Arts & Entertainment

Playing currently in his band Sweet Bronco and previously in Catalonia, Horgan is, year in and year out, probably the single best songwriter in South Florida. Like all great singers, he started early and was lucky enough to have ended up in the Florida Singing Sons, which produced other local success stories like Boots (Beyoncé’s producer and songwriter). It should be noted, though, that training alone does not an artist make, and both Horgan’s songwriting and voice are far stronger than most in the South Florida scene. Putting his boy-choir skills to work, Horgan has steadily built a massive catalog and toured last year in Sweet Bronco supporting the French singer Soko around the Southeast. The Horganator is currently engaged in a variety of writing and performance projects, working with former Boots bandmate David Barnard and others on new and interesting stuff.

facebook.com/sweetbronco

Nothing’s cheaper than free, and nothing’s more thrilling than live music. For years now, the amphitheater at Hollywood’s Young Circle has hosted diverse acts, from Galactic to Seu Jorge to the Wood Brothers. This summer’s calendar includes a night of Caribbean music on June 20 and sounds from Argentina on July 18, and Afro-Brazilian big band Orchestra Rumpilezz makes its U.S. debut performance August 1. All of these gigs and more are perfect for lying out on the grass or making use of your dancing shoes with your fellow cheap-thrill seekers. There is generally food for sale, but the true cheap thrillists know to bring a picnic dinner.

Imagine you stumble upon a massive shipment of cocaine on the beach and are able to sell it off without ending up as dinner for a cartel boss’ pet barracuda. You’re suddenly rich! Where’s the best place to live out all your 1 percent fantasies? The W Fort Lauderdale is the swankiest of swank spots, not only along Fort Lauderdale Beach but in all of South Florida. Just walking through the gleaming modern building gives you the sense you’re now a member of a different tax bracket. From the slick rooms with floor-to-ceiling windows that offer beach views to neon-blue 15-foot aquariums lining the walls of onsite restaurant Steak 954, the place oozes the kind of chic tastefulness that’s rare in South Florida’s garish landscape. Plus, the W’s second-floor balcony off the bar is probably the best place in town to sip a drink.

Readers’ Choice: W Fort Lauderdale

If your idea of the perfect pool hall is a place where the cigarette smoke hangs as heavy as the clouds of chalk left lingering after breaking your fifth round, then Toby’s is your place. You won’t find any coin slots or torn tables here, just perfect rows of green, red, and blue felt and plenty of challengers (no sharks!). It has nine tables for your shooting pleasure. And the best part? If you buy a drink — a bottle of water, even — you shoot for free until 7 p.m. Stick that in your corner pocket.

Readers’ Choice: The Original Fat Cats

It might have all the clichés of New Orleans without any of the gritty authenticity of that city, but as soon as you get off your high horse and embrace the Vegas-like cheesiness, the Mardi Gras Casino emerges as a fun place to blow loads of cash. In addition to the regular gambling necessities like slots and cards, this place offers an odd mix of showgirls in Carnival attire, controversial greyhound racing (made less controversial with a greyhound adoption program sponsored by the casino), and good-ol’, all-American events like slider-eating competitions. But it gets better — as of presstime, the casino’s featured performer every Sunday was Ghaleb, a Miami-based singer from Venezuela who was booted off American Idol after a good, albeit heavily accented, performance of Marc Anthony’s “You Sang to Me.” Simon Cowell wasn’t impressed, but the young singer garnered a spirited following, and he’s now the top billing at the Mardi Gras.

Bowling has gotten a little… how do we say this?… soft. The lasers, the light shows, cosmic this and disco that. What happened to just picking up a damned ball and rolling? Holiday Lanes Bowling Center in Hallandale offers bowling with zero bullshit. Sixteen lanes, wonderfully greasy food from the kitchen, and a bar where you’ve got to be careful who you mouth off to toward closing time — what more could any red-blooded American want?

Readers’ Choice: Manor Lanes Bowling and Sports Den Pub

Everybody has a type, and if non-American is your type, Paladium Nightclub in Margate might be a thing you want to check out — if you’re single and ready to mingle. Paladium has a reputation for being the place you go to dance, not like “teach me how to Dougie” dance, but, like, salsa dance. Live acts and special guests litter Paladium’s monthly schedule, and you can always be sure that their weekends include a line out-the-door of young people looking to break a sweat on the dance floor. Located in a spacious shopping plaza, not some ditch in the middle of nowhere, Paladium is a place you and your friends can go out to and concentrate on having a good time. Not a huge dancer, but wish you were? Paladium has salsa lessons going on all month long that will help you impress when the weekend rolls around. Open bars and all-you-can eat buffets are a plus if you’re trying to get to know a special someone without spending your entire paycheck. Paladium is one of the best kept secrets in South Florida if you’re looking to meet a significant other (preferably a foreigner).

When C&I Studios and Exposed PR put their heads together, great things happen. Need proof? Invent a time machine and go back to February’s For the Love Music Festival in Fort Lauderdale’s FAT Village. The daylong event showcased some of the best local talent Broward and Palm Beach counties had to offer. Bands and fans flooded the streets of Fort Lauderdale’s blossoming arts district, bouncing from stage to stage and enjoying local acts like Corey James Bost, Kids, Phil Barnes, and Lakeland’s Copeland. What’s that? Your time machine’s broken and your feet smell like kale? That second part was unnecessary, but you’re in luck, you weirdo. Because the FAT Village idea agency C&I Studios and Sara Shake’s Fort Lauderdale-based Exposed PR are already working on For the Love 2016. This one is sure to be bigger and better, squeezed full of local talent like an obese Twinkie. In the meantime, work on those feet.

What’s hotter than a single dad who caters to his beloved spawn? A single adventurous dad who adores his little beasts and brings them to Off the Wall Trampoline Fun Center, that’s what. Sure, if you go cruising for dudes in this massive, 36,500-square-foot ADHD paradise, you’re going to find a few that are still married. But bars ain’t cutting it for scoring a mature man. At Off the Wall, you’ll find fit fathers who you know are committed — at least to their kids. And if old dudes aren’t your thing, catch a muscular parkour pro bouncing off the walls, literally, or a fun guy playing laser tag, a gamer nerd at the arcade center, or Mr. Rock Wall Climber who is sure to at least offer to pay for the first round of drinks. Best part is, if you get bored and the pops are all lame-o, you can get a nice workout playing trampoline dodgeball. There’s also a grownup sports lounge area for stretching before you show off those ten years of gymnastics to the starry-eyed padres looking just for you and your impressive split skills.

If you want to snag a babe with some balance and brawn, you’ll meet her with her (very toned) butt in the air on a floating vessel. Here, on the nice calm waters of the Middle River (by Whole Foods) is the place where your future lady friend will be improving those abs and calves as she strengthens her inner beauty as well. You’ll meet yogis with a sense of adventure at this Fort Lauderdale spot. And having a first meeting in a bathing suit will likely feel as wonderfully disarming as When Harry Met Sally. If you’re not up for a partner who can do really cool shit like a headstand on a surfboard or downward-facing dog with a paddle in her mouth, then don’t even bother coming (kidding about that last part — the paddles will be in no one’s mouths). Sunrise charges only $40 per paddleboard yoga session (other places charge like $75 or $80, which is cray). The sessions are offered Fridays at 9:30 a.m., but you also have the option of setting up a group session — only two people needed. However, we think you should organize a singles paddleboard yoga mixer with Speedos and bikinis. You’ll thank us later.

At this friendly gay bar, Friday-night karaoke has entered the 21st Century. No longer must one fight over dusty old binders to see which selection of Nancy or Frank Sinatra songs you might croon along to. Instead check out the computer consoles, where you can type any song or artist that comes to mind and see if you, in your drunken stupor, can mutilate it. Even more 2015: Once you sign in, you can check through the comfort of your own iPhone to see which Elvis song you want to sing on the small stage. Be aware, though: The competition is fierce from regulars who have their Kenny Rogers down. But everyone is polite, and there is little heckling of newbies.

Readers’ Choice: Whiskey Tango

If you have some friends, an hour or two, and a high tolerance for anxiety, the mind-bending puzzles at Escape the Quest will make for a memorable experience. You and your pals are stuck together in a room, given a scenario, and must figure out how to extract yourself. In a crime-scene scenario, you have to use clues to figure out a way to escape without becoming a suspect yourself. In a “Stay of Execution” game, you better hope the governor pardons you before the clock ticks down. The company started in South Beach in 2014. Games are good for kids age 7 and up, though one player must be at least 16. A session starts at $100. They can also organize corporate events.

