We launched the mayor's gay campaign last night at the same place we started two years ago: Twist. Our lovable, seventy-year-old grandmother/mayor remains very popular and enjoys great admiration for not being in the pocket of the Cuban lobby, the Jewish lobby, or the developers; they had all gone over to her opponent two years ago since everyone knew money wins. Well, it didn't. So ordinarily, Madame Mayor would be a shoe-in, but it is an off-year election and strange things can happen. So we reminded everyone to vote and remember the woman who created a gay business advisory board (which I foolishly declined an appointment to) and funded the first Gay Pride parade on The Beach in 25 years.
The owners of Twist, Joel and Richard, were tickled pink by the turnout and we all enjoyed a great cookout in the garden. Please note (as if I have to tell you) the handsome gentleman on the right. He was Mattie's driver and escort, is a fireman, and is president of the fire fighter's union. He is named after a Greek god, for good reason. Everyone was going ga-ga over him and as we made our way to the garden, I overheard him ask the mayor, "Will it look strange if I hold your hand?" "Oh, no", Mattie laughed, "if anyone wants to touch YOU they won't be reaching for your hand." We all cackled over that one.

Dr. Brad wasted no time in finding a home for his left hand. I remember telling Dr. Brad that I was willing to set myself on fire in order to be rescued.

Only in South Beach: A photo of The Queen, The Mayor, and The President.