Lisa: Can I go downstairs and see what Dad's doing?
Marge: I wouldn't bother him, honey. He's making some sort of model
for a contest. He says it's really high-tech stuff that we
wouldn't understand.
Homer: [opens basement door] Marge, do we have any elbow macaroni
and glue-on sparkles?
-- He's right, I don't understand, "Homer's Enemy"