This Hollywood duo picked the perfect name for their band, as their latest album, Native Echoes, is ten tracks of Florida sunshine. It is perfect to listen to while cruising along the coast or if you’re trapped inland and wish you weren’t. From the first listen, you can hear that singer/guitarist Kimmy Drake and drummer Skyler Black seem to be influenced by everyone who was influenced by Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound. Opener “All My Friends Were Punks” has a hint of the Ramones, and standout “Don’t Call Me on the Phone” is the Ronettes by way of Amy Winehouse, while “Gnarly Waves” is just that, the peaceful surf crashing in over an instrumental. Native Echoes is a must for all those who still get giddy when “Be My Baby” comes on the airwaves.

For more than ten years, Broward-based DJ and producer Mister Gray has been slaving away behind the decks to make distinctive and quality dance music. A visit to his Soundcloud page reveals an online party — perfectly packaged and just waiting for the sun to set for booties to drop. You may have seen Mister Gray around town, sporting his signature heavy beard, Ray-Bans, and cap. He’s on the rise and versatile, and he’s got the whole South Florida scene covered and bouncing with his beats. You can catch him spinning live at places like downtown Miami’s E11even, Monarchy in West Palm Beach, and Wall at the W on South Beach. And if there’s a man who has put in his time and knows his shit, it’s Mister Gray. The unofficial tastemaker of all things EDM, Diplo, even played Ruen and Gray’s remix of 2 Chainz’s “Birthday Song” on his BBC Radio 1 show Diplo & Friends. Mister Gray has been partnering quite a bit with Ruen, and their most recent release, “Boom Boom,” is a veritable Vegas-style club banger. Enjoy him locally before he bursts from the South Florida cocoon and starts DJ’ing far, far away.

soundcloud.com/mister-gray

Readers’ Choice: Misha Samson

Before even hitting a stage with their clean and atmospheric style of “minimalistic pop” electronica, West Palm’s Kevin Neal and Sydney Morris were a well-adored hit. That’s because of, well, the internet. The duo known as Jude hit the blogs with a click. Many clicks, in fact. Through a random SoundCloud upload, their single “Crystals” made its way onto the radar of plenty of web hot spots — including Interview Magazine and Pigeons and Planes. The two Dreyfoos School of the Arts alumni are young as hell too. But for being on this planet for around 18 years, they really know how to craft some incredibly listenable tunes. People have made Lorde comparisons, but we don’t hear it. We hear, like, a millennial’s the Sundays — and that’s a huge compliment. The two brought their very listenable sound to South by Southwest in Austin this past March, playing a few showcases. You can grab their first album, The Bedroom EP, on the web (duh) and then sit around biting your nails waiting on their next endeavor.

judemusic.net

A garage-rock revival washed over South Florida like a tsunami a few years ago, and people have been soaking themselves in its groovy mosh pits since. Though the metaphorical waters have subsided, one band continues to thrive with its own punchy sounds. The Gun Hoes have opened for Trick Daddy and King Khan, but the band is also perfectly comfortable playing tiny, dirty house parties all over town. The band’s “mascot” is drummer Anthony Hernandez’s hairiest of chests. It’s hard to look away from this glistening carpet of human fur, even when you’re slamming your sweaty body into another on the dance floor. Singer and guitarist Gabe Miranda is the brains of the band and the main melody maker. Nico Toussaint rounds out the threesome with his cool style and by slappin’ da bass. The Gun Hoes have put out music on both Blood Oath Slumber Party and Cheap Miami but are coming out with an EP, Lust at the Beach. The three have plans to keep touring, carrying the psych torch ’round the nation, and getting everyone dancing in its wake.

thegunhoes.bandcamp.com

Readers’ Choice: Panic Disorder

Masticator is one of the finest names for a band. The word sounds ominous and authoritative, and it means “one who chews or grinds or kneads.” It’s almost tongue-in-cheek. Almost. Once you hear the West Palm Beach band, though, you’ll feel like you’re being crushed by the unforgiving choppers of metal in the mouth of music. The band’s recently recorded LP, The Basement Murders, may not have a lot to do with the architecture of South Florida, but this release will baptize Florida metalheads with the brutal and inspired sounds of nine new tracks and two re-recordings from its Global Mastication EP. Guitarist Mike Dickson explains the band “broke into the modern wave of extreme in the death metal world while keeping our old school Florida death metal roots attached.” Dickson himself just signed an endorsement deal with South Dakota’s Blakhart guitars, which he identifies as, “an up-and-coming juggernaut of six-string creation.” With songs names like “Chloroform,” “Night of Long Knives,” and “A Fatal Feasting,” it’s pretty clear your time in their cellar won’t be pretty. But with Masticator luring you into the darkness of their sonic basement, you’ll quickly embrace their credo: “Death Is Destiny.”

Its playlist ranges into rock, pop, and singer/songwriter territory, but its roots and heart are in that old-time religion: Pete Seeger, Woody Guthrie, the Weavers, Joan Baez, and (pre-electric) Dylan. A second, late-blooming career for vocalists/multi-instrumentalists Bill Bowen and Joan Friedenberg (she was a linguistics prof; he was a sportswriter and photojournalist), the band still shows an instructional and reportorial (and decidedly left-wing political) bent. It plays multimedia tribute shows at area schools and libraries, in addition to gigs at the usual bars and not-so-usual assisted living and rehab centers. If its act takes in the Beatles and Elvis, hey: Folks have made those tunes their own, and thus, call it folk.

pinkslipband.com

Ever watch a man perform a noise set while he’s sitting on a toilet and taking care of business? No? Well, we feel damned sorry for you then, because this is what art is all about — taking dirty risks. Robert Wilson Brantley III is also known by a less regal title: Human Fluid Rot. It is under that moniker that he shits and turns knobs for thrilled onlookers. That’s not his only schtick, though. We can’t understate how interesting and engaging his performances are. He just completed a collabo track with Crust Girls, out online or available soon on eight-track, and he’s “bending new instruments” for his live sets. But this Pompano Beach dude isn’t stopping there. He’s got other noise projects coming up: xPARASYTEx with some dudes from Delray, a two-piece project grossly called GIRLPARTZ with a guy from St. Pete, and SLWMTNGNGBNG with Emile Milgrim of Sweat Records and Quarter Horses. Sure, Brantley plays music in the more traditional sense with Between Enemies, but we suggest you catch him at his danged weirdest.

humanfluidrot.bandcamp.com

The Sunny Devilles, a Boca-based hip-hop duo consisting of Tanner Kauffman and James Bauer that adds jazzy soul to its beats and lyrics, have been a welcome addition to the South Florida hip-hop scene. The two musicians, who met while skipping class in high school, draw on a wide range of genres outside of hip-hop on their debut album, In Search Of…, which features everything from synthesizers to saxophones. More for conscious hip-hop heads than house-party jams, the album, Kauffman says, is “reclusive. It’s more for something you listen to when you are by yourself, when you are in a rut and need to get out of it.” After busily touring South Florida, the group recently brought its chilled-out funk style to other parts of the country, making sure other towns get to see that South Florida’s hip-hop scene is far more diverse than generally depicted. Strip clubs and hustlers are still cool, but there’s much more going on here, as the Sunny Devilles easily prove.

sunnydevilles.com

Readers’ Choice: Rick Ross

It’s no coincidence that Bobby Lee Rodgers is always being booked along the coast of South Florida. From opening at the Fillmore for Dave Chappelle or at Revolution for Les Claypool, whether alone or as the Bobby Lee Rodgers Trio, he always brings it. Jamming out on his blues guitar, smiling throughout his sets, the native Georgian but current Broward County resident always has the energy to get the crowd dancing. Get to the venue early.

bobbyleerodgers.com

Since opening last January, Crafti Bar has been giving Fort Lauderdale a heavy dose of live music. In an intimate environment with a friendly staff, you can reggae reggae reggae every Friday night with Fourth Dimension. Rock ‘n’ roll and jazz are also represented regularly. If staring at live musicians creeps you out, DJs are also on the schedule. Monday night is old-school hip-hop night, and Wednesday features house music. The owners are trying to bring a Wynwood vibe to Fort Lauderdale and named themselves after the craft cocktails they pride themselves on serving, so you can come for the drinks and stay for the music… or if you prefer, come for the music and stay for the drinks.

