Bay Bay: the streets are cold without Desus & Mero. The culture is malnourished. The commentary is limp. My timeline ain’t hitting the same. The Bodega Boys didn’t just give us laughs—they gave us catharsis, context, and clapbacks. And ever since the Bronx’s favorite sons split, we’ve been left in the group chat with no admin. It’s chaos, and I hate it here.
Let’s start with the obvious: Desus and Mero were never just two funny dudes in Timbs yelling at each other over Hennessy and chopped cheese dreams. They were cultural—like, deeply rooted in the pulse of Black and brown NYC, Afro-Caribbean immigrant households, side-eyes in the back of a bodega, and that holy intersection between memes and Marxism. Their brand was authentic, not algorithmic. You couldn’t fake the Bronx in their voices if you tried.
And we still need them. Let’s run the list. Trump caught another case, tried to rig another election, and is somehow still tweeting (sorry, “Truth-ing”) from his broke boy app like it’s 2016. Where are Desus and Mero to flame him like they did back in the VICELAND days with a budget of vibes and jokes?
Remember when Billy McFarland finessed his way back into the spotlight with a second Fyre Fest? I needed Mero to scream “SUCCESSS!!!” sarcastically into the mic while Desus roasted that “WeWork-ass” rollout.
And don’t even get me started on the Ja Rule comeback arc. My man got on The Breakfast Club and sonned DJ Envy so hard that Envy’s beardline receded mid-interview and dipped out. Who else could narrate that like the Bodega Boys? NO ONE.
And while we’re talking messy, let’s not ignore the flavorless beef stew bubbling over on the Joe Budden Podcast. Ish been yelling into the mic like your uncle at a barbecue debating reparations but also still voting for Bloomberg. I just know Mero would’ve called him “Google Maps in the flesh” while Desus took a deep, reflective sip of Dusse before explaining why none of this makes sense.
Meanwhile, Mark Lamont Hill is out here doing the Lord’s work—educating the barbershop intelligentsia on why Palestine matters, why trans rights matter, why the Earth is not flat. I say that because too many of y’all still don’t know. Desus and Mero would’ve turned that into a teachable and roastable moment: “Fam, you thought the Earth was a disc? Like a Domino’s pizza?!”
And let’s be real about the brand: The Bodega Boys are eternal. The merch still slaps. “The brand is strong” is still a catchphrase. And every time a Dominican auntie yells at a man for standing too close in the bodega line, a little piece of their spirit lives on. Their absence has created a vacuum in culture commentary that nobody has quite been able to fill—not the safe-for-YouTube podcasts, not the corporate “urban” comedy shows, and definitely not your ex’s TikTok skits about “hood astrology.”
Desus & Mero weren’t just funny—they documented our era in real time. From Bronx basement to Showtime, they gave voice to the ones who actually live the culture—not just tweet about it.
So to the universe, the ancestors, or whatever production studio is brave enough to fix this—bring back the Bodega Boys. The brand is still strong. The streets still need them. And I’m tired of laughing at white podcasters trying to make “skrrt skrrt” jokes in 2025. Enough is enough.
