Christ. It's dead Jesus on the license plates.
C'mon. Bumper stickers aren't enough? Where's my Scientology plate?
Christ. It's dead Jesus on the license plates.
C'mon. Bumper stickers aren't enough? Where's my Scientology plate?
"Car 207, we’ve got a 499 at the McDonald’s at 6-1-5 North US-1. Please respond. Over."
Ha ha ha. Let’s laugh at the dumb Floridian for dialing 9-1-1 for a “McNugget emergency.” (You know, "McNugget Emergency" would be a pretty sweet McD’s campaign. Like the Big Mac Attack, without the unfortunate coronary association.)
But McDonald’s is really the one at fault here. What kind of business takes your McNugget money, then tries to give you a cheeseburger because they're out of McNuggets? Then they refuse to refund your money because “All sales are final”? That's total bullshit (as opposed to the burgers themselves, which are now merely 8% bullshit).
It’s a wonder young Latreasa Goodman didn’t give the staff at the Golden Arches something to call 9-1-1 about. Because I would have.
Florida crazy + San Francisco crazy = Jeb! Bush for President 2012!!!
And we can thank this gentleman for reminding us very explicitly that Jeb once governed the Pride of the Nation.
Florida is doomed.
It's not just the bulletproof alligators or inevitable ocean flooding or DEA gunslingers firing weapons in elementary schools.
The whole rotten pyramid scheme that is Florida's economy is unraveling.
For a century, Florida has grown and grown, from a swampy southern frontier, to vacationland, to the capital of Latin America, to America's fourth-largest state. More than 18 million humans now call Florida home, in spite of the state having few urban cores or large employers.
Anyone who has lived in Florida knows that the state's primary economic engine is development. Developers buy land, they build on it, they sell it to the 1,000 people a day who arrive. Then they funnel some of their profits back to government officials via bribes or contributions. "Politician indicted for development deal" is Florida's standard dog-bites-man headline.
But the growth has helped everybody who was already in Florida. Years before the Florida housing bubble, seemingly everybody had a real estate license. The bubble, however, brought everybody to the trough. And real estate bubbles don't pop; they deflate. In year three of the Great Deflation, Florida looks more fucked than anywhere.
State and city budgets, dependent on sales and property taxes, are utterly devastated. The absence of a state income tax, once of Florida's great draws, is now a brutal liability. No fewer than 26% of mortgages in the Miami are destined for write-offs, leading Forbes to declare Miami America's 9th most miserable city. Crime -- always one of Florida's great problems -- is destined to rise again. And a new class of homeless is roaming the state's meager shelters.
(The New Yorker has an excellent piece on this topic in the current issue. It's not available online, but this brief video gives a taste.)
Will the state come back? Eventually, prices will drop to very, very low points. The winters will still be warm. Disney World will still be charming the kiddies. A recent Pew study showed that Orlando and Tampa are, respectively, where Americans would third-most and fourth-most like to live. (Really???)
But what will people do for a living when the primary industry -- building houses and condos -- is down for a decade? Will people still move to state with dilapidated services, soaring crime, and broad economic hardship?
Don't even mention the bulletproof alligators.
Christmas in Florida Keys sounds pretty good to anyone living in the northern half of the USA right now. But if you plan on flying to Miami and then driving the three hours down to Key West (truly one of America's Great Road Trips), keep your foot from getting too heavy.
Casey Jones, you better watch your speed.
Word to MALV for the heads-up.
Of course, "traffic laws" in South Florida are defined and enforced as well as pro wrestling rope rules. ("He's outside the ropes so George can't hit him and OHHH he smashes him in the face anyway!")
But if you're going to perpetrate an armed home invasion for the purpose of stealing a three-dollar kitchen tool, you're going to feel Johnny Law's boot up in your arse.
Police caught the men outside the home and they are being held in Orient Road Jail. One suspect also faces a charge of aggravated assault.
Police found the eggbeater in the man's left pocket.
Imagine this: You're hanging out in your living room, reading your Facebook News Feed, thinking about getting to bed early.
Suddenly, two shadowy men bust through your back door. One points a gun at you, while the other holds a knife to your throat. You silently freak out, paralyzed with fear and shock. You're visualizing your own death, thinking about your mom and your childhood, your regrets, your missed opportunities, your failures, the people to whom you owe apologies. For the first time since childhood, you pray.
You hope these men do you quickly, and don't try to molest you or humiliate you before you take your last breath.
Then they take your eggbeater and go.
Word to Spertus Interruptus for the heads-up on this.
Florida: Where Stupid Goes to Live Out Its Golden Years
BAREFOOT BAY -- A sign in one man's front yard has stirred up a controversy in his community.
Neighbors of Andy Lacasse said the sign, which reads "Obama Half-Breed Muslin [sic]," breaches the fine line between free speech and inappropriateness.
The question of Obama being muslin has already been settled. But that site must be unavailable in Barefoot Bay, which sounds like the setting for a wild comedy about beer, breasts, and boats.
"I got nothing good to say about Obama," Lacasse told News 13. "If I see anybody touching that sign, I got a club sitting right over there."
The coming race war will be fought with stone age weapons.
Lacasse put the sign on his lawn Saturday. A Korean War veteran, he said he was a registered Democrat until Obama won the nomination.
"That's the Democratic Party. They're nothing but a bunch of cutthroats," Lacasse said. "Like I always said, you show me an honest politician, I'll show you an honest thief."
