Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Thank God it got a hip transplant.
No, sir. But now we got us a mail order telemarket business:
- Infection. - Waiting to happen.
The radiator's split, the tranny's shot, the wheels are melted...
But you're turning to the right.
- Great. - By a man with a hook!
Frylock, you've gotta get that car fixed.
- That'll never work. - I know.
- He'd do me right. - Yeah, I bet he would.
You don't really need kidneys.
Just the fruits of victory.
Hell, no! I got my own wheels.
It's not Sunday, lady! Let's go!
But you're probably right. You won't sell any of this crap.
Wait a minute! What is this? What are you doing here?