In the Navy: Our Arches As Simply Perfect, Mr

A First Person Account of the Wyatt Detention Center Protest

Pepper spray is an amazing crowd dispersant – I can attest to that. My wife and I took part in the recent rally in Central Falls to shut down the Wyatt Detention Center, where Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) incarcerates victims of the vile and racist Monstrosity in Chief’s immigration plan.

The Wyatt Detention Center is a for-profit prison in Central Falls, a working class RI city just north of Providence with a large Latino community. Off main street is a lovely soccer field and playground. Directly across is the detention center, a brutal high rise cement block. It is surrounded by layers upon layers of gleaming razor wire. A large sign on the gate announces prison guard job openings.

That night, I stared up at multiple floors of small fogged-up slotted windows and saw people inside. Each window seemed to have at least three inmates. They began to make messages in block script scribbled onto what looked like a paper towel, waving or flashing lights to attract our attention. The signs were hard for me to read, but someone with better eyesight told me what they said: “Help” and “No food.”

The Wyatt Detention Center has been in business for a while. Not every prisoner there is an incarcerated immigrant. But recently the facility contracted with ICE to house immigrants “rounded up” in raids ordered by the fascist gorgon that soils the White House.

The sheer perversity of a system – capitalism – that can make an industry of imprisonment! How low must low-road capitalism go before reasonable people acknowledge the incipient evil of the practice?

So we gathered in Central Falls to decry this abomination. To shut it down ostensibly, or at least be arrested in the process. Here is what happened:

I was there along with a group of protesters. A black pickup truck suddenly appeared, swerved into a parking lot at high speed and drove directly into a large crowd of people. The truck stopped momentarily, then lurched forward again at high speed into the panicking crowd of people trying to leap out of the way of the truck. I saw a girl get hurt. The truck then stopped and as the crowd scattered to help people who had fallen, someone began the chant, “The whole world is watching… the whole world is watching…” The crowd gathered around the truck yelling at the driver, “Shame…shame…” Suddenly a large cloud of pepper spray was released into the crowd. It went directly into people’s eyes and many required medical attention. People used bottled water to flush the stinging toxic gas from their eyes – passing napkins and whatever else they could find to try to clear the fumes. People were coughing, retching. Anyone with asthma was in instant medical danger from this “non- lethal weapon” – pepper spray is a poison gas. It even affected the correctional officers and ICE agents who appeared and eventually created a barrier across the entrance of the parking lot. The driver and his truck were allowed to pass through.

No effort was made by either the RI State Police or the Central Falls Police to apprehend the driver who had attempted vehicular homicide and reckless endangerment.

In my view, ICE is a government paramilitary complete with detention centers, under the direction of a hate-filled sociopath, that picks people up off the street and puts them away indefinitely, often effectively without legal recourse.

If you’ve ever wondered how normal Germans could have lived day-to-day knowing what was going on in the concentration camps, just look around you now. There is nothing so perverse as the normalization of the abyss. But this is what happens, in small ways very day.

HP Lovecraft: His Racism in Context

HP Lovecraft

There is no question that HP Lovecraft, influential writer of horror fiction and son of Providence, held views that were clearly racist, outdated outliers even by the standards of his time. My goal here is not to excuse his racism, but to place it in a context of Lovecraft as a human being with very real flaws.

I do not believe it is possible to separate the man from his work: Lovecraft the man was afraid of nearly everything unfamiliar, and that discomfort – dread, really – of the “other” is what permeates and distinguishes the world view expressed in his fiction. As does every horror writer, he exaggerated his own irrational fears in his stories: his phobia of seafood manifests, one might conclude, in his siting the lair of Cthulhu in the lost city of R’lyeh sunken under the Pacific Ocean. To what extent Lovecraft’s social and political views influenced his created universe is the subject of the title essay in Lovecraft and a World in Transition, a collection by Lovecraft scholar and biographer ST Joshi. Are Lovecraft’s space aliens and other-worldly creatures proxies or stand-ins for humans of color? Lovecraft Country by Matt Ruff is a 2016 novel that satirically explores that question, following an African-American protagonist who is a fan of Lovecraft in the era of Jim Crow.

