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The-simpsons

Lisa: Come on, Dad. You can make it!
Grampa: Oh, of course he'll make it, it's TV.

Grampa: Why are you people avoiding me? Does my withered face remind you of the grim specter of Death?
Homer: Yes, but there's more. Dad, I love you, but...you're a weird, sore-headed old crank and nobody likes you!

Do we sell... French... fries?

Mr. Peterson, you can take this job and...fill it! And one more thing...I never once washed my hands. That's your policy, not mine.

Lisa: It's awful being a kid. No one listens to you.
Grampa: It's rotten being old. No one listens to you.
Homer: I'm a white male, age 18 to 49. Everyone listens to me, no matter how dumb my suggestions are!

Looking at that tired old freak has made me realize I'm no spring chicken myself. I can feel death's clammy hand on my shoulder. Wait, that's my hand.

Grampa: I leave these: a box of mint-condition 1918 liberty-head silver dollars. You see, back in those days, rich men would ride around in Zeppelins, dropping coins on people, and one day I seen J. D. Rockefeller flying by. So I run out of the house with a big washtub and--Where are you going?
Homer: Dad, we'd love to stay here and listen to your amusing antidote, but we have to take these coins to the mall and spend 'em!

Grampa: And to my son Homer--
Homer: Woo-hoo!
Grampa: --and his entire family--
Homer: D'oh!

I shouldn't be listening to complaints, I should be making them with you guys! The good Lord lets us grow old for a reason; to gain the wisdom to find fault with everything He's made.

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