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Homer: Ooh, oatmeal, what a delightful treat! Aw, there's a bug in it.
Marge: No there isn't.
Homer: Trust me.
(starts eating bacon)
Bart: Dad, there's a bug on that.
Homer: Meh.

This is Papa Bear. Put out an APB for a male suspect, driving of some sort, heading in the direction know, that place that sells chili. Suspect is hatless. Repeat, hatless.

Chief Wiggum

Cops: In Springfield Lyrics:
Bad cops, bad cops.
Bad cops, bad cops.
Bad cops, bad cops.
Bad cops, bad cops.
Springfield cops are on the take,
But what do you expect for the money we make?
Whether in a car or on a horse,
We don't mind using excessive force.
Bad cops, bad cops.
Bad cops, bad cops.

(While watching a glowing Homer behind an X-ray)
Dr. Hibbert: Now Mrs. Simpson, what you see here is the radioactive dye we injected into your husband's bloodstream.
Nurse: But doctor! I haven't injected the dye yet!
Dr. Hibbert: Dear lord...

(Marge, Patty and Selma are clipping discount coupons.)
Patty: Buy three tubes of Mister Blister, get one free.
(The phone rings. Marge answers)
Marge: Hello. Yes? Oh my Lord!" (Hangs up) Homer's in the hospital, they think it's his heart!
Patty: Oh my God!
Selma: What?
Patty: Five cents off wax paper!
(Selma slaps her cheek in amazement)

Dr. Hibbert: Homer, I'm afraid you'll have to undergo a coronary bypass operation.
Homer: Say it in English, Doc.
Dr. Hibbert: You're going to need open heart surgery.
Homer: Spare me your medical mumbo jumbo.
Dr. Hibbert: We're going to cut you open, and tinker with your ticker.
Homer: Could you dumb it down a shade?

Homer: I keep hearing this irregular thumping noise.
Gas Station Attendant: It's your heart, and I think it's on its last thump!
Homer: Whew, I was afraid it was my transmission.
(Homer drives off.)
Kid: Where's he going?
Gas Station Attendant: You remember that old Plymouth we just couldn't fix?
Kid: We're going to sell him to Mr. Nikopopolous?!
Gas Station Attendant: You're a dull boy, Billy.

Apu: Poor Mister Homer. Could it be that my snack treats are responsible for his wretched health?
Customer: Give me some jerky.
Apu: Would you like some vodka with that?
Customer: Oh, what the hell, sure.

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