Phillipe & Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: Buckle Up for a Rant: Your superior correspondents have had quite enough

Beyond Belief

Warning: This going to be a rant, so find a “safe space” to read it, and buckle your seat belt.

When is someone going to shoot off the flare that alerts everyone to the fact that our President, Donald Pussy-grab, is certifiably delusional, erratic and basically barking mad on a day-to-day basis?

This isn’t just Trump-bashing, it is simply observing his behavior. Phillipe and Jorge aren’t sure about you, but if any of our friends said they were a “very stable genius” and boasted of their “great and unmatched wisdom,” we would be edging toward the door and taking them off our future party invite list. This almost puts the egos and posturing of Benito Mussolini and our old pal Adolf to shame, never mind the modern autocratic, mass-murdering dictators of this age — take a bow, shirtless Vlad Putin, frothingly insane Kim Jong UnDeuxTrois (he of the 18 holes in one he had while playing golf for the first time), Salman Dismemberment whatever-the-hell-his-name is trillionaire son of the desert, and countless South American major domos who the Orange Orangutan holds in high esteem. Boy, they just don’t make them like Idi Amin anymore, do they?

P&J’s temperate, considered solution to the fact that we have a reckless, unbridled commander-in-chief who is making America look like the most ignorant shower of assholes in the world would be to either horsewhip him to within an inch of his life outside Trump Tower in New York City or simply string him up, the latter of which is the only language he understands, which includes English.

We, as a country, deserve much, much better than this. A delusional head of state who, because it dawned on him he lost the popular vote, has just signed a death warrant for the courageous Kurds who had our back against Isis and the scumbag Syrian leader Bashar al-Assad who is wheeling and dealing with China, the Ukraine and Russia.

We’ve said this before and we’ll say it again: For all the talk of Trump’s “base” support, if he went into a bar for a beer and started talking loudly about stiffing his contractors, grabbing pussies and being a genius unmatched in wisdom, he would at best clear the stools and at worst get his ass handed to him.

And the blatant nepotism and appointing people to jobs for which they would never get invited to interview for is equally appalling. Daughter Ivanka, whose tits Daddy has all but admitted wanting to fondle, is a fashion designer whose cheap, Chinese-labor made crapola wouldn’t make the shelves at a dollar store. Her hubby, Jared Kushner, the deer-in-the-headlights, know-nothing little schmuck, is an idiot whose father bought his way into Harvard and couldn’t be further over his head if he were at the bottom of the Mariana Trench, and the breathtakingly arrogant and preening sons Donald Jr. and Eric, who can’t find their asses with both hands. Oh, and let’s not forget Melania, the Eastern European mail- order who is essentially a Mortimer Snerd for her ventriloquist husband.

Add Attorney General Bill “Phat Phuc” Barr to the list along with Nosferatu look-alike Rudy Giuliani, and you have the official American nightmare. And that loud roaring sound you hear as you drift off to sleep is that of our Founding Fathers spinning like industrial lathes in their graves.

Passages

At Casa Diablo a couple of weeks back, your superior correspondents made a point of wearing black armbands when we heard that Rip (now R.I.P.) Taylor had passed away.

Rip was a P&J favorite and also very close to the mother of Casa Diablo regular Max Alexander. Back in the late 1970s, when Max was bartending at the legendary Leo’s bar and restaurant on Chestnut Street and living at the Casual Research Institute with Jorge (Rudy Cheeks), John Rector, owner of Leo’s tried to inveigle Rip to do a one-man show at Leo’s. Max is the author of Man Bites Log (2004) and Bright Lights, No City (2012), both of which we highly recommend.

Philippe & Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: Towering Turd: And in its shadow lies La Prov

The Awful Tower

Despite the protests of Phillipe and Jorge, the atrocious design of the Hope Point Tower has been approved by the I-95 Redevelopment Commission. This monstrosity that will be sited downtown next to the Providence River, on land that was supposed to preserved as a park, has been described by the developers as La Prov’s Eiffel Tower. More like Awful Tower as far as P&J are concerned.

The Awful Tower is designed to be more than 40 stories tall, which will dwarf the Capital City’s skyline. It will contain retail stores and a six-story parking garage at its base, and 40 stories of luxury housing and condominiums above. It is projected to have tenants run, not walk, to buy their fancy digs in the sky, but P&J are not optimistic. Do Davol Square and the Superman building ring any bells?

This Jetson-like structure is a potential white elephant, and while we do not see the Awful Tower as being a centerpiece attraction, as opposed to a hideous eyesore, we will keep our fingers crossed for the fate of Our Little Towne.

Stormy Weather

Allow us to share with you our pet peeve of the week: How TV weather people, who probably wish to be called “meteorologists,” but not in this space, tell us what we have to wear each day depending upon their (often incorrect) forecasts.

Now this might seem like a good idea to TV people, but to P&J it is the height of arrogance and maddening pretension. It seems each and every weather update has to include a list of what you or your children at the bus stop should be wearing that day. So if the sun is out on a hot day, we are told to don sunglasses and t-shirts. If it’s cold, please put on your sweatshirt or sweater, is their incredibly prescient advice. Oh, and boots if it’s snowing. You’re welcome.

What makes this a bête noir for P&J is that by giving the public this incredibly astute advice they are assuming their viewers are absolute morons. Although this is the guiding principal of most TV executives. Years ago, Phillipe moderated a panel on TV news at URI for journalism students and the public, one of whose panel members was the news director at WPRI-Channel 12. At one point, in response to a question, he bluntly replied, “We think our viewers are dumb as shit.” This made the crowd gasp, although P. impolitely and immediately burst out laughing — because he knew it was the unvarnished truth. That philosophy still holds true.

So P&J would pull TV viewers’ coats with this incisive bit of information: When you get up in the morning, look outside your window. And if you can’t figure out what might be the smart things to be wearing that day when you venture out, you need more serious help than a TV weatherbot.

