Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

A little rat called Sam the Collector.
Granny, supposin' you make some poultices for the Johnsons.
If that's the last I remember, Your Honor, those monsters crashing into us in an alcoholic stupor!
And I'll whop up a great big dose of retchweed tonic.
Yes, Mr. Clavin?
I object, Your Honor!
Now, you may proceed, Mr. Clampett, realizing, of course, that you're still under oath to tell the truth.
That's right.
Why didn't you answer it?
Well, have no fear.
Us?
Hearing no objection, I'll permit your defense.
Swimming pools, movie stars.
Fall down in there?