Get Outta My Face

When I run for elected office -- I'm debating President of the United States or President of my book club -- know this:  My solution for vamoosing some of our kajillion dollars in national debt will include the sale of Florida.

I've floated this idea before in the Twittersphere, and it gained huge traction among my dozens of followers.  My list for why the state should be forced into secession is now one bullet point longer.  And this is the kind of bullet point that eclipses every other point in the history of bullets.

• Florida is where people get their faces eaten.

Kinda gives a whole new meaning to "face-to-face confrontation."  Or "in your face."  Or "facial."

I am going to stop that train of thought in its tracks.  It's on a one-way trip to Disrespectful Town.  Actually, it may have already reached its destination.

Because what went down in Miami this past Saturday afternoon is the height of horrific gruesomeness.  If you haven't heard about it, you probably live in a viewing area where the broadcasters get to nix any storyline that makes their news anchors vomit in their mouths as they try to keep up with the teleprompter. 

Whether you come at this post with zero background or a growing portfolio of newspaper clippings on the event, I'd recommend you put down the Mountain Dew and the pop rockets.  Both because that's a dangerous combination and because things are about to get nasty up in here.

Here's the deal.  A guy was taking a leisurely bike ride near the Miami causeway at 2PM on Saturday afternoon.  As he was enjoying the light Memorial Day weekend traffic and the smell of suntan lotion in the air, something caught his eye.  That something was the sight of two naked, grown men on the sidewalk near the causeway.  One of those men was leaning over the body of the other in a Crouching Maniac, Hidden Cannibal kind of way.  As the biker approached, he experienced one of those moments in life that isn't a moment in life because this moment never has previously happened in anyone's life.  He realized that Crouching Maniac was chewing.  Specifically, he was chewing the face of the other man.

The preceding sentence is literal.  I am not trying to pull some grammatical trick for literary effect.  Literally, Crouching Maniac was eating the face of the hapless victim.

The biker yelled at Crouching Maniac to stop.  Maybe the biker also threw a Power Bar at him to see if that would work as some kind of distraction.  No dice.  So the biker took off as fast as his 10-speed would carry him and flagged down the first cop he could find.  Said cop approached the scene and repeated the pleas for Crouching Maniac to please stop with the mid-afternoon massacre already.  Again, no dice.  In fact, Crouching Maniac's only response was to GROWL at the cop.  So the cop shot Crouching Maniac.  And even THAT didn't work.  Crouching Maniac wouldn't stop crouching or being a maniac until the cop had shot him several times, resulting in Crouching Maniac's death.

You know you're witnessing quite a scene when multiple deadly gunshot wounds seem like the most humane offering this side of a Mother Theresa sponge bath.

When the carnage finally ended, the victim was rushed to the hospital with only his goatee remaining.  Again, the preceding sentence is literal. 

In the aftermath, the cop that came upon naked Hannibal Lecter wasn't identified because he was so traumatized.  The biker has been interviewed in the press.  The fact that he can still talk pre-qualifies him for some kind of diplomatic post in Syria or Russia, I think.  Because that's fortitude.

The rest of the free world is wondering what in God's name is wrong with Florida.

While the authorities remain tight-lipped (perhaps because of a new-found appreciation for their lips), there have been reports that some suspect that Crouching Maniac was high on bath salts.  One policeman noted that bath salts often cause people to become super-humanly violent and inspire them to take off their clothes.  He adroitly noted that he was previously unaware of bath salts inspiring someone to eat the face of another man.

Bath salts, you wonder?  Those little crystals that are supposed to dissolve but remain disturbingly solid in that relaxing bath you never have time to take?  Yup, those are the ones.  Apparently those are the new street drug of choice. 

They are sold by legitimate stores under the guise of being actual bath salts or deodorizers or pool cleaners.  They come in small packets, containing just the right amount to ingest or snort for a meth-like high.  While Florida banned these products last year, they can't keep up with the manufacturers, who simply change the chemical compounds of the crystals to remain one step ahead of the law and its pesky bans.

According to the DEA, users of bath salts experience highs whose side effects include "agitation, insomnia, irritability, dizziness, depression, paranoia, delusions, suicidal thoughts, seizures, and panic attacks.  Users have also reported effects including impaired perception of reality, reduced motor control, and decreased ability to think clearly."  One dude, who bragged about all the other drugs he'd done, said his high off "bath salts" lasted 8 agonizing days, during which he wanted to kill himself and everyone around him.

A high like that from an over-the-counter home refreshener that costs a couple bucks a pop?  BAR-GAIN.

Actually, let's flip that coin for a second.  If anyone within range of cable news, print media, or this blog post EVER contemplates trying bath salts EVER in this or future lifetimes, they are crazier than Crouching Maniac was.  Do you really want to mess with something that might have you eating faces?  If parents can't scare their kids away from these substances now, they should hand over the reins and have their responsibility orbit limited to keeping ice cold.  There is no scenario in which the face-eating threat doesn't trump the impulses of even the stupidest teenager. 

• "Have fun at the prom, Timmy.  But remember, if someone offers you bath salts, just say no.  Jenny has a lovely face, but how embarrassed would you feel if you ATE IT?!?"
• "I heard Billy has been experimenting with bath salts.  I don't want you hanging around with him anymore.  I'd like you to have both cheeks."
• "Do you really want to have to look at yourself in the mirror one day and think I wish I was looking at myself in the mirror but I'm not because I did bath salts with Joey one slow Saturday night and he ate my eyeballs?"

But I suspect we all could have taken a more academic approach to the whole "bath salts" thing and gotten scared enough by textual description alone.  I don't think we needed Florida to give us another off-the-charts madman to hammer the lesson home.

Sidenote to Crouching Maniac's girlfriend-widow: your protestations that he must have been hexed by a Voodoo curse are helping no one.

Bottom line:  Let's ban the sale of bath salts in all its possible forms and start getting serious about promoting the sale of Florida.  That panhandle looks like it's just asking to be ripped off from the continental U.S. in the same maneuver usually reserved for breaking the turkey's wishbone at Thanksgiving.

As an added bonus, keep in mind that Donald Trump owns a huge compound in Palm Beach.  We can throw him into the deal.  (Mitt, he'll still be able to mail you checks.)

(Yes, Mitt Romney reads this blog.)