Nearly every writer critical of Lovecraft on this ground cites as the prime example of his racism a particular poem supposedly written by him in 1912, but I regard that attribution of authorship as doubtful. (The poem itself is so offensive that I am choosing not to quote it, but you can read it on Wikisource.) The poem exists not in any of Lovecraft’s extensive notes or correspondence, but only in a single extant copy made by hectograph duplication, a now-obsolete process using gelatin to make cheap copies long before the invention of photocopying – the 1912 version of forwarding a stupid joke by e- mail.

Lovecraft was well-read but not formally educated, leading him to be almost totally ignorant of subjects that were outside the range of books he chose to absorb. He never attended college, a matter of significant embarrassment and disappointment to him, and he withdrew from Hope High School without a diploma. The best information, according to the excellent definitive biography by ST Joshi, I am Providence: The Life and Times of HP Lovecraft, is that Lovecraft in 1906 at about age 16 suffered a minor breakdown and in 1908 at about age 18 suffered a major breakdown, making it impossible for him to continue in school. The nature of these breakdowns is unclear, but they seem to have involved “tics” and “seizures” in a way that suggests epilepsy, possibly resulting from a head injury as a child. He reported a sensitivity to light causing him to draw his shades in the daytime, consistent with a traumatic brain injury.

What we do know is that 1908 to 1913 is a “blank period” where little information about Lovecraft’s life as a young adult survives, and he wrote very little. If Lovecraft did compose that notorious 1912 poem, it would have been during this period, and although Joshi accepts the attribution it seems to me open to substantial question. The poem “Providence in 2000 A.D.” was Lovecraft’s first published work, appearing in the Providence Evening Journal of March 4, 1912, a xenophobic satire that envisions streets and landmarks being given ethnic renamings, inspired, according to its introduction, by a proposal from “the Italians” to change “Atwells Avenue” to “Columbus Avenue.”

Regardless, there is a huge volume of material in Lovecraft’s correspondence where he vehemently defends his racist views to his friends, and this is where his idiosyncratic autodidactism rears its ugly head. He was an ardent atheistic materialist, and he put his faith in scientific progress. Nearly everything he read of non-fiction was in hard sciences such as astronomy, chemistry, and biology, and as a result he was heavily – and unduly – influenced by the pseudo-scientific racism of the late 19th Century and early 20th Century, such as eugenics. As Joshi phrased it, “In every other aspect of his thought – metaphysics, ethics, aesthetics, politics – Lovecraft was constantly digesting new information… and readjusting his views accordingly. Only on the issue of race did his thinking remain relatively static. He never realised that his beliefs had been largely shaped by parental and societal influence, early reading, and outmoded late nineteenth-century science… The brute fact is that by 1930 every ‘scientific’ justification for racism had been demolished.”

Often mentioned by his modern critics, Lovecraft’s most embarrassing comment about Adolf Hitler – “I know he’s a clown, but by God, I like the boy!” – is from a letter written in September 1933, just months after Hitler came to power through democratic process, two years before the restrictive Nuremberg Laws that stripped Jews of German citizenship and five years before Kristallnacht that burned down Jewish synagogues and businesses. At the time, it was hardly outside mainstream political thought in the United States for people to regard Hitler somewhat favorably as rescuing Germany from economic and political chaos. It is unfair to fault Lovecraft for not knowing what Hitler would do over the next 12 years.

Even setting aside his immature poetry and his uninformed commentary about current events, there is no shortage of ammunition for those who call Lovecraft a racist, and it is easy to find recitations of quotes drawn from his own later stories and correspondence. (See, for example, “The ‘N’ word through the ages: The madness of HP Lovecraft” by Phenderson Djeli Clark.) It is reasonable but obviously unprovable speculation that, had Lovecraft been able to continue his formal education, he would have been exposed to differing points of view during his formative years and might have recognized that his own views were grounded in personal prejudice rather than discredited science.

By the time his correspondents challenged his views in the 1930s, he had long ago solidified those prejudices. His intellectual honesty was such that he could not deny that the science had turned against him; in January 1931 he wrote to James F. Morton, “No anthropologist of standing insists on the uniformly advanced evolution of the Nordic as compared with that of other Caucasian and Mongolian races. As a matter of fact, it is freely conceded that the Mediterranean race turns out a higher percentage of the aesthetically sensitive and that the Semitic groups excel in sharp, precise intellection…” Lovecraft then made an argument grounded in culture with no pretense of scientific basis: “What, then, is the secret of pro-Nordicism amongst those who hold these views? Simply this – that ours is a Nordic culture, and that the roots of that culture are so inextricably tangled in the national standards, perspectives, traditions, memories, instincts, peculiarities, and physical aspects of the Nordic stream that no other influences are fitted to mingle in our fabric. We don’t despise the French in France or Quebec, but we don’t want them grabbing our territory and creating foreign islands like Woonsocket and Fall River.”

