Those who dare upset the status quo can be dangerous (like those death-defying drivers on Interstate 95) or they can be entertaining and basically harmless, like the illegal pirate station 90.9-FM, which has shoehorned itself into a spot on the dial. Sure, it upsets folks like the legitimate stations whose signal it smothers. But it's easy to appreciate an outlet for FCC-verboten sounds (like gangsta rap with every outlawed word plainly audible) with no commercials or fund-raising drives. Founder Mark T is doing the Nine-Oh for the right reasons: He's motivated not by a desire to make money but simply by the hope that he can string together a community of microhoods across Broward County -- and have a great deal of fun in the process. This unmediated brand of lunacy, even more enjoyable because it's so naughty, reaches a party-flavored zenith with shout-out dedications, on-air freestyle contests, and a genuinely raucous, home-brewed brand of idiocy that beats commercial radio's manufactured idiocy hands-down.

Those who dare upset the status quo can be dangerous (like those death-defying drivers on Interstate 95) or they can be entertaining and basically harmless, like the illegal pirate station 90.9-FM, which has shoehorned itself into a spot on the dial. Sure, it upsets folks like the legitimate stations whose signal it smothers. But it's easy to appreciate an outlet for FCC-verboten sounds (like gangsta rap with every outlawed word plainly audible) with no commercials or fund-raising drives. Founder Mark T is doing the Nine-Oh for the right reasons: He's motivated not by a desire to make money but simply by the hope that he can string together a community of microhoods across Broward County -- and have a great deal of fun in the process. This unmediated brand of lunacy, even more enjoyable because it's so naughty, reaches a party-flavored zenith with shout-out dedications, on-air freestyle contests, and a genuinely raucous, home-brewed brand of idiocy that beats commercial radio's manufactured idiocy hands-down.

Upper-crust audiophiles in South Florida moaned December 31 when WTMI shed its 30-year tradition of playing classical music in favor of a format that caters to the younger techno-dance crowd. It morphed into "Party 93" as executives explained that classical fogies just didn't spend enough money with their advertisers to keep them going. Party now crows that it plays fewer commercials than its competition, WPOW-FM (Power 96.5). But all is not lost for those who know that Claudio Monteverdi, Michael Praetorius, and Cesar Franck are not Marlins relief pitchers. Boynton Beach's WXEL-FM (90.7) began Saturday matinees of classical broadcasts in early February. And WTMI's classical tradition continues on-line at its Website, which links to Beethoven.com's Internet radio.