Phillipe & Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: Rallies, 38 Studios and Civil Disobedience

Making America Grate

Your superior correspondents have watched far too many presidential debates this year. We have known all along that we would be voting Democratic (whether Bernie or Hillary), but can tell you, without hesitation, that we both support and will be voting for Bernie Sanders in the upcoming RI primary. The difference in the tone and tenor of the debates, from Republican to Democrat, are striking. The Democrats have stuck to issues and, while spirited and at times a bit snarky, Hillary and Bernie have been acting like real candidates in an adult election. The same cannot be said of the Republicans. Apparently Boobio has decided that acting like Trump Junior is not working for him but he is pretty much finished anyway. Kasich has done his best to keep things civil, while canny (but totally off the rails) Cruz has been pretty consistent in his loony vision of America. And Trump, who continues to win delegates and most of the primaries, is someone who is so ridiculous as to be beneath contempt. Can you imagine Abraham Lincoln setting out a table of “Lincoln Logs” during a press briefing in the way that Trump displayed his bad steaks, wine and water at one of his a few weeks back? Fist fights at his rallies should tell you all you need to know about how Trump plans to “bring us together.” The truly depressing part of his spectacle of a campaign is that so many people continue to vote for this. The narcissism is tangible. And now we have two former candidates, Christie and Carson, throwing in with Trump, perhaps in hopes of a cabinet position in the event of a worst case scenario for the USA. It’s a real circus. Sleep tight, America. Screwing the Pooch

We are going to wear out the memory of poor old Claude Rains, but like his Captain Louis Renault in Casablanca, Phillipe and Jorge are shocked — shocked! – to find that there was fraud involved by leaders of the state’s Economic Development Corporation (now RI Commerce) and Wells Fargo in regard to the 38 Studios debacle that left Little Rhody taxpayers on the hook for tens of millions of dollars.

The federal Securities and Exchange Commission has filed suit against EDC Keith Stokes and Michael Saul and Wells Fargo for not letting investors, and in the case of the EDC execs, their board (Gov. Donald Carcieri, proprietor), know that the $75 million loan the legislature slyly earmarked for 38 Studios was nowhere near enough to fund their video game enterprise after insiders took their cuts, in a deal that stinks like a car trunk occupied by a dead mobster at JFK Airport, Mafia Cemetery of the Stars.

If the EDC officials and their comrades were screwing the pooch on this deal, Wells Fargo appears to have been humping two great danes. That’s because not only did Wells Fargo allegedly not tip the wink to the EDC about this hummer, but they went ahead and sold the 38 Studio bonds without disclosing the fact that the deal was a hummer, and had no more chance of yielding a profit than a Kentucky Derby horse with 300-lb. jockey on his back dragging a refrigerator as it went around the track. Stokes and Saul have already copped pleas and settled with the SEC, but Wells Fargo is fighting the commission’s charges at this point. Although P&J find it hard to be surprised by any new revelations in regard to the 38 Studios scandal, we will be looking for Wells Fargo to now make some moves that would make “House of Cards” Frank Underwood blush. Hey, it’s Rhode Island, go for it. We have without a doubt seen more absurd gyrations from our own political leaders, and appreciate outrageous moves when we see them.

Late addition – P&J see that 38 Studios’ notorious CEO Curt Schilling has gone on the sports radio station WEEI in Boston and blamed Little Rhody’s corrupt politics as being the cause of his venture’s downfall. Well, that is certainly an easy –– and correct — target. But our shady-dealing government could not find a better collaborator than a dumb-as-a-rock, egotistical blowhard whose knowledge of business could fit in a thimble. Or a bloody sock, on a good day.

We Doth Protest Too Much?

As a result of the recent sit-in at the president of Providence College’s office and a protest march on campus over racism and lack of institutional diversity issues, President Rev. Brian Shanley was presented with a list of demands for reform steps to be taken by the local Catholic school.

In his promised response, President Shanley said that protest “protocols” should be put in place, following the lead of other august Biggest Little learning institutions such as Brown and Salve Regina. P&J particularly liked the example of one such protocol at PC’s fellow Catholic school, Salve, which has a mandatory “protest and demonstration request form” to be submitted by those bothersome malcontents who wish to raise a ruckus on campus … with administration approval, of course.

Pardon us, but since when has civil disobedience required a hall pass? People discontented with an ongoing problem of racism, diversity or any meaningful issue at the college they attend or the country they live in is not something they should have to apply for permission to protest. Peaceful demonstrations and those involved should not ever have to obey written instructions about where, when or how they are conducted, never mind the current practice of the laughable government-controlled “protest zones” for political events or activities that seem to be in favor these days. And too often obeyed, we sadly add.

In the print and/or newspaper world, these protocols are like allowing the subject of your story to edit your copy (say hi, Sean Penn), or allowing lobbyists to write the laws to regulate the industries for which they lobby. And if you want to point a finger at what’s really wrong in Washington, DC, and state capitals around the country, you can aim it at how many of the most important laws enacted by Congress and local legislatures have the grubby paw prints of private special interests all over them. Or they have language written by Corporate America’s loathsome lobbyists inserted verbatim to protect their masters’ interests and bottom line, with the total awareness and blessing of our bought-and-paid- for legislators.

The concept of protest protocols for acts of civil disobedience is totally contradictory and bogus. Instead, is all about heavy-handed control, and is a flagrant attempt to take away civil rights. We don’t recall Martin Luther King or Cesar Chavez filling out any applications in Selma or California when they set out to demonstrate, nor should any of the PC demonstrators (who have continually pointed to how peaceful and “progress-oriented” their actions have been to-date) or those on any other campus or political battleground who disagree with what is happening in their world. Back to the drawing board, Reverend Shanley, and P&J would urge anyone else who has this crap foisted upon them to tell these control freaks that demand it to stick up their protest zones. With your permission, of course.

Phillipe & Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: Screwing the Pooch 38 Studios Style

We are going to wear out the memory of poor old Claude Rains, but like his Captain Louis Renault in Casablanca, Phillipe and Jorge are shocked – shocked! – to find that there was fraud involved by leaders of the state’s Economic Development Corporation (now RI Commerce) and Wells Fargo in regard to the 38 Studios debacle that left Little Rhody taxpayers on the hook for tens of millions of dollars.

The federal Securities and Exchange Commission has filed suit against EDC Keith Stokes and Michael Saul, and Wells Fargo for not letting investors, and in the case of the EDC execs, their board (Gov. Donald Carcieri, proprietor), know that the $75 million loan the legislature slyly earmarked for 38 Studios was nowhere near enough to fund their video game enterprise after insiders took their cuts, in a deal that stinks like a car trunk occupied by a dead mobster at JFK Airport, Mafia Cemetery of the Stars.

If the EDC officials and their comrades were to be said to be screwing the pooch on this deal, Wells Fargo appears to have been humping two great danes. That’s because not only did Wells Fargo allegedly not tip the wink to the EDC about this hummer, but they went ahead and sold the 38 Studio bonds without disclosing the fact that the deal was a hummer, and had no more chance of yielding a profit than a Kentucky Derby horse with 300-lb. jockey on his back and dragging a refrigerator behind it as it went around the track.

