s frightened by a bird out the window. Classic.

(originally aired October 18, 1990)
Episodes like these are the reason I’m doing this re-watch. There are plenty of classic shows that I vaguely remember parts of, but definitely warrant a refresher. Last season, we got a good sense of Homer as a family man, but here we get a look at Homer the man, and his feelings concerning his job and his station in life. For a man of 36 (!), baldness is a mighty sting for Homer, but he is in shock of a new “miracle breakthrough” being advertised on TV: a hair-growth product called Dimoxinil. Unfortunately, it carries a heavy price tag of a thousand bucks. However, figuring how to slip it under the radar of the power plant’s health insurance plan, he gets himself a kit, and after one day of caressing and primping his scalp, he awakens with a full head of bushy, unkempt hair. It’s Homer’s unabashed, child-like enthusiasm that really make you completely invested in his character. He runs out of the house and throughout the town bidding one and all a good morning, Jimmy Stewart-style. He even encounters a fellow newly saved soul doing the very same thing: one look at each others’ new hair growth leads them to cry out “Dimoxinil!” and they have a warm embrace.

This episode also features the first look at the dynamic between Mr. Burns and Smithers. Burns may be a cruel, heartless bureaucrat, but he’s also easily dissuaded. I wouldn’t say naive, but at times, he sees what he wants to see, projecting his own views on others even if they’re not there. In this case, Burns lays down an arbitrary promotion to Homer, purely based on his new luscious locks. Later in a staff meeting, he calls upon Homer for his ideas, and out of Homer’s nervous ramblings about tartar sauce portions, he surmises that “a happy worker is a busy worker” and that keeping the mindless drones well fed will make them more productive. In one of the best Burns lines ever, he concludes with a dark undertone, “Let the fools have their tar-tar sauce.” Smithers is, as we’ve seen, Burns’s doting boot-licker, but we start getting hints of his deeper affections to his boss as he becomes frustrated at Burns’s growing liking toward Homer. He may be demeaned and under-appreciated in his line of work, but it’s where he belongs. It’s who he is.

With his new job title, Homer finds himself an assistant, the sage-like Karl, voiced by a gravely Harvey Fierstein. Karl’s character may be somewhat shallow, as his only purpose in life seems to be pep-talking middle-aged men less qualified than him, but he works because his actions and affections toward Homer are so sincere. Some of his lines are funny just by the level of intensity Fierstein brings to them. Smithers uncovers Homer’s Dimoxinil purchase under the plant’s insurance (Homer’s brilliant cover for the expense was “to keep brain from freezing”), but Karl ends up taking the fall. When Smithers asks him what he cares if Homer is bald, he responds, “My reasons… are my own.” It may be the best line in the whole episode. Karl is such an enigmatic character, a Magical Negro-type, except of questionable sexuality. When he returns to help a newly bald Homer one last time, he attempts to instill confidence back in Homer, claiming “my mother told me never to kiss a fool!” right before laying a big fat kiss onto a stunned Homer. That may be the first gay kiss ever seen in animation during primetime (outside a crossdressing Bugs smooching Elmer Fudd, of course). It’s a real nice, ballsy moment, wonderfully concluded with the quick pat on the ass Karl gives Homer on his way out.

In typical Simpsons fashion, we follow an emotional build-up with a backhanded climax. Even with his bravado restored, and with Karl’s flashcards that have some actually well-thought out and valid proposals for the plant, no one will give Homer the time of day due to his newly regained baldness. Burns is incised, but in a great, true-to-character moment, his rage is softened by his connection to Homer’s plight of male-pattern baldness, thus he gives him his old job back. It’s a great, rollicking road right back where we started, ending with a Homer and Marge moment that would be cliche and corny in any other show, but thanks to the strength of the characters and the performances, feels like such a sweet and earned end to a great episode.

Tidbits and Quotes
– The Dimoxinil commercial is a quick, great parody of these kind of miracle remedy commercials, with the balding man walking on the beach with a pensive look on his face. “Today, I’m gonna do it.”
– I love the Dimoxinil salesman’s alternate option for Homer: Hair in a Drum (“I must assure you that any hair growth you experience while using it will be purely coincidental.”)
– We’ve seen Lenny and Carl, Homer’s work buddies, in the first season, but here’s where they first start to take shape and resemble their modern-day selves. Lenny’s defense of Homer using the plant’s insurance plan is pretty great (“Why should you get nothing, while some guy who loses a finger hits the jackpot?”) Homer muses that $1000 is a lot to bilk the company out of, to which Lenny scoffs that Burns won’t be able to afford another ivory back-scratcher. This leads to a great callback when Smithers alerts Burns to the purchase, to which Burns angrily murmurs about wanting to have purchased said item.
– Homer’s ever-changing hairstyles throughout the episode are really fun; the progression of 80s and 90s hairdos is like a timeline through the show, but it’s extra funny since it feels like Homer is trying out all the different styles he missed out on during his life of baldness.
– I love the executive washroom juxtaposed with the shitty, uncleaned normal bathroom, a great parallel between the two classes.
– There’s a great transition from the tiled floor of the washroom panning and dissolving to the paneled windows outside the plant, building Smithers’s frustration and finding Homer’s secret. Between stuff like this and what we saw last episode, I’d forgotten how creatively directed this show used to be. In more recent years, we’d only get interesting stuff like this if the show was doing a direct parody of something, in which case it would just be straight mimicry of the source material.
– So many great Karl lines… but aside from “my reasons are my own,” I love his speech to Homer on why he took the fall (“Have I done something extraordinary here today? No. I did what I was born to do, what any good soldier would have done if a live grenade threatened his commander: I threw myself upon it, and bore its terrible brunt!”) Such intensity.
– Great stuff with Homer’s rage against Bart after spilling his Dimoxinil: his strangling is cut short by Bart telling his father he loves him (“Dirty trick.”) Collecting himself, Homer tells his son three things he hopes will harm him more than his hands around his throat (“You’ve ruined your father, you’ve crippled your family, and baldness is hereditary!”) Following this is a truly high moment for Homer as he kneels over on the floor, trying to sop up the spilled formula in his hair, sobbing uncontrollably (Lisa comments, “Dad is taking this in a less than heroic fashion.”)