The Bad Actors' Playhouse

As I hinted in my last post, item F-3 from the June 11th commission meeting is…well…it’s something.

Marking a mildly disappointing conclusion to the Miracle Theatre wheelchair lift mini-scandal, the item was everything you come to expect from the new Coral Gables. In fact, I was tempted to simply post the whole thing without comment. But then I realized that at 55 minutes long, the very least I could do was trim a little excess fat. Besides, pumping out a post about how lazy and useless KFC is while being somewhat lazy and useless myself could amount to a kind of ironic, self-inflicted meta-joke.

Hence the highlight reel below, which while lengthy itself, should help make navigating the item easier, less time-consuming, and, hopefully, more enjoyable.

The highlight reel

1. The item kicks off with a mea culpa appearance from Barbara Stein, who must have realized that it’s probably not the best look to have city commissioners serving as her personal consiglieri, and that if she’s looking for a $41,900 handout, she needs to make the request herself.

2. Anderson floats the generous, if unnecessary, idea of having the city provide the $41,900 as a loan and encourages KFC to help Actors’ Playhouse raise money for the loan repayment.

3. Kirk, demonstrating both his stunning legal prowess and his ability to discern the painfully obvious, informs his colleagues that he had consulted with the city attorney and confirmed that the commission did indeed have the “authority” to fund repairs to city-owned buildings thereby addressing a concern raised by absolutely no one.

4. Mrs. Cruzchev, the city’s unelected and non-voting bonus commissioner, takes to the podium to ramble semi-incoherently about how it would be a tragic injustice to quibble further as it would only delay the resolution of an issue that no one had bothered to mention until two meetings ago when Kirk sprung it on the commission without a modicum of due diligence. Oh, and also, you can’t ask the tenant of city-owned property to live up to their contractual obligations because of Burger Bob’s or something.

5. Anderson notes that the loan would be “immediately provided” which should put an end to any exigency-based objections. Then, Lago reminds the Menace of Miller Road that Burger Bob’s is a city owned and operated facility unlike the Miracle Theatre which is leased by a private entity, and that actual due diligence was performed in the allocation of the Burger Bob’s funds.

6. Kirk, who spends much of every meeting staring off into space in a kind of semi-vegetative state, asks the city attorney to clarify just what the hell he voted for just two meetings ago, only to then take issue with her very inconvenient answer. Both Kirk and Ariel claim they approved the $41,900 “reimbursement” the first time around. Suffice it to say that the city attorney is a hyper competent legal authority except when she disagrees with KFC, in which case she becomes a space cadet who gets hung up over the actual meaning of words instead of using her telepathic abilities to glean what Kirk and Ariel really want in their heart of hearts.

7. Ariel swoops in to demolish Anderson’s proposal by conveniently ignoring everything she said. Apparently, he thinks her loan idea is dumb because the mayor failed to get the renovation of Burger Bob’s “done cheaper.” What the cost of a complete renovation of a city-controlled facility with no tenant has to do with a wheelchair lift at the Miracle Theatre is anyone’s guess. As you can see, logic is not exactly Ariel’s strong suit. He also argues that replacing the lift is a wise investment or something and that the city is potentially exposed to an ADA action even though the facility is ADA compliant. Interestingly, each of Ariel’s objections to Anderson’s proposal suggests that he doesn’t understand what a loan is, as nothing he says is even remotely relevant unless you assume the word “loan” means “to deny funds.” Also, Ariel shows off his bona fides as a real patron of the arts by citing the world-famous “Miami Philharmenamodumenic Band.”

8. Ariel, North America’s leading parliamentarian and sworn defender of Robert’s Rules of Order, brazenly interrupts Lago, who, as mayor, chairs the meeting. When Lago objects and informs Ariel that he isn’t done speaking, Ariel literally tells him “you were done with your comments” and then simply takes over. He then speaks over Anderson, the vice mayor, as if she isn’t there. Also worth noting is how Ariel, the Divine Sovereign of Coral Gables, pulls rank and essentially tells staff to disregard a perfectly legitimate directive from the mayor. Lago’s expression when Ariel tells him that he’s done talking is absolutely priceless, by the way.

9. Anderson patiently explains what a ‘slippery slope’ is to Ariel “I-Skipped-Career-Day” Fernandez.

10. Lago embarrasses Dr. Castro, who just a few weeks ago lectured Rich Lara for not having all the facts that may not be factual, by getting her to admit that she hadn’t bothered to read the city’s lease with the Actor’s Playhouse or the ADA report. Although, to be fair, I’m not sure it matters. Asking Dr. Castro to review a lease is a lot like asking your cat to review your life insurance policy. Also, keep an ear out for when Dr. Castro commands Lago to “get down to the point.” I’m not sure there’s an idiom that this haughty imbecile hasn’t mangled.

11. Mrs. Cruzchev is allowed to shout whatever she wants from her seat and interrogate the city attorney because that kind of thing is allowed when you are a member of the KFC Loyalty Program. But remember, it’s Lago who’s the tyrant and mortal enemy of decorum.

12. The debate over what KFC actually voted for during the May 7th meeting is revisited. Kirk and Ariel remain beside themselves, for, you see, in their clown world, the idea of seeking additional quotes while simultaneously approving the only one you currently have makes perfect sense and should therefore be intuited regardless of how badly you actually articulate that painfully idiotic idea. Perhaps if Ariel and Kirk weren’t so busy whispering and hand-signaling and kicking each other under the dais like Abbot and Costello back in May, they might have been able to follow along. Why did any of this matter when KFC had the votes to pass whatever they want? Politics, my dear Watson, amateurish politics. They knew Anderson’s loan idea was eminently reasonable, and so they were hoping to avoid it by making it moot rather than have to vote it down.

