Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

I don't want to go to jail, but I really want to take credit.
Eh, not as weird as his karaoke phase.
In the pocket. Some gnarlies out there.
"You're great."
Mr. Quagmire, wait!
It's gonna cost several hundred dollars to repair.
That's right. And there's not even a defense for statutory rape.
- Hi. What can I do for you? - Yes, I was wondering,
I'd rather rot in jail than sit here and listen to all your crap!
Oh, I hear you, Quagmire.
* Art, Bob, Chet, Don, Ed, Frank, Gus *
Oh, that's okay. I'll just take the school bus.
I'm concerned about Pax, Maddox, and Shiloh.
Anyway, now I gotta go in front of a judge.
Dad, why don't your checks have any writing on them?
you're saying we should give them all faux-hawks?
My misguided carnal instincts are the result of being raised by a sexual deviant.
It is?!
Helping my son is the most Christian thing I could do.
Uh... when a mommy and daddy love each other?
* Happy Birthday to you *
Aah! Meg, I'm injured! Please help me! I smell gas!
Anyway, you're free to go.
You... you're kidding!
They've been raised with 11 languages, and really don't speak any.
Keep it cool, Lois.
I hear you, Doctor. So...
Why don't your shelves have any trophies on 'em?