Elita Loresca stars in Miami's End of Hurricane Season Parade and Festival

City of Miami announces first annual End of Hurricane Season Parade

Today, in a ceremony at Miami City hall, mayor Manny Diaz presented Elita Loresca, the Storm Goddess, and Sir Manny Mojito and the Knights of the Mesa Redonda with a proclamation designating December 3rd as the first annual "End of Hurricane Season Parade." Ms. Loresca, former weatherperson at WSVN-Fox in Miami, will be the parade's first Queen. Sir Manny Mojito, who claims to be the King of Little H, will be the King of the parade and his Knights of the Mesa Redonda will act as the Queen's court.

"If it hadn't been for Sir Manny and his Knights of the Mesa Redonda, we're sure Miami wouldn't have been spared from a major hurricane or two this season," Manny the Mayor said. "Because of their constant vigil at the altar of the Storm Goddess, praying night and day while on their knees in chainmail, it's the least we can do for such a great group of guys."

"So why did you invite Ms. Loresca?" a New Times reporter asked.

"I can think of two reasons," the mayor replied with an unsure laugh.

"Yeah?"

The mayor motioned with his eyes toward Ms. Loresca's impossibly large and perfect breasts. So did King Manny.

The reporter shook his head sadly. "But didn't she threaten to destroy this city if Sir Manny and his knights didn't free her from her contract with Channel 7?"

The two Mannies paused and looked at each other before turning to Ms. Loresca. She looked up and smiled sweetly at them before cupping her impossibly large and perfect breasts.

They-- the two Mannies, not the Magnificent Magical Mammararies-- turned to the reporter. "Yeah, so?" they replied in unison.

"She's a fooking goddess!" Sir Belvedere of Plymouth, yelled. "She can do anything she fooking wants!"

The reporter looked away with a roll of his eyes. "Okay. Relax. Sorry I asked."

Unfortunately, Sir Belvedere saw the roll of the reporter's eyes. He pushed aside Ms. Loresca and the mayor and jumped off the podium with his broadsword drawn. The reporter, bloodied from an earlier encounter covering a similar story, turned and ran for his life.

"C'mere, you fooking mincing coward and take it like a man!" Sir Belvedere screamed.

The reporter paused for a moment and bent over. "Oh, I hope so," he said.

"Die Sodomite! Die!"

The crowd standing before the podium scattered as Sir Belvedere charged through waving his great broadsword to and fro but he was no match for the swift reporter who escaped with his life.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Diaz yelled over the din below him. "The Parade will hopefully follow every hurricane season on the first Monday in December. Besides having floats and marching bands, we'll also have floats and marching bands from New Orleans and other cities spared the Goddess of the Storm's wrath. Won't that be fun?"

No one was listening. But many were screaming and running.

"I mean, since we no longer have an Orange Bowl parade, what could be better? Or more meaningful?"

Diaz turned to Ms. Loresca. She was flashing her impossibly large and perfect breasts at Sir Manny. Transfixed, he could only stare and drool. It wasn't pretty. Diaz began to wonder if the parade was such a good idea after all.

Sir Manny Mojito and the Knights of the Mesa Redonda become depressed when they hear tropical depression Noel is headed their way

"Tropical depression Noel?" Sir Manny Mojito, King of Little H, asked in disbelief.

"It's coming our way," Sir Belvedere of Plymouth replied.

"But we've been worshipping non-stop before the Elita Loresca Storm Goddess altar since June to keep hurricanes away."

"We are not worthy."

"No wonder she skipped town."

"Talk about rubbing our un-worthiness in our own faces. She's even given it a proper British name!"

"Boy, boys," Verticus Erectvs interrupted, "it's not your fault. Your constant vigil in front of the Elita Loresca Storm Goddess altar kept us hurricane-free all these months. If anyone's to blame it's that little tart you built this altar to."

"Blasphemer!" Sir Percival screamed. Sir Belvedere had to restrain him lest he impale Verticvs with his broadsword.

Bobby Bermudez jumped in. "Verticvs is right. Elita Loresca abandoned you, you never gave up on her. Talk about old school chivalry, you, Knights of the Mesa Redonda, should be holding your heads high!"

"Must...keep...praying," Sir Belvedere mumbled as if in a trance.

