OK, that’s just being provocative… maybe.
I’ve been listening to a lot of Carl Hiaasen as of late. I love Audible and listening to Carl’s (I call him Carl, not Mr. Hiaasen, we’re tight like that) stories of crime, punishment and crazy ex-governors really helps pass time during my 2,000 miles/month of driving.
His stories happen in places I either like, or would like if I ever saw them myself (and often involve, indirectly, a fly rod). Biscayne Bay, the Keys, the Bahamas. His stories are, on the surface, stories about criminals and low-lifes and the people who go out of their way to deal justice. On a deeper level, those crimes almost always have to do with plowing up some bit of mangrove or draining some bit of marshland (crimes I think deserve Hiaasen-esque retribution). He is certainly not in the pro-growth camp, with a pretty palpable dislike of tourists, snowbirds and anyone who wants to blindly own their own bit of paradise.
If you are thinking of moving to Florida… you should know… Carl Hiaasen hates you.
I understand the threat. I’ve been on Google Earth and seen the Bahamas, subdivided and paved, roads to nowhere that would destroy so many simply wonderful places. It would be so easy to lose so much. The Keys and Florida are more prone to destruction, given our efficiency in such matters.
It is a tension. I love those places. I would live in those places if I could (I can’t, Carl, so don’t sick Skink on me), but it is pretty easy to see if we all lived in these places they would be destroyed.
These places seem to always be one bulldozer, one cruise ship, one oil tanker away from going away. Maybe it isn’t hatred. Maybe it’s just fear of losing what he loves. I can understand how Carl feels… and I wish Skink was real.
Tags: Carl Hiaasen