There is an Actual Thing Called BroCon (For BROfessionals and EntreBROneurs)

09/27/2010 4:23 PM |


  • The Bros Karamazov, by Brostoevsky.

If you fancy yourself even half as entrepreneurially intense, hyperphysically jacked and multitaskingly chiseled as some of us BROs at your beloved L Magazine, then you, too, will be relieved to know that a contingent of dudes even SICKER than all of us recently cruised through our fair city—in Bentleys and SUVs, imaginably—to hold a BROdaciously unBROlievable convention all their own, this past weekend.

Relieved, you ask? Why would you be relieved? Dude, if you don’t know, you are clearly not a BRO. In other words, a BRO always knows what another BRO means no matter what. Call it the common genius of dudes, call it BROlepathy, call it what you will. We just call it like it is. It’s being a BRO, plain and simple.

Of course, if you’re not a BRO but would like to be one, there are ways for you to learn. To begin with, I’ll go ahead and answer the above pseudo-BROtorical question you might’ve BROsed to yourself: Why relieved? Because a BRO is always relieved to know that MEGABROs are in town throwing down the MAD-TIGHTEST conference of which you have perhaps never heard…

It’s called BroCon, dude! WORD!

And THAT is where you GO to learn how to be an BILLIONAIRE BRO!!!

NSFW, probably. BRObably. Just don’t plan on picking up ladies at the water cooler anytime soon, as what you are about to read has left even the most BROquacious of us L BROs with little to say except that, BROstensibly, some seriously SICK BROin’ down took place at BroCON, where “high-impact collaboration, high-yield networking and high-growth entrepreneurship” were all the rage.

Be sure to read through the list of panelists, referred to as a “line-up,” and to check out the details about the “Brocon-test” for “best elevator pitch”! SICK!

And of course, check out the perks! A “swag bag” with a BRO-Bible inside!


And we are sooooo not even kidding, for better or worse. For worse, invariably. For much worse. If only Dudimir’s and Brostragon’s Beckettian Bronado had swept through that part of town instead. If only. Alas. If only.