It's The Futurama Holiday Spectacular brought to you by Ah, the Xmas season.
Who wants a delicious unshelled nut? Ooh, I'll have one.
It's "nut" so good.
What's wrong, Fry? Are you regretting another wasted year? I don't know.
Something about Xmas just doesn't feel like Christmas.
Santa's coming! Initiate defenses! God rest ye merry gentlemen in peace.
Can someone please explain how you celebrate this crazy holiday? Preferably in song.
It's the violentest season of the year When Kringle-bot come dispensing mugs of Xmas fear Sugar plummy visions will be dancing in your head When I cane you from the comfort of my sled On Xmas Eve, we don our gay apparel Kevlar vests, asbestos stockings and a barrel And if Grandma 's Xmas fruitcake finally reaches critical mass It can be re-gifted straight to Santa 's ass But the ornamental armaments are merely superficial The tinsel and the trappings are just icing on the missile The one thing that you need to make your Xmas Day splendiferous Is a pine tree A pine tree that's coniferous We have to have a pine tree that's coniferous You're welcome.
You know, Santa may have killed Scruffy, but he makes a good point.
What we need is an old-fashioned pine tree.
Cram it, Virginia.
Pine trees have been extinct for over 800 years.
Professor, maybe there's some way to bring the pine trees back to life.
Like we did with the barking snakes.
Pine trees aren't barking snakes.
They won't just turn up in a salad at Olive Garden.
But there is one hope and, as usual, it's Norwegian.
Behold! The Svalbard Global Seed Vault.
Since 2008, the vault has preserved seeds of every known plant species, in case of extinction.
And I brought a few seeds of my own.
Halt! What's your business pokey-poking about the seed vault? Guardian of mankind's precious botanical heritage there? We just want to come in and rummage about a bit.
Oh, so Okay.
Yo, ABBA, what's that next door? That's the Germ Warfare Repository.
It's so close.
Is there any chance of cross-contamination? No.
Now, your pine trees were all chopped down to make emergency toilet paper during the Fifty-Year Squirts.
Lucky the seeds have been preserved here in the vault there.
What's that splork on them? It's not germs, is it? No.
Now that's a tree worth chopping down.
Indeed, 'tis a lovely tree.
'Twill truly be my finest Xmas ever.
That's what my poll numbers need.
Happy voters enjoying some holiday cheer.
As your vice-president, I order you to steal that tree.
My fellow Earthicans, welcome to the annual White House Xmas-tree lighting, brought to you by Gunderson's Nuts.
Gunderson! Oh, no! Could the seed have been contaminated by a virus from the germ vault? Yeah, I suppose.
Wait.
This could be a good thing.
That weaponized virus made the sickly, little tree grow big and strong.
Wait.
This could be a good thing.
Reforestation has begun.
Geez, with these Arguably, this could be a good thing.
The planet has returned to its primeval state.
Earth is just the way it was before the white man came.
Good news.
All these pine trees are fighting global warming by producing oxygen.
- Happy now, Gore? - Yeah.
But I'd be happier if I had a set of lungs.
Wait a second.
Oxygen levels are rising too rapidly.
- As long as it doesn't hit 70.
- 80%.
You know, I don't recall having done anything for a while, but I still feel I deserve a smoke.
Hey, cool.
The air is on fire.
Ho, ho, ho.
Everyone's dead.
Stay tuned for another tale of holiday hilarity.
Now back to the Gunderson's Nuts Holiday Spectacular featuring Futurama.
Okay, crew.
Xmas break is over.
It's time to destroy these gifts we forgot to deliver.
Whoa, whoa, whoa! How come we get off for every dumb human holiday, but not for robot holidays? Oh, Lord.
Not Robanukah.
I'm talking about Robanukah, the holiest six and a half weeks in the robot calendar.
That's just a fake holiday you make up every year to get out of work.
Yeah.
If it's real, how come there's no song that explains how to celebrate it? Because there is.
- Hit it.
- Hit what? I placed instruments under your seats.
Play them or I'll break them over your heads.
Robanukah may sound as if it's Jewish But its ancient-sounding customs are exceptionally newish So take a hearty swallow from your robo-Kiddush cup Which will give me time to quickly make them up Do you spin a dreidel made from clay? Mine is called a droid-el and it's rigged to make you pay Do you eat these yummy, tin-wrapped chocolate coins? Better.
We got fem-bots with illegal five-speed groins Shalom, Ruth and Esther.
Why with the music so loud? Would it kill him to turn up the heat a little in here? By far, the most important thing is oil To keep the lamp light burning or to help the latkes broil No, we pour the holy lubricant out from this sacred vessel into this blessed pit so they can wrestle The extra made-up touch that makes Robanukah so special is the oil in which the nasty fem-bots wrestle We shall now begin the traditional oil wrestling.
Will the referee bring out the ceremonial cruse of petroleum oil? Thank you, Abraham.
Not in the hair, please.
I just had it did.
Oh, no.
These broads are supposed to wrestle for six and a half weeks, but there's only enough petroleum oil for four and a half weeks.
We're still getting paid, right? I told you it's an audition! Bender, four and a half weeks of oil wrestling sounds like plenty.
This isn't a lousy reform Robanukah.
We need more petroleum oil! I got me some whale oil, some squirrel oil.
Not kosher! It has to be petroleum oil! Do you not give a damn about the hallowed traditions of Robanukah? I reckon I do not.
Anyways, Earth done run out of petroleum oil.
I tried to warn you.
One unit of free, limitless solar power, please.
That'll be, I don't know, 10 bucks.
Can you make change for a Nobel Prize? Man, can't we just make more petroleum oil? I'm afraid not, son.
Petroleum only forms when organic matter is subjected to intense pressure for hundreds of millions of years.
I can't wait that long.
I've got ADD.
This is so unfair.
I don't wrestle dry, Bender.
I went to Vassar.
Professor, I want you to look these poor floozies in the eye and tell them their oil-wrestling days are over.
I suppose there could be a minute quantity of petroleum left, but it would be insanely deep within the Earth at pressures so dangerously high Let's go, already! Setting Bachman Turners to Overdrive.
We're getting pretty deep.
Look! Mole coffins.
Oh, no.
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