P&J on Cable Public Access

Well, Jorge, anyway. Jorge was recently taped for an appearance on the “Tommy Rocket Show” for Vo Dilun’s public access TV channel. The interview was conducted by co-hosts Tommy Rocket and Peter Phipps (the former Providence Journal reporter). Among the topics discussed are the Cool, Cool World column. The show runs on various days and times and is subsequently uploaded to YouTube. For those who are curious but know little about the history of P&J, you’ll find this show interesting.

Latest Trends Among Borderline Lunatics

Your superior correspondents were watching an NBC television newscast where there was a report about new white supremacist trends. Apparently, putting your thumb and forefinger in a circle (a signal that formerly meant “okay”) is now a sign of white supremacist solidarity and an old-fashioned bowl hairdo is a new white supremacist look.

While these alleged trends are pretty nuts, that they might replace older white supremacist behaviors like blowing on one’s forearm to make a flatulence sound or flapping your arms wildly by your sides as a modified dance move, may be a blessing of sorts.

Phillipe & Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: He’s Fast, We’re Furious: How do you solve a problem like The Donald?

We Give Up

Due to the gap between when Phillipe and Jorge have to file our copy and when it comes out on the newsstands, we have almost given up on writing about our pathologically lying, infantile, racist president, Orange Orangutan. Anything projectile-vomited forward on a Friday by The Donald is bound to be overwhelmed by something equally offensive or idiotic by the following Wednesday, when this column becomes fish wrapper.

But one thing that should be hanging over America’s #1 groper’s head is that the current administration is like a kindergarten class. Now that the absurd John Bolton has been pushed out of the helicopter, the lead positions in Trump’s stage show are now either total incompetents, or “acting” heads of important department heads or adviser groups. The “acting” moniker is important to note because it means that person does not have to be confirmed by the US Senate, most of who won’t pass muster, and Trump knows it.

We are also now short Donnie’s national security adviser, a defense secretary who might be able to find his ass with both hands, or a true director of national intelligence. (P&J ask forgiveness for the oxymoron of Trump actually having national intelligence.) Instead, all the riffraff left is ass-kissing Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, who is so far up The Donald’s posterior all you can see are the soles of his shoes.

We are sure that by the time you read this, our philandering president will have appointed someone totally unqualified to our international “intelligence” squad, but worry not, lads and lassies. We have our true “First Lady” Ivanka and her deer-in-the-headlights hubby Jared Kushner totally on top of our foreign policy-making. Dwell on that for a moment, and then have someone lock up your guns and hide the razor blades.

Popular Shortcuts to Notoriety

As we all know, in 2019, there is nothing more important than being famous. Since it doesn’t matter what one is famous for; the easiest path is through something we like to call “reprehensible behavior.” Perhaps that is because doing things that take talent and knowledge require a commitment of time spent gaining that talent and knowledge.

In recent months, your superior correspondents have noticed an uptick in people stealing money or failing to perform one’s job if that person works in government service. And there’s also the old standby — criminal sexual behavior. Congratulations to all who have gained the fame they so desperately desire. See you in court.

Phillipe & Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: Three for the Price of One: Big changes in little Rhody

Hail and Farewell

Phillipe and Jorge are not yet about to bury our old pal Bill Reynolds, The Urinal’s reigning top sports columnist and author of many books, but are sad to see that he will now only be doing his Saturday “For What It’s Worth” pieces. For any fan of the Sweaty Sciences, these are first thing you turn to in the Saturday paper. But hey, still not bad for an old man.

Fellow Chip Hilton enthusiast Reynolds, who starred in basketball at both Barrington High and Brown, fought his way to the top on Fountain Street. We remember busting his balls in this space decades ago when he was assigned to write The Urinal’s annual and traditional “Summertime in Newport” piece, which was always given to one of the paper’s rookies, and essentially could be copied in every year with a few minor changes from the previous year’s.

Bill eventually ended up climbing the ladder at The Urinal, and by choice ended up in what is often referred to as the “toy department” – ie, sports. But what set him apart from and above the usual reporting − and made his books on everything from Rick Pitino to the Hope High basketball team extremely readable − is his ability to dig down and show the humanity and emotions that drive people, whether you knew a fastball from a field goal. He also knew how being involved in sports could help people grow, by learning how to cope with adversity, inherently fight racism and evolve further than they often thought they could.

While a sports junkie, he is also an inveterate reader and moviegoer, and “For What It’s Worth” usually includes a couple of critiques of books and the current cinema, and P&J have taken his advice more than once on what’s worth reading or watching. As a tip of the cap to his basketball prowess, he is known as “Shooter.” This was no hometown moniker, as when P was once interviewing nationally acclaimed writer of sports-themed books, John Feinstein, he dropped Bill’s name, and Feinstein immediately said, “Oh, Shooter!”

To ensure that Reynolds does not go gently into that good night, we will arrange for a Connecticut driver to pick him up and take him to a PG-rated superheroes movie, then perch him atop the State House with his old buddy, the Independent Man. (All inside jokes here folks, sorry, but his readers will get it.) Keep hitting those outside jumpers, pal.

And now, as Reynolds would say, three items for the price of one:

Michael Van Leesten. Little Rhody lost a true treasure with the passing recently of Michael Van Leesten, often described as a “drum major for justice.”

P&J wouldn’t claim to be running buddies with Michael, but knew him to chat with, and greatly admired and respected him, and were in awe of his achievements in advancing civil rights, both here and across the country. He was very classy, very smart, very involved in helping all people and especially very brave. He was a star basketball player at Hope High and Rhode Island College, but his benefits to the state’s minority communities over time far outweighed anything he could do on the court. You will be missed.

