Kick Ass: Selected Columns of Carl Hiaasen

The phenomenon is exaggerated in tropical locales such as Florida, where (with the recent decline of tourist homicides), we're always on the lookout for new things to terrorize winter visitors. I'm all in favor of this, but not at the expense of the beleaguered shark.

There was nothing mythic or Hemingwayesque about the capture of the great white near Pickles Reef. Longline fishermen laid out miles of hooks in deep water. The shark glomped one of the baits and became entangled.

No epic battle occurred between man and beast. The fish was already stuck when the fishermen checked their rigs. A mechanical winch cranked up the line.

The whole episode was no more heroic than a tow truck dragging an Oldsmobile out of a rock pit. Incredibly, the shark still was alive after being pulled back to the mainland, where it soon died. The swarms of gawkers were thicker than the flies.

Traffic snarled. Cameras clicked. The media was alerted.

A giant shark is a spectacular thing, without a doubt. A great white is one of those creatures that stirs in humans the most primitive of fears, even though we are statistically far more likely to die from a lightning bolt, a bee sting or a bowl of bad oysters.

Still, nothing livens a sluggish news day like one of those razor-toothed leviathans, hanging by its tail in a marina. (Photographers adroitly avoided showing the regurgitated stomach.)

Around the dead-shark shrine in Key Largo, the standard media question to wide-eyed onlookers was: "Does this make you afraid to go in the water?"

Correct answer: "No, but I'll think twice about slathering myself in squid blood and dangling off a size 9/0 hook overnight in the Gulf Stream."

As breathtaking as the sight of a dead i6-foot shark might be, the live ones are infinitely more awe-inspiring. They do not, however, hold quite so still for pictures.

Even in the "team coverage" it was seldom mentioned that sharks, an essential marine predator, are disappearing from our oceans. They're being slaughtered disgracefully for their fins, which are sold for big money to Asian markets.

The great white killed off of Key Largo was hoisted into the bed of a truck and hacked into pieces. Its dorsal and pectorals will someday season an expensive bowl of soup, consumed by a wealthy businessman hoping to bolster his sexual stamina.

An even less noble end awaits the remainder of the fish. Its jaws were sold to a collector, and a few hunks of flesh went to bystanders. The carcass had been lying around for so long, without ice, that a seafood house in Tavernier didn't want any part it.

Much of the great shark probably will turn up as chum, or as bait in crab traps.

But you won't see that part of the story on the news. Dead meat doesn't rate, without the jaws.

Corruption: Our growth industry May 3, 1998

Miami civic leaders seem shellshocked by the announcement that Knight Ridder, parent company of the Herald, is moving its headquarters to Northern California.

I say: Adios, corporate weasels. Who needs you?

Oh, we really don't want to go—but we need to be in Silicon Valley with all that nifty, cutting-edge Internet technology.

Yeah, right. The truth is, Knight Ridder's gone soft. Thrown in the towel. Turned yellow. It isn't tough enough to handle Miami anymore.

So good riddance, cyberweenies. Enjoy your vineyards and your "majestic" redwoods and your scenic Pacific Coast Highway. We'll be just fine down here in the oppressive heat and the gunfire.

For too long South Florida has done back flips to impress major firms, only to have them desert the place or go bankrupt (sometimes more than once). It's time to focus more positively on a steady, dependable, homegrown enterprise.

I'm talking about corruption. That's the wave of the future. That's where the jobs are.

Example: The U.S. attorney's office in Miami is doubling the size of its anti-corruption unit. The troop increase comes after a wave of scandals involving the County Commission, the Building Department, the Miami City Commission, the Miami elections and the Port of Miami.

Some say epidemic corruption is bad for our image—in fact, it's cited as a reason many companies won't relocate here. And it's true that almost every institution, from the cops to the courts, has been stained by serious scandal in the past decade.

But why not make the best of it? What's bad for a community's image isn't necessarily bad for the job market.

A proper corruption investigation requires a massive law enforcement infrastructure, which means more employment opportunities—and not only for agents, prosecutors and judges.

Think of each breaking scandal as its own job fair.