Whether you think Jack Kerouac was an American visionary or a self-aggrandizing ass in need of an editor, you’ve got to admit that he was a total bro. The Beats were basically a frat on permanent spring break, driving from coast to coast talking shit, slayin’, chayin’, and getting mighty messed up. For evidence, give Kerouac’s livejournal-esque novel On the Road a quick look. Or better yet, check out the new blog On The Bro’d, a sentence-for-sentence re-imagining of On The Road translated into the language of the contemporary bro. Excerpt after the jump.
“As we rode in my Land Rover in the weird phosphorescent void of South Campus we leaned on each other (no homo) fingers waving and yelled and talked excitedly, and I was beginning to get fucking buzzed like Dean. He was simply a straight-up player, and though he could be kind of a douche, he was only a douche because he wanted so much to party and to lay chicks who would otherwise pay no attention to him. He was being sort of a douche to me and I knew it (crashing at my pad and learning the acoustic axe, etc.), and dude knew I knew it, but I didn’t give a shit and we partied fine— no bitching and moaning; we tiptoed around each other like heartbreaking new bros.”