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(clears throat) Yes, uh, the students of Springfield Elementary have each created an alternative energy vehicle. One of which will ensure the future of humanity as determined by a short race across the parking lot. (mumbles): Yeah, yeah. And now, uh, what is your car powered by, uh, fat little boy?

Hydrogen-powered fuel cells.

Ah, hydrogen-- yeah, yes, wonderful.

My car is powered by the wind! Oh, how it blows.

Mine is potato-powered.

I keep tell you I'm not a potato.

Be quiet, hash browns!

Lisa: Dad, I'm so excited! I think-- Hey, please don't stand so close. In the world of solar power, shadows are the arch-enemy. I think I might win.

Homer: I believe in you and that's a given. But I don't know. That kid's car has flames painted on the side of it. Why would he do it if it wasn't fast?

Children, start your engines!

Lisa: They're not engines! That's the whole point of this thing!

Yeah... just go.

(crowd cheering)

That never works.

Lisa: Yahoo! I'm sun-made racin'!

Duff Beer, the only way to get fathers through kids' events.

Lisa: Huh? What? No! That shouldn't happen! I should have stored energy!

You skimped on the cadmium in your batteries, just like a girl. Stick to the liberal arts, honey.

Uh, have fun going to Oberlin! (laughs)

Maybe you can transfer after a couple years... to Bates! (laughing)

Enjoy Maine in the winter!

Hope you like Division III basketball!

(boys laughing)

Lisa: (crying)

Now, don't you worry, kid. They also laughed at Amelia Vanderbuckle.

Lisa: (sniffling) Amelia Vanderbuckle? Who's she?

Ah, she was Springfield's original lady inventor.

Lisa: Ah...! Why have I never heard of her?

Well, totally nuts. She made a mess of everything.

Lisa: Oh!

Easy, girly, don't go Vanderbuckle on us.

(grunting)

Lisa: "Amelia Vanderbuckle lived in Springfield in the 1800s. She was the middle child of a family of 17. 12 of whom died from exposure to drafty windows. Her father worked as a human canary in the poison mines."

Lisa: "Amelia was the first female graduate of Springfield Tech."

Bart: Do you have to read out loud? I'm trying to pour ants in this doll.

Lisa: (louder) "Among other things, she was the proud inventor of the steam-powered barber chair."

(jaunty, tinny piano music playing)

(both scream)

Bart: I want one!

Lisa: "A medical board diagnosed Amelia with acute feminine overreachism and she was-- (gasps) She was committed to the Springfield Home for the Criminally Different."

Bart: Whoa, the banana cabana?

Lisa: "But Amelia never gave up, continuing to work as an inventor within the confines of the asylum."

Bart: Ay, carumba!

Lisa: Bart, if we find those inventions, we can prove that Amelia was scientifically significant.

Bart: Pass.

Lisa: Listen to me. I need to prove this woman was not a lunatic so people will not giggle when they hear the words "woman scientist."

Grandpa: (chuckles) "Woman scientist." What's next-- boy cigarette girl?

(Grampa laughs in distance)

Lisa: Let me ask again. Will you help me break into an abandoned insane asylum?

(wind gusting, whistling)

Bart: Abandoned asylum, where have you been all my life?

Lisa: How do we get in?

Bart: Well, I'd say the best bet is the sewer pipe.

Lisa: Oh, gee. (echoing): Oh, come on, Bart.

Bart: Or this door.

Lisa: Bart!

(laughs)

(moaning nearby)

The ghosts of a thousand lunatics are making me hot.

Yeah, what doesn't make you hot?

Alcoholic stepfathers.

Bart: (goofy grunting and snorting)

Lisa: Ew! Stop that! You don't know who had that in their mouth.

Bart: Sure I do-- some luno! Mmm, that's good crazy. Ew.

Lisa: "Vanderbean, Vanderbottom, Vanderbozo--" ah, here we go-- "Vanderbuckle! Vanderbuckle, Alfred; Vanderbuckle, Alice; Vanderbuckle, Allspice; Vanderbuckle, Amelia"!

Lisa: A wax cylinder! Amelia recorded her voice!

Bart: (nonchalant) Mm.

Amelia: Though I have been locked up in this sanitarium for lo, these many years, I have completed an invention that will change the world!

Lisa: Bart! Did you hear that?

Bart: (imitating Dracula): Good evening.

Amelia: Because I am not taken seriously due to my gender, a friendly guard has hidden my invention until a future time, when some liberated young woman has the permission of her husband to look for it.

