... you wouldnt even return our calls until 1783. But we get along at holidays, visit when the wife lets you play. Youre our silly older brother. We beat the shit out of you, but we still needed that chick with the hairy armpits who lives across the street from you to help us. Its all water under the bridge now (the washington OR london bridge, amirite boys?) Cant we just get along and complain about muzzies, dizzy dame feminists and horrendous soul crushing "humor"?