Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

In the pocket. Some gnarlies out there.
Keep it cool, Lois.
I hear you, Doctor. So...
Dad, why don't your checks have any writing on them?
Uh... when a mommy and daddy love each other?
My misguided carnal instincts are the result of being raised by a sexual deviant.
Anyway, you're free to go.
Oh, that's okay. I'll just take the school bus.
I'd rather rot in jail than sit here and listen to all your crap!
I'm concerned about Pax, Maddox, and Shiloh.
They've been raised with 11 languages, and really don't speak any.
"You're great."
Helping my son is the most Christian thing I could do.
Mr. Quagmire, wait!
You... you're kidding!
Anyway, now I gotta go in front of a judge.
* Art, Bob, Chet, Don, Ed, Frank, Gus *
Aah! Meg, I'm injured! Please help me! I smell gas!
It is?!
* Happy Birthday to you *
That's right. And there's not even a defense for statutory rape.
It's gonna cost several hundred dollars to repair.
I don't want to go to jail, but I really want to take credit.
- Hi. What can I do for you? - Yes, I was wondering,
Why don't your shelves have any trophies on 'em?
you're saying we should give them all faux-hawks?
Eh, not as weird as his karaoke phase.
Oh, I hear you, Quagmire.