I’d argue with that, and prefer either a simple change of venue — “Everything’s big in Florida” — or a reworked version of the axiom: “Everything survives in Florida.”
It’s true. Florida has nothing resembling a winter, so in a nutshell, nothing dies unless it’s eaten, shot, run over, struck by lightning, or hit in the head with a cinderblock during a hurricane. Pet Burmese pythons have been known to escape or be intentionally let go by doltlike hominids, with the result often being a suspicious number of missing cats and small dogs in the affected neighborhood.
An even better example is the iguana, which formerly existed only in cages and aquaria, but now thrive mightily in the wild (meaning in people’s back yards and the Everglades flood-control canals running through urban areas) thanks to douchelike anthropoids letting them go free. I used to see scads of them while doing my utnost to mimic running on trails in places like Boca Raton and Fort Lauderdale, which meant running alongside one of these canals. They’re skittish and funny as hell. When one of them lurking near water’s edge would see me coming it would go from zero to about ten miles an hour in an instant and then do an exaggerated belly-flop into the canal. In the “winter,” when it became cold by poikilotherm standards (mid-40’s), they appeared much more tame because they were to damn cold to move when I’d come jogging into view, and so would jus sit there and brood (I guess).
Anyway, some McDonald’s higher-up sent me these pictures. The first two show the discoveries of Florida Power and Light workers near Orlando and the third is self-explanatory.
Vital stats: The first alligator was 18 feet, two inches long; the culvert contained 87 rattlesnakes.
Credit for these pictures goes to one Karen L. Prince of somewhere in the Scumslime State. She has others on her site, along with some poems and things, but I couldn’t find a way to use them as they don’t seem to fit the general tenor of this blog.