Stokes and Saul have already copped pleas and settled with the SEC, but Wells Fargo is fighting the commission’s charges at this point. Although P&J find it hard to be surprised by any new revelations in regard to the 38 Studios scandal, we will be looking for Wells Fargo to now make some moves that would make “House of Cards’” Frank Underwood blush. Hey, it’s Rhode Island, go for it. We have without a doubt seen more absurd gyrations from our own political leaders, and appreciate outrageous moves when we see them. Phillipe & Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: Phucking Pharma, Hot Dogging Hosts and a Buddy Blunder

Phuck Big Pharma

Hats off to our old pal Senator Weldon Shitehouse for co-sponsoring a bipartisan bill in the US Senate that would provide better and more effective policies and programs to deal with opioid addiction. The opioid epidemic is currently flying fast and furiously in the country of late, thanks to the overprescription of drugs like OxyContin and the resultant consumer move toward comparably cheaper heroin once the cookie jar money runs out.

The good senator’s timing couldn’t have been better, as P&J noted that Big Pharma’s altruistic legal dope dealers are also starting to make a serious effort to help those suffering from the ravages of opioids … and turn a quick buck, naturally. We, of course, refer to the recent move by the deeply concerned folks from Big Pharma to begin marketing drugs like AstraZeneca that promise to relieve the terrible constipation caused by the extended use of Oxys, Roxys and China White. What a great relief for junkies of all persuasions everywhere! (Although the symptom of constipation brought on by downing your Oxys with a swig of Mad Dog 20/20 or shooting horse is quite real, or so we are informed by those on the drug abuse qui vive.)

Upon a time, P&J thought the worst, and most incredibly uncomfortable and embarrassing drug side effect one could possibly experience was one that was warned about years ago for products containing olestra – notably Frito Lay’s newly introduced potato chips – which promised the chance of “anal leakage.” If that visualization didn’t scare you off a product, nothing should. But that now seems to pale in the face of many of the undesired results of Big Pharma’s new drugs targeted at even the smallest possible affliction one might experience, like “restless leg syndrome,” which obviously would require a prescription medicine (honk!).

Phillipe and Jorge remain astonished at how many of Big Pharma’s products get on the market these days with FDA approval that list their idea of acceptable side effects, unanticipated pleasures such as projectile vomiting, heart attack and even in some cases, that bothersome thing called “death.” As the public has become inured and oblivious to the 15-second roll call of things that could disable you or kill you that runs at the end of many TV drug ads, the cover-your-ass disclaimers by Big Pharma now take up three pages of magazine space as they spell out how to use it “safely,” following the flashy print ads for their designer products encouraging you to down a handful of their product. “Oh, just take one, dear, the worst we can end up with is you in a coffin. But, hey, no anal leakage soiling your burial suit!”

Next up for Big Pharma’s drug abuser market? CoverYrTrax!™. Are those pesky track marks on your arm putting off potential employers and aggravating your parole officer? Just have your doctor give you a prescription for CoverYrTrax!™, the healing and concealing cream that will make those puncture wounds go away faster than you can say, “Call my dealer!” Why resort to shooting up between your toes when CoverYrTrax!™ can make your arms as smooth and unblemished as Lindsay Lohan’s? Wait, make that Charlie Sheen’s. No, how about Philip Seymour Hoffman’s? Oops, that was too soon and probably in bad taste. Well, not as bad taste as anal leakage, but we’re sorry. Anyway, get your doctor to write you up a prescription for CoverYrTrax!™, or just do it yourself on the script pad you stole from him on your last visit. You’ll be glad you did (and so will Big Pharma).

Real Estate Noir

Phillipe and Jorge were perusing the Newport Daily News recently when the item below caught our always-sharp eyes:

“Lovely contempt on a deadend street”? What an elegant, chill-thrill concept, fraught with dark danger! Perhaps they could have added more info to increase the tingling feeling P&J got when we read it. “Ideal for bitter, brooding divorcee, preferably good-looking. Streetlight out. Broken window. Chilling wind. Dog barking at night. Trash blowing down street. ‘No Future’ spray-painted on outside wall.” Move quickly on this property, boys and girls, and you might beat Sam Spade to it.

Jimmy, Conan and Donald

Jimmy Fallon and Conan O’Brien both have their own TV shows, “The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon” on NBC, and “Conan” on TBS. Yes, we knew you were aware of this.

Unfortunately, both of their shows, to be kind, suck beyond belief. Neither man is funny and both are badly ignorant of the core idea of what made Johnny Carson the Eternal God of Late Night: The show should be for and about your guests and your audience, not a nightly personal vanity/ego trip.

Fallon has been annoying ever since his stint on “Saturday Night Live,” where he nonetheless did some good work. But he has carried over his cringe-worthy habit of laughing at his own jokes — even if other people aren’t — and forcing his way into every aspect of his show, demanding center stage with far greater luminaries who appear as guests. O’Brien is equally guilty of the latter offense, and he seems to have somehow gotten the impression that him vogue-ing for the camera is an incredible display of comedic art, and what the American public loves and is dying to see more of. One would think that having lasted only months as the “Tonight Show” host in years prior to Fallon when his ratings tanked, he might have learned something. But P&J suspect it is just a case of TBS viewers being a lower common denominator than NBC’s.

The point here is that the true master of TV is Donald Trump and his presidential campaign, which actually flies in the face of what makes Fallon and O’Brien so unwatchable. Trump’s show is all about him and only him, me-me-me, all the time, everywhere. Supporters are visual and audio props for this new reality show that just happens to possess unthinkable and unspeakable consequences for the entire country if it gets picked up in November for four years. He has personally sunk so low in his public frothings and dictatorial pronouncements and delusions that you could hit golf balls off the orange turf of his head, but one day later people (and the compromised media) are just dying to see today’s episode.

But let us let Matt Taibbi explain more from his bit on The Donald in the February 24 issue of Rolling Stone:

“(I)n an insane twist of fate, this bloated millionaire scion has hobbies that have given him insight into the presidential electoral process. He likes women, which got him into beauty pageants. And he likes being famous, which got him into reality TV. He knows show business…That put him into position to understand that the presidential election campaign is really just a badly acted, billion dollar TV show whose production costs ludicrously include the political disenfranchisement of its audience.”

Amen. Maybe we should have been happy with just Fallon laughing at his own lame jokes and Conan posing for the camera. God help us all.

Time for the Rock n’ Roll Collectors Convention Again

Dr. Oldie’s original Southern New England Rock n’ Roll Collectors Convention is back. On Sunday, March 6, from 10am to 3pm, the convention reconvenes at the Ramada Inn on Rte. 44 in Seekonk. Mass. There’s free parking and a large group of collectors and fans will be there to buy, sell or trade vinyl (albums and 45s), CDs, tapes, DVDs, books and posters. If you are a collector or a fan, you’ll want to be there.

A Brief Explanation

A month ago, Phillipe & Jorge wrote a remembrance of former mayor and Vo Dilun icon, Buddy Cianci. Among the anecdotes was one about the WPRO talk hosts not exactly being on chummy terms when the Bud-I returned to the airwaves after his “enforced vacation.” We noted that two very well-placed sources inside the radio station reported this to us at the time.

It was an old anecdote and we had no reason to believe it wasn’t true but, after the publication of the story, we spoke with WPRO talk host Dan Yorke who told us that, in recent years, he and Buddy had become quite friendly and he felt that our comment that they didn’t “get along” was really not accurate.

So, your superior correspondents would like to say, oops, we really didn’t reflect the totality of the situation with that story and would like to let you know that Buddy and Dan really were quite friendly, Sorry for the misunderstanding.

A Halitosis Hall War, a Big Oops and RIMHOF Inductees

How Halitosis Hall Works Now that the controversial RhodeWorks tolling plan bill has been rushed through the General Assembly and signed by Governor Gigi, it should now be the legislature’s top priority to pass an ethics bill with some teeth in it. But don’t hold your breath, boys and girls.

