Sins of Commission

Below-the-fold news from City Hall

Oh, how my cup runneth over. These past couple of commission meetings, bless them, have produced enough newsworthy content to last a year. But while I work on some of the meatier posts, I thought it would be fun to run through a little B-roll from the last couple of commission meetings. Who knows, I might make this a regular thing. Enjoy!

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Maria Cruzchev

Forgive me for kicking off a meal with a dessert, but I’m compelled to report upfront that Maria Cruz is now dabbling in performance art. Forever a theater kid, she attended Tuesday’s commission meeting hilariously donned in a black ushanka (a Russian fur hat) and what appeared to be a lei made of synthetic autumn leaves. This culturally confused costume of hers was in service of some kind of awkward satire aimed at the mayor’s habit of saying “winter is coming” to warn of what could be an impending recession.

“I’m wearing a fur hat because winter is coming but winter is not coming because it is not winter and here are some leaves because it is fall and also the city is in free fall and this all made sense when I ran it by Sue and Gordon but now I’m not so sure because Ariel looks confused and I’m worried because I can’t see Melissa but she always looks confused anyway so whatever Mayor Lago *spits on the floor* you suck!”

Look, I could easily dedicate a whole post to Maria. In fact, I probably will soon enough. But for now, let me just say that while her performance Tuesday verged on it’s-so-bad-it’s-good territory, it also came across as unintentionally honest. There was something so very on-the-nose about comrade Maria dressing up like a Bolshevik apparatchik to deliver yet another tirade on behalf of the CGNA politburo. Spasibo, tovarishch, the Party looks favorably upon you.

Empty Chair

Apparently, Melissa Castro was ill and could not attend Tuesday’s meeting in person, but she did make herself available via Zoom, so we were not totally deprived of her customarily keen insight. She reminded me of a young Ruth Bader Ginsburg the way she pinned down Lago for not objecting to something he didn’t know about, i.e. the salary increase being added to the budget. He somehow wriggled free, but, hey, there’s always next time.

Actually, I want to say Melissa’s finest contribution to recent discourse was made in the days leading up to the commission meeting. And I don’t mean what I assume was a mimosa-fueled Instagram reel filmed over the weekend at the “Shops of Merrick” in which she implored residents to support local “bisthnesses.” I mean her Mayor’s Gamble essay, which was sent out via a CGNA e-blast and later reposted in Gables Insider.

Unfortunately, I don’t think we can give Melissa credit for this one, for although the writing is bad, it nonetheless consists of actual English words that have been arranged in a nonrandom and grammatically coherent way which means Melissa Castro most definitely is not the author.

Ariel Day-Lewis

There’s always much to say about Ariel and his limitless resistance to self-awareness. I mean, imagine taking your colleagues to task for grandstanding mere minutes after you snidely “gifted” them copies of Robert’s Rules of Order in the middle of a commission meeting. Could you do that with a straight face? I couldn’t.

But while the man is a veritable fount of faux pas, his on-the-dais chastisement of Lago for supposedly behaving like a socialist dictator might be his most tone-deaf one yet. I’m not so sure I would be playing the tyrant card if any, much less all, of the following were true about me:

• I used my own pay-to-play fake “news outlet” to get elected and then allowed it to reemerge while in office so that I could continue to manipulate my constituency.

• I tried to stage a coup by firing the city manager during my first commission meeting.

• I fought tooth and nail to make elections far less democratic.

• I clandestinely and unapologetically doubled my own tax-funded compensation after less than six months in office.

• I voted against a tax cut I once championed because I realized my main political rival would get the lion’s share of the credit.

• I put in motion a plan to raid city reserves to fund a series of bread-and-circus projects for my political allies.

• I was the quasi-deified figurehead of a “neighbors association” that is the functional equivalent of a junta.

By the way, if Ariel is going to be a stickler for parliamentary procedure, he might want to brush up on some himself. For instance, he might want to stop saying extraordinarily stupid things like “I yield my time” or “I reserve the balance of my time” while he’s on the dais. I understand that he probably hears a lot of that when he fantasy-watches C-SPAN, and I get that those phrases sound fancy and officious, but the city commission is not congress and debate on the dais is not time controlled. There is no time to yield or reserve. I sometimes wonder if Ariel comprehends this. Maybe he’s a supremely talented method actor who just gets lost in the role. In any event, it’s all gibberish.

