This ain't your daddy's energy drink.
His mind is too small and weak to fully understand the smallest fraction of what this energy drink encompasses. It would literally be impossible for your daddy to drink this. The simple act of grasping this energy drink's skinny can would cause him to be overcome with waves of existential hurting. If he somehow withstood the pain and managed to get the drink to his lips, an invisible force would divert it away from his dumb slobbering mouth. This energy drink is daddy proof. It's patent pending.
This ain't your daddy's autograph.
Look at the loops. Look closer, dude. Those loops are hella controlled. I am a professional handwriting analyst and I am telling you that your daddy's loops are wild and sprawling. I've been examining your daddy's signature for years. My expertise cannot be denied. This is a forgery. Only one person in the world can do this. My arch-nemesis. Take this gun. Do you know how to use it? Because you're going to need it.
This ain't your daddy.
He's my daddy. Go find your own daddy. Scram! Go on, get! I'm throwing rocks at you and hooting like mad until you are well outside the perimeter I have established around my daddy. I am thumping my chest and roaring at the sky to dissuade all other slinking interlopers from trying to take my daddy as their own.
This ain't your daddy's library.
We've got all sorts of books up in here. Fiction. Non-fiction. Books with drawings of people holding swords and looking determined. We've got a shushing policy to keep people from being too loud. We have a filing system. If you need a book, we can put the name of that book in a computer and it will show up in this library within a few weeks.
This ain't Your Daddy's.
This is Your Grandaddy's. We sell little camouflage sleeves to people who want to hide their nasty ear gauge piercings but aren't ready to glue them shut. You need to head up the street and take the second left. Your Daddy's will be about a mile up the road. There's a big old sign out front with a chainsaw cutting through a screaming turtle. Can't miss it. If you see a sign with a chainsaw cutting through a smiling turtle, you've gone too far and need to turn around.
This ain't your daddy's Howard The Duck.
This is a Howard The Duck for a whole new generation. These kids have grown up with vague and unending wars on foreign soil, anti-intellectualism, gun fetishism, a perverse capitalist system, and open displays of contempt for non-whites, women, and the LBGT community. This Howard The Duck speaks to modern teens in a way that your daddy's Howard The Duck couldn't. This Howard The Duck is cgi and he has a blog.
This ain't your daddy's favorite brand of coffee.
It's the same packaging, of course, but we secretly replaced the coffee inside with decaf crystals. This has been going on for months. There's a hidden camera behind that mirror over there, one in the coffee maker, and one on your dog's collar. My name isn't really Emmanuelle. I'm special agent Jodie Caruthers. Look, this all started out as one big lie, but my feelings for you became quite real. Everything that mattered was real. I didn't expect it to happen. I never meant to hurt you.
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.