Miami Circle: Giant Smiley Face

Miami archaeologist Bobby Bermudez discovered today that the world famous Miami Circle is an ancient giant "Smiley Face."

Originally uncovered in 1998 when a developer was clearing the land to erect twin condo towers, it has taken Mr. Bermudez eight long years of tedious scholarship to decode the mysterious holes in the ground at the mouth of the Miami River. "Although some experts believe the holes are a septic tank, through an arduous process that involved such disparate fields as computer mapping, Mayan studies, and channeling, I have been able to determine that the Miami Circle is a monumental ceremonial mask to the pre-Columbian Tequesta's god of mirth."

"Not very much is known about the Tequestas except that they were tall, naked, and dead before the Conquistadors ever set foot on Florida," Mr. Bermudez continued. "But it's good to know they had a sense of humor. In fact, this is the earliest known example of humankind possessing a sense of humor. Except for some erotic art found on the walls of Pompei, most artifacts depict us as a violent, blood-letting superstitious lot so, in that regard, this is one of the most important discoveries ever made, if I do say so myself."

Depending on where you live and how desperate you are for a little piece of history, digging up the past can be expensive. At that time, to appease a small but vocal minority of preservationists, "new age" wackos, members of the Mayan Huichol tribe and representatives of the "Taino people" who set up camp at the site for a 24-hour tom-tom-athon, County government wrote a check for $26.7 million dollars to the developer to stop developing. Soon after, to preserve the holes, the excavation was covered up with sand and will remain so until funding can be found to develop an educational exhibit.

Despite Mr. Bermudez's assertions, MVB suspects the Miami Circle really is nothing more than the remains of a septic tank and that the original archaeologists who discovered it came to the same conclusion after-the-fact and chose to cover it up with a couple of dump truck loads of sand to avoid any embarrassment to their careers.

UpDate (11/8/2008): AP reports the discovery of a "dinosaur dance floor" by University of Utah scientists was recently proven by paleontologists to be nothing more than a "collection of potholes caused by erosion in the sandstone." This jump to conclusions by "experts" reminds of us of the travesty that happened here.

What the "Miami Circle" Needs: A Madman in a Bulldozer

In 1998, archaeologists found a 36-foot diameter circle of holes in downtown Miami. 24 big ones plus some "minor ones." The archaeologists figured the holes were between 1,700 and 2,000 years old. It wasn't a discovery on the scale of say, finding King Tut, in fact, it was hardly on anyone's archeological meter at all because basically, no matter how you looked at it, it was nothing more than a CIRCLE OF HOLES IN THE GROUND. It wasn't the tip of a pyramid poking through the weeds holding the remains of some bejeweled, gold laden king. It was a CIRCLE OF HOLES IN THE GROUND. Initially, one expert was sure they were the remanents of a septic tank but he was soon overruled by a majority of experts who agreed that they were the remains of post holes, dug thousands of years ago to support a ceremonial hut of some sort (to some archaeologists, it's always a "ceremonial" something or other). I believe the only thing found of interest in one of the holes was a shark's tooth and a condom (circa 1949). With the exception of a some really old people, archaeologically speaking, Miami can't lay claim to anything much older than a hundred years, so the "Miami Circle" as it soon became known, was something to latch onto with pride.

Like remoras on a shark, civic leaders, quasi-Native Americans, and kids from around the world thanks to unsupervised time on the Internet attached themselves to these crude holes in the ground and made them a cause celebre with reasons ranging from "because they're sacred" to "they're cute." Before long, with the world rising against him, developer Michael Baumann caved in to the pressure and dropped his "Brickell Pointe" condo project in the proverbial hole of good intentions.

"Yeah, yeah," I can hear some proud citizen saying, "you may have the Taj Mahal, but we got a freakin' circle of really old holes in the ground."


