After the North Miami Beach and North Miami City Council elections, the second half of the year proved to be just as exciting and fun-filled as the first.  Here’s a recap from my summer blogs.

Right out of the box, “retired” NMB Councilman Philippe Derose wanted to be gone but not forgotten.  So he asked for a building to be named after him.  He obviously never got the memo that it’s better to give than to receive, because even though he didn’t give much to the city, except maybe add a touch of class to the dais, he wanted to make sure he received recognition and accolades for, well, existing.  By way of a building.  Because LIFETIME HEALTH INSURANCE ON TAXPAYER DIME isn’t nearly enough of a thank you.  Luckily, the City Council decided to give him a farewell party instead and sent him on his way.  Hopefully, if he likes his healthcare insurance, he can keep his healthcare insurance.  Yeah.  Just had to throw that in.

June also gave us the pleasure of watching Councilcritter Frantz Pierre squirm in his seat and then lose whatever little respect he had from his colleagues on the dais for his epically failed attempt to have two of them replaced by his cronies.  He’s still trying his weasel-ly best to get back in the good graces of his fellow Council members.  Um, good luck with that, Frantzie!  (Is Hell frozen over yet?)

Because of my desire to finally see development in North Miami Beach, I unintentionally incurred the wrath of hippies, tree huggers and other idiots who wanted to stop development in our city under the guise of “Saving Greynolds Park.”  I was accused of being in the pockets of the mayor and a lobbyist by the same irrelevant group of naysayers, whose organization (rumor has it) has since been disbanded.  I smacked ’em back for good measure.  They’ve been strangely silent ever since.

Also in June, the Miami New Times reported the sighting of “a creepy-ass clown” in Oleta River State Park.  I immediately surmised that this mysterious figure was none other than North Miami’s omnipresent lawyer-on-the-spot, Frank Wolland, who dresses as a clown for his city’s annual Winterfest every Thanksgiving.  He has still neither confirmed nor denied that accusation.

July was fairly uneventful with the exception that North Miami Beach finally hired a City Manager to replace Roselyn Weisblum.  Ana Garcia came to us from the very same Village that spawned an Idiot by the name of Bryan Cooper, i.e., Biscayne Park.  Bryan thought it was a good idea to jump on the “Save Greynolds Park” bandwagon and smack NMB.  I smacked back.  You know I just had to.  For fun, since July is usually quite boring.

August is also a typically slow month in South Florida, what with the heat and all.  The big news was that we lost our very own, first ever gay male strip club, Swinging Richards.  I was sorry to see them go until a month later its manager, Justin Bieber wannabe Roman Dickerson, tried to bite the hand that fed him by trashing North Miami Beach after they relocated to Pompano Beach.  He should have kept his bitchy little comments to himself.  Or, at the very least, not try to out-bitch a bitch.  I just had to smack him back, too.  (So many smack-ees, so little time, right?)  Roman, honey, that’s Queen Bitch to you!

The other news event in August distracted the tree huggers from their mission to destroy development by giving them a real environmental disaster to fret over.  And fret they did!  Actually, they did more than fret, they took action.  The State of Florida’s Department of Environmental Protection planned to sell state owned land in Oleta Park and other areas in South Florida.  The tree huggers’ calls, letters and protests worked because less than one month later, the State backed down and decided to take Oleta off the chopping block.  I applauded them for a job well done.  I did refuse to have make-up sex with them, though.  There’s just so far I’ll go.

Speaking of make-up sex, September was the month I tried to break up with North Miami.  Not once, but twice.  Less than a week later, I was lured back into writing a North Miami column when its proposed budget screwed the Police Athletic League out of $20,000.00.  I tried my hardest to ignore North Miami for a while, but a ruptured pipe at Biscayne Landing got my attention, which was mainly because it involved one Faustin Denis, Jr., whose trial watch I had been on for over a year.  Just last month, new toxic troubles at Biscayne Landing brought me even closer to reconciliation with North Miami, especially when the Council got proactive about the problem and voted against the developer.  I finally capitulated and agreed to get back together with North Miami after attending its Food, Wine & Spirits Festival in November.  No make-up sex was involved, but I did get a hug from Mayor Lucie Tondreau.

That was the hug heard ’round the world.

Okay, yeah, I exaggerate.  It wasn’t the world.  But it did get a few NMB peeps upset at me.  I mean, seriously!  Did you think I was cheating on you?  With a CITY?  Get a grip, people!

Unfortunately, September was also the month my good friend, former State Representative John Patrick Julien passed away.  I still miss him dearly.

Stay tuned for the final installment of the Year in Review.

Stephanie Kienzle
“Spreading the Wealth”