Late afternoon view looking westward "up" the Government Cut waterway toward the Port of Miami with the Miami skyline visible, as seen from South Pointe Park, Miami Beach, Florida,
5:36 p.m., April 24, 2022
The outdoor pictures in this entry were all taken by me this past Sunday in the South Pointe area of Miami Beach including in South Pointe Park along the Government Cut waterway.
For those not captioned, the file name contains place and time info.
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Wee hours Thursday morning.
Following the lengthy entry I composed and posted yesterday, I wasn't going to post any new entries for several days.
However, that previous entry was a politically-topical one and vied in my own head for a personal themed one. Additionally, I had those Sunday pictures ready to go. So, I opted to write this entry -- but with the proviso that this will be my last posting for a full week or so.
As for my that entry, it's clear the Google "algorithmic justice" suppression algorithms are working overtime since the always paltry number of views on my posts -- almost always via image searches -- is less than half normal and still in the single digits. Good.
OK, what started out a single image resulted in quite a detour...
The small bar that is part of the Front Porch Cafe hotel restaurant, Miami Beach, Fla.,, 5:56 p.m., April 23, 2022
The Front Porch Cafe is located at the north end of the Entertainment District strip (about five blocks from my apartment) in what is awkwardly called the Crowne Plaza South Beach - Z Ocean Hotel. I'm sure there is some corporate legal reason for the combo name. And I couldn't determine what the "Z" stands for.
Below are some website images of the place.
The cafe includes an enclosed outdoor bar area with a broad roofed walkway ("breezeway") that merges into the actual hotel lobby, which also has Collins Avenue entrance. As for the hotel, there is a whole part that, obviously, that I did not see including a pool and roofdeck.
Collins Avenue entrance to the Z Ocean Hotel, Miami Beach, Fla.
The decor is, for want of a better term, post-modernistic modern. What's more the restaurant and hotel lobby restrooms are in a strange little alcoved area with doors requiring numerical codes to enter. The general layout is a bit odd.
I had to ask in the lobby itself with someone who appeared to be a hotel manager seated behind a Covid-era weird and ultimately useless Plexiglas arrangement on his otherwise open-air desk.
Lobby entrance into the Z Ocean Hotel, Miami Beach, Fla.
Anyway, the small indoor part of the cafe where is located this bar has a curious retro feel of a South Florida diner or lunch counter back in the 1960s. And the menu quite good and varied and includes an unusual six-hour window on the lunch part. This was the first time I went there -- but I'm definitely going to go again.
Above: An aerial view of the Z Ocean Hotel looking south down Collins Avenue. My apartment building is visible in this image, but you have to magnify to see it (see image directly below).
Above: My apartment buidling is the structure in the middle -- a very light turquoise hue -- with a weird cupola resembling a lantern. Also visible are the twin towers of The Continuum. They're just referred to as "north" and "south" tower rather than what I think would be funnier: Space and Time. (South Pointe Tavern is located in an extension of the base of the south tower.)
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OK, finally to the main part of the entry ...
For starters, I need to note that I've been having a real psychological barrier to composing an entry.
Actually, it's more a weird mental paralysis and torpor in which I've been ensnared for a few days. This has rendered any sort of work or blogging action nearly impossible, although I managed to get the entry posted yesterday and, hopefully, this one, too.
Gusty wind off the ocean blowing through the coconut palms in Lummus Park, Miami Beach, Fla., 7:40 p.m., April 23, 2022
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Related to this, I've been in a terrible mood the past several days -- just filled with existential angst, worry, and almost numbing despair that my life is basically stuck and just winding down.
You'd think a life down here in Miami Beach, Florida would be conducive to a much greater level of happiness.
Far more than in that hateful, vicious, "problematic," and all-around spirit-murdering shit-hole of Washington, D.C.
Yes, Washington, D.C., where ONLY WOKE Death in (to borrow a phrase) MONSTROUS INFINITY abounds (in between endless violent street crime that Mayor McCheese and the Communists who run the collapsing place eagerly stoke).
The cultic WOKE and "genderqueer" shit is in between, of course, endless violent street crime that Mayor McCheese and the Communists who run the collapsing place eagerly stoke).
The Carnival Horizon mega-cruise ship heads out of the Port of Miami via the Government Cut into the open Atlantic Ocean, Miami Beach, Fla., 5:05 p.m., April 24, 2022
Unlike recent Sunday evenings, only one of these cruise ships left the Port rather than three, four, or five such vessels. This particular cruise ship created a mini-water drawback along the edge of the rocks before it came flooding back in.
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Part of it is the realization (yet again) that I have nothing to do in life outside of the very narrowly prescribed things that I do such as a job that will likely last anywhere from one to ten years and a bunch of Sisyphus-like daily chores.
