The Plucky Mr. Clucky
Filed Under: Bike Blog
Local carpenter, handyman, and radical activist Mark Buckley is known for his seven-wheeled creation, dubbed "Frankenbike," which he built out of used frames and chainlink fencing to use as a kind of mascot for local biking group Critical Mass. But Frankenbike isn't Buckley's only claim to fame lately, he's been getting more attention for his pet rooster, Mr. Clucky.
"I found Mr. Clucky around the same time I was putting together Frankenbike," explains Buckley, "and he loves to go out on rides." That's right Mr. Clucky goes bicycling. Buckley usually puts a cardboard box by the handlebars for Mr. Clucky to sit in, "but he doesn't need the box," Buckley says.
When Buckley saw Mr. Clucky for the first time, the rooster didn't look well. "He was kind of exhausted in the bushes, and, you know, he wouldn't eat for a couple of days," remembers Buckley. "Obviously he had escaped from some Santería ceremony or something." Buckley nursed the rooster back to health.
Undaunted by crowds, Mr. Clucky has appeared at the King Mango Strut and at various bike outings. "He's like a little guy in a costume, almost on Halloween, little kids were dropping their candy baskets and following me like I was the pied piper."
When Buckley goes to get coffee in the morning, Mr. Clucky comes along. When Buckley feels a bit thirsty at the end of the day, he and Mr. Clucky stroll out for a brew. These days the rooster/human duo can hardly leave the house without drawing a crowd. Mr. Clucky's wildfire popularity has actually started to get on Buckley's nerves. "The other day I took him for a walk down Lincoln Road to get a beer," Buckley complains, "and it was like, every kid on Lincoln Road wanted to hold Mr. Clucky. It's unreal it fucking weirds me out!"
So why doesn't Buckley just leave Mr. Clucky at home? "He knows the sound of the key in the door, and he gets really upset if I leave him alone." Isaiah Thompson
For He's a Jolly Good Former Transit Director
Filed Under: News
On March 28 the County Commission held a special name-clearing hearing for recently deposed transit director Roosevelt Bradley. Everyone seated at the dais noted that they were personal friends with the bureaucrat and expressed outrage at the firing of their good pal who was terminated by Miami-Dade County Mayor Carlos Alvarez last month for nepotism, incompetence, and his infamous retaliatory behavior.
"You've gotten us ready for the Super Bowl," Barbara Jordan lamented. "And then this happens to you." Natasha Seijas cried.
Bradley was invited to bash every employee that he'd harassed in the past five years. Audrey Edmonson called for the firing of County Manager George Burgess. Piss-poor public transportation ridership was blamed on the laziness of the citizenry. "Unfortunately," Joe Martinez pouted, "until gas is five dollars a gallon, nobody is going to walk to the bus to get on, and that's unfortunate because we have a wonderful transit system."
But the best, most bizarro moment came courtesy of Dorrin Rolle. "I'd like everyone to kind of repeat after me, Mr. Chairman, if you don't mind."
Dennis Moss: [laughs] We'll break protocol.
Rolle: Ohhh Roosevelt!
Everyone: Oohhh Roosevelt!
Rolle: You done good.
Everyone: You done good!
Rolle continued: "You done good and believe me, you have a friend up here. You've heard it from Commissioner Martinez, you've heard it from Commissioner Seijas. You've heard it from Commissioner Pappy Diaz [sic]. And you know I'm from the hood, I see you in the hood a lot. I see you around that barbecue stand over on 22nd Avenue and 60th Street. If I can buy you a barbecue, I will. But it extends further than that. If you need a little help from the Guv you know where we sit, where I sit. I'd be happy to help you wherever you need my help. It is our loss. It is the county's loss that Roosevelt Bradley has been taken from his job." Calvin Godfrey
We Believe Local Journalism is Critical to the Life of a City
Engaging with our readers is essential to Miami New Times's mission. Make a financial contribution or sign up for a newsletter, and help us keep telling Miami's stories with no paywalls.
Support Our Journalism
The Crazy Eighties
Filed Under: Flotsam
If you haven't been to Jimbo's Place yet, odds are you haven't lived in Miami for very long. The first visit to this "shrimp shack" is always the most memorable driving up the verdant stretch of Virginia Key, it looks like nothing is there except for the water treatment plant. Look for a series of rundown shacks. There you are. All of the buildings are in some state of disrepair, and you're likely to encounter trash barrels overflowing with refuse. Chickens are in abundance, as are stray cats a friendly one-eyed scrapper will gladly eat whatever leftovers you let fall to the ground. On Sunday Jimbo himself will celebrate his 80th birthday, and there will be no shortage of brew or local flavor.
Jimbo's son, Bubba Luznar, will just be happy if everything goes smoothly. "Well, I'm just trying to get through it all," he admits, a note of deep weariness in his rumbling voice. Besides corralling the "keg truck," live bands, and the barbecue arrangements, Bubba's been trying to keep the operation afloat and safe from developers. For the past four years, Jimbo has taken a step back from the usual operations. But rumors of his imminent demise are wildly exaggerated. "You know, Dad's doing very well. He's still coming down on weekends and socializing," Bubba says. "He doesn't do the day-to-day stuff anymore; that's all up to me."
At the big birthday bash, you might have to seek out Jimbo if you want to hand-deliver your birthday card he's still the friendliest man on earth, but he tends to hang out with his regulars on wild and crazy days like this. At this early juncture, there's no telling how many musicians will turn up. One grizzled regular put an estimate at five live bands; Bubba's taking a wait-and-see approach. There will be free food, but it's always wise to bring your own. And if you see Bubba, offer the dude a beer and do your part to make sure the festivities run smoothly.
Patrice Elizabeth Grell Yursik