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Drive into Polk County from Pasco on U.S. 98, and you know you've arrived.
Crossing into the County of Perpetual Roadwork, there's a big, new sign. The impressive "gateway" markers went up along major roads in 2003.
"Welcome to Polk County," the stone monuments proclaim. "Land of 554 Lakes."
A motorist with sign envy from, say, Pasco County, might have suggested, "Expect Delays."
They've got a sign. We don't.
Polk County spokeswoman Carolyn Simpson said the signs promote the natural bounty of her county. Serene lakes are a family alternative to bustling Walt Disney World, she said.
"We're the water ski capital of the world," Simpson said.
A moment later she added, "We're the black bass capital of the world."
But leave behind the world famous water skiing bass of Polk County for a jaunt into Pasco, and you're greeted with a speed limit sign. Sigh.
There is no monument to proclaim the greatness that is Pasco County. There is nothing to hail the remaining stands of rural countryside of east Pasco, or the celebrated "Miracle Miles" along U.S. 19 on the west, veritable cornucopias of shopping wonderment - provided you're shopping for fast food, cars or gasoline.
We need a sign. We need a slogan.
In the heart of Pasco County, the home of "ecotourism," developers are eager to share a slice of the "eco" for new shopping malls and subdivisions. Maybe there's a claim to fame there.
"Home to Tampa's Workforce," has a nice ring. Or, "Pasco County, Suburban Living from the $110's."
I figure many of the newest subdivisions must foster a real sense of community, since lot size dictates neighbors will be virtually sharing an exterior wall.
Maybe: "Pasco County: Home of 26 remaining citrus groves . . . 25 . . . 24 . . . 23."
Pasco is also a popular destination for our nudist friends.
"Pasco County: Nothing to Hide" might work as a slogan. Or we combine the nature and au naturel for "Pasco County: Get Nekkid and Trek Through a Swamp!"
We'd make a fortune in bug spray and sunscreen.
Along U.S. 301 to the east, winter visitors are magnetically drawn to an aluminium paradise in Zephyrhills and street fairs galore in Dade City, crowned by the annual Kumquat Festival.
Maybe kumquats are something we could rally around, something that would capture the spirit of Pasco County residents. After all, kumquats are bitter and cheap and rarely found in expensive restaurants.
Ha ha, I kid because I love. Please, put down the torches and pitchforks. And be honest. Kumquats really don't taste good unless you smother them in enough sugar to make a dead rat appealing.
In southern China, they make wine out of dead rats, Australia's Sydney Morning Herald newspaper reported last week.
Pasco County has a winery in Land O'Lakes. Florida Estates Winery makes lime wine, orange wine, grape wine and strawberry port. But no rat wine.
So "Try Our Rat Wine" is out.
We've had our share of high-profile crimes. Although places known as Court TV broadcast affiliates don't necessarily attract tourists.
But our weather is a selling point for visitors from colder climes. Perhaps, "Pasco County: Hot and Wet" would work. Or does Tampa already have a lock on that slogan?
For its part in promoting Pasco, our County Commission is eager to use $5.7-million in tax money to build a tennis stadium, dreaming of luring the dozens of avid tennis fans poised within a 1,500-mile radius.
So we could try, "Please Visit our Tennis Stadium . . . Please. Pretty Please."
I think there's a better solution.
With county and school officials eager to get into our pockets one more time with a 16-percent sales tax increase (I mean a "penny" increase . . . wink, wink) maybe we should scrap the idea of a gateway sign all together.
We'll just put up a toll booth.