Once again those not blessed to live in our sweltering paradise do their best to replicate our fabulous practices. Police near Orlando have busted a large professionally-operated cockfighting ring after "hearing men cheering in the woods," which is pretty wild because they must have been cheering really loud. They discovered a freshly dug Holocaust-style rooster grave, complete with black and white documentary filmmakers, and "drawers full of sharp fighting spurs for birds."
This is nothing new to me, of course. My uncle Pedro "The Cocker" Pardon has been doing this sort of stuff for years. I remember when I was growing up, trying to get laid in his filthy house with the wobbly ceiling fans, the deafening screams of the butchered roosters totally freaking out my little victims right before climax. He would beat me with a bundle of their dessicated severed legs tied together with red yarn. But whatever that's all in the past, he's running a county transportation authority now, and now the only people interested in cockfighting are the eternally-ten-years-behind white folk in Polk County.