Traditional feminists (but not Camille Paglia's pro-sex sect) will likely be aghast, but our choice features locally based and produced comedic porn "films," weekly episodes showing random women bribed off the street and into a van, then into depravity. This isn't your run-of-the-mill autoerotic stimuli. The site states: "The true story of two guys, a video camera, a big fucking bus, and a lesson on the depths of human debauchery." Each guy comes equipped with an enormous member and a mischievous sense of humor. Questions like, "How do you feel about political ethics in America?" are routinely asked during bonings. Segments featured in the blooper section include episodes where the Bang team misses the targeted girl ("Dude, you just came on my leg!") and a classic wherein a girl's mom calls her cell phone during filming. Of course it's answered, and the mother's voice is actually heard asking for her daughter. "She can't talk" was followed by an obscene description of the slightly perverse activity the girl was involved in at that moment. In case you miss the point, the objective of this Website is not to arouse anything but disgust in what the Bangs see as an "offensively politically correct world."

Launched in 1996 by three Miami brothers-in-law who love to fish and eat la comida Cubana, this is a mouthwatering source of opinions about local Cuban cuisine, from restaurants to recipes. The three guys -- Jorge Castillo, Raúl Musibay, and Glenn Lindgren -- have made several appearances on various Food Network shows and in media articles. But more than a foodish curiosity, the Website is a celebration of Cuban neighborhoods (Little Havana, Hialeah, and others) that offers insights into the differences between the citified Cuban food at Versailles and La Carreta's traditional fare, the advantages of buying produce from street vendors, and, not least, how to party like a Cuban.

The twang-filled guitar notes opening Lantana Sunrise offer a reminder of the days when South Florida roots music had little to do with complex polyrhythms, driving percussion, or so much as a splish-splash of the Caribbean. The grooves laid down by Jim Wurster's outfit are built for comfort, not speed, and as the tasty licks played by pedal steelist Bob Wlos prove, there's little in the way of a broken heart or a weary spirit that a taste of the Cowboys' high lonesome sound can't soothe. Synthless but sensible, the Cowboys may have one boot in bluegrass (picking fluttery acoustic-guitar runs) and the other in Grand Ole Opry-steeped but amped-up rock (think Sweetheart of the Rodeo-era Byrds), but it's pure country, a child of hillbilly, and it has a hold on Wurster. His drawl keeps the group reined in, tied to Nashville tradition, even when Fred Neil's airy melancholia in "Everybody's Talkin'" gets stamped on by a crunching two-step shuffle and some extra evocation of resignation. These are horseless cowboys, makers of driving music, not drovers of overproduced mishmash. Old-fashioned can be better than fashionable.

The twang-filled guitar notes opening Lantana Sunrise offer a reminder of the days when South Florida roots music had little to do with complex polyrhythms, driving percussion, or so much as a splish-splash of the Caribbean. The grooves laid down by Jim Wurster's outfit are built for comfort, not speed, and as the tasty licks played by pedal steelist Bob Wlos prove, there's little in the way of a broken heart or a weary spirit that a taste of the Cowboys' high lonesome sound can't soothe. Synthless but sensible, the Cowboys may have one boot in bluegrass (picking fluttery acoustic-guitar runs) and the other in Grand Ole Opry-steeped but amped-up rock (think Sweetheart of the Rodeo-era Byrds), but it's pure country, a child of hillbilly, and it has a hold on Wurster. His drawl keeps the group reined in, tied to Nashville tradition, even when Fred Neil's airy melancholia in "Everybody's Talkin'" gets stamped on by a crunching two-step shuffle and some extra evocation of resignation. These are horseless cowboys, makers of driving music, not drovers of overproduced mishmash. Old-fashioned can be better than fashionable.

