Chalkboard: None

Couch: The living room is bathed in black light. The Simpsons rush in, looking fluorescent-colored. A heavy metal guitar riff plays until Homer turns the light on and the regular opening theme music resumes.

Mr. Burns: Who is that lavatory links man, Smithers?
Smithers: Homer Simpson, sir. One of the fork and spoon operators from sector 7-G.
Mr. Burns: Well, he's certainly got a loose waggle. Perhaps I've finally found a golfer worthy of a match with Monty Burns, eh?
Smithers: His waggle is no match for yours, sir. I've never seen you lose a game. Except for that one in '74 when you let Richard Nixon win. That was very kind of you, sir.
Mr. Burns: Oh, he just looked so forlorn, Smithers, with his (imitating Nixon) "Oh, I can't go to prison, Monty. They'll eat me alive!" (Smithers laughs) I wonder if this Homer Nixon is any relation?
Smithers: Unlikely, sir. They spell and pronounce their names differently.
Mr. Burns: Bah! Schedule a game and I'll ask him myself.

Tom Kite: Now, you don't want to overthink.
Homer: Not an issue.
Tom Kite: Keep your head down.
Homer: (raising his head) Huh?
Tom Kite: Pretend there's no one else here. (Homer scratches his butt with the club and burps)...And just go at your own pace. (Homer hits the ball very close to the hole)....Wow, very impressive. You're a natural, Mr. Simpson.
Homer: Really?
Tom Kite: Uh huh. All you need is your own set of clubs, and stay the hell out of my locker!...you can keep the shoes!

Marge: Miss? Miss? Do you have a Chanel suit or any other high quality clothes?
Saleswoman: No, ma'am, but we do have a shipment of slightly burned Sears’ active wear coming in this afternoon.
Marge: Oh, I give up.
Cletus: What time and how burnt?