It’s the Birdiversary! It’s been a year since Larry Bird defied his father and kept the Zabvronians on Earth. His dad is still annoyed about all that, and he’s decided to send someone in to get things done. Larry’s preoccupied with proving to his father that he’s making the most of it, but Jackie feels neglected, and starts seeing a therapist. She’s got something on her mind, and she decides she must tell Larry.
Debbie and Marty’s bowling team is in the semi-finals. Debbie loves bowling! She’s also awful at it. The rest of the team tells Marty to kick Debbie off the team. She’ll be a liability in the finals. He agrees to tell her…and then uses every excuse he can think of to avoid the task.
Meanwhile, Dick, annoyed by the immature behavior of Max and Abby, rounds up Joel Stein, Lawrence O’Donnell, and Bill Nye the Science Guy for a roundtable on today’s hot topics. But are wet willies and farts really that bad?
Debbie: I see you also have a picture of Scott Baio. Because…?
Jackie: This is a gallery of Larry Bird’s favorite leaders. So we have Churchill, Genghis Khan, and of course, Charles, who was famously in charge.
Dick: Just me and the kids, wrestling with the big questions. Like, if you smelt it, are you in fact the one who dealt it? Riveting stuff.
Max: We’ll be in the new clubhouse.
Dick: It’s a salon! A place for higher thought!
Max: Last one there’s a rotten egg!
Abby: Rotten eggs smell like farts!
Dick: I need new friends.
Grandpa: If you are going to stay on Earth against my wishes, at least have something to show for it. Take over a small government. Get a tramp stamp.
Larry: We did two musical numbers.
Grandpa: Which almost no one saw.
Larry (under his breath): Got nominated for an Emmy.
Debbie: Oh, let’s go to bed. All this bowling talk has put me in the mood.
Marty: That is the first time that sentence has been said.
Dick: Next topic. Joel Stein…electoral college. Go.
Joel Stein: Um, can I get another juice box?
Dick: I am this close, Stein. Remember, you’re only here because Hawking demanded a ramp.