Democratic state Sen. James Sheehan of North Kingstown, who P&J have found to be a smarmy and self-promoting piece of work at times, has been pushing hard for an ethics bill in the past few years. His frustration about the blatant stonewalling of any ethics reform at Halitosis Hall has obviously reached the boiling point; he recently claimed that in a meeting of the Senate Democratic Caucus, Senate President Teresa Paiva Weed warned her colleagues that House Speaker Nick “Sgt. Schultz” Mattiello threatened her that if any ethics bills popped over the horizon in the senate that the house (read: His Excellency Mattiello) would, as Paiva Weed supposedly termed it, go to “war” with the senate. This would involve the house not passing any personally prized bills that might emerge from the august solons in that chamber. And in an election year, when legislators are looking to show their constituents what great contributions they’ve made to the common weal, having your sponsored bill blown out of the water once it crosses the rotunda into the snake pit known as the house can put a real hole in your re- election plans — especially if you are facing a tough opponent in November. Ah, such a civil, exalted and honorable way to run a state government designed to serve the great unwashed of The Biggest Little.

Actually, the RhodeWorks bill offered up another example of Sgt. Schultz’s imperious, heavy-handed and begrimed style of governing. Before Gigi finished handing out the ceremonial pens used to sign the tolling legislation, the speaker spanked and yanked three fellow Democrats who voted against RhodeWorks from their choice committee appointments: Rep. Raymond Hull from the powerful House Finance Committee; Rep. Joseph Solomon from the House Judiciary Committee; and Rep. Robert Phillips from the House Committee on Corporations. Hit it, James Brown – The Big Payback!

Ethics? Not around these parts, pal.

Funny Paper

The Other Paper has been quite pleased with itself of late after their big “makeover.” And the expansion of the already excellent commentary/editorial/op-ed pages has been a success, but while the varied and informed opinions are ultimately read-worthy, the new design and fonts still leave a good deal to be desired.

But as far as layout goes, perhaps The Urinal’s parent company Gatehouse Media fired a bit too many of its editors. We refer, of course, to the fact that Thursday’s edition of the rag included the same full page of comic strips that ran the day before. Ooops! P&J have a hard time imagining how anyone at a first- rate newspaper can let an entire, full-color redundant page escape their notice (we would never suggest it was conspiratorial revenge on recent employee cuts), unless the composers were dead drunk or asleep (which we obviously would not suggest as well … unless asked). However, the funny pages usually are the third thing readers go to after the front page and the first page of the sports section, and just before the Irish sports pages (the obituaries), so it’s amazing this error got past final muster.

Perhaps instead of another inspired and creative re-design charrette, the ink-stained wretches in charge of Our Little Towne’s organ of record might do well to make sure a full-page error doesn’t escape their refined eyes before making a dash for the nearest convivial watering hole that has more people in it than the deserted Urinal newsroom. Il Duce and Il Douche

The “Lookalike” item below appeared in the January 8 edition of England’s Private Eye magazine’s letters to the editor section, and P&J thought it well worth sharing with our politically and historically astute readers. (And yes, the names were intentionally switched, Mr. and Ms. Nitpickers.)

Nice resemblance, although we think Benito’s cap is far more fashionable than Trump’s dead animal topper. Scowling practice at 3:00, don’t be late. Oh, OK, Benito, you have an excuse.

National Politics: Can it Get Any Weirder?

While the results of the New Hampshire primary were no great surprise at Casa Diablo, the way the campaign (on the Republican side, anyway) is being conducted continues to both worry and amuse us (although the amusement value is shrinking as we realize that one of these clowns might actually win in November). While the primary rules continue to confound us — that Bernie and Hillary could both come out with the same number of delegates after he virtually drubbed her in the vote count — rules are rules. We only hope that, ultimately, the people’s voice will be heard and heeded.

On the GOP side, Trump is threatening to “sue” Cruz because he was born in Canada. Sounds like a new kind of lawsuit to us and we wonder if “the heavy hitter” is in on it. Rubio, who morphed into “Marco Roboto” during the last Republican debate, may be losing ground based on his cluelessness, but it is questionable whether Jeb Bush, who is dangerously close to morphing into a Johnny “Ray” Boehner clone if and when he finally bursts into tears, can gain anything from Roboto’s stumble. John Kasich, arguably the sanest one in the bunch, may actually get some traction here. Your superior correspondents hope that Bernie and Hillary can keep from the sort of low blows and misdemeanors that seem de rigeur for the Republicans. RI Music Hall of Fame The Rhode Island Music Hall of Fame announced their selections for 2016 inductions on February 12. While Richard Walton, the face of Stone Soup coffeehouse for so many years, and Carl Henry, the pioneering rock ‘n’ roll and jazz DJ who owned one of the best record stores ever in the Biggest Little, and Frankie Carle, the swing-era pianist and songwriter, have all passed on, Jorge is proud to have known Richard well and to have haunted Carl’s Diggins back in the late ’60s and early ’70s. Carol Sloane, the great jazz singer, will perform at Chan’s at one of the induction events in April, which will be a treat. And congratulations to old friends Bill Harley, Sugar Ray Norcia and the Bluetones and Greg Abate — all fine musicians and performers.

Naturally, Jorge is too proud (and of course very shy, as is his reticent reputation) to mention it directly, but in his real life as Rudy Cheeks, he was one of the leaders of both the Fabulous Motels and Young Adults. His photo onstage wearing a wedding dress and holding his saxophone is a Little Rhody music scene cultural icon. And as a recent live reunion performance of the Young Adults proved, Phillipe is not the only one who still remembers the lyrics to virtually all their songs, from “A Power Tool is Not a Toy” to their biggest crowd pleasers, “Men” and “Complex World.” Phillipe sometimes feels like a ch-ch-ch- chimpanzee when he falls all over himself saying they were the best Biggest Little band he ever saw and arguably the best ever (with a tip o’ the beret to Roomful of Blues), but there is a case to be made. Outside the music scene, both the Motels and Young Adults had an enormous influence on the local hipster scene, we owe them our congratulations, thanks and continued applause.

Phillipe and Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: 38 Studios and Taking Their Candy and Going Home

Important note: Phillipe and Jorge deeply mourn the passing of our longtime friend Buddy Cianci. See our special reminiscences and tribute to him.

Whaddya Expect?

Phillipe and Jorge hope the members of the House Oversight Committee (the “Out, Damn Spot!” Committee), looking into the 38 Studios scandal have compost piles at home so they can enrich them with the tons of horse manure shoveled at them by former House Finance Committee Chairman Steve Costantino when he testified before them recently.

As anyone with an inkling of how Little Rhody government works is well aware, the house finance chair is one of the most powerful people in state politics — in ways having more clout than the governor. Which is why Costantino’s claims to the committee that he acted at someone else’s behest when he suddenly upped the ante on his bill to provide guaranteed loans to businesses by $75 million prior to a vote on the bill — supposedly without knowing the $75M was targeted for 38 Studios — doesn’t pass the laugh test. Costantino, an oily, arrogant little weasel if you ever saw one, also told the Out, Damn Spot Committee he was pressured by the then Economic Development Corporation (now RI Commerce Corporation) to increase the bill’s total, laying the blame on the EDC for the resultant public rip-off. Pul- eeze. Costantino would no more have felt pressure from the EDC than he would a homeless person walking in off Smith Street to make demands of His Highness.

