Lately, places like St. Pete have been adopting policies that give priority to local contracting firms (or ones that hire local workers) when they take bids for construction projects.
A bill that would preempt such policies when a certain percentage of state money is slated for a given project has made its way to the Senate floor in Tallahassee, which means it has a pretty good shot at passing.
While it's not nearly the source of alarm or stigma it was 20 or 30 years ago (nor is it the death sentence), HIV/AIDS is still around, and as a generation of kids who inherited the condition from their birth mothers comes of age rather than contracting it through sexual acts or sharing needles, public perception of it continues to change.
Welcome to America, where we like to keep our kids sheltered and stupid, so that later we can blame their stupidity on them rather than us, and make sure they're too busy avoiding the shiv to overcome their own stupidity while repaying society for the stupidity of the actions we never thought to teach them to avoid. And it must work, because somebody's making money off that shit, or we'd find something different, right?
So high school students in Zephyrhills with a GPA below 2.0 will heretofore be escorted to the bathroom when they leave class, so they don't do dumbass things like tag lockers or rob a bodega or just forget to breathe and die of dumbass-ness, or something. I suppose that's easier than actually giving them something that makes them not want to do dumbass things, like inspiring them or engaging their imaginations or whatever. May I be excused?
As the real estate markets heat up again, the scale of new construction confounds Tampa Bay residents, particularly in posh areas. The 1 percent are buying and building and bulging out of their land-use corsets, with mechanical muffintops annoying the neighbors.
What does this rush of development, with its collateral damage of demolitions, mean to the traditional scale of these older neighborhoods? It dramatically impacts the scale and rhythm of the remaining homes, with their gardens and lower profiles, and replaces reasonably sized homes with McMansions.
Remember that time when St. Pete Mayor Rick Kriseman and the Tampa Bay Rays execs forged a deal that would have allowed the team to look at potential stadium sites? And how it didn't go over so well with a majority of City Council members once they realized the team was making out like a bunch of well-heeled bandits?
Well, Mayor Kriseman wants another go at a stadium deal, and this Friday he'll send Council a revised version of the agreement they rejected.
Remember a month or two back, when we told you about that nice young man who set up a gun range in his dad's yard in St. Pete? And by gun range we mean a huge pile of sand with wood pallets stuck to it?
Well, it turns out that range and others like it are still legal in Florida, and will be for the foreseeable future.
Sometimes Tuesdays are like the anonymous guy in line behind you as you check out at Target who says something good-natured and gives you a little chuckle — you'll forget about it by Wednesday, until something down the road reminds you, and you smile again. Some Tuesdays, on the other hand, are like a wicked drowning riptide you weren't warned about — one whose inexorable grip nearly kills you, before you just barely drag yourself out of it, retching and sore. Those Tuesdays, you don't forget so easily.
Yesterday was somewhere in the middle, I guess.
The highly contested and downright nasty Tampa City Council District 6 runoff election is over, with Guido Maniscalco taking the seat by a nose (and, some might say, the ethical high ground). So it's over, and we have a winner. So, how come it feels like everybody lost?
No matter which point on the political spectrum you occupy, if you live in Tampa's District 6 you can now collectively celebrate something really special: the fact that it will be a while before you get any more of those nasty campaign mailers that have been recently constituting half of your trash.