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 Within 36 hours, Tony thought better of his boycott and rescinded his announcement.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.

Phillipe and Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: 38 Studios, Medieval Torture, and RI Mourns

“Out, Damn Spot!” Continued

Rhode Island’s House Oversight Committee’s resumed investigation into the 38 Studios scandal is drawing much more attention than P&J ever hoped. HOC hearings formally began in 2013, discovered essentially bupkus through 2014, then decided to take a Dubya Bush Crawford Ranch vacation until recently, with the first hearing held on October 27. The “new, improved” HOC is being chaired by Lady Macbeth (committee chair Rep. Karen MacBeth) whose charge will be to wash the hands of her legislative body of any stain that may exist from their complicity in passing the bill that led to 38 Studios getting a $75 million loan from the state. This was the equivalent of betting the house on a high school football team versus the N.E. Patriots.

Why will “Out, damn spot!” be Lady Macbeth’s HOC motto? Because she was appointed to the position by House Speaker Nick “Sgt. Schultz” Mattiello, who happened to be the House Majority Leader when Messrs. Fox, Costantino, Schilling, and players to be named later swung their backroom deal. And we fancy Sgt. Schultz may be fearful that if pressed, his “I know noss-sink!” claim may not stand up. If the House Majority Leader was not informed of this legislative swindle as it was going down by his Speaker and top-level pals, they 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.

Lady Macbeth is now throwing around threats of subpoenas, which may yield nothing more than the bucketfuls of Fifth Amendment pleas that have already been taken, and is now pressing Governor Raimondo to initiate an independent investigation, to which Sgt. Schultz seems averse. But Our Gina has been waiting for the state police investigation, which is underway, despite the fact they refuse to say if they will even issue a report in the foreseeable future. Fortunately, Our Gina has shown some fortitude and called out State Police head honcho Col. Steven O’Donnell and demanded he and his troopers get on the stick.

This foot-dragging and stonewalling, and Sgt. Schultz looking over Lady Macbeth’s shoulder like a Rhode Island version of NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell hand-managing the Tom Brady/Deflategate fiasco, does not hold the promise of any of the truly guilty parties at 38 Studios being prosecuted. Say hi, Wall Street criminals who caused the national economic collapse enjoying their annual bonuses and sipping martinis in their multi-million dollar enclaves!

The most humorous “investigative” action, if you can find a laugh anywhere in this cesspool, is the report that Lady Macbeth showed her determination to really get to the bottom of things by announcing she sent a Facebook message to Curt Schilling asking him to come forward and spill the beans to the committee. Facebook?!? How utterly professional. Bet that scared him. No doubt the next message to Mr. Bloody Sock will be sterner — a text using only emojis. With this knowledge, P&J wonder if Lady Macbeth could successfully run a bake sale, never mind an investigation into a web of corruption and scandal that has given Little Rhody yet another national black eye and cost taxpayers millions.

Loosen Up, Gina

An interesting story from the always reliable Kate Nagle at GoLocalProv about newly appointed Rhode Island Commerce Corporation member, Vanessa Toledo-Vickers. The announcement, put out by the governor’s office (aka Gina Central), failed to note that Toledo-Vickers owns Manchester 65 in West Warwick. Now why would the governor’s office fail to disclose that one of their appointees was the owner of a successful, legal business when Toledo-Vickers publically lists her ownership on her LinkedIn profile?

Speculation at GoLocal is that the administration may feel that Manchester 65’s regular sponsorship of such family events as “Kinkyoke” and the recent “Kink Arthur’s Faire,” might not reflect well on the image Gina is trying to project; however, the club is booked and managed not by Ms. Toledo-Vickers, but by her cantankerous husband, Jim. Over at Casa Diablo, we regret that we missed the event featuring (according to the advertising) “a medieval rack with a stockade spanking station” where people can get their “asses spanked.” Of course, your superior correspondents’ domesticated donkeys are not in need of this sort of discipline. A recently scheduled performance at the club by a rapper known as “Chief Keef” has also been the source of some controversy. Chicago, Illinois, and Hammond, Iowa, banned the rapper on the grounds that his music “promotes violence and poses a significant public safety risk.”