Perhaps, in the end, something good did come out of all of this. The twin towers that got deep-sixed were unexceptional in their design for such a landmark space.Hopefully reason will return to the community someday in the near future and a world-class building will be erected on that spot that will lift our spirits with it as it rises skyward from a murky past to an exciting future full of hope. Right now, all we can pray for is that one night, a madman in a bulldozer will run rampage over the "thing" in the ground and grade it all to hell so that we can get on with our lives, to embrace the future and to put the really boring past behind us. For that man, MVB would hope to see him honored with another bronze statue flanking the noble Tequesta on the opposite side of the Brickell Bridge, commemorating the day Miami got its senses back.

The Miami Circle: What it could have been

Now that there is a strong possibility that the Miami Circle (which from this point on will be referred to as "the thing"*) might actually be a giant "Smiley Face" (see earlier entry) and the first earliest recording of man having a sense of humor, MVB would like to take this opportunity to show what could have been if county government had handled the original discovery differently. Instead of forking over nearly $27 million dollars of taxpayers money in 1999 to the developer to stop him from developing (with nothing to show for it as of this date-- the site is covered in sand to "preserve it"), a more rational approach would have required the developer to include "the thing" in the project's design. As can be seen in the picture above, "the thing" is enclosed in an air-conditioned atrium. This would allow unsuspecting tourists or people with way too much time on their hands to look down at it from the spiraling floors above and ponder the meaning of it all.


"What the *@#%?" they may well have asked. But alas, no one will ever know.

Our fear, however, is that even our suggested compromise would not be a win-win for both parties because we see, over time, that "the thing" will become nothing more than a giant ash tray and trash can for all those who see it, i.e., because of its pockmarked surface, it would have called eternally to our subconscious to throw something into it-- as the county did in 1999.

Lost Property Taxes
The irony here is that "the thing" lies within the City of Miami, one of the poorest cities in the U.S. If the developer had been allowed to build, it was estimated back then that the twin condo towers would have brought the city $1.1 million per year in property taxes which could have gone toward building public funded affordable housing.

*MVB thinks the circle is atrocious, lacking in the basics of the best archeological discoveries which tease the imagination. Too bad there isn't some sort of scale that would grade discoveries based on how they speak to the human spirit as being worthy or worthless of preservation. If it had been an ancient mosaic floor, MVB would be behind preserving it-- and incorporating it into a tax generating machine for the city of Miami.

Poor ex-Miami mayor Joe Carollo, say what you will about the man, for all of his shortcomings, he was the only one who wanted to preserve the circle and allow the developer to continue developing. His plan was to have a stone mason come in and move it so the buildings could be erected. His city, which was the poorest city in the U.S. at that time, could have used the taxes it would have brought in but he was overruled by the county commission and rival mayor Alex Pinellas. Carollo said at that time of Pinellas, "What he is proposing is the destruction of the City of Miami as an entity."

Well, the city is still standing albeit precariously on spindly-- but pretty-- legs because of condo speculators. But what will happen if the bubble bursts as predicted? Will the world see Miami and the county for what it may truly be, a provincial burb grasping for anything that falls out of a trash heap to justify its existence; a shallow, hollow city of empty high-end condos and possibly the brunt of a giant cosmic joke?

A Cabal of Miami Realtors Caught Burying Giant Statue of St. Joseph

No one really knew how bad the Miami housing market was until the arrest last night of a large number of realtors caught burying a giant statue of St. Joseph in the center of the Miami Circle, a sacred pre-Columbian site at the mouth of the Miami River. Considered to be the patron saint of real estate agents, police were surprised by the effigy's size.

"This is the biggest one we've found yet," advised a S.W.A.T squad spokesperson who wished to remain anonymous. "For years St. Joseph statues have been turning up, but never this size. Usually they're no bigger than 8-inches. This one was over 8-feet tall."

Realtors, long considered a mammon worshipping cult by many theologians, have been burying St. Joseph statues for years in order to hasten a sale. Known as the "underground real estate agent", St. Joseph is usually buried head first in the ground or in a planter on the property. Once the sale is made, it is expected that the sellers unearth the statue and put it in a prominent place in their new home-- not following through on the last part could jeopardize their future good fortune, according to the "instructions" that come with the statues.