I go nowhere, or rather, I rarely go anywhere. Related to that, I do nothing, or seldom do anything.
Naturally, I have no relationships. I've lost pretty much every friendship I've had (both because of my political change and because I just don't get along well with people). This includes erstwhile close friends.
I'm increasingly reclusive and desiring mostly to stay inside, especially during the week. Indeed, on Tuesday, I never let my apartment except to go to the mezzanine level trash chute.
Morning aerial view looking north up Ocean Drive across the Entertainment District of Miami Beach
This picture has to have been taken in the past four months or so since Ocean Drive was only reopened to traffic about six months ago and the bicycle lane was painted bright green thereafter.
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I'm also having ongoing financial issues trying to pay excessive credit card debt -- one of which is under control (down to $2,000) but another of which is about to explode (to $3,200) because I'm paying for my mom's five-day visit here at an expensive hotel. It wouldn't be a problem except I have overspent for the past 13 months living here.
Despite earning a decent income, I typically run out of cash by the end of each biweekly pay period. Part of this is due to the fact that you can't go any restaurant or bar here in Miami Beach without easily spending $100 as high prices combine with the built-in tipping to invariably produce doubling tipping.
Deeply frustrating is the endless cycle of pay/over-expense/rent/pay-over-expense/pay/rent/over-expense. It's also so goddamn pointless. Doing nothing, I feel like have nothing -- and nobody. My only real family I have are my parents -- one 900 miles away in Easton, Md., and another 250 miles away in Flagler Beach, Fla., plus, I guess, my uncle ~1,090 miles away in South Amboy, N.J.
Now, I have to be careful a little (OK, a lot) careful here because it's quite possible that the BIG Y'EYEMAH is still -- even after all these years -- tuning in and checking out the agonies. And nothing is more personally offensive to me than knowing how much she's titilated by that fiesta de failure. Spontaneous generation failure.
Think of Ziggy, which my fatphobia fears: Spheroidal body and face, the latter with two dots for eyes, tiny mouth, and no chin. And, of course, an all-pervasive sense of exhaustion and total failure.
It's all OBESITY, PASSIVITY, FAILURE, and a weirdly smug SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS. Just sitting there motionless in poverty, loveless (and, of course, given the gay thing, sexless misery) in some hellish Ultraviolet Blue State urban ghetto dystopia of violent crime, despair, addiction, and government dependency.
Obessed with Covid thanks to a steady diet of garbage leftwing propaganda, we're all double masked, triply vaxxed, even while enjoying our fourth and totally meaningless Covid "breakthrough" case. But above all else, we sit there all morbidly obese with the fat oozing like twin lava lamps.
And lots of hippo-like methane outbursts following a dinner of corned creamy cheese, cheap meat, processed garbage, too much bread, maybe a baby carrot, and massive amounts of refined sugar in chocolates and cakes -- all "washed down" with a "COKE, PLEASE..."
Matters aren't helped by the fact that I'm in the worst shape ever in my miserable life, and it's only deteriorating. I look like shit -- ugly, fat, short, deeply unpleasant, close-cropped white hair because anything else is a bizarre fiber optic lamp-like. And all of that APPEALS to the BIG Y'EYEMAH in her Ziggy-like cooing way.
I like having stunted, neutered, and losers as friends! We can all live on my Island of Misfit Humans! YAY!
And watching it all, Ma Wide Spot chuckles warmly with the smug wisdom of the ages while Pa Walrus makes snorting sounds while verbalizing like Mr. Snuffleupagus, only nasty:
Well, who the HELL invited you to ANOTHER GODDAMN Easter Sunday dinner ANYWAY??
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One of the few days a week that I do leave the apartment for an extended period is Sunday, and it usually involves a visit down by the South Pointe breakwater.
But my attempt to do that this past Sunday was ruined because days and days of a strong onshore flow combined with that fucking endlessly metastasizing sargassum "seaweed" algae.
The result were massive piles of that devil's grass along the entire length of South Beach all the way down to the rocks. Not only was the beach unusable, but the ocean itself was filled with that shit out to about 200 yards.
It was also high tide, so the heaps of that demonic weed were right at the water's edge and created literally a several inch drop off to the flat, wet sand. (It was so ugly and I just didn't want to take any pictures.)
Because of the beach and surf conditions, I spent about 2-1/2 hours seated on the rocks of the breakwater along Government Cut that forms the southern edge of South Pointe Park.
I sat in one place briefly until a young BIPOC person started stood near me smoking one of those funky cigarettes that smells a bit like pot but not quite -- I hate all those smells.
So, I moved about a hundred yards farther west and found an even better spot where the rocks sort of terraced down to the water. The tide was high, so the water was easily reachable. Also, the breakwater itself and the motion of the water and just everything else resulted in a near total absence of sargassum.
I actually managed to get all the way into the water twice. I had my backpack with me and towels and plastic bags and so forth.
