Oh, son, don’t overreach. Go for the dented car the dead-end job, the less attractive girl. I blame myself: I should have had this talk a long time ago.— Grampa
Homer: (drunken) Look, the thing about our family is that there's five of us. Marge, Bart, girl Bart, the one who doesn't talk, and that fat guy. How I loathe him!
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