There is a grassroots movement that, to P&J’s knowledge, started with an item in GoLocalProv, by Kate Nagle, to name the new Providence River pedestrian bridge after Van Leesten. Needless to say, your superior correspondents think the “Van Leesten Bridge” is a great idea.

Mel Ash. We also wish to note the passing of Mel Ash, who was living in the San Francisco Bay area. Mel was a graphics department stalwart at the New Paper when P&J were there in the 1980s. He was also the author of The Zen of Recovery (1993). He had many friends in Vo Dilun and was greatly loved.

David Koch. Finally, on the national stage, greedy, right-wing scumbag David Koch finally popped his clogs. P&J will shed no tears over this loss; the only fluids we will exude will be to piss on his grave.

Koch, and his equally heinous brother Charles, were famous behind-the-scenes manipulators — billionaires whose sole reason for existence seemed to be to make money from their fossil fuel empire. Throwing their money at whomever could help them achieve their goal led to a political machine that bought candidates, elections and even political parties at the highest levels. (Take a bow, GOP.) This led to constant scurrilous acts of promoting deregulation, and fierce rejections of and attempts to scuttle efforts to address climate change. Keep an eye on anything that comes from Americans for Prosperity, perhaps the most influential cover group backed by the Koch Brothers.

The adage is you shouldn’t say anything bad about the dead, so P&J will simply say, “Rot in hell, Dave.”

Send Them Back!

As renowned arch-conservatives, Phillipe and Jorge stand firmly behind our beloved President Donald’s Trump calls for “The Squad” of four congresswomen and every Mexican rapist, drug dealer, loving parent and people from countries he can’t find on a map − but doesn’t need to − who also speak Mexican to be sent back to wherever they came from, exemplified the admirable heart and soul of current American diplomacy.

But why stop there, ask P&J? How about all the Jews, Italians and Irish who we have been letting into the country for decades? And what do we have to show for it? Never mind African Americans, who definitely should be deported to the “shitholes,” as Donny would say.

As far as the Jews go, all they have done is take over the US media, Hollywood and Wall Street, just to screw real, hard-working Americans like us. (Fact: P is a Son of the American Revolution and J a “jickey,” a UK immigrant.) And they take all the money they make here and send it back to Israel to support right-wing, Zionist apartheid enthusiast and Trump’s poodle, wannabe fuhrer Bibi Netanyahu. Send ‘em back!

And as far as the Italians go, their only achievement we can think of is bringing organized crime to our shores. Oh, forgot, they also introduced pizzerias, most of which are now run by Greeks, who also provide us with big, fat weddings. They should probably be put on the same boat and shipped back to the stunted societies with no history they came from. Send ‘em back!

Finally, there are the Irish. We must admit that their presence is a blessing for police forces and fire departments with their willingness to risk their lives for $50,000 a year. They have contributed much to America with their legacy of drinking, alcoholism, more drinking and pedophile priests. Maybe they wouldn’t have come over here in such masses if they learned how to effectively harvest potatoes, or adopted Jonathan Swift’s A Modest Proposal\ by staving off hunger by fattening their babies and then eating them. But they do provide the butt of many good jokes, eg, “What’s the most useless thing on a woman’s body? An Irishman.” Or, “What’s a mile long with an IQ of 50? The St. Patrick’s Day parade.” Send ‘em back!

Yep, it is time to take further steps on whom we cashier from our United States. Hey, speak English, pal. Way to go, Donny, you’re on the right track. Just take some cues from your heroes Vlad Putin, Xi Jinping, Kim Jong-Undeuxtrois, and other dictators, and keep the pressure on. You are definitely making progress in showing how much, pride, dignity and sanity American has now.

Memorial Concert for Vin Earnshaw

On Sunday, September 8 at The Met on Main Street in Pawtucket, there will be a free concert in memory of Vinnie Earnshaw, a well-known veteran RI musician who passed away. Doors open at 2pm and the music starts at 3. Greg Allen’s Fringe Religion, the Heidi Nirk Band, and Neal and the Vipers are all scheduled to play, as well as an all-star jam led by Bob Angell.

Philippe & Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: Don’t Bet on it, Gigi!: They can’t help the scheming — it’s cultural

Keeping Tradition Alive

Kudos to Governor Gig Raimondo for keeping the grand tradition of sleaze in Little Rhody politics alive and well.

Gigi’s attempted 20-year, $1 billion casino deal with IGT is a tribute to the worst aspects of local political scheming. It features all the hallmarks of the corruption that is The Biggest Little’s continuing legacy: hidden backroom deals, last-minute backdoor legislation and kowtowing to a big corporation that just happens to be a huge donor to one of Gigi’s favorite causes. And the cherry on top? It all revolves around a no-bid contract of a preposterous amount of funding and two-decade length. Hats off, governor, the outright audacity of trying to push this through on the next-to-last day of the legislative session, keeping most legislators and certainly the public and most possible competitors totally in the dark until then, requires total brass balls.

Fortunately, legislative leaders were having none of it, nor were the locked-out potential bidders for our casino gambling services. While quickly and publicly slapping Gigi down, the politicos on Smith Hill served the public well. And since the deal was exposed to sunlight, other betting entities cannonballed into the pool with an enormous splash. This has proved a windfall for The Urinal, as both the main dogs in the new fight, IGT and Twin River, are having a war using full-page ads, nicely boosting revenue on Fountain Street.

This IGT deal Gigi tried to strong-arm into acceptance with little or no review, never mind public input, is both shameful and outrageous. It certainly does not serve Vo Dilunders well, but P&J are sure that Gigi had her future political prospects at the forefront of her thinking, not the common weal. Nice try, honey, but you got caught and exposed in the full glare of the spotlights. Awful Tower, Cont’d.

