WLRN-FM (91.3) Sounds of the Caribbean has been a presence on South Florida's airwaves since 1979, when none other than Bob Marley convinced host Clint O'Neil that he could be an important voice of island culture in Miami, a city that could be called the capital of the Caribbean. Until recently, O'Neil's Monday-through-Friday, late-night broadcasts were supplemented with two weekend editions hosted by Kevin "Ital-K" Smith, but Smith's early Sunday and Monday morning shows were replaced with BBC News by station management in October. It's a shame Smith's quick wit and sharp British accent is no longer heard, but O'Neil is still on from 2 to 7 a.m. Sundays, laying down tracks from nearly every tropical genre, from soca to rocksteady and dancehall through Afro-Cuban. Through the Internet, the station reaches listeners worldwide. The show breaks up the canned chatter and carefully calculated playlists that rule the corporately controlled medium of radio today.

No roody poo yakkety-yak at Florida Master Barber, where Fresh (Mark Bierre) wields his blades. Sit down. How do you want it? Short. Fade? Yeah, a little fade. Out come the black smock and the Father O'Brien white paper strip around the throat. Then the master does his thing. One length of clippers for the back of the head. Then another to mow that pesky neck hair out back. Here come the scissors for the crown. Then more clippers over the top, back around the sides. The big, fluffy brush sweeps the shoulders. Then the sideburns get mowed to match that fly fade. Those stray eyebrow hairs wandering toward the temples finally get their comeuppance. The two-day stubble is buzzed away to a nice, kiss-me-wherever-you-want smoothness. More clippers, sharpening the edges around the forehead. Then a dollop of hair gel and an aerosol coating of olive oil, for that magical Friday-night sheen. Now who's lookin' good? You are, you sharp son of a bitch. You're un-frickin'-stoppable. And you're out only $10, not counting what ought to be a fat-ass tip for the man with the mirror.

No roody poo yakkety-yak at Florida Master Barber, where Fresh (Mark Bierre) wields his blades. Sit down. How do you want it? Short. Fade? Yeah, a little fade. Out come the black smock and the Father O'Brien white paper strip around the throat. Then the master does his thing. One length of clippers for the back of the head. Then another to mow that pesky neck hair out back. Here come the scissors for the crown. Then more clippers over the top, back around the sides. The big, fluffy brush sweeps the shoulders. Then the sideburns get mowed to match that fly fade. Those stray eyebrow hairs wandering toward the temples finally get their comeuppance. The two-day stubble is buzzed away to a nice, kiss-me-wherever-you-want smoothness. More clippers, sharpening the edges around the forehead. Then a dollop of hair gel and an aerosol coating of olive oil, for that magical Friday-night sheen. Now who's lookin' good? You are, you sharp son of a bitch. You're un-frickin'-stoppable. And you're out only $10, not counting what ought to be a fat-ass tip for the man with the mirror.

We know that a lot of guys, including mayors, enjoy some Internet porn. And there's nothing wrong with that as long as you play by a couple of rules. First of all, you gotta keep your wanking rate below that of the average zoo monkey. And second, you need to hide your tracks. Everybody knows it's going on, but that doesn't mean anybody wants to see evidence of it. And it's that second part where long-time Pembroke Pines Mayor Alex Fekete screwed up in a big way. He sent his personal laptop computer to the city techies to have it repaired for a virus and left, oh, about 23,000 pornographic photos on there for all to see (which makes us wonder if he also didn't break rule number one, as well). And see the smut, city employees did. Then they sent it to the State Attorney's Office for an investigation. Thankfully, there were no charges, since there was no child porn in the mix. I'm not sure, but if you've got 23,000 dirty pictures on your computer, it's no wonder you picked up a virus. Fekete, in his defense, insinuated that some saboteur had infected his computer with the porn. Yes, the dreaded evildoer Pornman struck again. Now this was all a major-league F-up, but it's not even his biggest gaffe. Hell, it happened three years ago, and somehow Fekete escaped media scrutiny. No, where Fekete really whacked himself, so to speak, was by bringing up his little pornodrama at a political function in February. To a group of retirees, no less. It was a pathetic attempt at damage control, since the Herald and Sun-Sentinel jumped on the story. Well, to make a long story a little longer, Fekete isn't the mayor anymore. The disturbed retirees voted him right out of office in March. The good news: Now he has plenty of time to pursue his other, um, interests.

We know that a lot of guys, including mayors, enjoy some Internet porn. And there's nothing wrong with that as long as you play by a couple of rules. First of all, you gotta keep your wanking rate below that of the average zoo monkey. And second, you need to hide your tracks. Everybody knows it's going on, but that doesn't mean anybody wants to see evidence of it. And it's that second part where long-time Pembroke Pines Mayor Alex Fekete screwed up in a big way. He sent his personal laptop computer to the city techies to have it repaired for a virus and left, oh, about 23,000 pornographic photos on there for all to see (which makes us wonder if he also didn't break rule number one, as well). And see the smut, city employees did. Then they sent it to the State Attorney's Office for an investigation. Thankfully, there were no charges, since there was no child porn in the mix. I'm not sure, but if you've got 23,000 dirty pictures on your computer, it's no wonder you picked up a virus. Fekete, in his defense, insinuated that some saboteur had infected his computer with the porn. Yes, the dreaded evildoer Pornman struck again. Now this was all a major-league F-up, but it's not even his biggest gaffe. Hell, it happened three years ago, and somehow Fekete escaped media scrutiny. No, where Fekete really whacked himself, so to speak, was by bringing up his little pornodrama at a political function in February. To a group of retirees, no less. It was a pathetic attempt at damage control, since the Herald and Sun-Sentinel jumped on the story. Well, to make a long story a little longer, Fekete isn't the mayor anymore. The disturbed retirees voted him right out of office in March. The good news: Now he has plenty of time to pursue his other, um, interests.

