Married with Children s10e04 Episode Script
Reverend Al
Order, order, order.
This meeting of NO MA'AM National Organization of Men Against Amazonian Masterhood will now come to order.
Brother Jefferson will read the minutes.
Al, he's just gonna do his stupid 8:01, 8:02 joke again.
No, I won't, and it's not stupid.
The minutes of the last meeting are 8:01, 8:02, 8:03, 8:04! Forget about the minutes.
Go sit down.
Now, last meeting, we argued about which Big 'Uns centerfold was sexier, July or August.
We couldn't decide, so we ripped them out put them down our pants, and danced around.
Then we each drank about 30 beers.
Now, wait a second.
That's how we started the meeting.
That's the only reason we had the meeting.
That's right.
Then let's get underway.
Treasurer Bob Rooney, pass out the liquid gold.
Hey, this isn't our regular beer.
Yeast N Stuff? Sorry, guys, but they raised the beer tax again.
So this is it.
Unless we wanna go back and have sex with our wives for more beer money.
No way.
Beer is beer.
We didn't become NO MA'AMers by being discriminating.
- Or employed.
- Or happy.
- Or bathed.
- Or documented.
Down the hatch.
Hey, if I wanted to reek of cheap booze, I'd just go kiss my wife.
So I gather things didn't go so well at the lawyer's.
It was a disaster.
He said my marriage to Franny is legal.
It can't be legal.
You were married in a hot tub by a nudist who called himself Reverend Flashback.
Not only is Reverend Flashback legal he is now one of the Forbes 500 richest televangelists right between the pope and Dionne Warwick.
How can a nudist reverend be so rich? Yeah, and where does he keep his wallet? Same place you keep your head.
Guys, come on.
It's simple.
Reverend Flashback has mega bucks because churches have tax-exempt status.
Can you imagine all the good we could do if we didn't have to pay taxes? - Hey, hey, we could buy real beer.
- And maybe some ale.
- Ale sucks.
- Suck this.
Gentlemen, focus, focus.
- Now, where were we? - In your garage.
- I meant where were we--? - All right.
Look.
I'm gonna call a lawyer friend of mine and find out more about this.
If Reverend Flashback can call himself a church and not pay taxes then why can't we? Our wives would take the money and waste it on charities health insurance, lingerie.
Then we'll keep it a secret.
Jefferson, not a word to: You got it, buddy.
Then it's settled.
We will become a church, a sacred organization of peace and brotherhood.
I'll drink to that.
Hey, he's got good beer.
Hold him down.
Hold him down for me.
Hey, Lucky sounds hungry.
You better feed him, Bud.
I don't feed him.
I walk him.
You're supposed to feed him.
No, I'm not.
I bathe him and vacuum him dry.
Okay, then who feeds him? Nobody.
If it weren't for the girl's edible underwear, I wouldn't eat at all.
Hi, kids.
Hey, look what you got me for my birthday.
All you have to do is wrap it.
Wrap it? Oh, do you need a card too? - I hate your birthday.
- I know.
What happened to the days when you'd give us money to buy you a cake and then we'd eat it before you got home? Peg, did Jefferson call? No, Al, and guess what Friday is.
Oh, Peg, you know I hate when you do this.
I hate when you do anything, but especially this.
It's my birthday.
- You know what that means.
- Okay, Peg.
Get a blanket.
I'll get a Big 'Uns and I'll meet you behind the furnace.
Not sex, Al.
Okay, but I offered, and that counts for one.
I wanna go on a date.
Fine.
Go.
With you.
It's my birthday and I want dinner, dancing and a show.
Okay.
I'll go, but only because I'll be getting some.
- Oh, Al.
- Some dinner.
God, how sad.
You know what I'd do if my lover lost interest in me? You'd sleep with his patrol officer? We're in, buddy.
The lawyer says we can be a church.
Jefferson, you know how women hate to see us happy.
Look sad.
Al, we'll never have to pay taxes on anything.
Oh, Jefferson, that is just awful.
We can get tanked for pennies.
A toast to our leader, a true man of the froth.
Gentlemen, in the history of mankind there have only been a few truly good scams.
Loch Ness monster, Canada.
And now the tax-free Church of NO MA'AM.
You know, beer tastes better when it's tax-free.
Yeah, and Big 'Uns look bigger when they're tax-free.
That's why we started this bogus church in the first place.
Men, there's nothing but good times ahead.
Not so fast, Reverend Half Moon Pits.
This is no man of the cloth.
This is Al "Scratch-and-Sniff" Bundy.