This Fort Lauderdale musical institution shows no prejudice. Just in the past couple of months, it’s emphasized diversity: from the hip-hop of Lil Wayne to industrial legends Ministry to pop princess Charli XCX to the indie dance of the Ting Tings. With a massive pit in front of the stage bordered by elevated edges hosting the bars, coupled with a second-floor wraparound balcony, there truly is not a bad spot in the house.

Readers’ Choice: Revolution Live

One of the nation’s most aggressive and effective, though little-known, human rights organizations spent two decades operating out of locations in the Pacific Northwest and New England before setting up shop in Lake Worth in late 2013. Given the scandalous state of Florida’s prison system, especially under the privatization initiative pushed so mightily by the state’s GOP leadership, Prison Legal News and its nonprofit parent, the Human Rights Defense Center, have been welcome additions to the state’s criminal justice reform movement, getting the word out about prisoner abuse and abusive prison conditions — to the general public and to inmates themselves. The publication was founded and is edited by Paul Wright, a former army policeman who was convicted of murder after he killed a drug dealer he was trying to rob. Once in prison, he was appalled at how prisoners are treated. Now he and the group’s battery of attorneys, who have sued prison systems in Florida and a good dozen other states, go tooth-and-nail to enable distribution inside prisons so inmates know that conviction doesn’t void the Bill of Rights.

Liberty City’s own Trick Daddy may be one of the 305’s best-loved MCs, but today the rapper calls Miramar home. Usually, rich and famous hip-hoppers are pretty zipped-lipped about their home addresses, lest TMZ post up outside — so how do we know the Trickster lays his head in the 954? Well, thanks to the Broward Sheriff Office’s well-publicized raid of the Daddy’s — born Maurice Young — abode. Last April, Trick was backing his coupe out of the suburban driveway when BSO arrived with drug dogs and a warrant. Trick asked if this had to do with a child support payment. Inside, officers found a gram of cocaine on the nightstand in the master bedroom and a Sig Sauer handgun under the pillow. But a little blow and a nine isn’t enough to land you in infamy. What made Trick Daddy’s arrest truly memorable was the mug shot — a gold-grille-snarling Daddy on a bad hair day.

Saying a bar is the best is, of course, subjective; it depends on what you’re into and what you like most — but Off the Hookah checks most all of the boxes. Hookah’s has a special every night, most incredibly affordable. Themed nights, college nights, ladies’ nights, all-you-can-drink nights — just reading the promotions can be exhausting. Hookah is especially perfect for college-aged young adults.

It’s a law as universal as the ones Moses schlepped off the mountain: If an incident happens one time, it’s an event. Two times? A coincidence. Three times? New York Times trend piece. This year, instead of covering the latest llama-fur boots or mustache wax, the paper was writing about a different craze: Broward judges driving under the influence. The trend started in November 2013, when Broward Circuit Judge Cynthia G. Imperato was snagged for erratic driving in Boca Raton. The judge refused to submit to a field sobriety test and was later convicted of driving under the influence of alcohol and reckless driving. The following May, Judge Gisele Pollack — who had recently taken a leave from the bench after twice showing up in court drunk — was busted for DUI following a Plantation car accident. Five days later, Judge Lynn D. Rosenthal was arrested after knocking her SUV against a parked police cruiser in the courthouse parking lot. The judge later claimed she was still groggy from an Ambien she’d taken the night before. Nonetheless, Rosenthal pleaded guilty to a lesser charge of reckless driving last August — and was even reelected in November. Still, the trio of arrests brought national eyes upon Broward, with the New York Times headlining its piece: “Here Comes the Judge, in Cuffs.”

You’d think after more than 50 years, we’d know everything there is to know about the Beatles, but somehow every Sunday at 10 a.m. on Beatle Brunch, Joe Johnson manages to uncover hidden nuggets about the Fab Four. Johnson has been DJ’ing for Magic 102.7 for close to three decades and can be heard playing all the good-time oldies on weekdays from 10 to 3. But it is his musical scholarship on Beatle Brunch that earns him this accolade. One part musical history lesson, another part a nostalgic trip down memory (and Penny!) lane, there is no nuance about John, Paul, George, and Ringo that can escape Johnson’s noggin. For this, legions of Beatlemaniacs are forever grateful.

Readers’ Choice: Paul & Young Ron

Sports radio isn’t exactly the most supportive place to start a communications career; everyone, it seems, thinks he could turn on the microphone and do a better job than the host. A young host could find himself rattled by the passion-driven venom some sports fans inevitably spew, but the Ticket’s  Chris Wittyngham, a recent graduate of the University of Miami, has had no such issues during his rapidly rising hosting career. Wittyngham has newly teamed with the Ticket’s savvy, respected veteran cohost Josh Friedman every night from 7 to 10 o’clock for what has easily become one of the best sports radio listens in the market. One minute, Wittyngham might be perplexing a listener with a big vocabulary word; the next, he might be in the middle of a silly segment. This mix is one of the reasons he is an up-and-coming star in his field.

Marc Hochman made his bones as the wizard behind the curtain of the original Dan Le Batard Show on 790 the Ticket. His dry wit and crazy creative output catapulted him as a primary voice for that show. So when he decided to leave that cushy, highly rated gig to head up the Ticket’s morning show, people thought he was nuts. But Hochman did well for himself, not only bringing some of his familiar high jinks from the afternoon show but establishing a local-leaning sports-talk program the likes of which South Florida drive-to-work folk hadn’t heard in some time. It was part morning zoo, part local sports takes. But then, Hochman once again decided to make an unexpected and seemingly risky move. He left 790 altogether and decided to go head-to-head with his old pal Le Batard as 560-WQAM’s afternoon drive host. As has become par for the course for Hoch, he’s doing just fine. While Le Batard remains the highest-rated afternoon drive program, his has strayed some to accommodate its national audience. But Hoch, with cohost Zach Krantz, remains focused solely on the local sports teams while maintaining some of those wacky bits that made Hoch a household name.

Readers’ Choice: Elvis Duran

Tommy Hutton is exactly the kind of guy you’d want to catch a ballgame with. And you sort of can, if you tune in to Fox Sports Florida every night to watch the Marlins. Hutton, a former ballplayer himself, doesn’t just give color analysis; he gets personally involved. While announcer Rich Waltz calls the play-by-play, Hutton berates players, umpires, and managers whenever they screw up. He has the torqued-up passion of any serious baseball fan, plus actual knowledge of the game. Hutton will go after anyone who he perceives is screwing things up for the Fish. In 2012, when the Marlins’ scorekeeper gave shortstop Jose Reyes an error after a slight bobble of the ball, Hutton bellowed, “Whoever is keeping score has no frickin’ clue!” During another game, Hutton turned his anger to star slugger Giancarlo Stanton, proving that no one is exempt: “You have to slide!” he hollered. But Hutton also has players’ backs. When Stanton was beaned in the face last year, Hutton was ready to fight the entire Milwaukee Brewers team. “You can’t let your big guy go down and not do anything!” he shouted. You need fun and passion with your Marlins games. He’s the guy you want to tune into.

Not to be confused with the silver-screen legend or the ’70s funk singer, this meteorologist can report the sad news of a week’s worth of thunderstorms with a smile as bright as a cloudless sunrise over Fort Lauderdale Beach. Davis delivers the forecast with the spunk and jovial expressions of a Muppet, even when it calls for 36 hours of nonstop rain. She spent nearly five years in front of the green screen at the Weather Channel before heading to South Florida. And that gives her the cred to cover all the wild weather our tropical paradise has to offer.

