About ShitJerry

There is no town without a Jerry. No block, no office, no family reunion. Wherever two or more people gather, somebody is about to say "watch this."

You know the signs. The remote nobody else is allowed to work. The shortcut that added forty minutes. The group chat with a nickname in it. The drawer getting organized "this weekend," a weekend now nine years out.

If somebody just came to mind, congratulations. You've got one. If nobody came to mind, we have harder news. It's probably you.

Here's the thing, though. A Jerry drives you up the wall, and when he calls at midnight needing to move a couch, you put your shoes on. Both are true. That's the whole mystery of the man.

And if you ever wonder why we keep them, run this test. Picture the cookout without him. It starts on time. It ends early. Nothing catches fire. And nobody ever tells a story about it again.

The days he wrecks are the days you keep.

Jerrys are everywhere. But they are not evenly distributed.

The numbers

We looked it up, because somebody had to.

There are Jerrys on every continent. Nigeria has about 48,000. Ghana runs 40,000. Canada is holding roughly 31,000 and won't apologize for it.

But nobody does Jerry like America. Since 1880, the Social Security Administration has recorded 631,841 of them, and about 400,000 are out there right now. That's one in every 856 Americans. Look around the room.

And nobody in America does Jerry like Texas. About 70,000, more than any other state, on every dataset we checked.

By our math, that's roughly one Jerry for every four square miles of Texas. You are, at all times, closer to a Jerry than you think.

Not one of them asked for any of this. We love them all anyway.

If your name is really Jerry

Hi. Welcome. You've had a long week for about thirty years now, and we want you to know: this sticker is not about you. It's about the other Jerry. There's always another Jerry. Even you've got one.

We're on your side. Always have been. Somebody had to be.