How many red flags have to go up around the $250-million Hope Point Tower proposed for I-195 redevelopment land before someone in government decides this idea for a Jetsons-style monstrosity might not become, as the developers have claimed, the “Eiffel Tower” of Little Rhody? More like “Awful Tower,” and the folks who have hoodwinked the locals into approving it are raising questions and lowering estimations of their competency every day.

The developer, Jason Fane, and his organization have repeatedly missed deadlines and failed to produce documents the I-195 Redevelopment District Commission has requested. But the I-195 Commission continues to bend over and give Fane extensions to the various missed deadlines. Might someone realize that if your planning work is shoddy, the actual construction may be just as flawed? Hey, we got this really good deal on cheap cement! Let’s use it on this 46-story building. What could go wrong?

Jason Fane is described as a “New York developer.” Let’s see who else fits into this category. Uh, Donald Trump and his father, who in the past got caught silently banning blacks from renting their properties and setting new records for bankruptcy declarations. And add little Donnie Jr, a vile, greasy little bastard, to the family developers tree. Oh, and there is boy genius Jared Kushner, Trump’s son-in- law and “advisor” to the president, whose father is a convicted criminal for various misdeeds, and who himself has used questionable tactics in receiving government grants, despite supposedly being a billionaire himself. And in a flagrant display of nepotism that would make a banana republic dictator whinny, he’s also married to Trump’s first lady, Ivanka. (Sorry, Melania, but it’s obvious. Go back to where you came from.)

The I-195 Redevelopment District Commission should pull the plug on this snake oil-selling city slicker Fane ASAP; if you think that things are going to get smoother down the road, you are dreaming.

Look Behind You!

It is easy for P&J to find fellow travelers in The Biggest Little who despise and loathe our lying, philandering racist President Donald. Yes, we agree that he is already the worst commander-in-chief in US history, which must give immense pleasure and a huge sigh of relief to Dubya Bush, who was the titleholder. But this is just mental political masturbation.

While we all know The Biggest Little will go for whoever runs against the Orange Orangutan in 2020, P&J worry that out there in the flyover states there is someone lurking behind a doorway with a baseball bat in their hands. It is similar to watching a horror movie at the theater; as the hero and heroine walk through a dimly lit and frightening house, the audience begins screaming, “Don’t go in there!” as the deranged ax murderer hides unseen in the darkness. This lack of knowing what is hiding in Midwestern states, and even some along the Atlantic seaboard, makes what we all think here not very powerful or persuasive when it comes to tallying up votes from the public and electoral college.

These waters are muddied further by the fact that polls will become meaningless as the 2020 Armageddon approaches. That is because as we saw in 2016, many people who will vote for Trump are so ashamed they will not admit it — especially to the “fake news,” which includes people doing surveys of voter tendencies.

So if it comforts you to hang with kindred spirits and marvel at how low The Donald can go, keep your eyes peeled and ears open. And when you hear a strange noise coming from the heartland, just don’t put it down to the cat.

Spelling Revolution

Recently. P&J noticed a sign on a storefront at 250 Main Street in downtown Pawtucket heralding the arrival of a new restaurant, Handheld Food Revolution. It noted that the restaurant would be offering “artisean” empanadas and “Brookly” style “Dely” sandwiches.

Your superior correspondents are not sure what this means and are somewhat reluctant to eat at Handheld Food Revolution until we are certain that their food is better than their spelling.

Phillipe & Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: You Talkin’ to Me? Your superior correspondents wonder who the target is

Dumb and Dumber

Phillipe and Jorge have been intrigued by the fight between big media boys CBS and AT&T, which has led to AT&T’s DirectTV dropping CBS programming from its available channels. Since P&J have Cox, we don’t have a dog in this fight, and because we, along with the bulk of the American public, are incredibly self-centered and could care less about DirectTV customers being royally screwed, it is another aspect of this battle that catches our attention.

Since AT&T dropped the hammer and has deleted CBS from airing, we have noticed on Cox as we watch WPRI Channel 12, that the local CBS affiliate has continuously run a news “crawl” at the bottom of the set during its programs asking viewers to call AT&T and demand that CBS programs be reinstated and giving them a number to call to complain. Now stop us if we are wrong, but if DirectTV customers are not getting the CBS feed, it is highly unlikely they even see this message. Oh, right, that does make a bit of sense. Perhaps using this message as the core of an ad campaign should be run on all other stations, especially local news channels, which might be a little more effective than blindly pissing into the wind as WPRI is now doing.

This is not an unprecedented case of “What the hell are you doing? It doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense.” P&J think about the same type of TV scrawl message going out during large storms when the power has gone out, telling people to call a certain phone number to report the loss. Well, uh, perhaps the message would have a bit more impact if it could actually reach customers out there sitting in the dark listening to their battery-charged radios.

Two of the most humorous examples of this dumb and dumber tactic P&J recall involved the exciting news announcement by a bank that it now had Braille on its touchpads at their drive-through windows. OK, did the coin drop for you yet? P&J would imagine there are very few blind people driving cars that could take advantage of such an exciting new service.

The second example, cited in this space decades ago, was when the then-leading radio news station WEAN-AM started touting its latest technological breakthrough, because the station was using Doppler color weather maps for their forecasts. Well, that addition of color maps was certainly a boon to their radio listeners.

Think just a wee bit before you act, media barons, please. Unless you are trying to give us a laugh, for which we thank you mightily.

Send in the Clown

Since the United States is seen having a “special relationship” with Great Britain, although we wouldn’t call Prince Harry marrying Meghan Markle part of that deal, it’s hats off to the Brits for sinking to our level when it comes to electing a certifiably insane person to lead.

Phillipe and Jorge are referring to the newly chosen prime minister of Old Blighty, Boris Johnson. Known as BoJo, or more aptly, Bozo, he is a philandering, racist, perpetually lying political whore with a preposterous blond coif given to brainless showoff antics that give him all the veritas of a feather. Fortunately, not all Britons feel obligated to slit their wrists at how their new head honcho will bring the nation into disrepute and turn it into an international joke, as Americans have with President Pussy- Grabber, the rapist/racist who couldn’t tell the truth about water being wet and has made us the laughingstock of the world — a Marat/Sade sideshow of incompetence.

