Florida Beats #badword# out of Irma.

Coming ashore as a feared and respected Category 4 hurricane, Irma, who had been bragging to her friends Katia and José that she was going to "destroy" the Sunshine State, fully expected to go down in history as a biblical catastrophe. Making landfall in the mid afternoon, Irma was shocked to find all the invalids she had hoped to drown removed from low lying areas, all the windows she had hoped to break covered by plywood bearing abusive challenges, and the weird, bald governor who had been hibernating on his nest of checks from corporate donors actually lucid and making reasonable statements. Worse, she was met with a withering volley of prayer chains, successful saving throws and actual gunfire. By the time she reached Tampa, the strippers had a go at her, laying back possum-like to rake the astonished cyclone with stiletto heels and directing their bitch-like DJs to blast Queensryche into her storm bands. By the time the notably phallic state of Florida had done with Irma, all the mascara had run off her eye wall and her much-vaunted rotation could hardly be described as "tight." While she is likely to reverse the human trend by leaving Florida to die in Ohio, one wishes Irma could stagger back to Cape Verde to warn future storms that Florida's lap dance may be a little too rough for fat, sloppy hurricanes that can't even decide which side of the state to land on.