FUN WAYS TO AGGRAVATE PEOPLE

FUN WAYS TO AGGRAVATE PEOPLE

Ask people what gender they are.

Practice making fax and modem noises.

Learn Morse code, and have conversations with friends in public consisting entirely of "Beeeep Bip Bip Beeeep Bip..."

If you have a glass, tap on it occasionally with your pen while talking to others.

Speak only in a "robot" voice.

Blow your nose when some one is eating.

Start each meal by conspicuously licking all your food, and announce that this is so no one will "eat away your food " !

Stomp on little plastic ketchup packets.

Name your dog "Dog."

Claim that you must always wear a bicycle helmet as part of your "astronaut training."

Declare your apartment an independent nation, and sue your neighbors upstairs for "violating your airspace."

Highlight irrelevant information in scientific papers and "cc:" them to your boss.

Invent nonsense computer jargon in conversations, and see if people play along to avoid the appearance of ignorance.

Erect an elaborate network of ropes in your backyard, and tell the neighbors you are a "spider person."

Finish all your sentences with the words "in accordance with prophesy."

Disassemble your pen and "accidentally" flip the ink cartridge across the room.

Holler random numbers while someone is counting.

Adjust the tint on your TV so that all the people are green, and insist to others that you "like it that way."

Drum on every available surface.

Staple papers in the middle of the page.

Write the surprise ending to a novel on its first page.

Set alarms for random times.

Change channels five minutes before the end of every show.

ONLY TYPE IN UPPERCASE.

only type in lowercase.

dont use any punctuation either

Repeat everything someone says, as a question.

Repeat the following conversation a dozen times: "Do you hear that?" "What?" "Never mind, it's gone now."

Stand over someone's shoulder, mumbling, as they read.

Inform others that they exist only in your imagination.

Chew on pens that you've borrowed.

Wear a LOT of cologne.

Go to a poetry recital and ask why each poem doesn't rhyme.

Ask your co-workers mysterious questions, and then scribble their answers in a notebook. Mutter something about "psychological profiles."

Stare at static on the TV and claim you can see a "magic picture."

Select the same song on the jukebox fifty times.

Never make eye contact.

Never break eye contact.

Make appointments for the 31st of September.

Invite lots of people to other people's parties.

PLUG FOR MY NEW BOOK

          A QUICK PLUG FOR 
             MY NEW BOOK

But first, a few very important things you should know about how it all began.

In the beginning, God said, "Adam, I gave you that really nifty penis to use, not sit around and stare at all day. Now, get out there and poke something."

Adam replied, "Up yours, dude. These animals get really pissed when I try that stuff, and I'm not getting my ass clawed all to hell just so you can watch."

God thought for a moment. "How about I create you a bitch?"

"Cool," said Adam. "You make it; I'll poke it."

So, God created Eve and said, "Adam, this is Eve."

To which Adam exclaimed, "Wow! Look at those tits."

At this, Eve uttered a disgusted "Harrumph," turned on her heels, and stomped off to another part of the garden.

God, sensing trouble, hurried after her, and catching up asked, "Jesus, Eve. Why are you being such a twit?"

Eve replied, "Who's Jesus?"

God said, "Never mind. What I'm concerned about is you copping an attitude just because Adam appreciates a nice rack."

Eve began to cry.

"Christ, Eve," said God. "Stop with the waterworks."

Eve sobbed, "Who's Christ?

"Never mind," yelled God, getting a little flustered. "Look. Here's the deal. It's the beginning, right? This is the time I create stuff, so I created, well, you know… all the stuff. When it was all done I decided to put something alive in this snazzy garden I'd thrown together. So, I created a penis cause I thought it would be fun to watch it poke at things. I put it here in the garden, but it just lay there on the ground doing nothing. So I put some legs on it so it could get around, but it kept bumping into things, so I stuck a brain on top to show it where to go. That worked fine, and I named it Adam. Your job is to let it poke at you once in a while. Now, is that asking too much?"