After a week of this being kicked around in the media and on talk radio, Gina announced that Ms. Toledo-Vickers will remain on the Commerce Corporation, which is absolutely right. Your superior correspondents completely support allegedly “kinky” activities by consenting adults. No big deal. Man of Granite Update

Dozens wept on Friday, October 23, when former Vo Dilun Governor, Linc Chafee, announced that he was pulling out of the Democratic Presidential race. The Man of Granite has apparently deemed his under 1% showing in recent polls to be badly undermining enthusiasm for his candidacy. On a positive note, however, was former RI First Lady Stephanie Chafee’s recent Facebook post trying to locate the owner of a wallet she and Linc found at the Washington, DC, airport. How many other candidates (or their spouses) would go to such lengths to help a fellow citizen? Not many, we suspect. So, best wishes to Linc and Stephanie. They are good people.

Princes of Rhode Island

The Biggest Little lost two fine men recently, with the passing of writer and teacher Bob Leuci, and the legendary restaurateur George Germon, the non pareil “renaissance man,” both of whom P&J regarded as friends.

Leuci, most recently a writing professor at URI, was the model for the protagonist of the book and movie, Prince of the City, portrayed on the silver screen by Treat Williams. He worked as a New York City Police Department undercover officer who exposed corruption rampant in the NYPD in the late 1960s and early ‘70s. It took brass balls and an extremely clean conscience — both fairly thin on the ground anywhere, both then and now. For that, he had our everlasting respect. And we’ll buy you a cold one in absentia at the Twillows, Bob. Germon was one half of the couple known almost always as the single word “Georgeandjohanne,” with his wife, Johanne Killeen. They created and founded the now internationally famed eatery Al Forno, which was the catalyst for Little Rhody’s reputation as having one of the finest restaurant scenes in the country. George was a chef (who with Johanne invented the grilled pizza for all practical purposes), sculptor and just plain solid good guy, always upbeat and forever moving upward and onward. Our deepest sympathies to Johanne, and hopes that the tremendous outpouring of kind words about George comforts her.

Quote of the Week

A comment with a telling message from the November 2 issue of Sports Illustrated in an article about the Rugby World Cup in England. In the article, an Englishman comforts an American about the U.S. team being way over their heads in the sport at this level, saying that US rugby will doubtless improve over the next 20 years. “It’s not the rugby that makes your country a laughingstock,” says the Brit. “It’s the guns.”

Always nice to hear what the rest of the world thinks about you. Phillipe and Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: 38 Studios, Political Shuffle, and Barbara Meek

They’re All Guilty

Since the release of virtually all of the behind-the-scenes documents, emails and depositions involved in the making of the 38 Studios scandal (bless you, Judge Michael Silverstein), we have seen more backpedalling than a unicycle parade and more lying than in Tinder profiles.

Perhaps the biggest benefit of having the documents released is that while residents of The Biggest Little generally knew their government was corrupt, they get to see just how the game is played, always behind closed doors at the State House, lawyers’ offices and fine local restaurants. Anyone who has ever had to do business at Halitosis Hall knows how the House and Senate leadership and their committee chairs keep a stranglehold on the short hairs of the legislature, with power brokers drifting in and out of the fourth floor offices where the real business gets done, barely managing to keep from laughing at the riff-raff who think they have any voice in the ultimate decision-making.

While at least one culprit in the 38 Studios screwing of the public (that would be you and us, dahlings), disgraced former House Speaker Gordon Fox, is now in prison (comically for charges that had nothing to do with 38 Studios, if that doesn’t tell you the scenario of ubiquitous abuse of power), it wouldn’t hurt if a few more self-important people on Smith Hill followed in getting their just desserts.

Chief among them are current Speaker Nick “Sgt. Schultz” Mattiello, who despite being house majority leader at the time, now says in desperation, “I know noss-sink! I see noss-sink!” Senate President Teresa Paiva Weed, who held her same position during the scandal, also claims to be oblivious, and not very convincingly. If you believe from their lofty perches those two didn’t know (and would have demanded to know) every little detail about a bill targeting $125 million to local businesses you were indeed born this morning. (And Mattiello’s laughable House Oversight Committee investigation, with half the members of the team having voted for the 38 Studios bill, including Rep. Lady Macbeth who is leading it, is guaranteed to produce an ass-covering whitewash. Out, damned spot!)

