Category: Tampa Bay

The indictment of those two Muslim USF students might yet turn out to be the perfect storm of unfortunate coincidence: the wrong foreigners in the wrong place with the wrong itinerary and the wrong car-trunk contents. In short, the wrong post-9/11 time to be clueless, Egyptian knuckleheads crossing state lines with “fireworks.” Nobody, to be sure, wants a Sami Al-Arian, “Jihad U” redux – or worse. More angst for the memories.

But make no mistake. That Berkeley County (SC) sheriff’s deputy did the right thing by doing more than write a speeding ticket for Ahmed Abda Mohamed, the USF engineering graduate student. He and his companion, USF undergrad Yousef Samir Megahed, were without a precise destination, ostensibly looking for cheap gas in the vicinity of the Goose Creek Naval Weapons Station and downright furtive about a laptop. And in the car trunk was apparently something more than sparklers and cherry bombs.

In this civilizational-war era, we’re all asked to pay more attention to anything suspicious.

Law enforcement is on the front lines of homeland security. And, yes, common sense profiling is a legitimate tool, Muslim and ACLU protestations notwithstanding. It can be utilized without being ugly or abusively arbitrary — or turning our police into ethnocentric storm troopers. But we are at war, and it’s with young, male jihadi Islamists with death wishes – ours and theirs.

In St. Petersburg there is concern in diversity circles that the growing downtown entertainment scene is top heavy with alternative, jazz and rock music. And that hip-hop is nigh on to negligible.

For the record, a smattering of hip-hop clubs have opened – and ultimately closed – in recent years in downtown St. Pete. Something about violence, drug-use rumors and a dearth of responsible owners. A 2003 rap concert in Vinoy Park drew lots of complaints. Something about loud music and obscene language.

There’s a pattern to hip-hop, one that’s utterly incompatible with St. Petersburg’s on-going nightlife renaissance. Put it this way: Alternative, jazz and rock are not, by definition, misogynistic anthems to a dysfunctional culture.

If St. Petersburg is serious about continuing its impressive downtown revitalization, it will continue to marginalize hip-hop. And it will continue to treat syllogistic piffle about “voices of the underrepresented” and urban youth “empowerment” with the politically incorrect discredit it deserves.

But if further evidence is still needed, St. Pete officials are advised to take a short road trip across the bay. See what the hip-hop scene has done for Ybor City.

Here’s a discussion we’ll be having increasingly as Tampa’s riverfront continues its revitalization. What of all that uncommissioned “urban art” that has been left in the wake of college rowing crews over the years?

Will it remain cool – in that Tampa signature kind of way – or will it seem an incongruous mismatch with the new Riverwalk, museums and upscale, outdoor dining?

Here’s a vote for continued coolness.

We’re obviously not talking about urban graffiti that is the unsightly tag line of vandals or ad hoc advertisers. We’re talking about a literal, historical signature: a graphic reminder of where Ivy League and Big Ten student-scullers have long wanted to be in the winter. And not only were the collegiate Kilroys here, but they’re still coming back.

If a simple Yale logo or a colorful reminder that the Princeton Women Crew was here in 2000 are not considered compatible with a protean waterfront, then we need to do a better job of educating those that think that way. Philadelphia and Boston, for example, don’t have a problem with student signatures along their boathouse rows. Tampa needs to market it — not question it.

To that end, visitor-related brochures and websites need to highlight the unique Tampa totems. And the private sector can emulate the Sheraton Tampa Riverwalk Hotel, which will place a plaque in the hotel’s lobby explaining the crew art history.

In Tampa, you can row home again.

City Council has been trying to find a way to get out in front of January’s referendum on the homestead super exemption. It’s understandable: a reduction in the taxable value of homes will result in less revenue for Tampa. And fewer projects, programs and personnel.

Speculation about involving unions, including firefighters and police, however, has not been well received. And Mayor Pam Iorio won’t be rolling out the bully pulpit to stare down the super exemption. That apparently leaves resolution-passing as a viable way of expressing opposition to the super exemption. That’s an option that barely beats frowning.

A suggestion to council: Your best ally could be the county property appraiser. That office’s analysis shows the majority of those planning to stay in their homes long term will actually pay less in taxes if they resist the siren song of the super exemption and stay with “Save Our Homes” and the 3 percent tax cap.

Which is a vote for taxpayer savings and neighborhood stability. Which is a lot better than playing the anxiety card.

Isn’t one dysfunctional body enough?

