is tits! Hank: Well, sure. H.E.L.P.eR. looks like a dried-out turd on a bad stretch of road. Hank: What's your problem with our dad anyway?! The Monarch : (awkwardly) Well, I- he- he's my nemesis. My archenemy. Dean: I don't think pop thinks you're his archenemy. The Monarch: Come on, I'm sure