And, as if well-trained monks, they turned in unison, knelt on the floor, and began to chant and pray some more. No one could persuade them to take a break from the five month long self-imposed mission. Nor would anyone try to convince them that Elita Loresca was not worthy-- especially when the weary and short tempered knights were carrying their long and very sharp broadswords.

UpDate (10/29): Pray boys, pray! It's now a tropical storm!

UpDate (10/30): Dammit! What the hell's going on over there in front of that cheezy altar? Noel's a killer on the loose and it's coming our way!

"Can...pray...no...more," one of the Knights of the Mesa Redonda moaned.

UpDate (10/31): Boys! Boys, don't give up! It seems to be working! Your unselfish devotion to the Goddess of the Storm is turning Noel away from Florida! So stop flailing yourselves with your chainmail, because you are worthy! It looks like you may have saved all of Florida!

UpDate (11/1): Success! The boys were able to shift Noel's course away from Florida! A thankful people showers them with valuable gifts and suggests a parade is in order following the end of hurricane season.

UpDate (11/2): Noel, far out to sea, has been elevated to a "killer hurricane" with a death toll in its wake of over 116 people.

More Visions from Sir Manny Mojito: the iPhone

Sir Manny Mojito, King of Little H, is seeing visions again. A few weeks ago, it was Elita Loresca's floating talking tatas. Today, it's the iPhone. He saw it in jail with the Knights of the Mesa Redonda. Paris, of course, is long gone and expected to make millions on her little stint in the hoosegow, but King Manny and the boys aren't as fortunate as her. Lacking looks and money not to mention their aversion to bathing has not helped their cause. Still, the good but silly king wants an iPhone.

We can't blame him. Although we're not into gadgets, this little device has caught our collective eyes. It's like the future has arrived. Well, at least not until 6pm today, the official time of the iPhone's release. Word has it people from all over the world are flying to the east coast to be the first to get one. Too much. In any event, the $500-$600 price tag plus the AT&T monthly fee estimated to be around $100 is hard to justify. During a live interview on CNN today, someone actually tried to steal one from the Newsweek tech writer who was being interviewed outside the Apple store in Manhattan. The on-camera scuffle was pretty cool. Just like the iPhone.

The Elita Loresca Quest Epilogue

Unable to post bond, Sir Manny Mojito, the King of Little H, and his Knights of the Mesa Redonda remain in jail. Whether or not they were able to save Miami from future hurricanes remains to be seen. But at least they tried which is more than can be said for most people. Until science and technology can provide the assuring comfort of myth and superstition, keep praying to MVB's Elita Loresca Hurricane Protection Altar just in case their noble effort was all in vain. Finally, in order to avoid heartache, lawsuits, and jail time, be prudent with the visions you choose to chase.

The Elita Loresca Quest Part 6

As you can see from the screenshot above, things did not go well for Sir Manny Mojito, King of Little H. Upon waking from his dream which he took as a bad omen, that the Goddess of the Storm was not happy with his performance, he successfully beseeched his Knights of the Mesa Redonda to follow him one more time to Castle Fox, Temple of the Storm Goddess. This time they approached the aging edifice from the rear via the moat under the cover of darkness. Slipping through an unguarded door used by staff to go outside to smoke, the King of Little H was able to confront the Storm Goddess while on the air. Unfortunately, management had put her under a police watch to protect her from people like King Manny and the Knights of the Mesa Redonda. Before the good but wacky king could utter two words police sprung from the shadows off camera and tackled him to the ground. Ms. Loresca was unhurt in the scuffle that followed, the Swarovski Crystal bra was returned to Moishe and his wife, and King Manny and the Knights of the Mesa Redonda, thanks to the world's insatiable need to be entertained, extended their 15-minutes of fame* by a good five minutes as they were led off to jail.

(To Be Continued)

*Since the debut of YouTube and the ability of the net to save something forever, perhaps Andy Warhol's famous assertion about our allotted time in the limelight should be updated and extended.

The Elita Loresca Quest Part 5

Thanks to YouTube, by the time King Manny and the Knights of the Mesa Redonda went to bed that night, they had become worldwide objects of scorn and ridicule. Late night talk shows had a field day depicting them as major wussies. It was impossible for the king and his knights not to flip channels and see themselves as they really were: silly men in chainmail obsessed with big breasts who still chased after windmills. So it is understandable how King Manny Mojito fell into a fitful and disturbing sleep where he dreamed Elita Loresca's most perfect and amazing breasts had become twin raging hurricanes.