Bart: There's a whole closet of these things! How many magicians do they have in this place?

Amelia: Find my journal, and it will lead you to my greatest invention! P.S. Nikola Tesla might have told you he broke up with me, but I broke up with him.

Lisa: Aah! We've got to find that journal.

Bart: Ooh!

Bart: (reads) "Dear Diary, today I watched a neighbor's house burn down. This will teach their dog to laugh at me."

Bart: Whoa! Look at me! I'm enjoying reading!

Bart: Guys, did you ever read something and think it was written just for you? Behold... the diary of Nathan Little!

"I pushed a vagabond under a trolley."

What's a trolley?

Bart: Old-timey subway.

What's a vagabond?

Bart: Homeless guy.

(sobbing, wailing)

What's a homeless guy?

Chief Wiggum: Ralphie! Come on, we got daddy-son tap class! Tap class! Hey, where is that kid? We got a recital next week and his timestep is terrible, let alone flair. Tap class! Tuh... tap class?

(boys scream)

Chief Wiggum: Ralphie, what is going on here?

Bart made us read pages from a scary diary. I was so a-scared, sour juice came out my front tail.

Chief Wiggum: Bart wrote this? This is bad. Ooh, really bad. I don't think we're gonna make it to... tap class.

(knocking on door)

Marge: Chief Wiggum?

Chief Wiggum: Your son is dead... (loud gasp) ...inside.

(quieter gasp)

Marge: That's bad, too.

Chief Wiggum: Yeah, these are pages from your son's diary. I'm afraid they very clearly show him to be... a sociopath.

Marge: Hm. Well, I've never seen Bart write in cursive, so I'm a little proud of that, but this is the worst thing that's ever happened to this family.

Chief Wiggum: I-I'm sorry, Marge. And... shuffle off, shuffle off, shuffle off.

(Homer humming cheerfully)

Marge: Homie, I've learned something terrible about Bart. You may want to have a drink.

Homer: Way ahead of ya.

Marge: Chief Wiggum found these pages from our son's diary!

Homer: Oh, I've had a long day.

Marge: Bart might be a sociopath.

Homer: Socio-what?

Marge: (groans) "Someone who can't feel empathy or guilt. They do terrible things and don't care who it hurts."

(doorbell chiming repeatedly)

Homer: Don't answer that! It could be Bart!

Marge: Bart has a key.

Homer: What?! Who gave him a key!

Milhouse: Hey, Mrs. Simpson. Can Bart come over and see my grandfather's collection of Japanese swords and throwing daggers?

Marge: Aah! Why don't you play with Lisa instead, hmm?

(grunts)

Milhouse: Konnichi-whaaa...?!

Lisa: Hey, Milhouse.

Milhouse: Wow, this is a surprise. I'm usually sweating when we talk, but not this time.

Lisa: It's amazing how you can charm and disgust me at the same time.

Milhouse: That's just what happens when I'm with the prettiest girl in town.

Lisa: Aw...

Milhouse: (cackles, snorts)

Lisa: Ew.

Lisa: Amelia's journal tells us that her invention is buried in the basement of the Springfield Suffragette Society.

Milhouse: (sighs): Ah... anyone ever tell you you're beautiful when you're sleuthing?

Lisa: Milhouse, did the Hardy Boys ever hit on Nancy Drew?

Milhouse: Frank did, but Joe... let's just say there's a mystery about him.

Lisa: The Suffragette Society was right here.

Lisa: Oh... here?

Hey, sweetie, you looking for your mom? I'll find her-- just, uh, give me her cup size.

Lisa: Actually, we're here because your basement is home to a landmark of feminist history. Do you mind if we poke around?

The basement, eh? Yeah, that's where we wash the ketchup off the old onion rings. So no.

These guys want a children's menu?

Nah, they're just leavin'. Seriously, kids, I got to switch ten TV's over to the fourth round of the NBA draft, so get lost. All right, Denver Nuggets on the clock, people!

Marge: Okay, I found a test online that will tell us, once and for all, whether Bart is a... you know.

Homer: Wait a minute! We can't just give Bart something labeled "Sociopath Test"! He might look it up and set us on fire with his mind!

Marge: You're right! We need Bart to think the test is for something else.

Homer: Finally! A use for the label maker!

Bart: One of you betrayed me, and snitches lose their stitches. (high-pitched): Sit on my banana! (normal voice): Why, you little...! (grunting)

Homer: Where does he get this stuff? Hey, son, your mom and I just found this quiz you'd really love to take. "Are You a Jet Ski Dude or a Motocross Maestro?"