Still sobbing, Eve asked, "But why is it such a pig, and how about a little romance?"

"Number one," replied God, "it's not a pig, it's a penis. Number two, well, sorry, but I didn't add any romance to it, only that poking instinct. That's really all it is, just a penis with a brain to point it towards something to poke at."

Pondering her options, Eve demanded, "Okay, I'll let it poke at me occasionally, but you have to let me run the world."

God said, "Uh, that'll be a little tough since it's bigger than you. But wait, I've got an idea. I'll put something really cool on you like... oh, I don't know... I'll think of something—something that will pretty much guarantee things will always go your way. How's that?"

Eve, now assured she would always be in control of the world and anxious to get started, agreed, then walked back to where Adam was waiting and said, "Hi there big boy! Gee, have you been working out?"

So, after all was said and done, everything worked out just fine. God's happy, Eve's happy and Adam thinks he's happy.

ON THE OTHER HAND - THE ALTERNATIVE

In the beginning, God created Adam and placed him in the Garden of Eden where Adam lived a wonderful, happy, fulfilled life. God, who obviously is a woman—since no man would have invented circumcision—became agitated at seeing Adam so happy, so she created Eve and said, "Eve, go down there and stir up some shit."

Now, Eve, being freshly created, and having no idea how to go about stirring up shit, asked, "How, exactly, do I do that?"

And God, who is no stranger to stirring up shit herself, answered, "Just be yourself."

So Eve went down to the Garden of Eden where, much to the dismay of Adam and all his descendants, she and all her descendants have been stirring their little brains out ever since. Not deliberately, of course, just "being themselves."

Although the story above is fiction, the female propensity for stirring is not. The woman's instinct to keep the air redolent with the smell of shit comes not from a vengeful, man hating, penis-envying, lesbian God, but from the fact that they're smaller than men, have less effect on their physical environment, and get pushed around all their lives. It's their way of saying, "I Exist!" It's the female version of Cogito Ergo Sum – "I stir shit, therefore I am." A strong man can move mountains, shape history, and rule worlds. But, unfortunately, man's majestic accomplishments often collapse under the weight of the unbelievable amount of shit a tiny little woman can stir up. A good example of this was the mighty Samson.... and little, friggin, Delilah.

Understanding the shit stirring instinct, and other bizarre female behavior, requires understanding how smaller organisms use rationalization to, figuratively, level the playing field in order to compete with larger organisms—in this case small women belittling large men in an attempt to create an imagined equality between the sexes. The small female's most obvious effort to affect the above is to corrupt the larger male's basic attitudes and needs by attaching nonsensical values to his actions and motivations. So adept is the female at stirring up shit that she can, in this case, stir where no actual shit exists.

The female's most effective attack on the larger male is to denigrate the male attribute she covets the most: his penis. By attaching frivolous relevance to that most envied object she attempts to deny the male at least one of his symbols of dominance. Creating such myths as ‘Men like guns because guns remind them of their penis’ is one such attempt to ridicule men's values, thus leveling the field. Women tend to think this is very effective although, in truth it is abhorrent—to say the least—for men to discharge, or even imagine discharging, large caliber weapons, especially those with substantial muzzle blasts, in even the general area of what women secretly consider a magnificent organ.

So, the bottom line is, the next time you take a date to your favorite biker bar, and she starts getting that glazed look on her face... you better get the hell outa there before she starts to stir.

Now that we have an idea of what we’re up against, let’s move on.

...BUT UNCLE JOHN, WHAT IF I'M GAY?

In the interest of accuracy, Uncle John asked a lot of gay people to help out with the subject of getting gay dates. They all said, "fuck off" ...except for one transvestite biker named Dede, who proved to be very knowledgeable on the subject. Uncle John couldn't find any lesbians who would cooperate, so you girls are on your own, which doesn't matter since Dede says that most women are a wee bit 'bi' anyway.