Considering Miami has one of the largest Catholic populations in the U.S. and a large number of followers of Santeria, the Afro-Cuban religion that mixes Catholic saints with African gods, it is not surprising that, according to Phil Cates, owner of the website http://stjosephstatue.com/, Miami is the biggest market for these kind of things. Statewide he estimates he's sold 6,000 statues.

And for all the skeptics reading this, Mr. Cates says you can go to his website to read the testimonials on the statue's behalf.

"Sales," he said, "have just gone crazy."

Which may be good for him, but seeing a St. Joseph this size has many financial analysts worried. For the first time in a decade, home prices have fallen in August from sales of the previous year. A report released this week by the Florida Association of Realtors paints an alarming picture. Single family homes fell 34% and condo sales dropped 41% from the previous year.

As two police officers struggled with a realtor who was being led away in handcuffs, he was overheard shouting to anyone who would listen that, "It's not a bubble, I tell you! It's not a bubble!"

According to the Miami S.W.A.T team, most of the rogue realtors were arrested in last night's raid and that the public need not fear those that got away. "Don't worry about them coming into your yards in the middle of the night to bury their statues. They left their shovels behind and we know how to read fingerprints. We'll have them rounded up and put behind bars before you know it."

Asked what law they broke, MVB was told that they had desecrated a sacred site.

"What sacred site?" we asked.

"The Miami Circle."

"'Sacred?'" we laughed. "There's nothing sacred about that circle of holes in the ground. Hell, they only found a shark's tooth and a used condom there. Some experts think it's nothing more than an old septic tank."

"Listen, bub," we were told in no uncertain terms, "As long as our county spent $27 million for it, it's sacred."

MVB can't argue with that.

MVB's Top 25 Ideas of 2006

Although it's only been since July that MVB officially has had a public presence with the publishing of this blog, many of the ideas found here have been lobbied for years old school, i.e., via snail mail and the occasional confrontation, excuse us, meeting. We thought it might make an interesting end-of-the-year posting to gather them together in no particular order.

1. Make it our civic duty to build the tallest building in the world in Miami on the "Boulevard of Giants."
2. Carnival Miami Orange Bowl Parade: Revive the Orange Bowl Parade by bringing the best Rio Samba schools and floats to parade up and down Biscayne Blvd.
   
3. Get our highly paid local artists and athletes to fork up some dough to support our arts through Slam Dunk for the Arts.
4. Bring the International Toy Center to Miami.
5. Connect Miami with Miami Beach with a Disney-style monorail.
6. Put Cirque du Soleil in the Miami Arena or
7. Attach a new baseball stadium/hotel/convention "megaplex" to the Arena.
8. Scrap the streetcar for a jitney to employ people and save millions.
9. Ditch the "Big Dig" and use the train.
10. Create "Broadway South," a theater district around the Carnival Center for the Performing Arts.
11. Use shipping containers for a fast, inexpensive solution to Miami's affordable housing crisis.
12. Make Miami home of the first spaceport.
13. Facilitate the Watson Island Mega-Yacht Marina where a symbiotic relationship will develop between it and the spaceport.
14. "Give" the poor our shuttered public housing units in exchange for sweat equity.
15. Accomodate the "Miami Circle" with a soaring, spirit-lifting, taxpaying condo/office/hotel tower.
16. Make Miami the first "Airship" port in the world.
17. Turn Overtown into "Soul Street U.S.A."
18. Create a world-class surfing pool in downtown Miami.
19. Use the FEC tracks for commuter rail now!
20. Recycle technology, build the "Miami Monument" on the cheap.
21. Recycle the "Harmonic Runway"-- make it the "Harmonic Bridge."
22. Save the Miami Marine Stadium.
23. Arc de Fun!-- Miami's answer to the Arc de Triomphe
24. Joy Temple: Miami's Public Trophy Room.
25. Free Lolita and build the biggest and best Miami FreeQuarium.
    