Plenty of unplugged soloists fill rooms with auditory delights. Xela Zaid, for example, can hunch over a guitar and turn your world black as your heart quivers. But this acoustician stands (actually he sits, in the lotus position, when playing) a world apart from the standard electricity-free dude or chick. After decades of study, training, practice, and performance, Stephan Mikés plays sitar at the master level, placing a karmic chapter in the book of cosmic music. Barefoot and ponytailed, gentle but worldly, taught by the best on the planet, Mikés first enters another realm with his giant, stringed gourd-stick instrument across his lap. Then he begins to play tunes from one of his CDs and takes the listener to outer space and beyond. Musical Valium one moment, fire ants in your eyes another, his is both tranquil and stirring music, complex yet smoothly engaging. Playing sitar is extremely challenging. Playing one as well as he does is as rare as a rabbi in the Himalaya mountains.

Plenty of unplugged soloists fill rooms with auditory delights. Xela Zaid, for example, can hunch over a guitar and turn your world black as your heart quivers. But this acoustician stands (actually he sits, in the lotus position, when playing) a world apart from the standard electricity-free dude or chick. After decades of study, training, practice, and performance, Stephan Mikés plays sitar at the master level, placing a karmic chapter in the book of cosmic music. Barefoot and ponytailed, gentle but worldly, taught by the best on the planet, Mikés first enters another realm with his giant, stringed gourd-stick instrument across his lap. Then he begins to play tunes from one of his CDs and takes the listener to outer space and beyond. Musical Valium one moment, fire ants in your eyes another, his is both tranquil and stirring music, complex yet smoothly engaging. Playing sitar is extremely challenging. Playing one as well as he does is as rare as a rabbi in the Himalaya mountains.

Attention Internet hermits: Being online will no longer be an acceptable excuse for your antisocial behavior -- at least not in Coral Gables. Following the lead of many businesses in many cities, the Coral Gables Business Improvement District along with ADX Technologies and IDS Telecom have installed a free (really!) wireless Internet connection on the Mile. The motive: Visitors tech out for a while, then maybe hang out and drop some green at area restaurants and shops. Brilliant! To take advantage all you'll need is a Wi-Fi, or "wireless fidelity," compatible adapter card or wireless-ready computer or portable. The cloud (another nickname for a Wi-Fi zone) is at the intersection of Ponce and Miracle Mile. Plans are in the works (Adobe mostly) to extend this cloud the entire length of the district. Fast approaching is the day of one super computer (named Hal) hooked to every person's keyboard and mouse. Instructions are available at www.gableshotspot.com.

In the theater, sometimes everything just falls into place. That was definitely the case with GableStage's masterful presentation of The Goat. Featuring Edward Albee's bitterly funny script, a fine cast, exceptionally effective direction from artistic director Joseph Adler, and an outstanding set design by Rich Simone, this production was a gleeful blend of absurdity, horror, and dry humor that sent audiences' heads spinning.

A founding member of Miami pop music's adventuresome quartet The Avenging Lawnmowers of Justice (www.avenginglawnmowersofjustice.com), singer and bass player Chris DeAngelis takes a fun stand against product rock with songs such as "Female Telly Savalas" and "(In Hell With a) Cell Phone." This band is so great that its in-studio performance on the WLRN-FM (91.3) program Topical Currents once elicited a torrent of angry letters and phone calls from people demanding to know if "some crazy kids" had taken over the station.

It is, however, as an always genteel and exceedingly competent sound guy that DeAngelis melds technology with altruism. A cohort of other local luminaries, including DJ Le Spam of the Spam Allstars, trusts and reveres DeAngelis's way with knob-twiddling and crowd-gauging.

DeAngelis is also a very funny fellow and the driver of a "soccer-mom-style urban assault vehicle."

Best Local Landmark
The Miami Circle

Sure, I know it's not in the news much anymore, but the Miami Circle has been a local landmark for almost two thousand years. It's only been forgotten for the past couple centuries.

Best Month
August

I actually like August, because no one is left in town but the locals.

