I am that rara avis in terris, a native Floridian. Not just a native, but in at least one strand of my lineage, a sixth-generation Floridian. In the land of retirees and military stations, there aren’t very many of us.
And on behalf of the couple of dozen of us who consider the Sunshine State to be our ancestral home, let me tell y’all: we are getting tired of this.
Casey Anthony, George Zimmerman, the face-eating zombie … None of the morons who have gotten their fifteen minutes of fame lately represent the Florida I know and love. Go all the way back to the days of the hanging chads (remember those?) and you can see that the media feeds on stuff that makes my state look ridiculous.
So, in light of my recent excursion to watch a gripping dramatization of the lengths to which young men must go to make a living in this economy (aka Magic Mike), I thought I would give you an example of my Florida.
Remember, this is the land of football, beaches, and military guys. That’s why true Floridians know that our best home-grown product isn’t citrus or strawberries – its the Boys from Old Florida.
Without further ado, I give you the Pride of Tampa, Mr Channing Tatum!