Why Chicago gets Calatrava and we get the Miami Circle

As of this posting, the tallest building in the world is scheduled to rise in Chicago. World renowned architect Santiago Calatrava's $1.2 billion design is 125 stories and almost 2,000 feet to the top of its spire. Its sensuous design lifts the spirit

Since it has been approved with groundbreaking expected to happen next year, MVB assumes that it has met FAA approval and that it is being built on land where no "sacred ground" or important artifacts were found. Those two factors, along with disgruntled nimby's are hurdles every developer must jump if his or her projects are ever to be built in Miami.

It is ironic how Calatrava describes his vision for the building, using Native American references that could have been used here to justify building the nixed twin condo towers on a pre-Columbian Tequesta site:

"I know that Chicago is an Indian name, and I can imagine in the oldest time the Native Americans arriving at the lake and making a fire, with a tiny column of smoke going up in the air," Calatrava said. "With this simple gesture of turning one floor a little past another, you achieve this form."

Instead of allowing knee-jerk political correctness give us a $27-million-public-dollar circle of holes in the ground known as the "Miami Circle," and to MVB as "the thing", city officials could have made a compromise between the past and the present that would have allowed construction of the towers with preservation of "the thing" as we have argued for in this blog.

As long as visionaries are hobbled by the visionless, Miami will be searching for a world-worthy architectural identity.

Don't get us started on the Miami Circle...

We're against its current approach to preservation so, when we saw this recent email from the City of Miami Planning Department's Historic Preservation E-Newsletter about the Miami Circle, we couldn't resist reminding our gentle readers what a lost opportunity it was not to combine development with preservation. When this "thing" in the picture above is one of the more recognizable objects uncovered at the site, it makes us wonder: what the hell were they thinking when they bought the site from a developer for $26.7 million eight years ago to save it? Today, the septic tank has been covered in sand to preserve it until funding can be found to build an observation tower or some other kind of building for all of those (3 people?) who have an uncontrollable desire to stare at a bunch of holes in the ground.

When Miami gets too crazy for you, try some "cloud climbing"

Afraid to open your mouth anymore in Miami? Worried that you might offend the hypersensitive who live there? Get away from it all by leaving the sunbaked nutcases far below with their obsession with Miami-style political correctness by becoming a "cloud climber."

Our resident cloud climbing expert Eddie "Hilarious" Hillary has been climbing clouds for years, beginning as far back as the 1980 Miami riots. While people were being murdered in the streets willy-nilly, Eddie was blissfully unaware of it all, thirty-five thousand feet above the mayhem in the clouds.

"Most people don't know that Florida-- and especially Miami," he said in a recent interview from a hanger at Tamiami airport, "has the largest mountain range in the world with peaks that consistently dwarf Everest by as much as 10,000 feet. The Cumulonimbus Range is much more exciting, however, than the Himalayans. The CR is constantly moving and changing. You never know what will be rising on the horizon each day. The best time for climbing these shape-shifters is in the afternoon if you want the complete roller coaster experience of 50-mph+ updrafts to heights of 39,000 feet or more. Plus, for all of those adrenaline junkies out there, nothing beats hanging onto a cloud when it suddenly becomes a thunder storm. You haven't lived until you've had speed limit hail smack you up side the head when you're holding on to a windblown cloud by one hand. And lightning? Fogedabouit! I learned a long time ago never to climb with any metal objects on me. All of my cloud climbing gear is made out of Kevlar. You'd be surprised how the smallest amounts of metal will conduct electricity-- but after a lightning bolt zeros in on your zipper, you'll never forget your Velcro fly pants again."

As Eddie winced and groped himself while looking longingly into the clouds above, MVB asked: "Is thunder a problem?"

"What?"

"IS THUNDER A PROBLEM?" we shouted.

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you," he replied. "I'm a little deaf. If you've climbed clouds as long as I have, it comes with the territory. Trust me, you don't know what thunder is until one of those clouds explodes next to you. That's why I wear industrial quality headphones every time I climb. Once you get rid of the metal, the Bose sound canceling phones are the best even though they might be a little bulky to wear-- but hey, we're talking about our hearing here. Right?"

