* 2:00 a.m. ham, 2:00 a.m. ham *
* everything rhymes with "2:00 a.m. ham." *
Mmm. Mm?
So many lies.
What else was he hiding from the world?
How could the deception go so deep?
Can we ever trust anyone?
My daughter's roaming
the house in the middle of the night looking terrified.
I should probably go talk to...
* 2:00 a.m. ham. *
You look like you didn't sleep a wink.
Looks can be deceiving. Nothing is as it seems.
The world is a dark place.
Oh, Lisa seems really frazzled.
Did the climate change again?
I don't know. Probably.
Oh.
She's been like that for hours.
What is she doing under there?
Hmm. Something so troubling she doesn't want us to find out.
As her friends, we should respect that.
The confession was coerced.
Honey, what are you listening to?
Uh, you know, just some gentle ASMR noises
to soothe me to sleep.
You know, like...
and...
Oh, that stuff doesn't work...
Good night.
Music in a minor key?
You've been listening to true crime podcasts?
Hoda Kotb said on The Today Show those are really disturbing.
- Hoda. - Mom, I can handle it.
There's no swear words, just killing.
How many of these have you listened to?
I don't know. Just two or three a day.
And then maybe a couple more to take the edge off.
And then one in the morning just to get normal.
Wha... I'm not addicted, I swear.
I just need to know who killed everybody!
- Oh. - I just need to know. I just...
Aw, she's all murdered out.
These titles.
It's like they're trying to intrigue people.
Oh. I better listen to one and make sure Lisa's not too traumatized.
Whatever. I'm hitting the hay.
Okay, I'm on episode eight
of Killing her softly.
We need to talk about Angela's landlord.
Why did he allow her to pay for a year up front?
What did Sergei know?
We have much to discuss.
Okay, pause.
It's like the police intentionally
screwed up the investigation.
Right? Drops of blood you can explain,
- but drops of brain? - I know.
Okay, play.
Okay, pause. They totally ignored the text messages
- from the coroner's mistress. - Okay, play. Play.
- Mm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. - Oh. Oh.
- Mm-mm. Oh, yeah. - Hmm. Hmm.
How could a woman with four PhDs be so dumb?
So dumb.
I've never seen two people agree with each other so much.
I disagree. Come on, you two.
We're supposed to visit Grampa today.
- Homie, we can't go. - Our favorite podcast
is recording a live episode, and we have tickets.
If we gasp loud enough, we might hear ourselves.
Save it for the show, Mom.
-
Now, remember, Bart,
Grampa's life is very lonely and boring.
So make sure to look at your watch every few seconds
so he knows you want to leave.
Here, take some of these.
Why is my dad's weird old tie hanging on his doorknob?
- Oh! Oh! Ooh, ooh! - Ugh!
You idiots! Don't you know the code?
If the BOLO's a-hanging, the dentures be clanging.
This is my new girlfriend, Vivienne Saint Charmaine.
Abe-y, you didn't tell me your brothers were coming to visit.
- Oh, well. Oh, my. - Aw, shucks.
Say, you look familiar. Did you used to be younger?
Vivienne was a big-time TV star.
She was on all the hit shows, and I was a huge fan.
A little magazine.
But you probably know me best as the scheming yet conniving
Olympic diver Darcy Covington on Falcon Landing.
Ma'am, if you're a big shot has-been,
why are you dating a small-town never-was?
All my life, I dated unwrinkled men
who told short, concise stories.
But Abe here showed me what I've been missing.
He's so sweet he should come with an insulin pump.
Well, thanks for stopping by, but we've got two bingo games,
a couple's colonoscopy...
...and then we're off to a romantic dinner cruise.
- Dude. - Bro.
- Seriously. - I know.
-
From This American Crime and KBBL Springfield,
it's Interminable,
one grisly story told week after week after week
after week.
Hello. I'm Tabitha Shingle.
She's even more dry in person.
Some people look at a neck and think,
"what a great place for a scarf,"
and others think, "I'd like to choke that."
for Jackson Reeb of Lansing, Michigan, it was the latter.
-
Hey, hey, hey. Easy on the hurricane hold.
We're just doing a story on the podcast craze.
Podcast?
Flash-in-the-pan wannabe journalism.
Mark my words, Jerry, nobody cares.
Now to open this door.
Our podcast has gotten over 20 million downloads
and is being adapted into a streaming series
starring Alexander Skarsgard on Amazon prime.
Ugh. Stupid podcasts.
Thank god I have my family.
Now to open this door.
Oh.
This is Kent Brockman, Yesterday's News.
And in the end, the donkey turned out to be a horse.
You're only watching this
because somebody left the TV on in a doctor's waiting room.
W-wait, w-wait a second. We have breaking news!
There's been a murder on the high seas.
A local woman is presumed dead
after going overboard on a cruise ship.
A woman disappears from a cruise.