Top Ten Reasons Why Primavera Is Better Than the Italian Restaurant You Go To:

10. You can't fool all of the people all of the time -- Primavera's been around since 1985.

9. Wait staff isn't snobby, nor is it informal to the point of saying things like "Fuhgeddaboudit!"

8. Roasted pepper antipasto comes spiked with curry.

7. Do the owners of your favorite place have cool names like Primavera's husband-wife team of Giacomo and Melody?

6. Innovative culinary combinations like zucchini-crusted rack of lamb with Marsala date sauce; grilled salmon with pink grapefruit and merlot; pasta with fagioli.

5. Romantic ambiance can lead to amorous payoff that makes pricey bill seem a bargain.

4. Extensive wine list reasonably priced.

3. Two words: homemade pasta.

2. Frank Sinatra once ate here.

1. Because we say so, and we're experts.

Top Ten Reasons Why Primavera Is Better Than the Italian Restaurant You Go To:

10. You can't fool all of the people all of the time -- Primavera's been around since 1985.

9. Wait staff isn't snobby, nor is it informal to the point of saying things like "Fuhgeddaboudit!"

8. Roasted pepper antipasto comes spiked with curry.

7. Do the owners of your favorite place have cool names like Primavera's husband-wife team of Giacomo and Melody?

6. Innovative culinary combinations like zucchini-crusted rack of lamb with Marsala date sauce; grilled salmon with pink grapefruit and merlot; pasta with fagioli.

5. Romantic ambiance can lead to amorous payoff that makes pricey bill seem a bargain.

4. Extensive wine list reasonably priced.

3. Two words: homemade pasta.

2. Frank Sinatra once ate here.

1. Because we say so, and we're experts.

The Pissarro dynasty aside, it's not often that you find more than one generation of artistic brilliance in the same family. The Palm Beach Institute of Contemporary Art took advantage of this art-world quirk last year with "The Smiths: Tony, Kiki, Seton," the first exhibition to encompass works by minimalist artist Tony Smith and two of his daughters. Dad was first an architect, then an art patron -- his collection included works by such abstract expressionists as Pollock and Rothko -- and finally an artist himself. The mathematical precision of architecture is prominent in Tony's works, including the huge The Keys to Given! (the title comes from James Joyce's Finnegans Wake), a large, black, steel sculpture you can actually walk through. It's too bad Tony didn't live long enough to see daughters Kiki and Seton hit their stride as artists. Kiki's fascination with the human body is evident in media as diverse as metal sculpture, ink drawing, and mixed media. The Paris-based Seton, in sharp contrast with both father and sister, works in photography, specifically large Cibachrome photographs that are, intentionally, ever-so-slightly out of focus. This beautifully assembled show, including more than 60 works created over the course of half a century, is a bracing reminder of the many ways artistic talent blossoms and flourishes.

The Pissarro dynasty aside, it's not often that you find more than one generation of artistic brilliance in the same family. The Palm Beach Institute of Contemporary Art took advantage of this art-world quirk last year with "The Smiths: Tony, Kiki, Seton," the first exhibition to encompass works by minimalist artist Tony Smith and two of his daughters. Dad was first an architect, then an art patron -- his collection included works by such abstract expressionists as Pollock and Rothko -- and finally an artist himself. The mathematical precision of architecture is prominent in Tony's works, including the huge The Keys to Given! (the title comes from James Joyce's Finnegans Wake), a large, black, steel sculpture you can actually walk through. It's too bad Tony didn't live long enough to see daughters Kiki and Seton hit their stride as artists. Kiki's fascination with the human body is evident in media as diverse as metal sculpture, ink drawing, and mixed media. The Paris-based Seton, in sharp contrast with both father and sister, works in photography, specifically large Cibachrome photographs that are, intentionally, ever-so-slightly out of focus. This beautifully assembled show, including more than 60 works created over the course of half a century, is a bracing reminder of the many ways artistic talent blossoms and flourishes.

It's that time of year again. The summertime lull has set in, and you find yourself snoozing at odd hours. The world seems covered in gossamer. Drinking heavily rates as your second-most-taxing physical activity, after trimming your toenails. We are going to stop that.

NOW!

We're gonna replace the doldrums with an explosion of fine food, fantastic drinks, and stupendous activity.

Read through the 314 short items that follow and you'll find our staff recommendations for the Best Escape from the Apocalypse (a JFK-inspired bunker on Palm Beach County's Peanut Island), the Best Place to Meet the Girl Next Door Ñ Naked (Jiggles Cabaret), and, of course, the Best Boobs (we're not telling you where this one is; we have to leave something to the imagination). Speaking of flights of fancy, check out the description of a band called Stickshift Lover.

You'll also discover what the public thinks. A record number of you voted this year in our Best of Broward-Palm Beach poll. Of course, you came up with McDonald's as the best French fries, Galleria as the best mall, and Voodoo Lounge as the best dance club. But your imagination stretches further. Your response to the best category we didn't ask: Best Swingers Club. Who says South Florida isn't obsessed with sex?

Finally, you'll find our choices for the shakers and movers of the community: a South Beach chef come north, a tough-as-nails police chief who's also a single mom, and a skateboard maven whose move made the Oxford English Dictionary. So shake it, baby. You'll have to move to keep up with these folks.