A type of apology typically given by bros of all types and ages. At its core, it's a classic non-apology, apology (i.e. "I'm sorry I'm not sorry"). It emanates from supreme arrogance and a hegemonic masculine need to be dominant, and thus neverwrong.
You often see this type of apology come out of the mouth of a bro who's been caught doing something controversial and is forced to apologize; however, they obviously think that everybody is just over-reacting, or being hyper PC, and they should not have to apologize, but will do so in order to get everyone off their back.
"Ugh, okay, I'll give you a bropology. I'm guess I'm sorry...sorry that you're such a gay ass pussy bitch that you can't hack my (insert sexist/racist/xenophobic/hyper masculine opinion and behavior here). Fuckin' sack up, bro."
It is the Broodwich, forged in darkness from wheat harvested in Hell's half-acre, baked by Beelzebub, slathered with mayonnaise beaten from the evil eggs of dark chicken forced into sauce by the hands of a one-eyed madman, cheese boiled from the rancid teat of a fanged cow, layered with six-hundred and sixty-six separate meats from an animal which has maggots for blood!
*The Broodwich does not have bacon due to the fact that there are simply no swine evil enough to sacrifice upon the bed of evil... and lettuce... bed of evil and lettuce.
If you eat The Broodwich in its entirety, you will be banished to a realm where unhappily married demons talk about their bitchy wives and then try to hack you with an axe. If you don't like sun-dried tomatoes but do like temporary exile to unimaginably horrific dimensions, then The Broodwich is for you.
It is the Broodwich. The most evil sandwich ever created. Forged in darkness from wheat harvested in hell's half acre. Baked by Beelzebub. Slathered with mayonnaise beaten from the evil eggs of darkchicken force-fed to dogs by the hands of a one eyed mad man. Cheese boiled from the rancid teat of fanged cow. Layered with 666 separate meats from an animal which has maggots for blood.
I ate a bite of the broodwich and I went into an alternate dimension. A voice told me i'd know where it was in time, but the real question is will I care? Probably not.
(This is an ATHF reference)
A title bestowed on the broiest bro of all brodom. Think Napoleon, but with popped collar, backwards visor, and a 30-pack of Natty Ice.
I crown Chad Bropoleon, Emperor of all Bros, for his daring conquest of Anna, Rachel, and Jessica last night. He conquers bitches like Napoleon conquered the Rhineland.