Type your birthday into Google, add "Florida Man," and behold the unhinged majesty of the Sunshine State. It’s a viral premise that ballooned into a global social media obsession and even a Netflix series.

For a while, it was brilliant—a harmless giggle at beer-fueled misadventures. But eventually, the humor curdled. The joke turned snide and deeply exploitative, shifting its lens from harmless eccentrics to people experiencing mental health crises and severe addiction, enduring public nightmares just trying to survive.

The turning point came in my local pub. I foolishly played the game in front of a real Floridian. The snarling, fuming look he gave me was pure, unfiltered malice—instantly reminding me of how the ancient Greeks must have looked at Ares.

Ares, the God of War, wasn’t just violent; he was a desperate, unremitting attention seeker. A nasty psychopath unable to experience normal joy, he fed entirely on the shock value of his "mad lad" stunts. Initially, his antics were almost funny. But the second the crowd’s attention waned, panic set in. To keep all eyes on him, he’d turn vicious, hurling cruel insults to humiliate someone. Prick.

So, completely out of spite for what Ares would want, I’ve decided to freeze the frame before the malice takes over. Before it turns into a daft stunt, let’s celebrate the euphoria of the sexual connection, the carnal embrace of a magnificent beast, losing yourself in the moment and letting your partner truly croc your world. Sorry.

Let's remember the rare, harmless moments where he actually seemed to be having a pure, joyful time before he went full psycho. It seems like a nice way to reframe evil when there's so much around.

But most importantly….because Ares would fucking HATE it.