Dede says, the most important thing is to make sure you are actually gay before going out to look for dates. Dede says, being with another guy, in bed, naked, on your knees, is not a good time to look over your shoulder and say, "You know what? I don't think I'm gay after all." It's rude and extremely disappointing to the guy behind you.

Dede says the following can help you determine if you are really gay:

Do you like Quiche?

Do you wear a fanny pack?

Have you ever said the word, "Moi?"

Do you carry a bottle of water around with you?

Do you wear tank tops after dark?

Do you change your underwear every single day?

Do you honestly think a man and a woman can be "just friends?"

Do you drive a PT Cruiser?

Do you have a dog that requires professional grooming?

Do you put that blue-colored stuff in your toilet?

Do you sip alcoholic drinks from a straw?

Do you like Kenny G?

No shit, do you really like Kenny G?

Do you have a cowboy hat but no cow?

Do you pay 4 bucks for a friggin' cup of coffee at Starbucks?

Do you go around acting macho and calling people faggots, queers and screaming queens?

Dede says, if you answer "yes" to any 3 of the above, you're probably gay and are reasonably safe in pursuing your gayness.

Now that you have determined that you are actually gay—as opposed to just enjoying an occasional colonoscopy—you should move to Key West. Everybody there is gay, and finding dates is much simpler. However, even in Key West there are some places that are not good for finding gay dates, like Lamaze classes, monster truck rallies, etc. Incidentally, don't go rushing off to Holland... that "finger in the Dyke" story has absolutely nothing to do with the subject.

Actually, truth be told, there is no 'Dede, the transvestite biker' and Uncle John doesn't have a clue as to how to go about getting a gay date... unless... well, ...you might try hanging around the showers at the health club... but, good luck anyway.

P.S.

If you are gay and would, seriously, like to offer some, humorous but helpful dating advice to others (since Uncle John, being very wise in every other way, is a little untutored on this subject), email Uncle John at: good_old_uncle_john@askunclejohn.com

(it would be a real plus if your name happened to be "Dede the transvestite biker").

That's all you get. Buy the book at amazon:

 SNEAKY TRICKS for snagging dates and meeting people

Goodbye Lucifer by John Harold McCoy

Available at Amazon

Hell closes down when Lucifer falls in love, quits his job as the Prince of Darkness, and becomes a bartender in Ft. Lauderdale.

Deep in the rugged mountains of southern West Virginia, nestled in the cradle of an idyllic little valley, the tiny town of Brandell, and its colorful cast of quirky characters, hold an ancient secret.
Here, in this most unlikely of places, the women of Brandell Valley cook, clean, shop, gossip, dream, fall in love – and guard the gates of Hell. The tranquility of daily life in the valley is disrupted when Lucifer finds a way out of the depths. He simply quits his job as the devil, packs his bags, and heads for Florida. Pandemonium erupts in the valley when, without the devil to keep things in check, various demons find their way out of Hell and wander into Brandell. A rather likeable Lucifer, decidedly un-evil demons, sorcery gone awry, romance and hilarity are the theme of this heart-warming very tall tale.

                                        

WANT TO PERFORM ON A CRUISE SHIP?

Hey, here's a little tip for you. If you get sick on a boat, eat a can of stewed tomatoes…doesn’t help but it looks pretty in the water.

Anyway, so I get on the ship for an eight week gig...go to my cabin...put my stuff away...go back out on the deck - and everybody there, everybody on the whole ship...is naked...naked people everywhere...not pretty naked people -  flabby old naked people. Then I saw the sign...big banner. "Welcome to our annual nudist cruise." Somebody forgot to tell me that. I'd just bought a new suit. All those beautiful people you see in the picture on the internet didn't show up...the entire membership of AARP did...obviously from Miami ...not a foreskin in the bunch.

Eight weeks on a ship with 2000 naked retirees...things I never wanted to see flopping and bouncing...naked old ladies playing volleyball...that picture burnt in my brain!

