Dear Satan's Spawn of the Great White North (AKA: Insaitable Horde of Greedy, Selfish Old Locusts): GO. HOME.
Especially those of you from Quebec, Ontario, Toronto, Montreal, New Brunswick and Saskatoon.
Yes, on behalf of all native Floridians and even those of us who are transplants or first generationers who passionately love our state: we are sick to death of your bad driving, shitty tipping, and lousy treatment of our service workers. We are tired of standing in line behind you at Walgreens while you hold it up for 20 minutes arguing with the cashier and trying to make her take your expired coupons, you cheap, chiseling, bastard tight-wads.
We are further disgusted with the fact that you insist on packing all the roadways in your gas-hogging vehicles during rush hour and school opening and closing times. We are appalled that no disabled Floridians can get a disabled parking space anywhere because they are all packed with your Canadian-plated RVs and pimped-out camper-vans. We are weary of not being able to go to a Spring Training game, the beach, doctors offices, restaurants or even the grocery store because there is no place to park and we do not want to hear the gutteral: "Ay?" one more time. You have successfully sucked us dry. We hate you.
The Spring thaw must be in full swing by now, so go, go, please, God, I am begging you, go.
And for the record: I have never for one moment entertained ideas of living half the year in Canada upon my retirement. So I will make you a deal: you stay there and I will stay here and we can all be happy. Now fly, little starlings, fly, fly, fly.
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