Well, that's fair. I had lived in the swamps of interior Florida for thirty-some of my years, having been born there, two miles of sand-gravel-mud track from th

Well, that's fair. I had lived in the swamps of interior Florida for thirty-some of my years, having been born there, two miles of sand-gravel-mud track from the nearest pavement. Miiiiles of cattle. Internet from our little radio tower. So yeah, that's pretty idiosyncratic. I'm sure it's not representative. The locals had just managed to shut down the volunteer fire department year before I finally left. Another notable instance from that year is four county cops getting blown up in a meth house, which was super hinky in lots of ways. A while before that, there was a deputy or somesuch that kept on stabbing people he pulled over. Of course he got slapped on the fanny, but then out he goes again, and another few months - bam! - stab a dude. Another local cop cussed the same way old telegrams used the word STOP, which was super weird with the inlaws in the car. Our local cops all the way up and down were notorious even to other cops. Buddy of mine with the State Troopers had a working regulation, that if they were called on scene by one of the local cops, to always make sure that more than one trooper responded. "The hell?", I think I said at the time. He shrugged and said, "They don't trust 'em, that's all." But the worst - the absolute worst - were all those people who moved out into the middle of a frickin' swamp prairie and complained how the cows mooed too loud. "And the snakes!". Or when their pets "get et" - by raptor, gator, or who-knows-what. Or "I think I heard shots from your house!". Oh for pete's sake lady, the paved road is TWO MILES from here . .