Thereafter, I went to South Pointe Tavern for a couple of hours before walking home.
The day was windy and mostly cloudy, although it sort of cleared up before I left (as the evening progressed).
NWS NDFD U.S. Lower 48 surface weather features and type/likelihood of precipitation, looped as shown,
06Z 28 April - 00Z 30 April 2022
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This shitty weather has been due to a relatively elongated (highly meridional) trough over Eastern North America that has been nearly continuously in place since January with cold front after cold front "reloading" the pattern. (Maybe something's goin' on with Greenland??)
While this produces the cool, showery, and hoodie-wearing weather back in the Mid-Atlantic that I like, down here it results in a dull, flat pattern down here with a steady (and sometimes gusty) easterly or northeasterly wind and low-topped flattened cumulus clouds below a much deeper rather dry layer.
NWS/WPC day 7 surface weather features for Lower 48 U.S. map, valid 12Z 04 May 2022
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Daytime surface conditions have featured highs in the 80°F (coastal) to 85°F (inland) range and dew points unmoved from a narrow band of 64°F to 68°F. The 564-dekameter (dkm or dam) thickness has been more or less parked over the peninsula.
Looking ahead, the 15-day operational GFS has the 570-dam finally persistently over or north of the Miami area and that troughy pattern dissipating. This is due to the seasonal change -- now on the cusp of May -- and warming atmosphere.
This should start to usher in the summer/humid season with 85°F to 88°F highs and 75°F dew points with deep moisture and the big, puffy convective clouds that get extra lift from the daily sea breeze fronts.
GFS 0Z 28 April 2022 showing 6-hr average precip (mm/hr), MSLP (hPa), and 1000-500 mb thicknesses (dam), valid hour 204, 12Z 06 May 2022, as displayed by Tropical Tidbits site
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Before I wrap up this entry, I feel compelled to detour into some political commentary. So, let's start with this Laura Ingraham "The Angle" commentary from last night:
Ingraham: Dems lose their cool; "Conservatives have always been the real rebels, refusing to accept a cram down of policies and trends that don’t work now and never worked before."
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Oh, and this also needs to be noted ...
Above and below: Excellent tweets by Saagar Enjeti on the racist blood libel smears of the Big Media complex, specifically, its Washington (Bezos Billionaire) Post component, but it's true of all the Left. This is related to the fact that Elon Musk purchased Twitter with the intention of returning the platform to its free speech roots.
Because of that fact, the degenerate Bezos Billionaire Washington Post -- the both the synecdoche and metonymy of the "Washington Consensus" -- is in one of its episodic manic moral panic frenzies.
The Post -- as a monstrous rag of Oligarchical Deep State intrigue with an overlay of Social Justice -- has been prone to these spasms for decades. This was true long before Gargoyle Bezos, a Dark Reality parasitic version of a true innovator and great man such as Elon Musk, bought the paper from the Graham Family Evil Empire.
Above: Jesse Watters gives a nice summary of the Leftwing Big Media freakout over Elon Musk's purchase and why.
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In my own 28 rotten, miserable, wasted, and bitterly regretted years in and and around fucking Washington, D.C., and paying attention to the news and Postie garage -- back to its 1990s halycon days -- I recall six major moral panics of these wealthy tools of Oligarchy:
The 1998 Clinton / Lewinsky affair (at the time, the Sally Quinn dinner party crowd had an intense hatred of both Bill and Hillary); the post-9/11 Bush worshipful hagiography; the grotesque Iraq War cheer-leading; and the anti-Trump monomania including (considered separately) the RUSSIA, RUSSIA, RUSSIA hoax and the Charlottesville "Very Fine People" hoax. More recently (past two months), it has been ALL UKRAINE-RUSSIA WARMONGERING.
Now add a seventh moral panic involving the ongoing anti-Musk spastic gyrations and vomiting up bile by Max Boot, Jennifer Rubin, Ruth "Mother" Marcus with her post-Fred Hiatt little editorial board shop of horrors (the cabal that sends "signals" to the whole Gang of 500), and the Post's full set of lunatic wokester staff writers.
When the dirty Bezos Post rag has one of these spasms, it involves the entire Borg of reporters, the editorial board, and the full op-ed "stable" of Military/Industrial Complex apologists, think tank propagandists, and billionaire foundation-funded NGO sorts. All start speaking with the single voice of the Deep State / Illiberal Left Hive Mind Collective.
Oh, and it goes without saying that the New York Times no different even if owned "only" by a near-billionaire publishing family rather than one of a half-dozen world-spanning oligarchs.
OK, it's time to wrap up this entry. As a final point, I would like to reiterate that my next planned entry will not be for at least a full week -- so mid-to-late next week.
Signing off for now. Good Night. And Good Morning.
--Regulus
