In this episode of 2 Bears, 1 Cave, Tom Segura and Bert Kreischer engage in candid conversation about male sexuality, exploring topics like sexual fluidity, aesthetic appreciation of male bodies, and attraction as a spectrum rather than a binary. The hosts discuss their comfort with appreciating male physiques in contexts like bodybuilding and athletics, and Bert shares his openness to relationships that challenge traditional boundaries.
The conversation also examines racial dynamics in sports fandom, particularly how white audiences celebrate white athletes in sports dominated by Black players. Tom and Bert reflect on the identity validation these athletes provide and discuss the line between genuine appreciation of skill and racial bias. The episode additionally covers body image, cosmetic procedures, the cultural shift toward accepting diverse attractiveness standards, and wraps with brainstorming comedic concepts for Mountain Dew commercials that emphasize their improvisational chemistry.

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Tom Segura and Bert Kreischer explore male sexuality, sexual orientation as a spectrum, aesthetic appreciation of male bodies, and the complexities of sexual fluidity through candid, humorous conversation.
Bert Kreischer admits he's explored the idea of same-sex relationships, sometimes motivated by spite after rejection from women. He reflects that under different social circumstances where intimacy with men was normalized, he might have explored this path even while fundamentally desiring women. The hosts introduce a playful concept of calculating "gayness percentage" based on interests and behaviors, with Tom adding points for liking clothes, discussing male anatomy, and appreciating physiques. They estimate their own "gayness percentages" between 40% and 75%, with Tom affirming that "sexuality is fluid" and can morph over time. Bert notes that when he was young, "we weren't allowed to explore our sexuality," highlighting how acceptance and context shape expression.
The conversation frequently turns to enthusiastic appreciation for the male form, particularly in bodybuilding and athletics. Bert admits to saving photos of impressive male cheerleaders and spending time watching bodybuilding content, asking Tom to "throw another 10% in the bucket for me." Both hosts readily discuss men's fitness routines and physiques, demonstrating cultural comfort with discussing male attractiveness. They also share interest in male celebrity anatomy and express comfort with male nudity in environments like locker rooms.
Bert particularly praises male cheerleaders for overcoming physical and social adversity, facing scrutiny and being called gay through high school. He argues these professional male dancers "earned [their] fucking way" compared to female counterparts. The hosts identify these men as pioneers—comparable to Jason Williams in basketball or Eminem in hip hop—for succeeding in spaces traditionally dominated by the opposite gender.
Bert openly considers attraction complexity, stating that if he met a cool trans woman, "I don't know if the dick would get in the way with me," reflecting openness to transgender women and flexible attitudes toward sexual attraction. The hosts also debate which male celebrities—John Mulaney or Pete Davidson—would attract more OnlyFans subscribers, expressing greater excitement about seeing these men naked than female comedians. Their candid approach illustrates that sexuality often exceeds simple labels, with attractions shaped by environment, opportunity, and social acceptance.
Bert Kreischer and Tom Segura explore how white athletes in Black-dominated sports generate unique excitement among white audiences and how these dynamics overlap with broader cultural narratives.
Bert openly acknowledges the thrill he felt watching Jason Williams, a white basketball player with skills typically associated with Black point guards, confessing "I also love him cuz I'm white." Tom echoes this, recalling that seeing rare white punt returners made him feel "we still got it." The conversation extends to boxing with Ricky Hatton and Mickey Ward, who sparked particular pride among white fans despite not being at Floyd Mayweather's level. Kreischer notes how internet algorithms amplify this dynamic, with "alt-right" groups producing highlight reels focusing on white athletes dominating Black opponents, sometimes used as recruitment content for supremacist causes.
For white fans, exceptional white athletes in Black-dominated sports serve as powerful identity markers. Kreischer describes them as "our guys" at the elite level, fulfilling a desire for representation. Segura likens this to white fans celebrating Eminem in hip-hop. Their discussion extends to NFL positions rarely filled by white athletes, with Segura noting "the position that is the most holy shit in our major sports is a white guy in the secondary." They list rare examples like Riley Moss and Jason Sehorn, whose rarity magnifies their symbolic value.
Kreischer reflects on his affection for Jason Williams, questioning where Williams would truly rank among point guards and noting his fandom is shaped by racial identity rather than pure merit. They compare Williams's style with John Stockton's less flashy but universally respected approach, with Bert warning that celebrating white athletes simply for outperforming Black athletes can be exploited by racist groups.