Needless to say, BoJo and Dodo are best of mates, even though you know that both of them are on high alert at being thrown under a bus or stabbed in the back by the other at the slightest provocation. Like our own liar-in-chief, Bozo will say anything that pops into his head at any moment, truth having no part in that play. Johnson led the English campaign to exit the European Union, Brexit, with more falsehoods about the impact on the countries in the UK than could fit on the side of a bus … which he conveniently used to help persuade voters that exiting the EU would be the best thing in the world for his countrymen and women, until the proverbial hit the fan when the UK was forced to come up with a plan that doesn’t bankrupt the entire British public and economy. And don’t hold your breath waiting for a solution from Bozo, unless it involves throwing dishes at his mistress in late night disputes, which he has mastered, as recent police reports attest.

Seeing these two idiots schmoozing each other in public while Johnson’s first-grader’s hairdo and The Donald’s rug-worthy coif are blowing in the wind and exposing enough hair plugs to make Joe Biden whinny will frighten countries from Argentina to Indonesia.

To cite the old joke, “Why did the sun never set on the British Empire? Because God didn’t trust Queen Victoria in the dark.” Substitute “Boris” for “Queen Victoria” and you get the drift. It would be funny, if it weren’t.

Criswell Didn’t See Facebook Coming

As always, P&J continue to read a variety of publications and, while we will look at what is posted online, we prefer having a hard copy of the more reliable news publications. What we have noticed in the past few years is the incredible amount of misinformation posted on social media. Twitter (which we rarely look at) and Facebook seem to be full of fighting, hatred and nostalgia for past times (we will not use the hackneyed phrase, “back in the day.”

From what we can tell, there appear to be an awful lot of people spending far too much of their time on social media. Good luck to all of us in the future because in the immortal words of Criswell in the final scene of Plan 9 from Outer Space, that is where we will spend the rest of our lives.

Mad About You

If Phillipe and Jorge need to point the finger at anyone for having us turn out to be professional wiseasses, it would be at Mad magazine for their influence on our Wonder Years.

Mad recently pulled the plug on its publication, but it has been a non-entity on the satirical scene for ages. Sort of like “Saturday Night Live” on NBC, which other than its political takes on Trump and Co., died an unannounced public death years ago as it tried to carry on the Belushi/Aykroyd/Curtin/Radner legacy of actually being funny, which was undermined (still) by overlong skits that are decidedly unimaginative and far from humorous. The graceful thing to do, Mr. Lorne Michaels, would be to pull the plug on this turkey ASAP, as it has become an unwatchable embarrassment. All it does now is constantly beg the question of who in hell thought the segments being beaten like dead horses as viewers cringed should see airtime.

Mad made its bones by being the magazine that the parents of Baby Boomers thought was the equivalent of pornography. In fact, it was a riot, full of absurdist humor written (and drawn) by folks who could care less about whether you understood their references or political leanings, and appeared to be mainly to amuse their colleagues, the Great Unwashed be damned. The sketches and cartoons tried the imaginations and knowledge of P&J’s generation, as these were adult products that demanded your attention to the underlying “fuck authority and don’t believe what your parents tell you.” P&J distinctly recall at one point in our ‘ute of having to find the definition of “planned obsolescence,” used by “the usual gang of idiots,” as Mad writers described themselves, in a hilarious, but telling bit about the Detroit motor industry.

Alfred E. Neuman and his famed doofus smile and “What, me worry?” motto was the face of Mad, but only the tip of the iceberg that changed many Boomers’ outlook on the world in a wonderful direction.

P.S. – As the past is celebrated as Mad pops its media clogs, the separately written and published Mad books from the late ‘50s and early ‘60s, featuring takeoffs on The Shadow and Wonder Woman, among many others, remain pure genius. If you see one at a yard sale, snap it up.

Phillipe and Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: Take Three Shots, Gigi!: The gov screwed up again Gigi’s Catering Service

It seems every time Governor Gigi Raimondo is involved in an enormous deal by the state that involves big corporations, she, to put it politely, soils the bed. That is because, as Phillipe and Jorge have said countless times in this space, she always thinks she is the smartest person in the room (you’re not, honey), and caters to Big Money (just not ours).

Let us just detail her massive errors: the “Cooler and Warmer” top-to-bottom shambolic clown show; the UHIP debacle that negatively affected the lives of thousands of Vo Dilunders because Gigi wanted it rolled out before it was ready (which The Feds clearly pointed out beforehand); and throwing money to big financial boys Deloitte for the faulty DMV computer system, extending their contract of incompetence when, in fact, they were responsible for the original cock-up.

Now our Gigi has stepped in a hip-high pile of manure by proposing to give International Game Technology (IGT) a 20-year, $1 billion no-bid contract with the R.I. Lottery that is a wet dream for IGT. You can bet with those stakes, Gigi’s emissaries to the legislature, whose approval it needs, will be as busy on Smith Street and off (with the legislature out of session for the summer) as IGT’s hired guns. (And, may we add, Twin River lobbyists, as Twin River vehemently opposes the contract, taking out a full-page ad in The Urinal on July 7 to urge state senators and reps to veto Gigi’s new scam.)

The dollar amounts we are talking about make P&J’s heads spin, as it is a glaring example of bad governance and trying to sidestep public scrutiny while catering to a thriving member of the Big Biz tribe, whose hooks already are sunk deep into the Biggest Little flesh. But Gigi loves those high-stakes players.

