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As you’ve probably may have guessed from being a regular here, I’m no fun to be around during a Dolphins game. I yell, I kick, I throw shit. I’m even more aggressive when I’m at a game. A buddy of mine was able to score a couple of Club level tickets for this Sunday’s game against the Jets. He invited me to come along. He has no idea what he’s in for.

So, it’ll be me, a shit-load of alcohol, an 0-11 team and about 2,000 New Yorkers. It’s the perfect bouillabaisse of piss, vinegar and douche. Me and 2,000 shit heads who believe they’re entitled to bitch about living in Miami when, in actuality, they all moved down here because no one wants to live in the Earth’s Asshole. Sounds like a lovely way to spend a Sunday afternoon. Nothing but hairy chested dudes with gold chains sans deodorant yet lathered in Driven, coupled with women who all uncannily look and smell like the crack of a baboon’s ass. So, should be good times all around.

In either case, this is it, as far as I see it. This is our last best shot at getting a damn win and avoiding the worst season in the history of the NFL. The Dolphins are actually favored since the defense has been outstanding lately and the offense has been, um, well, uh... I don’t know why we’re favored. Las Vegas can be fucking stupid sometimes.

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If South Beach sex shops, Pleasure Emporium and Déjà vu Love Boutique were porn legend Ron Jeremy, then the brand new sensually glamorous boutique Sex &… is Jeremy shaved, toned, tanned, but still very well endowed. Meaning that Sex &… won’t just help you to get the job done, you’ll actually like what you see too. The women-only, members-only erogenous escape located at 743 Washington Avenue begs you to touch, try and buy everything within the black-lacquered walls. And at a recent media day, the more buzzed I became off of the gratis bubbly at the champagne bar, the more I wanted to do as they told. I was enchanted by the jaw-dropping (in price and style) jewelry, enraptured with the raspberry tartlets and craved to be a member so I could feel this way everyday. It felt good to know that no man would be allowed inside the walls unless I invited him in, and even better to know that if perhaps, I became drunk as a sexy skunk, the car service would gladly deliver me to my (or his) front door.

As a purveyor of exclusive, high-fashion and upscale brands, Sex &… sells everything from couture gowns to erotic-themed housewares, pet couture and even Swarovski-crystallized staplers. And while you will find vibrators beneath the glittering Roberto Cavalli chandeliers, they’re 24k gold and lie alongside $600 lingerie sets and butter-soft velvet handcuffs. Today’s grand opening is the last day that any regular ol’ plain Jane can step through the sliding glass doors of the Sex & … boutique without a membership, so RSVP to TARA, INK at 305-864-3434 ext. 199 and prepare to get turned on. -- Raina McLeod

Erol Josue, the singer-dancer-actor-vodou priest featured in the New Times in September, was recently the subject of a long piece on NBC6. Check it out here.

-Tamara Lush

Maybe you have heard about today's planned protest of Burger King. If you haven't, here are the details: the Coalition of Immokalee Workers -- a farmworkers' rights group based in Southwest Florida -- is holding yet another rally in an attempt to urge the fast food giant to pay higher wages to the people who pick the tomatoes that end up on the Whoppers. The group wants Burger King to pay one penny more a pound for the tomatoes. According to the New York Times, which ran an excellent op-ed piece on the subject this week:

Telling Burger King to pay an extra penny for tomatoes and provide a decent wage to migrant workers would hardly bankrupt the company. Indeed, it would cost Burger King only $250,000 a year.

If you're interested in details on today's nine-mile march, including the protest route and rally at Burger King headquarters, go to the CIW website. For information on how today's rally will affect downtown traffic -- and it will, because 1,500 people expected to march -- check out this story in the Herald.

Another good way to join in solidarity with the farmworkers: lay off the Whoppers.

--Tamara Lush

At the Miami Heat game Tuesday....

The Golden Oldies, time-out dancers with soft bellies, gray hair and jiggling thighs earned with age, shook to booty music.

(Boisterous applause, knee-slapping laughter, giggles)

Then, the sexy, hair-tossing twenty-somethings clicked across the court in heels and pranced while some seemed to long for poles.

(Catcalls, yee-haw, ow-ow-ow!!!)

Soon, Brooke Hogan, the Hulk's daughter, appeared bigger than the family's reality show on the giant screen with white-blond hair, long pink nails and a sheepish smile.