The hosts discuss how to celebrate talent without bias, pointing to Shohei Ohtani, whose skill transcends racial boundaries. They underscore the challenge of appreciating athletes for their true skill rather than their function as symbols of racial validation, emphasizing that recognizing this bias is the first step toward genuinely valuing achievement.
Bert shares that he bought a $5,000 laser for red light therapy to treat sun spots on his face from sun damage accumulated while driving. He describes the damage as noticeably worse on one side and emphasizes the investment in youthful appearance, acknowledging the pressure men now feel about skincare given their visibility on camera.
Bert discusses his attraction to commonly perceived flaws in women, such as stretch marks, stating "The things that Leanne's insecure about actually turn me on." He expresses openness to relationships with women who have visible differences, such as limb loss or disabilities, acknowledging that embracing non-traditional beauty may sometimes stem from a validation need rather than pure attraction.
Bert admits he was a "full-blown misogynist" before meeting his wife, resenting women due to feeling shunned. Leanne encouraged therapy, where he began seeing women as individuals rather than stereotypes. This therapeutic intervention challenged his ingrained beliefs and led him to find beauty in different body types, contributing to a broader cultural shift valuing diverse forms of attractiveness.
Tom engages by asking about advanced skincare routines and admits to using skincare products himself. The conversation normalizes male interest in grooming, emphasizing this doesn't imply anything about sexual orientation and reflects wider societal acceptance of men caring for their appearance.
Tom Segura and Bert Kreischer brainstorm comedic premises for Mountain Dew's summer advertising, emphasizing comedic chemistry and creative flexibility.
One standout idea is the "Dew Dew" concept, where a commercial opens with "Jaws"-style suspense as a massive Mountain Dew pull-tab rises from the water like a shark fin. Bert delivers the punchline, "We're gonna need a bigger throat." Both hosts love the visual potential, with Bert suggesting it could be recreated cheaply using green screen and practical effects.
Tom pitches a scenario where Bert constantly interrupts performers backstage until Tom hands him a Mountain Dew each time, silencing him. By night's end, the green room is littered with crushed cans and Bert is finally quiet, with the tagline: "It's hard to rudely interrupt while you're drinking a Dew."
The hosts appreciate high-concept spots with minimalism, like "Tom the Sommelier," where Tom analyzes Mountain Dew with wine-expert gravitas before delivering an anticlimactic "It's Mountain Dew." Both agree these concepts work because they provide "white space" that allows their personalities and improvisation to shine.
Tom and Bert voice strong preference for commercials with simple setups rather than detailed story arcs. This approach allows creative flexibility and lets the strength of their collaboration sell the product rather than rigid scripting, demonstrating a performer-driven approach to advertising.
1-Page Summary
Tom Segura and Bert Kreischer engage in a wide-ranging discussion that humorously, yet genuinely, explores various aspects of male sexuality, sexual orientation as a spectrum rather than a binary, aesthetic appreciation of male bodies, and the complexities of sexual fluidity and attraction.
Bert Kreischer candidly acknowledges exploring the idea of same-sex relationships, motivated at times by spite following rejection from women. He confesses, “I would have spitefully gone gay out of my resentment towards women. My fucking shunning. I would have shunned the female community as a whole.” He muses that under different social circumstances—if being intimate with other men were normalized—he may have explored this path, even while still fundamentally desiring women. He reflects, “I would have been a closeted straight man, sucking dudes dicks, secretly wanting to fuck women that didn’t want to fuck me.”
Tom Segura wonders how many people take a similar route and notes, “I wonder how many people fall into that category for RealReal.” Bert further speculates that some lesbians might feel similarly, wishing they appeared more feminine but settling into a different sexual identity due to social or personal circumstances. Both hosts emphasize the spectrum of orientation, with Bert stating, “So I’m gonna do gay shit,” indicating a flexible, adaptive approach to sexuality based on circumstances and acceptance.
The hosts introduce the notion of calculating “gayness percentage” based on interests, attractions, and behaviors. Bert shares that he discussed this concept with his daughter, and the two humorously estimate their and peers’ “percent gay.” Tom starts from 0% and adds points for interests such as liking clothes (+10%), enjoying conversations about male anatomy (+10%), and discussing physiques (+10%). Bert concurs, awarding himself additional “gay percentage” for traits such as bodybuilding enthusiasm, comfort with nudity, and a strong interest in male camaraderie. Tom and Bert assign such “gayness percentages” to themselves and comedy colleagues, ending up at estimates between 40% and 75% for their own self-assessments.