I wonder who did it.
Could it be...
The husband or boyfriend? Mm-hmm.
That's the lady Grampa was kissing.
-
Grampa's the husband or boyfriend?
Authorities say the missing woman is retired starlet
Vivienne Saint Charmaine.
Her boyfriend or husband, Abraham Simpson,
has been detained for questioning.
Grampa? A killer?
He doesn't have that kind of follow-through.
Did Abe Simpson do it? No one can say for sure.
But this story has the makings of a hit crime podcast.
Join me as I take a fair and unbiased look on Guilty Grampa.
This has been Kent Brockman,
bailing on TV news forever.
This is horrible. What are we gonna do?
I've already subscribed.
-
A romantic sunset cruise, the perfect setting
for new love between a fading Hollywood actress
and a fully faded old man.
But only one of them would return to port alive.
I'm Kent Brockman, and this is Guilty Grampa.
Guilty Grampa is sponsored
by shampoo shuttle, seasonal-flavored shampoos
drone-delivered direct to your shower.
Showbiz princess Vivienne Saint Charmaine
had finally met her prince,
local census resistor Abe Simpson.
Together they boarded a romantic seniors cruise
across Springfield harbor.
It was 2:33 p.m.,
and the passengers were finishing dinner.
Suddenly, there were the sounds of a commotion,
a scream and then a splash.
Vivienne was gone,
but did the truth go overboard with her?
I have with me a woman who was on that fatal cruise,
disgraced docent Agnes Skinner.
Uh, tell me about that night.
I was at the buffet when I heard a woman scream, "Abe, don't!"
then a splash.
What did you do next?
I saw they were refilling the shrimp tower,
so I had to get over there and touch them all.
"Abe, don't."
Whatever could Vivienne have meant by that?
Naturally, the police questioned Abe Simpson.
His only defense? "I don't remember."
The old man would not confess. Rude.
So we swabbed his hands
to see if they tested positive for pushing.
It came back as "no such test."
The only thing we could do was let him go.
So maybe the old saying is true.
To catch a murderer, you have to set them free
to murder again.
This has been Guilty Grampa.
Ah, that podcast sucks butts.
Grampa's not some monster.
Am I inside?
Vivienne and I went on the cruise, had dinner,
drinks, dancing, drinks.
The rest is kind of a blur.
And the next thing I know, the cops are telling me
- I'm a person of interest. - That's ridiculous.
You've never been a person of interest... not for one second.
I don't remember nothing.
But I would never hurt Vivienne.
She was my last chance at love, and now she's gone forever.
Whoop. Got to take a zizz.
Okay, quick, he's in the bathroom,
so we only have an hour to talk.
Now, on the count of three,
say if you think he's guilty or not.
One, two, three.
- Not guilty! - If I'm being honest, I think he's capable
of anything, up to and including murder.
You're talking about your own father.
Grampa's a good man,
and everyone in this town knows that.
You're protecting a killer!
Murderer!
Grampa boat-pushed my favorite sexy TV lady.
I had a poster where she was on top of a Trans Am
and it said, "finely-tuned machine."
It referred to both her and the car!
Crime podcasts should be about exposing truth,
not irresponsible speculation.
If only Kent knew Grampa like we do,
he would call that show Not Guilty Grampa,
which I bet would get even more listeners.
Hey! We got an ender.
Ender!
-
Homer, tell me about the Abe Simpson you knew and loved.
I mean, I knew him.
Was he abusive?
Oh, sure.
I mean, he was a quiet loner,
but he could be abusive when he wanted to be.
Really?
And your mother... how did she deal with all this?
You know, I'm not really sure.
She disappeared when I was quite young.
Another woman in his life vanished.
Stick some foghorns under that and put it up stat.
Uh, wait, that may have sounded bad.
You're not gonna podcast that, are you?
- Uh-oh. - Uh-oh.
Imagine the worst person in the world.
Now imagine his father. That's Abe.
His roommates kept turning up dead.
90-year-old people don't just suddenly stop breathing.
Come on.
He murdered me once.
That's why my family doesn't visit.
My grandfather is not only a great man,
he's a World War Two hero.
They used to call him "Johnny Flamethrower."
He said the fires would tell him who to burn.
So I say to Ira Glass, "'NPR'? What does that stand for?
'No Possible Revenue'?"
Hey, Kent. I'm Yeardley Smith.
Your voice sounds familiar. Where do I know you from?
From my true crime podcast Small-Town Dicks,
and nowhere else.
Can I give you a word of advice?
I'd be a fool not to say, "make it quick."
As much as it's fun to report on murder and mayhem,
these podcasts are accusing real people of serious crimes.
Without solid proof, we can ruin lives.
You're right. We do rule the universe.
Can I ask you a question?
- Of course. - Who's doing your merch?
Because I'm only netting two dollars a hat and 50 cents a mug
and I'm getting completely screwed on onesies.
