Urban Beach Week Destroys South Beach … AgainLiving in my elitist Hollywood bubble, I've lost touch with the way real Americans think. In my jasmine-scented Emerald City, where it rains glitter, people commute to work on freeways paved with rainbows, and kids snack on Pixie Sticks filled with the granulated horns of free-range unicorns who died a natural death -- at home, after a long and fulfilling life, surrounded by loved ones -- and which fight tooth decay and contain only One Awesome Calorie, when a person thinks, "I'm going to be called a racist for this one," they often conclude that this, by itself, is a good enough reason to stop talking and go watch that West Wing marathon on Bravo.
Well, I’m going to be called a racist for this one, but here it goes:
What the heck is up with the hip hop crowd trashing South Beach year after year on Memorial Day? Is this how your crew celebrates the hard-won freedoms our nation’s heroes gave their lives for—by annually ransacking South Florida and shooting at cops?Maybe they're celebrating the slightly different brand of freedom we gave the Iraqis.
The vast majority of people who give a damn about Dade County and our gorgeous beaches hate Urban Beach Week. Yep, I said it. They hate it … especially those who live in the condos and mansions along South Beach.
If such a vision does not cause your heart to break, then your heart must also be made from the finest white Makrana marble, imported at great expense, in which case I compliment you on your elegant taste, and advise you to stay indoors until the Negroes leave town.
Why do they detest UBW? Well, it’s because of things like the insane 24-hour noise, the tons of trash on the streets and beaches, the increase in security that is reminiscent of Fallujah in 2004, and the radical spike in crime and arrests (including the ubiquitous vandalism of cars and homes).According to the Miami Herald's piece on the event, "[A]rrests have decreased steadily over the past few years during Urban Beach Week in South Beach." It notes that "for all the complaints about the ills of Urban Beach Week, it is not an unparalleled event, nor does it present unique municipal challenges never heard of before," and describes how "Daytona Beach, where MTV spring break events in the 1980s and 1990s earned the city of 60,000 an unwanted reputation as a rowdy party destination. Adding to the city’s undesired attention were the high-profile murders of two college students in separate incidents years apart."
Not to mention the woes of Ft. Lauderdale, which has been coping since 1960 with a yearly influx of privileged young white men with names like "Ryder" and "Dill," who are looking to consume an immoderate number of Tiki drinks and get fresh with Yvette Mimieux.
This past weekend the Urban Beach people hit their nadir: They turned South Beach, America’s Riviera, into a war zone. Collins Avenue on Memorial Day was indeed memorable but in a tawdry, satanic sense as the Urban Beach Weekers made our Cosmopolitan playground look more like Cairo, complete with attempted cop killing.A shooting is always shocking, especially in a place like Miami, which has never known violence. (I vaguely remember a show called Miami Vice, but I'm pretty sure that was a wacky sitcom set in a hardware store).
Anyway, Doug, you were saying? Tawdry Black people are spoiling your Cosmopolitan playground and keeping Bebe Rebozo up at night with their phat beats?
Yes, during this year’s festivities the Urban Beach Weekers trashed the historic Art Deco streets, screamed, yelled and blasted music 24/7Screaming, yelling, loud music...As anyone who's attended Spring Break in South Florida can tell you, these are forms of celebration unique to the modern Inner City Satanist.
Young Anton LaVey (r) at historic Black Mass held at the Ed Sullivan Theater (1964).
Yep, one of the “tourists” tried to run over several cops with his vehicle and then shot at them, at which point a gunfight ensued between one of these winners and Miami’s cops that made anything John Yoo has produced look lame.Wow. Considering John Yoo has produced everything from legal opinions authorizing war crimes to rationalizations for crushing the testicles of a child, that's really saying something, Doug. I'm sorry I doubted you.
Call me a racist, a gringo, honkey, cracker, or whatever."...just don't call me late for lynchin'."
But at the end of the day if Edgar and Johnny Winter, the von Trapps or the lost white tribe from Whiteyville (that listens to Pat Boone and only Pat Boone) came to my city year after year and screwed it up, as much as I love my Caucasian brethren, I would do everything in my power to bounce them away from my house. As in, for good.I know when Rock 'n Roll first became popular, a lot of Baptist preachers issued thundering denunciations of this new "jungle music." But I'm pretty sure this is the first time a Southern clergyman has concluded his sermon by threatening to shoot an albino.
What does Pastor Fuzz think of this, I wonder?
Too much restraint by the police, I suppose. Perhaps we could have a National Passport program of some sort so that people would stay where they belong.