As P and J have pointed out before, Costantino first claimed publicly he was being a good little boy and following the orders of his “superiors.” His “superiors” do not include the EDC. Rather, his direct superiors — note the plural, folks, it’s important — were the unspeakable little punk House Speaker Gordon Fox (now in prison for unrelated crimes), and then House Majority Leader Nick Mattiello (now house speaker and not in prison). Fox took the fifth about a gazillion times when questioned about the 38 Studios deal, which of course always points to a defendant’s innocence. Costantino’s other “superior,” Mattiello, has done his best Sgt. Schultz “I know noss-sink!” impression to date, in essence saying Fox and Costantino regarded him as either too stupid or incompetent to be let in on the subterfuge. Or he’s lying and willing to look like an out-of-the-loop dope who was played by his colleagues. Either way, fine credentials for the now most powerful man in Biggest Little’s political universe.

But since Mattiello re-convened the House Oversight Committee and handpicked its chair, Lady Macbeth (Rep. Karen MacBeth), we shouldn’t expect her own “superior” to be called before the Out, Damned Spot Committee any time soon. This, despite Costantino’s accusing his “superiors” in assertions before he got to the stage where you could expect that anytime his lips were moving he was lying. Ignorance is bliss, eh, Nick?

Civics 101

We all know about the current problems in Flint, Michigan, but there must also be something in the water in North Smithfield that damages the brain.

A town council meeting in North Smithfield is not normally something that attracts much attention. Phillipe and Jorge are not saying the town is out in the sticks municipality-wise, but the only thing they are missing is a blind kid on the front porch of town hall quick-picking a banjo.

For proof of its off-every-beaten-path sense of reality, a recent council meeting looked to have been directed by Jerry Springer, with members having a go at each other with various charges of wrongdoing that ranged from sleeping on the job to accepting large boxes of chocolate-covered strawberries as “bribes.” (Listen, darlings, if you ever want to bribe P&J, you better bring something more than a cheap version of a Whitman’s Sampler to the table, and it damn well has to pack a bigger punch than a bunch of marinated fruits.)

The fuse was lit by the comments Councilor Roseanne Nadeau left on the webpage of the local rag, The Valley Breeze, which included calling the chocolate treats a “bribe” for a previous vote. She was summarily asked to resign from the council. To cut a long story short about this asylum scene from Marat/Sade, while charges of sleeping on the job by the town planner remained moot as the inmates squabbled, perhaps the most laughable confrontation came from councilors Paul Zwolenski and Nadeau over who left the meeting with the biggest box of chocolates.

“Paul took the biggest box and said, ‘I deserve this,’ and left,’” claimed Nadeau. “Roseanne Nadeau took the largest box of chocolates that night,” countered Zwolenski, in brilliant riposte worthy of Oscar Wilde or Winston Churchill.

Both councilors are believed to be over the age of 9. RIP, Malcolm Grear

James Malcolm Grear (known to all as Malcolm) passed away on January 24. He was a major figure in the Rhode Island arts community, having been a faculty member at the Rhode Island School of Design since 1960. He also founded and ran an award-winning design studio, Malcolm Grear Designers, Inc., in Providence. He was a teacher and mentor to numerous young designers. Jorge remembers performing with his band, The Young Adults, at a party back in the 1970s at Grear studios on Eddy Street. Unfortunately, the thing he remembers most was a Brown University professor (who will remain nameless) yelling because the grad student he was trying to seduce had a crush on J. This, of course, had nothing to do with Malcolm, but it’s the kind of thing you remember.

Buddy, We Really Knew Thee

By now, we’re sure that you have read much about the legendary, enigmatic mayor of Providence who passed away on Thursday, January 28, at the age of 74. Vincent A. “Buddy” Cianci was a friend of Phillipe and Jorge’s, and referred to in the Cool, Cool World column as either Buddy “Vincent A.” Cianci (to flout journalistic form, since 75% of his supporters probably didn’t know his real first name) or the Bud-I, for his almost religious focus on his own one and only exalted presence.

Having spent decades covering the Bud-I when he was mayor, appearing with him on the radio or at fundraisers, hanging out with him at taverns and other late night haunts, we, like many others, have a bunch of stories and anecdotes about the “Bud-I years.” But instead of the tried and true yarns cited by the mainstream remembrances, here are a few that took place behind the scenes with the involvement of P&J alone or as a pair, that you might find entertaining or enlightening.

We considered Buddy a longtime friend, and a typical encounter with him might have gone along the lines of Buddy saying, “You two assholes were criticizing me about (insert scandal here), and none of it was true. How’re ya doing? Let’s have a drink.” P&J used the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde analogy long before Judge Ernest Torres invoked it at the Bud-I’s sentencing for conspiracy, and it has always seemed an apt and even fair one. From the Marquette Law School rape accusation to the birth of the “Renaissance City” to exalting Our Little Towne nationally and internationally to his stay at the government’s pleasure at Ft. Dix to his last hurrah during the 2014 run for mayor of La Prov, the man was a force of nature who could make you laugh as easily as cry.

Here goes from the Phillipe and Jorge Bud-I vault … The Legacy

One of Buddy’s favorite stories was when he attended a big political shindig in Florida after having been elected Providence mayor for the first time at the ripe age of 33. He was ordering a drink when the bartender said, “You look familiar.” Busting his buttons with pride, the Bud-I informed him he was the mayor of Providence, Rhode Island. To which the bartender replied, “Do you know Raymond?” (For our younger readers, “Raymond” meant Raymond L.S. Patriarca, the nationally notorious head of organized crime in New England, with a home office on Federal Hill, who Cianci prosecuted for a mob murder.) Such was the celebrity pecking order for Little Rhody in those days.

But P&J believe that from now on, if it hasn’t happened already, the Bud-I’s legacy will be that whenever you introduce yourself on your travels as coming from Providence, one of the first questions out of the mouths of strangers will be, “Did you know Buddy?” Salud!

On the Silver Screen

In 1996, there was two-part documentary, Vote for Me: Politics in America, which appeared on PBS. One of the segments was about Buddy and, somehow, he found out that Jorge was the narrator for the film. A couple of months prior to its scheduled debut on national television, J got a phone call from Buddy, ringing up from City Hall.

Buddy to Jorge: “Do you have a videotape of the show?”

Jorge: “Yes, I do, Buddy.”

Buddy: “Bring it down here. I want to see it.”

Jorge: “When?”

Buddy: “Right now.”

J jumped on the Broad Street bus (he was living in an illegal loft off of Broad at the time) and headed down to City Hall to the Bud-I’s office. As soon as his secretary let him know he was there, Buddy signaled him into the office and whipped out a couple of Cuban cigars (smoking these in City Hall was as illegal as J’s loft). They puffed away and J gave him the videotape that they watched via the VHS in his office. Buddy liked it and so, he rewound it and started buzzing City Hall employees to come into the office and watch it.

They watched it again and then Buddy says, “Hey, let’s have a premiere here at PPAC before it airs on TV. Have you got the producer’s number?”

“Yes, I do.”

So Buddy called Louie Alvarez (one of the producers) in New York and asked if he wanted to do a premiere at the PPAC. Louie said, “Sure,” and then Buddy immediately called PPAC to, a) book a date and, b) get the place for free. Then he gave marching orders to one of his assistants to call the union that would work a show like this at PPAC and get a deal with them.

And, yes, the premiere happened at PPAC and, yes, a fine time was had by all.