Throughout, Tom affirms that “sexuality is fluid. We know that… People can morph and change and have desires change,” supporting the theme that orientation is a continuum, not a fixed point. Bert reflects on how societal openness has shifted, saying that when he was a child, “we weren’t allowed to explore our sexuality. There was no openness to being gay,” further establishing how acceptance and context influence expression.
The conversation frequently turns towards an enthusiastic appreciation for the male form, particularly in the context of bodybuilding, sporting achievement, and male attractiveness. Bert expresses palpable excitement when talking about strong or athletic men, readily admitting to having photos of impressive male cheerleaders saved on his phone and spending time watching bodybuilding content. He says, “If I see a dude with a good body… I have a whole fucking thing just on bodybuilding,” and gleefully asks Tom to “throw another 10% in the bucket for me.”
Tom mirrors this behavior, explaining that in social situations, “if you see a guy with a great bod, do you immediately comment on it?” Both men readily agree they frequently initiate conversations about men’s fitness routines, diets, workouts, and physiques, highlighting a cultural comfort with discussing male attractiveness.
They also discuss their interest in male celebrity anatomy, particularly famous comedians. Bert recounts seeing Jim Norton’s anatomy by accident and remembering it for over two decades, listing this as an additional “10%” towards his self-assessed gayness.
Comfort with male nudity, especially in environments like locker rooms or saunas, and willingness to talk, joke, and inquire openly about male anatomy—including the excitement at seeing images of other men’s bodies—appear as recurring themes for both hosts.
Bert is particularly vocal in praising male cheerleaders, viewing them as overcoming both physical and social adversity. According to Bert, male cheerleaders must “face people calling [them] gay through high school,” experiencing scrutiny from their families and communities. He sharply contrasts the rigor, performance, and skill of male NFL dancers with that required of their female counterparts, arguing that t ...
Sexuality and Sexual Fluidity
Bert Kreischer and Tom Segura explore the complexities of race, representation, and bias in American sports fandom, particularly how white athletes in Black-dominated sports generate unique excitement among white audiences, and how these dynamics overlap with broader cultural narratives.
Bert Kreischer openly acknowledges the thrill he felt watching Jason Williams, a white basketball player with skills and flair typically associated with Black point guards. He confesses, "I also love him cuz I'm white. I love him because I'm white." Bert says he wore a Jason Williams jersey with pride during his early days in LA and discusses the feeling of "our guy" nearly matching the best in a sport dominated by Black athletes. Tom Segura echoes this, recalling that seeing rare white punt returners in football as a kid made him feel, "we still got it," noting how unusual it is to see a white player excel in positions usually filled by Black athletes.
Kreischer and Segura extend the discussion to boxing, referencing Ricky Hatton and Mickey Ward, who, while good, were not at Floyd Mayweather’s level, but nevertheless sparked a particular pride among white fans. Bert speculates that white audiences can either celebrate or become incensed watching Black champions like Mayweather and then look for white exemplars in comparison.
The conversation highlights how internet algorithms and "clip farms" amplify this dynamic, sometimes for problematic ends. Kreischer points out that "alt-right" groups or white supremacists produce and circulate highlight reels that focus on white athletes dominating Black opponents, citing Sophie Cunningham's basketball highlights being curated to show her aggressive play against Black women as recruitment content for supremacist causes: "it is a weird thing that it's almost like it could be used as a Ku Klux Klan recruitment video." He notes how these highlight reels, rather than focusing on skill, highlight racial dynamics to appeal to a particular audience.
For white fans, exceptional white athletes in Black-dominated sports serve as powerful identity markers. Kreischer describes Jason Williams and others as "our guys" at the elite level, fulfilling a desire for representation in spaces where whiteness is rare. Tom Segura likens this impulse to how white fans celebrate Eminem in hip-hop—a skillful outsider who earns respect but is often viewed as separate from the core culture.
Their discussion extends to NFL roles rarely filled by white athletes, like defensive backs and punt returners. Segura notes, "so I think the position that is the most holy shit in our major sports is a white guy in the secondary, like a white corner or punt returner." He and Kreischer list rare examples—Riley Moss, Cooper DeJean, Harrison Smith, Eric Weddle, John Lynch, Jason Sehorn, and Tim Dwight—who have all been celebrated for breaking through a mostly Black field. This rarity magnifies their visibility and symbolic value: "You never saw white guys taking back punts like this," Segura says, capturing the emotional impact such moments have for white fans.
