In honor of the last dwindling hours of the last day (thanks to Mr. Leap Year) of Black History Month, the Bike Blog presents this honorific post to one of the greatest bicyclists of all time, Marshall W. “Major” Taylor.
Incarceration Rates Higher Than Ever – A report from the Pew Center on the States indicates that around 230 million American adults are behind bars. That is 1 in every 100 adults in the U.S. The rate is the highest in the nation's history. Among minorities, the rate is even higher.
Power Outage Cause Still A Mystery – According to FPL investigators, it may take weeks to uncover the definitive cause of Tuesday's power outages. A short circuit at the West Flagler substation is believed to have started a fire that caused the outages. FPL has not released any new data.
Sarnoff Shmarnoff - Sarnoff claimed that he was a descendant o David Sarnoff – he lied. He quickly edited his biography page and let go his claims to a famed lineage.
Just about every beauty-obsessed woman in Miami knows exactly where Brownes and Co. is located – the plushly retro apothecary is a Lincoln Road mecca for product junkies seeking the latest and greatest new gotta-have-it item. Everything from $52 John Galliano Dipytique candles to our favorite $18 Ojon shampoo is there, and it’s all desperately calling our name, just begging to be added to our shopping basket. A new item is adding to the chorus.
Earlier this month, Haiti’s President René Préval asked President Bush to protect Haitians from being deported with a special immigration status. Temporary protected status offers residency and work permits for up to 18 months. It’s been extended to migrants from other countries wracked with political instability or environmental disaster, but never to Haitians.
Last week, two South Floridians in Congress wrote Bush a letter asking him to listen. Good news for Haitians and their supporters, but will anything change? For years, politicians have been deaf to desperate calls for TPS coming from Miami.
Steven Forester, a Haitian Women of Miami senior policy advocate, says the measure may actually have a chance of gaining approval from the lame duck presidency. (It's wildly unpopular in anti-immigration camps.) Forester approached Governor Crist Wednesday to ask for help.
Click here to see the motels on U.S. 1.
Traveling north through and out of Miami on U.S. 1, I see aged motels sagging under the weight of "progress." They weather and deteriorate, like the people that built them. They might have been painted to match the flowers in their gardens, or the owner's wife's favorite color, not according to a set of corporate specifications. And while they now wilt in cramped nooks between strip malls and fast food restaurants, they once advertised paradise.
Welcome to Riptide's newest blog. Everyone has issues with sex, love and relationships, and Magic City Kitty is here to hear you out. Every Tuesday and Thursday, she will be answering your questions and dispensing her considerable wisdom about all things boy-and-girl, girl-and-girl, boy-and-boy, and ... well, you get the point. No question is too risqué and Kitty promises to leave no freak behind. Got a question? A crazy story? A sticky situation? All submissions will be anonymous, send her an email!
And now, Kitty’s inaugural inquiry:
Hello, Kitty
My fiancee and I have been together for eight years, engaged for three, and in a crisis for one. I love him with every piece of me, he’s the most wonderful man in the world –but – and it’s a big BUTT – my problem with him is a bit more (and I hate to say it) superficial. When we met, my baby was tall and lean, now he’s tall and – well, let’s just say he’s let himself go. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no chubby-hater, but my man’s ass is bigger than mine! I’ve never cheated and I never bring up his weight, but I’m a little more than fed up. My lack of attraction for him has gotten so bad that I’ve taken to imagining that David Beckham is in my bed. Even worse, I’m pretty sure he’s picking up on my disgust. Our wedding is coming up fast, and I don’t want to leave my baby over this but a hot sex life is pretty important to me. I don’t want to hurt him but I’m dreading the future already, help!
Stuck between a roll and a hard place
Dear Stuck,
Wow. You start out by saying that you love your man and by the end of your letter you’re ranting about your desire to be with someone who makes your juices percolate. Experts (who are not me) say that true love looks beyond blubber and all else that is purely superficial. I must say that I agree with that, and I believe that if you truly love your chubster you will fight your adulterous urges. I hear you screaming If I could I would! at me, but believe me, you can- - and you have the right idea already. Stuck, your mind’s eye is the most wonderful tool in the bedroom. Fuck the nipple clamps, just bring your imagination.
Last Saturday afternoon, a very young, very earnest-looking Andrew Quintana stood on the street outside the Kentucky Fried Chicken on 41st street, trying to convince Miami – indeed, the world – not to eat there.
“KFC tortures chickens!” he called out to a car that slowed down as the driver gaped at his sign: it depicted a bloody, mutilated-looking chicken hanging upside down with the words “KFC tortures animals,” printed in big block letters. “850 million chickens die for this bucket every year,” Quintana said. “And they don’t even make an effort to make their lives better.”
It was his very first protest ever.