In 2009, former Miami Herald and Daily Business Review reporter Dan Christensen cut the figurative ribbon on the Broward Bulldog, an online-only news source featuring the kind of detail-driven investigative deep dives that had been disappearing from the pages of major daily newspapers. Powered by donors — including best-selling crime novelist and former South Florida journo Michael Connelly — Christensen’s baby has grown into a feisty brawler. Today, the website’s reach has extended far beyond the Broward border; appropriately, Christensen rebranded last year to reflect the range, rechristening his baby as the Florida Bulldog. Taking on subjects such as the Sarasota Saudis’ ties to 9/11 hijackers to the shitty track records of health-care companies scrambling for work with Broward jails, the Bulldog doesn’t back down from big foes.

floridabulldog.org

The Sun Sentinel‘s Brittany Wallman is an intrepid reporter, as evidenced right there in the paper or on her Twitter feed, @BrittanyWallman, where she spends her days actively chronicling all the news you can use throughout Broward County. She primarily reports on county government, but if a car flips on the Turnpike? Wallman’s there taking photos of rescue officials helping the victims. Commissioners are about to vote on a new law? Wallman is there to live-tweet the action. She’s fearless, inquisitive, and, somehow, everywhere at the same time. Her reports — found mainly on the Sun Sentinel‘s Broward Politics page — are fast, thorough, and accurate. So if you’re a lobbyist, a politician with ulterior motives, or a flakka smoker about to strip down, keep your eye out and beware: There’s Wallman and her laptop, ready to feed the masses the truth.

@brittanywallman

Ungodly rich from his years of clogging the book racks of airports and drug stores from coast to coast (an estimated 300 million books sold), author James Patterson never has to lift a finger to peel a grape till the end of his days if he so chooses. But Jimmy Jim has a heart and soul, it appears, as evidenced by his latest project, the PBS documentary Murder of a Small Town, which is about crime, punishment, and the hardscrabble lives of the residents of the far other end of Palm Beach County. In Belle Glade, Pahokee, and the other towns around Lake Okeechobee, agricultural labor (when there is any to be found — unemployment rates are staggering) is most folks’ bread and butter. Patterson grew interested in those lives during visits to the area as he distributed books to school kids. Now he wants the world to put down his novels for a while and absorb some hard truths.

The inaugural Fort Lauderdale Fringe Festival was like an all-you-can-eat buffet of theater. Three separate Broward College classrooms were converted into black-box-style theaters that would house ten hours of more than 20 plays — largely crafted by local talent. Vanessa Elise, a playwright and Carbonell-nominated actor, was brought on by Broward College (which hosted the event) as a consulting artistic director. “That’s the beauty of the fringe: Every piece is absolutely different,” she told New Times. “We have one that is a musical in Spanglish. We have a theatrical composition that was submitted as a proposal — they built the script as they rehearsed. There’s even a Noh [Japanese musical drama] play written by Cynthia Joyce Clay — it’s very slow and poetic and quite beautiful.” All that variety helped fill a hole in the Broward arts scene that has been sorely missing for, like, ever. And we really hope the festival returns, bigger and better than ever, in 2016.

Readers’ Choice: SunFest

As if trying to turn “no good deed goes unpunished” into the city motto, Fort Lauderdale Police arrested Arnold Abbott last November for the shocking crime of offering free food to the homeless. It was not a Halloween prank when last October 31, the city made it against the law for groups to feed the homeless outdoors without providing port-a-potties and sinks. The then-90-year-old Abbott, however, continued to do what he had done for decades with the organization he founded, Love Thy Neighbor: He strove to feed those who were going unfed. This was not Abbott’s first rodeo against overjudiciousness. Love Thy Neighbor has won five previous court cases in Palm Beach for breaking similar regulations. Abbott continues to fight back both passively — by continuing his weekly feedings — and actively — by suing Fort Lauderdale in hopes of overturning the law.

The suburban Daniel Boones of the Palm Beach County Tea Party leaped to the fringe of local right-wing circles this year with their serial hosting of crackpot “scientist” John Casey, president of the Space and Science Research Corp. and cofounder and chairman of the International Earthquake and Volcano Prediction Center, both outfits conveniently located in Orlando, where magical thinking meets the Magic Kingdom. Casey preached “global cooling” to the Tea Partiers in a trio of presentations last fall and again this spring and foresees “decades of potentially dangerous cold weather” ahead. He says his studies have never been published in a peer-reviewed academic journal because of “bias.” (University of Miami climate scientist Dr. Ben Kirtman has one word for Casey’s theories: “Nonsense.”)

Let’s get this out of the way: Marco Rubio is terrible — a high-voiced, bootlicking opportunist who has tried to gallop atop a (partly bullshit) origin story, painting himself as a refugee from Communist Cuba who’s risen as a Tea Party gunslinger. But the best part about watching Rubio leave Florida: It leaves his U.S. Senate seat unprotected. (Rubio is running for president, though he first must trek a campaign trail whereupon Republican candidates will use each other for toothpicks.) Enter from stage left Patrick Murphy, the Palm Beach-based congressional rep with a fresh face, strong track record, and — and we actually consider this a plus — a mug shot from a drunken college night that’s already all over the internet. Because really, who among us wasn’t booted from a South Beach club when we were 18? It’s relatable. Really, though, Murphy is already something of a monster-slayer. He took down Allen West, an evil scientist’s lab creation of the most vile politician possible.

murphyforflorida.com

Incumbent West Palm Beach Mayor Jeri Muoio suffered many a bruising battle in her first term in office, and when City Commissioner Kim Mitchell — following years in which she seemed to be the real straw that stirred the West Palm Beach drink — threw her hat in the ring last year against Muoio, it promised to be a close contest. Both sides were well-connected to the local business community, and Mitchell had the support of three key weapons: a political machine strong in the gated communities of suburbia; her über-lobbyist ex-husband, Richard Pinsky; and her mom, Anita Mitchell, a GOP bigwig. Despite the slinging of enough mud to raise a mountain, Mitchell went down in March in a 63 percent to 37 percent shellacking, dashing the hopes of a would-be Republican Party rising star.

Get a hanky ready, ’cause this one is a tearjerker. Usually, publicity stunts are just craven attempts to snag the media’s attention. Sometimes, however, they actually are for a good purpose. Broward was lucky enough to see the latter in 2014. Last June, Make-A-Wish Southern Florida and TooJay’s in Coral Springs granted the wishes of 9-year-old leukemia patient Jaylen Hyde. The local little boy wanted to become Striker Boy, a superhero he cooked up on his own. Various do-gooders not only hooked Jaylen up with a costume and logo for Striker Boy but, along with the Broward Sheriff’s Office, planned a whole day of adventures for the pint-sized crime fighter. This included a helicopter ride, a Lamborghini, a damsel in distress, and an arch-evildoer named Sneaky Pete. Striker Boy’s day in the spotlight eventually went viral.

Palm Beach billionaire Jeffrey Epstein is a hedge-fund manager who in the early 2000s was accused of paying underaged girls for sex in his beachside mansion. His sordid tale of hunting for happy endings among mall rats took on new life this past year when his victims turned around and named members of the British and Ivy League aristocracy as the perv’s co-debauchees. Multiple allegations of solicitation of minors had been whittled down to a slap-on-the-wrist plea deal for Epstein in 2008, but that arrangement prompted a federal civil suit; the victims sued the government, alleging they hadn’t been made aware of the plea-deal negotiations. As part of legal filings in that case, it was alleged that Epstein passed at least one teen girl around like a party favor to his high and mighty friends, including Prince Andrew and Harvard prof and renowned litigator Alan Dershowitz (who helped broker Epstein’s plea deal). The two have denied it, but the civil suit drags on.

When you see Daisy Deadpetals in action — spouting out caustic jokes, laying down some wily dance moves, and looking better than any Boca bitch — it’s hard to believe that men who dress up as women were ever considered weird. When Daisy hosts events like dance parties at Camelot and “new meat contests” at Boardwalk or when she simply roams the streets of Wilton Manors, it is with nuclear levels of ferocity. Wish we had a fraction of the confidence.

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Readers’ Choice: Daisy Deadpetals

Pick a spot in Fort Lauderdale. Any spot. Chances are, in five years — five weeks, even — that spot will look very different from what it does now. Sure, construction is the sign of a healthy, growing city, but in a way, it’s sad. It’s nice to have a little permanence in life. However, there is one part of Fort Lauderdale — one very tiny slice — that has remained unchanged since 1951. For the past 64 years, the Classic Gateway movie theater has been scooping popcorn and making pictures come to life. Within walking distance of the beach, the Gateway marquee is a comforting sight to any native and just about the only good thing about being stuck in the mechanical hernia that is Sunrise Boulevard traffic. These days, it’s one of the only places to catch indie movies in Fort Lauderdale, and even though the seats are a little creaky, Gateway has found a way to remain relevant and fresh in today’s Fort Lauderdale. Keep your fully reclining seats and artisanal organic sodas, modern movie theaters! This is how movies are meant to be watched.