And now, I've exposed his stench for all to see.
You go, girl.
Take it.
This is Miranda Veracruz de la Jolla Cardenal.
As you have just witnessed chauvinism and religious quackery are alive and well right here in Al Bundy's garage.
--calling themselves the Church of NO MA'AM in a shameless and clearly illegal attempt to avoid paying taxes.
I have defrocked you, Al Bundy.
I have destroyed the Church of NO MA'AM.
I won, I won, I won.
I won, I won, I won.
Are you that NO MA'AM guy on the news? He's also Arnold the pig on Green Acres.
All of these letters are from guys that support your cause.
- How would you know that? - We open them.
And the guys at work are prepared to put down their mail pouches and assault weapons and follow you anywhere, Reverend Al.
Reverend Al? That's who all these letters are addressed to.
We've gone national.
You know what this means, Reverend Al? Ka-ching.
This is incredible.
- Another $10.
- Hey, that's my dough.
Man, everybody's trying to get a ticket on the NO MA'AM express.
Hey, why not? Hey, listen to this one.
"Gentlemen, although I cannot reveal my identity I am also under the iron rule of a woman.
Here's $10 for your cause.
Your friend, B.
Clinton.
P.
S.
: Don't tell H.
, not her real name.
" Hey, our phony church is becoming a real religion.
And like other great religions, we have a sacred obligation to make a lot of money and open our own theme park.
NO MA'AM's Land.
Guys, am I the only one who thinks we're getting a little carried away? Yes.
Don't you see? Real religions have commandments, beliefs, values traditions that have been formed over thousands of years.
No problem.
We'll make some of them up.
And now, onto the burning question that has plagued the great religions for centuries.
Is there an afterlife? Hell, no.
How do we keep these suckers hemorrhaging cash? We'll do it like the pros.
Rent a hall, buy some dirt-cheap time on cable TV or Fox give a fire-and-brimstone speech, and suck their bank accounts dry.
- Oh, Al.
- What is it, Tammy Faye? Have you forgotten what day this is? Come-as-your-favorite Hee Haw-character day at Kmart? It's my birthday.
So your birthday and Hee Haw- character day are the same? What are the odds? - Come on.
Get dressed.
- Oh, Peg, no, not tonight.
Tonight, our monster truck, the Ford Taurusaurus is jumping 1000 Geo Metros.
If they don't make it, there could be hundreds of dollars worth of damage.
Look, Al, if you don't want to see something else tiny and underpowered get squashed you will get dressed and come with me.
All right, gentlemen.
I guess this meeting of NO MA'AM is adjourned.
We will convene tomorrow and talk about "eecing-flay the ongragation-cay.
" Oh, Al.
I'm just so excited.
This is just like before we got married.
Oh, Al, is that money in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me? It's money, Peg.
Just like before we got married.
Let's get this over with.
"Eecing-flay the ongragation-cay?" Should I order my new Cadillac with cloth or leather seat covers? I'm getting leopard, so they match my underwear.
Guess I won't have any seat covers.
You know, it's not too late to call this off.
What is with you, Griff? We're gonna make a fortune tonight.
The last time I felt this queasy in church is when someone said: "You may kiss the bride.
" Griff, will you relax, all right? I'm sure Al is gonna handle this with respect and dignity.
Brothers.
For years, we have been tortured by the shrill voices of our nagging wives but at last, we have found a man.
A man who speaks to us all.
A man who married for our sins.
Let's everybody give it up for the Reverend Al Bundy.
Can I hear it for my alter vixens Halla and Luyah? Believers, guests those of you with the deep pockets that got the cushioned seats up front let me tell you a little story.
God created man.
Everything was going great, then Eve came around and said, "Apple?" The one time they offer us something to eat we wind up selling women's shoes.
Now, I know that a lot of you are wondering what the Church of NO MA'AM is all about.
Hooters! Yes, but we are also about making the world something it used to be back when men were men and women were ribs.
Tell it, Reverend Al.
When a driver's-side air bag was called a mother-in-law.
When a frank conversation with the wife used to begin with: "What's for dinner?" and ended with "You call that dinner?" Would you like a squeeze? Oh, yes.
- Wipe your brow? - Bless you, my child.
Though I see you've already been blessed.
But it is our mission to bring back the natural order of things.
- Guy things.
- Amen.
Like barber shops, hardware stores those calendars, you lift the cellophane, she's naked in there.
I want to bring us back to those times.
This is an engine that runs on money.
I'm not talking about that unleaded, eco-friendly tree-hugging, girlie-jiggling money.
