Miami News Blog

Ten years ago I attended one of Woody Allen's New Orleans Jazz Band gigs — the stuff of legend, held every Monday night at Michael's Pub on East 55th Street in Manhattan. These shows were supposedly so sacred to Woody that he never missed one; back when the Academy Awards were held on Monday, he played clarinet in New York City instead of attending — even in 1978, when Annie Hall won best picture.

The band arrived, punctually, and did their thing. But no Woody. Just a cover charge, drink minimum, and expensive meal; my companion and I dropped a couple hundred bucks — not cheap for a couple of grad students.

Last night at the Carnival Center for the Performing Arts my chance came around again. This time, he showed. The first thing I noted as the band launched into its Dixieland jazz repertoire was: sounds like a Woody Allen movie. (Allen himself played on the Sleeper soundtrack.) I'm no aficionado, but to my ear Woody did his best solo work in the up-tempo numbers; he seemed to struggle with his clarinet's sustain when things got slow. But he belted out some memorable passages, and the rest of the band — led by banjo-wielding Eddy Davis — was even better.

The audience — mostly what you'd call "older folks" — delighted in the spectacle, though they seemed to tire of the custom of applauding solos and did so unevenly (to the unfair, but arbitrary, disadvantage of trumpeter Simon Wettenhall, who was perhaps the best musician).

Woody played it straight, from his familiar slouching-strut entrance to his audience banter, which was succinct and gracious. But he closed, after a long encore, with a touch of the classic Woody. After the band played "We'll Meet Again," he said, "Well, in all likelihood we won't meet again. Life is cruel that way." The crowd laughed and applauded some more. -Frank Houston

Happy New Year: Homicides are on the rise in Miami-Dade County!

According to Metro Dade and city police statistics through Dec. 28, 165 people were killed in 2006. Compare that with 2005 - when 120 people were killed - and you have a 37 percent increase in homicides. (These numbers only include those two police jurisdictions; other county municipalities aren't included).

This mirrors a national trend - homicides are at their highest levels in a decade in many U.S. cities. New York's homicides, for example, are up 10 percent. Chicago's are up 3.3 percent. Oakland, California has increased by a whopping 57 percent.

Miami Police spokesman Delrish Moss has an explanation for this year's increase: 2005 was a particularly safe year, the lowest on record for homicides.

"When we finished with 56 last year, our jaws dropped," he said. "Now, in 2006, we're back to average. Seventy-seven homicides is about average."

Moss said that turf wars between gangs in the northern part of the city, family fights and the proliferation of assault rifles are the main cause of the bloodshed in 2006.

Before you think that Miami is a lawless pit of scum a la Rep. Tom Tancredo (who said that Miami is the most violent city in the nation), consider this: in 1981, Miami had 681 murders, or about two per day. -Tamara Lush

Thetans, rejoice: A Scientology conference is coming to a beach near you.

For two days in March — and for $200 — you can learn about the ins and outs of Scientology, the religion/self-help group/Tom Cruise thingy.

Flyers were sent to potential Thetans (that's the rough equivalent to the "soul" in Scientology-speak) this week, maybe in hopes that they would clean up their acts after a holiday season filled with drunken, drug-addled, soulless debauchery.

For the uninitiated, Scientology is a religion, kind of. Its headquarters are in the sleepy beach town of Clearwater. Famous Scientologists include John Travolta, Kirstie Alley, Beck, Isaac Hayes and, of course, Cruise. Thousands around the world have said Scientology has helped them lead more organized, productive, successful lives; others say it is a money-grubbing cult.

Scientologists are anti-psychology (see Tom Cruise's exchange with "Today" show host Matt Lauer) and anti- anti-depressants (see Tom Cruise's remarks about Brooke Shields).

According to the organization's website, Scientology is "the study and handling of the spirit in relationship to itself, others and all of life." The glossy color brochure in mailboxes this week touts the "Freewinds Weekend Anatomy of the Spirit of Man Congress" held at, well, it didn't say exactly where.

But it did say that Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard would "explain" many aspects of the organization and conduct "group processing" and "Tone Scale Seminars." Never mind that Hubbard, the author of the Scientology-based tome "Dianetics" and other science fiction books, has been dead since 1986.

Scientology has a church in Coral Gables. Could this conference mean that the group wants to expand its influence here in Miami? Hubbard help us.