The Elita Loresca Quest Part 4

"Oh, my God."

Verticvs knew this wasn't a good sign. King Manny Mojito and the Knights of the Mesa Redonda were on TV. WSVN-Channel 7, the local Miami Fox affiliate, was airing something about them on the six o'clock news. King Manny was holding up the Swarovski crystal bra. Verticvs turned up the sound.

"We demand entry to present Elita Loresca this bra," King Manny said in his unique British/Cuban accent, "so that we may rescue her, save Miami from hurricanes, and fulfill our quest."

"The group of men, all dressed like medieval knights," Craig Stevens' voice over explained, "is led by someone who calls himself, Sir Manny Mojito, the King of Little H. At first our front gate security guard thought it was some sort of stunt until the men drew their swords and threatened him."

The station cut to the security guard Manuel Molina.

"That's when I pulled out my Thunder Five and asked them if they would like to reconsider. Which they did with the king guy yelling at everyone to 'Run away! Run away!' and complaining about it not being fair. What a bunch of losers."

The station cut back to Craig Stevens and Lynn Martinez in the studio. Martinez cheered him on. "Way to go, Manuel!"

"We tried to get a statement from Elita," Stevens said, "but she was unavailable. Knowing Elita, she's probably already in bed. That 5am call time for our morning news program is a killer."

"Trust me, Craig," Martinez said, "I think I can speak for Elita when I tell you she wouldn't wear anything that tacky. In fact, the last thing we need is our weather girl running around town in a rhinestone bra. I mean, we already have enough larger than life distractions what with Shaq and Hulk Hogan living here."

"Yeah, you're right, Lynn. And it could be dangerous. Can you imagine Elita wearing that bra outside on a sunny day when she's tooling about town with the top down?"

"Holy traffic accident, Craig!"

"Actually, Elita probably shouldn't drive anywhere with the top down. Know what I mean?"

"That's for sure. Anyway, police have asked that if you see these men to give them a call. Seems that tacky bra was stolen from a downtown jewelry store and might actually be worth something."

The station cut to very bad video footage from the jewelry store surveillance camera. It showed King Manny and the Knights of the Mesa Redonda breaking the glass display case with their broadswords and running away with the Swarovski bra as Martinez continued to speak over the grainy black and white image. "Judging by the way they're dressed, it shouldn't be too difficult."

"Oy vey," Verticvs added before turning off the TV.

The Elita Loresca Quest Part 3

There beneath the locked jeweler's display case in the Seybold building in downtown Miami lay the fabled crystal bra!

"How much?" Sir Manny asked as the Knights of the Mesa Redonda, all eager to see the object of their quest, bunched up behind the King of Little H and pushed him against the display case.

Moishe, the jeweler, shrugged. "It's not cheap. It's a one of a kind. That isn't your everyday cut glass, you know."

"Yes, I know. Swarovski crystals and all that. All the way from Austria. How much? Stop shovin'!"

Moishe paused and looked at the motley crew. He admired the delicate work of the chainmail and noted the semi-precious stones embedded in the hilts of their swords and, of course, he wondered if King Manny's crown was solid gold. He hoped they might be as rich as they were insane. "Fifty thousand dollars," he said with an apologetic shrug.

"Fifty thousand dollars?" King Manny and the Knights of the Mesa Redonda cried.

"Hey, what can I tell you, it's a one of a kind." Moishe paused and looked around before motioning King Manny to come closer. "Famous bosoms have filled it," he whispered with a knowing nod of his head.

"Famous bosoms?" Manny and the Knights responded loudly.

Moishe pushed away and looked around. Some woman was glaring at him from a perch above the display cases. He smiled weakly up at her and offered a jaundiced wave of his hand. "Smile to the wife," he whispered through clenched teeth, "and maybe I can work out a deal."

King Manny and the Knights of the Mesa Redonda smiled and waved at the woman but she just sadly shook her head and turned away.

Moishe was still looking at his wife when he whispered, "Elizabeth Taylor once wore it."

"Elizabeth Taylor?" they all shouted once again. The boys are big fans of their fellow Brit.