Today's podcast has a killer bombshell
about the killer of the bombshell.
Grampa's motive for murder? Money.
You see, Vivienne Saint Charmaine
had a million-dollar life insurance policy.
Ooh, and the beneficiary was her new boyfriend,
Abraham J. Simpson.
The moment she drowned,
Guilty Grampa was swimming in cash.
Motive enough for you?
He did it for money.
No. No, no, no.
I don't care what it looks like. I know Abe.
He would never do something so horrible.
I did something so horrible.
I finally listened to that dad-gum podcast...
...and it convinced me I'm a killer.
Lock me up.
You're under arrest for spoiling the ending!
I was only on episode two.
Oh, and for murder. Yeah.
Abraham Simpson, as you have pled guilty
to the murder of Vivienne Saint Charmaine,
I'm giving you life in prison.
And I'm giving your podcast five stars
but no comment.
Who has the time?
-
Why did you confess, Dad?
A majority of the family believes you're innocent.
But what that Kent Brockman said about me was so darn convincing.
I began to suspect myself around episode four.
Then by episode six,
it seemed like it was that hot-tempered deckhand.
But by episode nine, I knew I'd done it,
just as sure as shampoo shuttle is the future of hair care.
We can't give up hope.
I know Grampa's situation looks bad,
with the insurance money, what Mrs. Skinner heard, but...
And the confession didn't help, either, but-but...
Take it, mom.
But-but-but...
Oh, my God. I'm not sure I have a "but."
I'm not sure I have a "but," either.
I think Grampa might have done it.
He might have. He totally might have.
Oh, no.
With all our true crime training,
how could we have missed this?
We've become the people that we hate most:
the family members too deluded to see the obvious truth.
Uh, for the record, I was willing to believe
he was the murderer back when there was no evidence.
Just saying.
Come back later.
Were in the middle of a terrible reckoning.
I have shocking medical news
that will blow your father's case wide open.
Is there somewhere public we can talk?
I don't know.
Welcome, listeners around the world and our proud astronauts
downloading in the darkness of space.
Tonight we both wrap up and drag out the story of Guilty Grampa.
You'll get a chance to hear from the hottest stars
of this heinous crime.
We love you, someone else's tragedy!
And I'm thrilled to announce the Guilty Grampa
streaming series, starring the Skarsgard
that started it all, Stellan.
I only have a deal memo.
I haven't signed the final paperwork.
Kent, there's something you've got to know.
Something everyone's got to know.
On the day of Vivienne's disappearance,
she and Abe went in for a couple's colonoscopy.
They each swallowed a tiny intestopod,
which records internal data
and broadcasts a precise GPS signal for 24 hours.
You can see here.
Once Vivienne fell off the boat, she moved directly to shore.
She didn't sink. She swam.
Vivienne's signal then traveled south
to a resort in Zihuatanejo, Mexico,
where the guacamole is made table-side.
Vivienne is alive. She faked her death.
Which means Grampa didn't kill anyone.
But your podcast convinced him that he did.
I wanted to say that part.
Well, that's, uh, that's all very interesting,
but it doesn't really fit with the title of my podcast,
to say nothing of the merch.
Guilty Grampa! Guilty Grampa!
You sent me to jail.
You're no journalist.
You made us a murderer. Wah!
I have a confession to make.
Guilty Grampa is not guilty.
Oh, we all wish he did it.
Everyone here loves DNA swabs,
cell phone pings and spatter analysis,
that fantasy that the bad guys will be caught
and the police will save the day.
Geez. That's a lot to put on a guy.
From now on, I will report with judicious restraint,
leaving behind sensational revelations
in favor of painstakingly accumulated uncertainties.
And I know you will all come along with me
on this slow, measured ride.
And with that out-of-touch statement,
Kent Brockman bid a big fat farewell
to his relevancy.
-
Come on, Dad, cheer up. You're an innocent man.
Or so you'd have us believe.
I thought Vivienne loved me, but she played me for a sap.
Why'd you set me up, baby?
Well, if it makes you feel any better,
I never believed she liked you for one second.
Well, I did.
I thought she was gonna be the last love of my life.
Hi, Abe.
What the...
Vivienne. Why'd you set me up?
We set you up.
You weren't supposed to confess.
You were supposed to meet me in Mexico
with the insurance money.
- That was the plan. - What plan?
The plan where I faked my death
and waited for you to meet me in Mexico
with the insurance money.
That's why I yelled, "Abe, don't... forget the plan,"
- as I was diving off the boat. - What boat?
I love you, you senile old sex machine.
Oh, what do we do now that we're on the run?
We live out the rest of our days
in a place where no one will ever notice us.
I'm putting the space heater on ten.
Ooh, Abe.
Oh, you naughty boy.
- synced and corrected by sot26 - www.addic7ed.com
Shh!