Thanks to our neighbors, who are absolutely the best at doing destructive, disastrous, and just plain stupid things, Floridians have become the butt of the country's jokes. Lady who tried to ride a manatee? Yep, right here. Lifeguard fired for saving a life? Mm-hmm, that was us. The state that kept counting ballots right on through election night, long after even Mitt Romney had conceded? Sigh. Must we always stand out like a bumbling drunk at a silent auction?
Recent news events set the mood for our list of South Florida's top turkeys of 2012: a few scoundrels who are straight-up bad and others who might be evil if they were just a little more relevant. But what the hey — without all this gobbling, our state would be as bare as a Thanksgiving table without a bird. We're fairly certain none of these turkeys will be getting a presidential pardon.
Long before Florida couldn't figure out whom it had voted for, it was already changing the course of this year's election. On a fundraising swing through the state in May, Mitt Romney visited the Boca Raton home of Marc Leder, a private-equity manager, and said what he probably always thinks — that 47 percent of Americans are worthless, incurable mooches. But one of the attendees was secretly videotaping his remarks. Weeks later, Jimmy Carter's grandson, trawling the internet for ammo against Romney in the waning days of the presidential race, found the video and passed it on to Mother Jones writer David Corn. The revelation didn't just shed light on Mitt's unguarded arrogance; it also put Leder in the spotlight. According to the New York Post, when Leder isn't driving fast-casual restaurant investments like the now-bankrupt Friendly's into the ground, he's, um, hosting sex parties. One male guest described a "chubby white meathead" copulating with a "tanned" woman on patio furniture "in front of astonished guests." That might read like a Zagat review of a Larry Flynt venture, but it's just another party hosted by the man who provided the stage for Romney to embarrass himself at dinner. How did Leder recompense Sir Mittington for his suffering? He hosted another fundraiser later, of course — this time on the mole-free isle of Palm Beach.
In early October, Creed frontman and Boca resident Stapp, famous for his vaguely Christian lyrics sung in a faux-Pearl Jam mess of strained sincerity, appeared on Fox News to announce an arms-wide-open endorsement of Mitt Romney. Stapp voted for Obama in 2008, but what a difference four years makes: "I'm just disappointed and had very high expectations," said Stapp. His spurning of Obama wasn't exactly a miracle for the Romney campaign, though: Stapp has had very public problems with drug abuse and drunk driving, was once accused of beating his wife (the charges were later dropped), and upset legions of Marlins fans in 2006 by attempting to write a theme song for the team, "Marlins Will Soar" (the song ruined baseball, Deadspin lamented). Come to think of it, though, Romney should have just used Stapp's old Creed lyrics as his concession speech. Behold: "The peace is dead in my soul/I have blamed the reasons for/My intentions poor/Yes, I'm the one who/The only one who/Would carry on this far."
Everything looked great for the start of the 2012 Miami Marlins season. There was a brand-new $600-million ballpark in Little Havana serving lovely pork sandwiches, a new logo and name, several key trades, and the acquisition of Ozzie Guillen as manager. Expectations were so great that the team had a Showtime reality series lined up to chronicle the Marlins' return to greatness. Yet something was amiss from the moment team owner Jeffrey Loria (a hubristic art dealer who once wrote a book about the philosophy of Charlie Brown) awkwardly puttered across the field on opening day seated in a golf cart next to a severely disabled Muhammad Ali. As cheers faded away to cringes, the cart crawled along the turf and a stupidly grinning Loria looked like he was going to hug the life right out of poor old Ali. This might have been an omen. Eventually, the team was bad enough for the TV show to be a flop, and not even Ozzie saying he loved Fidel Castro could save it from cancellation. But Guillen's unguarded babbling did make him an easy scapegoat for Loria, who canned him at the end of this year's shitty season with three years left on his contract. That was followed by a blockbuster doozy of a move this month: trading away three of the team's remaining stars to Canada, making the last-place Marlins the most penny-pinching team in the league next year, with an estimated opening-day payroll of $34 million (the lowest this year was $53 million). Asked for some kind of explanation of his cheapskate behavior, Loria said to reporters, "Figure it out." What a dick.