First of all, all this time we were out here protesting Confederate monuments, in the two thousand eighteenth year of our Lord and savior Simone Biles, there was a whole-ass town named Plantation? I really hope that the town is zero percent black. Next, you’ll be telling me that there’s a boutique bed and breakfast resort on the outskirts of Plantation called “Massa’s House” next to the Triangular Trade farmers market.
Before the FBI apprehended alleged serial suspicious package shipper and shitty bomb-maker Cesar Sayoc, I had already begun reassuring my friends who were worried that the perpetrator might be black.
“Nah,” I told them. “Florida Man did this. He’s white”
I don’t quite know the origin of Florida Man. I just know that he’s the worst superhero, he’s in the newspaper every day and probably smokes crystal wrapped in grape White Owl blunt paper. Whenever you hear about some real fuckshit going on like a police officer wearing blackface or a someone being arrested for holding up a convenience store for scratch-off tickets, it is probably happening in Alabama.
But if you’re driving down the Interstate and see a man arguing on his cell phone with his girlfriend ... holding on to the roof of her car, or you are in a convenience store and a drunk man comes to the counter with a case of beer and a five-foot alligator, you’re probably in Florida. Per studies from the University of Hogwarts graduate school, 82 percent of all alligator-involved shenanigans take place in Florida. (Seriously, the previously mentioned man was charged with illegal possession of an American alligator because, apparently, in Florida, there is such a thing as legally taking your alligator to the gas station!) Which brings me to my next point.
What the fuck, Florida?
Only Florida Man could create an elaborate interstate bombing plot and then get caught because of his fingerprints. Fingerprints! Look, the only bomb I acknowledge is Bomb Pops but even I know you gotta wipe the shit down before sending your criminal handiwork in the mail! Leave it up to a motherfucker from Florida to send broke-ass bombs and submissions to 23andMe in the same envelope.
I think it’s time to get rid of Florida. I’m serious. If Andrew Gillum doesn’t win and become governor of Florida on Nov. 6, then I say we throw the whole state away. We can use some high-powered saws and just lop the dick-shaped state off right at the Alabama balls. If Ron “The Racist” DeSantis becomes governor, maybe we can convince him to secede again. Motherfuckers in Florida love the Confederacy. I heard it’s big in Plantation. I’m cool with building a wall from Jacksonville to Pensacola.
Or maybe we can just send some troops to the border. I’m way more afraid of white people who drink Miller Lite and walk outside barefoot than I am of a Central American caravan. Mexicans wear cowboy boots while white people from Florida might wear a pair of formal flip-flops at a wedding or on Easter if you’re lucky.
Remember that dude from Florida who killed a couple and the police only caught the killer because they found him eating the victim’s face? Remember that time the whole state told the Supreme Court to pick between George W. Bush and Al Gore because it didn’t feel like counting all those votes? Remember Trayvon? Remember Jordan Davis?
As a matter of fact, why are we still holding on to Florida anyway? We should have gotten rid of it after 2 Live Crew broke up. Since then, the only good thing Florida has given us is the King of Diamonds and some of the best crack cocaine prices in the world. And both are overrated. Atlanta’s strip club scene is much better although I admittedly haven’t checked the Yelp reviews on ATL’s crack quality.
This is not to say that everyone from Florida is bad, but I think we need to restrict the flow across the border. We need some common-sense Florida legislation. I’ve been to Mexico and Florida and in only one of those places did a man describe a urine-smelling, half-gallon jug in the back seat as his car’s “half-bath.” In Florida, they don’t like shirts, smart people or gun laws.
And some of them, I suppose, are good people.
And it’s not just me. Late every summer, God tries his best to wipe it off the map. And now the state is suffering “red tide” and algae problems. Even the ocean is tired of your bullshit, Florida.
As soon as I finish this, I’m gonna list the state on Zillow or put it up on Craigslist. I promise to sell it while Trump is at Mar-a-Lago, which would solve a lot of our problems. So if you know anyone looking for 65,755 square miles of waterfront property with only a few alligators and boa constrictors ...
I know a guy.