13. KFC votes down Anderson’s loan proposal 2-3. Interestingly, Kirk, who’s fond of providing terse justifications before all his controversial votes—as if anyone cares—says his “no” vote is because “there is a window of opportunity with the A/C system being installed this summer, we can’t go on a Hail Mary that the funds will be raised.” Once again, this makes no sense in light of Anderson’s proposal to provide the loan immediately.

14. Ariel interrupts Lago, once again, and attempts to prevent further discussion. This is Ariel’s go-to move whenever he’s on the wrong side of an issue.

15. If nothing else, make sure you watch this part. Kirk offers up some of the worst acting anyone’s had to endure since Sharknado. It’s a truly pitiful performance, especially from an alleged movie buff. “We are letting politics dictate the day, and I’m not going to allow it!!!” he shouts, trembling in a fit of faux rage that I suspect was plan B after plan A, crying, wasn’t quite panning out for him. And have fun watching him grovel and obsequiously apologize to his celestial monarch, the regal luminary of his tiny universe, Queen Barbara Stein, for the indignity of seeing her request for a patently unwarranted disbursement of $41,900 scrutinized rather than delivered to her office directly and without question via golden chariot.

16. Not willing to be upstaged by Kirk, Ariel tries his hand at righteous indignation by chastising “this commission” (but he obviously meant Lago and Anderson) of imposing a double standard because it granted the Biltmore an insurance waiver last year.

17. Lago and city staff take Ariel to school and explain how insurance works. More specifically, they remind Ariel (who clearly wasn’t paying attention back when he voted for it) that the Biltmore was given a waiver because, due to an anomalous insurance market last year, obtaining the amount of coverage required by the city’s lease was categorically impossible; the carriers wouldn’t write it. Therefore, the city issued a one-time waiver with the stipulation that the Biltmore obtain a $10 million line of credit to cover the policy period. The Biltmore, by the way, was once again able to obtain normal coverage for the current period thanks to an improved insurance market.

18. KFC gives away $41,900 of public money with no strings attached to the Miracle Theatre to replace its existing, fully functioning wheelchair lift as Ariel offers one last self-abasing apology to her excellency, Barbara Stein.

Final thoughts

It’s not exactly a secret that KFC views the Miracle Theatre crowd as a potential reservoir of votes. After all, what remains of KFC’s base skews a bit older, and if you’ve ever been to an Actors’ Playhouse production, you know very well that the audience often looks like it came straight from the set of the film Cocoon. That whole building is essentially the western campus of The Palace. I mean, do you really think Dr. Castro is suddenly attending all those shows because she’s such a devoted fan of live theatre? Give me a break. Had you inquired as recently as a year ago, she probably would’ve told you that Playbill is a glossy magazine with a bunch of naked women in it.

Which is why most of you recognize that this $41,900 taxpayer gift to the Actors’ Playhouse is ultimately a mixture of cronyism, grift, and vote-buying. And the fact that this was done by the same people who raised holy hell over the purchase of coffee pods for the development services staff doesn’t even surprise you anymore, because you know that’s who these people are. They’re liars and hypocrites.

They’re also inept. Indeed, if you’re like me, you watched the clips above and thought, ‘I get it, KFC, you want to funnel $42K to a client organization so you can vacuum up whatever votes that will get you. But can you at least try to make it look kosher?

‘Can you maybe try to anticipate the most obvious of political skewers, like Anderson’s simple and reasonable loan idea? Can you at least pretend to understand how ignoring that clearly articulated idea for an entire hour as though it were never suggested could come across as astonishingly disingenuous?

‘Can you stop behaving as though Anderson didn’t repeatedly say that the money would be made available immediately and that the city would work with the Theatre to establish reasonable terms?

‘Can you stop pretending like it was ever suggested that any of you donate the money yourselves, as if with your nonexistent philanthropic histories anyone expects you to pry open those dusty and cobwebbed checkbooks of yours for any cause that isn’t a new car?

‘Can you please stop acting like it’s so incredibly unreasonable to expect an organization like the Actors’ Playhouse to look to its supporters for money? You know, the same Actors’ Playhouse that features this in its lobby:

‘And can you please, for the love of God, understand that the city manager you foisted on us without warning is wildly unpopular and widely looked upon with suspicion, and that it only makes matters immeasurably worse when “Aimless” Amos Rojas doesn’t have a single, solitary word to contribute to an hour-long, highly contentious discussion about an issue that is entirely within his purview as the city’s chief executive? For $300K a year, do you think we can maybe find a real administrator rather than a semi-retired Helen Keller impersonator?’

I used to view KFC as representing a kind of Sophie’s choice. To have any hope of understanding their antics, I thought, one had to choose between two almost equally distasteful explanations: stupidity and dishonesty. But I’ve come to realize that it’s not so much a choice, but rather a combination, a dangerously potent one, like the political equivalent of mixing bleach and ammonia.

KFC thinks they can lie, cheat, and steal from us all in broad daylight and without anyone noticing. They think they can hoodwink us into a state of permanent gullibility. They think they can defeat the truth by simply ignoring it.

Unfortunately for them, while their dishonesty makes grift, corruption, and cronyism all but guaranteed, their stupidity makes it impossible to hide.