Fucking gave me Vietnam flashbacks to my own childhood. My younger brother was ruthlessly obnoxious and mean. Did his best to make me miserable as often as possible. Was I blameless? Nah. But did I ever do anything to him on the level of the shit he did to me? Hell no. He was borderline evil. And he didn’t just do shit to get a rise out of me, either. He tried every thing he could to get me in trouble, even if it meant he’d get in trouble, too.

We are both adults now. I don’t hate him any more, but I sure as fuck do not like him.