It was 25 years ago this week that Hurricane Andrew touched down in South Florida, leaving a wake of destruction in his path that impacted a generation of South Floridians. “Andrew was one of the most important moments in South Florida’s history,” said your friend’s mother unsolicited on Facebook.

But 25 years later, Andrew has retreated from the spotlight and is no longer the powerful storm of his youth. Now, the embattled gale finds himself in a tropical depression after years of missed opportunities and poor decisions.

In an exclusive interview with the Plantain, Hurricane Andrew detailed his journey from a once great windstorm, heralded by many as the “Storm of the Century”, to an unemployed and highly disorganized storm system living back in his childhood bedroom.

“After I hit it big in Miami in 1992, I decided to test my luck and move in a north-westerly direction toward Louisianna with the ultimate forecast of reaching New York,” said Andrew. “I never came close.”

“Andrew makes a mess out of everything in his path,” said his father, Dr. Lawrence Appelbaum. “I told him he would never make it to New York. But he went anyway and ended up calling me and his mother a few days later to pick him up from Tennessee. When we arrived he was covered in blow and in hysterics. He’s been living here ever since.”

Hurricane Andrew says he is uninterested in following his father’s career in orthopedics, or pursuing any career for that matter. “It’s not like I can just go and get a normal job at CVS or something. I’m Hurricane Andrew, everyone knows that. It would be humiliating if somebody saw me bagging groceries or working in a hospital or something,” said the storm. “I just need to focus on myself a little more before I’m ready to make a comeback and move out.”

Although he maintains he is not prepared to join the workforce, Hurricane Andrew acknowledged the strain that his lifestyle has put on his relationship with his father. “We’ve grown pretty distant, sure, but I know he loves me. I guess I just wish I felt he loved me for something besides just being his son.”

When asked to respond, Dr. Appelbaum was dismissive of his son’s concerns, noting the large amounts of money he has spent on him over the last two decades and suggesting that his son earn his love and respect by working toward building a future for himself.”He was a category 5! A 5! Now what is he? He’s nothing.”

“Andrew has no ambition. None whatsoever,” continued his father. “Not like his sister Sandy, who made landfall in NY where she was accepted to Julliard to study dance. Now she’s married to a congressional staffer from Far Rockaway,” said Dr. Appelbaum with aplomb. “They wrote about their engagement in the New York Times!” he gushed.

“I know some will look at me and think I’ve wasted a good opportunity,” said Hurricane Andrew. “Maybe I have. But I’m going to get back on my feet. I know it.”

When asked where he saw himself in the future, the once great storm smirked to himself before answering: “Anywhere the wind blows.”

After the announcement that white nationalist Richard Spencer plans to appear at the University of Florida in September, some campus jean shorts enthusiasts rejoiced that they were no longer the most universally loathed group to be associated with the school.

“We weren’t sure Spencer was coming. He wanted to speak at Vanderbilt but had been waitlisted. Luckily, UF was his safety school,” said Truman T. Vinsant, president of the campus’s Jorts, Oakley Sunglasses and Flip Flops-with-Socks Coalition. “It will be nice to get the heat off of our backs for a minute.”

“I’m also looking forward to hearing Mr. Spencer speak,” said the young white man, which was initially surprising but made sense considering the man’s outfit, mullet and dead eyes.

On Sept. 12, media organizations are expected to descend upon Gainesville to document the hate speech/melee/complete shitshow of humanity, despite UF president Kent Fuchs’ plea for everyone to please stay the hell out of Gainesville.

The university has been on the national stage in recent years for mixed reasons, from multiple sports championships to spawning mediocre minor league baseball player Tim Tebow to said preoccupation with jorts.

However, jorts-wearers aren’t out of the woods yet. A producer for CNN told The Plantain she’s hoping to get footage of what she described as “the motherlode of human filth”: jorts-wearing neo-Nazis.
The Plantain attempted to introduce the CNN producer to Davis. However, he insisted that he wasn’t a “neo-Nazi” but rather a member of the “alt-right,” which he said was somehow different but couldn’t explain why.