Moishe froze. His wife's eyes had narrowed into little slits. He gave her one of those "please forgive me, honey, for being such a goddamn fool" kinda smiles. She turned away in a huff. Moishe turned back to the Men of the Mesa Redonda. "Look, gentlemen," he whispered, "a whole bunch of famous tits have occupied this bra. It comes with a pedigree. Now if you can't afford it, perhaps you might be interested in something else. Perhaps a...small tiara?"

"A small tiara?" one of the knights exclaimed. "Does he look like he needs a fooking small tiara?"

"What's going on here, Moishe?"

The men jumped. They hadn't seen the wife coming.

"Darling," Moishe gushed, "these men wanted to buy the Swarovski bra."

"Wanted'?" she said intimidatingly. "Can't you afford it? What kind of king are you anyway?"

"I'm a king on a budget."

"Then try K-Mart."

As she turned away, Moise grabbed her arm. "Dear, these men are on an important quest. Without the bra, hurricanes will come and Elita Loresca the Storm Goddess--"

"'Elita Loresca'? I should have known. You men are all alike. It's pathetic. Are you idiots trying to buy this bra for her?"

"Yes," King Manny said, "in order to save Miami from hurricanes and to free a young and innocent maid who--"

"Boys," Moishe's wife said, "this bra isn't big enough for Ms. Loresca's love bubbles. You need the No. 9."

"The 'No. 9'?" King Manny asked.

"The No. 9. It's the first bra for the surgically endowed. You can get it at Nordstrom."

"Are you implying the Storm Goddess' gongas aren't genuine?"

"They're too round. It's the first sign someone's been foolin' around with Mother Nature."

"Heresy!" one of the knights shouted. "Heresy I say!"

"You are an evil wench and not worthy of protecting the bra!" another knight screamed and before anyone could say 'stop,' a broadsword smashed through the glass display case and a hand protected by a steel guantlet snatched the fabled crystal bra. Alarms rang, the Moishes screamed, and King Manny yelled "Run away! Run away!" and the Knights of the Mesa Redonda and their king who lives for the quest ran out of the building scattering passerbys with raised swords, flapping cloaks, and shouts about freedom and hurricanes.

(To Be Continued)

The Elita Loresca Quest Part 2

"I hate to tell you this, King Manny," Verticvs whispered, "but this ain't no map to the Temple of the Storm Goddess."

"But it came from her very own disembodied bosom."

The Knights of the Mesa Rendonda were milling about the cramped MVB office, downing mojitos and backing into things with their broad swords. Verticvs didn't want them to overhear what he was about to say to King Manny.

"Dude," Verticvs whispered, "maybe you and the boys ought to cut back on the mojitos. I mean, c'mon, a disembodied, floating, talking matched set?"

"It's true! We all saw it."

"I'm sure you did, especially after all that drinking you guys did last night."

"Then how do you explain my map?"

"I think someone's pulling your chainmail. This is a picture of Channel 7 where Elita Loresca works."

Sir Manny paused. "Why does a TV station need a moat?"

"It's Biscayne freaking Bay, for crisesakes. And that's the 79th Street Causeway running in front of it."

Sir Manny paused some more. "So, I guess those aren't watchtowers?"

Verticvs nodded.

"And there's no drawbridge? Or guards?"

"Guards, yeah, but no drawbridge."

Verticvs could see the leader of men who lived for quests was crestfallen. "But that should make it easier for you, right?"

Sir Manny was lost in thought. "I'm sorry?"

"I mean you won't need to storm the castle, so to speak. You can go right up to her and hand her the," Verticvs paused to bracket the next words in quotation marks with his fingers, "'fabled crystal bra'. Right? No need for any bloodshed, that's always a good thing."

"Do you think they'll let me hand it to her?"

"I don't see why not. As long as you and the boys check your swords and weapons at the door. Hell, knowing Channel 7, they'll probably even put you on TV."

"Really?"

"You can count on it."

"So where can I find the fabled crystal bra?"

"The one the talking tatties told you I once held in my very own hands?

"Exactly."

"Jeese-Louise, that was a while back. It was for a story I was doing for a magazine. I never met the guy who owned it. He was a jeweler in the downtown Miami diamond district. But it shouldn't be hard to find. Everybody knows everybody down there. And King Manny, those sparkly things on top of the bra, the ones the talking tatas couldn't pronounce, they're called Swarovski crystal. It's expensive imported Austrian cut glass."

