Brett Kavanaugh's younger persona reminds me of my high school bullies. Overconfident, dickish, crass, as only bros can be. "100 Kegs or Bust!" They hounded me for several classes from sophomore to senior year, breaking my wood projects and vandalising my things until I reported them and the abuse abated. The animosity had been racist (the usual ching-chong, pulling back of the eyes), but the boys happily described their abuse as sexual harassment, for it lent them more power, access to some higher echelon of masculinity. As adults, they've probably attained positions of power—someone's manager, teacher or judge—and I wonder if they ever became better people. Probably not. Boys will be boys, so goes that underexamined tautology, reeking of entitlement and social complicity.





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