...bunch of naked people in a cramped ships elevator...and every time it stops at a floor it does that little bounce, and flips things you don't notice when you're dressed. I started to punch the elevator button, and a guy in the back said, "ballroom"...so we all gave him a little more room. Ever occur to you that elevators smell different to midgets?

Anyway, the first few hours...kinda weird but you get over it. Got your mirrored sun sunglasses. Sit down with a group of people, get acquainted, have a cup of coffee. Oh, the ship moves, so hang on to that cup; don't wanna spill that shit on Mr. happy.

I sent my mother a picture…cut the bottom half off so she wouldn’t see I was naked. I think I sent the wrong half 'cause I got a letter back that said, "Change your hairstyle. That one makes your nose look too long."

If you ever go on a nudist cruise, here's a few little tips...like, humor is fine, but quickly rotating your hips, and with a little flip, pointing, "over there"...bad taste. When you're sitting around...and people are standing around...be careful where you yawn. And if you're a midget, don't go around sticking your nose in everybody's business. By the same token, if you're very tall, don't go around sticking your business in everybody's nose. Also, if you're standing, and someone is sitting behind you, don't turn suddenly. That can be a real slap in the face.

If you've been on a ship you'll know about this; the toilets on a ship are vacuum operated. There's a very powerful vacuum in all the pipes. Which means somewhere in the bottom of the ship is one big friggin' Hoover…and it’s connected to the toilet in your cabin. So there you are on your first cruise…you're in your cabin…you have to go to the bathroom, so you go in and sit down on the toilet. If you happen to be constipated...not to worry... first time you flush that thing it's gonna scare the crap right out of you - you’re like…damn…what’d I do? Did we hit an iceberg? You hear Celine Dion singing that song... When you go to the bathroom on a ship, do your business...then stand up...then flush it. Never flush that toilet while you’re sitting on it. If you flush that toilet while your sitting on it, it'll suck your tongue right out your ass...8 decks below...down into the bowels of the ship...and you're gonna spend the next hour trying to get it back where it belongs. It's a good thing they don't have bidets - you walk in the bathroom...find your wife splattered all over the ceiling.

The "bowels of the ship"... where'd that come from? Ships ain't got no bowels. If they had bowels I wouldn't go in 'em. You go in the bowels of the ship, the ship farts, and you're outa there...deep six...so long sucker.

In the evening you stand at the back of the ship looking out over the ocean at the sunset, the wake of the ship sparkling in last rays of sunlight...in the water, the glistening trail of... sewage. The law says it has to be dumped beyond the 3 mile limit...out where the fishermen go for the really fresh fish. Flotsam and jetsam. If you're not sure what flotsam and jetsam is - "jetsam" is just things they throw away...broken chair, toss it overboard. That’s jetsam. "Flotsam," on the other hand, is just what the word sounds like. Anytime you're around a cruise ship look down in the water. You'll see a flot or 2 floating around down there.

Anyway, if you ever see me playing on a ship, be sure and say, "Hello." (if you're naked, please don't offer to shake my hand)

EVOLUTION FOR KIDS

Once, a million years ago, there was a family of Putzes: a mother Putz, a father Putz and several little ones. Among the little ones was a male named Schlup, and although Putzes were generally uniform in shape and size, Schlup—as the result of an unfortunate gene mutation—looked just plain funny. All the other Putzes made fun of Schlup because, unlike a normal decent Putz with eyes located on the side of his head where they belonged, Schlup's eyes were a little more to the front of his face, and although normal in every other respect, you had to admit, for a Putz, Schlup was butt ugly.
Time went by and Schlup grew into a strong, healthy—albeit ugly—teenaged Putz, and was allowed to accompany the adults on the daily hunt for Squrds—which is what Putzes eat. When a group of Squrds were spotted, all the Putzes, including Schlup, rushed off to catch one. Squrds are delicious, though a bit bitter for my tastes. Now, a Squrd can run very fast and zigzags around, but if you're good at judging distances you can usually catch one, and that day almost everyone did, except Schlup, who caught two. All the other Putzes, worn out from trying to catch just one Squrd, were amazed that ugly Schlup was able to catch two—an unheard of feat. Although very handsome, Putzes are stupid, and could not be expected to figure out that, because of Schlup's eyes being located more to the front of his face thereby enhancing his depth perception, he was better able to judge the speed and distance between himself and the zigzagging Squrds, and from that day on while everyone else had to settle for one Squrd a day Schlup gorged himself on two, and as a result became stronger and healthier than all the other Putzes. He was still ugly, though.