"Cut glass?" Manny Mojito, King of Little H, seemed disappointed.

"Yeah, but it's real expensive. Chicks dig it for some reason."

"Elita Loresca is no chick," he reminded Verticvs. "She's a goddess."

"Well, she's something else, that's for sure."

"She's a goddess," Sir Manny repeated in a louder voice, "and I'm on a quest for her."

"And so are we!"

Verticvs looked around and saw the Knights of the Mesa Redonda holding their mojitos and swords high in the air toward Sir Manny. Sir Manny drew his own sword and touched the sword tips.

"Before we set forth," he said with deep import, "we must first worship the goddess."

They turned to the makeshift Elita Loresca Hurricane Protection Altar in the office, kneeled before it, flipped on the audio omming device, and joined it in a mixture of communal bliss and intoxication. Verticvs didn't know whether to be alarmed or impressed.

(To Be Continued)

Elita Loresca the Storm Goddess Issues a Quest through her Floating, Talking Tatas

Last night began like any Monday night for Sir Manny and his Knights of the Mesa Redonda. They were drinking mojitos beneath the MacArthur Causeway bridge and casting their nets for shrimp when they saw the vision. At first the men thought it was the full moon but it kept growing larger and larger and within moments was floating toward them across Biscayne Bay.

"It's Glinda!" someone shouted.

Sir Manny and the boys applauded and jumped up and down in anticipation like silly school girls, rattling their chainmail against their armor to such an extent that it sounded like thunder rolling across the water. They liked Glinda. She was pretty. And had a sweet voice. And a girlish laugh. They missed that kind of woman in Miami; in these modern times. They last saw her in Oz where she was known as the "Good Witch of the North" and traveled in a glowing globe. But, as the apparition grew nigh, they shuddered and turned away, hiding their eyes from what they could all see was clearly not the wholesome Glinda. Instead, hovering before their eyes, tempting their manhood with lascivious thoughts, was the impossibly large and perfect breasts of the Storm Goddess, Elita Loresca!

"Run away!" Sir Manny shouted. "Run away!"

"Halt!"

And they did for it isn't every day you hear tits talk.

They turned slowly, in unison, fearful for what they may find, fearful they may fail one more temptation.

"I am the amazingly large and perfect breasts of the Storm Goddess, Elita Loresca! Bow down before me!"

They fell to the ground and shook in their armor, rattling against the rocks beneath the bridge with the intensity of a Buddy Rich drum roll.

"Mercy, oh great Magumbos!" Sir Manny beseeched. "We are but mortal men and cannot resist such temptation!"

"Forget about my magnificent mammararies," the boobs boasted over the roar of a semi passing overhead. "Fools that you be, focus on the message!"

"The cleavage?" Sir Manny asked with trembling voice.

"The message, you dumbkoff!"

"The message?" Sir Manny asked as he raised his head oh so carefully to look at the remarkable rack.

"Rise, Sir Manny, King of Little H. Only you are worthy to gaze upon my super sweater swellers up close and personal."

"Me?"

"Yes, you! Only you were brave enough to take a peek at my pneumatic knockers."

Sir Manny rose unsteadily to his feet. He had a silly grin on his face, his eyebrows were jumping.

"Step closer!"

Sir Manny, perhaps because of the mojitos, maybe because of the many rocks scattered willy-nilly under the bridge, tripped and stumbled into the fabulous funobagos.

"Uh ma gah!"

His muffled scream rose from between the double-d's but he couldn't free himself. It was as if someone or some thing was squishing the dangerous Dagmars against both sides of his face.

"I can no breathe!" he gasped, sounding a lot like Scotty from Star Trek.

"Shut up and listen!" the bombastic Berthas boomed. "Elita Loresca is in danger! She is being held against her will in her own temple by...Management!"

"No, not management!" one of the knights shouted.

"Yes, Management!" the congas continued. "The only way they will let her go is if she returns the fabled crystal bra!"

"Da 'fabled crystal bwa'?" Sir Manny asked from the muffled depths of the bra's décolletage.

"The fabled crystal bra."

"But how can she do that if they won't let her leave her temple?" one of the knights asked.

