Carl Hiaasen - Kick Ass - Selected Columns of Carl Hiaasen

Suddenly Carollo was aiming that pained frozen smile at TV cameras and trying to sound like Mr. Let's-Unify-Miami instead of George Wallace (for whom he once campaigned).

Before long, though, the old Joe resurfaced. You just knew he couldn't go a whole week without unveiling some screwy conspiracy theory, and he didn't disappoint us.

On Friday, Carollo produced a laughably vague affidavit (with all the names conveniently blacked out) alleging a sinister vote-buying scheme in the 1987 election.

Considering the margin by which Carollo got stomped that year, the only person rich enough to buy that many votes was Victor Posner, and he was busy with other charitable matters.

This year Carollo's chances are bolstered by the performance of his opponent, incumbent Miller Dawkins, who once threatened to burn down an AIDS counseling center.

No one on the City Commission has a keener aptitude for uttering dumb things at the worst possible times. For this reason, Dawkins' advisers have urged him to run a low-key race, and to say as little as possible.

This isn't easy when a notorious drug dealer such as Isaac Hicks is announcing that he gave thousands in cash to previous Dawkins campaigns. The candidate has carefully responded that he never engaged in such a slimy transaction, which was (for once) exactly what any smart person would say.

Next we have Rosario Kennedy seeking a commission seat for which she earnestly promised not to run.

Having lost the Democratic congressional primary, the ex-commissioner faces some old uncomfortable questions. Voters are still ticked off about the $111,000 refurbishing of her city office, and they're still curious about her friendship with celebrity tax swindler Monty Trainer.

On the bright side, Kennedy has always been honest when giving her street address, which is more than you can say for her opponent, Miriam "Have Zip Code, Will Travel" Alonso.

Alonso is best known for lying about where she lived in order to run for a Metro Commission seat. The falsely sworn election document was apparently insufficient evidence for the state attorney to prosecute, but it was enough for a judge to kick her off the ballot.

This time around, Alonso promised that she wouldn't try that kind of stunt. Still, you've got to wonder about the force of her ambitions.

She changed party affiliations three times in less than two years—evidence of either crass political opportunism, or a multiple-personality disorder. Most normal people don't switch record clubs three times in two years, not even for a dozen free albums.

So this is the roster from which Miami voters must choose new leadership. It's a shame that not one of the candidates comes without a history of having done or said something profoundly stupid, or downright dishonest.

It's also a shame that only a small number of eligible voters will make the selection for the majority. If those who stay home Tuesday are waiting for a candidate who inspires them, they could die of old age first.

Unfortunately, democracy in these times is less a quest for new heroes than an obstacle course through stale mediocrity. As disheartening as it is, sometimes you've got to choke down your feelings and vote for the lesser of two feebles.

Sometimes an election is a community IQ test.

The city of Sunrise had one this week. Next Tuesday, it's Miami Beach's turn.

Sunrise did itself proud. An impressive 73 percent of voters decided that they didn't want a convicted extortionist as mayor. The shameless John Lomelo got tromped at the polls.

On Tuesday, a scandalized Joe Gersten runs for Metro Commission in District 5, which includes Miami Beach and part of downtown Miami. For Gersten to be elected would be a big upset—and a profound commentary on the collective intelligence of those voters.

For 11 months, Clueless Joe has been dodging prosecutors seeking to ask him about the curious events of last April 29, when the commissioner's now-legendary Mercedes-Benz was stolen. The car turned up in the hands of Biscayne Boulevard lowlifes, who said they'd swiped it while Gersten smoked dope and had sex with a hooker in a downtown crack house.

Gersten claimed the car was taken from his gated driveway in Coral Gables. For weeks he toured Europe and avoided questions about the incident. When he finally returned, he unsuccessfully resisted taking a drug test. The results didn't rule out the possibility that Gersten had smoked cocaine, but they indicated that he wasn't a regular user.

Joey declared vindication, a bit too soon.

Prosecutors collected the logs from his car phones, and tapes of conversations between the commissioner and the dirtbags who had his car. They took statements from Gersten's maid and fiancée that raised more questions about Joey's wanderings on April 29. And they found a cab driver who swore that he'd picked up a man resembling Gersten on Biscayne Boulevard that night, and drove him to Gersten's neighborhood in the Gables.

Only the hurricane kept the Gersten follies from becoming a running feature on the evening news. To this day, Joey refuses to give a sworn statement about what happened, refuses to disclose how he spent the evening. He says the sneaky State Attorney's Office is trying to trap him in a perjury rap, and he's hired a high-powered defense lawyer to fight the subpoena.

It's been quite a spectacle—an elected public official, desperately ducking his civic duty to take a simple oath and tell the truth.

Clueless Joe blames ruthless prosecutors and bloodthirsty reporters for his troubles, but it was he who called police about the missing Mercedes. It was he who provided the porous yarn about leaving his keys (and his briefcase and his gun) in the unlocked car while he strolled into the house to make a phone call.

But don't count Gersten out. Scandalized or not, he's been able to squeeze an amazing $250,000 in campaign donations out of bond brokers, builders and others who do business with the county, and who want to stay on Gersten's good side in the unlikely event that he wins.

Residents of District 5 recently got a letter from "The Friends of Joe Gersten," extolling the commissioner's virtues while reminding voters that he hasn't yet been charged with any crimes. The letter carried the names of such well-known political and community figures as state Rep. Mike Abrams, Simon Ferro, Jesse McCrary Barry Kutun, Georgia Ayers, Luis Sabines and Alan Potamkin.

Unfortunately, the letter tells you more about Gersten's "friends" than it does about Gersten. It's interesting that such civic pillars aren't sufficiently appalled by Joey's evasive conduct to make them set aside their political loyalties.

Maybe the voters will be suckered, maybe not. They've got 12 other choices, none of whom are hiding from prosecutors.

Tales from the crypt: Maurice Ferre is back.

He is risen from the land of political losers to run for Metro Commission. Lucky for him, there's no law against deadbeats holding elected office in Florida.

If bad debts were pit bulls, the former Miami mayor would have lost his most crucial appendages a long time ago. No one but Ferre knows precisely how much he owes, because he conveniently neglected to report it on his campaign disclosure form, as required by the state.

Ferre is no stranger to noncompliance. When he launched this most recent campaign, he still owed $65,000 of a $70,000 fine for campaign-law violations dating to 1981. The debt recently was trimmed to $62,000 after Ferre kicked in a whopping $3,000 of his wife's dough.

He hasn't taken the fine too seriously, and for good reason. In 1983, the Dade state attorney sued for the money, but soon gave up the hunt. Janet Reno says she put the case aside because her investigators couldn't find any funds listed in the ex-mayor's name. Everything had been transferred to Ferre's wife, Mercedes.