With a flap of pink-flamingo wings,

whoosh of speedboats in the bay

the rear-swinging amble of

burnished girls in bikinis

“Miami Vice” launched itself

week after week

as a thoroughly ****** delight.

The show:

a pop-culture event

the media poetry

of the ******* era.

Two cocky

not very talented

male beauties who

spoke in innuendos

and dressed in pink T-shirts

Armani and sockless loafers.

The best episodes

were shot and

cut like movies and

glowed with neon and

pastels and

party lights in stucco mansions.

The varieties of pleasure under

an endless American sun.

(From the New Yorker article entitled, “Hot and Bothered.”)