Photo by Stian Petter Roenning

There are a million reasons to love Miami: the weather, the melange of culture, the Miami Heat. Pero ask anyone under the age of 80 what the most redeeming quality of our city is, and chances are that they'll mention at least one of the three P's: playa, puta o perico.

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- Full archive of Pepe Billete's columns

But three P's aren't the only thing that sets Miami apart from the rest of the country. One of the most unique and alluring characteristics of the 305 is situated in a small three-block section of downtown Miami known as the 24-hour district.

If you're a local and you've never even heard of the 24-hour district, it's probably because you're either on medicare or you're tremendo duck. The 24-hour district is known as the place you go when you want to party "after hours." It allows business with a liquor license to stay open well past the 5 a.m. curfew that's enforced throughout the rest of the city. La jodedera y la puteria del after hours begins on Friday night and runs continuously until Monday evening.
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Photo by Stian Petter Roenning

See the full archive of Pepe Billete's columns here.

Dear Micky Arison:

As owner of the Miami Heat, you've nurtured the evolution of a legacy that was humbly born in the late '80s, developed in the '90s, and unmistakably solidified in the new millennium. Your dedication to Miami sports revitalized a city desperate to escape the tentacles of irrelevance that had been choking away our pride and spirit. To die-hard South Florida sports fanatics like me, you, sir, are Beowulf.

But for all the glory you have brought our great city, one man has overshadowed your triumph with a shroud of anguish and torment. Time and again, he has plummeted us into an abyss of despair. This man is evil incarnate. El jodido diablo himself! He is a plague that has terrorized us with malice and ineptitude for too long, and the time has come for you, our champion, to rescue us from his despicable clutches.

The man I speak of is none other than el muy malparido de Stephen me cago en su madre Ross.

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See the full archive of Pepe Billete's columns here.

A couple of weeks ago I wrote an open letter to Chad "OchoCinco" Johnson, welcoming him back to Miami and updating him on some things that have changed in the 305 since his departure to Langston, Oklahoma in 1997.  I was excited to write the piece because Chad is one of my favorite sports figures in recent history. I mean it -- he's a Miami native that was a beast at the height of his career and has tremenda personalidad. The fact that the Dolphins had added him to the roster revitalized in me an interest in the team that had been dwindling into oblivion. Then el muy singao le metio un cabezaso a la jeva, y me cago el articulo pa la pinga.

In lieu of this debacle, I decided to leave Chad alone. He has enough people telling him what to do. Instead, because FIU and UM officially begin classes next week, I'm offering my advice to the myriad of freshman who will be starting college for the first time this semester.

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See the full archive of Pepe Billete's columns here.

Last week I took a little break from the column to celebrate my birthday. The party was amazing and even managed to get the attention of NBC!

While it did take me a couple of days to recover, I had a plan to come back this week with an open letter to Chad "Ochocinco" Johnson, pero after all of this comemierderia with Chick-Fil-A going on in the news, I felt compelled to address it, given its relevancy to our local community. Sorry Chad, you're just going to have to wait till next week, pipo.

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See the full archive of Pepe Billete's columns here.

Last weekend me and the guys at DeadFix.com were cojiendo tremenda perra nota at PeachFuzz, and we started talking about all the mistakes people make when they go out partying in Miami. The conversation was so interesting, that I decided to make it the topic of this week's column.

So aqui lo tienen: The Do's and Don'ts of Miami Nightlife.

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See Pepe Billete: "I'm Not a Latino, I'm Not a Hispanic, I'm a Cuban American!"

Last week I managed to upset a pretty big segment of Miami's non-Cuban Spanish speaking population when I asserted that referring to all Spanish-speaking people as "Hispanic" or "Latino" is xenophobic and just plain wrong. You don't have to look much further than the comments section of that article to see que las mandadas pa la pinga llovieron. It seems like I touched on a pretty sensitive nerve.

The article received thousands of views within hours, and even managed to get the attention of a couple national media outlets. I still stand by that article 100 percent, and this week I want conclude my end of the discussion with a few points I intentionally left out for the sake of brevity.

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I don't know about you, pero every time I hear someone refer to me as "Hispanic" or "Latino," me dan ganas de meterle una pata por culo a alguin. My response is always the same (unless its la mona): I'm a Cuban American, you comemierda!

Oye, the only thing that makes me more proud than being a Miamian is the fact that I am Cuban American. I don't appreciate the fact that the status quo has made it appropriate to use an umbrella term to describe my cultural background. The words "Latino" and "Hispanic" are xenophobic cojones, and I'm sick and tired of people calling me that shit! Today's blog is dedicated to showing you why you shouldn't put up with it either!

"Latino" and "Hispanic"? El coño tu madre!

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See Pepe Billete's Open Letter to Miami Heat Haters.

Now that the Miami Heat have stuffed their haters' mouths with something to keep them gagging until the next season, I want to address another aspect of hate that extends beyond the Heat. Last week, I talked a little about how the general consensus among sports writers is that Miami has the worst fans in all of sports. In fact, that view is so pervasive, that many equivocados here in our beloved 305 seem to think it's actually true.

So this week, I want to dispel the two most popular complaints about Miami fans with a few facts that will shut all these comemierdas up for good.

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