As I sit here staring at the snow pouring down outside my window – the latest instance in a months-long deluge of powder – I find myself doing something that is only possible at this time of year: Longing for Florida and Arizona.
By rule, I generally hate those two places. I doubt that I have to enumerate the reasons for my disgust with the reclaimed swampland that is The Sunshine State. The latest grievance would probably have to be that it is now, apparently, perfectly acceptable to kill someone in that state, so long as you can concoct some cockamamie story about how you felt immediately threatened by them, e.g., they were listening to music you didn’t like, looked ...