You go, preacher man.
I'm talking about beer-guzzling, truck-driving, low-riding belching, biting, folding money.
Now, if no one wants to testify, we will pass the collection plate.
I wanna testify.
A woman! Now, now, now, let us not jump to conclusions.
Want me to take her down, Reverend Al? That will not be necessary, Brother Archimedes.
The days are over when a woman could whoop us like a nation of Gerry Cooneys.
Actually, I have very little to say.
Amen.
I'd like to thank the Reverend Al for giving such a stirring, pork-laden speech.
Hurry up, Marcie.
I'm about to be born again, and again.
You're gonna be laughing out the other side of your pipe organ in a minute.
My women's group has commandeered the video booth.
There's something we'd like to show you to put a smile on your snouts.
Girlie porn? Even better.
Let's go on a date with Reverend Al.
Roll it, girls.
Here he is, dancing with his wife.
Take her down, Archimedes.
Take him down, Dot.
Damn.
You a lot of woman.
I'm a lot of everything.
And here's your man's man at a restaurant call Potpourri, eating quiche.
Now, I can explain that.
I had ordered a meatball sandwich, extra ball.
Let's see where they went next.
Bowling, perhaps? Why, no.
They're attending a performance of Cats with all proceeds going to the Chicago Ballet.
And finally, behold your beloved Reverend Al and the missis outside the Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Motel.
So there you have it your leader on a date with his wife, deeply in love.
Say it ain't so, Reverend Al.
Tell us you were with a hooker, or at least a guy dressed like one.
Oink your way out of this one, Reverend Fatback.
I have sinned.
I have consorted with my wife.
But it's not like I enjoyed it.
I mean, you know, it was her birthday, for heaven's sake.
Hold it.
Let he who is without wife cast the first stone.
Thanks, Griff.
Here's your presents, Mom.
Open mine first, Mom.
I can't wait to see what I got you.
Oh, kids, this is the best birthday I've ever had.
Well, bicentennials are always special.
Al, don't be such a grouch.
I mean, sure you lost your congregation your pride, and every last shred of dignity but at least the IRS isn't after you for tax fraud.
I wonder who that could be.
Reverend Al Bundy, this is the IRS.
Put up your hands and throw out your wallet.
I'll be back in 20 years.
- Bye, Dad.
- See you.
Don't wait up.
This meeting of NO MA'AM National Organization of Men Against Amazonian Masterhood will now come to order.
Brother Jefferson will read the minutes.
Al, he's just gonna do his stupid 8:01, 8:02 joke again.
No, I won't, and it's not stupid.
The minutes of the last meeting are 8:01, 8:02, 8:03, 8:04! Forget about the minutes.
Go sit down.
Now, last meeting, we argued about which Big 'Uns centerfold was sexier, July or August.
We couldn't decide, so we ripped them out put them down our pants, and danced around.
Then we each drank about 30 beers.
Now, wait a second.
That's how we started the meeting.
That's the only reason we had the meeting.
That's right.
Then let's get underway.
Treasurer Bob Rooney, pass out the liquid gold.
Hey, this isn't our regular beer.
Yeast N Stuff? Sorry, guys, but they raised the beer tax again.
So this is it.
Unless we wanna go back and have sex with our wives for more beer money.
No way.
Beer is beer.
We didn't become NO MA'AMers by being discriminating.
- Or employed.
- Or happy.
- Or bathed.
- Or documented.
Down the hatch.
Hey, if I wanted to reek of cheap booze, I'd just go kiss my wife.
So I gather things didn't go so well at the lawyer's.
It was a disaster.
He said my marriage to Franny is legal.
It can't be legal.
You were married in a hot tub by a nudist who called himself Reverend Flashback.
Not only is Reverend Flashback legal he is now one of the Forbes 500 richest televangelists right between the pope and Dionne Warwick.
How can a nudist reverend be so rich? Yeah, and where does he keep his wallet? Same place you keep your head.
Guys, come on.
It's simple.
Reverend Flashback has mega bucks because churches have tax-exempt status.
Can you imagine all the good we could do if we didn't have to pay taxes? - Hey, hey, we could buy real beer.
- And maybe some ale.
- Ale sucks.
- Suck this.
Gentlemen, focus, focus.
- Now, where were we? - In your garage.
- I meant where were we--? - All right.
Look.
I'm gonna call a lawyer friend of mine and find out more about this.
If Reverend Flashback can call himself a church and not pay taxes then why can't we? Our wives would take the money and waste it on charities health insurance, lingerie.
Then we'll keep it a secret.