Quick: What's the third largest import to the Port of Miami? Silicone? Yay-yo?

Booze, of course. Last year, 155,664 tons of the stuff — about the weight of the world's largest cruise ship, which coincidentally docks in Miami — washed up at the port. By comparison, only 12,191 tons of fire water was exported.

So, what does that mean? Who cares. If the port's new director, Bill Johnson, gets his way, not only will there be more booze (OK, he didn't exactly say that), there will be more of everything. As it stands, the port generates an estimated $16 billion in revenue for South Florida and creates 125,000 jobs for the region. Johnson's goal is to double the number of containers (the boxes tractor-trailers haul) that the port handles — currently about 1 million a year — by 2012.

Already, about 25,000 vehicles cross the Port Boulevard Bridge every day. That number will almost triple by 2020, according to studies cited by the port. Where are all those new containers going to go? On trucks and out to I-95, of course, by way of the wide-open, traffic-free, totally uncongested streets of downtown Miami.

Just kidding. The under-study port tunnel project aims to solve the problem. With an estimated $1.5 billion-plus price tag and a decade-long construction schedule (assuming everything goes as planned), the tunnel would be one of the largest engineering projects ever attempted in South Florida. But, hey, this is Miami; it's sure to get built in a jiffy. -Rob Jordan

Wikipedia.org has once again fallen victim to human error. Rick Ross, Miami's prodigal hip-hop son, was briefly defamed this afternoon on the site. The first line describes him as such:

Rick Ross, born 'dick sucker' 1977, is an white American rapper from coral gabels (sic), in northern Miami-Dade County, Florida. He took his rap name from Los Angeles drug kingpin "Freeway" Ricky Ross, who ran one of the largest marshmellow distribution networks in the country during the '1980s and early '90s.

Shame on you, wikipedia. -Calvin Godfrey

Babalu, "an island on the net without a bearded dictator," issues a send-off to the recently departed Gerald Ford. After decrying Ford's pardon of Nixon and a lackluster 1976 presidential campaign that "led directly to Jimmy Carter's victory and the subsequent disastrous four years of his presidency," Babalu offers this apt farewell:

Rest well, Mr. President. I wish you hadn't taken so many secrets to the grave.

Local government rags can be pretty damn amusing.

Take the latest issue of the Miami Beach city government magazine. A recreation department guide in the glossy drops a dubious bombshell: sumo wrestlers are actually from China, not Japan.

Under the heading "Miami Beach Goes 'Around the World,'" a chirpy paragraph describes a recent "interactive learning experience" that took local school kids on imaginary visits to various exotic lands. Attending photos (above) paint a picture. There were hula skirts at the Hawaii display, Eskimo-style jackets in the Antarctica area and at the China counter there was.... uh.... some guy wearing one of those funny sumo wrestler fat suits.

"All the children had a wonderful time and went home with a world of knowledge," the article concludes. - Rob Jordan

Christmas day started out well. I watched D-Wade drop 40 points on the Lakers and my buddy Norman invited me to the Dolphins-Jets game. Sorry futbol fans, but growing up in Miami, you kind of get sucked into the Fins euphoria. After all, we boast the only team to go undefeated during one season, not to mention the greatest quarterback never to win a Super Bowl. As a true Dolfan, I can say with authority that no division rival sucks more than those lousy, stinkin' New York Jets and their ugly fans.

So when Norm offered me the opportunity to join him in section 454, where nosebleeds come courtesy of the rowdiest, beer guzzling Dolfans in Miami, I could not resist.
Unfortunately, the weather wrecked our plan. We made it to the stadium just when it appeared the skies might clear up. We were looking forward to seeing Jason Taylor wrap up defensive player of the years honors by eating up Jets quarterback Chad Pennington. But by the time we reached the fourth level of the stadium formerly known as Joe Robbie, the rain was a steady deluge. We didn't even bother going to our seats. We watched the first half on a closed circuit television near a beer stand while chugging sweet, tasty draft.

Then Norm suggests we catch the second half in the warm confines of — where else? — Tootsie's Cabaret, the Costco of Miami strip clubs. It was a $6 cover charge. But we decided to pay the extra $20 to sit in the behemoth bar's second floor VIP where we watch the Dolphins fail miserably on two giant plasma screens. On fourth and inches, with under three minutes left in the fourth quarter, down three points, the offense finally clicking, just yards away from a touchdown, and a chance to deflate the Jets' playoff chances, Nick Saban went for the field goal instead of the win. A touchdown would have put us up by four points. On the ensuing possession, Jets marched down for the winning field goal with eleven seconds left.

