Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

- You ain't giving them shit. - Why not?
He did?
Jackie, you might be a candidate for clinical trials.
They're called Hasidim.
Why they'd schedule SATs the same week...
Do you have a daughter, Mr. Soprano?
So get out of here.
Not in the car! Please! Not in the car!
Yeah.
Sure. I'm the only one who has to go to work.
From what you're saying, it doesn't sound good.
So, please, don't embarrass yourself any further. Just leave.
But Jackie...
Bye.
Carmela, what I'm trying to say is, stop worrying about me.
What do you mean?
- My pleasure. - Have a seat.
You're mud. Godless clay!
I want to go to Berkeley so bad.
Let's call the cops. Those guys killed Hector.
His son-in-law will not give his daughter the consent...
It's okay. It's a private party.
It's next to something vital.
Sure. Wow.
...or what you're talking about.
Yeah, I know, but I gotta go.
Get the Fuck aata hea
This Christopher Moltisanti.
Carm, you did not have to do this.
Nothing much.
And the old tree all rotted out inside.
Maybe he's willing to go to the world to come...
What do I know? I'm not a doctor.
He still has every last hair on his head.
It was just him and that fucking cancer.
That's a brilliant idea.
What kind of cancer?
Look, I know him since before I had hair on my pitzl. I made this place.
We still have six more chapters left.
Hi, Jack. Bye, Jack.
Damn!
Orginalet Madonna
What's your problem, Hil?
You got money?
You can't let her go to Jefferson Avenue. They'll sell her Ajax.
The mystery of God, or whatever you want to call it...
Say hello to Freddy, all right?
...under that hotheaded son of yours?
Good.
Shlomo is an arrogant, ignorant control freak.
There's 37 definites. We got another 13 maybes...
Yeah, right. Hunter needs it.
Those junkie fucks work for Tony.
I saw this one.