Greetings! My name is Corey Jacobson and I am the Plantain’s new food critic covering the Miami Metropolitan Area. I am a recent transplant from SF (Editor’s Note: “San Francisco”) and just moved to Miami (Editor’s Note: “Pompano Beach”) last week. As a Miamian now I take great pride in eating at local restaurants that showcase Miami’s (Editor’s Note: Broward or maybe West Palm…I don’t really know where the line is) diverse (Editor’s Note: White) LatinX (Editor’s Note: Very White) flavors.

Mi Amor (Editor’s Note: Oh god), if you are looking for great LatinX flavors (Editor’s Note: He’s my wife’s cousin and his wife left him after he got laid off. You see why I had to hire him, right?) you need to look no further than the Chili’s on State Road 7 in Parkland in Miami (Editor’s Note: That’s not even in Parkland! That’s in Boca in Miami!) (Editor’s Editor’s Note: I mean Boca in not Miami). Now as we all know, chilies are a traditional LatinX food, and Chili’s in Parkland (Editor’s Note: Boca) delivers on those muy caliente traditional diverse flavors we all expected when we moved from the Bay to Miami. (Editor’s Note: Fuck this guy). The menu is full of authentic Latinx staples such as potato skins, sliders, mozzarella sticks, and my favorite: the Latinx Quinoa bowl with corn, edamame, and what I thought was a mole sauce at first but actually was just balsamic dressing. Yum!

I know what you’re thinking: Will I be able to order at the Chili’s in Parkland (Editor’s Note: Boca) if I don’t habla Spanish? Emphatically yes! I was pleasantly surprised when what I assume is my LatinX waitress Makenzie spoke near-perfect English. (Editor’s Note: No LatinX has ever been named Makenzie) (Editor’s Editor’s Note: I’m sorry I used LatinX. I don’t know what the rules are anymore). In fact, when I was there, alone since my wife left me at the start of the pandemic for someone who made her feel “like more than a fucking doormat”, I found that Makenzie and I really started to hit it off. She is a student at a University in Miami (Editor’s Note: She goes to FAU) with an undeclared major and showed me the type of basic human attention I found I really respond to as a lonely man and have no choice but to interpret as sexual interest. (Editor’s Note: She works for tips).

As I finished up my meal with a traditional LatinX dessert of a chocolate lava cake topped with deep-fried onions, I asked Makenzie whether I could have her number because I thought we shared a real connection. She told me that I was old enough to be her father and that she was just being nice and asked me whether I wanted to buy some molly. (Editor’s Note: Aw, pal). Slightly embarrassed I agreed and bought some pills from her boyfriend “T” who seems like a real swell guy who makes what I assume is a nice living selling drugs from the parking lot of the Parkland (Editor’s Note: Boca) Chili’s because he had a pretty supped-up Accord (Editor’s Note: Those aren’t even that expensive).

Anyway, for a great and healthy LatinX meal go to Chili’s and order the quinoa! And look, I’m trying to put myself out there so if you know anyone who might be interested in going on a date with a hip 40-something Miami local (Editor’s Note: Pompano Beach) please send me a message on LinkedIn.

Editor’s Note: I know. I should fire Corey because this article is total shit but he’s family and going through a lot and gave me the $250 worth of Molly he bought from T.

Hey guys (and girls!), Matty here. As you may have heard I’m going through a bit of turmoil right now, but just like Jesus, my newly adopted son, I think things will work out for old Matt Gaetz.

To cut to the chase, yes I am being investigated for some hardly illegal political crimes like “human trafficking” and “rape”, but I want you all to know that I am definitely not guilty. Look at my face, does this look like the face of someone who would pay for sex with a 17-year-old?

Exactly!

Since the allegations against me became public my social calendar has cleared up some and I am frankly grateful for the extra time I have been given to spend with my children Nester, Jesus, George Lopez, Wilfredo, Enrique Marsalas, Tito Gordo, Lil’ Marco, and James Franco Rodriguez. These little guys are my rocks and I couldn’t stand up against these human trafficking allegations without my family. Goddammit, I love those little Mexicans or whatever.

