"Good news, everyone." "Tomorrow, you'll be making a delivery... to Ebola 9, the virus planet." "Why can't they go today?" "Because tonight's a special night... and I want all of you to be alive." "It's the Academy of Inventors annual symposium." "Wow, I love symposia." "It's the event of the scientific season." "Every member presents an invention... and the best one wins the academy prize." "Sounds boring." "Oh, my, yes, but not this year... because my latest invention is unbeatable." "Behold... the death clock." "Simply jam your finger in the hole... and this readout tells you... exactly how long you have left to live." "Does it really work?" "Well, it's occasionally off by a few seconds... what with free will and all." "Sounds like fun." "How long do I have to live?" "Ooh, dibs on his CD player!" "Who's the gross nerd?" "That's me, at the very first symposium." "I'm the academy's oldest living member, you know." "These youngsters all look up to me." "Well, well, well..." "look who decided to show his wrinkled face." "Why don't you just leave me alone, Wernstrom?" "Face it, Farnsworth, you're over the hill." "It's time to leave science to the 120-year-olds." "You young Turks think you know everything." "I was inventing things... when you were barely turning senile." "Go home before you embarrass yourself, old man." "Now, if you'll excuse me..." "I'm going to take a nap before the ceremonies." "Who's that jerk?" "A hundred years ago... he was my most promising student at Mars University... but then, after one fateful pop quiz..." ""A-minus"?" "No one gives Ogden Wernstrom an A-minus." "I'm sorry, but penmanship counts." "I swear I'll have my revenge... if it takes me a hundred years." "And here it is... slightly over 99 years later and still no revenge." "I'm essentially in the clear." "I've been perusing your fortified wine list... and I've selected the '71 Hobo's Delight... the '57 Chateau Part-Ay and the '66 Thunder-schewitz." "Exquisite choices, sir." "And mix them all together... in a big jug." "Welcome to this year's academy symposium." "I'm your host, Ron Popeil... inventor of Mr. Microphone, the spray-on toupee... and, of course, the technology... to keep human heads alive in jars." "But wait, there's more!" "We've got a whole lineup of inventors tonight... starting with that up-and-coming young star..." "Ogden Wernstrom." "Boo!" "More wine!" "Distinguished members of the academy..." "I present to you the reverse scuba suit." "Observe." "Fetch." "Now sit." "I said, "Sit."" "Bad fish!" "Oh." "Don't worry, Professor." "It's no competition for your death clock." "And what will you be presenting this evening, Grandpa?" "Let's just say... it'll put you young whippersnappers... in your place." "I just hope it's not as lame... as that death clock you presented last year." "Eh, "last year," you say?" "That's right." "Oh, my." "Did it put you young whippersnappers in your place?" "Hardly." "We laughed until our teeth fell out." "Come along, Cinnamon." "Oh, dear." "I'll have to invent something new... in the next ten minutes... perhaps some sort of death clock." "Uh, Professor?" "Our last presentation comes from our oldest member..." "Professor Hubert Farnsworth." "Professor?" "Just a second." "Just a second." "Pencils down, prune face." "Oh, yes, here I am." "Okay, now." "Hello there." "Now, we all know telescopes allow us to see distant objects... but what if we want to smell distant objects?" "Well, now we can... thanks to my new invention... the smelloscope." "The odor travels past this coffee stain here... around the olive pit and into this cigar burn... and this appears to be a-a... doodle of myself as a cowboy." "But the smelloscope is brilliant, I tell you!" "Think of the astronomical odors you'll smell, thanks to me!" "Oh, my." "I've waited a hundred years for this, Farnsworth." "I give your invention the worst grade imaginable... an A-minus-minus!" "And now for the presentation of the award." "Listen, folks..." "I'm practically giving this prize away... to Dr. Wernstrom for his fish thingy." "Oh." "Perhaps 149 is just too old to be a scientist." "Yep." "No, Professor." "Don't give up." "There were plenty of times in my century... when I was going to give up, but I never did." "Never." "Hey, are you even listening to me?" "Oh, I give up." "By God, you're right!" "I'm going to build that smelloscope." "Eureka!" "Did you build the smelloscope?" "No." "I remembered that I built one last year." "Go ahead, try it." "You'll find that every heavenly body has... its own particular scent." "Here, I'll point it at Jupiter." "Smells like strawberries." "Exactly." "And now Saturn." "Pine needles." "Oh, man, this is great." "As long as you don't make me smell Uranus." "I don't get it." "I'm sorry, Fry... but astronomers renamed Uranus in 2620 to end that stupid joke once