I drowned myself in Coronas and a couple of lap dances with a lovely Nubian performer named "Paradise." Fortunately, I successfully navigated away from the champagne room and sure financial disaster. I hate the Jets. -Francisco Alvarado

A viewing of The Pursuit of Happyness prompted James Burnett to reflect on his race with candor and grace:

I have an occasional paranoia that I will come across someone who doesn't want to take me seriously because I'm young and black. Some of you may think it's a silly thing to worry about. But what can I tell you? I'm human. And past experience tells me there are folks who would not think to consider my character, work ethic, etc., before writing me off for my appearance.

Still no word on that kooky spelling (Happyness), though. -Frank Houston

Bad dog.

In a report issued today, the Humane Society of the United States says a fur collar on a jacket sold by Miami resident Sean "Diddy" Combs's "Sean John" clothing line is that of a dog.

The HSUS tested the fur on a Sean John Hooded Snorkel Jacket, available at Macy's. The outerwear was "labeled as containing 'raccoon' fur, which has now been found to come from a canine species known as raccoon dog."

Apparently it's not uncommon for raccoon dog fur from China to be mislabeled as coming from a raccoon or coyote. Two days ago similar charges were leveled at apparel sold by J.C. Penney and Burlington Coat Factory. Their alleged misdeeds — and those of Diddy's company's -- would be a violation of federal law, which forbids the mislabeling of fur products. -Frank Houston

Anybody who has seen the new James Bond flick knows that the scenes in "Miami" look somewhat unfamiliar. They've replaced the MIA La Carreta with some sort of luxury clothing boutique. The scary Bodies exhibition where Bond hunts Le Chiffre's henchmen is in niether the former Virgin Megastore on South Dixie Highway nor the Miami Science Museum.

Apparently the exterior of the science museum, according to the IMDb, is none other than the fa�ade of the Czech Republic's Ministry of Transport. And the interior of the "Miami International Airport" is sometimes that of Nassau International Airport and sometimes Ruzyn� International Airport in Prague. The rain-slicked tarmac where Bond and henchman battle over the explosive-rigged fuel truck is the Dunsfold Park Aerodrome of Surrey, England.

Apparently the estimated $150 million budget just didn't leave room for some stock footage. -Emily Witt

"I didn't want to change it," Isaac Starkman told me a few years back when asked about his strategy for renovating Wolfie Cohen's Rascal House. "I wanted to perpetuate it." And for good reason, as during one thirteen-year period alone the landmark delicatessen in Sunny Isles Beach dished and knished more than 41 million meals (seven million involving corned beef). Plus there was the rich history to consider -- Clark Gable, Meyer Lansky, First Place in New Times' "Flapjack Flip-Off Four"....

Now comes news that Ike and his son Jayson have sold out, and Rascal House will be closing to make room for a mixed-use project. It is the last nail in the coffin of Sunny Isles Beach as we have known it.

The town's mayor, Norman Edelcup, boasts that he and the City Commissioners are "creating a new, luxurious Sunny Isles Beach" -- referring, no doubt, to the erection of grotesque, Babel-esque towers such as LeMeridien, Acqualina, and Trump International Sonesta Beach Resort. That the Greater Miami Convention and Visitors Bureau is setting up shop in the shadows of this ostentatious canyon just cements the suspicion that they are making a Greater Miami for the wealthy at the expense of those of us who live here. Using our tax dollars to do so, of course.

So shame on you, Ike and Jayson Starkman. And screw you, Whoreman Norman, Sunny Isles Beach Commissioners, and Greater Miami Convention and Visitors Bureau. Goodbye pastrami sandwiches, stuffed cabbages, matzoh ball soups, blintzes, babkas, bountiful bowls of breads and pickles on the tables...

And farewell to all remnants of history, charm, and soul in gentrified, uglified Money Isles -- er, Sunny Isles Beach. -Lee Klein

The 26th Parallel takes a close look at the Ileana Ros-Lehtinen mess and draws two conclusions: 1) Why not whack Fidel? 2) Filmmaker Dollan Cannell is full of baloney.

