Today, Netflix will premiered the 10-episode first season of Disenchantment, the new series by Matt Groening. Groening is best known, and will always be best known, for creating The Simpsons, which has aired roughly 8,000 episodes to date, and will no doubt continue on for centuries to come. Maybe even until the year 3000, where it will finally catch up with Groening’s other great animated sitcom: Futurama. If you end up binge-watching all 10 episodes of Disenchantment over the weekend, don’t worry, because all 140 episodes of Futurama are available to stream on Hulu right now, and we know those are great. If you’ve never seen Futurama, you’re in for a goddamn treat. And if you’ve already seen Futurama… well, you’re in for a goddamn treat.

Futurama follows Philip Fry, a dopey but good-hearted slacker who delivers pizzas for a living. On the cusp of the new millennium, Fry accidentally stumbles into a cryogenic tube and awakens 1,000 years later, in the year 3000. After introducing the key building blocks of this satirical take on the future of New York City—weird aliens, obnoxious robots, a bunch of chatty 20th-century celebrities whose heads have been preserved in jars—Futurama settles into an ideal blend of far-out sci-fi concepts and character-driven workplace comedy.

Nearly 20 years after its premiere, rewatching Futurama today makes it clear that it was far, far ahead of its time. Though it’s more episodic than serialized, little hints about the show’s overarching mythology are buried as early as the pilot—common now, but difficult to follow at a time when Fox would routinely air the episodes out of order for no particular reason. As Futurama built out its universe, it established a few key ongoing narrative threads—Fry’s love for Leela, the uber-capitalist nightmare of MomCorp, Fry’s unexpectedly key role in the future of the universe—while using the genre to play around with an ever-evolving cast of characters in a well-constructed but broadly satirical version of the future.

When it originally aired, that was the clever conceit at the heart of every good Futurama story: That a full millenium into the future—and despite the arrival of crazy technologies that could easily make things better—the world will just be a bigger, louder, and usually dumber version of what it is right now. If any part of Futurama has aged strangely, it’s that gag, because even a future with Nixon in the White House and a suicide booth on every corner is starting to feel a little optimistic.

You should really just watch it all—but if you want to cherry-pick, there are at least a dozen stone-cold classics in Futurama’s original 72-episode run on Fox. The tough part is picking a favorite. There’s the Emmy-winning "Roswell That Ends Well," a time-travel story overloaded with jokes and twists. There’s the legendarily gut-punching “Jurassic Bark,” which will reduce any non-sociopath to sobbing by the time the credits role. There’s the surprisingly sophisticated "Godfellas," which offers a philosophical treatise on the nature of God in a 22-minute package. There’s "Where No Fan Has Gone Before," a geek fever-dream of an episode that reunites the entire surviving cast of the original Star Trek for one last adventure.

And then there’s the Season Four finale "The Devil’s Hands Are Idle Playthings"—a dazzingly clever episode that unites much of Futurama’s ridiculously stacked bench of supporting characters for a story that climaxes, of all things, with a lengthy opera number. Even if it came sooner than fans would have liked, it was a beautiful ending for the series.