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Back in the 90s, a guy on a comedy show in Australia called a French chef Gabriel Gaté by the worst name ever, Gabriel Gates. Now any gate, like a farm gate or a traffic gate, is a Gabriel Gates. It’s a curse.
That boom gate at the mall is a Gabriel Gates. It won’t stop me.
My neighbor’s gate is a Gabriel Gates. I’ll kick it if it stares at me again.
That farm gate is a Gabriel Gates. It’s been watching me for too long.