Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Why the hell haven't you written, you little ingrate?
- Hi, Mom. - My God, it's Michael. Michael.
I got a call for a gig in New Orleans.
Rose, I meant let them get dressed in private.
Look what you've done. I hope you're proud of yourself.
Do you think you could just love me for that?
Oh, sorry.
"You can lead a herring to water
So I suggested they take 'em.
Oh, it was.
What do you think? I'm in mourning.
I don't even see my hand in front of my face.
I want you to meet my friend, Blanche. Blanche, Michael.
Oh, my God.