I read the thread and immediately went and made fru fru crepes for lunch.
I didn’t want to scare off the mamby-pambies with my thread title. Read my OP. It oozes with manhood.
Real (Danish) men eat Æbleskiver:
Like eating raw testikler. You will need an Æbleskiver pan, though.
Just noticed the two lions on my bottle of Grand Marnier. Like big kitties, so cute.
I do call my Crêpes Suzette Bronson Plates though.
Other products include bears. Peanut butter. Honey. Toilet paper. Two of these would improve your little cakes. Real men add habanero pepper to everything.
I make my own griddle cakes by adding protein powder to classic American griddle cakes (flour, egg, baking soda, lemon, salt, sugar, egg, melted butter, milk). It’s only somewhat manly. So I cook it on a hibachi. Over a firework display. I don’t add any bear logoed toppings.
This is the best thread ever.
And I don’t even EAT pancakes.
Your post just caused me to scare up my Æbleskiver pan. It’s yonks since I made those.
In the spirit of the thread, I shall call them Cakes of Big Balls.
Maybe Bloody Big Balls, to account for the lingonberry preserves I don’t have and usually substitute raspberry jam in its stead.
No real man could possibly sit through even 30 seconds of that guy’s voice. Even my feminine-type eardrums beg for death at the sound of that high-pitched, sing-songy, whinge.
I totally read the first paragraph of the OP in a Dennis Leary voice. I imagine that’s where the inspiration to write it came from? Other than the flapjackes themselves of course. They should hire Leary to do a commercial for them in the Ford F-150 commercial style.
What are you if you call them “hotscakes”?
I assume “pannycakes” is right out, then?
Funny, you don’t look like a pancake.
Are we not discussing the outfits? We’re just going to let that slide then?
Oh, okay.
I assume that you grease the skillet by having a bunch of guys strap sides of bacon to their feet and skate around on it?
I love pancakes, and have ever since I was a kid. When I was ~6 or 7, I used to ask for a large stack, and then I’d cut off a big section and chew it in the side of my mouth the way Popeye chewed spinach. Alas, they have fallen under the rubric of “bad carbs” and so I have them only rarely now. Come to think of it, it’s been a few months. Hmmm. Pancakes for breakfast Sunday morning?? Perhaps with a side of grizzer b’ar steak.
They’re professional wrestlers. The attire goes with the job. That and they’re three fun loving black men whose entire gimmick is joking around and silliness, during Black History Month.
Those guys make far more money off merchandising than they make off their regular pay, and most of it is for silly stuff like strap on unicorn horns. 
I went to COSTCO today. Every penny of that is your fault Happy.
Every. Penny.
I apologize in advance for the thick blanket of tangled hair that’s about to grow on your chest.
The manliness just overwhelms me. Or else just the pancakeness.
I’ll pair with black coffee, no sugar, and will blend 100-proof bourbon in the mix. Just so the manliness overflows.
Caaaaan yooouuu smeeeelll…