The most appalling part is the “no bid” aspect. Having worked for state agencies in the past, P&J know that even with the cheapest of state contracts — say $10K for 100 glossy printed publications — you have to send out a “request for proposals” (RFP) to any number of competent businesses in that field, and then, usually but not always due to technicalities or inexperienced firms getting involved, you award the contract to the lowest bidder in order to be as diligent as possible with state (read: taxpayers’) monies.

Now the governor is trying to shove this contract, negotiated in secret with IGT, down Little Rhody’s throat. One billion bucks? Twenty years? No-bid? You have to be shitting us (and the public).

So we don’t put our readers into a coma with details, think of it this way: IGT is the international big brother who supplies the hardware for gambling; TR is the local little brother who also gets a piece of the pie via their two casinos (Lincoln and Tiverton). Raimondo and that no-bid contract is being handed to IGT on a gold plate, sort of like giving big brother his own car and access to the family bank account, while little brother is working for a living. And now IGT is accusing TR of trying to muscle its way into their profits, which is likely true. IGT striking a secret deal with Gigi is blatantly true, because as a former capital investor, she loves Wall Street and any Big Biz members. This despite the fact that all capital investment bankers and hedge fund managers should be horsewhipped to within an inch of their lives on the steps of the New York Stock Exchange.

That said, Twin Rivr has flipped IGT and Gigi the bird and come in with counter offers, despite Raimondo wanting this IGT deal to breeze through. Most of it comes down to up-front money and number of people who would be employed. And if she actually put out an RFP, at least one big-time out- of-state gambling firm, as well as Twin River, has indicated would be more than interested in going for it.

This is going to be fun to watch as Gigi goes to the legislature, and IGT and Twin River end up with both professional and personal insults in the media becoming the order of the day. P&J can’t wait. Stay tuned.

Planet Stupider Drive-in

Just when you think that you have been Vo Dilun-ized to the point that you barely lift an eyebrow when something bizarre or impossible to explain (except for it occurring in our state) occurs here in Little Rhody, our fellow citizens find a way to get our attention.

This latest item from the Planet Stupider case file comes from the Fourth of July fireworks celebration in Providence, when hundreds of motorists on Routes 195 and 95 decided it would be a good idea to pull over and watch the capital’s pyrotechnics from these major highways. No doubt they had some of the best seats in the house, even if it was sitting on the roof of a parked car in many instances. And astoundingly, some cars were actually parked in the 55 mph travel lanes.

These idiots — and our apologies to standard-issue idiots everywhere, because these folks have you beaten by a mile — are the type who celebrate the 4th with fireworks in their backyards, and see how long they can hold onto an M-80 before throwing it. The odd missing fingers(s) are a dead giveaway.

There aren’t words enough to explain how these people set up a potentially life-threatening scenario and trapped innocent victims of their self-centered egos to go ooh and aah for 30 minutes. Instead of merely issuing tickets, the staties should have banged all of the offenders into the ACI so they can see what kind of fireworks go on in there.

Girls Talk

Ten years ago, P&J would say they wouldn’t watch a women’s soccer match if you paid us. This last women’s World Cup, P&J watched all the US team matches and others of importance, and they were exciting. As you know by now, the women won the World Cup, and with it, the bully pulpit they need in pursuit of gender equality and equal pay. Go get ‘em, say P&J.

Besides the ticker tape parade in New York and appearances on talk shows by women’s soccer queen Megan Rapinoe and equally outspoken face of the team Alex Morgan, what is helping them in their demands is the fact that the overpaid men’s national team sucks, and is boring while they try to figure out if the ball moves because there’s a frog inside it or for some other reaso. World Cup won by women versus the men barely beating Curacao, a country smaller and with less than populace of Philadelphia, 1-0.

Dealing with the US Soccer Federation and the world governing body, FIFA, both of which are stocked to the gills with incompetent, lying, greedy bastards, Megan, Alex and company have a long row to hoe. But they now have the public on their side in a big way, and if you don’t think there are many politicians looking to ride that wave and become their champions, just wait.

Congrats on an impressive display on the field, and the ability and guts to speak truth to power, ladies. Criswell Didn’t See Facebook Coming

As always, P&J continue to read a variety of publications and, while we will look at what is posted online, we prefer having a hard copy of the more reliable news publications. What we have noticed in the past few years is the incredible amount of misinformation posted on social media. Twitter (which we rarely look at) and Facebook seem to be full of fighting, hatred and nostalgia for past times (we will not use the hackneyed phrase, “back in the day.”

From what we can tell, there appear to be an awful lot of people spending far too much of their time on social media. Good luck to all of us in the future because in the immortal words of Criswell in the final scene of Plan 9 from Outer Space, that is where we will spend the rest of our lives.

Philippe & Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: Good Night, Sweet Prince: Your superior correspondents bid a fond farewell to a state treasure

See Ya, Pal

Phillipe and Jorge lost a good friend when legendary reporter Jim Taricani passed away.

It would now be totally redundant to praise his dedication to great journalism and his courage to take one for the journalistic team in refusing to reveal a source, which earned him four months of home confinement. (He was sentenced to six months, but had it reduced for good behavior.) If you think that’s easy, try not leaving your own home for just a week.

But professional kudos notwithstanding, our recollection of Jim will be that every time we met him, he had a smile on his face, a laugh about two seconds away. He also had a great sense of humor amid his bouts with the mob and Buddy “Vincent A.” Cianci and his tribe. We shared a beer or twain with Jim over the years, and he always regaled us with hilarious behind-the-scenes stories that would never see airtime in his reporting. And when he lost his foot and part of his left leg in 2012 to the various ailments that plagued him over the years, we sent him our sympathies and a typical “Buck up, Bruce” message. To this, he responded that the upside of the procedure was that he could now get double the mileage out of a pair of socks.

