By Michael E. Miller
By Ryan Yousefi
By Kyle Munzenrieder
By Sabrina Rodriguez
By Michael E. Miller
By Carlos Suarez De Jesus
By Luther Campbell
By Kyle Munzenrieder
Four decades of bitter disappointment: Most of the time it is a critic from New Times reporting about Cuba. But today I was touched by the beautiful pages devoted to Kathy Glasgow's "A Cuban Idyll." It was sad, sad, sad. Such wasted lives after 42 years of a revolution that was supposed to improve things for the most needy.
Keep the faith, for someday the veil will be lifted: Kathy Glasgow is a terrific writer, but I was somewhat disappointed with the melancholy manner in which she ended "A Cuban Idyll." First of all the enemy is not just Castro but all who tread on the rights of others, and not just in Cuba but in America, too. The difference is that in American one can fight back. Tyrants beware!
Some rhetorical fireworks would have been appropriate, perhaps the words of eighteenth-century English libertarian Richard Price: "Tremble all ye oppressors of the world! Be encouraged all ye friends of freedom and writers in its defence! The times are auspicious. Your labors have not been in vain. Behold kingdoms, admonished by you, starting from sleep, breaking their fetters, claiming justice from their oppressors."
In the meantime, Kathy, please tell your character Benjamin to straighten his shoulders and lift his head up high. His due diligence, even if it is a matter of merely waiting it out, will not have been in vain.
Columnist cheered for inflicting gruesome injuries: When you're hot, you're hot. Brett Sokol's recent "Kulchur" columns have been hitting the nail on the head and driving it straight through your skull.
First was the story about independent movie houses ("Reeling in the Year," January 4). I was a supporter of the Alliance Cinema for many of its early years in Miami Beach, but when the movies became predictable, and were the same as those playing at the high-back-chair megaplex, the megaplex won.
They should have gotten films with much more of an edge, films that make the megaplexes shudder! Being from the edge myself, I can say there are many of us out here under the rocks who would have been crawling out to stand in line. And we did during the three or four movies each year the megaplexes shied from. I hope the Mercury Theater owners get wise to us oddballs under the Miami sun, and to the general public's apathy and desire for a soft cushion under their bums.
Next there was the two-part take on life in club(la la)land ("The Art and Science of Clubland," January 25 and February 1). It's been awhile since I've tripped the velvet-rope fantastic, and I was happy to learn of a club like crobar that was bucking the big-bouncer-attitude trend. It's funny how, when you stop consuming various mind-altering letters of the alphabet, you see the sunrise of club life as all too predictable. There are only so many times a year you can stand to hear a DJ's musical climaxes, fades, and bigger climax, followed by an even bigger climax -- over and over and over and over. It's great the first twelve years, but after that only the letters make it bearable.
Thanks to Kulchur for keeping us on the edge.
May It Please the Court
of Public Opinion
The Leslie Bowe jury is in, and he is outta here: I read with interest the January 4 letter from Mr. Thom Raso about the article on Leslie Bowe winning the lottery. The article by Mike Clary ("Fractured Fortunes," December 14) and letter prove that, all too often, justice is in the eye of the beholder. Let me set the record straight about a couple of important points.
First, I am not Mr. Bowe's favorite person. As an attorney I represented Sylvia Giardina, who won her case to claim her share of the $17 million Lotto prize Mr. Bowe had claimed for himself alone. Everyone I have spoken to who knows Mr. Bowe outside the context of the lawsuit had nothing but nice things to say about him. They could not believe he would cheat his co-workers out of their share of the Lotto prize. In fact his co-workers who were members of the pool couldn't believe it either -- except for Sylvia Giardina. That is why they did not join her case against Bowe. Only later did the others learn the whole story.
Second, Mr. Bowe may still believe he did nothing wrong when he purchased fifteen tickets with money from his own pocket for the September 17, 1994, Lotto drawing -- without cashing the pool's nine dollars in winning tickets from the previous week, purchasing nine tickets with that money, then giving copies to all pool members.
Third, maybe Mr. Bowe is convinced Ms. Giardina lied when she testified that he agreed to replay all winnings every week until there were no more winnings. Maybe he is convinced she lied when she testified that, when he did not replay the winnings for three weeks after the first drawing and she asked him what he had done with the winnings, he said he was sorry and asked if it was all right not to play that particular week and wait until the pot grew to more than seven million dollars.