What?
You didn’t think all of these
would be serious, did you? Actually,
this is serious. Most of the profoundly annoying social
archetypes of the past half-century have thankfully died a merciful and natural
death. We no longer (for the most) have
to suffer greasers, hippies, valley girls, grunge rockers, the emo or the
prep. The truth is that the mania
surrounding these short-term personality fads dies as quickly as it rises – as
everyone gets a hold of a mirror and some real friends and collective asks
“what the hell were we thinking?” However,
on a recent gym visit, I came face-to-face with a living, breathing meme, and
realized that one of my least favorite modern social characters had not quite been written out of the show. Yes, the bro is back... or perhaps more
accurately, never left. So, here we are,
on the cusp of a historic election, a fourth industrial revolution and,
perhaps, even relative peace in Syria, and yet, we’ve enabled an entire subset
of citizens to walk around dressed as and acting like, their id.
But in case it’s not obvious, let me tell you why the continued existence of bros is profoundly dumb.
Field
Guide
So maybe you’re not sure what I’m talking
about. Well, aside from some brilliant
marketing from the folks at Organic Valley (https://goo.gl/BhCsL2), let me describe the pack [swarm?] I
recently encountered at the gym (a natural bro mating site). First of all, there are no sleeves, ever. According to bros, sleeves are just an
attempt to hide your “guns” (the bro word for “arm”), and bros never hide their guns.
Second, tops are tight, bottoms are loose – e.g. spandex shirts, and
oversized basketball shorts – because as any bro will tell you, your junk’s
gotta breathe... you know? Also, everything matches, because nothing
attracts eligible females like color coordination... right? Further, bros are always telling great jokes.
How can you tell? Because they’re
always laughing at each other! Ha! Look at those bros slapping and poking each
other! So manly! Finally, when bros lift weights, everyone needs to pay attention, so no
matter what they’re lifting they let out a primal scream, like a gorilla ... being
killed by a bigger gorilla… with a chainsaw.
Other telltale signs include, visible
tribal tattoos, backwards snap-back ball caps, clothes from a nutritional
supplement store, spandex leggings underneath basketball shorts, a personalized
weight belt worn during the entire
workout, large, colored, studio-style headphones (ever worse if they match
the outfit), sweatbands and the proverbial (and perennial) gallon jug of water.
Still
Here After All These Years
So… how have these creatures survived?
After all, American culture has a long and broadly-enforced tradition of
mercifully killing our own ill-advised style trends (seriously, when is the
last time you saw a “hippy”? … not counting Coachella). Well, the answer my friends, is blowing in
the winds… we’ve actually become over-tolerant. I know, I know, I’m the last person who should be using the “slippery slope” trope – but,
because I’ve debunked it so many times, I’ve actually become qualified to use it. Because that’s what’s happened – we’ve gotten
so carried away with moral relevance that we forgot how to stop. In other words, we are addicted to letting people do
whatever the hell they want, no matter how insanely stupid it may be.
To be clear, I am not talking about tolerance of immutable or even arguably immutable
traits. The wondrous new American trend
of publicly accepting and legally accommodating historically oppressed classes
of citizens is something of which we should all
be proud (even if we do have to
endure the ever-present shouting of the increasingly ignorant, obstinate and
marginalized “religious right”). But
even given the vast array of human opinion, there is literally no one who believes that bros are born
and not made. With that revelation comes two important
realizations: first, that we can rage
against these keepers of the douchey flame, without remorse or concern, but
second, that we made them, and
therefore have no one else to blame but ourselves.
Make
or Break
So, with the uncomfortably epiphany that
we’ve actually created and perpetuated the bro… what can we do to
destroy them? It’s actually quite
easy. We simply have to speak up. Look, I know what you’re
thinking. In an era of politicians who
suborn ignorance with such vigor that thoughtful criticism only strengthens their support, I can
understand why you may be skeptical of any
effort to employ reason, empathy or just basic humanity to combat stupidity.
But here, we actually have a
chance – because we know what bros want, and that makes all the
difference.
You see, bros want… no, need, chicks. NOTE - Before any feminists fire up their Twitter/Facebook/Instagram
rage machine, I’m not talking about all women
with that derisive term – rather, I’m talking about the female counterpart to
the bro (which I’m sure you’re familiar with, and will address in detail in a
separate piece). The problem is that chicks don’t like bros – and bros have no idea. And here’s where we can help – surprisingly enough,
using advice from the Department of Homeland Security. No, bros don’t represent a national security
threat (yet)… but the same advice that stops terrorism also stops bro-ism: if
you see something, say something.
* * *
You see, the natural enemy of bros (and
all inane social archetypes) are friends. Not the self-indulgent “other bro” enabling
entourage members – actual friends. You know, the kind of people who will
actually tell you when you’re
wearing, doing or saying something ridiculous?
I know they’re a far rarer breed than the bro, themselves, but that’s
what it’s going to take to fix them.
Because that’s what friends do – they speak up, even when it’s uncomfortable, actually, especially when it’s uncomfortable. I can’t save these bros, we are too demographically mismatched to become
friends. But I am recommitted to being honest with my friends – not just when I’m
proud of, inspired by or impressed with them, but also when I’m embarrassed,
ashamed or just plain confused by what they’re doing. Because in the end, the worst lie we can tell
to the people we care about is not saying anything at all, honesty is nothing
without candor and the bro-life you save just might be your own.
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