(Yay, woo-hoo!, clapping)

Not long after Governor Charlie Crist, sitting a row or two back from court side with an attractive brunette, waved to the crowd and looked dapper in a suit and yellow tie.

(Clap...Boo...Clap...Quiet)

For those keeping track: funny old people and sexy dancers tied; reality show star had a decent showing; and the man who could make the state much better or worse has had better nights.

(Later, the Heat beat the Charlotte Bobcats 110-90.) -- Janine Zeitlin

Both the Palm Beach Post and the Miami Herald are calling for Cam Cameron to cut John Beck's cord and let him fucking sling the rock already. I added the fucking for emphasis.

Says Greg Stoda:

"Let [Beck] heave more than one deep toss to Ted Ginn Jr ... Have him throw on first down more often than not. Give him the keys to the two-minute offense, and do it four or five times ... Enough with the kid-glove treatment. The Dolphins made the decision a few weeks ago to use the remainder of the season to study Beck, and time's a-wastin'."

Says Armando Salguero:

"In giving [Beck] the keys to the offense, they have declined to put any gas in the tank. While it is true Beck is now Miami's starting passer, he is more accurately the starter handing off to a running back. In other words, the Dolphins have put something of a tight leash on Beck. They have run the football 43 percent of the time this season but in the past two games since Beck became the starter, Miami has raised its runs frequency to 51 percent of the time..."

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A group of sixteen Miami-Dade pastors and ministers, mostly from Black Baptist churches, held a press conference today at Jordan Grove Missionary Baptist Church in Liberty City to declare their opposition to gambling in the Miami Jai Alai, Flagler Dog Track, and Calder Race Track.

There was something depressing about the event. What was it?

Was it the staging? The pastors gathered atop a shoddy wooden stage in front of a shoddy fold-out table to make their announcement in front of an audience of less than a dozen people. Three of them, including New Times, were reporters.

Was it the questioning? The Miami Herald’s Joshua Johnson seemed rather unduly bent on mocking the pastors’ position. What about money for education, he asked. When the pastors suggested that gambling is no solution to Dade's educational woes, Johnson moved on to another line of questioning: What about his, Johnson's, dear old grandmother? She plays the lotto. “What would you tell me to tell my grandmother?” he asked.

Not that anyone in the group was talking about ending the lotto, but still -- several pastors replied that for some people (Johnson's grandmother excluded, we hope), gambling can be an addiction.

But still, there was something else that cast a shadow on the whole affair. After the conference, Reverend Dr. Willie Sims (pictured above), who heads the Baptist Ministers Council, emphasized to New Times that he was against gambling because of what he’s seen it do to his own community. “Many of us have family members and parishioners who have suffered from gambling,” he said. “How can we stand before our congregations and not stand against gambling. . . When Jesus walked through the temple, he saw gambling, and he was angry.”

Reverend Sims waved his arm across the Liberty City panorama outside: vacant buildings, empty lots filled with garbage–urban poverty and its trappings.

It was depressing.

“We’ve got enough negative things already,” he said. “We don’t need gambling.”

-- Isaiah Thompson

I don’t expect Rudolph “Rudy” Crew will ever respond to my requests to interview him. However, I recently went the extra mile to catch Miami-Dade’s public schools superintendent at his ninth floor office inside the school district headquarters at 1450 NE Second Avenue. This past November 14, I personally delivered Crew a letter requesting comment on the plight of Patrick Williams, a 41-year-old Miami-Dade County Public Schools teacher. I also included a copy of my first article for his review.

To recap: This past October 19, Williams was removed from his job at William H. Turner Technical High, where he teaches AP Spanish. When Williams had problems with his boss, Principal Valmarie Rhoden, she accused the Jamaican-born educator of harassing her and complained to the school board agency that investigates administrative complaints against employees.

Schools spokesman John Schuster informed me that Crew and other district officials would not comment on Williams while he remained under investigation. I didn’t expect the superintendent would answer my questions, but I wanted him to know how wrongly Rhoden was treating Williams. He is a teacher that the school district should be plastering on all its advertisements. He is fluent in seven languages, is working toward his Ph.D at the University of Miami, takes his students on European trips during the summer, and most importantly, provides phenomenal leadership and guidance to the children he teaches. Don’t take my word for it, just read the comments by his former and current students on our Web site.

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Dinner in Paradise, a monthly series of charity-driven feasts at Paradise Farms in Homestead, inaugurates its third season this Sunday, December 2nd. Paradise proprietor Gabriele Marewski and Michael Schwartz co-founded the event, which is set outdoors on the farm. “There is something very special about eating great food and drinking fine wines in an out-of-the-way setting” says Marewski, “under the stars in the middle of winter.”