Schlup's best friend had a sister named Betty who was really hot—great legs, eyes in the right place, etc. One day while everyone was sitting around picking fleas, Schlup became aware of an odd smell emanating from Betty that made him itch in a way he instinctively knew was not the result of flea bites. He also noticed the other males were similarly affected; they were sniffing around Betty and had begun fighting among themselves while Betty waited to see who won. Schlup, being stronger and healthier than the others, banged them all in the head and dragged Betty into some nearby bushes. Sometime later Betty gave birth to some little Schlups with weird eyes like their daddy, but also like their daddy, were able to catch more Squrds. When Schlup's children grew up they, in turn, had children with weird eyes, and so did their children and so on until the "Schlup and Betty" line of Putzes dominated the Squrd hunts, and the "normal" Putzes all died of hunger.

For many years life went on as usual for the new line of Putzes until one day, as the result of an another unfortunate gene mutation, a young Putz named Ralph—with slightly longer arms than usual and who was made fun of by the other Putzes—found that he could reach the juicy fruit on trees that, for others, was too high to reach, thus, supplementing his diet of Squrds and making him stronger and healthier than the other Putzes...and there was this hot girl named Martha...then there was an odd smell, sniffing, fighting, Ralph banging everybody on the head, into the bushes with Martha, etc. Eventually, the "Ralph and Martha" line of Putzes—with longer arms and weird eyes—replaced the Putzes that only had weird eyes. During the next thousands and thousands of years there were so many gene mutations—like longer legs, straighter backbones, tactile senses, not to mention hotter girls with better smells, then more sniffing and fighting ending with the mutant and the hot girl in the bushes—that the original stumpy, normal eyed, ground hugging, short legged Putzes, evolved into a magnificent, intelligent, successful species, later wiped out by man to make room for condominiums. This is how evolution works...well, at least for a Putz.

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EVERYBODY IS A POET

 

                                  

              My last wife complained that I never wrote her poetry.

                                             So, I did.

                            A POEM A DAY FOR THREE DAYS

                                                  

DAY ONE

A sonnet, song, poetic verse
I've promised that I would converse
About a subject unsurpassed
What other but your beauteous ass

To compare of course would be a start
But thinking, would that be so smart
For what would compare
To what is there
So sumptuously
Behind loves lair

Failing else compare I'll try
Like poets through the ages I
Will look for things up in the sky
For wondrous things are there
That may compare
To what you bare
Behind your lovely lair

A lunar reference might suffice
Though round and shines with inner light
It wanes, it's cold, there's no delight
Far, untouchable in the night
It's not as nice
And to be suggestive of my subject
Needs be seen twice as through unfocused eyes
An image of two sensuous orbs side by side
With a hint, a dark and secret path
Still not as nice or adorned with
Simple elegance
Of flesh as your enigmatic ass

Stars, nebulous and galaxies strewn
Across the sky
Like shards of twinkling broken glass
Have been used to describe things
Much less phenomenal
Than your delicate ass

So there's nothing I can find
To compare and bring to mind
That of which I speak alas
Your fine young supple Elysian ass


DAY TWO


You'll find upon further perusal
That this rhyme has no definite use all
Though if you've some time to expend
A smile may result in the end

