You can leave Florida, but you can’t always leave Florida behind. Something happens if you spend too much time in the Sunshine State, an almost imperceptible warping. It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity. There’s always something there to remind you, whether running into someone on the street or at a party, or some bit of cultural flotsam, some regional esoterica trapped in the back of your brain just waiting to be dislodged. It could happen while reading BoingBoing and coming across a post about the infomercial for Family Auto Mart only to be transported back to your college apartment, slumped on the couch with bong in hand, trying to figure out if Family Man and Family Boy were a joke or in on the joke — the most committed of performance artists. Or were they just fat guys doing cartwheels to sell cars, bellowing their high-pitched hog call of “Faaaamily Auto Mart.” Like the the Appliance Direct tag line — “you paid too much!” — the phrase “Family Auto Mart” is indelible, not necessarily readily accessible but there in the recesses of a febrile Florida mind .
And to whoever runs the “Guide to All Things Tacky Fabulous in Orlando” blog, you are fantastic.