It is a far cry from advocating segregation, as many fringe lunatics continue to do, to argue that distinct cultures should maintain their distinctiveness: it is absurd to suggest a “great homogenization” that would eliminate French, Italian, and Chinese restaurants.

Put simply, by 1931 Lovecraft openly admitted that the scientific consensus said there was no intrinsic biological difference between races and ethnicities, and instead he focused on the entirely non-scientific preservation of culture: this is a theoretical intellectual position quite different from run-of-the-mill racism. It is still arguably racist, but Lovecraft was clearly drawing a line between his personal discomfort being around people of different races, which he did not regard as requiring any justification beyond the purely emotional, distinct from his objection to dilution of culture consistent with The Decline of the West by Oswald Spengler, which sold hundreds of thousands of copies after its publication in English translation in 1926 despite being regarded by serious historians as nonsense from a crackpot; years earlier, Lovecraft evolved similar ideas that cultures have natural life cycles analogous to biological organisms, going through stages of birth, youth, maturity, decay, and death, so by the time Lovecraft read the first book in Spengler’s two-volume series, he was receptive.

Logically, although Lovecraft himself never carried out this reasoning to such a conclusion, his objection to cultural dilution would apply equally in all cases, leading to what we would today identify as multi-culturalism rather than racism: an indigenous African culture, for example, would be diluted by the introduction of European customs and practices, losing whatever elements make it distinctive and recognizable as a culture. Of course there is a power dynamic, and Europeans through naked brute force changed African culture far more than African culture changed European culture, but the theoretical logic as distinct from practical reality applies equally in both directions.

That Lovecraft compartmentalized his racist views to such an extent that he repeatedly violated them in practice is a fact for which we have incontrovertible evidence. Despite his numerous expressions of antisemitism, he married the Jewish Sonia Greene, maintained a close lifelong friendship with the Jewish poet Samuel Loveman, and accepted a ghostwriting job through Weird Tales magazine for the Jewish magician Harry Houdini (whose real name was Erik Weisz). Lovecraft’s expressed antisemitism only toward Jews who were not assimilated, again making his distinction between race and culture.

Lovecraft married under circumstances of unusual secrecy, telling his family and friends that he was traveling to New York City for a time, effectively pulling off an elopement at age 33. Clearly fearing her disapproval, he wrote his aunt a letter fully six days after the marriage telling her that the alternative to marriage was suicide due to boredom and financial despair. That should not be misread to infer that his marriage was an emotionless business arrangement as the couple had been genuine friends for years prior, but Sonia had a practical mindset that HP sorely lacked and from which he greatly benefited: She worked in the fashion industry and her income supported the couple while he proved persistently unemployable, although she had to relocate to Ohio leaving him in Brooklyn. The break-up of the marriage and unhappiness with his living situation led to stories such as “The Horror at Red Hook” and “He” that, according to Joshi, “written in the depths of his despair in New York, create a phantasmagoria of horror around the evil-looking foreigners in Brooklyn.”

How out of touch, for the time, were Lovecraft’s views on race and culture? He was uncommonly forthright, but mainstream politicians expressed substantially the same views in more obscured language, and they were able to implement their racism through public policy, especially immigration law. Daniel Okrent, the author of The Guarded Gate: Bigotry, Eugenics and the Law That Kept Two Generations of Jews, Italians, and Other European Immigrants Out of America, explained in The Washington Post (“Kushner’s immigration plan is a version of a discriminatory effort from more than a century ago”, May 19, 2019) that Henry Cabot Lodge, representing Massachusetts in the US Senate, beginning in 1895 wanted to disadvantage “Italians, Russians, Poles, Hungarians, and Asiatics,” and he finally got his way in 1917, with Congress overriding a veto from Woodrow Wilson.