Ros-Lehtinen may actually desire that castro be eliminated by any means possible, including assassination. If so, then....so? I would agree with her, and so would many others who have suffered or seen relatives suffer at the hand of that bastard. But that's not the point.

What's wrong here is that a documentary apparently approaching a story from its own angle and perspective, and trying to discredit and paint a U.S. Congresswoman as dishonest and dishonorable, is resorting to dishonest tactics to accomplish this.

Yesterday, County Commissioner Natacha Seijas crushed a recall against her. A pathetic 11 percent of the 76,000 registered voters in her district turned out to cast ballots. Seijas won by a 2-to-1 margin. She relied on a $430,730 campaign war chest, a legion of union workers manning the polls, and thousands of absentee ballots to retain her seat.

In the final days leading up to the vote, Seijas spent most of the money to pay for ads on Spanish language radio. She also shelled out thousands of dollars renting fleets of buses to transport voters to the precincts. She even laid out $155 to buy breakfast for her viejito voting bloc at Yiyi's Cafeteria on Palm Ave. Nothing buys a vote like a good cortadito and scrambled eggs.

At the Billiard Club in Miami Lakes, reality set in quickly for the Committee for Positive Change, the political action committee that initiated the recall petition. "Obviously everyone was disappointed," says recall leader Pat Wade. "We worked damn hard. But we also recognized that we were outspent, outmanned and outgunned."

Not even a last minute pitch by popular Miami-Dade Mayor Carlos Alvarez urging people to oust Seijas was enough to help the rebels. Through a spokeswoman, Alvarez declined comment.

The recall committee can take solace in knowing they fought a grassroots campaign that only garnered $46,000 to fight Seijas's machine. "None of us were paid to stand out there and get votes," Wade says.. "However, it's a disturbing feeling to know you were simply beat because you did not have enough money."

The county commission recently approved measures that make it almost impossible for citizens to mount successful petition drives. So don't expect to see another commissioner recalled for a long, long time.

The war is also far from finished. There is still this business of a criminal investigation initiated by Seijas that the recall PAC forged signatures and lied to voters to get the 3,443 John Hancocks that brought about the special election. "I expect her to push it," Wade says. "She has in the past, so why would she stop now?"

Francisco Alvarado

About fifteen members of the Miami Area Society of Homebrewers (MASH) and their kin gathered this weekend to celebrate the birth of Bacchus — er, Jesus -- on a screened-in patio on Mark and Diane Kelley's lush 5 acre compound in Homestead. The sun eased down behind the green of their patchy slice of jungle when I arrived, dodging bumbling zebra butterflies. Inside, the county's beer cabal bellowed merry laughter as they filled their soft bellies with draughts. A table off in the corner contained twelve different bottles of the world's oldest booze: mead. The process of fermented honey was stumbled upon by a pack of curious prehistoric shamans, who drank standing water out of abandoned beehives. In the Classical Greek, "drunk" actually means "intoxicated on honey." And, as early as 2 pm, several of MASH's members were.

All is quiet in Natacha Seijas country. Today district 13 voters are turning out to the polls to say yea or nay to recall the four-term county commissioner. As of this afternoon, there are no reports of Seijas's chief of staff Terry Murphy haranguing anti-Seijas campaigners at the Miami Lakes library. And even though the mean queen was spotted at the Goodlet Park precinct, Seijas did not verbally abuse any of her opponents.

At the Miami Lakes Community Center, former Miami-Dade transit director Danny Alvarez was among the voters who punched yes, voting for the recall. Alvarez says Seijas has neglected Miami Lakes, where he lives, for too long. He was especially upset over the commissioner's opposition to the widening of NW 87th Avenue. "She's made my life terrible," he said.

You can view the special election results online after 7 p.m. on the election department's website. -Francisco Alvarado

Not long ago, El Nuevo Herald, the nation's self-proclaimed "best Spanish language newspaper," took a whack from the national press when it was reported that El Nuevo employees were moonlighting for government-sponsored Radio Marti.

Embarrassment followed. Miami Herald publisher Jesus Diaz fired the moonlighters, then resigned in protest after they were reinstated.

So you'd think the paper would be particularly smart in its coverage of Radio and TV Marti.

Not so.

