Listen up, because the salt-crusted migration didn't leave this year, and my patience is officially thinner than the tread on a Buckeye's rusted-out Honda Civic with a Biden/Harris bumper sticker barely clinging on. It used to just be a winter issue, but the infestation has gone year-round. They aren't even going back to their corn silos anymore. They’re buying up houses, clogging the boat ramps in July, and bringing that permanent gray-sky energy to our paradise 365 days a year. You try to navigate local traffic on a Tuesday afternoon, and you get stuck behind some pasty transplant going 35 in the left lane because they saw a single cloud and assumed a hurricane was hitting. Look, we all know why you escaped permanently. If I came from a flat, dystopian void of endless corn where the peak of human culinary achievement is dumping watery, cinnamon-scented toilet-water chili onto overcooked spaghetti and burying it in a hazardous amount of yellow cheese, I’d never go back either. 🤮 No wonder Ohio produces so many astronauts. Neil Armstrong didn't go to space to advance science; he braved the cold, dead vacuum of the cosmos just to ensure there was absolutely zero chance he'd ever smell a Cincinnati kitchen again. Your state is so aggressively depressing that leaving Earth entirely was considered a lateral move. But you don’t get to bring that cursed energy down here full-time! We don't care about your psychotic cult behavior. Stop screaming "O-H" at a teenage gas station clerk like a broken animatronic, expecting them to bark "I-O" back to validate your entire existence. And cut the "aggressively polite" act. You hit us with that dead-eyed Midwestern "ope" at the Publix deli counter, acting all folksy, right before you cut someone off in a roundabout because you've never seen a road that wasn't a straight line between two corn silos. The internet keeps posting memes about how Ohio is a glitching, surreal wasteland full of unholy monsters and chaotic anomalies. Honestly? The memes are giving you too much credit. You aren't a high-tier internet creepypasta; you're just a permanent flock of tourists who think dipping a Wendy's fry into a chocolate slurry counts as a culture. Florida has real wildlife, real orange groves, and actual culture. We don't need your orange construction barrels, your road salt, or your bland presence blocking our boat ramps year-round. If you love the construction season so much that you brought it down here permanently, do us a favor and build a highway right back to the trenches you crawled out of. Pack up the Skyline, get off our roads, and go home. We're full. 🌴🐊🍊