Marge: Remember to answer the questions honestly. We want to know if you meet the clinical definition of "jet ski dude."

Bart: "I enjoy manipulating other people." "I believe I'm being followed." "Sometimes I feel as if I must injure myself or someone else." Agree, agree, agree.

Bart: Hmm. "Sociopath." What's that? Ay, carumba! That's what they think I am? Fine! I'll pretend to be the biggest sociopath in the world! And I only need to change three answers.


Marge: Is he nuts?

Homer: I don't know.

Marge: What do you think?

Homer: I mean, he looks nuts, that's for sure.

Bart: (clears throat) So, here's your test. Call me crazy, but I enjoyed it.

(Bart whistling "Pop Goes the Weasel")

Homer: Well, the good news is that Bart just got his first 100% ever on a test.

Marge: Oh, my God. What do we do?

Homer: Whatever Bart wants.

Bart: (snickers)

♪ Crazy ♪ ♪ But that's how it goes ♪ ♪ Millions of people ♪ ♪ Living as foes ♪ ♪ Maybe ♪ ♪ It's not too late ♪

(tires screeching)

♪ To learn how to love ♪ ♪ And forget how to hate ♪ ♪ Mental wounds not healing ♪ ♪ Life's a bitter shame ♪ ♪ I'm going off the rails ♪ ♪ On a crazy train ♪ ♪ I'm going off the rails on a crazy train! ♪

Lisa: Thanks.

(male voice, Scottish accent): My pleasure.

Willie: Anything to take down Knockers. I've always hated them, because they wouldn't open up at 4:00 a.m. to show the World Caber Tossing Championships.

Lisa: Okay, Willie, you can only use the jackhammer when there's lots of noise upstairs.

Willie: No worries. It is Monday Night Football, by which I mean American football, by which I mean no football at all!

(muffled cheering and applause)

(jackhammering)

Lisa: (gasps) There's the box!

(muffled cheering and applause)

Milhouse: Ow! Medium spicy!

Willie: Ach! We've hit the hot sauce supply line! I'll have to neutralize it with some signature blue cheese!

Milhouse: Ah...!

Bart: Look at me! I'm a sociopath!

Homer: Marge, it's time we did something.

Marge: We can take him swimming. That makes him sleepy.

Homer: Not good enough. We have to call the number at the bottom of the test.

Marge: What number?

Homer: Right there.

Marge: "New Beginnings"? We're gonna trust our son to an 800 number?

Homer: It's 888. Marge, this is for his own good. He failed an online test. How much more proof do you need?

Bart: Cue-abunga!

(bird squawks, Bart laughs)

Marge & Homer: Surprise! Surprise!

Bart: Whoa, cool! But wait a minute, my birthday's not for another two months.

Homer: We know! But we wanted to have your party now! They were having a sale on piñatas and... one thing led to another so we, you know, had a thing, mumble, mumble, mumble... mumble...

Bart: Well, where are my friends?

Homer: Well, I was gonna mail out invites, but I was out of stamps and the post office line was long, (mumbling): and I didn't know where all the little...

Bart: Well, more cake for me.

Marge: No, no, no, no. Do the Moon Bounce first.

Homer: Yes! The Moon Bounce! Don't want you throwing up this delicious cake.

(clunking)

Bart:( grunting, laughing) (laughing) Huh. Eh. (laughing)

(engine revs, tires squeal)

Bart: Whoa!

(Bart laughing)

Bart: Wait a minute. What is this? Is it an asylum?

No, it's a pizza parlor.

Bart: Please tell me, Dad, is it really a pizza parlor?

Homer: No, son-- the pizza parlor is where your mom and I are going afterwards. Now, you're gonna be fine. I wouldn't be surprised if you were the least messed-up kid in the whole joint. We love you!

(doors squeak and clang)

Marge: Wait, wait, wait! I didn't even get to say good-bye.

Bart: Good-bye! I'll never forgive you!

Homer: There. You happy?

Bart: Let me out! I was just playing a joke! A cruel joke on the people that love me! That I don't regret! That doesn't make me a sociopath!

(door creaks open)

Woman: Children, form a line in order of medication from Adderall to Zoloft. You have been brought here for a purpose. You are fearless, and no one can stop you. Which means you'll be of great use...

To the U.S. military. I expected more of a reaction. I waited outside the door and everything.

They don't react. That's what we want.

Right. We'll be using you in the ultimate video game to test these U.S. Air Force drone simulators. Man, that is a tough crowd.

Homer: Oh!