"RIGHT," we shouted back. "SO, EDDIE, DO YOU REMEMBER PROMISING TO DEMONSTRATE CLOUD CLIMBING FOR OUR READERS."

"For sure, Verticus Dudecus. That's why you're here today. The DPs are back, man! I've been trying to climb the fabled and elusive DP twin peaks of the CR since the first time I saw them in 1997."

"THE 'DP TWIN PEAKS'?"

"Yeah, the Dolly Parton ba-ba-ba-zoomies of summer. We call them the D1 and D2s for short. I checked this morning's weather report with "The Weather Station's" own ba-ba-ba-zoomie weathergirl Elita Loresca-- our sport's Patron Saint of Cloud Climbing-- and she predicted favorable conditions this afternoon for exactly these kind of rare cumulonimbus bra-busters. Here," he said, while thrusting a 8-by-10-glossy into our hands, "this is me in 1997 when I first spotted them over Opa Locka."

"THEY'RE QUITE IMPRESSIVE!"

"Damn right they are. I've been looking for them ever since."

"SO, HOW DOES ONE GET ON A CLOUD?"

"Very carefully," he drawled, loving the moment for as long as we would let him.

"FUNNY!" we quickly replied. We had things to do. "SO, ARE YOU GOING TO SHOW US OR WHAT?"

"Well, first off, like any extreme sport, it's best not to do it alone. Say hello to my leetle frein. Jose, come over here."

We turned and saw what appeared to be our Mayan gardener walking toward us out of the shadows of the hanger. He was wearing a parachute rig as big as he was and his head was leaning to one side, struggling to hold up the video camera mounted on the helmet.

"Say hello to Jose Sirrius."

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?"

"Si."

He extended his little brown hand and we shook it.

"Jose is documenting me perfecting my chuteless jump style."

"YOUR 'CHUTELESS JUMP STYLE'?"

"Yeah, man, it's the only way to jump onto a cloud. Talk about feeling free."

"YOU MUST BE NUTS!"

"So I've been told but I ain't that Loony Tunes. I've got little Jose here to save my wind-whipped ass if anything goes wrong."

We looked down at Jose and he tried to smile. He reminded us of Tattoo from "Fantasy Island." But a little taller. We wondered if he could save anybody, much less someone hurtling toward the earth at over 125-mph.

"He's gonna take the pictures for you."

With that, Eddie grabbed his metal-free climbing gear and headed out towards something called a PAC 750XL, a propeller driven airplane with no side door. Within minutes, we were climbing toward the famous D1 and 2s and freezing our asses off.

Slapping ourselves to keep warm, we shouted over the roar of the engine and the hurricane force winds screaming outside the door: "HOW HIGH ARE WE?"

"WE'RE CLOSING IN ON 20,000 FEET!" Eddie shouted back. "CAN'T GET ANY HIGHER THAN THAT IN THIS KIND OF PLANE. THAT'S ONLY HALF WAY UP DOLLY'S TITS!" he joked. "BUT IF I'M LUCKY AND GET A FEW UPDRAFTS, I'LL BE COPPING A FEEL AT 40,000 FEET BEFORE YOU KNOW IT!"

A thought struck Eddie and made him sit up straight. He turned to Jose and shouted, "WHOE, LITTLE BUDDY, DID YOU PACK MY OXYGEN MASK?"

Jose smiled and nodded.

Eddie smiled and stuck his fist out so Jose could hit the top of it. Jose just kept nodding his head and smiling. "NO, LITTLE DUDE, YOU GOTTA HIT THE TOP OF MY FIST LIKE THIS."

Eddie took Jose's hand, balled it up into a fist and bounced it against the top of his fist.

"THAT'S RIGHT," he shouted encouragingly.

We turned to look out the window and saw our reflection. We exchanged knowing, anxious glances and saw a trembling smile spreading slowly across the glass as we began to have second thoughts about this whole undertaking .

"BESIDES FORGETTING YOUR OXYGEN MASK," Eddie continued, "THE LAST THING YOU WANNA DO IS MISS THE CLOUD. RIGHT, JOSE?" Eddie elbowed Jose and the two exchanged what appeared to be certifiable smiles.