I shall dedicate this little ditty
To a particularly cute little titty
Though pert in a shirt I'm sorry to say
At the beach it's decidedly gritty

At this point it may well behoove me
To explain why there's only one booby
In my narration there's no explanation
I just said it like that so sue me

It's certainly plain to me
Pleasurably plain to see
That there are two
Less wouldn't do
And you'd terribly unbalanced with three

Although of course you're aware
I'm enamored of your derriere
My delight at that end isn't more so
Than that I derive from your torso

Now I've revealed your attributes from end to end
Laid you graphically bare with my mighty pen
But one lingering mystery we've yet to explore
For that my pen rests as I pick up my sword


DAY THREE


At last this trilogy expended
The fore adored, the aft upended
Leaving but the hinterland
To speak of and appraise

The blossoms having been applauded
Pistils, petals, stems and all its
Splendor offered freely
In a quite poetic way

Would you believe that deep within that flower
Unsuspected lies a dowry
that's known to me
And possibly a few

A warm and secret place
Of hidden pleasures there awaits
The ones whose passions and desires
Bid them pass through

I my self have entered
Through the portals of the hinterland
I speak of and have lain secure
In fetal like repose

A hint of déjà vu
A haven, new but not so new
A salmon instinct like returning
To a place a man must go

Deep within the depths
With fragrant petals I'm caressed
Rewards of ecstasy surrounding
All I am

Let me now suggest
That in preceding poems I jest
Although believe me my appreciation stands
Of those things enjoyed aesthetically
But with this last soliloquy
I give appreciation
As a man

VISIT MY STATE

Miami Beach
- the jewel of South Florida - a thin strip of glitter and sand...the sounds and smells of the bustling city of Miami wafting across the bay...the soft chattering of far away Uzis...the musty smell of backyard marijuana plants...young people in sidewalk cafes smoking cigarettes that, ever now and then, go "pop!" On the beaches, old men with metal detectors looking for lost coins in the sand, and kids looking for hastily discarded packages in the water. From just over the horizon, the throaty roar of overloaded go-fast boats making a run for the river...tourist experiencing exciting Cuban cuisine and diarrhea.

Key West
- the colorful and exotic southernmost tip of America...a city of friendship...people walking hand-in-hand with other people their same height...a tropical vacation spot with diverse and confusing arrays of flora, fauna, gender...a city of unique people escaping from the normal ins and outs (so to speak).

Orlando
- center of the state - the throbbing heart of the Florida...home of Mickey, who likes kids a little but mostly likes pictures of dead presidents...nearby...Rollins College, a liberal arts school, where the "better" people send their kids to college (not those "other" people - you know the ones...). With a degree in liberal arts, from Rollins College, a graduate is qualified to say, "Is that for here, or to go?"

Ocala
- quiet and rural in nature...home of Silver Springs, mermaids and thousands of poor people whose job is to clean up the barns of the many rich horse breeders in the surrounding area. Located in the Ocala Natural Forest where there are mostly just trees, and where you should watch your step cause, yes, bears do.

The Great Everglades
- the Everglades National Park...home of the clever Indians that make paste out of semen...you've probably heard of the Seminal Indians...yet untamed and primitive - the only tribe that has never signed a treaty with the United States....a tribe that has historically rejected missionaries (who try to get the squaws to cover their bodies) cause the Indian braves like breasts.

Gainesville
- Home of Florida's largest Rave, the University of Florida and it's well known football team, the "Florida Gators" (originally, the "Florida Alligators," but many high school graduates had never heard the whole word so...)

Tallahassee
- Capitol of the state and center of power...Date Palms, Coconut Palms, Royal Palms and traditional home of the Outstretched Palm. A place of constant activity and excitement where the leaders of government determine the fate of their off-shore accounts. Site of Florida State University, located close to Alabama so kids from there can go to a college where townsfolk go...and it's premier football team, the Seminoles (taken from the clever Indians of the same name).