Lisa: Mom, Dad, I've discovered the most amazing thing! I can't wait... Um, where's Bart?

Marge: He's safe.

Homer: And more importantly, we're safe.

Marge: (sobs) I miss him so much.

(panting)

Lisa: Oh. Can I call him?

Homer: You can call his guard, Tico. He picks up sometimes.

Lisa: I see. Okay, I'll do that.

Marge: Homie, where did we go wrong?

Homer: I don't know, sweetie. I don't know. We did everything we could for him during the commercials.

And we're live as Lisa Simpson prepares to prove that Springfield embarrassment Amelia Vanderbuckle deserves to be in the female scientific pantheon, along with Marie Curie and, uh, you know, uh, um, Velma from Scooby-Doo.

Lisa: Thank you all for coming out to support a woman's place in history!

That's what this is?

I thought it was a Green Bay Packers rally. All right, you know what, this ain't coming off.

Lisa: Behold, the masterpiece of Amelia Vanderbuckle.

(crowd murmurs)

A loom?!

That isn't science. That's home economics. Everyone, storm the stage!

(crowd clamoring)

Lisa: Not so fast! This is no ordinary loom!

Even an extraordinary loom is the most boring thing I could think of.

Lisa: This is much, much more than just a loom.

(clacking)

(squeaking, clicking; Lisa grunts)

(whirring, clanking)

(puffing)

(crowd gasping in wonder)

It's alive!

And polite!

Lisa: "Operand"? Looks like it wants us to give it a math problem.

(grunting)

(whirring, thudding)

Oh, my God. Oh, God! It's the first computational device! People, people, don't you see? The board acts like punch cards and the loom like a computer, with the Charles Babbage and the John Von Neumann... Let's have the square root of nine cheers for Lisa!

(whirring, clanking)

All: Lisa! Lisa! Lisa!

Marge: You see that, Bart? You see what your sister did?

Bart: Yeah, yeah, great. Listen, I'm in a simulator, so I can't really talk. And you know I'm a sociopath, so I'm just going through the motions here. I love you. I was just saying that to myself.

(beep)

Bart: Kaboom! Blam-blam-blam! Have a smart bomb, stupid. (imitates explosions) Nice not knowin' ya.

Male electronic voice: All targets destroyed. Simulation complete.

You are impressive. Even though I'm the only real person in the world, and, therefore, I created you in my imagination.

Children, your empty souls and flying fingers are very impressive, and I can tell you now that was no simulation.

Bart: You mean we were blowing up real stuff?

That's right-- convoys, terrorist training camps, suspicious weddings, Kabul Starbucks.

Cool!

Awesome.

I knew it!

Bart: (voice breaking): No, I thought it was a video game. I don't want to hurt real people. Oh, I want to go home. Please?

How disappointing. Does anyone else share the human boy's feelings?

Son, the truth is the simulators we told you weren't simulators were simulators.

(all gasping)

Now, I'm sorry, Bart, but you are a healthy, normal boy. We're sending you home.

Bart: Really? Oh, wow. Dudes, it's been real. Although, actually, it was all a fake.

I'll never forget you, Bart Simpson. 742 Evergreen Terrace. Dog door in the back that has no lock.

(knocking on door)

Marge: My little guy is back!

Bart: And I'm not bad! I just made bad decisions.

Homer: (crying) It's okay, boy. You started out life as a bad decision. The best bad decision I ever made.

(all crying)

Lisa: (crying) And I restored the reputation of a scientist from 100 years ago.

Grandpa: (crying) And Maggie tried strawberries for the first time.

Marge: What a day! What a day!

(sucking pacifier)

Lisa: Okay, Lisa, go ahead and say it. Don't be ashamed. I'm immortal! (echoing): ...immortal! Hey, Madam Docent, want to come see?

Docent: Oh, I'd love to, but there's a huge crowd here at the Science of Thor exhibit.

Lisa: Hey, tour! Want to see a great invention and its plaque?

We're just passing through to the cafe. Double-time, tour.

Lisa: How 'bout you, sir?

Je Ne parle pas l'Anglais.

Lisa: Pas de problème. Je parle français!

Uh, leave me alone, little girl!

Homer: Okay, pal, if you are indeed a personal computer... Oh, baby. Spin that yarn. Now, that is a loom with a view.

Marge: Homie! Come help me carry the groceries!

Homer: (shouts) Yeah! Clear history, clear history. Just working on your anniversary present. I know this looks like nothing, but it's actually bad.

♪ ♪

Shh!

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