But family isn’t everything and, to be honest, I don’t understand a thing any of those guys say so I am also pleased to announce that I have joined The Plantain as its official youth coordinator. This role combines my passions for connecting with Florida’s youth and being paid in Venmos that the IRS will never find out about.

As the Plantain’s Youth Coordinator my goal is to help them engage younger readers and expand the reach of their website beyond Florida.

I know this may seem like an odd role for someone like me, but if you think about it it actually makes a lot of sense. After all, who better to reach children beyond state lines than good old Matty Gaetz?

Excelsior!
Matty Gaetz
Youth Coordinator for The Plantain/Not A Rapist

Your abuela swore he saw the future, and while Walter Mercado passed away last year, a Netflix documentary about his life – Mucho Mucho Amor – has been streamed on repeat in every Cuban house since its release in July.

But how can you succinctly explain Walter Mercado to your sorority sisters before they come over for your family’s ‘coronavirus can’t happen to them’ party?

Here are some quick answers you can give to Rebecca and Hillary so they don’t make a fool of themselves by confusing him with Blanche from the Golden Girls when they see your Abuela watching VHS tapes of his show she has had since the 80’s.

Who is Walter Mercado?
Walter Mercado was a TV astrologer who owned a lot of capes. He has been on TV since it was invented and could predict the future in a vague sort of way.

What is an Astrologer?
An astrologer is, generally speaking, a con-artist. Not to be confused with an “astronomer,” which is a scientist. Neil Degrasse Tyson is an astronomer, but that lady who your Tia Larissa gives $40 to once every month that told her to break up with her boyfriend is an astrologer.

So Walter Mercado was a con-artist?
You shut your mouth. Walter Mercado was a national treasure who has brought untold joy and entertainment to Cuban matriarchs for more than 50 years.

Oh okay, so your grandma likes him because he is Cuban?
No, Walter Mercado is a proud Puerto Rican. But every Spanish speaking country has basically claimed him as their own, so you’re sort of right. 

Are you sure he isn’t one of the Golden Girls?
Pretty sure, but I wouldn’t want to bet money on it.  

Con mucho, mucho amor.

What’s that mean? Why do you guys eat so much pork? Your cousin Pedro just kissed my cheek but like shouldn’t we be social distancing? Wait he just gave me his number, but like isn’t that his girlfriend in the corner? He’s asking me if I want to go outside and see the rims he just put on his Acura. What do I do?

Just go with it, Hillary. But if you do want to learn more about Walter Mercado, there’s a documentary debuting on Netflix July 8, 2020, that was made by a group of documentarians from Miami.




The Arnez family of Pinecrest wants you to know they are struggling just like the rest of the world. Since the pandemic, the family of four was forced to upgrade to a larger house because their Coral Gables home started to feel “a little too crowded.” Things only got worse when the sale of the Coral Gables home only came in at 10% above their asking price. But it wasn’t until all of their tenants in their Redlands investment property lost their jobs and they found out local restrictions made it damn near impossible to evict them for non-payment that the Arnez family decided they needed to be proactive about their finances.

“This Coronavirus is just so inconvenient,” said Zachary Arnez, an insurance litigator. “On top of everything else, because I make several hundred thousand dollars a year, we didn’t even qualify for the stimulus money. Once again, the Federal Government leaves the upper-middle-upper class people like me out to dry.”

Mr. Arnez told the Plantain that “instead of complaining about things like those liberals in Congress,” he decided to call his colleague Brett, a corporate tax lawyer, and had him incorporate his family as a limited liability corporation. “It’s one of the best financial decisions I’ve ever made outside of my uncle having founded Bacardi.”

“We’re technically a regional airline now” laughed his wife as she poured a 2PM glass of wine. The Arnez Family Airline, LLC, is now set to receive $4.6 million in government subsidies, which they plan to help pay for food and shelter…on their upcoming winter vacation in Fiji, as well as pick up several distressed properties once the housing market collapses.

We asked Mr. Arnez how he and his family could just call themselves an airline all of a sudden. “We’re an airline, you can check the records,” he told us. We asked him if he were really an airline then where did he fly and where are his planes. “We have no planes or flights scheduled,” he said before reasoning “that’s why this bailout is so important for us.”

