Good news, everyone.
Tomorrow, you'll make a delivery to Ebola Nine, the virus planet.
- Why can't they go today? - Tonight's special.
I want you all to be alive.
It's the Academy of Inventors annual symposium.
- Wow! I love symposia! - The scientific event of the season.
Every member presents an invention.
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.
Jam your finger in the hole.
This readout tells you how long you have to live.
- Does it really work? - Sometimes it's off by seconds - what with free will and all.
- Cool.
How long do I have to live? Dibs on his CD player! A Big Piece of Garbage Oh, my, yes.
- Who's the nerd? - That's me at the first symposium.
I'm the Academy's oldest living member.
- These youngsters look up to me.
- Well, well, well.
Look who's showing his wrinkled face.
- Just leave me alone, Wernstrom.
- You're over the hill, Farnsworth.
Leave science to the 120-year-olds.
You think you know everything.
I invented things when you were barely turning senile.
Go home before you embarrass yourself, old man.
Now excuse me.
I'm taking a nap before the ceremonies.
Who's that jerk? He was my most promising student 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 100 years.
And here it is, slightly over 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 Par-Tay, and the '66 Thunder Chevitz.
Exquisite choices, sir.
And mix them all together in a big jug.
Welcome to this year's symposium.
I'm your host, Ron Popeil inventor of Mr.
Microphone, the Spray-on Toupee and the technology to keep heads alive in jars.
Wait, there's more.
We've got many inventors tonight starting with that up-and-coming young star, Ogden Wernstrom.
- Boo! - More wine! Distinguished members of the Academy, I present the Reverse Scuba Suit.
Observe.
Fetch! Now, sit.
I said sit! Bad fish! Don't worry.
It's no competition for your Death Clock.
What will you be presenting, grandpa? It'll put you young whippersnappers in your place.
I hope it's not as lame as last year's Death Clock.
- Last year? - That's right.
Oh, my.
- Did it put you youngsters in place? - Hardly.
We laughed until our teeth fell out.
Come along, Cinnamon.
I have to invent something new in the next 10 minutes.
Perhaps some sort of Death Clock! Uh, professor? - Very nice.
- Amazing! Our last presentation comes from our oldest member, Hubert Farnsworth.
Professor? Just a second.
Just a second.
Pencils down, prune-face.
Here I am.
Now, hello there.
We all know telescopes allow us to see distant objects but what if we want to smell those objects? Well, now we can.
Thanks to my new invention the Smell-O-Scope.
The odor travels past this coffee stain here.
Around the olive pit and into this cigar burn.
And this appears to be a doodle of myself as a cowboy.
But the Smell-O-Scope is brilliant! Think of the astronomical odors you'll smell, thanks to me! Oh, my.
I've waited 100 years for this.
I give your invention the worst grade imaginable: An A-minus-minus! Now for the presentation of the award.
I'm practically giving this away to Dr.
Wernstrom, for his fish thingy.
Perhaps 149 is just too old to be a scientist.
- Yep.
- No, professor! Don't give up! There were many times in my century when I never gave up.
Never.
Are you even listening to me? Oh, I give up.
By God, you're right! I'm going to build that Smell-O-Scope! Eureka! Did you build it? No, I remembered that I built one last year! Go ahead, try it.
You'll find that every heavenly body has its own scent.
Here, I'll point it at Jupiter.
- Smells like strawberries.
- Exactly.
And now, Saturn.
Pine needles.
Man, this is great! As long as you don't make me smell Uranus.
- I don't get it.
- I'm sorry, Fry.
Astronomers renamed Uranus in 2620 to end that stupid joke once and for all.
- What's it called now? - Urectum.
Here, let me locate it for you.
No, I think I'll just smell around over here.
What is it? Oh, jeez! Oh, man! Remarkable! A stench so foul it's right off the funkometer! Fry may have discovered the smelliest object in the known universe! Oh! Name it after me! I think it's moving.
Perhaps the computer can calculate its trajectory.
My God! It's headed straight for us! With enough force to reduce this city to a stinky crater! We have less than 72 hours.
Well, let's get looting.
This thing will destroy the whole city? What the heck is it? Just as I thought! The answer lies in this movie I found on the Internet.
New York City.
The year 2000.
The most wasteful society in history was running out of places to bury its never-ending output of garbage.
The landfills were full.
New Jersey was full.
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