Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

But there ain't no piani player.
Pardon me.
Howdy, Mr. Hudson!
Is that the end?
Folks, how did you like Sir Trevor?
Hold it.
No, I reckon not.
No thanks, Mr. Chapman.
Jim, did you see that hairy goomer with the high hat?
Whoa!
Said, California's the place you ought to be.
It's not that I'm mad, it's just that I don't seem able to make you understand what you are.
I blame myself for what happened, Mr. Clampett.
Whoa!
That's what I need.
You don't say!
Whoa!
Ta-ta.
Do you know what they're calling you here in Hollywood?
Well, I got to admire you for saying it to my face.
He's my nephew.
The kinfolk said, Jed, move away from there.
No hard feelings.
My name is Chuck.
Aren't you thrilled?
Well, frankly, I'd like some younger and prettier girls to work with.
We could name a salad after him and a commissary.
You're schnook again.
Whoa!
Whoa!
What does a movie producer do?
Whoa!
Mr. Clabbett, you now own a motion picture studio.
Now, Miss Jane, if I own the studio, I feel it's my bounden duty to go over there and take a good look around.
How would you like to be the first to see Rock Hudson and Dara stay together again after four years?
Mr. Drosdale telephoned from New York this morning.
Not enough business to even fill them.
You see, he's begging us to stay.
Whoa!
Alvin, I'm amazed at you.
Waving like Morse on a windy day.
Just charge whatever you think is fair.