Miami Vice Memoirs

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I stumbled upon a couple episodes of Miami Vice today. Man, in its day that show was cutting edge. Somehow I never noticed that it was all window-dressing: cars, clothes and boobs. The acting, if you can call it that, was horribly flat. And not a lot of dialog. For the most part they all spend their time brooding.

Tubbs wears a sharp suit and expensive watch as he broods over how much more exciting life was back in New York. Miami is a hick town compared to the Big Apple.
Crockett's alligator Elvis ate his hot pink deck shoes. Crocket turns to alcohol and brooding as he reflects with a sultry Tina Turner song in background. Man, it's gonna be hard to get over the loss of those shoes.
Crockett and Tubbs pause in a stairwell to brood and lament the fact that they've already shot up the marina, shot up the club, shot up the small ethnic neighborhood and drove Crockett's Ferrari around in the middle of the night with the Miami skyline and Phil Collins in the background and still they have thirty minutes and three Colombian drug lords to kill.
Crockett and Tubbs stop to brood and reflect. Tubbs laments the fact that he wouldn't have to wear a pink shirt if this were New York. Crockett shows his a** wrapped in a pair of white cotton Dockers, and wonders why Tubbs gets to wear the pink shirt.
Crockett and Tubbs shot up the marina, the club and the small ethnic neighborhood. On top of that Crocket can never seem to remember to return the Ferrari to the motor pool. Lt Castillo broods as he wonders how he'll discuss all of this with his detectives and explain it to City Hall without exceeding his allotted 15 spoken words per episode.


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