Pen Pals

Speaking of PPAC, its renovation was one of the most fond and proudest of Buddy’s memories. Phillipe and Jorge corresponded with the Bud-I while he was living at his Ft. Dix gated community, where we would send him info about behind-the-scenes activities in Our Little Towne and the state. He also kept up through the copies of The Urinal and Providence Phoenix he received. Although these missives were confidential, the carefully handwritten 8 to 10 page letters we received showed a very human side of the man — although he would manage to get in one gripe every time about being nailed on only one indictment out of many that had him sent away for five years, and losing the subsequent appeal by only one vote. But looking back on his years as Hizzoner, he once wrote in 2005, “I take great solace knowing that what a lot of what so many people accomplished during my years in office are taking fruit — the PPAC now presenting The Lion King is a big trip from when those neighbors wanted to tear the theater down so many years ago.” His love of the arts and promoting same were critical to La Prov’s turnaround, as the likes of AS220’s Bert Crenca and WaterFire’s Barnaby Evans have been telling every news outlet upon the Bud-I’s passing.

You Guys Suck

Then there was the time in the early ‘90s, at a fundraiser/auction for Crossroads RI at the Roger Williams Park casino. They invited numerous local “celebrities” (Patrick Kennedy, P&J, Channel 12’s Karen Adams, etc.) to do humorous skits and then auctioned off prizes. P&J were downstairs having a drink with the Bud-I (who made a point of telling us, “You guys sucked”) before we went back upstairs to our table where we were sitting with Mary Ann Sorrentino. The Bud-I was supposedly leaving and headed to the men’s room to steel up his courage, so to speak, before leaving for the next event, but he apparently heard Karen Adams doing her skit that included joking references to the mayor his own self. He stormed back upstairs and, when the bids came in for whatever prize was being auctioned off, he kept bidding but insisting that, if he won, he wanted to have the microphone again.

Naturally, he made the highest bid and got the microphone back and immediately launched into a spiel about how Phillipe & Jorge sucked and so did Karen Adams. We all had a good laugh, rolled our eyes and could only say, “Well, that’s Buddy,” and then he was gone with the wind.

Hall Monitors

While media outlets like you to think that everyone presenting their happy news is oh-so-chummy off the air as well, nothing could be further from the truth than when Buddy joined WPRO after coming back from his enforced vacation. The Bud-I couldn’t stand his fellow radio hosts John DePetro (well, everyone loathes DePetro) and Dan Yorke for putting the boot on him for his past transgressions. And the extent of his disdain for both of them led to station insiders saying that DePetro and Yorke would practically have someone check the halls for Cianci before they left their studios lest they encounter him face-to-face and feel the wrath firsthand.

Entourage

Don’t cross Buddy. That was gospel for anyone in Our Little Towne who wanted to survive Mr. Hyde’s emergence from the dark side. Most notably taught that lesson were the stiff WASP-y necks at Brown’s University Club who denied the Bud-I admission, and then surprisingly found permits to renovate their East Side eating establishment extremely hard to obtain. At least until they were forced to take a walk down College Hill to plant a soon well-publicized kiss on a certain derriere at City Hall, accompanied by an approved membership application to their boys’ club.

It was also a rule famously broken by a bar/restaurant on North Main Street during the Bud-I’s reign. When Buddy arrived at the popular club late one evening with a full entourage, the bouncer allowed the mayor in for free, but insisted the rest of his entourage pay the cover charge. By noon the next day, the bar’s licenses had been lifted for violation of whatever ordinances immediately came to mind, which could have ranged from health violations to having ugly cocktail glasses.

Snap Shots

But the Bud-I could also take a joke … at times. A photographer friend of P&J’s was at the grand re- opening of the Arcade in downtown Providence years ago, where all the city’s major domos donned top hats for the ceremony. Our pal noticed that when they prepared to play the national anthem, all the top hats came off — except for Buddy’s. He had evidently snagged his famous toupee on the hat, and rather than risk tearing it off and having a shot of his bald head appear in the next day’s paper, he just left his hat on. When P&J informed him of this lapse in etiquette, and we knew why, he got a good chuckle. But he did get a bit miffed after he was sent to Ft. Dix when a member of the cast in an annual Providence Journal Follies show claimed to be wearing an actual Cianci rug during the production, writing to inform P&J that all of his real “squirrels “ — an elite lineup ranging from “new haircut” to “getting a bit long” to “a touch of gray now” — were in storage under the stewardship of David from his beloved Squire’s hair salon. Since he arrived back in Little Rhody sans squirrel to the delight of one and all, the location of the most famous rugs in local history (sorry, Rustigians) remains a well-kept secret.

Best Line Under Duress

The Bud-I almost couldn’t help but come up with a good line, even under pressure or in the worst of times. In a famous story when the feds were breathing down his neck, he was given a photo by a local FBI man from a video showing his chief of staff, Frank Corrente, taking a bribe and tucking it away in his office right after being handed it. Running down to Corrente’s office and bursting in screaming at him about being a moron for being caught red-handed on tape, Corrente reportedly said, “I can say I was taking it out to give to him, not putting it away,” to which the Bud-I screamed, “What do you think they are going to do, run the tape backwards in court?!?!”

We loved you and we will miss you mightily, Bud-I, you wild and crazy guy.

Phillipe and Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: Lack of Ethics Abound

Affluenza, Little Rhody-style

“Let me tell you about the very rich. They are different from you and me.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald

No shit, Sherlock, er, F. Scott. Unfortunately that doesn’t pertain to the crassest behavior exhibited at times by the Great Unwashed, as the sexual rape and molestation scandal at the (once-) prestigious St. George’s School in Middletown is revealing. The people who run the school seem quite able to descend to the vilest activities possible, one level of hell that isn’t governed by bank account size or social pedigree.

This prep school, predominantly for the wealthy (at $56,000 thou a year tuition for high schoolers, we hope we don’t find an argument), has been exposed as covering up or smothering complaints about decades of molestation and/or rape of students. Some of the actions, or inactions, of the school’s administration may well be criminal (e.g., not immediately reporting accusations of rape to the authorities), but all of it is detestable. The administration at St. Groper’s is handling this exhumation of crimes committed by essentially everyone in power at the school since the 1970s with all the grace exhibited by the contestants in Monty Python’s fabled “Upper Class Twit of the Year” competition sketch. Whether it was imposing a gag order on the students who brought the allegations, ignoring their complaints, or quietly cashiering the accused, which includes staff, an assistant Episcopal chaplain and other students, or simply acting as if nothing occurred and the victims didn’t exist, St. Groper’s leaders obviously felt that they were above such trivialities as the law, and hoped the public would believe, as they pretend to, “we are above doing such things.”

Putting the cherry on top of this elitist arrogance was that the person chosen by St. Groper’s to conduct their investigation into the initial charges just happened to be the totally unbiased and conflict-free (honk!) law partner of the school’s attorney. That move didn’t even pass the laugh test. It was a blatant designed-to-cover-our-ass move that would have made even notorious kangaroo court king NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell blush. Fortunately, but weeks late and dollars short, St. Groper’s has agreed to an independent investigation, albeit after having been publicly derided and having their backs pushed to the wall.

Phillipe and Jorge admire the bravery of the men and women who were victims of this abuse and are now coming forward demanding that St. Groper’s face the music. Not surprisingly, their courageous stance has resulted in even more former students citing they, too, suffered sexual abuse, and the hush- up of the molestation is gradually collapsing on itself.

If St. Groper’s is indeed committed to promoting honor, dignity and class, as they claim, the entire board of trustees and the current headmaster, obviously aware of the scandal and loathe to blow the whistle on themselves, should resign. And as for the headmaster, P&J would like to see him spend part of his retirement in a very nice Big House in Cranston.

Ethics? We Don’t Need No Stinking Ethics!

While the local chattering heads and political pundits respond to the upcoming session of the general assembly by frothing on about tolls, jobs and the economy (hey, didn’t the environment once matter in a world long ago and far away?), the number one item on its priority list should be putting a referendum on the November ballot calling for teeth to be returned to the de-fanged state ethics commission through a constitutional amendment.

