Boca Raton millionaire Marty O'Boyle doesn't like politicians scandalizing up his county, dag gummit.
So he's doing what any millionaire with loads of time on his hands would do to combat such a thing: He's going to fly a big-ass blimp over Palm Beach County to shame elected officials when they screw up.
O'Boyle has bought himself a 94-foot blimp that will carry 40-foot-tall messages and fly it over the county should a state senator or state attorney decide it would be a good idea to use public funds to get themselves a hooker.
This isn't the first time ole Marty has done this kind of thing. He once flew an airplane banner over the Palm Beach County skies, calling Sheriff Ric Bradshaw a crook and former State Attorney Michael McAuliffe a putz.
But airplane banners aren't good enough anymore. So O'Boyle ponied up $200,000 for a hot-air balloon that was originally used for Amazon rainforest inspections. He's just waiting on approval from the Federal Aviation Administration.
O'Boyle's reason for going from plane to blimp is quite simple: Planes go fast and the letters are super small; blimps go slow and have giant letters.
Also, he has loads of money to do this.
"This blimp has a Velcro system where you can make up any message you want in 40-foot letters," O'Boyle told Gossip Extra. "And it travels about 15 mph."
A plane banner is static, it carries one message and then you have to land again to put on another banner. Not so with a blimp. Not so with blimps!
"I can hover outside Bradshaw's kitchen window for four hours with the word 'Crook' on it before I need to land somewhere," O'Boyle said.
With a blimp you can knock out several messages and expose several elected officials in one day. Tax corruption. Bribery. Coverups. Prostitution. Murder.
Palm Beach is Gotham City, and O'Boyle is like a really slow moving Batman with a stetson.
The blimp, which runs on a lawn mower engine and features a pilot seat the size of a shopping cart, will be piloted by his son, and sometimes O'Boyle himself -- when he's not battling corruption on the ground atop his trusty steed, that is.
"The way I see it," he says, "Mr. State Attorney works for me. And Mr. State Senator works for me. I owe it to my county to do this."
There you have it, Mr. State Attorney. Keep your shit in check. Lest you invite the wrath of a low muffled buzzing sound over your home with 40-foot letters that reads: PUTZ.
You've been warned!