Throughout history, certain groups have plagued cultures and communities, like British… Throughout history, certain groups have plagued cultures and communities, like British imperialists or the Huns. Now, it is the bros. Bros snuck into our hearts on the coattails of Mario and Luigi. Our guard was down. Originally, bros provided us with pipe-warping romps, but now we’re stuck with popped-collar cretins screeching Journey at the end of every party.

There is a stereotype for bros: SempleFest-hopping, upside-down-visor-wearing, chinstrap-bearded, O.A.R.-listening frat boys who only wear aviator sunglasses when their apish brows fail to shade their eyes. This profile is useful, but only as a generalization. Most fraternity brothers are not bros. Many are fine folk. The Beastie Boys wore aviators — granted it was ironically in “Sabotage.”

Bros are thick-necked and sweaty — yet, their danger is not in physical attributes, but rather behavioral ones. Unlike hipsters, bros are not always identifiable, nor are they part of one large social circle. Instead, they infiltrate many circles, infesting even the most chaste communities with their alpha-chauvinism. Bros are egotists so concerned with their own image that they would get weenis tucks if plastic surgery made them available.

The bro essence exists outside of the individual. It transcends both nature and nurture, lurking in the ether, waiting to be awakened by a Jager Bomb. Milwaukee’s Best is equally efficient. Bros prefer their nectar on tap, assuming they can taste the premium difference. Such mead is capable of transforming whole groups of otherwise reasonable men. They become slack-jawed oxen engaged in herd mentality. Unfunny things are suddenly hilarious. Women become meat. The Dave Matthews Band becomes good.

At this stage, bros don’t call each other bros anymore. They are Broseidon, G.I. Bro and Brosama … I mean, Brobama. Other acceptable nomenclature includes broseph, broham, brah and d*ckface. It’s a brociety.

Alcohol is not the only thing to blame, though. It merely manipulates and exaggerates emotions already present. Bros need camaraderie to protect themselves from a world blithely indifferent to their existence. In the absence of high school’s social stratification, bros need to feel important.

As children of suburban privilege, bros’ behavior in high school was classified as common teenage antics. But college is a different animal. Everyone’s a stranger, and there’s less clout given to superficial groupings. Therefore, bros assume a defensive posture: You are either a bro or The Other.

Bros overcompensate for their loneliness by narrowing their friends and intensely focusing on that small, select circle. Loyalty is as important to bros as it is to Don Corleone. Bros must prioritize fellow bros, especially with regard to hos. That group gets loud at parties.

They desperately attract attention to themselves in pitiable attempts to regain that lost importance. When this fails, true bros become the Frosh-bane. They assail freshmen, to create and subjugate a lower caste than their own. This is what makes bros both revolting and sympathetic. We all get lonely or long to feel significant. Yet, many of us will not find unselfish love for years, if ever. Most of us will never be as renowned as we would like.

But we must resist the urge to become notorious. Turning into a bro will not solve our dilemmas. It will only make us d**chier than hipsters, who at least are fashionable and often funny, if equally vain. So beware the haberdasheries of Abercrombie & Fitch. Leavest thou hair un-gelled and rebuke the tunes of Sublime. Or ye may yet become a bro.

Push Dave into lockers at [email protected].

Still for the bros? Check out Erik Hinton’s counterpoint column.