"That's where you come in," the sisters intoned darkly. "Elita is threatening Miami with a hurricane unless they let her out of her contract and until they do, she's not doing anybody any favors. So, if you want to save Miami from a hurricane and free Elita from her prison, you must undertake a quest for the Goddess of the Storm!"

"Oh, no," one of the knights of the Mesa Redonda moaned from his position on the ground. "Not another fooking quest?"

"I HEARD THAT!"

The tatas were in such a titter, whipping Sir Manny's head back and forth as if it were already in a hurricane, that the crown he always wore even when he slept, was knocked asunder. It arced across the night sky and fell onto the rocky pavement with the sound only a cheap gold plated ring can make.

"Never question the kazoos nor doubt the truth the titties speak!"

"Neva! Neva!" Sir Manny managed to muffle through the whiplashing from the wahwahs. "Wha is it you wan?"

The shaking shebas suddenly stopped and let go of Sir Manny's head. Dizzy, he unintentionally grabbed the Garbos to keep from falling and...fell in love.

Although he couldn't see them just yet because he was having a hard time focusing, he knew he had his hands on something special and a silly smile began to grow across his blind man's face as he slowly settled to his knees. His eyes, wider than an astronaut on a space shuttle launch, were averted, lost in carnal pleasure and fantasy. His lips began to tremble as he drooled and made funny, less than kingly sounds, sounds perhaps a pimply faced, hormonally out of control teenage boy might make upon touching his first breast. When his eyesight and his equilibrium returned, the first thing he saw were the humongous ho-hahs in his hands and from that point on he was officially gaga over the gagas.

"Sponge cakes of love," he said with an insipid smile as his eyeballs rolled upward beneath his eyelids. He squeezed the Chiquitas one more time and when they grew larger in his hands, he fell deeper under their spell. "Your wish is my command," he struggled to say as he fought to focus on the fabulous female frontal flesh fins.

Thelma and Louise took turns talking. "Your quest..." Thelma said into his left hand, pausing for Louise to finish the sentence in his right, "is to bring back the bra."

Sir Manny's eyes started to flutter. "The...The bra?"

"The bra," the girls responded through both hands in stereophonic harmony, "the bra Verticus once held in his own hands."

"Verticus?" Hearing his name brought a picture of the publisher up from memory and that image shook him out of his Rabelaisian reverie.

"The bejeweled bra made from Swarvosky...Swakosky...Swarviski..." The pink nosed puppies all cute and cuddly were having a hard time pronouncing the word and, as they struggled to say it, the motion they made beneath the brassiere tickled Sir Manny's palms and he started to laugh.

"DO YOU THINK SOMETHING'S FUNNY?"

Sir Manny yanked his hands away and looked at his palms. They were bleeding from two small holes, holes that could only have been made from the friction caused by...spinning drill bits!

"WELL DO YA, BUB?"

Sir Manny looked at the Storm Goddess' bra. He could see the nipples spinning angrily behind it. He gulped and tried to smile.

"No mam--mar--mamararies--MAM!," he managed to say.

"GOOD!" both yayas yelled. "Now go find Verticus. He once held the bejeweled bra right here beneath this bridge. Get it and bring it to the Temple of the Storm Goddess."

"Where's that?"

"Here." The magical mambos motioned for Sir Manny to come closer. "Don't be afraid. We won't bite." They started laughing and bouncing up and down out of sync, following the rhythms of their own personalities. "Take the map."

Before he could say, "What map?" a piece of folded paper inched forward out from beneath Thelma's side of the bra.

"TAKE IT!" Thelma snapped.

Sir Manny jumped and before he knew it, had his hand on the map and was ready to pull it away when the once gentle sweater puppies turned on him and snipped at his hand. Sir Manny screamed and fell back onto the rocky road beneath the bridge and looked up at the barking boodoos.

"WOOF! WOOF!" the bra buddies barked and then growled and then laughed so hard they almost popped out of their Vickies, nearly exposing their secrets to the world.

And then, without so much as a good-bye, the jones inducing jugs of pain and pleasure disappeared like a spent balloon zig-zagging back and forth across the night sky before vanishing on an echoing laugh.

