He snarls in response to his wife’s request that he drive their daughter to soccer that soccer is “Europe’s covert war for the hearts and minds of America’s kids.”

Tells a kid named Kyle that he has a good “man’s name,” only to be crushed when he learns it’s the kid’s mother’s maiden name. (Side note: If you’re going to have your tradition-masculinity-obsessed hero talk about what is and isn’t a good man’s name, I’m not sure “Kyle” is the best example.)

Says he likes where he works because it “smells like balls in here.”

Laments boys who play soccer and use hair gel.

Doubles over in agony about his daughter’s boyfriend going to a tanning salon.

Laughs hysterically at the idea that his wife could drive his truck for a day and he could drive the minivan.

Encounters a weak, “unmanly” day care provider who doesn’t let him call his grandson “champ” because it “implies victory over another person.” Said unmanly man invites Mike to meet another kid’s “two dads” who are inside making flax and pumpkin muffins. “Please tell me that’s not [the dads’] names,” says Mike.

Directly after hearing about the “two dads,” is asked to take his shoes off because they’re “building a mosque out of pillows.” When he hears this, he grabs his grandson and grabs him from the daycare and runs.

Tells his daughter that her son can’t go to that daycare anymore, because he’ll wind up “dancing on a float,” which Allen follows with an imitation of, I guess, a gay man dancing. He adds, “The only time men should be dancing is when people are shooting at their feet.”

“I’m not an ATM. You know how I know? I only speak English.”