By Manuel Del Fango IV & Milo

Beware, bloodsuckers: Miami-Dade County has a new weapon in its arsenal to combat the ever-growing hordes of mosquitoes responsible for spreading the Zika virus across South Florida.Beginning in August, the county began spraying lavender Fabuloso cleaning solution from airplanes in an effort to obliterate the local mosquito population once and for all.
Fabuloso, a flowery-smelling neon purple cleaning solution, is reputed by many area residents to cleanse any kind of malefactor present in a home, including bacteria, viruses, small insects, residue from gossipy visitors and evil spirits.
Miami-Dade County’s Mosquito Control Division spokeswoman Jessica Clark said Fabuloso is predicted to be the department’s most effective chemical yet.
“In our testing, as soon as the Fabuloso touched the mosquitoes, they immediately sizzled and melted into a tiny ball of insect guts and half-digested human blood,” Clark said. “We’re really excited about this.”
Eugenia Rodriguez, 82, of Miami’s West Flagler neighborhood, eagerly watched the sky as she awaited the latest spraying so she could wash her porch floor at no expense.
“I love all these new sprayings,” Rodriguez said as she eagerly held a wooden pole wrapped in an old towel. “My skin gets all tingly every time — from the excitement, I suppose.”
By Manuel Del Fango IV

People approach me several times a day to tell me that I look like someone else. It’s usually some actor from a show, or their cousin the podiatrist, or a sandwich they remember fondly. I guess I just have one of those faces.Occasionally I give into the compulsion to ask those people whether they meant the comparison as a compliment or in just a sort of observational ‘I enjoy hearing my thoughts spoken outload’ type of way and, if the latter, whether they ever felt attraction toward the actor, family member, or meal with whom they believe I look like. My inquiries are almost always met with a decisive “No!” followed by the jittering of their eyes in search of their husband or the waiter or a police officer who, I should note, I also look like. I told you, I just have one of those faces.
Being a man with the sort of familial movie star good looks of a pretty decent-for-the-price egg-salad sandwich (nothing to write home about, you know, but it won’t make you ill (which is more than you can say about some egg-salad sandwiches!)) has opened up a good number of doors for me. That may not seem impressive to you considering people will usually open up the door if you knock long enough, even if just to tell you to shove off before they call the police (who, as you will remember, I look like), but my universal appearance has allowed me to crash several high-profile parties and state dinners through the years by just simply showing up and waiting to look like someone else.
Most recently I went uninvited to a wedding where I was mistaken by all in attendance for the groom. Not wanting to disrupt the day’s events, but still quite hungry, I intended to stay only through the hors d’oeuvres, but became caught up in the excitement of my wedding day and continued the charade for much longer than anticipated: ultimately marrying the young bride and accompanying her to St. Croix for our honeymoon. The trip, perhaps predictably, hit a sour note when on our third night I confessed that I was not technically the man she intended to marry—a man who I have learned showed up to the church just a smidge late and, upon seeing his fiancé exchange nuptials with a person whom he believed to be himself, supposed he was having an out of body experience; a revelation that prompted him to leave the church in search of answers and walk around for a bit to ponder the meaning of life and whatnot.
This is all to explain that I am unable to attend tomorrow’s marketing meeting as I am still stranded in St. Croix, having been kicked out of the hotel by my soon-to-be-annulled spouse and without the immediate funds to return home. I have taken work where I can find it—mostly clerical and light fraud work—and should have enough funds for my return by the close of Q1. In the meantime, I have taken room with a group of Dutch travelers who have mistaken me for their mate Stijan and have graciously agreed to let him pay them back upon their return to Eindhoven.
Thank you in advance for your understanding,

Drunken vagrant Carlos D. Michaels, 51, has been tapped by Miami-Dade County to head its Transportation and Public Works department. “GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME,” slurred Mr. Michaels when asked to comment on his new position, adding “I DON’T KNOW YOU! I DON’T KNOW YOU!” as he took a swing at this reporter before tiring himself out and falling back asleep.Mr. Michaels’ appointment is being universally lauded by those who know him. “Carlos is so great,” said 25 year old Nadia Jeshri as she entered the Metrorail and greeted the vagrant as he peed himself. “Every time I get on the train and he is there it’s so exciting. It’s like I’m in New York,” said Ms. Jeshri as a urine soaked Mr. Michaels walked over to her seat to burp in her mouth and then comment on the size of her butt. “Such an authentic City experience,” gushed Ms. Jeshri as she turned her head to stare out the window and pretend like what just happened was no big deal, just like a real New Yorker.
Mr. Michaels is expected to bring widespread reforms to the Miami’s public transit system, promising to extend the metro’s hours so “people could get some goddamn sleep” and connecting downtown Miami to parts of Miami-Beach, which he admits he won’t even try to do but says that it sounds pretty good before he started crying to himself and screaming for someone, likely from his past, named Myrna.
Mr. Michaels will begin next week and will be assisted by new Deputy Transit Director Man Nonchalantly Playing Trap Music On Speakers So Everyone On The Train Can Hear, and Undersecretary of Transit 28 Year Old “Teenager” Raising Money For His Football Team.

