MiamiNights - Miami Night Clubs, Nightlife

I remember the first time I went to a beach in Ft. Lauderdale. In the salad days of my youth I figured, being only 20 miles north of Miami, it would be somewhat similar; attractive people, parking, uh, beach sand. Then I discovered that the beach area itself is about 36 inches wide and festooned with all manner of unattractive, cave-dwelling, awkward fat asses. Encroached on the west by obnoxious rat-infested Hollister-sponsored tourist traps and stinky crystal meth-bumping bikerscum, I quickly sprinted back to my Dade-plated automobile and, tachometer pinned at 6500 RPM, knuckles white with fright and dysentery, sped myself back to I-95 (after the obligatory stop at Le Tub). 

And now they've discovered a way to make it even worse. To hasten the physical degradation that accompanies a visit to Ft. Lauderdale beach (the mental degradation knob already turned to 11) they are adding crushed glass to the beach sand. We can't make this shit up folks.

I've been saying this to you for years, whispering it in your ear while you drive down the endless dilapidated stretches of Broward Boulevard (and in your sleep too, but there's not enough evidence to convict me). Your controlling interest in that old timey "world famous" pizza place with airbrushed funny Florida tshirts? Sell, sell, sell!

Broward is going down for the count. There's not enough yuppie scum in all of Manhattan to transform that place into something livable (though they're pretty close, Manhattan being like that body factory in the Matrix, but with yuppie scum instead of regular human scum) and at the moment it's running on the fumes of white supremacy and residual income from Oakland Park Boulevard child-sex brothels. They're going to have to rope off the county line and turn the thing to tinder, a no-mans-land of casino boat tours and live bait shops.