Phillipe and Jorge don’t know what is worse: having a blatantly corrupt state government or having legislators give you the finger before they bend you over. It is bad enough that the preponderance of uncontested races for house and senate seats makes about one-third of the legislature accountable to no one. But since a RI Supreme Court ruling in 2009 essentially told legislators that conflict of interest on Smith Hill was as mythical as the mafia, our august elected officials answer to no one except those in the political leadership. And those less-than-exemplary champions of improving the well-being of themselves and their friends at the troughs of power and greed could give a rat’s ass if it is obvious, because the silence of the lambs in their flock makes it all possible.

So don’t be distracted by the pontificating and blathering over toll roads, development incentives and all the same putrid air emitted from Halitosis Hall. Instead, make sure that renewed ethics enforcement is number one on the list of every politician still able to totter around on his or her hind legs. All the rewards will follow, with less of the stain of outright corruption on the final products produced. Gosh, imagine that! Terrible Swift Sword

Phillipe and Jorge are not huge fans of Taylor Swift, but we have a new appreciation of her after reading in The Urinal of a remark she recently made about a contretemps in Watch Hill, where she has a seaside mansion.

When a local restaurant owner in the snooty community installed solar panels on its roof, the Watch Hill Fire District appealed to the local zoning board to have them taken down because they disturbed the precious view of the area from the street. As the always astute Urinal columnist Ed Fitzpatrick reported, Swift heard about it and said, “Never in my ‘Wildest Dreams’ would I expect solar panels to create ‘Bad Blood’ with a fire district unless they broke into flames. I mean, who’s the fire chief down there — Martha Stewart?”

P&J don’t know the fire chief’s real name, but we are fairly sure that he’ll be answering to ‘Martha’ for the rest of his career. Nice work, Taylor.

Kudos and Congrats

… to the Bud-I, former mayor and current talk radio host, Buddy “Vincent A.” Cianci. Soon after the new year, it was revealed that Buddy is engaged to be married to Tara Marie Haywood (he asked her to marry him on Christmas Eve). May they have a happy and successful union.

… to Casa Diablo regular Kate Nagle, the news editor for the online news organ, GoLocalProv. She broke the Danny Amendola carport story (with all its attendant intrigue and East Side silliness). That Kate got the original story was well known, except by the Associated Press who neglected to give her attribution — standard courtesy in the news bidness.

Move Over, Soccer Moms

Since American journalists are quick to appropriate any British-ism that they are too thick and clueless to come up with on their own, P&J alert you in advance to an expression that will doubtless make it into our media lingo as the presidential campaign slogs along. Instead of catering to the political tastes of the numbingly cited “soccer moms,” look for White House hopefuls needing to sway to their cause the “white van man.” While white vans are unfortunately associated with child abductions or international espionage kidnappings, as well as the plumbers, contractors and other working class heroes who drive them — and we aren’t quite sure if the term refers to the color of their skin or the van — P&J suggest you will hear it often in the very near future as a critical target audience for politicians.

Remember, you heard it here first (after we lifted it from the Limeys).

RIP, Guido Panzini

The actor Pat Harrington, Jr. passed away last week at 86. While most will remember him as the cocky handyman Dwayne Schneider on “One Day at a Time,” Phillipe & Jorge (old guys that we are) were first introduced to Mr. Harrington as “Guido Panzini,” one of Steve Allen’s Men on the Street on the old Steve Allen show in the 1950s (also the launching pad for Tom Poston, Louis Nye and Don Knotts). Guido also would pop up regularly on Jack Paar’s show.

Pat was pretty good and pretty versatile and did a mean Lawrence Welk impersonation (“wunnerful, wunnerful”). He will be missed.

Phillipe and Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: Powering Up, Insensitive Twits, er, Tweets, and Holiday Wishes

Wealthy and Influential We’re sure that no one was surprised to see that Phillipe & Jorge were not cited by GoLocalProv (in their annual listing of the “50 most wealthy and influential Vo Dilanduhs”) as being among that august company. What’s the matter? Doesn’t Casa Diablo’s burgeoning 4-figure bank account merit respect? However, we are content to note that we still have some influence, even if it’s only down at the Kennedy Plaza bus hub.

Get Energized

Much agitation up in sleepy Burrillville, where a firm named Invenergy is attempting to build a 900- megawatt fossil fuel-fired power plant. Demonstrations resembling a light version of the old Seabrook protests have already taken place, with some demonstrators even coming from out of state; such is the fear of more such facilities being sited along the East Coast. In matters of energy, Phillipe and Jorge always turn to our friends at the Conservation Law Foundation, with whom we have worked for and alongside for years. While Invenergy has trotted out all their promotional materials and dubious claims that the new power plant will be a boon for The Biggest Little, CLF Senior Attorney Jerry Elmer, an old and respected pal, begs to differ, to put it kindly.

In three big areas, Elmer and CLF are far from amused by what Invenergy is telling the public. (Although interestingly enough, Invenergy officials refused to talk to R.I. Public Radio’s environmental reporter Ambar Espinoza when she did an initial story on it.)

CLF’s Elmer says that for starters, not only would the plant produce more carbon emissions that play right into future climate change problems in Vo Dilun, but that the facility would make it impossible for the state to meet its stated emissions goal. Second, while Invenergy is touting their spewing plant as a big energy cost saver for Little Rhody residents, CLF has run (and published) the numbers showing that “maybe” there would be a cost cut of only one-half of one percent. Maybe.

The real hummer, according to CLF, is the pumped-up and veiled threat that without the new plant, R.I. could end up with an electricity shortfall and be unable to prevent future blackouts. This is blatantly false (or in legalese, “bullshit”), and Elmer writes that the predicted “capacity shortage does not exist.”

We know that this kind of stuff makes your eyes glaze over, as it normally does ours, but Elmer and CLF have taken the time to spell out, concisely and using words and explanations normal human beings can understand, the whole situation and posted them online. This point-by-point refutation of Invenergy’s claims can be seen at: http://www.clf.org/blog/clean-energy-climate-change/stop-invenergy-power-plant/.

The CLF site also has a way to send letters/emails to Governor Gina Raimondo, House Speaker Nick Mattiello and Senate President Teresa Paiva Weed asking them to tell Invenergy to hit the road and take their power plant with them. A note to Our Gina is the most important, since the state agency needed to OK the project, the R.I. Energy Facility Siting Board, is composed of three members, two of whom were appointed by the guv her own self. Not that P&J would for a second suggest that these two esteemed poodles, er, excuse us, people on the EFSB would say “How high?” when Our Gina told them to “Jump!”

Politically Incorrect or Just Willfully Insensitive?

Your superior correspondents imagine that we can thank Donald Trump for the recent uptick in people blurting out or “tweeting” stupid stuff. If you pay any attention to social media, we are certain that you have noticed this trend. A recent example was Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, during recent arguments on an affirmative action case in front of the court, blurting out from the bench that some black students might belong at “slower-track” universities. To be fair, Justice Scalia is not a newcomer to expressing thoughtless, insensitive opinions but, what the hell was he talking about? One would like to think that Scalia might have some appreciation of what the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s and ’70s achieved to improve opportunities (like voting rights and non-blatantly discriminatory state laws) for all citizens, but stuff like this leads one to believe that he doesn’t. Oh well, the clown circus continues …

Wrong Time, Wrong Place

It never works well when advertising finagles its way into real life, a point being made daily on websites and in apps that provide real news as well as consumer come-ons.