The Plantain tried to speak with Zachary’s colleague, Brett Wilkinson, himself a Panamanian chartered cruise vessel receiving over $2.5 million in government bailout money, but he refused to sit down with us without a retainer. He did tell us, however, that because he is technically flagged in Panama, he is in the process of applying for several grants set up for Hispanic businesses.

Author’s Note: Shortly after turning in this article, I was fired from this job without severance. Thankfully, I make less than $75,000 a year and would be eligible for an additional one-time payment of $1,200, assuming Congress will pass such help, which they won’t. My rent is $2,400 a month.

Author’s Second Note: On the advice of counsel, I have incorporated as the Kennedy Center for The Arts.

Rabbi Mordechai Shalomberg-Deckchair of Temple Beth Um told his congregation that reports of iguanas raining down from the sky is indeed a sign that the people of earth were experiencing a new plague from god.”What many so-called “scientists,” mostly goyum, say is just a consequence of the cold weather freezing the cold blooded reptiles’ central nervous systems into immobilization is actually, according to the Talmud, evidence that Hashem is very angry at us and wants us to repent.

“Aw, come on!” said synagogue attendee Benja Saferstein, who only went to this morning’s services because he’s visiting his parents from his home in San Francisco. “What could god be so angry about again? The guy has everything?”

Rabbi Shalomberg-Deckchair contemplated the young Juden’s question for a moment before responding, “Mostly the shellfish, Benja! As they say at Yeshiva, ‘If you eat shellfish, you’re being selfish!”, said the Rabbi to his congregation who chuckled politely.

Rabbi Shalomberg-Deckchair said the apocalypse is expected to last a few more weeks, with high chances of dead oxen, boils, and several nights of intense darkness. He said that some of the more nasty plagues may be avoided through a healthy donation to the Temple’s B’Nai Brit Youth Drive.

Miami-Dade government suspended all government operations this morning and announced it would do so until the weather reached at least 70 degrees. “It’s just too damn cold to do anything,” said Mayor Daniella Levine-Cava from underneath three blankets in her bed while The View played in the background. The Mayor says once the Government reopens, she plans to enact legislation that would prepare the County for future cold fronts by providing educational services to the community to teach people how to dress for the weather and how to use their home’s heater. 

Residents around South Florida are reacting to the cold weather change by shivering uncontrollably. Except Dave, who insists he isn’t cold and even wore shorts to work today to prove the point. “It isn’t so bad. I don’t know what people are complaining about,” said Dave as he brought a cup of iced coffee to his blue lips. 

Breaking news out of Venezuela: Hugo Chavez is still dead. 

Despite conflicting reports, the A.P. confirms that dictator Hugo Chavez is still dead, although he is feeling better and better each day. The news, which is still developing, has been confirmed by several independent sources who report that they have spoken to Hugo Chavez since his death and can confirm that he is, in fact, still dead. 

The Plantain attempted to ask Hugo Chavez about accusations set forth by Donald Trump’s lawyers today that he conspired to steal the election for Joe Biden, but has not been able to reach him for a statement on account of he’s dead.

More as this story develops. 

It’s GIVE MIAMI DAY! This means you’re being pressured to donate your hard-earned money to a bunch of charities and non-profits who want to selfishly spend it on making the community you live in a better place. Those jerks. 

Last year, Give Miami Day raised over $14.4 million for local non-profits, and this year, the communists behind that plot expect to raise even more. To get to the bottom of this, the Plantain searched through the more than 900 nonprofits raising money through Give Miami Day to find the worst ways you can spend your money: 

1) Zapatos para pata sucios – Established in 2014, this non-profit shovels money to popular Miami nightclubs and less popular gas stations, and provides shoes to pata sucias. “This is like a super important issue,” said a bunion on the bottom of a very attractive redhead’s left foot as she stumbled across Alton Road at 1:30 AM. 

2) Tyler’s Herros – This organization goes into high-income areas of Miami and replaces old Lebron Heat Jerseys with bootlegged Jimmy Butler and Tyler Herro jerseys. “This is great, I really needed a new jersey,” said Insurance broker Xavier Alvarez from the Miller’s Ale House in Pinecrest. “Thank you so much, this really helps our family,” added his wife, Camilla, telling us privately that the Lebron jersey didn’t actually fit Xavier anymore on account of all of their trips to Miller’s Ale House.

