I love the Onion
Bro, You're A God Among Bros
By Zach Caldwell
September 5, 2007 | Issue 43•36
You know you're one of my top bros, bro, because you got my back. And
I got yours. You're my bro. But you went above and beyond the other
night, bromaldehyde. You really did. Saving me that seat at the
Velvet Revolver show, even though all those other bros were
trying to get up front, bro? So clutch.
You are truly a god among bros. Just when I think you're as solid as
a bro can get, you raise the very definition of brodom to new heights.
You're like a brogle, soaring to the farthest reaches of the
atbrosphere. Seriously. If it weren't for you and your extreme
brobility to hook a bro up when it is most croosh, I'd have been stuck
in some bitch-ass seat, cramped all in the corner with a bunch of
bitch-asses, bro. But you stepped up. You
brovercame all obstacles to help a bro out. This is the kind of shit
that makes bros for life.
Brody, I was so stoked when you told Gina to go eat a fat one after
she asked if she could have your other ticket, even though you knew
you could probably get a pretty deese HJ from her. Bros before hos,
bro. That's what I'm talking about.
You are the king of all bros. Brotankhamen. You are the Ayatollah
Bromeini. You are Broseidon, lord of the brocean. But this is just
one of many times you've fallen on a grenade for me, brozo. Who took
the blame when I broke Skeeter's bong and fucking Skeeter was all
fucking pissed? You, bro. Who was the first to bro up and carry that
fucking keg of Killian's up four flights of stairs for Duke's surprise
party? You, bro. Who was
the only Bromo sapien on the planet to tell me he thought the
brand-new rims on my F-350 were the shit even though everyone else was
all, like, fucking not that excited about them? Bro, you know it was
you. You're my broheim supremo, bro, and don't you ever forget it.
I'm so fucking glad we're bros, bro! I've long admired your absolute
broficiency in all
things bro-related, and the way you've always carried yourself in a
brofessional manner. I consider you a brole model. When I was new in
this town, you took me under your wing and showed me the bropes. And I
will always preesh that. Not only did you school me in
proper brotocol, but you were a spiritual leader, a confidant, and,
more importantly, a bro. You taught me how to be true to my inner bro
and to bros around me. You are a real bro. Not a fake bro, like those
other douches. I hate fake bros, bro. Faux breaux. Fuck
that. No, really, bro…you're practically a bro-ther to me.
Look at you, blasting in like Rambro and firing off your launcher like
nobrody's business, bro. Serious Brotosaurus Rex action. Brodius
Maximus. I'm not big on labels, but you, more than any of the wiggers,
bitches, goth chicks, dorks, homos, or Mexicans I know, are absolutely
beyond rebroach.
In fact, your brotitude is so brossential that, in many ways, you are
the ultimate brototype: You sprung out of the brotean ooze at the very
broment of creation, unformed, unmolded, and became the ultimate bro,
more powerful than any who came brofore. I don't fear your power, bro,
but I respect it. And I will always brobey it.
Brosemite Sam. Potassium Bromide. Brobi Wan Kenobi. Brover Norquist.
Like Broseph Stalin, you are leading the way to the dictatorship of
the broletariate. It is truly revbrolutionary. Like the Bro v. Wade of
our generation. You brobliterate the enemy from the very peak of Mt.
Brolympus. That's some shit. That's brolific. But that's the kind of
bro you are.
Bro-S.A.! Bro-S.A.! I'm so pumped right now! Bro-S.A.!
You are the epitome of bro, in every brossible way, and that's the
Bro's honest truth, bro. I may have a bropensity for broverstatement,
but this no mere hyperbrole: You are 100 brocent, absbrolutely the
broest. Brotally.
I wish I had the words to describe what a good friend you are, dude!!
By Zach Caldwell
September 5, 2007 | Issue 43•36
You know you're one of my top bros, bro, because you got my back. And
I got yours. You're my bro. But you went above and beyond the other
night, bromaldehyde. You really did. Saving me that seat at the
Velvet Revolver show, even though all those other bros were
trying to get up front, bro? So clutch.
You are truly a god among bros. Just when I think you're as solid as
a bro can get, you raise the very definition of brodom to new heights.
You're like a brogle, soaring to the farthest reaches of the
atbrosphere. Seriously. If it weren't for you and your extreme
brobility to hook a bro up when it is most croosh, I'd have been stuck
in some bitch-ass seat, cramped all in the corner with a bunch of
bitch-asses, bro. But you stepped up. You
brovercame all obstacles to help a bro out. This is the kind of shit
that makes bros for life.
Brody, I was so stoked when you told Gina to go eat a fat one after
she asked if she could have your other ticket, even though you knew
you could probably get a pretty deese HJ from her. Bros before hos,
bro. That's what I'm talking about.
You are the king of all bros. Brotankhamen. You are the Ayatollah
Bromeini. You are Broseidon, lord of the brocean. But this is just
one of many times you've fallen on a grenade for me, brozo. Who took
the blame when I broke Skeeter's bong and fucking Skeeter was all
fucking pissed? You, bro. Who was the first to bro up and carry that
fucking keg of Killian's up four flights of stairs for Duke's surprise
party? You, bro. Who was
the only Bromo sapien on the planet to tell me he thought the
brand-new rims on my F-350 were the shit even though everyone else was
all, like, fucking not that excited about them? Bro, you know it was
you. You're my broheim supremo, bro, and don't you ever forget it.
I'm so fucking glad we're bros, bro! I've long admired your absolute
broficiency in all
things bro-related, and the way you've always carried yourself in a
brofessional manner. I consider you a brole model. When I was new in
this town, you took me under your wing and showed me the bropes. And I
will always preesh that. Not only did you school me in
proper brotocol, but you were a spiritual leader, a confidant, and,
more importantly, a bro. You taught me how to be true to my inner bro
and to bros around me. You are a real bro. Not a fake bro, like those
other douches. I hate fake bros, bro. Faux breaux. Fuck
that. No, really, bro…you're practically a bro-ther to me.
Look at you, blasting in like Rambro and firing off your launcher like
nobrody's business, bro. Serious Brotosaurus Rex action. Brodius
Maximus. I'm not big on labels, but you, more than any of the wiggers,
bitches, goth chicks, dorks, homos, or Mexicans I know, are absolutely
beyond rebroach.
In fact, your brotitude is so brossential that, in many ways, you are
the ultimate brototype: You sprung out of the brotean ooze at the very
broment of creation, unformed, unmolded, and became the ultimate bro,
more powerful than any who came brofore. I don't fear your power, bro,
but I respect it. And I will always brobey it.
Brosemite Sam. Potassium Bromide. Brobi Wan Kenobi. Brover Norquist.
Like Broseph Stalin, you are leading the way to the dictatorship of
the broletariate. It is truly revbrolutionary. Like the Bro v. Wade of
our generation. You brobliterate the enemy from the very peak of Mt.
Brolympus. That's some shit. That's brolific. But that's the kind of
bro you are.
Bro-S.A.! Bro-S.A.! I'm so pumped right now! Bro-S.A.!
You are the epitome of bro, in every brossible way, and that's the
Bro's honest truth, bro. I may have a bropensity for broverstatement,
but this no mere hyperbrole: You are 100 brocent, absbrolutely the
broest. Brotally.
I wish I had the words to describe what a good friend you are, dude!!