Not sure which is funnier, John Woo-Yoo or "tawdry, satanic."
and yet if you suggested that "Pastor" Giles might be a racist, he'd be offended...
Wow, this sounds like how I feel about the State Fair, which happens 4 blocks from my house for two weeks every September. And I'm SURE some of the people who attend that event are black! Thanks, Pastor Giles, for helping me connect the dots! Going out to buy a shotgun right away.
I'm enjoying a bit of the ol' schadenfreud over the idea that those excessively wealthy assholes have to deal with some urban life experiences, if only for a few days each year. Gee, I wonder if the Urban Beach Weekers might be feeling a bit of the same kind of resentment of entitlement, and thus turn up the music a bit louder.
I know I sure would.
As noted above: the State Fair.
Dougie, I live in Iowa, so fuck off.
In much the same way, Dougie's Floridian predecessors were willing to beat the shit out of white Freedom Riders, too. Because it's the principle of the thing.
My wife and I had dinner last night on Lincoln Road, right in the middle of South Beach. I didn't notice any marauding mobs, nor did I notice that it looked like Berlin in May, 1945.
As Mark Twain once said, the reports of its demise are rather exaggerated.
What a surprisingly restrained entry from Doug. I don't see a single example of alliteration this time around.
Judging by the stuff about 'Art Deco streets' and 'America's Riviera', I suppose he's decided to throw out his thesaurus and replace it with a tourism guide.
Art Deco streets are the ones with streamlined sewer grates and pastel curbs.
Djur: I too was struck by the absence of Doug's usual (nay, obligatory) alliteration, and assume this was meant to convey the SERIOUSNESS of this very SERIOUS situation. He also didn't lapse into his usual mocking Spanglish. Not sure why, but he's getting older -- perhaps a swollen prostate confines him, these days, to peeing on only one racial minority per column.
I spent a night in South Beach and vaguely remember drinking tequila out of the belly button of a ravishing Cuban girl who later stole my wallet. A lot of salsa, no rap. Must be the boys from Liberty City.
Man, that takes me back to the day. Anybody else remember what they were doing when "Fear of an Urban Beach Week" first came out?
"made our Cosmopolitan playground look more like Cairo, complete with attempted cop killing."
Weren't the cops in Cairo the ones doing the raping, torturing and murdering?
"Is this how your crew celebrates the hard-won freedoms our nation’s heroes gave their lives for?"
The U.S. marines, fighting for art deco streets since 1945.
Um, yeah. I'd comment but I'm in Cymbalta withdrawal, on a new anti-seizure med, my partner is out of town (though I did get some very lovely orchids as an apology), and G Gordon Liddy is back in my crawlspace, doing seven hours of "erection finance law" jokes a day, so, you know, fuck it all, I can't read Doug yet.
But I feel I have to draw this to your attention. Then I find myself speculating on what the hell she read as a teenager, and what she'd like to see stories about, and I conclude that "Serendipity" books might be just about right if they weren't so full of commie indoctrination like "Normal is what you are!" and then I find myself sunk into the realization that Meghan has absolutely no fucking clue what life is like for teenagers and never has had. My teenage years had elements in common with war crimes tribunal transcripts, for Chrissakes. And Marilyn Manson no more invented self-mutilation than Bill Clinton invented the blowjob. And good heavens, you mean there are gay teens out there? Still? Obviously repressive peer pressure hasn't finished them all off yet, hop to it young bullies. (Seriously, it's been a bad week here. The sarcasm has gone terminal.)
I can't speak to what goes on in Meghan's kids' heads, but I'm betting she's no closer to it than I am, let alone in the heads of kids who are abused and bullied and victimized in ways that they can only handle *because* they are kids and therefore more resilient than adults.
Seriously, the WSJ has no business printing this stuff without a large reminder at the top that this is a woman who was traumatized by her neighbors' political bumper stickers. But then, this is a paper so fucked up that we've been getting delivery of it on our unshared stair landing for two weeks now and I still can't get them to stop it because we are not in fact subscribers. Exactly, I say, so stop leaving your fucking garbage on my steps. As far as they know, goes the reply, they're not.
I'm forced to assume this is some kind of malicious vandalism. Or else Liddy has ordered it and never bothers to bring it in.
"if ...the lost white tribe from Whiteyville (that listens to Pat Boone and only Pat Boone) came to my city year after year and screwed it up, as much as I love my Caucasian brethren, I would do everything in my power to bounce them away from my house. As in, for good." So, NASCAR will end in 10 .. 9 ..?
D.Sidhe, wow. Spot-on, as usual.
