The French are not rude. They just happen to hate you. But that is no reason to bypass this beautiful country, whose master chefs have a well-deserved worldwide reputation for trying to trick people into eating snails. Nobody is sure how this got started. Probably a couple of French master chefs were standing around one day, and they found a snail, and one of them said: 'I bet that if we called this something like `escargot,' tourists would eat it.' Then they had hearty laugh, because 'escargot' is the French word for 'fat crawling bag of phlegm.'

I think if you use Twitter and social media as your main source of information you are an idiot, but I think most people who use it know better, so I kind of enjoy it.

You're not allowed to park a truck in your driveway. You're not allowed to work on your house on Sunday. The people who enforce these laws are nuts. After I wrote a column on this, I got I don't know how many letters from Coral Gables homeowners, story after story after story, wonderfully horrible stories. And the venom they felt for their own government!

Sign outside a country shop: We buy junk and sell antiques.

We're wild horses. We're going to eat your food, knock down your tent and poop on your shoes. We're protected by federal law, just like Richard Nixon.

Leonard Aster thanked Fighting Prawn and the Mollusk tribe for their hospitality. “You mean,” said Fighting Prawn, “for not killing you?” “Yes,” said Leonard. “It was very gracious of you.” “Do you,” said Leonard, “I mean, does you tribe, shake hands?” “No,” said Fighting Prawn. “We kiss on the lips.” “Oh,” said Leonard, looking very alarmed.

There are no bad haircuts in cyberspace.