Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Now listen to me, Sonny.

That's the Clampett girl, Ellie May.

It's something sweet.

Vassar, Wellesley, and Smith.

Who is what, dear?

Said, California's the place you ought to be.

But my dear, I haven't finished the genealogical check of their family tree.

It did good, ain't it?

Jethro, hand out the pot passers and the meat stabbers, and let's get at it.

The color may not be right, Mother, but I sure dig that crazy container.

How do you reckon the folks that lived here before us passed things?

He's expecting you to call this afternoon.

But mind me, we're having five for a Thanksgiving meal.

Sometimes that drives them wild.

And then he goes to carefully, little at a time, scooching down to where he's within reaching distance of the girl.

Swimming pools, movie stars.

How'd you know?

But Mr. Drysdale says his boy will be just happy to come a-courtin' Ellie.

I have never submitted to a blind date before, and I refuse to do it now.

There's been plenty spilled on the table, though.

You've never done that before.

Sure, but I ain't never even seen him.