The English language Herald's front page this morning was dominated by two shocking stories about the Martis. One, by business writer Christina Hoag, reported that programming from the station — created as international propaganda — would be shown locally under a loophole in federal law. A second, by the brilliant Oscar Corral, probed cronyism at the Martis — hiring of two senior execs with no media experience for six-figure jobs; one of them director Pedro Roig's wife's nephew.

Corral also reported the Martis' hiring of convicted felon and pollster Jorge de Cardenas. And he noted that the station's overseers haven't met for six years despite repeated scandals there.

You'd never have known it by reading El Nuevo Herald. The paper published a front page, above-the-fold story headlined "TV Marti usa una nueva via para llegar a Cuba." Staff writer Rui Ferreira included some of the same information used in Hoag's story — toward the bottom it noted the local transmission — but ignored the implications — that propaganda meant for a foreign market would be aired locally.

Worse, the newspaper reported none of Corral's findings — even though the two newspapers regularly share each others' stories. Nor did it note that some of its employees and freelancers are paid by the Martis.

"This is outrageous, the worst," says Cuban activist Bernardo Benes. "Instead of being a little more responsive to the community, they continue to play the same game of pandering to the right."

Neither editor Humberto Castell� nor his deputy, Gloria Leal, were available for comment. -Chuck Strouse

Keep your kid Billy's pockets free of ganja lint. If he's busted, he might just spend eight hours next to a seventeen-year-old who murdered his parents with a lead pipe.

And if little Billy gets a beating, no one may be around to hear him scream.

Miami-Dade commissioners recently renewed the Wackenhut Corp's contract to run the Juvenile Assessment Center for another three months. We county taxpayers will be handing the security giant another $420,000 to process and provide service for all of Dade county's arrested youths.

The decision seems odd considering the county has been counting guards since October. The new "Personnel Presence Reports" reveal that the facility was understaffed for 25 of 26 days in November. At certain times, there was only one guard present — though six are required.

Moreover, county administrators for months have been reviewing faked time sheets and alleged skulduggery by Wackenhut and its employees both at the JAC and on Metrorail, where the firm supplies the guards. New Times wrote about it not long ago.

So if you're riding the rails.....

Calvin Godfrey

Katie Edwards, executive director of the Dade County Farm Bureau, was very happy with our cover story about the Natacha Seijas recall. Edwards left the following congratulatory message on my voicemail:

"Hi Frank Alvarado, this is Katie Edwards calling from Dade County Farm Bureau. Wanted to call and tell you what a piece of shit you are because we had a really great conversation and I think you put a lot of real BS and lies in the Miami New Times. I'd be happy to send you a copy of the check that the commissioner gave us, which was not for $10,000, which I told you. But you went ahead and printed lies in your piece of crap newspaper. So I hope you can sleep well at night knowing that you feed the public a bunch of lies and malignant bull crap. Good for you Frank. I need you to do the right thing by telling the correct story. You're a liar."

Indeed, when I interviewed Edwards, she said Seijas insisted the bureau received only $5,000 from the commissioner's discretionary fund. But according to an August newsletter Seijas sends to residents in her district, she gave the bureau $10,000.

Francisco Alvarado

During his 33-year career at the Miami Herald, Tom Fiedler won the Pulitzer Prize for covering an extremist group in Liberty City, took down presidential hopeful Gary Hart, and pissed off Miami's Cuban-American community.

On Friday, the McClatchy Co. — the Herald's parent owner — announced Fiedler's replacement: Anders Gyllenhaal, editor and senior vice president of the Minneapolis Star-Tribune.

Fiedler, who is 60, will retire in February. He will serve as editor-at-large during the transition, according to a story posted on the paper's website.

'It has been an honor for me to have led The Miami Herald newsroom and to have been a journalist here,'' Fiedler was quoted as saying. ''The contributions I have made are few in comparison to the friendships I have treasured and the lessons I have learned.''

Fiedler certainly has learned many lessons over the past few years at the helm. Current and former journalists at the paper thought that Fiedler was a great guy and an excellent reporter — but not cut out for management.

It didn't help that Fiedler's reign came during a tumultuous time: a former city commissioner killed himself in the paper's building (Arthur Teele), a top columnist was fired (Jim DeFede) and the paper skirmished with its Spanish-language sister publication (El Nuevo Herald and the TV/Radio Marti scandal).

