The state of Florida, as we all know, is a shithole of unequaled repugnance and slime. The state offers many distinct regions, each one vying for the recognition of most idiots per square mile, but the sewage stinking metropolis of Tampa St. Petersburg has its eye on the title of vilest urb within the fetid boundaries of the Gator State. The gator is an apt state animal for this cesspool of American un-exceptionalism, floating there in the shallow diseased water with its beady eyes looking for any piece of garbage that might float by and thus be consumed by its disgustingly long crooked tooth filled snout. The whole state is filled with uneducated paranoid nincanpoops, pregnant twelve year olds, meth addicts and hipocracy burdened fatcats with five car garages and not even a spark of intellect or charm. In Tampa St Pete particularly, among the real estate scams, daily ripoffs, corrupt public officials, and dime a dozen hucksters, one can barely breathe while driving down its soft boulevards paved with the bones of the honest and dignified people crushed by the tsunami of perversion and pathology. The dead fish float on the surface of the bay as daily reminders to the toxic effluent spewing from the hearts and lungs of the nefarious demonic citizens of this so called city, who, as a matter of fact, rose up through the earth from their birthing grounds in the damp dark soil of Hades. One can tromp through the mangrove swamps by the bay. Littered with aborted fetuses, decapitated mistresses, castrated snitches and the bodies of discarded used-up migrant workers. Yeah sure, find a clearing with a nice shady spot. Spread out your blanket and unpack your picnic basket.
THE MOSSY BOG 