Last night, Riptide arrived home from sort of watching the debate at a club with an open bar and a wall projector to find out through some social media channel or another that a far more telling meeting of the minds occurred, right here in Miami Beach: that of Kim Kardashian and Hulk Hogan. And, yes, this confab of the reality-TV superstars was Instagrammed.
So just print it out, paste it on the city flag, and put it on all official city letterhead, because no other image quite captures what has become of Miami Beach.
In exactly the same way that the infamous picture of an alligator and python trying to swallow each other perfectly sums up the oddness of the Everglades, the image of a tank-topped and bandanna-clad Hulk Hogan and a minidressed Kim Kardashian is a picture that completely and wholly illustrates the bizarreness of Miami Beach.
Yes, the central figures of classic American tragedies Hogan Knows Best and Keeping Up with Kardashians finally met. If only Honey Boo Boo were of age to join in.
We don't even have to mention what club this is. Anyone who needs to know knows, and even if you don't, it'll be your first guess anyway. And yes, that celeb DJ who used to be relevant but is now cashing in on producing songs for lady beaters and talentless hacks who got lucky once rapping about Gucci was spinning.
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It's not even that we have that much venom for venue, DJ, or participants. As I child, we used to worship Hulk Hogan, and we really don't think Kim Kardashian deserves all the hate she receives. It's just that this is the ugly state of the nightlife scene in Miami, in all its reality-TV-star-obsessed, bottle-service-happy state.
This is the culture of the city we live in. Or at least the culture the rest of the world imagines we live in. Good Lord.