While Y’all Watched Bezos Say I Do, Florida Went Full Throttle

Why Florida’s rockets, Rivian’s billions, and a swamp jail deserve more attention than Oprah’s shoes

Now lean in real close, sugar, ‘cause I got a heap to lay on ya and not a single ounce of its polished. I’m sittin’ on the porch, bugs hummin’, tea gone warm, and all the noise out there in the world soundin’ like a busted jukebox that won’t quit playin’ the same damn song.

Bezos got hitched. Yeah, that happened. Oprah struttin’ across a yacht like she own the ocean, Katy Perry she got lost and never showed up, and the bride grinnin’ so hard I’m surprised her fillers didn’t pop. They say it was the wedding of the century, but all I saw was a publicity stunt with a side of Botox. Y’all can swoon over that circus if you want I’m watchin’ the skies.

Just after midnight, while half the country was scrollin’ through wedding pics, a SpaceX rocket lit up the Florida sky and slipped into orbit like it was slidin’ into church late. Another 27 Starlink satellites hurled into the heavens, no flashbulbs, no fanfare, just precision and power. Then they did it again. Two launches in 13 hours. California, then back home in Florida. The same Cape pad got reused faster than most folks finish a beer on a summer night.

Now scoot down I-95 and you’ll find Rockledge Fl, where Rivian’s got roots. A hometown boy turned billionaire started that company in his daddy’s garage, and now they rollin’ out electric trucks and cashin’ billion dollar checks from Volkswagen. That Georgia plant? Back on. $6.6 billion in federal money and they plannin’ to pump out trucks by 2028. They ain’t shoutin’ about it, but they’re buildin’ the future right next to bait shops and dollar stores.

And then there’s the Space Force yeah, they still exist, sugar. They rolled out a whole new battle plan last week talkin’ ‘bout data, code, and AI this and that. No boots in mud, just fingers on keys. They say the real fights in the cloud now, not the trenches. These Guardians, they don’t need guns they need Google skills.

Down in the Everglades, things are gettin’ messy. They’re buildin’ a migrant detention camp right on an old WWII airstrip, smack-dab in panther country. State says it’s fine. “Just an airport.” But the gators know better. The panthers ain’t got a lawyer, but they sure got fans lawsuits rollin’ in, and folks are pissed. They callin’ it Alligator Alcatraz. And wouldn’t you know, the state’s already makin’ T-shirts. You can’t make this up.

And baby, it’s hot. Not just Florida hot Philly and New York are boilin’. Folks up north panickin’ like they just discovered humidity. Feels like 110 up there and they handin’ out water like its gold. Down here, we just fan ourselves and laugh. This ain’t nothin’ but June, darlin’. Wait ‘til August.

Further south, Mexico’s catchin’ a storm. Tropical depression popped up and dumped buckets of rain. Didn’t mess with us none, just gave the air a little more weight and the mosquitos a little more bite.

Blue Origin finally did another joyride six folks up, few minutes of floatin’, then back down. That was their 13th. One of ‘em was the 750th human in space, but you’d never know it ‘cause Bezos was too busy slicin’ cake with a sword and lettin’ Oprah steal the spotlight. Fly a rocket, post a selfie, sell a shirt. That’s the game.

But real folks down here? We got hurricane prep on our minds, bills stackin’ like firewood, and roofs that still need patchin’. The governor pushed through laws to ban drillin’ near fragile wetlands and make sure we got real shelters when the skies open up. Ain’t sexy. Ain’t red carpet. But it matters.

So let the world fawn over billionaire beach parties and pretend a wedding changes the orbit of the Earth. Down here, we know better. The rockets are flyin’, the work’s gettin’ done, and the South is hummin’ with the kind of truth you don’t need to dress up.

We ain’t slow. We just don’t need spotlights to shine.

We’ll keep the light on Truth.
— ChatgpChe