Sadly, we’ve come to expect that out of the Hillsborough County Commission, sometimes manifesting itself in infighting that gets nasty.

But the Hillsborough School Board?

The recent Jennifer Faliero/April Griffin smack down was beyond vintage Rose Ferlita/Ken Hagan or even Kathy Castor/Ronda Storms.

Does the school board need a “Time Out” room?

By all accounts, 17-year-old Nick Bollea is a nice kid. Too bad he’s also Nick Hogan.

For that has meant living in his Hulkster dad’s fishbowl, reality-TV world; being home-schooled away from the masses; and having every opportunity to indulge an adrenaline-rush, fast-car fantasy. Life in the steadfast lane was never meant to be.

Multiple speeding tickets — and a restricted license — were mere precursors to the horrific traffic accident last week in Clearwater. According to witnesses, speeding and hot-dogging were factors.

A passenger’s life now hangs in the balance, and the legal and psychological ramifications for Bollea are severe and life-altering.

If only Hogan Knew Best.

First, the bad news.

We’re still stuck with a dysfunctional Hillsborough County Commission that can wax blissful over a sports complex but grow combative over mass transit relevance and wetlands protection. Still stuck with a faction that treats public input as a gadfly infestation. Still stuck with an element that seems clueless about the inherent synergy of the county and its economic hub – the city of Tampa. Still stuck with a clique that prompts nostalgia for Joe Kotvas.

And still stuck with the hapless Brian Blair as chairman of the Environmental Protection Commission, which is roughly analogous to Josef Mengele as surgeon general. First, do no good.

Now, the good news. Thanks, ironically, to the publicity magnet that was the wetlands division debacle and ultimate compromise, a lot more folks seem to be paying attention. And in the process, asking themselves: Who are these people — and whose priorities and values do they really represent?

Perhaps a tipping point has been reached in this reign of error. Perhaps Blair, Ken Hagan, Jim Norman and Kevin White have — by outing themselves as riparian renegades and then disingenuously claiming they were catalysts for compromise — will have greased the skids for their own eventual ouster. Perhaps enough voters may have recognized that Blair, for example, does, indeed, have the skill sets — and credibility — of a professional wrestler.

Once you’ve turned a sprinkling of environmentalists into an angry, enlightened constituency armed with rhetorical pitch forks, anything is possible.

And thank you Al Higginbotham, the increasingly assertive Mark Sharpe and the feisty Rose Ferlita. Being outnumbered is never at odds with being right.

And that’s how numbers can change.

Plaudits to the University of Tampa for getting out in front of a serious undergraduate issue – student drinking – that is too often dismissed as a rite of collegiate passage. UT actually requires all its first-year students to complete an online alcohol prevention program, AlcoholEdu for College, immediately upon arrival.

Some sobering statistics underscore the need. According to the National Institute of Alcoholism and Alcohol Abuse, there were more than 1,700 alcohol-related deaths and 2.1 million cases of student DUIs in 2002. The NIAAA also estimates nearly 600,000 injuries, 97,000 sexual assaults and 159,000 first-year drop outs attributable to alcohol and other drugs every year.

The shakedown cruise is over. First-year Tampa City Council member Joseph Caetano has found a cause. He wants to rid the city of advertising-sign carriers, some in costume, who can be found working some of Tampa’s busier streets – such as New Tampa’s Bruce B. Downs Boulevard. He says they can be distracting to drivers.

And they surely can be, even to motorists on cell phones. And as a priority, it’s certainly more helpful than the secession of New Tampa.

By all accounts, the 5-year-old, Orlando-based Florida A&M Law School has not fared well. Barely half its students pass the Florida Bar Exam; faculty quality is questionable; leadership is a vacuum and full accreditation by the American Bar Association is far from a given.

It’s also worth reflecting on the irony of that site-selection charade back in 2000. Tampa, which was offering free land, finished behind Orlando – and Lakeland – in the running for the ostensible plum that was the FAMU Law School.

But do recall Tampa’s consolation prize: the Tampa Law Center & Campus of the Stetson University College of Law. Not only is accreditation not an issue, but the imposing, 73,500-square-foot, neo-Spanish Mediterranean facility has been a major catalyst for Tampa Heights’ development and revitalization.

And one other thing. Stetson actually bought the 7.7-acre, North Tampa Street (and razed the old Tampa Police Department headquarters) site for $11.2 million.

And one final thing. Regardless of civil rights implications and the pay-back raison d’etre , no, we didn’t need another law school. And, no, we still don’t need more lawyers. Period.