Before Yo-Daddy crawls off to the never-seen Salem Post office, perhaps there would have been a conversation that goes like this. Sami: Hey you creepy old wreck, John is a doodyhead. He ruined my life. I HATE him! Yo-Daddy: You hate my wonderful son all of whose blood I'm about to take? Sami: And I HATE you too. If you'd have watched your stoopid old black-and-white TV years ago instead of hitting the sheets with your sorry, doodyheaded wife , there never would have been a John Black! Yo-Daddy: What? Sami: You stink. You and your doodyhead son can't compare to my darling changed smoochy-moochy. I HATE you both! Yo-Daddy: Smoochy who? Sami: You doodyhead! Everyone knows it's my handsome, brilliant wonderful EJ, who's still alive somewhere! Yo-Daddy: What in the name of the Old Masters are you screeching about? John: Give it up, Dad. Nobody can win an argument with Sami.