Kent Brockman: Hordes of panicky people seem to be evacuating the town for some unknown reason. Professor, without knowing precisely what the danger is, would you say it's time for our viewers to crack each other's heads open and feast on the goo inside?
Professor: Mmm, yes I would, Kent.

Ladies and gentlemen, I've been to Vietnam, Afghanistan, and Iraq; and I can say without hyperbole that this is a million times worse than all of them put together.

The father of the deposed beauty queen, Homer Simpson, filled out the pageant application incorrectly. In the area under "do not write in this space" he wrote "OK".

Kent Brockman: Well, this reporter was ... possibly a little hasty earlier and would like to ... reaffirm his allegiance to this country and its human president. It may not be perfect, but it's still the best government we have. For now.

Tonight, on Smartline: The Power plant strike. Argle bargle, or fooforaw?

Ladies and gentlemen, uh, we've just lost the picture, but what we've seen speaks for itself. The Corvair spacecraft has apparently been taken over, 'conquered' if you will, by a master race of giant space ants. It's difficult to tell from this vantage point whether they will consume the captive Earthmen or merely enslave them. One thing is for certain: there is no stopping them; the ants will soon be here. And I, for one, welcome our new insect overlords. I'd like to remind them as a trusted TV personality, I can be helpful in rounding up others to toil in their underground sugar caves.

Kent Brockman: Uh, Mr. Burns, people are calling this a meltdown.
Mr. Burns: Oh, meltdown. It's one of these annoying buzzwords. We prefer to call it an unrequested fission surplus.