3) Sweaters for South Florida – This nonprofit was established by your coworker who insists anything under 77 degrees is “sweater weather.” Founder Luca Johannson says that though SFSF will do absolutely nothing at all (so don’t even ask) to help reduce South Florida’s homelessness problem, they will make sure that all of the homeless people that line South Florida’s streets are balmy and never even the slightest bit cold.  

4) The Gloria Estefan Medical Fund – The Miami Icon and Stage-4 Conga survivor has set up a fund to help those diagnosed with the fire of desire turn the beat around and get back on their feet. 

Want to donate? Great! Head to the Give Miami Day Nonprofit Finder and find the one you’d like to donate to.

We promise the ones we mentioned are totally in there. You can’t find them? Keep looking. Actually – go make some coffee – there are over 900 nonprofits participating in Give Miami Day 2020, so this might take a while.

DONATE TO GIVE MIAMI DAY

Abigail Braman woke up Monday morning at 7:45 AM and spent several minutes staring at the ceiling contemplating her life decisions before preparing herself for another day of work. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she reached over to grab her cell phone from her nightstand and deleted the seven to 40 pieces of junk mail (mostly from Williams Sonoma and the Democratic Party) that accumulates in her inbox every night. After doom-scrolling through the President’s latest effort to steal the election, she noticed something unusual. “Oh my god!” said Ms. Braman out loud to herself as she stared at her home screen. “It’s sweater weather!”

The 27-year-old paralegal jolted out of her bed and ran outside to see if it was true. As soon as stepped outside, the crisp air smacked her face. She took a deep breath before getting nervous and putting on her mask. Still, she enjoyed the sounds of birds chirping. Had they always sounded so beautiful? It was 71 degrees in Miami. Today was going to be a wonderful day.

Ms. Braman could hardly contain herself as she searched for the perfect outfit. As she reached toward the back of her closet to search for her winter clothing, she thought about how bad this year had been. The election and the pandemic was bad enough, but Miami also had six months of unbearable heat that brought a deluge of feminine dampness, hair frizz, and mosquito bites with it. But not today.

Abigail dressed in a sleek black long sleeve thermal from Banana Republic that she layered with an opened red flannel jacket from H&M and a green camouflage army jacket, also from Banana Republic. Before she left for work, she grabbed a gray checkered scarf a knitted American flag beanie she bought several years ago for a “girls trip” to New York. As she took one last look at herself in the mirror before she left, she smiled. “You look cute!” she said to herself before taking a selfie of her outfit and texting her mother in Virginia.

On her way to work, she stopped at a Starbucks for a celebratory Peppermint Hot Chocolate. It was 75 degrees. Abigail stood in line and admired the very expensive Canada Goose jacket worn by the woman in front of her. “Starbucks always tastes better in a red cup!” she posted to Twitter while she waited an unreasonably long time for her drink. They had forgotten to put peppermint in it. She considered asking them to remake it but didn’t want to be difficult.

When she arrived at her downtown Miami office at 9:00 AM, it was 79 degrees. The lawyers in the office had been allowed to work from home since March, but since she was only a paralegal she was still required to come to the office.

“Can you believe this weather?” asked a lightly sweating Abigail to the office assistant Nancy Randazzo as she removed her scarf and beanie.

“This is why I live in Miami!” said Abigail through her mask before returning to her desk and pondering, as she often does, whether she should have moved to California with Heather and David after college. “What’s so great about San Francisco anyway?” she thought to herself before scrolling through Heather’s Instagram for 11 minutes. 

At noon, Abigail joined Nancy and Javier, one of her firm’s office service workers, for lunch at a nearby Greek restaurant across. They had agreed that the three of them would be a “pod” so they could eat together, but Javier didn’t seem to be taking his pod responsibilities seriously and had developed a sniffle. Still, Abigail didn’t want to be rude and say anything.

