What if the presence of so many obnoxious New Yorkers [Northeasterners really] in our community is not just the result of an aging population seeking warmer climates? For wisdom, we turn to the Word, Exodus 10:13-15

And the locust went up over all the land of Egypt, and rested in all the coasts of Egypt: very grievous were they; before them there were no such locusts as they, neither after them shall be such.

For they covered the face of the whole earth, so that the land was darkened; and they did eat every herb of the land, and all the fruit of the trees which the hail had left: and there remained not any green thing in the trees, or in the herbs of the field, through all the land of Egypt.

Thursday morning I saw pictures in the local papers of the next non-interim manager of the Florida Marlins. The clothing he was wearing openly, complete with a cap, was the costume of a professional New York baseball team. The stinking Mets. I felt physically ill.

Our future Marlins manager decked out in the garb of the gonads-less Mets! The choking-dog of a franchise that the Fredi Gonzalez led Marlins had the pleasure of knocking out of playoff contention in two consecutive seasons. In domestic abuse terms, those seasons, the glorious years of 2007 and 2008, ended with the Marlins grasping the Mets by the loose skin at the back of their necks and dragging them in a casually destructive manner through their home and tossing them dismissively out their own front door as though they were playing horseshoes in a zero-gravity environment [thankfully, they landed on jagged rocks infected with MRSA].

There are few pleasures in sports which can match watching a truly hated opponent suffer gut-wrenching loses. The agony on the face of Met fans at the final game in Shea stadium is something that I still draw strength from in difficult times. The thought that Bret Farve’s last pass for three consecutive seasons have been throws which he either reacted stupidly or cowardly and cost his teams playoff games or a chance to make the playoffs, still brings a tear now and then.

But still, … a future Marlins manager pictured while covered in feces? Physical illness soon led to depression. What if the presence of so many Northeasterners in Miami represents some type of Biblical punishment? What if the sins of Henry Flagler and Julia Tuttle are now having sporting repercussions? Parcells [Jersey], Riley [Schenectady], Loria & Samson [Joffrey Ballet]; to paraphrase Philip Bosco in The Pope of Greenwich Village [we do irony too here at 2TG], ‘we’re surrounded!’ Depression deepens.

What if the wretched Northeasterners represent only half of the swarm of locusts? Wait a minute, what if … those of us … from parts … south of Miami, represent the other half of the swarm cursing Miami? I scream out with a Roddy McDowall Twilight Zone like anguish, ‘I am not a locust!,’ even as I double-check limbs.