Two two, three Forty Percent Leadbelly (whooshing) (static, trilling) (whooshing) _ Planet Express Discount Prisoner Transfer at your service.
Take a good look, Dr.
Brutaloff.
This prison is where you'll be spending your 300-year sentence.
Yeah, until you're defrosted and wake up refreshed, unaware of any time having passed.
He he heard you! Oh, please.
It's probably just the carbonite thawing slightly.
Take him down to processing while I stay here and get hooted at.
(whirring) Ooh, yeah, baby! Oh, stop.
Fry, look! That's Silicon Red, the universe's greatest folk singer! There's your wallet, your guitar, and your gun.
You're free to go.
Ah, still cocked.
So, he's a folk singer.
So what? So what? Have you forgotten my lifelong dream of being a folk singer because I sure have until right now.
Silicon Red! Silicon Red! (panting) Hey, I have a lifelong dream too.
Of not being left alone with a frozen supervillain.
(screams) Don't try anything, Dr.
Brutaloff! I know karate.
Aye-hyah! (guitar playing) Then I shot him and stabbed him and stole all his gold And I tried on his face while his body turned cold Lovely.
Just lovely.
New topic.
Can I have your autograph, and also you tell me everything you know about folk singing, and I'll take your guitar too? Old Salmonella? Son, I ought to kill you for asking.
We met doing hard time on a Mississippi chain gang.
And she'd been with me through 30-odd convictions.
a bungling lowlife.
Anyhow, about the guitar.
(clicks) Aw, come on! I can't be a famous folk singer without a cool guitar.
Can I at least get a photo? And before you answer that (laughs) Now I'll just have someone duplicate your guitar.
Thanks, sucker.
(laughs) You're the sucker, sucker.
See with all Salmonella and me been through, her sound is unique.
All your fancy technology will never be able to copy this guitar.
BEELER: Using my fancy technology, I can make an exact copy of this guitar.
Tell me, Dr.
Beeler.
- Will I need to threaten you? - Not at all.
You see, nowadays we can take a unique and beautiful object, and easily reduce it to a formula for mass production.
I call the process "science.
" I'll just need to locate that guitar image on your file system.
(giggles) Whoa, that's a lot of porn.
Where'd you store the guitar picture? I don't know.
I mainly hang out in here.
Ah-ha, your folk singing folder.
I'll just double-kick on that.
(grunts) Got it.
Now I'll convert that guitar image to a wire-frame model.
There, like so.
And send it wirelessly to my 3D printer.
(beeping) By laying down layer after layer of nano-plastic, it can turn your wildest dreams into ordinary reality.
Witchcraft! Sorcerer! Neat.
So, how long will it take? Four or five hours.
Shall we adjourn to the porn folder? I call my new guitar Bender Mae because Bender may be the greatest folk singer of all time! It looks pretty authentic.
You bet it's authentic.
See this scratch? I tell people she got it while I was doing hard time with a New Hampshire chain gang.
FRY: I have a scratch too.
From where Dr.
Brutaloff slashed me with his finger knives, right after he thawed out of his carbonite, and right before he froze me in his carbonite because you deserted me.
(groans) BENDER: Eh, you're always getting frozen in stuff.
It's your thing, man.
Bender, you're not a folk singer just 'cause you have a guitar.
And a flannel shirt.
I claim I won it in a knife fight at J.
Crew.
It must be interesting to win a knife fight.
I wouldn't know.
The point is do you even know any actual folk songs? (scoffs) Actual folk songs are all public domain.
Where's the money in that? I'll just make up my own.
But, robot, you can't just make up folk songs like you can a medical diploma.
They have to come from the heart.
Wrong again, Zoidberg.
While you were yakking, I downloaded every folk song in the universe and analyzed them.
They're only a few basic patterns.
For example work on a railroad and are named "Big" something.
Next slide, please.
have bad-hearted women who done them wrong, usually with a smooth-talking rambler.
There's a lot more, but in the end, somebody kills somebody, blah, blah, blah.
Somebody kills somebody, blah, blah, blah Catchy.
Not what I meant, but don't perform it without my permission! Anyway using this simple formula, I can generate as many hit folk songs as I want.
All I need is an audience.
And that's where Silicon Red comes in.
(folk guitar playing) (coughs) Man, all this corncob pipe smoke is irritating my stab wounds.
MAN: Ladies and gentlemen, I'm proud to present, fresh from another down-home authentic prison term, the universe's greatest folk singer, Silicon Red! Thank you.
Silicon Red, everyone.
(applause) (Silicon Red grunts) I'm Ramblin' Rodriguez, the new greatest folk singer ever.
And I'm gonna sing my new masterpiece, "The Ballad of Me, Ramblin' Rodriguez.
" Well My bad-hearted woman loved a smooth-talking gambler So I ran him over with my train Lord, Lord, yes, I Ran him over with my train! That name again is Ramblin' Rodriguez.
(crowd boos) Why are they booing me, Silicon? 'Cause your song was insincere, boy.
Now, get out and don't come back till you've lived a life worth singing about.
Yes, sir.
_ And don't go to prison.
That's my shtick! I failed at my lifelong dream again.
How can I be so bad at everything I try and still be so great? Bender, you have a lovely baritone, and you sure can strum that plastic guitar, but you can't write a real folk song about experiences you haven't had.
Yeah, you should write a song about a heartless robot who leaves his best friend to be murdered.
Look, Leela, I'd love to write about my own experiences The heartless robot is Bender.
The best friend is me.
How can you people be so blind? But I've never picked cotton or been on top of Old Smokey or worked on anything all the livelong day, let alone a railroad.
Then go live among the railroad men, why not? You'll come to understand them, just as I now understand the ape-men of Earth.
As stupid as Zoidberg's idea is it's brilliant when I have it.
I'm off to the railroad to become a folk singer.
(humming) Uh, I'm looking for the wrong side of the tracks.
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