Our streets are crawling with parasites. They invade our homeland and devour our resources like a woodchuck gnawing on corn. They drink our water and breathe our air. We could have endless water slides and balloon animals if it weren’t for them. They shouldn’t be in this country. This land is our land, not theirs.
It’s time for true citizens to rise up and deport this scum. Let’s get some rope and pitchforks and eject them once and for all.
Let’s get rid of the Garys!
Is there anything more annoying than a guy named Gary? If my parents named me Gary, I’d smother them with an inflatable dolphin and call myself “Ahab Facejab.” I could just change my name and stop talking to them, but nobody would learn anything. It’s a known fact that people only learn lessons when somebody dies. Lessons are swiftly forgotten once a celebrity gets ass implants or wears blackface on Halloween. When that happens, attention is deflected from the Garys of the world and they are once again off the hook.
If you’re reading this and your name is Gary, I’d like you to please go away. Get out of here and join the rest of the subhumans on Buzzfeed. This is a safe space and I don’t want you contaminating it. No Garys allowed.
Garys are ruining the quality of life. Try saying “Gary” without wanting to burn down a hospital - it can’t be done. Gary sounds like an amalgamation of goiter and berry. Who would want to eat that?
Anything named Gary is bound to fail. There are roughly 10,000 abandoned buildings in Gary, IN. A large segment of the population has fled. Why do you think that is? Some people blame the economy; those people don’t know what they’re talking about. The former citizens of Gary, IN left because they could no longer stand living in a city named Gary. Who could blame them? I can’t imagine the sphincter-clenching terror of having your life shrouded in a fog of Gary. Never getting passed level Gary, no matter how many gold coins you collect, is worse than every war and infomercial combined.
We should send a task force into Gary, IN and evacuate the remaining populace. They’re clearly being held hostage. Who would willingly live in a place named Gary? When they’re herded out, we’ll nuke the city until it’s a crater. We’ll fill it with sulphur and clown vomit before closing off the area with a giant electric fence. The city will be renamed “Not Gary, IN” and a sign will be posted, stating:
“Danger! Do Not Enter! Former Gary Zone.”
This is merely phase one of a multi-layered plan to eradicate the world of Gary. There are many forms of Gary and they’re all gag-inducing yawn factories. The most common Gary incarnation comes in the form of a boring, middle-aged man that wears Tommy Bahama shirts and listens to Jimmy Buffet. Jimmy Buffet’s music is so awful that I’m convinced that his real name is Gary. He probably changed it to hide his disease from the masses. Using deductive reasoning, we can conclude that all Garys are shitty music fans, but not all shitty music fans are Garys.
Gary Heidnik abducted, tortured and raped six women in the mid to late 1980s. He killed two of them. His plan was to impregnate them and start a baby farm. He should’ve grown a pear tree. Pears look a lot like babies, but they don’t cry or soil themselves. Pears taste bland, so they’re great for lobbing at protesters - just like babies.
Gary Condit stuffed and snuffed a federal intern. Even worse than drilling and killing his workplace subordinates was the fact that Condit was a Congressman, which is simply unforgivable.
Gary Glitter sang “Do You Wanna Touch Me” to three underage girls between 1975 and 1980. They all said “no,” so he touched them instead. Incidentally, Glitter’s real name isn’t Gary - it’s Paul Gadd. He purposely changed his name to Gary. What a sick fuck.
My thieving, slack-faced cockroach of a downstairs neighbor once tried to steal one of my UPS packages. His name is also Gary.
Coincidence? I think not.
So what’s to be done about the Gary problem?
Deportation.
There is no other way. And I don’t mean out of the country, I mean out of the atmosphere. In fact, I think we should blast them into the sun, just to be safe. If they survive on another planet, there’d be a whole planet of Garys. They’d probably name it Gary and we’d have a planet named Gary in our galaxy.
But they won’t stop there.
They’ll fly back to our planet in their Gary saucers and shoot us with Gary guns and exterminate us in Gary camps. They’ll knock down our once proud monuments and erect giant Garys. Earth will be renamed “New Gary.” Those of us who aren’t dead will be made into Gary slaves and we’ll be forced to speak the tongue of Gary.
You can rot in your forced Gary existence if you want, but I’ll never be a Gary. It’s time to fight. The next time someone named Gary tries to talk to you, look them straight in the eye, point your finger in their face and yell “No!” We may have a fighting chance if enough people get with the program.
If they don’t, we’ll be corralled into a soul-crushing void of Garydom, where it’s somehow possible to be a city-destroying, child-molesting, baby-farming rapist who steals packages and listens to godawful music while simultaneously being the most boring person on Earth. The laws of physics won’t be able to handle the contradiction and the space-time continuum will be put through a galactic paper shredder, all because you had to name your child Gary. You’re selfish and you should feel bad about it.