When the D.W. Griffith film The Birth of a Nation in 1915 inspired the second incarnation of the Ku Klux Klan, by the 1920s the revived KKK had as many as four million members, about 15% of the national population eligible to join (that is, white Protestant men). In 1924, Okrent writes, the new Immigration Act “slashed immigration by means of brutal quotas” by 97% for Italians and 96% for Eastern European Jews. Those restrictive quotas remained in place until their repeal in 1965 and, according to David S. Wyman in The Abandonment of the Jews, significantly contributed to the death toll in the Nazi Holocaust.

The racism of Lodge and the KKK was motivated primarily by economics, concerns to which Lovecraft was totally oblivious: immigrants and African-American descendants of slaves were seen as competition in the labor market, especially by troops returning from World War I after 1918, leading to increasingly deadly race riots beginning in 1908 and culminating in 25 major racial conflicts during the “Red Summer” of 1919.

While so-called statesmen were advancing nakedly racist public policy supported by large majorities of American voters and based upon pseudo-scientific eugenics, affecting the lives of hundreds of thousands if not millions of people, in the same era HP Lovecraft, deprived of a proper education because of medical disability, was living a mundane and isolated existence in Providence, writing stories and letters but affecting no one’s life for the worse. Yes, Lovecraft was a flawed man, but his compartmentalized intellectual racism was grounded in his commitment to scientific materialism, and he eventually recognized under pressure from his friends that science had evolved to discredit racism.

The big question is to what extent, if any, did Lovecraft’s racism influence his writing? The essence of the Lovecraftian fictional world is fear and dread of an impersonal universe embodied by “elder gods” for whom mere mortal humans are an annoyance, like ants at their picnic. In my opinion, this commonality of the human condition inherently implies anti-racism: we are all the same, defined by our own insignificance in a vast, unfeeling universe, and this is the inevitable logical consequence of Lovecraft’s world view even if, tragically, he never himself realized this.

AltFacts: Big Happenings in Little Rhody: Perhaps willy freeing is a new summer trend

Saving People Money (So They Can Shoot Better)

We’ve all been there. Coming home from a long day at work, only a couple of hours before bed, but you still need to stock up on firearms so you can shoot the shit out of the minorities, immigrants, teachers and children threatening the integrity of this great nation. But fear not white supremacist hero, defender of the race, for there is an answer, and it comes out of Fayetteville, Arkansas. Yes, Walmart is one of the largest vendors of guns and ammunition on the planet, and its commitment to keeping everyone armed and paranoid is on par with the NRA. Last week, following three separate incidences of gun violence in Ohio, California and Texas, Walmart stuck to their guns in the face of radical leftist pressure to restrict sales of firearms and proceeded like nothing had happened in the first place. Speaking in an exclusive interview with Alt-Facts, an anonymous source at the top of the Walmart ladder revealed that the chain would instead attack the real villian fueling the crisis (Rockstar Entertainment et. al.) by ending the display of violent video games at all stores across their empire. Accordingly — in Walmart at least — firearms can continue to remain in the safe hands of the Second Amendment, its bearers unshaken by the endless pattering of leftist hysteria. However, the date the big WM plans to start selling Sherman Tanks and small nuclear weaponry to the citizens of Cleburne County, Alabama, has not, at time of print, been announced.

Whale of a Time

Navy veteran and all-around hero, Walter Wasowski of Middletown, recently came to the rescue of a whale that was trapped off the coast of Rockport, Mass. Spotting the distressed animal during a leisurely cruise, Wasowski promptly contacted the Marine Animal Entanglement Response team from the Center for Coastal Studies in Provincetown to lend a hand. In a process known as “unzipping,” willy freeing is a tricky procedure, with some in the business calling it just plain hard. But free the trapped monster they did, and after a pregnant pause, the beast plunged back into the depths. Why Mr. Wasowski was in Massachuestts in the first place, and not his native RI where we all belong, is still under investigation.

X Marks the Spot

Governor Gina “Hairspray” Raimondo recently announced that non-binary individuals (nothing to do computer code) will be able to have an X on their driving license to designate their gender identity. In what has been heralded as a step forward in freedom of sexual expression, the new law will come into place within the year and will be rolled out across the state. What this means for the X-Men series, however, is yet to be determined.