The one culprit you should really keep an eye on is Steven Costantino, who is trying to slink away into the shadows regarding his involvement. Costantino, to put it nicely, is an arrogant punk, and headed the House Finance Committee in 2010 when the deal went down, a position he used to play political god in cahoots with his bosom buddy Fox. He now claims he was just being a good German and following the orders of his “superiors.” But as Kathy “Faster, Pussycat, Kill, Kill” Gregg reported in The Urinal, “The (released) documents reveal that it was Costantino who, unbeknownst to most of his colleagues, recommended that the (economic loan program in the legislation then before House Finance) be bumped up from $50 million to $125 million to induce Schilling and his co-investors to move his fledgling company, 38 Studios, from Maynard, Mass. to Rhode Island. Guess Stevie just plucked that $75 million figure out of the air, right boys and girls? What promises to 38 Studios? Never heard of it. (Honk!) Costantino got a plum state job (sur-prahz, sur-prahz, Gomer!) when he left the House as secretary of the Health and Human Services Department, and has since moved on to become Vermont’s Health Access Commissioner. But there would be nothing that would please P&J more than to see this oily little weasel perp-walked from Montpelier to the ACI in the near future after one of his rats-off-a-sinking-ship former colleagues rolls him to save their own skin.

As P&J always say, ‘They’re all guilty.”

The Speaker’s Gotta Speak

The U.S. House of Representatives was thrown into chaos this week as the leading candidate for speaker of the house, Majority Leader Kevin McCarthy, suddenly announced that he was pulling his name from consideration. This could be the result of McCarthy’s sudden realization that the speaker of the house may have to speak — a proposition that he has some trouble with. A few recent quotes here from McCarthy illustrate the point: “We must engage this war of radical Islam if our life depended on it.” “This safe zone would create a stem a flow of refugees. …” “Unlike during the surge in Iraq when Petraeus and Crocker had an effective politically strategy to match the military strategy. …” “We have isolated Israel, while bolding places like Iran. …” “The absence of leadership over the past six years has had a horrific consequences all across the globe,” and, most astutely, “In the past few years alone, I have visited Poland, Hungria, Estonia, Russia and Georgia.” The people of “Hungria” were said to have breathed a sigh of relief.

The alternative explanation for McCarthy’s move could be that, after noting that the Benghazi Committee that he presides over was created to “drive down Hillary Clinton’s poll numbers,” he blurted out a couple of days later, “I do not intend to imply in any way that the work of the Benghazi Committee was political.”

(Your superior correspondents attempted to reach former U.S. Representative from RI, Patrick Kennedy, to see if, in the past, he had supplied McCarthy with medication, but we were unsuccessful in reaching him.)

Mr. McCarthy seems to make a good point about the “absence of leadership,” but looking at the other legislators who have expressed interest in the speaker’s post does not exactly fill us with hope that appropriate leadership is on the horizon. Sleep tight, America (not to be confused with Hungria).

Th-th-th-that’s Wrong, Folks!

P&J thank all gods that America’s organ of record, The New York Times, is eternally vigilant about getting their facts right. (Although P&J still aren’t sure about how they missed that Tom Brady-Gisele Bundchen break-up shocker, where we are still waiting for the other fashionable high heel or Ugg to drop to prove it correct.)

In the September 20 edition of the Times, the Gray Lady of 42nd Street bravely admitted a mistake in their reporting that we believe could have had a serious impact on currently chilly U.S.-Russia relations. To wit:

“A news analysis last Sunday misstated the name of a cartoon character displayed at a Moscow diner. He is Porky Pig, not Porky the Pig.” Or Putin the Pig, for that matter.

Barbara Meek

In Our Little Towne, all those folks who have spent their lives working in the arts knows everyone else who works in the arts so, it wasn’t a great surprise one day about 20 years ago when Jorge got a call from Barbara Meek who asked Jorge if he could help out with an ACLU initiative that she was working on. Of course, Jorge readily agreed.