Sir Manny could feel his heart racing beneath his chainmail and thought maybe he had just awakened from a dream. When he raised his hand to his heart and saw the map in his hand he knew he hadn't been dreaming and that he wasn't in Kansas anymore or even in Oz because no one has ever spoken to Totos (except for maybe Dorothy) and Totos have never spoken back.

"Alas," he said with a sigh, "I'm back in Miami on another quest where Manchesters mouth off and a goddess wants a bra."

(To Be Continued)

Miami is Such a Silly Place Chronicles: Firings, Resignations, & Tabloids, Oh, My!

The Miami Herald, the city's only daily newspaper, is undergoing a cultural and ethics war from within. It officially began some weeks ago when Publisher Jesus Diaz Jr fired a handful of sister publication El Nuevo Herald writers for a breach of ethics by accepting payment for speaking and writing for Radio Marti, a Fed sponsored "propagaganda" tool aimed at broadcasting news and entertainment to Cubans (in Cuba). This, of course, opened up the floodgates for the easily offended local Cuban radio stations to lambaste Diaz for his decision. Within days nearly 2,000 Herald subscriptions were canceled. Yikes! That hurts because the paper is continuing to lose readership and advertising revenue at a time when its new owner, the McClatchy Co., is trying to resuscitate it. This week, before Diaz quit, he reinstated the El Nuevo journalists when it was discovered that some bigwigs at the Herald were aware of their work with Radio Marti. New, "clearer" rules are being written up as you read this to prevent such misunderstandings in the future.

Regarding Diaz's resignation, officially, it's because he has high standards. Unofficially, it's probably because he 1) Offended the biggest ethnic population in Miami, 2) Butted heads with prized columnist Carl Hiaasen and lost (Diaz didn't want to run a Hiaasen column he thought might stir up the population even more and Hiaasen called McClatchy corporate in California threatening to quit) and, 3) Made the paper lose money.

Today the paper reveals that many in the "English-language newsroom" (The Miami Herald) are upset because they think the rules were bent to allow the El Nuevo Herald journalists to return. Many at El Nuevo Herald are unhappy because their colleagues were "fired in the first place and their reputations demeaned."

Oh, oh, we can hear the lawyers beating down the doors at McClatchy to sue them for just that: defamation of character. We're sure the new owners of the Herald didn't have a clue about what they were getting themselves into. Now, instead of hoping to make the paper a moneymaker, they will probably face a multi-million dollar lawsuit.

But wait, it gets worse. El Nuevo Herald reporter Rui Ferreira is quoted as telling Diaz's replacement, David Landsberg, that "We are at war between the two newsrooms."

And, in a Letter to the Editor in today's Herald, Ruben Soto "does not accept that a non-Hispanic is now heading both editions...Even though publisher David Landsberg grew up in Miami, this does not make him an expert on Cuban-American or Hispanic issues. You have to have the heart and feel what it's like to be a Hispanic in Miami in order to make the newspaper successful...This warrants another protest from the local Hispanic community. The Miami Herald's new owners don't understand our unique culture."

Soto is right about that. McClatchy didn't know what they were buying in to. We're sure the easily offended are lining up now and preparing to march up and down Calle Ocho in protest.

Regarding the new publisher David Landsberg. The guy was born in Baptist Hospital, went to Coral Gables High, and graduated from the University of Florida with a degree in business administration and started working for the paper immediately. He rose in the ranks and became chief financial officer from 1996-1999 and vice president of advertising. Then-publisher Alberto Ibarguen says, " That was a department in disarray. It had like five vice presidents in seven years. He brought it around by doing basic things. It just wasn't rocket science."

What we love is the follow-up sentence in the story: Landsberg learned why ads were valuable...

It's funnier than you think. Nearly twenty years ago before publishing "The Rodney Dangerfield of Blogs," Verticus Erectus ran an advertising agency that placed movie ads for major studios. At one time, the studios were running full page Friday opening day ads which easily cost more than $25,000.00 back then. And then the Herald took a poll. They asked their readers how they liked their Friday entertainment section. According to the paper, they learned that their loyal readers wanted a tabloid. So, somewhere in the late 80's or early 90's (Verticus can't remember what decade it happened since he has a hard enough time remembering where he put his keys), the paper switched to a Friday tabloid. In so doing, they basically shot themselves in the financial foot. Instead of getting full page ads that were as big as 125", they were now getting full page ads that were only 65" at best. But, and this is a big but, the studios placed ads based on a "percentage of a page" based on the size of its readership. So, instead of getting say, a half page ad which would have been around 65", they were now getting 31.5" ads. Advertising placement dropped drastically. Mr. Erectus went to the paper and complained that the policy was hurting his profit margins. They didn't care because he was told the paper "isn't advertising driven." Editorial and what its readers want is more important. Mr. Erectus estimates that since then, from just one major movie studio alone, the paper has lost millions of dollars in an effort to keep its dwindling readers happy. He has also always wondered, if a Friday entertainment tabloid kept its readers happy, why not extend that happiness throughout the week and make the whole paper a tabloid? Who knows, maybe McClatchy is working on just that.