Jefferson, not a word to: You got it, buddy.
Then it's settled.
We will become a church, a sacred organization of peace and brotherhood.
I'll drink to that.
Hey, he's got good beer.
Hold him down.
Hold him down for me.
Hey, Lucky sounds hungry.
You better feed him, Bud.
I don't feed him.
I walk him.
You're supposed to feed him.
No, I'm not.
I bathe him and vacuum him dry.
Okay, then who feeds him? Nobody.
If it weren't for the girl's edible underwear, I wouldn't eat at all.
Hi, kids.
Hey, look what you got me for my birthday.
All you have to do is wrap it.
Wrap it? Oh, do you need a card too? - I hate your birthday.
- I know.
What happened to the days when you'd give us money to buy you a cake and then we'd eat it before you got home? Peg, did Jefferson call? No, Al, and guess what Friday is.
Oh, Peg, you know I hate when you do this.
I hate when you do anything, but especially this.
It's my birthday.
- You know what that means.
- Okay, Peg.
Get a blanket.
I'll get a Big 'Uns and I'll meet you behind the furnace.
Not sex, Al.
Okay, but I offered, and that counts for one.
I wanna go on a date.
Fine.
Go.
With you.
It's my birthday and I want dinner, dancing and a show.
Okay.
I'll go, but only because I'll be getting some.
- Oh, Al.
- Some dinner.
God, how sad.
You know what I'd do if my lover lost interest in me? You'd sleep with his patrol officer? We're in, buddy.
The lawyer says we can be a church.
Jefferson, you know how women hate to see us happy.
Look sad.
Al, we'll never have to pay taxes on anything.
Oh, Jefferson, that is just awful.
We can get tanked for pennies.
A toast to our leader, a true man of the froth.
Gentlemen, in the history of mankind there have only been a few truly good scams.
Loch Ness monster, Canada.
And now the tax-free Church of NO MA'AM.
You know, beer tastes better when it's tax-free.
Yeah, and Big 'Uns look bigger when they're tax-free.
That's why we started this bogus church in the first place.
Men, there's nothing but good times ahead.
Not so fast, Reverend Half Moon Pits.
This is no man of the cloth.
This is Al "Scratch-and-Sniff" Bundy.
And now, I've exposed his stench for all to see.
You go, girl.
Take it.
This is Miranda Veracruz de la Jolla Cardenal.
As you have just witnessed chauvinism and religious quackery are alive and well right here in Al Bundy's garage.
--calling themselves the Church of NO MA'AM in a shameless and clearly illegal attempt to avoid paying taxes.
I have defrocked you, Al Bundy.
I have destroyed the Church of NO MA'AM.
I won, I won, I won.
I won, I won, I won.
Are you that NO MA'AM guy on the news? He's also Arnold the pig on Green Acres.
All of these letters are from guys that support your cause.
- How would you know that? - We open them.
And the guys at work are prepared to put down their mail pouches and assault weapons and follow you anywhere, Reverend Al.
Reverend Al? That's who all these letters are addressed to.
We've gone national.
You know what this means, Reverend Al? Ka-ching.
This is incredible.
- Another $10.
- Hey, that's my dough.
Man, everybody's trying to get a ticket on the NO MA'AM express.
Hey, why not? Hey, listen to this one.
"Gentlemen, although I cannot reveal my identity I am also under the iron rule of a woman.
Here's $10 for your cause.
Your friend, B.
Clinton.
P.
S.
: Don't tell H.
, not her real name.
" Hey, our phony church is becoming a real religion.
And like other great religions, we have a sacred obligation to make a lot of money and open our own theme park.
NO MA'AM's Land.
Guys, am I the only one who thinks we're getting a little carried away? Yes.
Don't you see? Real religions have commandments, beliefs, values traditions that have been formed over thousands of years.
No problem.
We'll make some of them up.
And now, onto the burning question that has plagued the great religions for centuries.
Is there an afterlife? Hell, no.
How do we keep these suckers hemorrhaging cash? We'll do it like the pros.
Rent a hall, buy some dirt-cheap time on cable TV or Fox give a fire-and-brimstone speech, and suck their bank accounts dry.
- Oh, Al.
- What is it, Tammy Faye? Have you forgotten what day this is? Come-as-your-favorite Hee Haw-character day at Kmart? It's my birthday.
So your birthday and Hee Haw- character day are the same? What are the odds? - Come on.
Get dressed.
- Oh, Peg, no, not tonight.
Tonight, our monster truck, the Ford Taurusaurus is jumping 1000 Geo Metros.
