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
When the marina's owner filed for bankruptcy, a court-appointed trustee took over. He arranged for new buyers to take control of the property and, acting on a court order, began the process of removing all assets and tenants, including the nearly dozen live-aboards with barnacle-encrusted anchors.
"We just want to be allowed to stay until the end of hurricane season," says engineer/Vietnam vet/sailor extraordinaire Alfred Irving, a live-aboard who is trying to persuade the trustee, Alan L. Goldberg, to give him and his neighbors until November to find a new haven.
"It's very difficult to find affordable space for a boat in Miami," Irving says. "And this guy is just merciless -- he's giving us a couple of weeks. I'll be all right, but there's a family here with no insurance and a child in the hospital. They don't have the money to do anything but move out into the middle of the bay. What will they do in bad weather?" One of the other live-aboards, according to Irving, is an octogenarian who is in the hospital and may lose a leg to diabetes.
Irving's claim to fame is that he was "the second black guy to circumnavigate the Earth alone." It took him five years, and when he was through, he limped into Miami on a sailboat badly in need of repairs. He's been here for three years getting his boat back into shape. When he leaves, he says, he's leaving Florida for good. (The Bitch wants to know if she can go with him.)
Goldberg says he's not trying to be merciless; he's just following the court order: "And anyway, how do I say this nicely? I have no degree of assurance if I tell them they can stay until hurricane season ends that they'll actually leave. Several of these people are behind in their rent, and some have committed acts of vandalism."
Irving says Goldberg has been intractable and hostile. "Look, I don't mind leaving," he insists. "It just takes awhile to find a new place. And the thing that's scaring everybody is hurricane season. If he would just wait until November 1, there wouldn't be any problem."
New Gold Dream
The Bitch regularly marks her territory from SW 17th Avenue to SW 37th Avenue on Coral Way, so she quickly noticed the 423 new floodlights the City of Miami has installed in the boulevard's median. These spots illuminate the long-limbed branches of the historic banyan trees that have been part of the local aesthetic for more than 50 years. According to a city sign on SW 27th Avenue, the $673,031 used to pay for the floodlights came from the city's Homeland Defense/Neighborhood Improvement bond issue. The curious canine couldn't help but wonder how in the world shining a bright light into a tree constitutes an antiterrorism measure. Are bomb-strapped Muhajadeen warriors expected to hop onto the hoods of Miami motorists?
City spokeswoman Kelly Penton revealed the floodlights are simply intended to beautify the median. "It's going to be an economic catalyst for businesses in the area," Penton noted, adding that the funding for the project was one of many items voters approved in 2001 as part of the bond issue. Nevertheless the floodlights are a tangible example of how city leaders hoodwinked the public by exploiting the fear of terrorism in getting voters to okay the bond issue. Of the $255 million voters approved, only $31 million, or twelve percent, actually went to public-safety projects.
Would You Be Interested in Some Literature About Our Cross-Dressing Fashion Show?
Sundance Film Festival. Snowboarding in Little Cottonwood Canyon. Being able to leave the doghouse unlocked. Cheese and rice! The Bitch has nothing but love for Utah and longs for days as a desert dog.
Still something smelled as funny as a wheat grass martini (that's an alcohol-and-caffeinefree beverage for all you nonBeehive State denizens) about the Miss Ocean Drive female impersonator pageant to be held at Score (727 Lincoln Rd., Miami Beach) on August 29. Nothing to do with the event itself, but the beneficiary: an "animal foundation" based in Provo, right down the road from the zoology research lab at Brigham Young University -- a place where, The Bitch often observed, llamas went in but didn't come out. Not only does a city that boasts a department at Nordstrom devoted to "modest fashions" (for those certifiably XX chromosomed) seem like the last place on Earth to receive funds from a female-impersonator beauty pageant, but where was the local angle?
Turns out Pet Assisted Services, the pageant beneficiary, is a nonprofit founded by veterinarian Yoeny Dobson, owner of the Riverwoods Animal Hospital in Provo. According to Christina Lauritzen, Dobson's assistant, the good doctor may reside in Orem, but she grew up in Miami, graduated from the University of Florida's prestigious veterinary school, was a onetime competitor for Miss Miami, and visits on a regular basis. In developing her charity, she reconnected friends with colleagues in the Miami veterinary community for some national reach. Proceeds from the South Beach version of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Loincloth will aid animals without caretakers, wild animals, and dogs forced to endure living with low-income families. Fans of both knee shorts and knee pads may rest easy.