When a photo of Homer with a belly dancer from a bachelor party hits the town, Homer has to teach Bart that women are not objects.
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Marge: So, how was the office birthday party?
Homer: Oh, it was delightful. The frosting on the cake was this thick. (Uses thumb and index finger to indicate the thickness.) And Eugene Fisk--my poor sucker of an assistant--didn't know the fruit punch was spiked, and he really made an ass of himself putting the moves on the new girl in Valve Maintenance. Ha, ha, ha.
Marge: Does this girl like him?
Homer: Pffft. I have to warn you, Marge. I think the poor young thing has the hots for Yours Truly.
Homer: Just keepin' you on your toes, babe.
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Mr. Burns: What in blue blazes do you think you're doing, Simpson?!
Homer: What do you mean, sir?
Mr. Burns: I mean this! (holds up the picture of Homer with belly dancer)
Mr. Burns: A plant employee carrying on like an over-sexed orangutan in heat! This is a family nuclear power plant, Simpson. Our research indicates that over fifty percent of our power is used by women. (wrinkles up the picture into a ball) I will not have you offending my customers with your bawdy shenanigans!
Homer: It won't happen again, sir, I promise! Can I get outta' your sight now?
Mr. Burns: Wait a minute, Simpson! Smithers, could you please leave the room?
Smithers: Yes, sir.
Mr. Burns: (sadly) Simpson... I am, by most measures, a successful man. I have wealth and power beyond the dreams of you and your clock-punching ilk. And yet, I've led a solitary life. The fair sex remains a mystery to me. You seem to have a way with women. A certain, how should I put it?... "Animal magnÃ©tisme". (begging) Help me, Simpson. Tell me your secret.
Homer: Uh, Mr. Burns, in spite of what everybody thinks, I'm no loverboy.
Mr. Burns: (pleasantly) Simpson, I'm asking you nicely.
Homer: I don't really know, sir--
Mr. Burns: (angrily) Simpson!
Homer: (scared) Well, oh, wine 'em! Dine 'em. Bring them flowers. Write them love poetry... sir.
Mr. Burns: Of course! It's simplicity itself! I won't forget this, Simpson. (angrily) Now return to your work! And tell no one of what transpired here.
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