and for all." "Oh." "What's it called now?" "Urectum." "Here, let me locate it for you." "How about..." "No, no, I think I'll just smell around a bit over here." "Hmm." "Hmm." "What is it?" "Oh, jeez, oh, man!" "Remarkable!" "A stench so foul, it's right off the funk-ometer." "I daresay, Fry may have discovered... the smelliest object in the known universe." "Ooh!" "Ooh!" "Name it after me!" "I think it's moving." "Hmm." "Perhaps the computer can calculate its trajectory." "My God!" "Whatever it is, it's headed straight for us... with enough force to reduce this entire city... to a stinky crater!" "We have less than 72 hours." "Well, let's get looting." "So this thing's going to destroy the whole city?" "What the heck is it?" "Ah, just as I thought." "The answer lies in this movie I found on the Internet." "Theyear2000." "Themostwastefulsociety in the history of the galaxy... and it was running out of places... to bury its never-ending output of garbage." "Thelandfillswerefull." "New Jersey was full." "And so, under cover of darkness... the city put its garbage out to sea... on the world's largest barge." "Therepulsivebargecircled the oceans for 50 years... but no country would accept it... not even that really filthy one." "You know the one I mean." "Finally, in 2052, the city used its mob connections... to obtain a rocket and launch the garbage... into outer space." "Some experts claim the ball might return to Earth someday... but their concerns were dismissed... as depressing." "Wow, you got that off the Internet?" "In my day, the Internet was only used... to download pornography." "Actually, that's still true." "Now that the garbage is in space, doctor... perhaps you can help me with my sexual inhibitions." "With gusto." "Aw." "So that's the situation." "Due to the shortsightedness of Old New York..." "New New York is going to be destroyed... by a giant ball of garbage." "Fry, what the hell were you people thinking back then?" "How could you just throw your garbage away?" "Hey, hey, give me a break." "What do you do with it?" "We recycle everything." "Robots are made from old beer cans." "Yeah, and this beer can... is made out of old robots." "And that sandwich you're eating... is made from old discarded sandwiches." "Nothing just gets thrown away." "The future is disgusting." "Typical 20th-century attitude." "Hey, you have no right... to criticize the 20th century." "We gave the world the light bulb, the steamboat... and the cotton gin." "Those things are all from the 19th century." "Yeah, well, they probably just copied us." "Please, there's no time for this now." "This is an emergency." "We must warn the mayor." "Garbage ball, huh?" "That sounds serious." "Very serious, Mayor Poopenmeyer." "I got be sure this isn't another scientific fraud... like global warming or secondhand smoke." "Send in my science advisor." "Wernstrom!" "Well, well, well." "Come to present your latest napkin, Professor?" "No, I'm here because a giant trash ball... is heading straight for us." "Smell for yourself." "Holy..." "Gee!" "That smell could be anything... a faulty stench coil, some cheese on the lens, who knows?" "Mr. Mayor, we just got this transmission from Neptune." "Giant garbage ball... passed close by." "Horrible stench!" "The transmission cuts out there, sir." "No, I guess it keeps going." "There we go." "My God!" "The senile old man is right!" "Do you mean him or me?" " Him." " Oh." "New New York in crisis." "Morbo?" "Thanks, human female." "Puny earthlings were shocked today... to learn that a ball of garbage will destroy... their pathetic city of New New York." "Makes me glad we live here in Los Angeles." "Morbo agrees." "Can't we just... shoot a missile at it?" "We've simulated that on a supercomputer... but the ball is just too damn gooey." "A missile would go right through it." "But suppose we sent a crew to plant an explosive... precisely on the fault line... between this mass of coffee grounds... and this deposit of America Online floppy disks." "In theory, it could work." "Uh, in theory, perhaps... but you'll never find a crew willing to take on a mission... so suicidally dangerous." "Aw, crap." "Now you'll only have one chance... to destroy the ball." "After that... it will be so close to Earth that blowing it up... would cause garbage to rain over the entire planet... killing billions." "Aw, boo-hoo." "Now here's the bomb I've prepared." "Once you activate it... you'll have 25 minutes to get away." "That's all?" "But..." "Now, now." "There'll be plenty of time to discuss your objections... when and if you return." "Odor at magnitude eight." "Magnitude 12." "Magnitude 31." "We're breaking up." "Turnontheanti-smelldevice." "Hmm, sporty." "Wow!" "Look at all this filth." "It's not filth." "It's a glorious monument... to the achievements of the 20th century." "Look, a