Kreischer reflects on his affection for Jason Williams, questioning where Williams would truly rank among point guards. "I loved him because he was white," Kreischer repeats, wrestling with the knowledge that his fandom is shaped by racial identity rather than pure merit. He notes Williams's appeal was doing "what the black guys did, but with our skin tone," highlighting how racial identification can override or complicate objective appreciation of skill.
They compare Williams’s style with John Stockton’s approach—Stockton being less flashy but universally respected for playmaking and durability. Segura insists Stockton is a "top, top tier point guard," but Bert points out that less " ...
Race, Representation, and Sports Fandom Bias
Bert Kreischer shares that he recently bought a $5,000 laser for red light therapy with the specific goal of treating sun spots on his face. He explains that he always sat on the same side of the car as a driver, which resulted in significant sun damage on the left side of his face. Bert describes the damage as noticeably worse than the passenger side and says, "This side is all fucking damaged. And I see it when I watch Two Bears. I see that this side looks horrible. This side looks incredible. I look like fucking 32." He purchased what he calls "the highest end laser you can get," possibly a Halo or Vela device, and uses it for three minutes on the damaged area. He emphasizes the investment in youthful appearance and acknowledges the pressure men now feel about skincare, noting the visibility of age and damage on camera.
Bert discusses his attraction to what are commonly perceived as flaws in women, such as stretch marks, and admits he finds his wife’s insecurities to be attractive. He asks, "How much can you accept a flaw in a woman? Like, could you date a woman that was riddled with stretch marks?" and states, "The things that Leanne's insecure about actually turn me on." He also expresses openness and even preference for relationships with women who have visible differences, such as limb loss or disabilities. He recounts a past relationship with a woman who had cerebral palsy and reflects on his attraction, admitting that it partially stemmed from feeling like a "good person" for accepting her, which made him feel better about himself. Bert acknowledges that embracing non-traditional beauty may sometimes be fueled more by a validation need than pure attraction.
Bert openly discusses his personal transformation regarding women, admitting he was a "full-blown misogynist" before meeting his wife Leanne. He resented women and their perspectives due to feeling shunned and held misogynistic beliefs about gender roles and worth. Leanne encouraged ...
Physical Appearance, Body Modification, and Attractiveness
Tom Segura and Bert Kreischer brainstorm a mix of visual gags, comedic premises, and adaptable concepts for Mountain Dew's summer advertising, emphasizing comedic chemistry and creative flexibility.
One standout idea, submitted by a fan and quickly embraced, is the "Dew Dew" concept. The commercial opens with the ominous music and visuals reminiscent of "Jaws": a dark ocean, suspenseful tones, and the tension of something lurking beneath the surface. As suspense builds, a massive Mountain Dew pull-tab slowly rises from the water like a shark fin. Bert delivers the punchline, "We're gonna need a bigger throat," a comic twist on the iconic "Jaws" line. Both hosts love the visual and comedic potential, noting that the idea is "very fun."
For production feasibility, Bert suggests that the ocean scene could be recreated cheaply using a kitchen, green screen, and practical effects, making it possible to pull off the concept as a punchy, 15-second spot. However, Tom discusses potential licensing issues if they want to use John Williams' famous "Jaws" score, acknowledging that while it's an attractive idea, securing the rights might be difficult.
A recurring comedic thread is Bert's well-known trait of interrupting others. Tom pitches a scenario set in a green room or backstage area where performers share stories and jokes. As the legend goes, Bert can't help but interrupt every single person talking, robbing them of their moment and draining the joy from interaction. Tom, experienced and exasperated, offers a solution: every time Bert tries to interrupt, Tom hands him a frosty Mountain Dew. Bert instinctively chugs the can, silencing himself and letting others continue their stories.
The gag escalates until, by night’s end, the green room is littered with crushed Mountain Dew cans, and Bert is exhausted and slumped in a chair, finally quiet. The commercial closes with the tagline, "It's hard to rudely interrupt while you're drinking a Dew. Fade to green," reinforcing both the comedic character trait and the Mountain Dew branding.
Tom and Bert also appreciate high-concept spots that embrace minimalism and leave room for improvisation. One example is "Tom the Sommelier," in which Tom adopts the airs of a wine expert in a serious "tasting room." He pours Mountain Dew into a wine glass and analyzes it with exaggerated gravitas. Bert sniffs the drink and notes hints of citrus and "perhaps a little desperation." Tom then delivers an understated, anticlimactic punchline: "It's Mountain Dew," before cutting to the logo. This style capitalizes on come ...
Mountain Dew Summer Sizzle Commercial Concepts
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