During lunch, Nancy gave Abigail and Javier a comprehensive update on the difficulty she was having homeschooling her son and Javier gave a detailed account of the latest infection rates before coughing for several seconds into a napkin and blaming it on his allergies.

The restaurant itself was decent, although more expensive than anticipated. They charged for soda refills, which Abigail felt should have really been mentioned at some point. As she, Nancy, and Javier walked back to their office, it was 84 degrees. “Still sweater weather,” she said to herself as she wiped away a few beads of sweat that developed on her upper lip.

For the next several hours, Abigail alternated between proofreading a long brief for one of her firm’s partners and scrolling through Pinterest for pictures of architecturally significant gingerbread houses. At 3:15 PM, she received a phone call from a lawyer named Steven who asked that she leave the office to pick up a docket of files from the Circuit Court. She redressed in her winter outfit and began to walk the six blocks to the Court. It was 88 degrees.

When she arrived at the courthouse steps, she was out of breath and could feel sweat dripping down her back. Entering the Clerk’s office, she removed her beanie to reveal a mess of oily hair that was half tamped to her head. By the time she left the Court for the return trip, it was 91 degrees. It started to rain down on her when she was a block away from her office. 

The rain had dampened the papers she had retrieved from the Court. When she returned to her office, she had a message from Steven: “Abi, it turns out the files were online so I didn’t actually need you to go,” said the message without a thank you or apology. As she settled back at her desk she noticed her own smell. Luckily, she kept a travel-size bottle of baby powder to combat groin sweat, a remedy she was worried may cause cervical cancer but willing to risk it today considering the odor that had developed.

At 5:00 PM she left her office. The temperature had dropped to 89 degrees. As Abigail sat in traffic, she started to once again thumb through Heather’s Instagram. “I can’t believe she didn’t ask me to be a bridesmaid,” said Abigail to herself as she turned her car’s air conditioning higher. “It’s so god damn hot,” she defeatedly admitted. 

After an hour and fifteen minutes, Abi arrived at her home. She removed the soaking thermal and flannel she had on all day and placed her jacket back into her closet. As she resigned herself to her couch for the night, she started watching a documentary about the murder of JonBenet Ramsey before deciding to see what The Walking Dead was all about. After two episodes, she didn’t see the big deal and put on a TBS marathon of a Friends re-runs. She fell asleep about halfway through “The One Where Joey and Rachel Kiss with a lollipop in her mouth.”

She woke up at 1:45 AM. aAfter washing a few dishes, she returned to her bed at 2:20 AM. She briefly considered showering but was too tired and decided she would just wash her armpits, neck, thighs, and knees with a wet terrycloth in the morning.

As Abigail Braman plugged in her phone for the night and laid back in her bed she checked the next morning’s weather report:

Low of 87 degrees/High of 92.

“Fuck.”

Freelance journalist Jason Ireland was killed in his home Tuesday for reportedly publishing an article that contained several comma splice errors, authorities confirmed.

“We’re all very sad to hear about Jason”, his editor, Nathanial Masserati, told the Plantain. “But he was always putting commas on the outside of quotation marks like a real twat and was also inconsistent with how he used commas to set off proper nouns, so he deserved it.”

Mr. Ireland is survived by his wife, Evangeline, and son Oscar. He enjoyed watching baseball which was his favorite sport and leaving commas out of sentences with non-restrictive elements.

Mr. Ireland was killed by a longtime fan of his writing who noticed several grammatical errors in his latest article as well as an incorrect factual statement that arguably undermined one of the article’s premises. When his killer, let’s call him Carl with a K, discovered these errors and learned he could not cancel any subscription because Mr. Ireland wrote for free he decided to murder him. “Your writing doesn’t always read like you think it sounds in your head”, were reportedly the last words Mr. Ireland heard before being killed.

“His writing could be sloppy”, Nathanial also noted, telling this Reporter, that he occasionally would also add unnecessary commas, too. “I would send him primers on basic comma usage but he kept saying he was too busy to read them on account of all the writing I needed him to do since he was our only writer.”

When asked how he thought Mr. Ireland wanted to be remembered Nathanial said as someone extremely passive-aggressive that was willing to write an entire article using pseudonyms just to prove a point even though he had a pile of more pressing work he should be doing.”