real beanie baby." "Oh, a Mr. Spock collectors' plate." "Some Bart Simpson dolls." "Eat my shorts." "Okay." "Mmm, shorts." "Fry, this stuff was garbage when it was new." "Let's blow it up already." "This junk isn't garbage." "I can dig in any random pile... and find something great." "All right, let's get to work." "Let's see." "If that's Hypodermic Ridge... then the bomb must go right here." "Get ready to run." "We've got 25 minutes." "Uh, 15 minutes." "Five minutes." "Six-h minutes?" "Hmm." "There's your problem." "The professor put the counter on upside down." "That idiot." "It wasn't set for 25 minutes." "It was set for 52 seconds." "We're going to die!" " Right?" " Right." "It's going to blow!" "Hey, watch it!" "You'll put somebody's eye out!" "Okay, okay, keep your space pants on." "I'll take care of this." "We're saved." "Yeah, but this garbage ball's unstoppable now." "New New York is done for." "All in all, this is one day..." "Mittens the kitten won't soon forget." "Kittens give Morbo gas." "In lighter news... the city of New New York is doomed." "Blame rests with known human professor Hubert Farnsworth... and his tiny inferior brain." "Oh, how could I have put that bomb timer on upside down?" "I could swear I followed... the manual precisely." "I'm a dried-up husk of a scientist." "This is all my fault." "No, it's my fault, too." "I'm sure I threw out... more than my share of that trash up there." "Also, one month, my toilet broke... and I just went straight in the garbage can." "Aw!" "Leela was right." "The people of the 20th century were idiotic slobs." "Especially me." "Enough." "You all failed miserably." "It's time to put a real scientist in charge." "Wernstrom!" "The very same." "Dr. Wernstrom, can you save my city?" "Of course, but it'll cost you." "First, I'll need tenure." "Done." "And a big research grant." "You got it." "Also access to a lab... and five graduate students... at least three of them Chinese." "All right, done." "What's your plan?" "What plan?" "I'm set for life." "Au revoir, suckers." "That rat." "Do something." "I wish I could, but he's got tenure." "Eww!" "It's time to take action." "Stephanie, cancel the maid for today." "Have her come tomorrow." "Well, I'm out of ideas." "Anyone?" "Wait." "If we could build an object... the exact size, density... and consistency of the garbage ball... it might just knock the ball away... without smashing it to bits." "But where can we find a substance... the exact density and consistency as garbage?" "Alas, I don't know." "Uh, what about garbage?" "Good lord!" "A second ball of garbage." "That just might work." "But garbage isn't something... you just find lying in the streets of Manhattan." "This city's been garbage-free for 500 years." "Well, then it's time to make some more." "Make garbage?" "But how?" "Stand back and watch the master." "This slurm can... now it's garbage." "These papers... garbage." "This picture of your wife... pure garbage." "Now you try it." "By God, I think the boy's got something." "Come on, everyone." "The fate of the city's at stake." "Good." "Don't finish that cruller." "Throw it away." "Bender, drink that beer... and drop the bottle on the ground." "Very nice." "Get that robot some more beer." "Hmm?" "We've trashed this room... but that's just a start." "We've got to get Fry's... message to the people." "People of New New York... take a lesson from the 20th century... stop all this pain-in-the-ass recycling... and throw your garbage on the floor." "Go ahead, just chuck it any old place like I used to." "Your city is counting on you." "If my calculations are correct... this garbage ball will knock the other garbage ball... directly into the Sun." "And if my calculations are correct... we're all going to die horribly." "All right, places, everyone." "Prepare for launch." "Five, four, three, two... three, four, five, six..." "Just fire the damn thing." "Oops." "Burning garbage." "It worked!" "And so, on behalf of the entire city..." "I thank you, Professor Farnsworth." "I now present you with the academy prize... which we confiscated from Dr. Wernstrom... after it became apparent that he was a jackass." "Yes!" "In your face, Wernstrom!" "I'll get you, Farnsworth... even if it takes another hundred years." "And, Fry, we owe you a tremendous debt as well." "Were it not for your 20th-century garbage-making skills... we'd all be buried under 20th-century garbage." "Should we really be celebrating?" "I mean, what if this second garbage ball... returns to Earth like the first one did?" "Well, who cares?" "That won't be for hundreds of years." "Exactly." "It's none of our concern." "That's the 20th-century spirit." "# We'll meet again #" "# Don't know where #" "# I don't know when #" "# But I know we'll meet again #" "# Some sunny day #" "# Oh, keep smiling through #"