The scene starts at 5:00 p.m. with cocktail reception and farm tour. An hour later the guests (maximum of 60) sit outdoors for a six-course dinner cooked by the evening’s featured chefs and highlighting local, organic products paired with wines. Proceeds this season will benefit TREEmendous Miami, a volunteer community-based organization that plants and preserves trees in Miami-Dade County.

This weeks’ all-star lineup of talent is headed by chef Allen Susser (Chef Allen’s). With Mark spending his time in Las Olas, Norman in Key West, Jonathan Eismann in hiatus, and Robbin Haas chilling out on an island somewhere, Susser represents the last Mango-Man standing in Miami. Chef Michael Jacobs (Grass Restaurant & Lounge) and chef Alex Asteinza (of the yet-to-open Canyon Ranch) round out the team.

Six more dinners will follow. The next one, January 13th, is being prepared by chefs Sandee Birdsong (Tantra), Andrew Litherland (Bizcaya at the Ritz-Carlton Coconut Grove), and Gordon Mabury and Brett Rayon of Preston’s at the Loews Hotel. Notwithstanding Susser, the big guns of our gastronomic scene are being saved for future dates. These include Govind Armstrong (Table 8), Michael Bloise (Wish), Giancarla Bodoni (Escopazzo), Schwartz (Michael’s Genuine Food & Drink) -- plus a few other heavy hitters. We’ll keep you posted as they come up.

Advance reservations are required and can be made by visiting www.paradisefarms.net or calling 305-248-4181. -- Lee Klein

Jeb Bush Jr. in the spotlight

Calvin Godfrey

Most of what I remember of George Bush Sr. was that he puked on a Japanese ambassador and comically lied to America about raising taxes.

Then he lost his re-election bid.

Who knew he would spawn a bizarro Kennedy-like brood –one that seems to stretch into a ceaseless horizon of terrifying political possibilities. They love Jesus and warfare. And they aren’t going anywhere.

I was surprised to see that someone nicknamed “Jeb Jr.” would be speaking at a gathering of the Biscayne Bay Young Republicans. I went to my first meeting of the group about four months ago hoping to encounter a band of oddball ideologues. Instead, I found a gathering of rather reasonable and mild people who were more interested in the science of winning and losing an election than touting any crazy right-wing agenda.

They were all quite nice.

The meeting held last night took place at Bernie Kosar’s Steak House in South Miami. Bernie was there, in a t-shirt and a checkered sport coat, shaking people’s hands at the mahogany bar.

I briefly spoke with Jose Flores, the slickly dressed chief officer in Rudy Giuliani’s campaign in Florida. He spoke well about why Giuliani is the most electable Republican on the ticket. His apparent role was to keep an eye on the namesake speaker. The Mexican-American Bush 3.0 stood quietly against the wall, chatting in a blue button up shirt and dark slacks.

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Lawyers in the case of a marooned five-year-old Cuban girl reached a settlement this afternoon.

And the big winner is the girl’s dad, Rafael Izquierdo.

And, of course, the little girl herself. And justice.

“It’s a victory,” says Steve Weinger, Izquierdo’s lawyer, who took the case pro bono. “He gets sole custody of his daughter.”

The agreement, which must still be approved by the family court, allows the family of famed baseball agent Joe Cubas, who is married the five year old’s mother -- to visit every other weekend for 25 months, Weinger says.

After that, Izquierdo could take the girl “anywhere in the world he wants….and that includes Cuba,” Weinger says.

If Izquierdo chooses to stay in Miami, Cubas family would be allowed two more years of visits, the Miami Herald reported.

The case has drawn international attention for two reasons: 1) It echoes that of little Elian Gonzalez, whose custody case caused enormous protests and international outrage a decade ago, and 2) Cubas has amassed an astounding reputation for attracting Cuban baseball players to defect to the United States.

The court had earlier decided in Izquierdo’s favor and the state had appealed. If Miami Dade Judge Jeri Cohen approves the settlement, that appeal would likely be dropped.

Chuck Strouse

Whenever media spotlights shine on the early death of a celebrity like Sean Taylor, the tragedy somehow becomes symbolic of something larger. Maybe it’s fear or a desire to put our finger on something that we feel we can control. If we figure out what caused it, maybe we can stop it from happening. A Miami Herald reader wrote in today’s edition: “The tragic murder of Sean Taylor is the result of what happens when young children do not have strong moral teaching.”