Readers’ Choice: iPic Theaters at Mizner Park

You’re swiping right like crazy, just waiting for something to connect. Finally, a match! Who knows what this creature will be when you encounter it in real life, but the messages are flying back and forth. But where do you go with this potential future partner? Do you meet at a bar? Nah, too good a chance you’ll end up shitfaced and alone, puking on your shoes. Meet at a coffee shop! We’ve got the perfect little peach-colored, wooden house with outdoor seating. This is the Alchemist, so besides the cool, laid-back, and earth-friendly vibe, chances are you will have cosmically good chemistry with your new partner. Order a hot chocolate — you add natural chocolate sticks to steaming milk. Or grab a fresh coconut to sip from as a conversation starter. If romance doesn’t bloom (sorry, babe), you can flee with a tasty treat in hand.

When people think South Florida, dudes in cowboy hats and Wranglers aren’t the first things to come to mind. But come on down to Round Up (not to be confused with the killer Monsanto pesticide) and see Broward County get in touch with its Garth Brooks side. South Florida’s finest country-western bar is a multilevel hang with live music, a huge dance floor, and ridiculously good drink specials, such as free drinks for ladies every Wednesday and Friday — that’s free drinks all night long, not just during happy hour. But it’s still South Florida, so if you want to get your VIP section and bottle service as you listen to the band sing about lost love and pickup trucks, this is the place. Oh, yeah — there’s also an art gallery. This place is enough to make you stop saying crazy things like, “I listen to everything except country.”

Readers’ Choice: Revolution Live

This once-mediocre cultural institution is well on its way to being noticed beyond South Florida, and that’s thanks in large part to a rebranding, a renaming, and the direction of head curator Bonnie Clearwater, who has been at the helm for almost two years. She’s brought in big-name exhibitions like Frida Kahlo and even had Julian Schnabel down from New York for a talk. She rounds out the big shows with smaller exhibits by up-and-comers like Zachary Fabri. Along with rising real estate prices, the evolution of the museum is another sign that Fort Lauderdale is on the up-and-up.

Readers’ Choice: Museum of Discovery and Science

So you can’t muster the motivation to pursue a better job, or you can’t get over lingering thoughts of your ex. This doesn’t necessarily mean you have depression or a mental health condition — more like a low-level malaise or a nagging self-doubt. Who ya gonna call? Well, first you’ll call your mom and best friend and whine for a few weeks, but when you’re actually ready to take action to improve your life, try Jen. With Stifler’s-mom-level sex appeal and Zig Ziglar-level mantras spilling out of her mouth, this feisty, funny, and friendly high achiever will help you “get clear” on how you must move forward. Chances are, whatever problem you’re facing, she’s dealt with something similar: She worked on Wall Street, tried her hand as an actress, married and divorced a millionaire, and had a kid before finding her calling as a coach. She now teaches a group class called the “Creative Insight Journey” ($575 for eight weeks), which was developed at Stanford University. She’s also started a retreat company, hosted a radio show, and written a book — which she can also help you do, with her “Book Proposal Accountability Course.” But the real trick? Connecting like-minded souls who come together as classmates. It’s highly likely you’ll come through this uplifting experience with a few cool friends to support the brand-new you.

jennifergrace.com

Don’t be a sucker for any scammy modeling agencies that require you to pay money to be considered or to hire their photographer to have your headshots done. Talent Direct is a legit agency, with clients that include Corona and HBO. It has placed people as main characters and extras on Burn Notice, Graceland, and other TV shows and films. If you are looking to pick up extra money and/or if you are interested in acting, or barely acting, or simply enjoy being around some film stars, check out its page and maybe you will find your way into show business.

Two years ago, we had no idea who this guy was, and then, suddenly, Sri Prabha is everywhere: Art and Culture Center, ArtServe, FAT Village, spaces in Miami — showing his mixed-media science and otherworldly inspired works. His “Orbiting Cathedrals” show at the Young at Art Museum incorporated kinetic imagery and sound, 10,000 slides, an interactive installation, and video projections that take viewers on a trip through a multifaceted experience of science colliding with design. He truly knows how to craft a multimedia experience that is on-point and thought-provoking and, most of all, fun!

sriprabha.com

Readers’ Choice: Adam Sheetz

Dominican-born and South Florida-based Elio Mercado, AKA Evoca1, paints walls with such elegance, it’s safe to call it fine art. His figurative paintings often feature animals and individuals with such fine and stunning details that each piece tells a story rich in depth and soul. Intricate details are mixed with airy swaths of color that add an ethereal feel. He’s a self-taught artist — he grew up in Hollywood — but has honed his craft well enough to get hired for projects by big brands including American Express and the J Dilla Foundation; he’s also worked in London and Mexico. And it’s not just the street art that’s rad; his studio drawings are also impressive.

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Kelcie McQuaid experienced her parents’ divorce and sought solace in art when she was still in her single digits. By age 7, she was helping paint murals in South Florida. By 16, she was interning with the Broward County Cultural Division. She lived with her father — but when he went to live with another woman and left her alone as a teenager, she poured herself into her work, which has resulted in fascinating examinations of how women make their way in the world: their vulnerabilities and their strengths. McQuaid exhibited more than 200 new mixed-media artworks in 2014 and has been featured in more than 80 group shows and three solo shows, including her debut series, “Universe Expanding.” We’d say she’s finding her way just fine.

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Every once in a while, if you’re blessed, you will meet someone so immersed in the world of art that she knows all the artists, knows all their work, and brings it together in a way that it captivates and inspires artists and viewers alike. Lenore Stern Morris, based in Boca Raton, has curated exhibits and galleries from Boca to Miami to Russia, running the gamut from pop art to high art. Her goal, as she often puts it, is to show that art is for everybody. Most recently in Broward County, the art dealer/lecturer/consultant curated the “ComicPop” exhibit at Coral Springs Museum of Art, taking attendees from actual comic-book art to socially conscious pop art, demanding the attention of children and adults simultaneously.

FAT Village generally gets all the credit in Fort Lauderdale.  The enclave of warehouses has trendy kids, fancy film equipment, people paying insane rents, and nice defined borders. But the FAT is part of a bigger area that includes the so-called MASS District (for Music and Arts South of Sunrise; this area incorporates Laser Wolf and Jump the Shark), the Riverwalk Arts & Entertainment District, and Midtown. During the Flagler Art Walk on the last Saturday of each month, you can hop on a trolley and visit Glavovic Studios, Girls’ Club, the Guild 5 Forty Five, and more — including the cool kids in FAT V.

In terms of things to not do, trying to jump a shark is pretty high on the list.  But that doesn’t mean you can’t name your venue after the phrase, which apparently comes from a 1970s TV show. (Everybody said Happy Days started to suck after an episode in which the Fonz, wearing water skis, jumped over a shark.)  Despite that many people in the local scene call JTS “The Bubble” (its former name), owner Garo Gallo appears to be sticking to his guns with the name change.  The revamped venue hosts live music, performance artists, comedy nights, and more.  Some nights, there are cover charges, and other times, it’s free. Beers come from a tap or in bottles. The space is not open on a regular schedule, so sign up for the FB page and get notifications if you wish to find out what surprise lurks tonight.

Step to the right and see an interactive performance piece in FAT Village; walk a block north and see a show by designcentric architecture firm Glavovic Studio; head to Andrews Avenue to visit a major collection at the NSU Museum of Art Fort Lauderdale; stop and grab a cocktail at a drink cart. Art Fallout is the largest art walk in all of Fort Lauderdale. For one evening in mid-October (2015 will mark its sixth year), nearly every art and cultural institution in Fort Lauderdale is open and connected by trolleys that deliver visitors from one venue to another. The synergy is amazing. Thanks for organizing this, Girls’ Club!

