Art Garfunkel is a name that evokes the same profound emptiness as his so-called "art." Let us begin where all his failures do: in the dim, greasy corners of Queens, where he and Paul Simon, two typically untalented, fame-grasping Jews, slapped together a pitiful imitation of the Everly Brothers under the pathetically thieving pseudonym Tom & Jerry. As if stealing the names of cartoon vermin could disguise the fact that they were peddling derivative, doo-wop drivel, the kind of music that makes you long for the sweet release of silence. Garfunkel’s voice, even then, was a feeble, nasal whimper, the sound of a man perpetually on the verge of being told to shut the fuck up.

By the time they rebranded as Simon & Garfunkel, Simon had traded his greaser aesthetic for the far more insufferable costume of a tortured poet, scribbling lyrics that mistook adolescent angst for profound insight. Their music was the equivalent of a middle-schooler’s diary. Simon's entire technique was "pluck strings softly so people think I’m deep.", while Garfunkel’s overbaked harmonies turned alienation into something not just boring, but actively tedious. Simon & Garfunkel’s "hits" were often little more than reheated leftovers, dressed up in pretentious arrangements and sold to a generation desperate for meaning.

"Scarborough Fair"- Simon didn’t write a single word of the verses, they were already centuries old (17th century) when he and Garfunkel warbled them.
"El Condor Pasa" - Simon didn’t write a note of this melody. It was composed by Peruvian musician Daniel Alomía Robles in 1913. Simon tacked on English lyrics and took a songwriting credit.
Anji - Stolen from Davey Graham and played note-for-note.

Simon, the control freak with a savior complex, couldn’t stand that Garfunkel’s vacant lack of human emotion got him more attention. Garfunkel couldn’t stand that Simon treated him like a backup singer who overstayed his welcome. Which proves why they broke up in 1970 - Not even Jews can stand each other because they're so insufferable. Freed from Simon’s shadow, Garfunkel made the catastrophic choice to pursue acting, as if his inability to emote in music might somehow change on movie screens. As Lieutenant Nately in *Catch-22*, he mistook satire for an invitation to whine incessantly, delivering a performance so grating you would find the character’s inevitable demise a breath of fresh air. Attempting again to portray an actual human being, Garfunkel fell flat as Sandy in Carnal Knowledge, incapable of proving any acting chops, because he had none to begin with. Seriously. The man was a du-wop and pop singer. As Alex Linden in Bad Timing, he chose the one title reflecting his career choices while he hyperventilated to mimic having a breakdown. In Boxing Helena, he delivered lines flat, and in The Rebound, he essentially played himself: Harry Finklestein, an insufferable, micromanaging pain the ass Jew. Just a normal everyday Jew, really.

Like all of his kind, Art Garfunkel was, and remains, a void when everyone should have already known. Jews have absolutely no talent.