In August, I went to Florida. I must have blocked it out, because I just remembered my trip last week. Complaining about Massachusetts so much has reminded me that the United States offers more than a handful of states at which to poke fun. Hell, I should know: I'm from New Jersey.But, of all the states Americans should make fun of (and by Americans, I mean those of you who live on the coasts and in Chicago), Florida deserves your immediate attention. I mean, has anyone noticed how ridiculous the very fact is that a place like Florida is allowed even to exist? There is a purpose for all those square states, because at least (I think) they grow corn, or something there, but for Florida, I'm still trying to discern a reason not to push it out to sea.

First of all, there's the Florida panhandle: I don't think anyone of those "well-educated," "middle-class" individuals, who happen always to have a sunburned neck - ehem - would be opposed to joining their Confederate brothers and sisters, or rather future husbands and wives, across the Alabama border. The only rebellion might come from a small border-bar a Georgian friend of mine once described, named Florabama. But, judging from the brilliant name, I don't know if they will even notice the change.
As for Miami, well, everyone loves Miami. I guess we could spare the city and make it part of New York, or perhaps part of Cuba.
When we consider the fate of the rest of the state of Florida, however, we must show no mercy, because it is an utter wasteland of malls and strip-malls, highways and bigger highways, suburban developments and homes for the aged, old people and more and more old people.

I spent most of my time in Florida with these folks, and let me just express how afraid I was for my life around them. Once, while I was riding in my car on an average 30-lane local Florida road, I was stopped at a red light. I was in the center lane, and the older gentleman to my right, long deceased, but driving anyway, decided it would be a good idea to make a left turn from the right lane while his light was red. No harm came of the incident, as one of the few benefits of senility seems to be quick reaction time.

I was jittery, but already numb to the driving of elder Floridians, I continued. Southern Florida, I thought as I drove, is so gorgeous. There is nothing for miles around but pre-fabricated gated communities, giant-sized shopping malls and strip malls. Gorgeous. I wondered, at the time, why no one ever questioned where the towns had all gone, with their two-lane roads and downtown shopping districts. Maybe Floridians are too mesmerized by all the fake topography the state has been constructing lately, made out of hills of garbage covered in dirt and sod.

If Florida has one redeeming attribute, it is that it is home to Walt Disney World. I don't say this because I feel Disney World is a good thing, with its weird culture of robot-like politeness and eerie cartoonish perfection, but because Disney World is the only real damn town in the whole southern part of the state. I was surprised to learn that Disney World actually contains the two-lane roads of yesteryear, neighborhoods and a bustling commercial district.

Regardless of all this, Florida still manages to attract a great number of our hunched-over, senile Jewish grandparents. And, I think I know why they go there. After a life of kvetching about cities and suburbs, commutes and highways, children and vibrant life, old people need something different to complain endlessly about. Welcome to Florida, the Mortuary State.

-- Matthew Bettinger '05 submits a column to the Justice.