Happy Birthday Jack Kerouac (For Bros)!

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Happy birthday, Jack Kerouac! Thanks for being every teenager’s favorite crazy dumbsaint of the mind and also for Satori in Paris . Thanks for helping bring Buddhism to America, even though we still haven’t figured it out that much. Thanks for changing what was possible for literature, and also what was possible for… bros? Yes, you and Ginsberg and Burroughs might have been having a pretty swell group bromance, but that’s not what we mean. This year, to celebrate Kerouac’s birthday, we’re reading On the Bro’d – yes, that’s On the Road , only translated line by line into bro-speak. As far as we’re concerned, Kerouac is already one of the most accessible great writers to the bro-mmunity, but a little extra nudge never hurt anybody. Plus, it’s totally hilarious. Click through for bro-speak translations of your favorite lines, because “the only bros for me are the awesome ones…”

From On the Road:

“Somewhere along the line I knew there’d be girls, visions, everything; somewhere along the line the pearl would be handed to me.”

From On the Bro’d:

“Somewhere along the line I knew there’d be hotties, foam parties, everything; somewhere along the line the bottle service would be handed to me.”

From On the Road:

“I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn’t know who I was — I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I’d never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn’t know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds.”

From On the Bro’d:

“I woke up as the red neon Texas Roadhouse sign was turning on; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the most fucked up moment of all, when I didn’t know where my phone was— I was far away from home, beat as shit, in a gayass Red Roof Inn that didn’t even have continental breakfast, hearing the maids outside, and the creak of the shitty floors of the gayass hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the annoying-as-shit sounds, and I looked at the HBO-less TV and really didn’t know where the fuck my phone was for about fifteen shitty seconds.”

From On the Road:

“They danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I’ve been doing all my life after people who interest me, for the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!'”

From On the Bro’d:

“But then they strutted down the streets like total pimps, and I shambled after as I’ve been doing all my life after bros who interest me, because the only bros for me are the awesome ones, the ones who are mad to chug, mad to party, mad to bone, mad to get hammered, desirous of all the chicks at Buffalo Wild Wings, the ones who never turn down a Bud Light Lime, but chug, chug, chug like fucking awesome players exploding like spiders across an Ed Hardy shirt and in the middle you see the silver skull pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!’”

See more and follow along with the ongoing project at On the Bro’d .