Skip to main content

Why the Bro Code Must Go

Don't be hatin', bro!


Women do not need to be told that men are fond of doing irritating things, but there are some male behaviors which are so pathetically lame that even many fellow men find them to be annoyingly asinine.  One such behavior is the excessive use of brocabulary.

Fellas, it's time to put the Bro Code to rest.  Yes, we are all aware of your desperate need to hide your homoerotic feelings behind frat-friendly man-lingo (or bronacular, if you prefer), but much like Ted Danson's hairpiece, you're not fooling anyone.

For the uninitiated, let's explore the bro phenomenon.  What is a bro, anyway?  A bro is more than just a buddy or pal.  A bro is someone who will give you the shirt the right off his back...you know, the shirt that says "Free Breathalyzer Test" with an arrow pointing to the groin.  A bro is life-long friend who would give you a shoulder to cry on, but since bros don't cry, that's a moot point.  A bro will be there for you through thick and thin... as long as it doesn't cut into his UFC-watching time.  Because if there's one thing a bro likes, it's watching two sweaty men in shiny shorts grapple with each other.


How to identify a bromo sapien


The sacred doctrine of every bro is, of course, the Bro Code.  Since real men are born with an ingrained sense of masculinity, it stands to reason that the only ones who need to learn how to act like a man are men who are not really men at all.  Do you honestly think that John Wayne needed an instruction manual to be a man?  Or General Patton?  Or Gus Muldoon?  Of course not.

The Bro Code is less a code of ethics than it is a handbook for organized stupidity.  At it's core, the Bro Code is essentially a permit to act like a hormone-crazed knuckle-dragging fist-bumping idiot, as long as you are acting like a hormone-crazed knuckle-dragging fist-bumping idiot in the presence of other hormone-crazed knuckle-dragging fist-bumping idiots.  Acting like a hormone-crazed knuckle-dragging fist-bumping idiot by yourself is a clear violation of the Bro Code.  In fact, that type of maverick behavior is likely to cause your bro to break up with you, thus ending your bromance.

If you're still not convinced that being a bro is unmanly, here's something to think about, Hans Brolo.  Look at the biggest bro-fender in pop culture.  Many people credit Barney Stinson, the womanizing character portrayed by Neil Patrick Harris on How I Met Your Mother, for bringing the Bro Code to the mainstream.  Neil Patrick Harris, of course, is about as straight as a mattress coil.  Enough said.

A bro's head gets cold, bro.  Even inside of his man cave.


This revelation may be disheartening news for the typical bro, who might feel the need to go sulk in his man cave.  The man cave, after all, is the private lair of the bromo sapien.  In my day, a man cave was what we called the space between your mother's thighs.  Nowadays, the term is used to describe a woman-free sanctuary where men can spend time alone playing X-box while planning their next man-date.  While some may consider the man cave as the "last frontier of unhindered masculinity", I'm more inclined to believe that any space where women are not allowed has more in common with a Turkish bath, or some other place where a true man does not want to be.  Why?  Because real men like being around women.  Bros, on the other hand, prefer the company of other bros.  If this weren't true, the saying "bros before hos" would not exist.

Take it from me, Brohammed Ali.  A real man doesn't need a man cave because, well, that's what his whole house if for.  Except for the kitchen, of course.   

    

  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

How to Deal With Having an Ugly Baby

If you're the parent of an ugly baby, you've probably been asking yourself lots of questions ever since your bouncing bundle of shame came into this world. Questions like, "Is this some sort of punishment from God?", "Should I leave him in a dumpster?" or "How much can an ugly baby fetch on the black market?" These types of questions are perfectly normal. The only thing that's abnormal is being the parent of an ugly baby and acting like you have the cutest, sweetest, or prettiest baby in the world. That, my friend, is mental sickness.  When my oldest son was born, I was asking the same questions myself. I fell to my knees and raised my arms to the heavens, asking, "What have I done to deserve this?" In the delivery room, I pleaded with the doctor to put him back in because he didn't look quite done yet. When that didn't work, I waited until no one was looking and tried to swap him with a better-looking baby from the hos...

Mr. Peanut's Evil Plan to Kill Off Humankind

He secretly wants to kill you!       They just don't make them like they used to.  No, I'm not talking about automobiles or household appliances, I'm talking about human beings.  Unless you're one of those extreme fundamentalist whack-jobs, most of us believe that the human species has evolved over tens of thousands of years, successfully fending off lions and tigers and bears (oh my) in order to secure our coveted spot at the top of the food chain.  And now it appears that Mr. Peanut, dairy cows, and Wonder Bread are about to knock us off of our perch. I'm talking about food allergies, or more specifically, the sad-sack evolutionary weaklings who suffer from them.  Back in my day, food allergies were virtually non-existent, but here in 2012 it would seem that we have devolved into a pathetically brittle species incapable of ingesting something as simple as a peanut.  There can only be two explanations for this phenomenon- either pea...

Why I Don't Support Breast Cancer Research

I don't know about you, but I'm getting pretty darn sick and tired of all of this breast cancer awareness bullcrap.  Is there anyone out there who's not aware of breast cancer?  I find it hard to believe that some schmuck in Ashtabula is being handed a pink ribbon at this very moment and exclaiming, "Why, I never knew that women could get cancer in their boobies!"  But what really flips my jib is all of these 5Ks and marathons and mini-marathons and half-marathons, all with tongue-in-cheek names like the Ta-Ta Trot or the Jog for Jugs.  What's next?  The Million Melon March? My friends, if you believe that power-walking around the track of a middle-school stadium in your yoga pants is going to save lives, then you're about as bright as a mineshaft at midnight.  Think about it.  In any given town in any given year, there are a few dozen of these feelgood fun runs designed to raise money in order to find a cure for breast cancer.  For $25 a pop,...