But in recent years, he got into hot water with the city's Cuban-Americans. When Publisher Jesus Diaz resigned in October, Fiedler dismissed the notion that the paper was caving into critics. He said that the ''22 people who listen to Cuban radio'' were being stirred up by ''little Chihuahuas nipping at our heels.'' He later apologized for his word choice.

Sometimes it isn't easy to preach to the choir. FIU's rock and roll professor, Dr. Armando Tranquilino, lectured about the Beatles to an audience of eager babyboomers — and a few twenty- and thirty-somethings -- at last night's Culture in the City talk in Coconut Grove.

For a Ph.D., the guy looked the part: faded jeans over well-worn black boots, nicely cut white shirt untucked under a casual blazer (which, true to rock'n'roll style, he removed midway through his presentation). And he had the gear: a pretty Taylor acoustic guitar and a hefty Rickenbacker bass.

His story of the Beatles arrival and evolution hit all the familiar — but oh so right — notes. He augmented his observations with a little music theory, discussing the Fabs' uncanny, untrained abilities to alight on surprising chord and even key changes.

Unfortunately, he lingered too much on the early material, with sound clips that played a tad too long, even if they did incite a lot of toe-tapping and singing in the crowd of a couple dozen. He also got hung up with a lot of interruptions from his audience of well-versed Beatle fans, who corrected minor details and asked a lot of questions.

Before he'd finished exploring Rubber Soul, the Beatles' sixth album, he announced, "OK, I'm going to have to skip through Revolver, Sgt. Peppers, and The White Album —"

The crowd erupted: "NOOOOO!!!!" Everyone knew that was the best stuff. Tranquilino relented, but only a little, as he had run long. But he finished beautifully, playing along with the immaculate bass line from George's "Something."

This being Coconut Grove, one guy broke into the professor's discourse on the genius of Paul's key shift in "And I Love Her": "I realize this may be off topic, but what I want to know is, how did they split the money?" -Frank Houston

This past weekend, Terry Murphy, chief of staff of Miami-Dade County Commissioner Natacha Seijas (subject of this week'scover story), was busy protecting his cushy government post. For the past two months, a political action committee has been busy campaigning for the recall of Murphy's boss.

On December 9 and 10, Murphy traveled from his South Miami home to the Miami Lakes library reportedly to heckle members of the recall PAC, who were passing out literature to early voters.

"He was really rude," says recall leader Pat Wade, "yelling 'vote no to the lies' and that we committed voter fraud." When she confronted him, Wade says, Murphy snapped. "He said I was going to jail and that he could not wait to see me in handcuffs," Wade alleges.

The recall committee is facing accusations that they forged signatures and lied to voters in order to get their petition on the ballot — charges being investigated by local law enforcement authorities. Wade and her comrades maintain their innocence and say the criminal probe is part of Seijas's smear campaign against them.

The following day, Murphy's antics continued. This time he spat bile at Wade's husband John, who tape-recorded the episode with Murphy's permission. During the heated exchange, Murphy cites a letter from the Miami-Dade state attorney's office claiming that 80 people had either claimed their names had been forged or that they were misled into signing the petiton. "That is pretty big time voter fraud," Murphy said. "Would you agree to that?"

John Wade vehemently disagreed. He said: "Has it been proven in court? Have there been any charges filed?" On December 11, John Wade filed a complaint against Murphy with the Miami-Dade ethics commission, providing investigators with a copy of the tape. The Redland activist accuses Murphy of violating county campaign laws and the home rule charter that county employees are not supposed to spread misinformation to the public. If found culpable, the employee is subject to termination.

"No member of our group has been charged with a crime, much less proven guilty," John said. "But he is out there spreading untruths."

Three voicemails were left for Murphy left at Seijas's office; he didn't return the calls.
-Francisco Alvarado

David Bouley Evolution, the South Beach outpost of one of New York's finest chefs, and Table 8, the South Beach outpost of one of Los Angeles' finest chefs, have opened their doors, almost simultaneously, less than two blocks apart from each other on Collins Avenue. Does this mean Miami is finally a player in America's elite league of great dining cities? Nah...

But we've come a long way, baby.