“We are getting the hell out of the beach for Urban Beach Week!” reported Miami Beach couple Alex and Serena Cohen from their balcony at The Continuum, a decision which has nothing to do with all of the “urban” people coming to town, so don’t even go there. “We just can’t miss that exotic plant sale at Fairchild down south,” explained Serena.While visitors to South Beach will be enjoying a week of boozy slushies and rented Lambos, residents of Pinecrest will be opening up their many guest rooms and fold-out couches to beach-dwellers hoping to escape the beach for Pinecrest’s more tranquil “Suburban Beach Weekend.”
Suburban Beach Weekend’s top attractions include finding parking right in front of the Walgreens, scoring loot from estate sales, and not listening to Fetty Wap. “Fetty who?” laughed Pinecrest resident Abigail Moore as she strolled through one of the three Publix supermarkets located within a mile from her home.
“I’d stay to enjoy the debut of Miami-Beach Police’s new Mine-Resistant Ambush-Protected armored truck, but I’m meeting my sister on Sunday for brunch at some place called The Muffin Tin” said pilates instructor Amy Ruiz, who plans on spend Friday evening watching a new TLC show about obese midgets called “Little AND Big” with her sister as her brother-in-law stares at his iPad all night.
“I love suburban beach week!” said Ms. Ruiz before binge watching 9 episodes of Kimmy Schmidt by herself after her sister went to bed at 10:00.
Not all Pinecrest residents are thrilled about the influx of visitors to their suburban paradise. Area curmudgeon Manny Santos complained, “I’ve never seen so many pretty people drinking boxes of wine at Matheson Hammock beach. This is Pinecrest, not The Flamingo.”
[EDITOR’S NOTE: You won’t find a more charming eatery in all of South Dade than the Muffin Tin. People rarely die there!]

Francesca Villalobos consumed an entire “tossed salad” without any salad dressing whatsoever during a lunch with her sister at Morton’s Steakhouse.The Plantain has learned that the 24-year-old woman, who works for a yacht company or something, ate the $18 pile of kale and 3-cherry tomatoes in front of her older sister Beth with a level of self-satisfaction the likes of which the upscale steakhouse had never seen.
“She was just sitting there, eating leaves like she was some sort of giraffe,” reported 31 year old Beth, an oncologist who though she loves her sister has always resented her because mom was so much easier on her.
“It’s so typical of her,” said Beth of her sister, who she knows purposefully waited until after Beth ordered her 18-oz rib-eye and baked potato before telling the waiter that she just wanted a small salad without dressing, an order which shamed Beth into changing her order to an Apple Pecan salad.
“Yeah, I changed my order to a salad,” admitted Beth, before adding “but at least I didn’t ask for it without dressing. I’m not a joyless dickhole.”
Francesca spent the meal telling her sister all about Jennifer from work who she thinks is very jealous of her because she, I guess, sells more boats or something. [Editor’s Note: Yachts are not boats and yacht people take the distinction very seriously, although under pressure they admit that yachts are just fucking boats]. “I can’t believe she didn’t even ask about Aiden,” thought Beth toward the end of the meal as she scraped the remaining Blue Cheese from the sides of her empty bowl.
“Aw, sweetie, I wish I could spend time with you all day, but I’m teaching a Pilates class at 4:00,” said Francesca as she gave her older sister a hug. “Yeah, I’m busy too,” said Beth, who was actually not at all busy because she took the day off to spend it with her sister, who didn’t even wish her a happy birthday.

