Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

I need McNulty on this detail.

When I get home at night, I just wanna watch a ball game or something.

Proposition Joe Stewart, and "White Mike" McArdle...

"Robert Johnson." You believe that?

Just give me a minute.

Truck him with your best punch and then just walk the fuck away.

-Boy needed to get schooled. -What are you, some kind of badass now?

I'd truck his ass, if it was me.

Do it. You're still here?

to some backwards-ass, no-count, out-in-the-districts...

Get back to your office.

-Surveillance? -That got us to the front door...

Meantime, I hear that our regular port cop, the one that found your girls...

Frappuccino? What the fuck is that?

-Excuse me. -Hey, pal.

Thanks, Lieutenant.

Thanks for the beer.

The chairman, he thought you'd be right for it, is all.

Putting two and two together, and coming up with six, maybe.

-Nothing on the docks. -No one we can buy weight with.

The shipbuilders' local goes belly-up, and that makes you some kind of martyr?

That's right. Keep walking, bitch.

Yeah. The way we just punked them, they got to.

where we tracked the suspect container.

Go on, go home.

Would we be police if we could?

Them things got lice.

If I'm no good for....

And don't give me that he's-got-that-fire- in-the-belly garbage, either.

10-4. Come home.

It's looking your kid in the eye that's the hard part.

That's fine. But now we're going to have to open the warehouse again.

-Took it while you was resting. -Y'all too late.

-Not now, Gus. I'm good. -Whatever you say, Jimmy.

We're rolling out there. I can't hand this shit off fast enough.

That's the Greek? That old guy? I seen him in here before.

She says it's on the computer when my account comes on:

I need to do a case.

-Take us up. -Son of a bitch! God damn it!

Sync'd by Mothman