At a 3:15 news conference today, Miami-Dade Police Director Robert Parker said he believed that the killing of the Washington Redskins safety was “random”: “We have no reason to believe that this was anything other than a burglary or an intruder.” Still without suspect descriptions, he said no witnesses have come forward and Taylor’s girlfriend didn’t see the person or people responsible. Random violence that resulted in murder in a community where we live is far scarier than the abstract corrosion of morals. Even scarier, how do we control it?

Police encouraged anyone with information to call Miami Crime Stoppers at 305-471-TIPS. -- Janine Zeitlin

Last night, the Florida Department of Transportation (FDOT) held a meeting – one of many held already, one of many more to come – to solicit input from an advisory panel made up of seven Miami Beach residents on the upcoming Alton Road repaving project, expected to go into 2009.

The Bike Blog got an email about the event – word on the circuit was the anti-bicyclistas were going show up and cause some trouble.

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I made the mistake of eating breakfast while opening an e-mail from a Riptide reader recently. It stated: "Hey good folks at The Miami New Times...here's something worth checking out."

That nice greeting ensured that I would read on:

"There's an under current of activity here in Miami-Dade with the Santeria cult.
Sacrificial chickens are all over the city, one just needs to look for them and there they are ... in Opa-locka, Allapattah , Liberty City and Hialeah.

Why in the year 2007 are these morons killing healthy fowl and bagging them to be left at Rail Road crossings....?"

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Friday, 12:10 AM

It's White Party Weekend, the day after Thanksgiving. A huge fundraiser for CareResource, a South Florida HIV/AIDS charity, The White Party is one of the biggest social events on the gay calendar. This event literally brings in thousands of people from around the world.

Tonight, every gay man I know is currently at Karu & Y for "White Dreams," the big gay boy party of the night, DJs Manny Lehman and Abel are spinning. But I don't care who is at Karu & Y, I don't care that there are Chihuly chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, I don't care how "fabulous" the place is. There is no way I'm driving to the breeding grounds of Miami's herds of crackheads, at 14th St. in Downtown Miami. I'll go when the neighborhood is better.

Instead, I'm here at Nikki Beach for "Cirque Blanc," a party for women who love women and who love to dance with women. Of course, first we all have to get in to the party, but the line is so long, so incredibly slow, I have been here inching forward for over an hour. Did I mention it's raining? Yes, here we are, me and a line of soggy lesbians stretching as far as the eye can see. But no matter, the rain isn't killing their spirits, everyone looks nice with their big smiles on their faces.

Fun fact about this party: you know how clubs park really fancy cars in VIP parking by the front door? Usually at Nikki Beach you'll see Ferraris, Lamborghinis, that kind of thing. Tonight, there is a Nissan Murano and some kind of minivan, right in front. Yes, the lesbians are here. I have never seen this many lesbians in one place.

~~~

Saturday, 4 PM

The White Party Weekend always features certain events: there is the White Party itself, at Vizcaya; there is the "Muscle Beach" party over at the gay beach near 12th St.; and then there is the "Heatwave Pool Party," which moves around the hotels on Ocean Drive. This year, Heatwave is at the Surfcomber Hotel, which actually has a lovely pool. And it's a Doubletree Hotel, who knew it was this nice?

This party is all men, and of course no one is wearing shirts; many, many variations of the Speedo are stretched across the groin areas of the attendees, leaving nothing to the imagination. And the guys are just strolling along, as if they dress like this every day. Actually, they probably do. There is a singer named "Shelina" bouncing across a portable stage by the pool, trying to sing some Latin-infused dance music, and she is awful. But no one is paying attention anyway, with all those almost-naked men to look at. The topic of conversation: how great the party at Karu & Y was the night before. No matter, I had fun dancing with the lesbians.

A handsome gentleman approaches me and introduces himself. He's a dentist from Boston, in town for the party weekend, and he's by himself. He's also wearing a very nice looking pair of Prada sunglasses. So he must be a rather successful dentist. That makes things interesting.

"Are you here by yourself?" he asks.

"I'm here on a press pass," I say, showing him my I.D. emblazoned with the words New Times.

"Oh." He smiles. "So are you going to write about me?"

I tell him I will if he does something interesting. Oh look at that, I'm writing about him. This is called "foreshadowing," kids.

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