Let me make a suggestion.
If you are fifteen and learning how to drive, angst-ridden for no good reason and straining to distance yourself from your parents who “just don’t understand you,” you need to remember that everything you say can and will be used against you. Your intellectual parry-and-thrust is less impressive than you think.
After you do a roll-through stop turning from Shackleford onto Granny White Pike and after your father tells you to pull over, “That’s enough for today,” and after you yank the Suburban over onto the shoulder and get out and slam the door, please oh please if you know what’s good for you don’t yell the following:
“You think you’re a good father just cos you take me fishing once a year.”
Rather than get angry as you had hoped, your father—now in the driver’s seat—will look at you for a fraction of a section before bursting into laughter. Your mother and two sisters, who are riding in the back seat, will do the same.
Rather than make these foolish mortals feel the hot blast of your wrath, you have just logged another entry in the family quote book, an entry that will bring joy to audiences for years to come.
Keep such retorts to yourself. I can promise you that they’re not nearly as stinging and bullet-proof as you think.
In fact, you’ll be better off if you just keep your stupid adolescent male mouth shut. Put it all in a journal.