[ Cheers and applause ]

[ Western music playing, laughter ]

-Oh, my gosh.

-[ Southern accent ] Go on -- Go on, git,

shovels.

You've been getting a free pass for far too long.

But it's time somebody says it like it is.

You're just big spoons for dirt.

Now, go on, git, and take your rakes with you.

We all know they're just ground combs.

[ Laughter and applause ]

♪♪

Go on, git, New Year's resolutions.

You're telling me I have to start eating more vegetables

just because the Earth spun all the way around the sun again?

Big deal, New Year's resolutions.

I'm going to say to you what the police said to me

when I drove my tractor on the highway

so I could get to Benihana before 5:00 p.m.

"Go on, git."

[ Laughter and applause ]

-Oh, no.

-Go on, git. -[ Laughs ]

-[ Chokes, coughs ] -You might have hay fever.

-Go on, git. This one splintered off a little.

Go on, git, $300 coffee makers they sell at Starbucks.

You know the only reason I'm at Starbucks

is 'cause I don't want to make my own coffee, right?

What's your end game here, that I buy one of those things

and never come to Starbucks again?

Boy howdy, that's a bad business strategy.

That's a 2%, no-foam, half-caff, triple-pump git!

[ Laughter and applause ]

♪♪

-I'm -- -Go on, git...

-God.

-...hockey pucks.

Y'all know you're just hamburgers I can't eat.

You can't fool me twice. Now, go on, git.

[ Laughter and applause ]

♪♪

Go on, git,

yogurts that spray a little yogurt when you open them up.

I shouldn't have to call in the yogurt bomb squad

every time I want to enjoy some Chobani

while riding my horse Chobani.

That's right, I named my horse Chobani.

No, not after the yogurt Chobani,

after my friend Terry Chobani.

Now git, spraying yogurt. Git.

-Terry --

-[ Spits ] [ Ding! ]

[ Spitting ]

-You named your horse Chobani?

[ Laughing ] Oh, my God.

-Go on, git,

baby pandas!

Nah, I'm just playing with you. You can stay.

I love you, baby pandas. Come on back.

I love you.

Go on, git, Hamburger Helper hand.

I sure do appreciate all that you do for ground beef,

but let's face it, you're an abomination,

an affront to nature. What are you, anyway --

an oven mitt that wished to be a real boy?

Makes me ill to think about you. I'd give you the middle finger

but you wouldn't even know what that is,

'cause you don't have one.

I hate you, Hamburger Helper hand.

I hate you. Git.

It's hard to see them go,

but I'm glad I got it out of my system.