Record Breakers

Rumor has it that the Squad (Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Ilhan Omar, Ayanna Pressley and Rashida Tlaib) will be releasing a hip-hop album around Halloween. Featuring guest performances from Bernie “Beatbox” Sanders and Elizabeth “B-Boy” Warren, The Fall will focus on removing all the dying, orange leaves from the trees of Washington, gathering them into a pile and composting the remnants at a facility in Maryland. Whether there is some deeper analogy to this is, as far as we can tell, simply a coincidence.

It’s All in the Name

Sad news! Controversially named aquatic megabusiness, Water Wizz of Westerly, announced last week that they are closing their doors for good at the end of the season. According to sources close to the top, the closure comes after visitor numbers began to plummet following a change in urban slang. A motion was tabled to see the park renamed to Semen and Urine in order to bring it more in line with the lingo of today’s youth, but this, unfortunately, was defeated at the last minute.

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.

AltFacts: Rhymes with Cruller: Hey Dems — hurts, donut?

Mueller This

Nothing happened, nothing was going to happen and why did everyone think something was going to happen? Robert Mueller is a man of his word, and as such he did not recant on any of the promises he made after releasing his infamous report; he wouldn’t comment at length, he would not be led off point and he would not engage in the tug-of-war between dems and repubs over who will do what with the most fetishized president in history. And yes, he confirmed that the report does not exonerate Trump over the 2016 election. But again, the circus, the circus. Nothing is going to change in the White House until at least 2020, and the foot stomping, divided politics of the Democrat party are indicators that an eight-year term is well on its way. But instead, it looks like the rebooting of the Mueller Report is yet another safety blanket for flustered liberals in the face of a Trumpian reality. And that achieves absolutely nothing, other than surrendering any initiative that might yet remain.

Spice Up Your Life (Then Piss Off)

What is a fate worse than death? Until last week, almost everyone would have said, “living in Worcester, Mass.” and be done with it. But then came July 19, and the standards for awfulness dropped even further. In what can only be described as crass hate-baiting, the Woostah-bound “Good Riddance” Pawsox invited former White House press sekkkretary Sean Spicer to throw the first pitch at “Pride Night at the Ballpark” (oh, the audacity), before continuing their existing promotion with Chick-fil-A that if a spectator caught a foul ball, everyone in the stadium would get a coupon for a free chicken sandwich from the anti-LGBTQ sludge slingers. But this is just the tip of the iceberg. The soon-to-be “Woo” Sox are rumored to have approached the Westboro Baptist Church for next year’s celebration of Pride, with snacks provided by Tide Pods; because if anything tastes worst than Chick-fil-A, it’s a mouthful of laundry detergent.

NOS4A2 2.0

Warning! Absurdly named AMC show “NOS4A2” has been renewed for a second season, and while this means more dollars for the RI film industry, it also confirms that productions with pretentious names are here to stay. And it isn’t a victimless crime; all sorts of chaos has ensued in the show’s wake as directors attempt to reboot previous successes in line with AMC’s hipstery new trend. In Georgia, Tom Hanks has accepted the title role in the remake of 4ist Gump, while Hobbit fans everywhere can rejoice that Lord of Da Ringz is coming out in the spring. Longing for another bite at Peter Parker’s cherry? Spi-da-Man will be going into production this December, with the hotly anticipated Bak2 D’Future due in the fall. However, both Brad Pitt and George Clooney are reported to be distancing themselves from O’Shins!13; a romper comedy centered around a family of Irish podiatrists attempting to plunder the Vatican.

Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee (Pt. 2)…

(the longest sequel between columns in the history of the press)

Last summer, a floppy-haired imperial English Europhobe named Boris Johnson (Conservative Member of Parliament, UK) hosted a floppy-haired everything-aphobe called Donnie Thump at a meeting of racist idiots in London, England. Back then it was all fun and games; Tweedledum (aka. BoJo) was a comedic loon of a man who had very public aspirations for – but no real access to – the prime minister’s chair, while Tweedledee (Donnie) was a Twitter-bound nervous wreck trying to navigate a dying presidency from the golf course. But now things are a little different. Both men still look like clones, albeit one less ORANGE than the other … only that Tweedledum has actually become the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom (and in doing so, hastened the UK’s demise into the Dark Age of Brexit), and Tweedledee has emerged from his confused stupor to figure out the game of politics, making him dangerously untouchable/pretty much a dictator. And together, they will just encourage each other’s hatred, bigotry and anti-cosmopolitan navel-gazing (used for the second time in as many editions), perhaps to the ultimate demise of democracy as we know it. (Anyone else stockpiling beans?)