We swallowed hard and tightened our seatbelts as they edged closer to the open door. From what we could figure out, Eddie was planning on throwing his climbing pack out the door and then jumping after it-- without a chute. Oh, yeah, it also appeared that they couldn't communicate worth a damn. And it had nothing to do with the infernal racket reverberating all around us. The guys couldn't speak each other's language. This is bad juju whether you're standing on solid Miami terra firma or flying 20,000 feet above it. At that point we decided to cancel the demonstration but we were too late. Without any warning-- not even a "One, Two, Three"-- Eddie threw out his climbing pack and followed it out the door. As it turned out, even little Jose didn't expect it. He was nodding his head and looking at us with an uncomprehending smile when we shouted and pointed at the door. When he turned and saw Eddie was missing, he fell backward as shocked as we were. He looked like a beetle that had been knocked onto its back and couldn't right itself. The parachute assembly and camera mount were holding him down. We unbuckled our seatbelts, helped him to his feet, and threw him out the door. Hearing his wussy scream trail after him was not a good omen. Still, as it was discovered later, the little undocumented alien (now on the run) was able to get a great shot of Eddie closing in on the twin peaks (see photo).

Unfortunately, we are deeply saddened to report that Eddie "Hilarious" Hillary missed his objective. From what we can tell, Jose thought Eddie was supposed to go left but he went right instead-- right past the always beckoning, never attainable, deliriously elusive, 40-thousand-foot D Cups of the legendary twin peaks of the CR. All we have of our crazy, mixed-up friend is the last picture Jose took of him living life the only way he knew how: fearlessly and without any common sense. Eddie's in the center of that hole in the cloud (see arrow). If you close your eyes, and think real hard, you'll be able to see him waving back up at you shouting with glee as he reinacts the favorite scene from his most favorite movie of all time: "Dr. Strangelove." Yes, that's Eddie, slapping the bomb with his cowboy hat and shouting for all he's worth as he zeros in on the center of the Miami Circle:

"YOU LITTLE MEXICAN DICK WAD, I SAID 'RIGHT'!"

Which reminds us of the importance of being able to communicate with each other as Miamians; be it from high above God's green earth, or on the streets of our fair burg, we really need to get on the same language page. Sometimes, as you can see from this cautionary tale, it could mean life or death-- for us and our beloved city.

Memorial Services will be held Monday, October 9th at 11:00am at Van Orsdel Funeral Chapels, 3333 N.E. 2nd Ave. In lieu of flowers, Eddie's sole surviving family member, his little brother and world-famous stunt man Harley "Hocky Puck" Hillary, has asked that donations be given in his brother's name to the Minuteman Civil Defense Corps Border Fence Project. With special permission from the county commission, burial will be held at 1:00pm in the center of the Miami Circle followed by an open bar reception at Tobacco Road with live music by the Dixie Dawgs Unleashed.

How to Turn MIA into a Multi-Billion Dollar Turkey Vulture Landing Strip

Spend money. Lots of it. $6.2 billion worth of it. Spend so much with no end in sight that you get Moody's Investors Service to downgrade MIA bonds. Spend so much a consultant recommends an independent review of the airport's building plans because of a $1 billion overrun. Spend so much airlines are driven away to Ft. Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport where the cost of doing business is cheaper.

Right now, MIA is one of the most expensive airports in the US with per passenger charges to airlines more than double the average. When Moody's heard that another $1 billion was going to be requested from the county commission, they opined that if more money is thrown into the money pit, "airline costs will rise significantly enough to potentially erode future traffic and revenue."

Talk about irony. This is the same kind of thing predicted for the $1.2 billion Port of Miami tunnel should it get built. Shippers and truckers will be hit with fees that will drive them to Port Everglades in Broward county. This kind of talk would make most sober individuals pause-- unless, of course, you were the mastermind behind the port tunnel. Before becoming Miami-Dade Aviation Director, Jose Abreu was Secretary of the Florida Department of Transportation. His response to cost overruns at MIA is to "move forward...on the North Terminal. We're still working on the 'Can we afford it?' part."