Best Not-So-Cheap Thrill
A Night On South Beach

A Tourist's Perspective:
1. Go to a trendy restaurant -- have your car valet parked. 2. You are attended to by an imperious homosexual Italian waiter who mocks your menu selection.
3. Your food arrives; it appears to be Fancy Feast Cat Food artfully arranged on a leaf of lettuce.
4. Pay the bill (fifteen percent gratuity automatically included in spite of the poor service).
5. Get your car back from the valet -- tip him out.
6. The public garage is full, so you take your chances parking in the "residential permit only" back streets six blocks from Washington Avenue.
7. Stand in line in front of a dance club until the big shave-headed guy in the black T-shirt lets you in when you slip him a twenty.
8. Max out your credit card on drinks and dance the night away with a statuesque blond woman until you determine that she's a drag queen.
9. Psychologically shaken, you return to where you parked the car -- it's been towed.
10. You can't get your car out of the tow yard because you spent your last bit of cash on the bag of bogus coke you bought from the drag queen at the dance club.
11. Catch the sunrise while walking across the Rickenbacker Causeway back to your hotel.
COST -- When you tell your friends back in Bean Blossom, Indiana, that you spent last night partying on South Beach: PRICELESS.

Best Reason to Live in Miami
Bragging rights

We’re number one! The blatant corruption of elected officials (and the election process in general), the sexy Latinas, the overblown reputation the city has for crime (which isn’t so bad unless you compare it to a place like, say, Peoria), the availability of a good cup of Cuban coffee or a good plate of Haitian lambi, the “it’s okay to take a left on a red light” traffic rule which only exists here, the famous folks who move here when their careers have gone in the Dumpster. All this has cemented our reputation to the rest of the nation as a place where no one wants to be, but everyone secretly wants to go.

A founding member of Miami pop music's adventuresome quartet The Avenging Lawnmowers of Justice (www.avenginglawnmowersofjustice.com), singer and bass player Chris DeAngelis takes a fun stand against product rock with songs such as "Female Telly Savalas" and "(In Hell With a) Cell Phone." This band is so great that its in-studio performance on the WLRN-FM (91.3) program Topical Currents once elicited a torrent of angry letters and phone calls from people demanding to know if "some crazy kids" had taken over the station.

It is, however, as an always genteel and exceedingly competent sound guy that DeAngelis melds technology with altruism. A cohort of other local luminaries, including DJ Le Spam of the Spam Allstars, trusts and reveres DeAngelis's way with knob-twiddling and crowd-gauging.

DeAngelis is also a very funny fellow and the driver of a "soccer-mom-style urban assault vehicle."

Best Local Landmark
The Miami Circle

Sure, I know it's not in the news much anymore, but the Miami Circle has been a local landmark for almost two thousand years. It's only been forgotten for the past couple centuries.

Best Month
August

I actually like August, because no one is left in town but the locals.

Best Not-So-Cheap Thrill
A Night On South Beach

A Tourist's Perspective:
1. Go to a trendy restaurant -- have your car valet parked. 2. You are attended to by an imperious homosexual Italian waiter who mocks your menu selection.
3. Your food arrives; it appears to be Fancy Feast Cat Food artfully arranged on a leaf of lettuce.
4. Pay the bill (fifteen percent gratuity automatically included in spite of the poor service).
5. Get your car back from the valet -- tip him out.
6. The public garage is full, so you take your chances parking in the "residential permit only" back streets six blocks from Washington Avenue.
7. Stand in line in front of a dance club until the big shave-headed guy in the black T-shirt lets you in when you slip him a twenty.
8. Max out your credit card on drinks and dance the night away with a statuesque blond woman until you determine that she's a drag queen.
9. Psychologically shaken, you return to where you parked the car -- it's been towed.
10. You can't get your car out of the tow yard because you spent your last bit of cash on the bag of bogus coke you bought from the drag queen at the dance club.
11. Catch the sunrise while walking across the Rickenbacker Causeway back to your hotel.
COST -- When you tell your friends back in Bean Blossom, Indiana, that you spent last night partying on South Beach: PRICELESS.

Best Reason to Live in Miami
Bragging rights

We’re number one! The blatant corruption of elected officials (and the election process in general), the sexy Latinas, the overblown reputation the city has for crime (which isn’t so bad unless you compare it to a place like, say, Peoria), the availability of a good cup of Cuban coffee or a good plate of Haitian lambi, the “it’s okay to take a left on a red light” traffic rule which only exists here, the famous folks who move here when their careers have gone in the Dumpster. All this has cemented our reputation to the rest of the nation as a place where no one wants to be, but everyone secretly wants to go.

Best Of Miami®

Best Of Miami®