Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

They're musicians.
-Maybe he has money. -Maybe he doesn't.
That's a nice four seconds.
Everyone stay in your seats.
I try to take a vacation. I come back, the whole operation's in shambles.
-So? -Box of Raisinets eating...
You know... You'd have to fuck me
So, Jerry, if my investors don't get Cubans, the whole deal's off.
-Ma. -Helen, will you stop bothering him?
Here's your halibut omelet.
You don't like the new interface?
Who's she dating? Mr. Peanut?
-Where? -No, no, no, don't look.
To tell you the truth, Elaine.
George.
...except for one minor yet crucial detail.
Like a mustache or wearing a top hat...
Coming back to work after taking a week off...
No.
Yeah, I'm a little worried.
Musicians.
-Excuse me, please. -Oh, sure.
Then I'm going to Mars.
-Jerry Seinfeld, please. -You must be Kramer's guys.
I just don't understand the Raisinets.
Steve Floyd?
I admire your skills, Mr. Peanut.
All right, 7:30, got the place to myself.
Damn.
Your palate is unrefined
1850s?
You said you were busy tonight.
Well, that's why you gotta get real Cubans.
...so I couldn't tell you whether I liked it...
-Hi, Son. -Hi, Daddy.