And you wonder why our cost of living keeps going up? It's because of bureaucrats and technocrats who don't see dollar signs, only numbers, who aren't held accountable with fines or imprisonment when they lose control of the reins. Instead, the worst that might happen to them is that they would get fired with a "golden parachute" to protect their incompetent asses.

This foreseen exodus to Broward is already happening with your average Dade resident. Many have been driving northward to Ft. Lauderdale for years to fly in and out of south Florida because of significantly cheaper flights.

In the end, after spending billions and billions of dollars, Dade may find it no longer has any commercial air or seaport user problems not because of its bank breaking building programs but because it doesn't have any users-- they've all moved their base of operations to Broward. I'm sure those county commisisoners are sitting back watching this county dig itself into a hole that it can't climb out of, knowing if they remain patient long enough, increased commerce will naturally find its way to less expensive Broward with little effort on their part.

MVB urges the Miami-Dade County commission to put an end to the madness when they are asked to vote on the requested extra billion MIA dollars next year. Enough is enough. Let Abreu and his crew find other ways to "make ends meet," a phrase we're sure he has never heard up until now. According to the Miami Herald, he's been forced to explore cost cutting alternatives that range from no longer watering the plants at the airport to rock mining at the decommissioned Opa-Locka West airport. According to the "experts," selling our rocks should bring in between $200 million to $400 million over ten years.

We are reminded of the words of Sir Manny Mojito, King of Little H, that "Miami is such a silly place," where the solution to digging us out of a hole in the ground is to dig yet another. And where the only thing our new state-of-the-art airport may be able to attract after spending billions and billions of dollars are those big, ugly turkey vultures from Hinkley, Ohio that have come south for the winter looking for empty skies unhindered with air traffic so they can circle lazily, waiting patiently like the Broward county commissioners, for MIA to die before swooping down to dine on obscenely expensive citizen-fed carrion.

UpDate (5/15/08): Today the Miami Dade County Commision will vote on whether or not to increase funding the North Terminal by another $64.3 million in order to finish the baggage handling system ($43.5 million) and the automated people mover ($20.8 million). How can they say no? And so it goes.

Earliest Known New World Written Language Points to Miami

Following the announcement in Science magazine of the earliest known example of a written language in the New World, MVB resident archeologist Bobby Bermudez took it upon himself to travel to Mexico to offer his services in translating the new find. The Olmec inscription is estimated to be close to 3,000 years old but Mr. Bermudez, fresh off his controversial theory about the Miami Circle, contends that the faintly etched symbols on a stone found beneath a giant Olmec head belong to what may be the first known advertisement.

"If my interpretation is correct," Mr. Bermudez reports from his hospital bed at Baptist Hospital in Kendall, FL., where he is being treated for a collapsed lung and broken bones, "I will go down in history as the man who discovered the first advertisment."

Mr. Bermudez, despite warnings from fellow archeologists not to go digging around the base of the giant head because the soil was unstable, was crushed by the head when it fell over on top of him.

"I needed to bolster my theory and, in order to do that, I felt it was necessary to dig further, if you will," he continued, "to see what I could find at the sight of the original discovery. Sure, it hurts, but it was worth it in the end."

And what was his important discovery? According to Mr. Bermudez, the slab discovered under the giant head was connected to a larger inscription that, when translated, says: "What happens in Miami stays in Miami."

The Miami FreeQuarium

Me and the boys of MVB were sitting around talking and sipping mojitos, is our wont at the end of the day, when the lively conversation inevitably turned to the county commission's poster child for boorish behavior and environmental indifference. When Natacha Seijas recently beat back the citizen led attempt to have her removed from office, I wondered half seriously if perhaps our community might be jinxed. I was surprised by the response by our staff resident renegade on the run, Nokosee Osceola (first introduced here with his hot girlfriend).