#ClintonBodyCount The White Wing of American politics just keeps getting sillier. Last Thursday, the hashtag #ClintonBodyCount started to trend on the Washington Herald (read, Twitter -ed.) …just in case anyone forgot that the president has a pathological obsession with the 42nd Commander-in-Chief and his political other half. According to this latest bout of hysteria, when convicted paedophile Jeffrey Epstein was found in his prison cell with neck injuries from an apparent suicide, it was toward the Clintons that twitching conservative fingers began to point. So, what actually happened? Speaking with an anonymous eyewitness, Alt-Facts has learned that ol’ Bill – dressed as the Hamburgler – was seen sneaking behind the Manhattan penitentiary where Epstein is incarnated, while HilDog – sporting a homemade incarnation of the Winifred Sanderson wig and frock – cast black magic on the prison guards. Thereafter, the rascally duo made a daring bid for Epstein’s throat, only to discover the clock was soon to strike midnight, meaning both Clintons would turn back into rats, thus thwarting their dastardly deed. The fact that the world might now be one step closer to being rid of a monster who molested children and trafficked teenage girls for prostitution and profit was, according to the public reaction, apparently neither here nor there.

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.

AltFacts: We Wouldn’t Have Gone Anyway: Our tin foil hat is at the cleaners

Social Mold

What do Facebook, Twitter and the mold under my big toe have in common? They’re all full of trolls? They have a combined IQ of 47? No, the answer is that not one of them was invited to last Thursday’s “social media” summit at the White (Supremacy) House. Hosted by KKK Trump, the Orangutan-in-Chief invited a slew of radical right wingers, including some who would put old Addy Hitler to shame, to a self-congratulatory frenzy of naval-gazing propaganda that would make North Korea wonder where it all went wrong. In an official release, a White House spokesperson (actually) commented that “the President wants to engage directly with these digital leaders” …‘leaders’ who included Bill Mitchell, the radio host who actively stirred the pot in the QAnon conspiracy, and Joseph Goebbels, the winner of the 1937 Trump Media Truths Award.

It’s Called >>> Satire <<<

Last week, the Twittersphere demanded to know why Motif was publishing the thoughts of my Alt-Facts colleague, Grumpy McTrumpy, an individual dubbed a ranting “racist.” Which is disappointing, because none of my leftist diatribes ever get picked out as extreme, only those of my esteemed right-wing colleague. How is this fair? I’ve spent all year trying to get under the skin of the good people of RI, only to have a part-time, bit columnist pip me to it. So @AstroNat90, who is Grumpy McTrumpy? Well, in a rare, once-in-a-lifetime, never-to-be-repeated reveal behind the curtain, Grumpy McTrumpy is a s.a.t.i.r.i.c.a.l character intended to be an ironic look at the right (also written by the same anonymous dweeb who writes Newspaper Cowboy… you can see his face and hear his voice every week on our social media video edition of the column). We hope this clears things up for you.

Closed Doors

Good news! Last week, CNBC’S Top States for Business announced the winners, and losers, of their strength of state business rankings… and Lil’ Rhody came rock bottom. But it’s gonna be okay! As CNBC pointed out, back in January, Governor Raimundo said, “We’ve stopped the decline, and together we have ignited a comeback of this great state.” And that’s a fact… just ask Rhode Island’s public schools.

Rhode Island Disaster Drinking Game

And while we’re on that topic, here’s a new drinking game! Anytime RI makes a political or economic balls-up, players must take a triple shot (to numb the pain) from a local spirits company. For instance. Do you live in Coventry? Best grab that bottle of Rhodium, because the state can’t afford to maintain your sewage system (or fund your fire department)! How about residents of Warwick? Time to reach for the White Dog, since your kids won’t be able to attend sports clubs come the fall.