When you’re looking for cutting-edge artists and museum-quality exhibitions with a touch of weird, check out anything curated by Bedlam Lorenz Assembly, a nonprofit alternative projects group. This innovative collective brings out South Florida’s arguably most eccentric talent in cohesive exhibitions that wow. Did they really show porn during Art Fallout? Yes. Its “Third Annual Interest” 2015 exhibit showcased works by Broward’s (and some of Miami’s) best local artists: Leah Brown, Francesco Lo Castro, Guerra De La Paz, Christopher MacFarlane, Lisa Rockford, Peter Symons, Michelle Weinberg, and others.

Bailey Contemporary Arts in Pompano Beach offers a space like no other in South Florida. Qualified artists can rent studios here for affordable rates: $205 to $415. The two-story building was a hotel when first erected in 1932, and now, renovated but still airy, it breathes inspiration at every turn. The space feels fresh and cozy in a way that connects folks. Be sure to check out the “Lyrics Lab: Poetry, Beats & Soul” event on Wednesdays, which Ian Caven hosts. Brave participants are backed up with live musicians, on drums and keyboards, to keep the beat going.

Readers’ Choice: Norton Museum of Art

One might assume that antique books or historical letters are collected entirely by museums and libraries, but there is a small cottage industry of people who collect and trade these treasures. Little Sages, run by Kara Accettola, collects and sells private papers, old texts, historical notes written on napkins, and offbeat pieces and matches them to collectors who will love and appreciate them appropriately. It’s not the most common service, but if one is in dire need of rare books or papers, check out Little Sages.

Jane Hart brings more than 20 years of solid expertise in the contemporary art world to her role, having worked at galleries in London, Los Angeles, NYC, and Miami. But more important, she brings with her a dash of sophistication, edginess, and fun. While other museums put on yet another Warhol retrospective or a survey of 17th-century judeo-pan-pacific pottery (zzzzzzz), she’s throwing down a killer reception, hosting an interactive installation, or filling her rooms with weird and wondrous treasures. Last year, for instance, she featured an exhibit exploring the imagery on tarot cards; this summer, there’s a show inspired by the hallucinogen LSD. Sri Prabha’s work inspired by space and biology pushed brains to the limit; Agustina Woodgate’s rugs made of stuffed animal skins gave everyone the feels. Lowbrow or highbrow, nearly every exhibition that Hart curates boasts a vision that’s avant-garde and fantastic. That the spunky tastemaker is warm and mom-like is a bonus: If she believes in an emerging artist’s work, she will help foster a budding career.

There’s something to be said for chewing the scenery, for playing the loudest notes so powerfully and incessantly that everything, for a brief time, disappears, until that one performance is all that remains. In her opening scene as Margaret White, Carrie’s fundamentalist wacko mom in Slow Burn’s Carrie: The Musical, Keelor consumed everything — the set, the music, the title character — with her unquenchable hysteria. You hated her character as much as you’d ever hated anyone on a stage in that moment, but you were transfixed. You couldn’t help but marvel at her acidic delivery of every biblical condemnation aimed at her newly menstruating offspring, every physically abusive overreaction. She was — and there’s no better word for it — possessed. Act II was something else, however; unlike Piper Laurie’s one-note, batshit performance in the 1976 movie adaptation, Keelor’s Margaret earned your pity and sympathy with the most moving number in the show, bringing the emotional house down just before Carrie’s oppressors showered it in blood.

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The greatest compliment to Ann Marie Olson’s performance in Thinking Cap Theatre’s Always… Patsy Cline is that I forgot I was watching Ann Marie Olson. This is what it means to disappear completely within a character, in this case this doomed singer who brought Nashville country music into the pop mainstream before perishing in a plane crash at age 30. With very little dialogue, Olson captured Patsy Cline’s exuberant spirit and fundamental kindness — but what’s more impressive was her pitch-perfect mastery of 27 Cline songs, from hits like “Crazy” and “Wa kin’ After Midnight” to the more-obscure selections that would fill four-hour set lists at forgotten ’50s honky-tonks. They’re all a far cry from the traditional Broadway vocal arrangements Olson has conquered for Slow Burn Theatre, yet they seemed as comfortable leaving Olson’s lips as church hymns to a reverend. If there were ever a local production that deserved its own cast album, it’s this one.

Effusively praised in his every performance but criminally overlooked during awards season, Ethan Henry’s virtuosic talents helped elevate Primal Forces’ Sunset Baby from a squalid drama of criminal desperation on society’s fringes to a tragic character study of a family ripped asunder. As a drug dealer and deadbeat father prone to fits of rage and jealousy, he was the wrench preventing the already rusted-out gears of his girlfriend and her estranged father (an excellent Makeba Pace and John Archie) from turning toward each other again. From his character’s sneaky intelligence to his uninhibited sexuality, he blustered across his dingy apartment with the laser focus of a young Brando, and you got the impression he’d lived this man his entire life, not for the three weeks (at most!) of rehearsal. In the play’s most captivating scene, he rampaged the apartment wordlessly in search of a secret, proving that even without deploying that deep, baby-makin’ voice, Henry commanded our attention just the same.

@Ethan76

Shelly “The Machine” Levene, Rob Donahoe’s character in Maltz Jupiter Theatre’s Glengarry Glen Ross, is the last of his breed: a dinosaur from an earlier era of real-estate sales, facing extinction from the younger, filthier, more Machiavellian sociopaths who share space in his dingy Chicago office. Donahoe’s portrait of Shelly’s sheer desperation, colored by a nervous twitching of the legs, was heartbreaking to watch. And his faultless reading of David Mamet’s intimidatingly difficult staccato speech vividly realized what, on the page, could resemble a messy word salad. Like a sputtering lawn mower emitting just enough power that you don’t want to toss it out to pasture just yet, Donahoe made me care more deeply for the character than any previous production I’d seen of Glengarry, elevating him from one character in an ensemble to the show’s bona fide lead.

This LGBT-focused theater company in Fort Lauderdale gained inestimable respect in 2013, when its acclaimed production of the Holocaust drama The Timekeepers scored six Carbonell Awards. It has kept up that winning track record since, beginning as one of a handful of theaters to share the offbeat space at Empire Stage and emerging as its most important lessee, playing to capacity audiences night after night. The keen eyes of artistic directors Andy Rogow and Michael Leeds are largely to thank for its success. Over the past year, they took a chance on world premieres — Michael McKeever’s devastating Daniel’s Husband and Michael Aman’s POZ, an implacable ensemble dramedy concerning AIDS and spirituality — while mounting South Florida premieres of the acerbic Hollywood satire The Little Dog Laughed and the surrealist masterpiece Octopus. All were gay-specific but universally relatable, transcending the company’s niche and resulting in must-see theater for all.

Readers’ Choice: The Broward Center for the Performing Arts

The world of five-star restaurants is kind of like the world of the theater. In both cases, the roiling backstage environment is a far cry from the perfectly presented machine the audience sees. Sean McClelland’s scenic design in the Broward Center’s Fully Committed envisioned the lowest rung in a restaurant’s totem pole, a reservations room tucked away in the bowels of the restaurant, notches below even the private, profanity-laden hothouse known as the kitchen. As the place where an overworked phone jockey spent one hectic evening fielding phone calls from friends, parents, rivals, superagents, and desperate debutantes, McClelland’s design was part man-cave, part dungeon, part collection of curiosities whose lack of explanation added to the set’s quirky memorability. As uninviting as a Third World prison yet stuffed to the brim with ornamental gewgaws, the set epitomized its inhabitant’s saving grace: his ability to bring character and color to a drab, soul-draining job.

2012’s film adaptation of Les Miserables was punishing, and by now, it’s hard to get enthused about seeing yet another regional production of this hulking warhorse. But Maltz Jupiter Theatre’s superlative, standard-bearing mounting of the operatic Boublil and Schonberg classic breathed new and inspired life into the familiar text. Every element of the production was a dazzling showcase of deeply considered craftsmanship, from Paul Black’s heavenly tunnels of light to Gail Baldoni’s bounteous variety of period-perfect costumes to Paul Tate DePoo III’s towering, ominous set design to Marty Mets’ sound design, which ensured that the actors’ soaring voices cut through the shifting sonic landscape with crystal clarity. As for those 26 voices onstage? Simply miraculous. The show opened only in March, but no matter what musicals open for the remainder of the year, this Les Miz is clearly the musical to beat headed into next year’s Carbonell Awards.

