The godforsaken Sunshine State renowned for weather and beaches. Florida is noteworthy for having no discernible season changes. Well-known for its subpar education system, Florida is home to Florida State University, a party school known for its football team and its acceptance of anyone who has a pulse and can spell his or her own name correctly. The population here is an amalgam of inhabitants from elsewhere; if you wish to find a retired New Yorker, go to any one of Boca Raton’s 5,000 retirement communities; if you want to find a Latino/Hispanic/person whose first language is Spanish, turn around. Florida is a geographic anomaly in that the farther north you travel, the more Southern it seems (and sounds like), and the farther south you go, the more it seems like Cuba (as evidenced by the Little Havana area of Miami). Still, Florida, as a whole, is without an easily recognizable dialect. All place names here are either of Spanish (Punta Gorda, Boca Ciega) or Native American (Tallahassee, Econolockhatchee River) origin, or contain the word “orange” in them. Florida decor has inexplicably come to mean “a seafoam green and pink couch with a watercolor pelican painting.” Floridians are not known for good taste; also missing are driving skills, especially in the frequent rain, and voting know-how.
-“Florida’s a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live here.”
-“Bah! Go back to New York, you snowbird.”
Follow the brilliant career of Jonathan Bradley, noted iconoclast, libertine, and man of letters. When he's not blogging here, he blogs at The United States Studies Centre at the University of Sydney, Australia. Jonathan is the editor of American Review magazine's daily Blog Book section and a daily editor at the Singles Jukebox.
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