Brexit Update Throwing the Baby Out…

So, 2019 is here and it’s insane. Last week it was revealed that an Instagram user was selling her used bathwater to anyone who wanted some (we’ve ordered a vial, because my armpits stink), but then the controversy hit! Apparently, the individual’s DNA was not found in some of the samples sent (who investigates that?!), causing all sorts of controversy. However, Alt-Facts is always eager to provide solutions for the masses, and we are proud to announce a new line of desirable consumer goods! Not only is my BO now for sale in packs of three, but Rob Smith is selling his teeth for a dollar a pop and publisher Mike Ryan is shedding skin in one-ounce bags. All inquiries, contact [email protected]

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

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. AltFacts: Everybody Was Kung-Fu Fighting: They all want to take da bait

Divide and KKKonquer

For liberals, anti-populists and anyone out there with a shred of compassion, there is only one objective in 2020; to oust the current administration and see what can be resurrected from the ashes. But if last week’s capricious Democrat debates are anything to go on, there is one objective in the leftist establishment: to bicker and dissolve into poo-chucking “look-at-how-much-better-I-am” pettiness. There was little to suggest a grip on the bigger picture and few moments for hopeful progressives to hold onto, just a top-rate display of squabbling that demonstrates a significant lack of focus utterly lacking in strategy. But don’t worry, these overpaid blowhards will be fine when they inevitably lose the 2020 election and the rest of us continue to burn in the orange glow. Yay for the future!

Ken Cuccinelli Is Right

– Grumpy McTrumpy

Damn right he’s right! If anyone is to be blamed for the drowning of a refugee minor on US soil, it is the goddamned father. Showing-off his swimming prowess, El Salvadorian migrant Oscar Alberto Martinez dropped his 23-month-old daughter, Angie, on the shore and went back into the water to help his wife. In a disobedient move typical of illegal immigrants, the young Latina child refused to obey her father and headed back into the water, only to begin to drown. Her father was then forced to divert his focus, in the process losing both his life as well as his daughter’s. His fault? Totally. As Ken “Compassion” Cuccinelli pointed out, if the Martinez family had entered America legally, they would still be alive and enjoying McDonald’s under the gracious cloak of liberty and freedom. – GMT

…or, Angie reached American shores, only to think, “Bugger that,” before making a bid for freedom. – NC

Gerrymandering (Is Great Again)

Who needs Russians when you have Republicans? As the 2020 shadow looms, the right wing is rolling out all the old tricks, with gerrymandering being dusted off yet again as the prime conservative tool for realigning political boundaries (just in case Donald isn’t as powerful a genius as he claims to be). But this year it’s different; the Supreme Court declared last Thursday that gerrymandering is, to put it bluntly, perfectly logical. Who cares what the voters want or think? Best to categorize communities by their political leaning and make sure they serve your purpose … rather than the other way around. #PeoplesRepublic

Go Fung Yourself

Following-on from Allan Fung’s genius “Girls Just Wanna Fung” campaign, the latest from Rhody’s Trump Fanboy sees the Cranston conservative fill in as a host on WPRO radio … just in case anyone with insomnia needs some dull monotony to listen to before falling asleep. And this is nothing against Mr. Fung’s nice-guy personality, rather an observation on his unique (very unique? -ed.) ability to bore anyone reached by radio waves. But don’t worry! Good ol’ Allan has come-up with a great name for his slot: Go Fung Yourself (politely).

Take Me Home, Country Rhodes

Things are getting controversial up in the State’s northern wastelands. Following years of hard campaigning, legislators finally sided with concerned locals and declined a bid proposing a fracking plant in Burrillville. But not everyone is happy with the decision. Speaking in an exclusive interview with Alt-Facts, pro-fracking activist (and future Trump press secretary), Li’l Dixie Tucker explained, “We just want to make Rhody great again, and a big component of that vision was to create our very own version of West Virginia right here in the Biggest Little.” Because nothing says progress to conservatives like tearing apart the environment.

We Don’t Need No (Educayshun)

What do “unnecessary overtime,” the Fane Tower and Gina Raimondo’s hairspray habit have in common? If recent reports are to be believed, each of these items is vastly more important in Rhode Island than the whimsical commodity that is education. According to a study conducted by John Hopkin’s University, pupils in the Ocean State can expect a cocktail of rats, asbestos and violence when entering the classroom (and that’s just on Monday mornings), all shaken-up by ineffectual and thoroughly under-equipped teaching staff. But that’s fine, because what we really need to do is offer $25 million in tax credits to the cretins behind the Fane Tower project, rather than help the future of the nation. (Because giving a foot-up to those in need just enables them, the impudent bastards).