No way, Bart. If I lean over, I leave myself open to wedgies, wet willies, or even the dreaded rear-admiral!— Milhouse
Homer: How can you love a box, or a toy or graphics? You're a grown man.
John: It's camp! (Homer stares blankly) The tragically ludicrous? The ludicrously tragic?
Homer: Oh, yeah. Like when a clown dies.
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