If they don't make it, there could be hundreds of dollars worth of damage.
Look, Al, if you don't want to see something else tiny and underpowered get squashed you will get dressed and come with me.
All right, gentlemen.
I guess this meeting of NO MA'AM is adjourned.
We will convene tomorrow and talk about "eecing-flay the ongragation-cay.
" Oh, Al.
I'm just so excited.
This is just like before we got married.
Oh, Al, is that money in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me? It's money, Peg.
Just like before we got married.
Let's get this over with.
"Eecing-flay the ongragation-cay?" Should I order my new Cadillac with cloth or leather seat covers? I'm getting leopard, so they match my underwear.
Guess I won't have any seat covers.
You know, it's not too late to call this off.
What is with you, Griff? We're gonna make a fortune tonight.
The last time I felt this queasy in church is when someone said: "You may kiss the bride.
" Griff, will you relax, all right? I'm sure Al is gonna handle this with respect and dignity.
Brothers.
For years, we have been tortured by the shrill voices of our nagging wives but at last, we have found a man.
A man who speaks to us all.
A man who married for our sins.
Let's everybody give it up for the Reverend Al Bundy.
Can I hear it for my alter vixens Halla and Luyah? Believers, guests those of you with the deep pockets that got the cushioned seats up front let me tell you a little story.
God created man.
Everything was going great, then Eve came around and said, "Apple?" The one time they offer us something to eat we wind up selling women's shoes.
Now, I know that a lot of you are wondering what the Church of NO MA'AM is all about.
Hooters! Yes, but we are also about making the world something it used to be back when men were men and women were ribs.
Tell it, Reverend Al.
When a driver's-side air bag was called a mother-in-law.
When a frank conversation with the wife used to begin with: "What's for dinner?" and ended with "You call that dinner?" Would you like a squeeze? Oh, yes.
- Wipe your brow? - Bless you, my child.
Though I see you've already been blessed.
But it is our mission to bring back the natural order of things.
- Guy things.
- Amen.
Like barber shops, hardware stores those calendars, you lift the cellophane, she's naked in there.
I want to bring us back to those times.
This is an engine that runs on money.
I'm not talking about that unleaded, eco-friendly tree-hugging, girlie-jiggling money.
You go, preacher man.
I'm talking about beer-guzzling, truck-driving, low-riding belching, biting, folding money.
Now, if no one wants to testify, we will pass the collection plate.
I wanna testify.
A woman! Now, now, now, let us not jump to conclusions.
Want me to take her down, Reverend Al? That will not be necessary, Brother Archimedes.
The days are over when a woman could whoop us like a nation of Gerry Cooneys.
Actually, I have very little to say.
Amen.
I'd like to thank the Reverend Al for giving such a stirring, pork-laden speech.
Hurry up, Marcie.
I'm about to be born again, and again.
You're gonna be laughing out the other side of your pipe organ in a minute.
My women's group has commandeered the video booth.
There's something we'd like to show you to put a smile on your snouts.
Girlie porn? Even better.
Let's go on a date with Reverend Al.
Roll it, girls.
Here he is, dancing with his wife.
Take her down, Archimedes.
Take him down, Dot.
Damn.
You a lot of woman.
I'm a lot of everything.
And here's your man's man at a restaurant call Potpourri, eating quiche.
Now, I can explain that.
I had ordered a meatball sandwich, extra ball.
Let's see where they went next.
Bowling, perhaps? Why, no.
They're attending a performance of Cats with all proceeds going to the Chicago Ballet.
And finally, behold your beloved Reverend Al and the missis outside the Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Motel.
So there you have it your leader on a date with his wife, deeply in love.
Say it ain't so, Reverend Al.
Tell us you were with a hooker, or at least a guy dressed like one.
Oink your way out of this one, Reverend Fatback.
I have sinned.
I have consorted with my wife.
But it's not like I enjoyed it.
I mean, you know, it was her birthday, for heaven's sake.
Hold it.
Let he who is without wife cast the first stone.
Thanks, Griff.
Here's your presents, Mom.
Open mine first, Mom.
I can't wait to see what I got you.
Oh, kids, this is the best birthday I've ever had.
Well, bicentennials are always special.
Al, don't be such a grouch.
I mean, sure you lost your congregation your pride, and every last shred of dignity but at least the IRS isn't after you for tax fraud.
I wonder who that could be.
Reverend Al Bundy, this is the IRS.
Put up your hands and throw out your wallet.
I'll be back in 20 years.
- Bye, Dad.
- See you.
Don't wait up.