The Villages is the world’s largest retirement community, spanning 3 counties in the middle of Florida. They drive golf carts everywhere, from Publix to the doctor to any place that sells alcohol. Happy hour goes on all day, every day. They line dance, twerk, party and get drunk every night on the three main squares and surrounding areas. “Key parties” are common. They are recognized as their own city by the residents, though it’s technically a census-designated place.
The Natives consider them to be an invasive force. Many of the locals have been pushed aside for new development.
Often the Natives act as their servants, preparing their food, washing their golf carts and oversized vehicles, and scrubbing their foot fungus (those are three different occupations, mind you). Like any place run by Baby Boomers, the pay is not good.
Alcohol is a huge part of life in The Villages. Beer and liquor is cheap, and drunken sex is free and frequent.
They have their own roads and newspaper and ethos, all under the whim and power of the Morse family. Their official newspaper, “The Villages Daily Sun,” only reports happy news, but there’s an independent online news site at Villages-News.com that isn’t afraid to show what’s really going on in The Villages.
Lots of Midwesterners and obnoxious, entitled old people come here to soak up Florida’s warmth. These people usually have very little warmth of their own. Many feel that it’s paradise here.
Those who become residents vote against putting state money into education, because their grandkids are up north in good schools and they’re selfish. They pay very little in property taxes. As a result, our schools are awful and create awful little Florida Mans and Florida Womans who end up robbing the old people. It all balances out.
The Villages is 99% white. Out of the 69,457 people who live there, according to Census.gov, 68,623 of them are “White alone.” If you like Mexican food, do not go to the Mexican restaurants in The Villages. If you like ethnic food, do not eat in The Villages. There are only chain restaurants. If you like culture, do not go to The Villages.
Red hatters are everywhere. Trump stickers abound. Senility and racism stew to create outbursts of “stand for the pledge!” and “keep American American!”
Most of these people have swallowed the Sinclair media kool-aid because they harbor lots of fear and hatred (especially towards brown people and young people), and because they’re senile and gullible (making them easy to scam). Most will outwardly and unashamedly tout their hatred for “illegals,” which is code for “all people that aren’t white.” When around their peers, they speak openly and proudly of their racist, xenophobic ideals.
Many of them do like hip-hop though, especially Lil Jon. Old ladies will twerk on the dance floor (really, it happens a lot), and sun-burnt old men will gyrate their hips and grind on women young and old at Margarita Republic. Young men have a very high chance of catching an old lady, but there may be more to catch with that as well…
The Villages is an ideal place for crotchety old people who enjoy an echo chamber of complaints about things like new music, civil rights groups, empowered women, and young people. They will cut you off and give you the middle finger if you drive too slow. They call Emma Gonzalez a “stupid Cuban lesbian bitch that needs to get shot.” They drive drunk and rarely obey traffic laws. They fuck like rabbits. These are not your mama’s grandparents. These are not the sweet old folks that tell cute stories, bake cookies, and play with their grandkids… these are Villagers.