Nathan says cockily, "Yeah, and I'm looking to top that this week." And just like that, Dan crushes the dreams of his sixteen-year-old son: "No, you won't." Nathan's face falls like a hundred-year-old tree in the rainforest -- a pointless kind of destruction. Dan continues, "You want to know why? 'Cause you're not tough enough inside. I got garbage buckets you'll never get 'cause you won't bang down low like I did." Nathan sighs; his air feels heavy because he's doesn't have any more trees protecting him from Dan's pollution. But Dan doesn't notice. He's too busy making his point: "That and your conditioning's for crap." Deb comes in to the kitchen. "I never left the floor during a game." Deb says tiredly, "Hey you guys." Nathan stands up and deadpans, "I'm happy, Mom. Dad loves me." And then he leaves. Deb asks what that was all about, and Dan has the absolute audacity to say, "He was wondering where his mother was." Deb whines, "Aw, don't start, Dan. I'm tired and I'm hungry." He bitches, "Oh, how about we eat first and then we argue." Deb: "How about we just don't argue." Dan says, "How about we just don't eat," and then walks out of the kitchen. Okay, so Dan treats his kid like he's a punching bag, then blames Deb when she's just walked in the door for Nathan's bad mood, and then proceeds to take his frustrations out on her -- wow, Dan's so well-adjusted, if he were a car, I'd drive him around the world. Not.