NOKOSEE: You got that right.
VERTICUS: What do you mean?
NOKOSEE: My shaman, E.F. Hialeah says--

At this point, I was surprised to see the staff lean forward in anticipation. I sensed I had been missing out on something and made a mental note to attend more of the daily mojito sessions.

NOKOSEE: Free the fish.
VERTICUS: "Free the fish"?
NOKOSEE: Free the fish.

I must have been missing something. I looked around for help. The guys were nodding their heads in sage agreement.

VERTICUS: Okay, Nokosee, what the hell are you talking about?
NOKOSEE: Until you free the fish, this place will never be happy hunting grounds.
VERTICUS: "Happy hunting grounds"?
NOKOSEE: Si.

I sighed and tried to remember that Nokosee is the product of a Cuban mother and a Miccosukee/Seminole father who met at Hialeah High School and that getting a straight answer, an answer that I might understand without an interpreter, would require patience, something I'm not famous for. So I exhaled slowly once more through my mouth and waited, smiling hopefully that the young hunk sitting in front of me in a loincloth sipping the last drops of his mojito would be more forthcoming.

NOKOSEE: It's wrong to imprison the fish. Like all living things, we are born to be free.

I looked around at the guys.

VERTICUS: Does anyone know what the fvck he's talking about?

Eyes rolled, shoulders shrugged, but no one had a clue.

NOKOSEE: The big fish in the Seaquarium, you dumbkoff! Do I have to spell it out for you?

Nokosee's outburst caught us all by surprise. Although rumor had it that he had been groomed by his mysterious ex-Green Beret Nam dad to be the first of the "New Seminole" to take back south Florida, we hadn't seen any of that probable streak of genetic madness until now. I proceeded cautiously.

VERTICUS: You talkin' about Lolita the killer whale?
NOKOSEE: You got it, kemasabe. As long as she's kept in captivity, this land will be cursed.
VERTICUS: "Cursed"?
NOKOSEE: Big winds, bad people, and insurance rates skyrocketing right out the top of your chickee.

I was afraid to say anything and tried to conceal my astonishment that anyone today would believe in such nonsense when I guess Nokosee caught my left eyebrow rising slowly across what I thought was my best poker face.

NOKOSEE: You don't think the land and its people are cursed, do you?

A trembling smile broke across my face and I shrugged helplessly.

NOKOSEE: Did you know that California hasn't had an earthquake since they freed Willy?

I looked around for help. The guys turned away. I tried to keep my mouth shut, but I'm cursed too.

VERTICUS: Just mudslides and fires.

Nokosee jumped up and threw his cocktail glass down on MVB's terraza floor. It exploded in deadly shards. One stuck in Nokosee's calf and blood began to pump out but he never flinched or lost a beat.

NOKOSEE: That's for their other sins to mother earth!

With that, he set his bare foot on my desk, yanked the glass splinter from his leg and threw it at the Hooters calendar on the wall behind me. The glass shard stuck squarely in the middle of today's date. I swallowed deeply and turned to see him leaving a trail of blood across the floor and out the door. The resounding sound of the door slamming shut had us all jumping in unison.

As we paused to collect our breath and to wait for our collective heart beats to drop, it became clear to us after a much needed mojito refill, that the half-naked Seminole might be onto something. Especially after our resident archaeologist Bobby Bermudez, champion of the controversial notion that the Miami Circle is really a giant pre-Columbian "Smiley Face," suggested that history is full of cursed people and lands and despite intense scientific scrutiny, many have not been disproven. So, after another round from the mojito pitcher, we all agreed that freeing Lolita was worth the effort. By the end of the work day we approved the following course of action:

1. Work to free Lolita.
2. Propose a joint venture between the county and the Seaquarium to reinvent the old rusting hulk by turning it into the biggest and best fish-friendly aquarium in the world. No more performing mammals of any size-- except for the divers who will clean the tanks.
3. Call the new tourist attraction FreeQuarium.
   

Over the following days following our communal hangover, we discovered more reasons to lift the curse. For example, we should work to remove the trained animal shows because of the methods employed. You can learn more about why we have taken this stance here and here.