God, I hate MC-G's stupid anecdotes
"...She had popped into the bookstore to pick up a welcome-home gift for her 13-year-old, who had been away. Hundreds of lurid and dramatic covers stood on the racks before her, and there was, she felt, "nothing, not a thing, that I could imagine giving my daughter. It was all vampires and suicide and self-mutilation, this dark, dark stuff." She left the store empty-handed...."
Jeebus. Unbelievable. (And anyway, this woman is getting her child a welcome-home gift after being away? Hey, when I was a kid we didn't go away. Maybe to summer camp, but this is still early June. Oh! Maybe the kid was in rehab. Or off at boarding school, which has an even richer fictional history - for example, that bright, sunny little old-fashioned novel "The Little Princess". Or even "Jane Eyre". Or most of Dickens.)
It's like she willfully refuses to think outside her fantasy of a perfect family, where it's her job to keep the home fires burning and the sounds of the apocalypse muffled, no matter what. Except she always has to tip her hand so everyone can see how excellent she is.
I'm being disorganized, I know. But I am OLD, and I grew up with "The Diary of Anne Frank", and the Cuban missile crisis, and the black-and-yellow fallout shelter placards, and polio and those weird menstrual pad harness devices (girls, once upon a time there were no adhesive panty-liners) and fucking junior high school. I wished to rain down ungodly mayhem on the mean kids, on the drunk guy next door, on anyone who made me feel small and weak.
And what I had was a well-meaning grandma who subscribed to a children's book series for me, called "The Happy Hollisters", about some Gurdon-Cox prototypes (although the Hollister family kept their offspring to the more modest number of three children - the Dick-Jane-Sally model) who did the same lame-ass "mystery" solving in every single book, over and over. (I couldn't ask to be un-gifted; that would have been rude and we weren't allowed to be rude. Rudeness leads to mayhem and apocalypsi.)
And look at how I came out: bitter, vengeful, depressed, antagonistic and churlish. Bite me, Meghan.
And look at how I came out:bitter, vengeful, depressed, antagonistic and churlish
And that's just how we like our Larkspurs around here.
Oh, thank you, Scott, I love you! Or at least I would love you if my withered, sclerotic old heart could love anything. Meanwhile, I offer more churl: why is it that at least 90% of the other blogs that blogroll you have not updated your link? Or perhaps I should add a suggestion: maybe you should add a clickable link to the old broke page. I mention this because I am house-sitting and cannot access the wifi (everybody says, 'Ooh, we're wireless, just hop on!' Except their wifi person has already entered the passwords and encryption crap for them, and made it all tidily secure, which locks me out, but luckily I have permission to use the home computer) and do not have access to my bookmarks.
Actually, I don't feel that churlish in making this observation. I offer it not as an accusation or lament, or even as a mild WTF, but more as an idle "Hmm, what's up with that".
Hey guys, for some reason, our beloved Anntichrist S. Coulter can't comment on the new blog, and she's been missing everyone, and chomping at the bit, so let me pass along her emailed comment on Pastor Doug:
Miami Beach is "America's Riviera"?!?!??!? Is the real Riviera owned by mobsters, bootleggers' descendants who've branched-out into cocaine, meth, crack, heroin and fine-art forgeries, and a buncha tightwad old fucks who look at anyone NOT of their cult as if they are THE PLAGUE if they venture into the WRONG STRIP MALL in North Beach?!?!??!!?
It's motherfucking Miami BEACH, ***NOT*** THE MEDITERRANEAN!!!!!! And there's about as much "Class" there ("class" being a word used by people who have no idea what it is to HAVE class or behave as if they understood the concept!!!) as on BOURBON STREET, or the newest Carpetbagger's Bourbon Street, aka ST. CHARLES AVENUE nowadays. Seriously. It's gotten THAT BAD. This white-trash illiterate motherfucker needs to GO FINISH HIGH SCHOOL, give up his internet ordination and just go somewhere and suck the dick of his favorite firearm. IMMEDIATELY.
Long time lurker...first time commenter!
Scott: read a little bit about the history of politics in Nice. Jacques Medecin is almost worthy of a Travis McGee novel.
Thanks for the link, Brian.
Pastor Giles lives in South Beach and I don't? Asshole.
He reminds me of those condo-buyers in 2007 who lined up outside for hours to get a hip, urban dwelling (real estate only goes up!) but then bitched to the snoozepaper about all the noise late at night and How Dare They?
Fuckin' Eh, people.
And yes, Giles, you ARE a racist. You should run for the Florida legislature because you'd fit right in.
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