The Bitch was recently put in touch with Will Johnson after a brief email exchange with Coconut Grove community activist Sue McConnell about criminal activity in the McMansion-happy hood. Specifically, the hound had asked, "What's the suggested course of action when .. drug dealing is going on at the home of an immediate neighbor? As in, after you report this person, and he gets a desk appearance ticket and is back to business in hours but certainly they know it's me who reported them, then what? ... Drug dealers don't think they're doing anything wrong; that's why they're in the business they're in. They think you're doing something wrong if you interfere in their commerce. So then what?"

Johnson, the longtime West Grove pundit and occasional columnist for the "Neighbors" section of the Miami Herald and Miami magazine, had plenty to say, which The Bitch is going to kind of reprint verbatim as follows. It's interesting to note, for what it's worth, that Johnson transmitted this manifesto from his miamidade.gov email address, where he works as an aide to District 7 County Commissioner Carlos Gimenez.

As police study the grainy video recorded by security cameras during the North Miami Beach shooting of former University of Miami basketball player Bradley Timpf, one has to marvel at the black cloud that has descended over the University of Miami sports community this year.

First, in July, junior safety Willie Cooper was shot in the buttocks outside of his off-campus apartment. Teammate Brandon Meriweather returned fire with his semi-automatic pistol at the assailant, who wore a bandana and drove a blue Audi.

On November 8, defensive lineman Bryan Pata was fatally shot in the head outside of his Kendall apartment, a mystery still unsolved.

On November 29, tragedy struck UM men's basketball coach Frank Haith when Sean Bell, his 23-year-old nephew, died after being shot by New York City policemen the day before Bell was to be married.

Last Sunday an unknown assailant gunned down Bradley Timpf in the parking lot of a North Miami Beach Houston's — a UM alum who to all appearances was simply an amicable chiropractor.

And then, of course, there was this:

While the killings of Sean Bell and Bradley Timpf are only tangentially related to UM, the football team's issues directly involved UM student athletes. Guns are not allowed on campus, but UM officials have said there is little they can do about students owning guns off campus — indeed, Brandon Meriweather's armed retaliation last summer was fully within the limits of Florida law. -Emily Witt

Update: The Universityof Miami sent the following statement via email Monday in response to this post:

Bryan Pata and Willie Cooper were victims of off-campus violence, not the instigators. As to the FIU incident, the actions of those involved were inexcusable and they have been appropriately disciplined and are also doing community service. We do have and are intensifying our programs with respect to appropriate behavioral actions.

The University has a uniform policy with respect to not allowing guns on campus. That policy is also in place for members of the football team living off-campus and we are currently discussing the possibility of extending that policy to all student-athletes.

Sweet baby Jesus would be so proud of the people running Family New Life Center in Wynwood. The homeless family shelter is run by Catholic Charities, a non-profit social service division of the Archdiocese of Miami. The wrought-iron gated 15-room facility provides downtrodden families rooms for $200 a month, plus a plethora of programs to help them get back on their feet.

On Tuesday, December 12, Family New Life director Wilton Escarmant evicted Shantaa Smith and Carissa Blankenship, two single mothers who were protesting deplorable living conditions at the center. "They're supposed to be helping you get off the streets," Smith groused. "Instead, they're throwing us out two weeks before Christmas."

At the heart of the dispute: a mold infestation plaguing the building, located at NW 36 Street and First Avenue.

Busted! The U.S. Government has fined director Oliver Stone for illegally traveling to Cuba.

According to a tersely-worded Department of Treasury document released Dec. 1, the IXTLAN Corp. of Santa Monica, Ca. -- Stone's production company -- will pay $6,322.20 to "resolve allegations of violations of the Cuban embargo." The violations occurred between Feb. 2002 and May 2003.

The report continues: "OFAC alleged that IXTLAN and four individuals dealt in services in which the government of Cuba or a Cuban national has an interest incident to the making of a documentary film. The matter was not voluntarily disclosed to OFAC."

Stone, of course, is no stranger to Cuba; he produced two documentaries on the country. One, called Comandante, was a friendly look at The Bearded One. HBO had planned to show the film, then yanked it. Stone then went back to the island for more footage and the result was Looking For Fidel. The film was never commercially released in the U.S. It ran on HBO in 2004.

Of course, journalists can legally travel to Cuba, under US treasury rules. But a 2004 interview with Stone reveals that he didn't consider himself a journalist when he interviewed Castro for the movies. Said author and Cuba expert Ann Lousie Bardach: "I gather you rejected the idea of demonizing him."

