They’ve got pigs, we’ve got pythons, but otherwise, Iowa’s just another Florida

So, which is it, governor? Is Iowa the Florida of the Upper Midwest? Or have right-wing zanies transformed Florida into the Iowa of the subtropics?

"People have said that Iowa is the Florida of the North, but I’ll tell you, it very well may be that Florida is the Iowa of the southeast," our geographically challenged governor said Tuesday.

Gov. Ron DeSantis offered his startling observation while campaigning in West Des Moines, known as the West Palm Beach of Iowa, except instead of traditional South Florida vittles like bluefin tuna tiradito and paella de marisco, Iowans prefer deep-fried Twinkies and chicken-bacon waffles on a stick.

Food on a plate here. Food on the stick there. Otherwise, similarities between the two states are downright striking. Especially in the months before the Iowa caucuses, when presidential candidates with only the scantest of chances to win the nomination learn to love corn ethanol.

DeSantis made a similar analogy in April when he addressed the Republican state party convention in Utah: "Florida is the Utah of the southeast." Having lately governed Florida from afar, maybe DeSantis mistook the Great Salt Lake for Lake Okeechobee, forgetting that the latter can be distinguished by a 300-square-mile infestation of toxic green algae, like a giant blanket of floating guacamole. If our governor ever makes his way back to Florida, residents along the lake-fed Caloosahatchee and St. Lucie rivers would be glad to explain, or even sing the difference, with apologies to "The Music Man": "Ya’ got algae. Oh, we got algae, right here in River City."

("The Music Man" was the most familiar cultural reference I could find for Iowa, other than Tom T. Hall's 1971 all-too-accurate country lament, "It Sure Can Get Cold in Des Moines." I can imagine DeSantis, Trump and the other presidential wannabes joining in: "The Iowa weather was 13 below. I had come to Des Moines for a radio show." On the other hand, DeSantis and Trump could do a heartfelt duet of Patty Griffin's equally upbeat "Don't Let Me Die in Florida.")

DeSantis, as he hunted votes in other key primary states these last few weeks, also noted similarities between Florida and both Ohio and New Hampshire that no one else had noticed. Perhaps global warming has erased the differences.

But the DeSantis campaign rhetoric has described Florida and Iowa as practically twins, separated at birth. Aside from the obvious similarities between the Davenport Riverfront and South Beach, Florida (at least for the moment) has Disney World, much as Iowa is home to the world's largest truck stop (Iowa 80, dubbed "the truckers’ Disneyland").

Both states love hyperbole. The biggest hog there. The biggest python here. Both cherish tradition. Since 1911, the Iowa State Fair has featured a hefty cow sculpted from 600 pounds of butter. Since 1933, the city fathers of Jacksonville have supplemented the education of 84,000 Florida and Georgia college students (and other fans) with a sporting event known as "the world's largest cocktail party."

Comparisons suffer a bit demographically, considering that Iowa has fewer human residents than the combined populations of Broward and Palm Beach counties. However, the state has roughly as many pigs as Florida has people. No doubt, DeSantis went to Iowa wishing porkers, who appreciate a good mud-slinging campaign, could vote.

Herbert Hoover, John Wayne and Johnny Carson all hailed from Iowa. Florida tends to import its celebrities from New York.

Iowa was once a not-very-Florida-like progressive place: the first state to allow women to practice law, the first midwestern state to legalize gay marriage. The University of Iowa, back in 1847, when Florida was still a slave state, decided to admit women.

Lately, Iowa has become just as obsessed with overhyped cultural issues as Florida. Over the last two years, Iowa has passed laws restricting restrooms and medical treatment for transgender students, banning school library books that right-wingers find offensive, prohibiting the teaching of certain subjects in classrooms and providing taxpayer-funded tuition vouchers for private schools.

The notion that Iowa has become Florida's doppelganger might be a stretch, but their respective, anti-woke state legislatures seem to be in lock-step.

A bill that would defy federal law and ban same sex marriage in Iowa and a bill that would repeal Florida's outdated 2008 ban on gay marriage both failed in their respective 2023 legislative sessions. Which leaves both states with the same shameless status.

Both governors just announced that they are dispatching state cops and national guard troops to the Texas border to be props in anti-immigrant political theater.

More proof that except for a glaring lack of French bulldogs in baby carriages, Iowa is the new Florida.

Fred Grimm, a longtime resident of Fort Lauderdale, has worked as a journalist in South Florida since 1976. Reach him by email at [email protected] or on Twitter: @grimm_fred.

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