I'm a native Floridian.
We used to make fun of people from up north that came down to Ponce De Leon springs to buy water from the fountain of youth. Big joke in Florida...selling water to Yankees. Now, our water is so bad we have to buy water from up north. Big joke up north...selling water to Floridians...they probably piss in it before they send it down...I would. 

If you're from up north
Please don't feed our alligators. They're not very smart...they think food drops off of other food...and if you feed em...you're the other food. It makes them think ummmm, this piece was good, maybe he's tasty. That makes them curious about people...then we have to trap and kill them; otherwise, they'll eat you, your children, your dog and your cat. It's their nature to bite things that's why God didn't make them cuddly.

The big cats you see out in our woods are called Florida Panthers. Go ahead and pet em - they're cuddly (hehe).Endangered species, not many left...so the state (in it's dubious wisdom) decided to imported some bigger, stronger, meaner ones from Wyoming. I guess they figure we don't have enough dangerous animals in Florida, and we're gettin' too soft. We got enough bears, rabid racoons, alligators, wildcats hornets, snakes, sting rays, jelly fish, fire ants and

 sharks...but, apparently, we don't have enough vicious Panthers to chase us down and gut us...too damn many noisy kids running around back yards...Panthers'll fix that 

Our state is home to many thousands of beautiful young women. Please do not remove them. They're for the use of Native Floridians only. Florida is strictly BYOB...bring your own friggin' broad and leave ours alone. If it's necessary for you to take any of ours out of state, please return them in a timely manner. As in other states, each town you visit in Florida will offer a few older ones for general use...usually for a small fee. 

Hunting in Florida ... We have specific seasons for various game however you're allowed to keep anything you find dead in the road. Recipes are available on the internet

 at www.scrapeitupandeatit.com.

Fishing in Florida...gotta have night-crawlers to fish...big fat juicy ones...they come out and crawl at night and that's when you catch 'em. If you know where they are you can dig 'em out in the daytime, but they don't like that...they know what's going on. They're like, "Shit, you're going fishing, aren't you? ...stick a hook up my ass and dangle me from a cork...you sick bastard!"

 They're not stupid. They're  deaf, dumb, blind, and don't have a brain, but they pic up on vibes, and if you pull 'em out of the ground in the daytime they instinctively know they're screwed ...today is hook in the ass day. But you gotta have night crawlers. You can put 'em in your garden too. They make fertilizer. They eat dirt...dirt goes in one end...dirt comes out the other end...it's still dirt...but better dirt...worm dirt is better than plain dirt...it's organic fertilizer that doesn't actually taste like shit on your onions.

Swimming off our beaches. We have sharks. We don't have great whites...but we gotta lot of average whites...and they'll be happy to dine on you, so if you see a shark, get out of the water...common sense. This is another example of things that aren't cuddly. 

We have Sting rays. Sting rays aren't aggressive, but if you step on one it'll sting the hell out of you. They bury themselves in the sand, so if you shuffle your feet along the bottom then when you touch one, it'll get up and swim away...plus, it's a great way to find shiny pieces of broken glass. 

We have Jelly fish. Jellyfish stings are very painful. If you're in the water and a jellyfish wraps all around you, well, ...piss on it. Really, piss on it...that's what you do...at least that's the old accepted remedy. There's something in urine that helps...I think its piss. (FYI - this is an old "folk" type remedy. It is untrue and can cause infection). 

We have Barracudas. Unlike sharks, which grab you, pull you down and eat you, barracudas just take bites...not too bad...unless there's ten barracudas...then you're like a ear of corn. 

We have crabs. When your lying on the beach blue craps are standing around waiting for the sun to bake you to death saying, "Is he done yet?"

In other words, while your in our state remember God's Cuddly Rule! ...soft and furry, small teeth, big brown eyes, "YES"...long sharp teeth, claws, spines and tentacles, "NO." Welcome to Florida, enjoy your stay.