Those of us who live in BrowardDadePalm, otherwise known as New York’s Sixth Borough, sometimes forget that Florida is still, in many ways, a backward Southern state.

Take, for example, its quaint, retrograde attitude that the mere existence of homosexuals threatens the very—on second thought, don’t take it. I’ve dealt with this many times in other cartoons.

Instead, take education—the polish on human consciousness that supposedly separates us from the beasts that slither and crawl along the face of the earth. It turns out that our state university system has just about the lowest tuition in the country, roughly half the average. It also has one of the highest student-to-teacher ratios. We read of the best professors leaving the state because they can’t get a decent cost-of-living raise.

You get what you pay for. Some would say that as long as you still have partying and sports, which the Florida system has in abundance, then you’ve pretty much covered the important stuff, anyhow.

When I played rugby in school Up North, we tackled the issue with typical New England efficiency. During halftime, they trotted large amounts of a vile regional brew called Genesee Cream Ale onto the field. Its rancid bouquet was mitigated only by its price, which was roughly five bucks for a case of twenty-four. Yes, even thirty-five years ago, that was pretty cheap.

See how my mind wanders? Must be the Genny Cream.