(no subject)

Sometimes I really love The Simpsons.

Context is this: Marge is fantasizing about Burly, a model on the wrapping for paper towels, and as retributuion, Homer's looking around for his own spokes model.

Burly: Fantasize, Marge. Fantasize about Burly. [does a few
pelvic thrusts]
Homer: Hey, you're looking at that spokesjack. Well, I can
fantasize, too. [looks at some of the other groceries]
Ooh, Mama Celeste. [lustful growl]
Mama: [brandishing a pizza cutter] You touch-a me, and I cut
you.
Homer: [casts his gaze on a bottle of Newman's Own dressing]
Hmm ...
[Paul] Newman: Homer, I'll tell you what I told Redford: It ain't gonna
happen.


♥