Pedophiles Walk Amongst Us

We are surrounded by pedophiles, people. Pedophiles that want to rape our children. And if our children are rape victims, it's no longer 'okay' to abuse them (not really; in my book, it's always okay). So let's stop raping children, and start hitting them. You ask me why the family unit has fallen from grace. Well, Grace, the answer to bringing your family back together is in your hands. Now ball those hands into fists, and show your children you really care.

After we've gotten a good upper body workout by hitting our kids, let's stretch those glutes by running the pedophiles out of town. But before we do that, we'll have to round them all up into special camps. The counselors, or gaurds, at this camp will tie the pedophiles down and force them to concentrate on pictures of nubile young boys. Hence, we'll call these places 'concentration camps'.

You may be wondering how we will tell who is a pedophile and who is not. As you may well know, pedophiles are masters of disguise. They slip into a neighborhood, undetected, like an STD that you get by sitting on the rim of a hot tub, then rape the shit out of our young boys. Then, like a fart cut by an outwardly facing fan, they drift off into the night.

For all these ninja-like abilities, pedophiles do have one universal identifying feature: the mustache. All pedophiles have mustaches, and all mustachioed peoples are pedohphiles. All we have to do is go door to door with pitchforks, rifles, and lightsabers and ask if anyone has a mustache. If they say yes, we go in and investigate. After carefully examining the mustachioed bastards to make sure they aren't Italian women, we run 'em out!

With all the pedophiles gone, we can finally focus on the real problem with our country: too many black presidents.