Memo to Vergie Arthur:

Memo to Vergie Arthur:

Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up.

What kind of dignity is this for your daughter?! What kind of mother are you to advocate disinterring your grandchild, and making your daughter stay in cold storage for a month after her death, so you can win a spitting match? You know your kid wanted to be buried next to her son in the Bahamas. If she wanted to be in Mexia, Texas, she would have shipped him there. But she didn't. She buried him in the Bahamas. And everyone knows she wanted to be buried next to him.

Even you.

What the hell is your problem?

This is my favorite quote,

''She will need a passport to go and visit the grave, that's not what our country is based on,'' Mandel said."

No, it's not, Roberta Mandel. In fact, it has NOTHING TO DO WHAT WITH THIS COUNTRY WAS BASED ON. PUT YOUR FLAG AND BRASS BAND AWAY.

Don't you want some closure? You lost. Fair n' square. Seidlin, although a nut, passed the buck to someone who made the right decision. Now, the ladylike and graceful thing to do would be to make sure your passport's up-to-date, and visit your estranged daughter's grave once every never, like everyone else does.

You're trash. And your handling of this situation just proves it. Sit down, shut up, and go away. You've milked your fifteen minutes in the worst way possible. This just proves what kind of mother you were. And I'll pray you don't get your way on this one.

An Ode to Le Sandwicherie:

Between Washington and Collins on 14th is a lunchcounter.

Really, it's simply a lunch counter running along a filthy alleyway, across from Mac's Club Deuce. There's a gas station on the other side of the alleyway, and Taco San Loco, guaranteed to have you spraying fire out your rear in 30 minutes or less, or your next meal is free, on the other.

Le Sandwicherie has had to lock their bathroom, because of the filthy, filthy bums that inhabit the area. (The alley.)

(If you're ever struck by the Beauty of South Beach [which you shouldn't be, because it's a pretty awful looking place, if you ask me...] you should stroll down the piss-and-hot-trash reeking alleys between Ocean and Collins and Washington... it'll fix you of that particular delusion.)

Le Sandwicherie is a lunch counter, but it makes one of the best sandwiches in Miami. Besides that one particular Deli on Key Biscayne that made a pretty kick ass sandwich too, but I'm digressing...

They serve Orangina and by day their sandwiches are just fine, but after a night of drinking, a turkey breast sandwich with cornichons, camembert, blood red tomatoes, olives, and their signature vinegrette dressing on a crusty baguette, is less a sandwich, and more a religious experience.

Any beach local (which I am allowed to call myself, and will soon be again calling myself) knows of certain places on the beach that we don't advertise to the Tourists who come down. We don't tell them about Joe Allen. We don't tell them about Pita Loca. We don't tell them about Wet Willie's Nachos, or the IceBox's brunch, and we don't tell them about Le Sandwicherie. We keep "The Room" a secret, we're glad Lime is on the wrong side of the Beach, we don't let on about the Argentinian Bakery on Lincoln between Alton and West, and we don't tell them about Le Sandwicherie. Or Gino's Pizza. And I, for one, will never let on about A La Folie.

But.

If you're in the area, and you're drunk. And you will be, because 14th and Washington is the center of South Beach, you should first go to Mac's Club Deuce, to make sure you're really loaded. The friendly old blonde broad behind the Counter will make you a drink in a glass that's been behind that bar for sixty years. It won't be good, and the tonic will be sort of flat, but that's okay. The Deuce is the Grande Dame of Beach Drinkery, where happy hour starts at 8 a.m. When you're done, amble out and stumble across the street, veering right. You should fall into Le Sandwicherie.

Get a Turkey Camembert. Or a saucison sec. On baguette. With vinegrette.

Close your eyes. And you'll see the face of God.

Hatin' Tuesdys

Today's Hatin' Tuesdys involves a Legal Treatise. There are many famous, old stodgy treatises. "Powell on Real Property," "Collier on Bankruptcy," "Moore's Federal Practice," "Chitty on Contracts," blah blah...

I hate the name "Chisum on Patents."

Know why? Because what does "Chisum" sound like?

Exactly.

And then I imagine a wall full of Chisum on Patents, dripping with spooge.

And it's gross.

So, that's why I hate Chisum on Patents. I'll never use it anyway (probably) because I don't do Patent law... but I hate the name nonetheless. I also hate Chitty, but that's because that name is reserved for movies about flying cars.