The Simpsons

Homerpalooza

You know, most of my life...

...I've had to live with the shame of being a screwup.

But now, as I stand here with the award for the district's safest bus driver...

...well, it's like a dream come true.

Otto. Wake up.

So who's good at keeping secrets?

"Dear parents, due to yesterday's unscheduled field trip...

...to the auto-wrecking yard...

...the school bus will be out of commission for two weeks.

By reading this letter out loud...

...you have waived any legal responsibility on our part...

...in perpetuity throughout the universe."

Well, we'll have to organize a car pool.

Hey, every day will be like a road trip.

With your dad. To school.

So how about those rainbow suspenders, huh?

Dad.

- Pretty cool way to keep your pants up. - Dad.

I see these kids now with "jive" printed on their shirts.

Now, I can teach you how you're supposed to say "jive."

Dad, please just drive the car, Dad.

I'm watching the road, sweetie. You jive turkey.

See? You gotta sass it.

Quit jiving me, turkey. You gotta sass it.

A turkey is a bad person.

KFSL, Fossil 103.

Classic hits from Abba to Zeppelin, Led.

Tell him.

Mr. Simpson, sir?

Can you please change the radio station?

But this is Grand Funk Railroad.

You guys back there know Grand Funk, right?

Nobody knows the band Grand Funk?

The wild, shirtless lyrics of Mark Farner?

The bong-rattling bass of Mel Schacher?

The competent drum work of Don Brewer?

Oh, man.

For more information on Grand Funk, consult your school library.

Now, when I listen to a really good song...

...I start nodding my head like I'm saying "yes" to every beat.

Yes, yes, yes. This rocks.

And then sometimes I switch it up like, "No, no, no. Don't stop a-rocking."

Dad, please. You're embarrassing us.

No, I'm not.

I'm teaching you about rock music.

Now, Grand Funk Railroad paved the way for Jefferson Airplane...

...which cleared the way for Jefferson Starship.

The stage was now set for the Alan Parsons Project...

...which I believe was a hovercraft.

Dad! No one cares about your stupid dinosaur bands.

You have the worst, lamest taste in music ever.

I'm just trying to party with you guys.

Homer, first of all, it's "par-tay."

And second, we wouldn't par-tay with you...

...if you were the last dad on earth.

Hi there. It's been a while since I set foot in Good Vibrations Music.

Where can I find the latest releases by Bread?

- Oldies. - Oldies?

But you've got all the top bands in here.

Styx? I just heard them on the King Biscuit Flower Hour.

Now, here are some of your no-name bands.

"Sonic Youth."

"Nine Inch Nails."

- "Hullabalooza"? - Hullabalooza is a music festival.

The greatest music festival of all time?

There can only be one truly great music festival a lifetime...

...and it's the US Festival.

- The what festival? - The US festival.

It was sponsored by that guy from Apple Computers?

What computers?

Why do you need new bands?

Everyone knows rock attained perfection in 1974.

It's a scientific fact.

Quadraphonic sound, a waterbed and now a strobe light.

Gentlemen, say hello to the Second-Base mobile.

Wicked.

Back then, we didn't care what anyone thought.

And the chicks found that irresistible.

I think you're cool, Homer Simpson.

Sandra, that was mean.

But most of all, I remember the music.

What the hell are you two doing?

It's called rocking out.

You wouldn't understand, Dad.

- You're not with it. - I used to be with it.

But then they changed what it was.

Now, what I'm with isn't it...

...and what's it seems weird and scary to me.

It'll happen to you.

No way, man. We're gonna keep on rocking forever.

Forever. Forever.

Forever. Forever. Forever.

What's wrong, Homie?

I went to the record store today...

...and they were playing music I never heard of.

It was like the store had gone crazy.

Record stores have always seemed crazy to me, but it doesn't upset me.

Music is none of my business.

That's fine for you, Marge.

But I used to rock 'n' roll all night and party every day.

Then it was every other day.

Now I'm lucky if I can find half an hour a week in which to get funky.

I've gotta get out of this rut and back into the groove.

Well, good. Try to include Bart and Lisa.

Dear Lord, if you keep Homer from embarrassing us today...

...we promise to build several churches in your honor.

Bart, no.

Hey, wait. I'm okay today. My mom bought me deodorant.

Dad, you forgot to pick up Milhouse.

I did? I must be getting forgetful in my old age.

Open the glove compartment and fetch me my brain medicine.

What are you talking about?

Well, what have we here?

Looks like your uncool dad scored tickets to Hullabalooza.

- Bart, these look real. - Check the authenticator spot.

This is an authentic Hullabalooza ticket.

For authentic refreshment, eat Clark bars.

And for totally outrageous class rings, it's Jostens. Go Jostens.

You're not going to school today.

Today, your classroom will be the Capitol City Amphitheater.

Your teacher: Four dozen rock bands.

So get ready for some well-supervised craziness...

...while you rock out with your father.

Wow, it's like Woodstock...

...only with advertisements everywhere and tons of security guards.

People, have your tickets out. Throw your cameras out.

Surrender all identification.

My homemade Kahlua.

Generation X may be shallow...

...but at least they have tolerance and respect for all people.

Hey, a freak show.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

And now, the band you've all been waiting for:

Cypress Hill.

Before we start, we have a lost child here.

If she's not claimed in an hour...

...she'll become property of Blockbuster Entertainment.

- What is that smell? - It smells like Otto's jacket.

- Dude, karma. - What?

Karma, karma.

Oh, I get it.

Dad, you cannot wear that. That's a Rastafarian hat.

Hey, I've been safari-ing since before you were born.

Wearing a Jamaican hat makes a statement...

...about your connection to reggae music.

Well, excuse me.

You know what, Dad? Maybe we'll go exploring on our own for a while.

Well, Homer, this is it. Time to get back with the people.

The young people.

All right. Yeah.

Cool concert, am I right?

- Yeah, nice try, narc. - Where's the narc?

- Who? - That fat Jamaican guy.

What'd I say? What's going on?

Hey, we're just trying to have a good time, narc.

Why do you wanna destroy us?

Don't commit your hate crimes here. Hate crime!

Okay, I'm heading out now.

More butt support. More butt support.

It may be bleak, but this music is really getting to the crowd.

Making teenagers depressed is like shooting fish in a barrel.