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