We also recall a memorable “Send in the Clowns” dinner (what the late secretary of state Susan Farmer used to call evenings where your superior correspondents were guests) at Mac & Muffy Farmer’s home a number of years back with the Taricanis (Jim and Laurie) also present. Very funny and entertaining as we all swapped stories. Yes, we lost perhaps the best newsman this state has ever produced. But more important, we lost a true gentleman with a spine and honesty like no other, who despite having to look into the abyss and acting on what he saw without fear or ever backing down, we had the departure of a great, optimistic and wonderful man who could always see the lighter side of the darkness.

(A shout out here to Tim White of Channel 12, who has grown into the best investigative reporter in the state. In a taped statement on WPRI after Jim’s death, he said when he rose to the position of investigative reporter at his station, the first person he called was Taricani to get his advice on how to do the job right. A fitting tribute to Taricani’s long-lasting impact, and Jim’s legacy will be how so very many reporters he has influenced.)

Think Tank

To adapt a quote from the cerebral and subtly hilarious singer/songwriter Courtney Barnett, sometimes Phillipe and Jorge sit and think, and sometimes we just sit. During these moments of deep reflection on heavy topics like the women’s soccer World Cup or what restaurant we will go to that evening, here are a few things of questionable value to our beloved readers worth pondering.

Outrun the Gun – If you were to be put in a room that you could not leave — forever — along with Adam Sandler, Will Ferrell and Conan O’Brien, and given a gun with two bullets in it, whom would you shoot? Note: If you didn’t use the second shot on yourself, we suggest seeking serious professional help because your brain is broken. Or you are an irretrievable masochist.

Don’t Say That – P&J are very high-strung individuals, quite easily annoyed. So it is with certain words that people seem addicted to using in ultimately futile attempts to make themselves sound either intelligent or on the cultural qui vive.

Here are three that make us either incandescent with rage, cringe or simply want to say, “Please, shut the fuck up.”

The first is “empower.” People actually have the audacity to say they have “empowered” someone or some group. Bullshit. People are already empowered; they just have to use it. We remember Channel 10’s reporters in 2016 saying they were “empowering” viewers by merely presenting the day’s political news. What arrogance and pretension.

Former Polish Solidarnosc leader and eventual president of Poland once said, “Rights are not things that are given. Rights are things that can’t be taken away.” Same goes for power. Use it or lose it, chumps.

The second is “journey.” Everyone now is on a journey through life. Well, unless you’re Odysseus or Don Quixote or plan on spending 40 days in the wilderness, all any of us are doing is just living a life: often mundane and boring, deeply absurd at most times and just plain unfair. So cut the ostentatious “journey” crap and keep moving.

Lastly comes “sustainable.” P&J understand what our civil advocates and Millenials are trying to say, but if you take 100 people, good of heart and healthy of mind, and ask them what “sustainable” means, you will get 100 different definitions. Sometimes a common middle ground on what it means can be reached, but usually only after a migraine-inducing argument, and at least one instance of “I’m going to have to kick your ass” being thrown into the intellectual mix. Final nitpicky note: You don’t modify the word “unique.” Nothing is “very unique” or “sort of unique.” Unique is unique. And if we ever catch you using an expression like “he’s had a very unique journey,” we put a black bag over your head and throw you off the Newport Bridge.

Taking Da Bait

If there has ever been a case of false advertising, it has to be what is being billed as the Democratic presidential primary “debates.” More like the “posturing clusterfuck with photo ops and sound bites” that emerges when you put 10 candidates on the same stage for a two-hour period — two times, no less! — in which they come no closer to debating than Donald Trump does to telling the truth.

Instead, we get 20 desperate politicians yelling at the camera about what they would do if elected president. That isn’t “debating,” that’s a made-for-TV ad. How we long for the old “Saturday Night Live” skit with Dan Aykroyd and Jane Curtin going head-to-head, and the iconic “Jane, you ignorant slut” line.

Kamala Harris came the closest by tearing Joe Biden’s throat out with her bare teeth in criticizing his support for segregationist senators when he was also a solon and his opposition to school busing. She pointed out that she had been in the vanguard of students being bused to school as a ‘ute, and benefited from it. This left Biden looking momentarily like a senior citizen who forgot where he was or even how he had arrived there. His excuse was the usual insider political explanation which no one understood, but which predominates these clusterfucks. Say what you mean, and in plain English -- enough with the patronizing use of Spanish — because it not only turns people off, it pisses them off.

Phillipe & Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: In the Navy: Our arches as simply perfect, Mr. Secretary

P&J Still Awaiting Federal Jobs

At right about the same time that Phillipe & Jorge were about to volunteer to Secretary of Navy Richard Spencer as the next heads of the US Naval War College in Newport, a candidate with better credentials (Rear Admiral Shoshanna Chatfield) was named by Secretary Spencer.

In case you haven’t been following the news on this, the reason there was a need for a new leader at the Naval War College was because the previous head ramrod, Rear Admiral Jeffrey Harley, was removed after accusations that he was spending excessive amounts of money as well as engaging in other “inappropriate behavior.” It was the “inappropriate behavior” accusations (of keeping a margarita machine in his office and suggesting that people come by to receive “free hugs” that captured our interest).

Your superior correspondents felt that we would fit right into the Trump Administration’s perception of government since neither of us have any sort of military background. But this leaves us available to run the Treasury Department now, since we don’t know anything about money policy either.

Passages: Beth Claverie

Phillipe & Jorge’s longtime, dear friend Beth Crellin Claverie passed away the first week of June. She was an accomplished painter, a mother and grandmother, and wife of the late Charles “Rocket”Claverie. Much love and condolences to her family and many friends. She is greatly missed.

No Wonder We’re in Big Trouble

P&J noticed in one of those Associated Press Today in History newspaper columns on June 15 that “on this date in 1992,” Vice President Dan Quayle “erroneously instructed” a 6th grader to spell potato as “potatoe.” At the time it was a huge scandal — we were so innocent then.

