During our vacation, we went here one morning in an effort to escape the swarms of farookin’ Love Bugs, which seemed to have a particular fondness for the place where we were staying.

As we drove into the State Park, the Ranger handed us a brochure, which said something like, “Do not feed the animals in the park, including the alligators.”

Jimbo: “SAY WHAT?? Alli-farookin’gators? Turn this goddamned car around!”

The Usual Suspects took great delight at my shitting in my pants simply as a result of reading the brochure. On we went.

As we checked out the various roads in the park, I wondered where alligators might lurk. It took about three minutes to find these Evergladely like stream things with dense growth right up to the water’s edge on both sides. “Alligator City,” without a doubt.

One such road led directly to a bank of one of the Evergladey stream things on which were canoes and kayaks that one could rent. At the place where the water meets the ground was a sign that said, “No Swimming. Alligators present.”

No Swimming? NO SHIT!

To me, “swimming” includes what one’s sorry ass has to do once a canoe or a kayak capsizes in that stinking Evergladey water. I’ve never been in a kayak, but I have been in canoes, and those suckers flip over if you sneeze wrong.

I want to know who are the nimrods who would rent (i.e. PAY to use) a canoe or a kayak and shove off from the place where you have been clearly warned that “swimming” might turn you into alligator lunch?

Crazy bastards!