“I was on vacation with my family, and I saw this little baby pig,” the 8th-grader explained. “And I thought, ‘How can I eat this pig?’” He’s been a vegetarian since that pivotal moment -- “I’m working on becoming a vegan.”
But Quintana was not left to protest alone – no no: Mr. Clucky, the famed chicken oft-seen bicycling around South Beach with friend Mark Buckley, was there to see him through. “Mr. Clucky is helping out,” acknowledged Buckley. “Mr. Clucky knows all about torture.” (Buckley has long believed that when Mr. Clucky stumbled out of a nearby shrub and into his life, he had just escaped a Santeria execution).
Quintana’s mom Tania was there too, holding a sign. She’s proud of her son -- “I didn’t do anything to set this up – I’m just supporting him.”
My glass of blush was elegantly served with cookies (how did they know I was a fool for Pirouline?), and while I waited for my waxing appointment, I had time to drink in the ambiance as well as the wine. The Aqua Day Spa is bedecked in the color range you’d expect – all peaceful oceanic tones here. The owners have made the tiny front room seem larger with mirrors.
As I sipped and stared around, two very attentive pedicurists went to town sloughing the feet of their customers. “Here, let me put this aromatherapy pillow behind your neck,” offered the blonde. Oooh. The pillow was warm, curved to fit the shape of my neck, and smelled like lavendar and vanilla. I was loving this place and I hadn’t even had a service yet!
Where: LC’s Roti Shop, 19505 NW 2nd Ave, Miami Gardens.
What $15 Gets You: A chicken roti, a sugar cake, a doubles, and a Coke.
Caribbean cuisine is hard to define because of the mixing of cultures that exist in the area generally referred to as the Caribbean. When a friend suggested that we go get roti, I didn’t know what to expect (think of a giant burrito stuffed with meat and curry and you’ll have a good idea of what it is).
We entered the dimly lit, mostly empty establishment smack in the middle of the Caribbean shopping plaza on NW 2nd Ave. A neon sign on the wall read, “LC’s Roti Shop.” A hand scribbled sign under the menu read, “No credit cards. Only cash.”
The place had that real neighborhood restaurant feel to it, it was a little intimidating however. Here’s a tip: don’t hesitate to order your food or wait there looking mystified as it will be a long while before you get anything.
So now that Fidel is bedridden or beyond, conspiracy theorists may have new targets on which to blame all things shitty in Miami. In explanation for today’s blackout affecting as many as four million South Floridians, a Caracol 1260 AM announcer retorted, “Hugo Chávez cut the lights.” He laughed, though slightly nervously.
One caller couldn’t believe it was somehow “normal.”
On the Miami Herald’s comments section, where crazies often reign, various explanations emerged. Some included that Florida Power & Light was trying to make a strong case for nuclear energy. “FPL is probably about to seek permits for a new nuclear plant and wanted to scare people to avoid public protests.”
“I’m terrified” wrote: “We have 'A massive failure,'' cutting power to 3 Million people in South Florida and FPL is in the dark as to the cause!"
For quite some time, Miami city Commissioner Marc Sarnoff has represented himself as the grandson of the late commercial radio and television pioneer “General” David Sarnoff.
The Russian-American media executive rose through the ranks of the Radio Corporation of America, holding the title of chairman for more than two decades until his retirement in 1970. As RCA’s president in 1939, David Sarnoff launched NBC, the nation’s first TV network. That’s a grandpa any ambitious tyke would love to call his own, and Marc Sarnoff has.
The thing is, the Sarnoff clan has no idea who Marc Sarnoff is.
For the record: I think Chris Long is an exceptional defensive end. And I will be very pleased if Miami ends up drafting him.
I do think that Vernon Gholston is a better prospect. He's a more gifted athlete, more explosive and a more versatile player. His skills, to me, seem as if they will translate a lot better at the NFL level than Long's.
Who said petitions don't work? Well, they really don't. Only sales numbers can compel a company to do anything, but I still say the petition to bring over Persona 3 FES, the expansion to Persona 3, to the states in April had something to do with the Atlus' decision to cave in to fans.
Persona 3 came out in August of last year. It missed getting buried in the deluge of holiday releases by a hair. Thankfully, Atlus fans gobbled up the game like it was manna from heaven. Mot other gamers ignored the game where simulated suicide was the key component to not only the storyline but also the game's mechanics.
Alright everybody, I have a new cause. I will not take solid food until this song -- “Big Alligator” by Chief Jim Billie -- wins a Grammy. In fact, I vow to kill myself if this doesn’t win, like, all the Grammys. Do you hear that Grammy people? Do you hear that Kanye West?
I know your Mom just died. But this guy’s dog got eaten by a gator. OK? A fucking alligator. Let’s all just take a minute to think about what that means. --Calvin Godfrey
