It was the middle of February and we were fucking sick of Winter. The entire East Coast had been covered for two months with like 3 feet of snow, which was apparently (according to fucking bro-haters) due to the fact that I #57 don’t recycle. We needed to get the fuck out and get our fucking drink on. So we signed up for a scavenger hunt that would take you around in a limo all day long. Sure on the surface this might sound like some fucking lame shotgun wedding bachelorrette party, but the important thing to note is that the entire hunt revolved around getting fucked up, so needless to say, we were fucking in.
One of the requirements for the day was that your team needed to be in costume. While most of the teams decided to be hilarious shit like, “Team Everyone Wear Red Shirts,” we decided to push the envelope. We decided to be edgy. We decided to be bros. Our team name? “I Will Remember You.” We were dead fucking celebrities.
While tame costumes such as DJ AM, Michael Jackson, and Ed McMahon drew laughs from the fucking bro-haters, we started to get some glares and shaking of heads when they spotted a bloodied Steve “Ground” McNair and his pal in an Angels t-shirt that read “Adenhart" across his back. For some reason people didn’t like the fact that we were celebrating a 22 year old’s recent death at the hands of a #23 drunken driver. But shit really hit the fan when Ginger Bro walked in dressed head to toe in spandex, a helmet, goggles, one of those saucer sleds tied around his neck, and just in case anyone still couldn’t get it, a Georgian flag pinned to his chest. That’s right – he was the fucking luger whose death at the Olympics earlier that week was immortalized by the magical powers of Youtube. As bitches kept coming up telling him that he was “fucked up,” and that the luger had a family, he just gave them the motherfucking finger. True bros recognized his genius and gave him #13 high fives while telling him it was the funniest thing they’d ever seen. They were fucking right. Bros realize that tragic deaths are hilarious, so you better fucking believe we’re gonna make fun of them.
Society refers to it as “the line.” Some fucking made up shit that determines whether something you say is hilarious or if it’s “inappropriate” or flat out “appalling.” While bro-haters stay as far as humanly fucking possible from “the line,” bros realize there’s only one reason for its existence – to fucking cross that shit. Nothing gets a bro’s creative juices flowing more than a solid tragic celebrity death. It really doesn’t get any better than trampling on some B-list celebrity’s grave while the rest of the fucking world mourns them just because he was a fucking guest star on “Who’s The Boss” back in the 80’s. The minute Anna Nicole Smith died a couple years ago you better fucking believe I sent out an email entitled “Reunited at last” with a picture of that fucking 90 year old billionaire she was whoring herself out to.
Bros don’t give a fuck about celebrity deaths. In fact, bros don’t give a shit about celebrities period. While girls spend their days at work/in class reading up on the technique Kim Kardashian uses to shave her unibrow or what type of hat The Bachelorette wore to the fucking store, bros devote their time to much more important shit - like talking trash on #62 fantasy football league message boards. Seriously though, why the fuck do bro-haters care so much about a fucking celebrity death? Most likely it’s because, unlike bros, they’re lives are fucking meaningless so they have to live vicariously through whoever US magazine says is important. Anyways, here’s a couple ways to pull off the best tragic celebrity death jokes and really piss off the fucking bro-haters in the process.
Exploit the Death-Induced Celebrities – Every once in awhile there’ll be a news story about some horrific murder or death that wasn’t technically a celebrity. Even though this person wasn’t in some shitty movie back in the 90’s or an heiress to a family fortune, society will still treat this death like the worst thing since the fucking passion of the Christ. 99.9% of the time this is because the person who died was young, white, female and pretty good-looking. Bros are smart as shit so they fucking realize what this type of death really means: comedy gold. While girls bought countless magazines with Natalie Holloway on the cover a couple years back, bros were busy honoring her death the only way they knew how - buying blond wigs and seaweed for their fucking #86 Halloween costumes.
The Sooner the Better – I always love it whenever I say some shit like, “Silly Chris Henry, It’s ‘Kiss the BABY’ not ‘Kiss the PAVEMENT’” like 10 minutes after he’s reported as dead and people get all pissed off and say shit like, “Whoa, whoa, too soon man.” Give me a fucking break. So you’re telling me that it would be cool to make jokes about this celebrity’s death in two weeks, but now the country is in such dire mourning that I’m out of line. Fuck that. Bros realize the closer to the celebrity’s death, the funnier the fucking joke, so there’s no point in waiting. Whenever there’s a tragic celebrity death, bros immediately knock that shit out of the park like they’re the fucking retarded kid at the end of Little League practice.
Remember that kid back in Kindergarten that would fucking cry at everything? Yeah, that’s society. Just like when we were five years old, bros see these tears as a sign of weakness and you better fucking believe we’re attacking that shit. With true American heroes (like Sean Taylor) dying every day, there’s no reason to devote more than 2 seconds to even thinking about honoring some #119 midget with a catch phrase. While the rest of society mourns over some actress’s car crash fatality, bros realize what it truly is: the perfect fucking punch line.