The year’s winner for this category comes with some bittersweet sentiment. Just as the Theatre at Arts Garage’s final show of the season, Uncertain Terms, was about to take its first bow, artistic director Lou Tyrrell announced that he would be leaving the company at the end of it. At least he followed an old show-biz manta: Leave ’em wanting more. Though it consisted of just three plays, Arts Garage’s 2014-15 theater season was arguably its most accomplished and satisfying slate of plays yet, all written by female playwrights. The How and the Why, selected by Tyrrell but directed by consummate freelancer Margaret Ledford, explored issues of evolutionary biology in a brainy and demanding production; I and You tackled teenage angst and the timeless poetry of Walt Whitman while packing a metaphysical punch; and Uncertain Terms featured a quintet of South Florida’s finest actors translating a challenging new work with aplomb. Each of these plays was drastically underattended, so it’s no surprise Tyrrell would want to flee to a more hospitable venue. Whatever his future holds, his final season at Arts Garage will be a tough act to follow.

With Daniel’s Husband, Michael McKeever proved that even after years of writing award-winning South Florida premieres, he’s still getting better. As Island City Stage’s riveting capstone to its best season yet, Daniel’s Husband started off as the kind of breezy, erudite comedy McKeever can write in his sleep. At a dinner gathering of two gay couples, we learned the hosts, Mitchell and his partner Daniel, have opposing views of marriage: Mitchell was philosophically opposed to it, and Daniel was waiting — sometimes more patiently than others — for his boyfriend to come around. What made the play uniquely powerful is that it enjoyed its world premiere the year same-sex marriage became legal in Florida. For the first time in history, its characters had the same choice to wed as straight couples have for centuries — and with that choice came responsibility. When tragedy struck Daniel in a bold, twist-ending Act I, the play became a tear-jerking cautionary tale about the perils of voluntarily staying separate but equal, and there was never a question of the playwright’s stance on the issue. Hopefully, this brave and personal work’s Florida debut will be its first stop of many.

Rodney Mayo, he who has given us pretty much every cool nightclub and restaurant in Broward and Palm Beach for four decades, is on a perpetual mission to improve West Palm Beach’s downtown. Camelot, his 13th establishment, is the newest addition to his portfolio. An antithesis to Mayo’s early punk pits like Respectable Street and Lost Weekend, Camelot is a grownup lounge that brings upscale late-night entertainment to the Clematis area. The club’s design is an homage to the Kennedys and their love of the ocean, sailing, and Palm Beach. There’s a bar that serves lobster and a DJ booth that looks like the front of a yacht. With only premium spirits and a membership card needed to get past the doorman, Camelot isn’t exactly attracting the college bro crowd — and that’s by design.

A ballsy show in more ways than one, Island City Stage’s Octopus explored the potential perils of unprotected sex through a surrealist conceit that would make Eugene Ionesco proud. It starts with a shockingly frank orgy involving two male couples, their sexual maneuvering choreographed like a ballet. But the weirdness comes later, in the aftermath of the encounter, when one character apparently takes up residence at the bottom of the ocean and sends cryptic missives to his friends and lovers through a creepy telegraph boy. Andy Rogow’s fearless direction plunged into depths few theater companies would dare explore, resulting in a groundbreaking drama that was strange, visceral, and altogether physical, from its many-tentacled tangle of nude flesh to the realistic brawls of its climactic finish, staged in and around a pool of water. Those in the front row could have been warned they’d be sitting in a Sea World-like splash zone, but that would have dampened the show’s immersive excitement: We were all in it together.

If Ferris Bueller were a millennial, he would skip lunch at Chez Quis, ditch the parade, and head straight for Scarlett’s. For at Scarlett’s, not only is lunch free — with a drink purchase — but he could dock that 1961 Ferrari 250 GT at the complimentary valet to the tune of Yello’s “Oh Yeah” as luscious ladies of every flavor paraded through the 25,000-square-foot venue like a winding assembly line of sexy. (And yes, they do strut their stuff to “Oh Yeah.”) There is no better place in South Florida to dine on filet mignon sliders ($15) while feasting your eyes on the sexiest bodies the Sunshine State has to offer. Scarlett’s boasts eight stages, 11 poles, 16 private suites, and plenty of VIP seating. And if you’re wondering how the girls keep in such stunning shape, just take a moment to admire the way they slide up and down the pole. Up and down. Up and down…

Readers’ Choice: Scarlett’s Cabaret

For working South Florida musicians, playing live music is always a tough venture. The money never quite seems adequate for the task, and like so many things that get debased, a culture of “doing it for the sake of doing it” arises. Hunters, however, is one of the rare places that gives musicians their chance and helps line their pockets a little. The bar established a “Live on the Drive” music series, letting live bands take over the dance floor and feeding the community’s ears with what they’ve been missing. In addition to sonic nourishment, patrons can expect quality drinks at a reasonable price: $5 craft bourbons, $3 craft beers, and $2 draft beers. Singer Kat Riggins and Blues Revival play the first Wednesday of every month.

We may or may not have a gay uncle who may or may not drive over from the west coast specifically to come to this bar, and he may or may not have errantly left his cock ring on the floor of the guest bedroom where he was staying, and we may or may not have picked it up inquisitively, not knowing what it was. Until we went to Ramrod. Now we know.

Readers’ Choice: Vibe

We must confess, it’s a depressing fact that Broward lacks any “one” spot for ladies who love ladies. Where are we, girls? Too tired from a day of unloading the U-Haul to get out at night for a round of Dos Equis? The good news is that there are so many lesbians on this sunny Southern tip of America’s wang that the probability of running into a group of them is very, very high. So high that your girl probably dated one of them, and that ex’s best friend just scheduled a tire slashing for later this evening. You’ve been warned.

The goal of kava and hookah bars is the same as the wares they peddle: relaxation. Friendly and knowledgeable, the staff at Awa Na will teach you about kava and set you up with either a bowl or shell of your chosen kava flavor, then set you up with a hookah and give you the run of the place. Darts, cornhole, videogames — the place is filled with stuff to do. Furthermore, it hosts karaoake, comedy, and trivia nights. Forget that pitcher of beer; this is the way to blow off steam.

What makes a biker bar the best? Tough babes, cold brews, and long beards. At J.S. Lounge, you get all that, plus good conversation over an icy, $3 Yuengling with guys who look like they could be members of Z.Z. Top (and chances are, they’ve got a story about this one time backstage with Billy and Dusty and a couple o’ girls…). When a live band’s not playing, J.S. flaunts a stocked karaoke machine for your “Green Grass and High Tides” fix. And if a guy named Milwaukee Jack tells you to pick a couple of songs, follow his advice and “just don’t play none o’ that disco shit.”

Stout doesn’t mess around. You know what you’re getting before your shadow even darkens the doorway. Located on Andrews Avenue, just where Oakland Park’s residential neighborhoods brush up against Oakland Park Boulevard’s commercial strips, Stout is hard to miss. Driving up, you can spot the signage: a huge glass of Guinness-looking beer, big as a Macy’s parade float. Inside, the place is no-frills. That’s not to say that Stout lacks an aesthetic. The entire bar is covered in Old Chicago Brick, so you feel like you’re walking into a castle’s secret drinking lair. And with 40 flat-screen TVs planted around the bar as well as more than 60 beers on the menu, the bar is a good place to camp out on an NFL Sunday or for a string of NBA playoff matchups. And when your team tanks (because your team always tanks, right?), Stout has about 100 whiskeys with which to obliterate the loss.

Readers’ Choice: Bru’s Room

As part of Fort Lauderdale Beach’s famous Ocean Manor Resort, the Bamboo Beach Club & Tiki Bar has developed a reputation apart from its iconic neighbor. Whereas Ocean Manor oozes a South Beach glitz, Bamboo Beach is all old-school Florida — jiggling flesh, sunburns, and thatched roofs. Although it might not initially complement the swanky Ocean Manor at first blush, consider that sometimes, you want to sip a fancy cocktail; sometimes, you want to shotgun a Milwaukee’s Best. The Bamboo made an appearance on season two of Spike TV’s Bar Rescue, and the recovery process seems to be well underway.