The U.K.’s Private Eye magazine has been pointing that out of late in its “Malgorithms” and “Just Fancy That!” briefs, the latest outstanding example of which was in the November 27 issue:

Guardian (English newspaper website): “Molenbeek: the Brussels borough becoming known as Europe’s jihadi central.”

Accompanying ad on app: “FT Weekend ‘Hidden Cities’: Discover Brussels’ best-kept secrets.”

Cough, a-hem! Yeah, just book right into that cute little B&B in Molenbeek.

In the US, the best example today of this sort of head-butting (pardon the pun…wait for it) juxtaposition can best be found in the ads for the upcoming Will Smith film, Concussion (there you go), which examines the horribly high incidence of brain damage in players who play professional football inflicted through multiple concussions. These spots have been running regularly during telecasts of NFL football games. Since the NFL supposedly comes out of the film with a real black eye for sweeping the issue under the Astroturf for years, the trailer for the film must have NFL execs banging their own heads … on their executive suite desktops. Gee, sorry boys, but you earned it. Incidentally, the role of NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell in “Concussion” is played by Pee-Wee Herman. Or should be.

A Spirit for All Seasons

Phillipe and Jorge would like to wish all our readers — who we know to be faithful, intelligent, drop- dead beautiful/dashingly handsome, icons of style and, of course, cooler than a frozen Pernod and grapefruit — a Merry Christmas and a happy holiday season. That goes double for Motif publisher Mike Ryan, our long-suffering editor Emily Olson, and all the Motif staff who crank this rag out every two weeks.

Despite the enormous amount of good spirit and generosity we see displayed from everyone at this time of year, let P&J remind you to put a placeholder in for months down the line in 2016, when the shelves of local food banks aren’t overflowing and the fulsome coffers of non-profit social service agencies are being scraped down to a bare minimum. Contributions in April and September can almost be more valuable than the hefty assistance giving during this time of joy and good cheer, so have a thought for those folks who help hold our communities together after the Christmas trees come down and the New Year’s Eve celebrations end. Thanks. We love you, you’re beautiful, don’t ever change.

Phillipe & Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: Dancing Cop, House of Oversight and a Thanksgiving Trip

Another Vo Dilun Classic Tale

You all know that Phillipe & Jorge are eternally thankful to live in the Biggest Little because of its rich history and culture. Last week there was a story in GoLocalProv concerning the ongoing saga of “Tony, the Dancing Cop.” Tony Lepore (the Dancing Cop) is a former Providence police officer who began his dancing act in 1984 and was subsequently hired for the season between Thanksgiving and Christmas back in 1988 (when he was still an active member of the force) by former Mayor Vincent “The Bud-I” Cianci, to perform his dance routines at downtown Providence intersections. His act was a big hit with a certain segment of the population and has continued for many years (despite the fact that he was supposedly directing traffic in between the dance moves, but actually causing traffic jams). In October, Tony got embroiled in a bit of controversy. When a Providence police officer ordered a cup of coffee at a Dunkin Donuts on Atwells Avenue and found the message “#blacklivesmatter” scrawled on the coffee cup by a young employee, the officer took this as a threat of sorts and it became a media story. Tony also took umbrage at this and called for a national boycott of Dunkin Donuts (opening up a can of worms since Tony once did a TV commercial for the rival Honey Dew donut chain). Within 36 hours, Tony thought better of his boycott and rescinded his announcement. So. on Tuesday, November 24, Kate Nagle (Casa Diablo regular and news editor at GoLocal), filed a story about a meeting between Tony and the Providence public safety people. Tony was told that he would not be retained this holiday season due to the incident (it was deemed he was not a good representative of the police even though he’s not an active officer). Just to make this a total Vo Dilun thing, The Bud-I solicited phone-ins from Kate and Tony on his radio show on WPRO that day so they could all explain. Best part of the conversation? Buddy describing the classic moment when he, Tony and City Hall fixture Walter Miller would arrive in a automobile at Tony’s corner (now that’s entertainment!). Although Tony feels he has been treated badly (the finger of blame seems to be pointing at Mayor Elorza), he promised that he would keep dancing at schools and public events and that he would “design his own police insignia patch” to wear on his generic uniform. Needless to say, your superior correspondents anxiously await the unveiling of this new design.

House of Oversight(s) Committee

As the old saying goes, you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make a member of the House Oversight Committee think. Or something like that.

The House Oversight Committee, a.k.a. the “Out, Damned Spot!” Committee, continues to provide more yucks than Phillipe and Jorge could wish for as it pretends to look into circumstances surrounding the passage of the legislation that allowed a $75 million dollar loan to Curt “Bloody Sock” Schilling’s farcical 38 Studios, for which Little Rhody taxpayers are on the hook after Schilling’s naïve foray into the world of video games went under faster than the Titanic. (Never mind that current House Speaker Nick “Sgt. Schultz” Mattiello was House Majority Leader at the time, and some members of the committee voted to approve the legislation. We’re looking for answers, goddammit! As long as we don’t look in any mirrors.)

Sgt. Schultz and his handpicked committee chairwoman, Lady Macbeth (Rep. Karen MacBeth), have been demonstratively slapping their riding crops alongside their thighs in a show of force lately, trying to get Mr. Schilling to appear before the committee and bare his soul to no avail.

Now the Out, Damned Spot! Committee has reared up on its hind legs and issued a mighty subpoena to bring in the alleged culprit. Wow! Bow-wow. Because after Mattiello and Lady Macbeth signed the subpoena and issued it, the committee’s lawyer advised them that under Massachusetts law, where Schilling resides, the 38 Studios frontman would reportedly “probably not be required” to respond to it. In legal terms, that means he can say “Nice try, you morons. Kiss my ass.” Well, back to the drawing board, eh kids?

Now the committee is left with the option of trying to nab Schilling in a way that is worthy of Maxwell Smart. Curt’s daughter attends Salve Regina University in Newport and pitches on the Salve softball team, of which her father is quite proud. So may P&J suggest that Mattiello and Lady Macbeth dress up like Boris Badenov and Natasha Fatale and hide in the stands at a Salve softball game this spring to ambush Schilling and serve the subpoena when he shows up to watch his darling daughter play? Although guessing from the committee’s shrewd strategic work thus far, they probably wouldn’t think to ask the big guy wearing the gorilla suit three rows in front of them to remove the head of his costume. He’s a clever one, Holmes.

Come on down!

As is our wont in recent years, Phillipe and Jorge take an annual trek to sunny Palm Beach right around Thanksgiving. Luckily for your superior correspondents, this year’s excursion coincided nicely with the wedding of official Hollywood/Burbank mannequin celebs Joe Manganiello (of the idiotic Magic Mike and “True Blood” fame) and Sofia Vergara (of TV’s unwatchable “Modern Family” and straight-to-DVD films like “Machete Kills”). But boy, do they look good in half-naked Photoshopped publicity stills.

Naturally, P&J were on the invite list, a must for this event, since the site of the wedding was The Breakers Resort in Palm Beach, which was under a “security lockdown” for the event. Rather than not let people get in without the proper credentials and vetting, the lockdown was most likely initiated by the old money billionaires of Palm Beach to keep the Left Coast Philistines out, as the only way either of these two would be allowed into the palatial estates surrounding The Breakers would be if they were in a housemaid’s uniform or on the business end of a leaf-blower.

The Breakers, decked out for the festivities in a manner that would embarrass a drag queen at a Rio de Janeiro Carnival, is favored by the denizens of Kardashian World for hosting weddings of arriviste vulgarians, which P&J can back up by citing the fact that the loathsome Donald Trump once married one of his Eastern European mail order brides on the grounds.

