Michael Kyle longs for a traditional life, but his day-trader wife Janet, gangsta rap-worshipping son Michael Jr., and brooding daughters Claire and Kady make his dream just that ... a dream.

Michael Kyle: You getting high?
Michael Kyle, Jr.: No.
Michael Kyle: Why not?
Michael Kyle: [referring to rap groups] They don't even sing anymore, they just say - "You know the words. Sing along."
Michael Kyle: But all the music you listen to is full of cussing. Why don't you listen to Marvin Gaye? He never swore... well, until his father shot him.
Michael Kyle: Well, guess what Junior? You're from the mean streets of Stamford, Connecticut.

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