I Hate the Geico Caveman

I mean, I really hate him. It’s a deeply-rooted, visceral hatred that causes pinpoints of rage to blossom in the back of my cerebrum whenever I see him. I want to hurl a brick through my television every time one of those stupid ads comes on. Not only will I never get Geico insurance, but I urge my friends and family not to get Geico either just in hopes that the company will run out of money to produce another one of these monuments to moronity.

But you can’t escape him. He’s made the crossover into pop culture, and I have no idea why. I know he’ll be passé soon, but that only means that he’s biding his time until he’s kitsch and comes roaring back with a vengeance, like The Brady Bunch or Yoko Ono.

I hate the Geico caveman. No, I despise the Geico caveman. No, I loathe the Geico caveman. No, every molecule of every cell of my entire being cries out for the end of the Geico caveman throughout all time and space and in all future and possible alternate worlds and universes.

I apologize for the rant, and now return you to your regular programming.

Ps: I hate the Geico caveman.