And a redneck will not be denied.
Lacasse said he plans to put an even bigger sign in place of the small, handmade one.
Get a brain, morans.
What a great night. Ken Griffey, Jr., one of baseball's most admired players, clocked his 600th homer, joining only Sammy Sosa*, Willie, the Babe, Hammerin' Hank, and Surly Unemployed Monster* in this elite club.
Too bad the big swing had to be at a 20%-full Dolphins Stadium, where Marlins fans can hardly be bothered to fight exurban traffic in spite of the home team's flirtation with first place all season.
And, well, Miami is siempre Miami:
Controversy ensued in the stands following the home run. Justin Kimball, a 25-year-old from Miami, said he caught the home run ball, put it in a wool cap and then had the cap ripped from his hands. Kimball said someone ran off with the ball.
Police said they had found the fan with the baseball and would look at video tape to see if Kimball's claims could be supported.
However, the Florida Marlins announced Major League Baseball had authenticated the home run ball for a middle-aged male fan who would only give his first name as Joe.
Of course this happened. And for only a minor milestone ball.
Back in the '80s, I went to a hell of a lot of U-Miami games at Mark Light Stadium. Tickets were cheap ($3, or $5 for the Gators, Seminoles, or Longhorns), and the atmosphere was fun. But they had one rule -- if you caught a ball, you had to hand it back to security. Some folks thought it was to save money on balls. But those of us in public high school knew why they enforced this rule. Yes, in Miami even a pop foul from a 19-year-old left fielder was potential stabbing fodder.
People send me great Sunshine State catastrophes all the time, but only a few are as transcendently awful as this:
Monster Truck Property Nears End of Road
A panel of circuit judges has given a green light for Royal Palm Beach to foreclose on a Saratoga Pines property best known for the Ford F-650 monster truck that sat in its driveway - plus the sidewalk and part of the lawn.
Jeff George said he plans to keep fighting the village. "If I do lose, I'll sue the village," the 27-year-old said.
Royal Palm Beach doesn't particularly want to foreclose on the home, Mayor David Lodwick said. Instead, it wants the property to be in good condition and wants $15,125 in overdue fines...
The 12,000-pound truck wasn't the only problem at 178 Monterey Way. For at least a year trash piled up outside the house, from food wrappers to rubber tires. The lawn got so high, neighbors cut it with their own mowers. The unfenced pool grew green with algae. Eventually, things got bad enough for the county health department to step in.
George, who was born in Royal Palm Beach and grew up in Wellington, said the village has become "stuck up."
"Who cares if there are tires outside?" said George, who views himself as living "on the edge" and admits he isn't good at following rules.
He once joked to a Palm Beach Post reporter that, when he learned his neighbors hated his giant - and loud - truck, he cut the tailpipe so the sound would boom louder...
The house has been empty since early this year, a peaceful welcome for neighbors... George declined to say where he moved - only that he's not in Royal Palm Beach.
"It's socialist," he said. "All they want is money."
You hate to root for a huge asshole like Jeff George (either of them), but on the surface this story has a wonderful slobs-vs.-snobs theme. Like Caddyshack. Except the chief slob isn't a club peon trying to win a college scholarship; he's a miserable dickhead with a monster truck and a heart of shit. And the snob isn't Ted Knight; it's a local government trying to fund schools and police.
Go snobs go!
But 57 is also the edition of FPOTN where I bring back some simple relics from South Florida.
Broward County welcomes Duff Man. Or maybe Kool-Aid Man. I'm not sure; the windows were tinted pretty dark.
Low weakly rates for your most manly or womanly of purposes.
Baby Gap may distribute this piece nationally, but Miami parents seem most likely to dress their two-year-olds in shirts that say, "I'm bangin' your toddler at nanny-share."
Jew Quest. The hottest game in Boca Raton.
Correction: My friend Jay says this game is really Ed Jew Quest. It's kind of fun at first, but then it drags on way longer than you want it to.
One last one from Matty Matt: The world's most useless wheelchair ramp.
1. On an ancient Simpsons episode (that's two Simpsons references this week, people!), Principal Skinner explains to Rev. Lovejoy how he came to spot Bart in a burlesque house. He says, "I was only in there to get directions how to get away from there."
Ricky Williams is back with the decrepit Miami Dolphins. He may look like Tiki Barber now, but his attitude is all Skinner-in-a-burlesque-house.
"It's just going to help me get to where I want to be. I want to get on with my life. I want to go back to school and pursue a profession outside of football. Playing football is the best way for me to get there."
See, he's just playing football to not play football. This is strikingly similar to my explanation of why I smoke crack at cockfights.
2. Above the Law is a snarky blog for and about lawyers and this fahcachta legal system of ours. Naturally, their best material comes from... well, guess.
And you really won't ever see a more amusing legal document than the plaintiff's motion to recuse because, plaintiff claimed, the judge blew him back in their UM days:
During this time, Miss Barzee, while intoxicated, dismissed the apology and chalked her response up to "that time of the month" and then led the defendant to a more secluded room that was not as heavily trafficked as the rest of the house, and began what later results in fellatio and resulted in the plaintiff screaming so loud that he was later told that he may have set off an alarm in a parked car outside.
Judge denied both the allegation and the motion. The plaintiff has as much chance to winning his case as the Dolphins winning the AFC East ever again.