Lauderdale-by-the-Sea has never looked better. The chunk of land home to the Commercial Pier and Kilwins has recently had a face-lift and is now a pedestrian-friendly, brightly colored plaza that attracts both locals and tourists. But while there are a lot of new sights and sounds down by the beach in LBS, there are also some old classics — places that haven’t changed in years and haven’t changed for a reason. The Village Pump — the bar and Siamese twin of the adjoining Village Grille — has been bringing a little slice of Boston to the beach for years. There aren’t many pubs in this world where you can grab a pint of Guinness while listening to waves crash. This joint is close enough to the beach to enjoy all the sights and sounds but far enough away that you don’t have to worry about seagulls stealing your French fries.

Gay dive bars are a mixed bag. Step into a random one off the street and you can either end up hanging with some of the grimiest horndogs or the coolest queer barflies around. Hit up Smarty Pants for the latter. It claims to be the oldest alt lifestyle bar in town, known variously over the past 30 years as the Bushes, Little Jim’s, and Simba’s Lounge. It’s definitely one of the chillest watering holes — gay or straight — that you’ll find in Fort Lauderdale. It has an annual chili cook-off and a trivia night on Thursdays at 6 p.m. If you want to drink to some celestial singing voices, its karaoke nights showcase some fine-ass pipes (Friday and Saturday 9 p.m. to 1 a.m., Sunday 3 to 7 p.m.). Drinks are dirt-cheap, and the people are the friendliest. If you don’t want to peep any one-eyed snakes, though, just don’t look up at the TV screens above the bar. If you do, keep staring; no one’ll judge.

Readers’ Choice: Original Fat Cats

Maybe it’s the divey charm. Or the old-school porn on massive flat-screen TVs. Or a bartender who can open a Bud Light with one elegant clench of her buttocks. Kind of a turn on, yes? Stick around for a half an hour and that bathroom will start making sense. Disclaimer: Take too long and you’ll have the staff calling you out on your whereabouts. But when you emerge from its wood-paneled wonderland, you’ll be received with smiles and winks from everyone at the bar. But no high-fives, please. We don’t know where those hands have been.

The brainy hipsters behind FAT Village’s C&I Studios Inc. refer to Next Door on their website as a “creative art studio, coffee shop, and lounge.” We don’t speak fluent creative-type, but we’re guessing that translates into “good-ass place to hang.” Fort Lauderdale’s hip hood is growing like a Hialeah gym rat after a cycle of HGH. Next Door has become a unique drinking option for folks who have logged too many hours in Laser Wolf. Half the room has an art-studio vibe; the other looks like a used bookstore. In between is an ample bar space where you can waste the hours guzzling craft cocktails.

In the end, a good bar is one that makes it easy to kill time, and you could comfortably slaughter a whole week at Turn3. The West Boca watering hole is parked in a retail space in a boring-looking shopping center. But through the doors, you’ll find yourself in a place that has more fun stuff scheduled than a weeklong Carnival cruise. And at Turn3, you won’t have to worry about sunburn and the norovirus. Monday night, the bar hosts an open-mic jam session for whoever wants to channel his or her inner Sammy Hagar. Tuesdays, the bar hosts a dart league, and Wednesday is Texas Hold ‘Em poker night. Friday and Saturday, live music blares from the bar’s stage, and Sunday is karaoke night. Couple the smorgasbord of activities with cheap prices and a friendly atmosphere and you’ve got a perfect home away from home.

Readers’ Choice: Tanzy

“Malt does more than Milton can/To justify God’s ways to man.” OK, you’re not going to find that sort of high-brow couplet on the marquee above this Lake Worth watering hole, a low-life highlight of threadbare Dixie Highway, where a shot and a beer is the style. But the bar owners are damned witty, their sign out front featuring a new zinger each week, like: “I taught Christian Grey all that stuff”; “Tim Tebow in NYC will be bonking a Kardashian in no time”; and “Welcome to Lake Worth: A drinking town with a beach problem.” Such boozy insights and wry resignation have a certain integrity of their own, though no one involved, proprietors or patrons, would presume to any aspiration higher than “Let’s have another.”

Readers’ Choice:

There are bars, and then there are dive bars. And then, way on the bottom of the spectrum below those, you’ve got the Bimini Bay Bar. Hard-core porn playing on the TV? Drinks served by the actresses in said hard-core porn? Yup. We’d go on to tell you about the cheap drink specials, but at this point, why bother? The grimy porn-shoot-meets-garbage-dump aesthetic of the Bimini Bay Bar makes it a necessary stop for anyone just passing through town. But the secret of the oversexed bar? Everyone is damned nice there. For real. Go forth and enjoy.

Readers’ Choice: Whiskey Tango

Just two blocks from the sun-baked Florida sand sits this homey Irish-style pub with polished wood walls and Guinness on tap. Miniature clipper boats sit atop the door awning and welcome you into the self-described hole in the wall. On any given day, the jukebox will be playing classic-rock and top 40 hits as the friendly bartenders serve cold beer and patrons swap stories about fishing or sunbathing. But the true takeaway from Ocean Mist is the cozy feel — the place looks like a sea mariner’s living room, with low ceilings and walls covered with sailor figurines and wooden-boat steering wheels. Some people say South Florida lacks authentic pubs, but Ocean Mist proves that theory wrong.

Readers’ Choice: Tap 42

There are plenty of bars along the beach in Deerfield, but the days of blue-collar dives are going by the wayside in favor of swanky lounges serving cuisine from countries on lists of “hot places to go.” But sometimes you just need a damned beer — and Rattlesnake Jake’s will give it to you. Although it can get a little cramped at night, Jake’s is a casual place to kick back with a cold one and people in Salt Life T-shirts. The walls at this old-school dive are covered with photos of people showing off a giant fish they caught. Really — all the walls, from top to bottom. The Tex-Mex food is also a draw, with delicious fish tacos and sizzling fajitas that can be washed down with all the normal-folk beer you need: Budweiser, Bud Light, and Blue Moon.

Readers’ Choice: Funky Buddha

Boring holes in the walls whose big promotion is five-buck Miller Lite pitchers are dying a slow, yet just, death. As bars that haven’t changed since the 1980s refelt their pool tables, places like Tap 42 continue to pick up their customers left and right. All the way from its vast assortment of crazy-ass craft beers down to the sweet potato fries, Tap 42 laps the competition when it comes to quality. It doesn’t hurt that Tap 42 is located inside a beautiful building, with ample outdoor seating that gives the place a chill vibe. The owners are already planning new locations, praise be.

It’s not every day you find a mayoral candidate mixing your Jack and Cokes. But if you sidle up to the bar top at Oakland Park’s Big Dog Station when Chris Brennan is pouring the drinks, you’ll be in the presence of a Broward political mover and shaker. The Fort Lauderdale-born and -bred Brennan, a former park ranger, first made a splash when he lost his gig as a water-taxi driver after speaking out in opposition to Marina Lofts, the downtown Fort Lauderdale development that threatens a 90-year-old tree. Brennan later launched a quixotic and gonzo bid for Jack Seiler’s seat in City Hall. “I hate to admit this, but I know I am going to lose,” the friendly candidate told New Times shortly before the election. But as long-shot as his campaign was, it gave voice to a slice of Fort Lauderdale that usually gets overshadowed by men in suits. He fought the good fight. Tell him so next time you’re ordering that Miller Lite.

Readers’ Choice: Lisa Radwan, Village Pub Wilton Manors

The worst happy-hour scheme ever created is when the discount is only on a specific beer — usually the worst domestic brew on hand. But at this nascent burger and beer joint, the happy-hour special offers all beers, including a long list of local craft brews, for a mere $4. And it doesn’t skimp on time either, with the happy hour lasting between 11 a.m. and 7 p.m. Monday through Friday, which makes it way too easy to get buzzed during lunch and drunk after work. Well drinks and house wine go for $5. And when your stomach is aching for something solid after all those cheap drinks, a full menu is available with delicious comfort food, including a deep-fried, bacon-wrapped hot dog served on a baguette.

Readers’ Choice: Bull Market

First, scaffolding started to go up. Then a dark figure began to take shape. The people of Hallandale whispered, “What is it?” It was a beast. An ancient, mythical beast. For some reason, the owner of Gulfstream Park decided to have a 110-foot-tall bronze Pegasus erected on his property. The winged horse playing with a dragon amid water fountains, which cost $30 million to build, will resonate with you — maybe in a good way, maybe in a “WTF!!??” way. Obviously, the only way to mentally process this is with a selfie.