you don’t know me, but two years ago you signed a white Harley Davidson bandanna for me.  You laughed and said the eagle with the thunder coming out of it’s eyes was "cool."  I agreed.

Anyways, if you don’t remember me no big deal.  If you do, I’d like to talk to you as a friend and say that you made a huge mistake going to Miami, and that I’m personally disgusted in the way you chose to do it. 

The disgust part I’ll save for another time; you smashed the heart of an already broken city under your foot, and that was your decision.  Buy Miami Lebron?  Really?  Do you realize you have uprooted yourself to what some people call "the penis of America"?  Are you going to take up the South Beach Diet and go cruising down A1A with Lenny Kravitz?  You’ve moved yourself to the single douchiest spot in America, and a place where people traditionally go to live out the last years of their lives.  

Why so much venom towards the 305?  As a young boy, I too made the move from my home in the Midwest (in my case Madison), to Miami.  My father took a teaching job at the University, and sold us on the sunshine and beaches, opposed to the cold and harsh. 

It was the biggest mistake he ever made.

My entire life I grew up realizing two things:

1.  I will never speak good Spanish.

2.  I lived in-between two nursing homes, and saw more old people get carted off in the meat wagon than I can could on all my fingers and toes. 

Florida is a fucking depressing place.  Everybody from there either dies there, or they wise up and move up to New York.

You’re a young guy Lebron.  Younger than I am.  I wish you nothing but the best in the Miami-Dade area, but if I, an escapee from the area, can give one piece of advice to you, it would be to get the heck out of there as fast as possible!

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