Phillipe & Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: Just a Gigilo: Before ghosting was popdular, making ghosts had a moment

Goodbye – and Good Riddance

Phillipe and Jorge were sad to see that Newport’s most famous gigolo, Claus von Bulow, popped his clogs the other day at age 96. Not because if there was a God, the alleged murdering s.o.b. should have died long ago, but because he was a source of vast entertainment and column fodder for your superior correspondents in years past.

For the ‘utes of today, P&J at the time pointed out (as did many others) that Claus attached the “von” to his name to give him added cachet on the Eurotrash circuit, leading von Phillipe and von Jorge to give everyone involved in his murder trials with that phony-baloney international high-society door- opener. In a nutshell, “von” Bulow, wed to filthy rich heiress “Sunny,” was accused of murdering her with overdoses of insulin. He was convicted, but in a second sensationalist trial, was acquitted. Right.

At any rate, both trials held Little Rhody in thrall for months at a time, despite the heinous nature of the crime. And doing our part as always, P&J tastefully suggested that the trials’ theme song be Johnny “The African Queen” Mathis’ rendition of “When Sunny Gets Blue.” But of course that would be wrong in so many ways. (Did it anyway. Ha!)

Namedroppers

Local media, especially The Urinal, have a long history of finding any and all possible ties to the Biggest Little by anyone in the news. In some cases, just someone with name recognition driving through Little Rhody en route to the Cape merits mention, as though they were the state’s favorite son or daughter. So with the women’s soccer World Cup beginning in France, Phillipe and Jorge are shocked to find that local newspapers and TV stations have failed to realize the connection to one of the women’s team’s stars, Tobin Heath. The local attachment has not only been ignored, but totally overlooked instead of being glorified, since her parents and uncle reside in Jamestown.

Perhaps this is just the usual dismissal of women’s soccer. But it is also missing the chance to hook the Vo Dilun bandwagon up to one of the team’s top players, and arguably one of the best female players in the world, who touched the athletic Holy Grail by being in the background on the cover of the most recent edition of Sports Illustrated and who is playing on a team favored to win the World Cup. We would assume this would produce old photos from her childhood being flashed about, an interview with the parents watching a match on TV, and having some French stringer do an on-site interview with Tobin about her views on clam cakes and chowder and the Superman building, even if she a) hasn’t a clue, and b) doesn’t understand what the media hack said in French.

Admittedly, Tobin has risen to stardom in absentia from the Biggest Little, but that has never stopped any namedroppers in the past. Phillipe & Jorge are quite upset by this, and recommend that The Urinal’s executive editor Alan Rosenberg immediately resign for this flagrant breach of Little Rhody media tradition. (Just kidding Alan, we love you. And Gatehouse Media will probably take care of jettisoning you in the immediate future, since you actually do have a record of highly competent service, which is the kiss of death in today’s pigpen market. There is one other option, but we’re not sure what the minimum wage in Rhody is these days.)

Fashion Forward

Phillipe & Jorge make it a point to be properly color-coordinated in our wardrobes (and makeup) when we step out of Casa Diablo each day.

So we have to grudgingly give some credit to our President Groper, who seems to be way ahead of the game in anticipating this refined look. Besides the preposterous pouffie yellow hairdo and his Cheeto- colored fake tan, The Donald was obviously thinking ahead to when he is removed from office after the 2020 election, knowing he will most likely be sporting an orange jumpsuit at Leavenworth once his executive privilege and protection vanishes. Goes well with both the coif and the skin colorizing. But P&J prefer that instead of calling it a jumpsuit, it be referred to as a cover-up, which would fit perfectly into the web of lies that is woven around his entire life.

Eat Me

If you’re a fish lover with an adventurous spirit and an eye to future eating habits, may Phillipe & Jorge recommend a splendid new tome that is a cookbook with a huge educational component. It is called Simmering the Sea: Diversifying Cookery to Sustain Our Fisheries. It was produced by a tiny little nonprofit named Eating with the Ecosystem, along with the URI Graduate School of Oceanography, and besides having excellent illustrations by Lea Tirmant-Desoyen and recipes by chef Rizwan Ahmed, gives great explanations — or raises questions — about why Vo Dilunders ignore much of what is caught that we never end up eating. These include everything from periwinkles to dogfish, which prepared properly are a seafood lover’s treat. It doesn’t just have to be lobster, cod, clams and scallops all the time, kids, there is a wealth of other great options being totally ignored. So go get a copy of Simmering the Sea from your favorite book purveyor, it’s more than worth the money.

(In the interest of full disclosure, Phillipe has been active with Eating with the Ecosystem and the book’s authors to draw attention to this very good literary and culinary effort. And displaying his usual acumen in financial affairs, he was paid in fish. But damn good fish and fresh off the local boats, he might add.)

Kudos & Congrats

…to Russ Gusetti, a prominent musician as a member of Pendragon, who also is the executive director of the Blackstone River Theatre. It is for the latter that Russ is being inducted into the Blackstone Valley Tourism Council’s William Blackstone Society at a ceremony to be held in September. Working on a Rumor

Your superior correspondents have been trying to hunt down a hot rumor that the Trump White House has decided to hire a new attorney from right here in the Biggest Little. We are not at liberty to reveal his name, but we can tell you that he earned his law degree from Suffolk Law and did his undergraduate work at what he modestly refers to as My Johnson’s a Whale University. He is well known in professional circles as “The Heavy Bullshitter.” Needless to say, this is par for the course in today’s US of A. RIP

Rest in peace, Leon Redbone, the iconic singer and guitarist who passed away on May 30 at the age of 69. Jorge (Rudy Cheeks) recalls meeting Redbone in New York City one evening in 1978 when he came to see the Young Adults play at a club on 72nd Street. He was a very nice guy.