Dear Douche Bags

Dear Douche Bags:

Many of you know that I wrote an article on Bros last year. This touched a nerve with a couple of our security-selling Broheims. This article is not attacking bros, so no need to organize after your Bro-mitzva, call the Brogun and start watching me on your Bro-Cam. This is about those of you who are even worse, the leaders of the pack, if you will.

This is for those of you who pretend to know how to sea-walk at every dance you have ever been to while holding your popped collar. For those of you who love being skins in pickup sports when no team is designated as skins. For those of you who know how to alter your pictures with photoshop (admirable), but use it to make your abs and arms look bigger in your facebook profile picture. Stop. Enough is enough. After your girlfriend breaks up with you, you don’t need to freak out at her, run down the street, and then run back, repeat, and then get down on your knees and beg her to get back with you. You look ridiculous. Really, this is a message of love. Your parents have called and asked that I do this – you wouldn’t want them to stop paying your rent. I know, most of you made a million dollars last summer, but yet  you still need help when rent time comes around. We know that you think we are just jealous of your 1997 Honda Accord with that sweet new spoiler, but we just aren’t, so seriously, stop. Do all of us a favor. Please, for goodness sakes, stop starting every sentence with the word bro.

It’s okay if you want to take small steps; here are some good ones to start with. I know it’s hard. First, try to go the gym and pretend like you are actually there to exercise, not just going to pick up on the brogina. Second, remember that being known as Shirtless Chad is not a compliment. Third, keep in mind that just because you bought your polo at Banana Republic doesn’t give you the right to wear three of them at the same time – it’s still not classy. Fourth, be aware that just because you watch Spike, doesn’t mean you can pretend that you actually have been dirt biking. Fifth, it’s okay in December to stop wearing flip flops with pants – we know you are from California, you told us seven times in the last 10 minutes; we get it. Lastly, while the backwards Tarheels hat is fantastic, I doubt you even know what college it represents, and if you do, I doubt you could point out the geographic location on the map. Dear douche bags, save yourselves.  

Your loving friends and family

2 Responses to "Dear Douche Bags"

  1. Your Mom   October 2, 2009 at 8:19 pm

    Did you get beat up by a bro?

  2. 2 Kewl   October 5, 2009 at 4:01 pm

    Ha ha how ironic that the first reply is totally from someone who embodied every single trait listed in the article. Proof that Dave’s writing was 100% accurate. Sorry “Your Mom” if the surprise of reading this article caused you to spill Muscle Milk on your Afflicted shirt. Life is rough.


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