The Plantain has learned that Diane Horowitz has made big plans for her daughter-in-law Maya’s uterus.”I can’t wait to be a grandmother!” said Diane out of absolutely nowhere during her Mother’s Day brunch. “Mom, quit it,” said her son David, knowing this sort of thing really upset his wife.
“What! I’m just sayin’ that I can’t wait to be a grandmother. Why is that bad?” Diane responded, knowing exactly why.
After a second of silence, the 54-year-old administrator, not able to control her self, continued: “You know, take your time, sure. Maybe you should go to Europe, just the two of you, because it’ll be impossible to go when you have a baby or two. What are you thinkin? A year or two and then you’ll start, right?” Diane asked Maya, who just stared at her, not believing she was actually doing this right now. “You’re gonna want at least two kids. Maybe three.”
Sources close to the family report that Diane has brought up her future grand-children nearly every time she has seen Maya since the wedding two Novembers ago. “I just want to make sure I’m not an old grandma,” said 54-year-old Diana, who said she really doesn’t see why her daughter-in-law is so sensitive about this.
The Plantain spoke to Maya about her relationship with her mother-in-law, which she described as “strained” even though Diane characterized the two as being “very close.”
“She just never stops asking about when I’m going to ‘give her grandkids.’ It’s so annoying,” said Maya, who in fact is pregnant and had planned to tell Diane the news over brunch before she started on about all of this again. “I almost don’t even want to have this kid because I don’t want her to have the satisfaction.
Toward the end of the meal, Diane’s son Michael had arranged for a cake to be brought out that read “Happy Mother’s Day, Grandma!”
“Mom, we’re pregnant!,” said David, tears welling up in his eyes.
“Oh my god!” said his mother, who burst into tears and grabbed Maya. “Oh my god, I knew it! I thought you looked fat,” cried Diane, who really was very happy, so it probably was for the best that she couldn’t see her daughter-in-law glare unhappily at her husband. “I can’t believe you’re finally making me a grandmother!”

Ongoing reports of mysterious illnessess at the Broward County Courthouse finally have an explanation, and courthouse staff are more terrified than ever.
A 14-month Plantain investigation found that a top-secret U.S. Department of Justice program in the courthouse basement to turn kidnapped children into telepathic lie-detecting machines has been leaking sickness-inducing extradimensional energies into the courthouse.
The investigation began after government tipsters passed along reports to Plantain reporters of a creature with a mouth for a head having eaten at least five attorneys, two paralegals and a local newspaper reporter in the courthouse parking garage.
Recent new visitors to the courthouse began to note in recent months a slight snowflake-like haze permeate the area, a haze that daily visitors had not actually noticed in part due to the pervasive fluorescent lighting throughout the building.
“We are examining the unconfirmed effects of this alleged interdimensional tear and these extremely far-fetched reports of some attorney-eating creature roaming the premises,” said county administrator Louis Hagan. “In the meantime, courthouse employees are still of course expected to report to work.”
By Manuel Del Fango IV

Thousands of American refugees have begun to flee the United States to Cuba seeking a better life and government subsidized healthcare coverage following Congress’ repeal of Obamacare. “The decision was a tough one,” said 26-year-old Jonathan Miller-Smith as he put the finishing touches on a raft he fashioned from discarded tires, twine, and thousands of dollars of text books from college he never read.Mr. Miller-Smith says he decided to expatriate because he no longer feels safe in this country and fears that the Republican controlled government is actively working toward taking away protections in place that protects him and others from descending into poverty, adding, “and I’m a white man! Imagine how bad it is to be something other.” Mr. Miller-Smith says he believes the President has become a despot, and not even one of those sexy revolutionary ones like in Cuba that get their own t-shirt and cool murals.
The Plantain spoke to several former Cuban refugees about whether they too were thinking about leaving the United States to go back to Cuba, and they all responded in unison: “Nope, we’re good. This is still better,” with one particularly ornery old man getting very angry and yelling something about how Mr. Miller-Smith is sad and ignorant for being frightened about the direction of this Country since the Senate still needs to approve any healthcare repeal.
The Plantain was confused by the old man’s criticism and the trust he seemed to place in the United States Senate, a body that is run by Mitch McConnell, a man who has spent his entire career advocating against providing health care to people who don’t want to unnecessarily die, but decided not to push the issue for the sake of civility.