Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Sterling' With a crazy straw-
Do you smell toast? Pam?
No, not ransom it, Cyril.
Anyhoo, the lead scientist is threatening--
Ha. I swear to God...
...continue to make such wildly liberal use of the bar.
Ahem. Hello, I'm Cecil Tunt. I believe you're in need of some assistance?
Dicknuts.
And that's how you ask? Cecil's, like, interviewing everybody.
Same question. Same answer.
But we're not speaking, so if you want a deep submergence whatever...
It's a reward. And maritime salvage law is very clear on the subject...
Then how are we supposed to beat anybody to a hydrogen bomb...
Because the B-52 was-- In the middle of the Bermuda Triangle.
With a KGB cyborg.
In the words of the immortal Jeremy Bentham--
Which also doesn't suck, obviously.
Yeah, if you're done yelling at me for no reason.
Because apparently it's going around. Because-- Shut up.
We're-- Look, semantics, whatever.
I have the most fantastic news.
...and how the hell are you gonna do that if Cecil gets it?
Oh, you're-- You're serious.
Last one.
The only American DSV is here in the Pacific.
Mm. Choke sex, that's her kink.
I know. It's hard to hear, but-- Ow!
That's not even how you make a Hairy Navel.
. “in the next-- Tick, took, tick. --12 hours.