No Komment Kirk

Every time I look at Kirk now, I can’t help but think of the proverbial teen who lost her way. You know, the once pretty and sweet 15-year-old girl who was a straight-A student and smiled in family photos but who eventually fell in with the wrong crowd at school and ended up with 28 piercings, face tattoos, meth teeth, and a long rap sheet by the time she turned 19.

This one really hurts because I liked Kirk. I believed his Howdy Doody, pillar-of-the-community schtick. And it’s not his voting with Ariel and Melissa that bothers me. Sure, I’d prefer he didn’t, but they’re his votes to cast, his reputation to ruin, and his political future to set ablaze.

It’s the way he has disgraced himself that upsets me, and I don’t mean how he went from reliably upbeat and obliging to gruff and intransigent in a matter of weeks. I mean that if you would have told me in July that come September, we would witness Kirk Menendez lean back in his chair with his hands clasped and stare off into space while one respected resident after another spoke sincerely and passionately about elections and democracy, I would have written you off as clueless. If you had told me that after all the thoughtful pleas from former mayors and commissioners, Kirk’s only response would be an undignified “no comment,” I would have said, “You don’t know Kirk Menendez. Remember, this is the same man who can riff for 10 minutes on the fact that Back to the Future is playing for free at the art cinema, and you mean to tell me that the most he’ll be able to muster after public comment on the biggest item the commission will hear all year is ‘no comment’? No way. He’s neither that stupid nor that ignoble.”

Yet here we are. We’ve arrived at the point where Kirk is now the houseplant of City Hall, and a prickly one at that. It appears the only way to get any sign of life out of Kirk is to call a vote on the commission’s salaries or funding for Phillips Park. In fact, I’m starting to notice that saying “money” around Kirk is like saying “Hey, Siri” around your iPhone.

I should mention that many of you warned me. You emailed me after my first Kirk post to tell me I was being naive and that the particular carrots and sticks that moderate his conduct are much more tangible than he lets on. Well, I’m inclined to say you were right, and I can assure you that a more grounded examination of Kirk is forthcoming.

Mango Municipality

I know I said this post would consist of B-roll, but this last bit is admittedly broad and thematic. It’s about what the whole city is talking about: our community’s dizzying spiral into third-world political dysfunction. The one term I hear most often on this topic is “banana republic,” which is certainly fitting. But given the number of characteristics of an actual banana republic that simply don’t apply to an American city, I figured we could use a more tailored and precise term: mango municipality.

I’ll expound upon this idea in upcoming posts, but suffice it to say for now that the increased toxicity of our political discourse and the cult-like zealotry that has washed over many in the community have reached their respective inflection points with the new commission. We are rapidly devolving into South Florida’s latest mango municipality.

Now, you might say, “Gee, Aesop, aren’t the 1,400 words of carp and snark above a glaring example of that very toxicity.”

Not quite.

Notice how I’m not the one screaming CORRUPTION or TRAITOR in all-caps every time a commissioner disagrees with me. I’m not the one waddling into commission chambers every couple of Tuesdays to spew foam-at-the-mouth rage onto my elected officials during virtually every discussion. I’m not the one calling code enforcement on the friends and family of my political enemies over a few orchids. I’m not the one lying to Miami Herald reporters by telling them to hurry over to city hall because the mayor is going to be handcuffed and arrested on the dais. I’m not the one who preached about unity at my own investiture ceremony but then ducked out of the reception just minutes before a billboard truck drove by City Hall blasting lewd propaganda accusing the mayor of being corrupt. I’m not the one trying to turn commission meetings into Soviet show trials and disgracing the dais with discussion items whose sole purpose is to harass and embarrass my enemies. I’m not the one crying poor mouth after getting caught giving myself a 107% salary increase but forgetting to mention that I just scooped up a new Maserati. I’m not the one who shut down my WhatsApp group because a few residents had the audacity to question the CGNA catechism.

A display of unity seen at the new commission’s investiture ceremony, which would mark the first time in recorded history certain elected officials passed up an opportunity to celebrate themselves.

I’m just the one telling the truth. If any of it seems excessive or mean-spirited to you, just remember that ugly things beget ugly truths, and if you think this newsletter is fighting fire with fire, I submit to you that it’s more like fighting a flamethrower with a matchbook. Moreover, if you think I’m too biased or too soft on the politicians I like, then please feel free to treat the toothache while I treat the cancer.

And, if at the end of the day, this newsletter still proves a touch too rich for your blood, I certainly respect that. There’s a small x at the top of the screen that you are welcome to click. No hard feelings, the rest of us will still be here if you change your mind.