Knights who say "Si!"

In "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," King Arthur is quoted as saying "Camelot is such a silly place."

So is Miami.

It is a rare occasion when MVB gets comments and when it does, we try not to embarrass our brave Internet travelers and ourselves with too much fawning and genuflecting when they grace our blog with their opinions. However, when one of you says we're not funny, that's where we draw the line. Recently, "Anonymous" said we were not funny the moment he read the word "Si" in an interview MVB had with Oscar Rivero, a Miami developer busted for ripping off the poor ("Miami Public Housing: Country Club for the Homeless"). In fact, he went further by adding "it's clear that there is an anti-Hispanic undercurrent to your joke."

Really? Oscar Rivero is Cuban for crisesakes. If he was Italian, we can guarantee there would have been a "Fagidabouit!" in it somewhere. All we can say to Anonymous (if that's his real name) and the rest of the easily offended, please don't go to the Dade County School Board and try to have us banned from computers in the classroom because we can promise you the ACLU will be all over your ass before you---

We're sorry. We got carried away. Please forgive us, sit back, kick your shoes off, have a mojito (our choice of drink here at MVB), and try to enjoy the inspired little take we call "Manny Mojito and the Quest for a Sense of Humor." It picks up with Sir Manny, King of Little Havana, and his band of Knights of the Mesa Redonda as they are stopped in their quest for a sense of humor by a group of very tall knights who live in the Redlands Forest. Very little is changed from the original script except for the addition of one little word.

Knights of Si: Si! Si! Si! Si! Si! Si! Si! Si!

Sir Manny: Who are you?

Knight of Si: We are the Knights who say..."Si!"

Sir Manny (horrified): No! Not the Knights who say "Si!"

Knight of Si: The same.

Other Knight of Si: Who are we?

Knight of Si: We are the keepers of the sacred words: Si, Ping, and Nee-womm!

Other Knight of Si: Nee-womm!

Sir Manny (to Sir Bedevere): Those who hear them seldom live to tell the tale!

Knight of Si: The Knights who say "Si!" demand...a sacrifice!

Sir Manny: Knights of Si, we are but simple travelers who seek the enchanter who lives beyond these woods in a mystical place called Cuba.

Knights of Si: Si! Si! Si! Si! Si! Si! Si! Si! Si! Si!

Sir Bedevere (grabbing head): No! Nooo! Aaaugh! No!

Knight of Si: We shall say "Si" to you...if you do not appease us.

Sir Manny: Well, what is it that you want?

Knight of Si: We want
(pregnant pause)
A SHRUBBERY!

(minor music)

Sir Manny: A WHAT?

Knights of Si: Si! Si! Si! Si! Si! Si! Si! Si! Si! Si!

Sir Manny: No! No! Please, please, no more! We will find you a shrubbery.

Knight of Si: You must return here with a shrubbery...or else you will never pass through this wood...alive.

Sir Manny: Oh, Knights of Si, you are just and fair, and we will return with a shrubbery.

Knight of Si: One that looks nice.

Sir Manny: Of course!

Knight of Si: And not too expensive.

Sir Manny: Yes!

Knight of Si: And with a sense of humor.

Sir Manny: What?

Knights of Si: Si! Si! Si! Si! Si! Si! Si! Si! Si!

Sir Manny (tears are rolling out of his eyes as he grabs his crown): Please stop!

Knight of Si: Noowwww...GO!

Unlike the original script, Sir Manny and his band of Knights of the Mesa Redonda were never heard from again. Rumor has it they, like Arthur who was unsuccessful in his quest for the Holy Grail, were never able to find a sense of humor.