P&J mingled with our usual charm and social graces at the affair, which ended a bit abruptly for our taste, especially as we still had a few unopened bottles of Dom Perignon left on our table. The hasty retreat from the reception was precipitated by a quite tired and emotional Jorge tearing off his tuxedo shirt and bow tie and leaping onto a tabletop, where he proceeded to act out Manganiello’s dancing routine as a male stripper in Magic Mike. This heartfelt tribute to Big Joe may have been considered acceptable had J not chosen to have an enormous temporary tattoo of “Magic Mike” star Channing Tatum painted onto his chest in the wee hours the night before at a Palm Beach waterfront bar at the squealing provocation of a bunch of Eurotrash young adults. As it was, P&J were whisked quickly out of the ballroom and through the fortress-like front gates, although P could tell from the sly and amused looks of many of the guests that J’s performance had impressed more than a few of the celebrants.

Switching gears effortlessly, while in Florida, P&J are always pleased when a bit of New England culture rears its refined head down South. So it was on another evening when P was forced while out shopping to break into a Chuck Berry duck walk through the golf section of a Dick’s Sporting Goods in Palm Beach when, quite inexplicably, “Roadrunner” by Boston’s legendary Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers began blaring over the store’s sound system (“I’m in love with modern moonlight, 128 when it’s dark outside, I’m in love with Massachusetts, I’m in love with the radio on…Roadrunner, Roadrunner…I’ve got the world, got the turnpike, got the power of the AM…radio on! Got the radio on!” Oh, yeeaah!)

Surprisingly, no one else seemed to share in or emulate Phillipe’s ecstatic response to an old Casa Diablo favorite, but fortunately by the time security had been summoned and subsequently arrived in force, the song had ended and P managed to slip unnoticed into a large crowd surrounding a display of bright orange golf shorts festooned with blue alligators in tribute to the University of Florida and its signature “’gators.”

Thank you, Joe and Sofia, and you, Jonathan and the boys. We always love recounting the highlights of our trips. Come on down! Phillipe & Jorge’s Cool, Cool World:

Thanks for Everything

Yes, one of P&J’s favorite holidays, Thanksgiving, is nearly upon us. We at Casa Diablo are very grateful for the abundance of topics available to dubious columnists such as ourselves here in the Biggest Little.

The General Assembly is, of course, a treasure trove of material that we are thankful for, kind of like the “scratch and dent” outlet of state governance, with the oiliest sales reps outside of a fly-by-night used car dealership.

With a presidential election coming up next year, P&J are thankful for and indebted to all the amazing Republican candidates who have tossed their hats, diapers and comb-overs into the ring. Donald Trump alone is like a gift from above, with the delusional Bobbsey Twins of Ben Carson and Carly Fiorina providing their own jaw-dropping antics.

We are very thankful that we are not “dead broke” like Hillary Clinton (we are sending her out-at-the- elbows family a Thanksgiving turkey to help them to get through the holidays), and that we have not been turned into robots like the Democratic presidential frontrunner, although if the Democratic National Committee could find a way have the Svedka vodka cyborg stand in for Hillary at her public appearances it would be a step in the right direction.

P&J are thankful that we have never been the beneficiaries of “white privilege,” as we have been informed by House Speaker Nick “Sgt. Schultz” Mattiello that the concept does not exist, much like the fairy tale “Mafia.”

We are thankful that the Raimondo administration doesn’t worry about the environment or enforcement of laws to protect our natural resources, which we realize are just pesky impediments to economic development and business growth. Holding court at Sand Hill Cove in the summer does not automatically turn Ms. Wall Street into a nature lover.

P&J are also thankful that we no longer need to worry about personal privacy, as any time we forget our computer passwords or can’t remember who we need to call back or forget where we like to shop or what kind of music we enjoy, a simple call to the NSA, FBI or CIA can provide that information in a black ops minute.

On a more serious note, thank you to all the artists in our state, for making our part of the world a better place and giving us something upbeat to write about … for a welcome change.

Journalism 101

With attacks on the “liberal media” now being in fashion among the GOP candidates for president because journalists dare point out that certain candidates’ resumes are full of more lies than a Tinder profile, there are some aspects of the ink-stained wretches’ modus operandi that do need further examination. (But we are wholly in the majority who believe the CNBC moderator and panel of the recent GOP presidential debate should be burned at the stake, with their press passes used to stoke the fire.) Like many other journalistic titans, Phillipe and Jorge would like to assure our discerning and beloved readers that all the information contained in this column has come either from our direct knowledge of the events, or someone who “spoke on condition of anonymity because he/she was not authorized to talk to the media.” Can’t be much more ironclad truth than the latter, right, boys and girls?

Now some of you may ponder the question that if the person who is not authorized by his bosses to speak to the media, why is he doing so, and does he really know what he’s talking about? Say, for instance, some bloke who has just become your newest close personal friend after your fifth round of Patron and PBR boilermakers at a local bar, or perhaps a chap who works for the subject of the news investigation and is providing disinformation to reporters to serve his boss without being identified? But hey, if that kind of sourcing is good enough for the New York Times and Associated Press (which it is), it should be good enough for P&J and any other ignorant members of the public (and they are legion) who choose to believe it.

Some may say that this is lazy, sleazy and irresponsible journalism, to which P&J reply, “Hey, it’s our job to provide that, get off our turf, you Pulitzer-chasing whores.” But since now there appear to be many more sources who are not authorized to speak to the media than those who are, why not run with the insider info despite the fact you have no chance of making them responsible for backing up their input with verifiable truthiness? Hold your heads high, “mainstream media,” those are some tough ethical guidelines, used by such high-minded and squeaky-clean groups such as the Kardashians (we cry for you, Lamar) and the Hillary Clinton campaign.

At least Fox News — and the Pentagon, for that matter — just make up “facts,” nakedly lie and make no bones about it.

RIP, Glenn Kuzirian

This past week, an obituary and fond remembrance appeared in the BlowJo for Glenn Kuzirian. Glenn passed away on October 25 at age 64 and was a much loved person around the Providence area. Along with Chuck Doris, Glenn performed for 38 years as the popular nightclub band, Second Avenue. He also worked for many years at the William Hall Library in Edgewood.

For many years, he would hang out and hold court on Hope Street, near the Rue de L’Espoir on the East Side of Providence, accompanied by his beloved dog, Rhea. Glenn was intelligent, well-read, kind, funny and cantankerous — a very special person with many friends. Your superior correspondents knew him for decades and will miss him. Funeral services are private, but his many friends should know that there is to be a party to celebrate his life with the details to be posted on Facebook.

The Man with the Golden Nikon

It is rare when you see a compelling photograph in a newspaper and you know from looking at it who took the shot before you even look at the photo credit.

Such was the case with Phillipe and Jorge’s old friend Bob Thayer, The Other Paper’s ace photog who passed away unexpectedly just recently. More than once P&J’s eyes would be drawn to a shot in the paper, and know that Bob had given us a wonderful glimpse of Little Rhody at its best, which would be confirmed by the attached credit.

P&J were always happy to see Bob on duty at a press event we were involved in, knowing that he’d capture exactly the tenor of the event, as well as a visual depiction of what the key elements were. And chances are he would have a scene catch his eye, pull his car off the road on his way back to the office and find a visual slice of the Biggest Little that would pop up in print elsewhere on another day. (And if you read The Other Paper, you have doubtless seen and probably admired his skill.) Bob won national and international awards. He was as good as they come behind a camera, and will be missed professionally, and more importantly, personally.