Stone replied: "Of course. My role here was not as a journalist. It really was as a director and filmmaker. In my job, I challenge actors. I provoke them."

Calls to Stone and his agent went unanswered.

There's something seductive about new condo projects. The slick marketing, the efficient floor plans, the free booze at the launch party. New condos promise a new life, an organized life, a tidy, clean, no-pet-furballs-rolling-across-the-floor life. Maybe that's why, one night last week, I tried to convince my boyfriend that a 330 square-foot studio apartment is a really good investment.

"Amore mio," he said, in Italian, shaking his head. We were huddled in a tiny kitchen in a tiny studio for sale at The Boutique, a new condo-conversion near the 79th Street Causeway. He pointed with his free beer at the folded-up Murphy bed. "Are you going to pull that down whenever you want to take a nap? And what about the cats? We won't be able to get away from them." I sighed, imagining our cats leaping from the bed to the
kitchen counter. But the price was so right, I pleaded. $140,000! The wood floor! The Lilliputian dishwasher!

The boyfriend wondered how much the one-bedrooms were. We located a sales guy who was sitting near a plate of cookies (fortunately, the studio was so small that everything appeared to be within arm's reach) and inquired. "About $282,000," the salesman said. He
was trying to sound cheery about the price. I did some calculations in my head; that's about $2,500 a month.

He informed us that he had bought a studio and rolled in the price of a Murphy bed in the mortgage, an extra $5,000. "I got the white lacquer version, much more modern," he said.

We asked about laundry hookups. "There's a laundry room on premises," he said. $280,000 for a 750-square foot condo and you still have to schlep your dirty clothes to the laundry room? We trudged downstairs for more free booze. The developer, an effervescent man from California, showed us the one-bedroom still under construction by candlelight. It seemed gargantuan compared to the studio; its only downside was that the living room window was just feet away from the parking space. "You could see your cars right here!" the
developer said. (Perfect! We could watch someone steal our cars from the
privacy of our own home.)

The developer continued. "You're the type of couple we want here," he said. "Young, professional, educated."

Unfortunately, I thought, those three adjectives don't necessarily translate into homeownership, at least not here in Miami. -Tamara Lush

Far from the hustle of Art Basel's sundry fairs, Pablo Cano's City Beneath the Sea, the artist's ninth annual marionette show, played this weekend to a less-than-rapt audience of children -- and their dazzled parents -- at the Museum of Contemporary Art in North Miami.

The marionettes are exquisite, crafted from all sorts of strange objects. Princess Tula, the star, has a plastic outdoor lamp for a head; her mother Queen Coral has a transparent body made from inflatable plastic and plastic champagne flutes. You can see why Cano's stuff enjoys a place in several international art collections, including the Rubell Collection in Wynwood.

The tricky part is, kids don't care about that stuff. Many were transfixed by the show, in which a princess learns to accept her civic responsibility and ends up saving her kingdom. The marionettes bobbed and floated against a simple backdrop of sea creatures to the accompaniment of a four piece band.

But the smaller ones fidgeted; some slept, and others seemed unsure of the play's artistic merits. After the show, parents took their kids to the edge of the stage, emphatically pointing out the wondrous craftsmanship of the puppets, which Cano makes by hand in the garage of his Little Havana house.

After one woman deposited her son to the ground and continued to gaze on the display, the boy tugged at her coat. A father and son made their way out of the auditorium through Bruce Nauman's neon installations. The boy glanced up quizzically at his father, who looked down and told him, "It's art." -Frank Houston

Lisa Mazique, head of Miami's economic development department since June, had her New Orleans home razed this past weekend.

New Times wrote about Mazique's legal wrangling over the rundown Victorian house in September. She came to our fair city from flood-ravaged New Orleans, where she had run an agency responsible for removing urban decay. Ironically, during her time in the Big Easy, Mazique bought a dilapidated house and moved it to a parcel of land too small to hold it legally. A soap opera, which included Mazique suing the city and the Times-Picayune bemoaning the "monumental mess," ensued.

Fast-forward to this past Saturday: armed with a demolition permit declaring Mazique's property "dangerous and hazardous situation" in "imminent danger of collapse," a work crew leveled the thing. An official with the city's department of safety and permits said the city will send Mazique a bill for the job.-Rob Jordan