Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

You're a chicken, intern.

Well then they'll just have to take turns.

I'm wondering what to pack.

He's all set to go to Hooterill.

I'm a father image to them.

He says he'll get me for alienation of affection, a breach of promise, a bigamy, fraud, and something called a trolley-nolley dictum.

I know this camera can't take no picture of the inside of that bear.

We have two more love letters to mail to our fiancée, Jethro.

What do you mean?

Yeah, Dad, I don't feel like I'm imposing when I ask you to do it again.

Sounds to me like it's you they want, Mr. Drydale.

Wait a minute, Jed.

Did you break up the employee demonstration?

Try me on another one.

I for sure ain't gonna hold down no drunk bear.

Oh yes, well you see, every Christmas I burn all the widow's mortgages.

Oh, you enjoyed it, did you?

Now listen, you little goomer, you give me my letter, or you and me is gonna play cowboy and Indian, and the Indian is gonna win.

Maybe you can find out what he wrote.

Now, Granny, before you get your hopes up too high, you reckon them fragrances could be on account of Sam writing his letters on butcher paper?

Oh, I can't control with these anymore.

I just can't wait no longer.

This is bound to be a proposal.

Granny, are we going to Hooterville for Christmas?

Now turn on the switch.

You got me, you got Fairchild, and you got this beautiful present.