Barbara Meek had a regal voice and perfect diction. She was a great and inspiring actress, first in a line of gifted African-American women actresses at Trinity Rep (Rose Weaver, Viola Davis). But, more than that, she was a kind and generous human being who deeply touched everyone she met with her joy for life. Barbara passed away, unexpectedly, on October 3. She was still acting up to the very end, with a role in Trinity’s current production of Julius Caesar. All of Vo Dilun mourns the passing of this great woman, as do Phillipe & Jorge. Rest in peace, Barbara.

Phillipe and Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: The Pope’s Visit, Baseball Shuffle, 38 Studios and Johnny Ray

Frankie Goes to ‘Murica

With immigration taking a front seat in the GOP presidential debates, P&J were surprised at the lack of reaction to a Hispanic named Jorge Mario Bergoglio slipping into the U.S. last week with a posse of dozens of foreigners, many disguised as women in oversized robes. Where’s that damn wall, Trump?

Oh, OK, it was just Pope Francis and his entourage, so I guess we can make some exceptions, given that he now has a European address and isn’t Syrian.

Phillipe and Jorge won’t try to delve deeply into Pope Frankie’s visit since it has been running live and on daily reruns on every TV show and network from Access Hollywood to Al Jazeera. But while we watched live as he made his way to the altar at St. Patrick’s Cathedral glad-handing the guests, we pricked up our ears when the TV reporter said, “And the Pope just greeted Henry Kissinger in the second row.” Pardon? Henry Kissinger? We didn’t realize that Herr Doktor K was a communicant at St. Patrick’s or that they had reserved a section for Jewish war criminals.

Which brings us to the rub about Frankie’s visit. While P&J have admired the new Pope’s seeming independence and enlightened approach to his job in the ruby slippers, the Catholic church remains the world’s largest corporation, which quite obviously is not above selling box seats, excuse us, pews, to his appearances in places like one of the most famous churches in the universe. And while Frankie’s easing up on the reins a bit or taking on extra-religious issues like the need for climate change (muffled applause from the grave of Galileo Galilei), the Catholic church remains a misogynistic artifact of the past, replete with unpunished pedophiles and bishops evidently too big to excommunicate, and that despite Frankie’s pleas to address poverty, the church is still just a gigantic male-dominated money machine, quietly demanding its entitled tithe from the rich and letting its decisions and access be guided by it.

Going, Going, Gone

In the last two weeks news comes that two figures from the baseball world near and dear to Phillipe and Jorge’s hearts will sadly be with us no longer. One was a national treasure, the other a largely unsung local hero.

The more famous of the two, Yogi Berra, slipped this mortal coil on September 22 at age 90. Younger generations may know of his public popularity only as the name inspiration for the cartoon character Yogi Bear. But he was in fact one of the best players in baseball history (especially in the clutch), a three-time American League MVP, winner of 10 World Series titles with the New York Yankees, and an All Star from 1948 to 1962. To put it in perspective, from when before P&J were born to when we saw him hit home runs in person at Yankee Stadium.

Stories of Yogi’s peculiar view of the world also made him famous, with such P&J fave lines about Toots Shor’s notorious NYC bar/restaurant, a longtime Yankee players’ hangout, “Nobody goes there anymore, it’s too crowded,” and when ordering a pizza and asked if he wanted his pie cut into 12 slices said, “No, make it eight. I can’t eat 12.”

But as we bid him adieu, we recall the valuable information offered up on the website for his Yogi Berra Museum and Learning Center on the campus of Montclair State College in New Jersey: “We’re open ‘til we close.” Thanks for the memories, Mr. Berra.

The second man has fortunately moved on to greener pastures here on earth.

Unless you are a baseball fan, and almost assuredly a Vo Dilun’der, you have probably never heard of Lou Schwechheimer. But Lou was one of the Tinkers-to-Evers-to-Chance front office trio of the Little Rhody field of dreams, along with Ben Mondor and Mike Tamburro, who turned around the Pawtucket Red Sox and made it one of the best franchises in minor league baseball. From virtual oblivion, the PawSox have become near and dear to residents of the Biggest Little and elsewhere, as the huge public outcry about moving the team has demonstrated.

Quietly, like everything else he does, Lou recently announced he’s leaving his position as PawSox vice president and general manager for other ventures, most likely still within baseball at some level. Like the owner he worked for, the late Mondor, and his equally admirable and respected partner in success, team CEO Tamburro, Lou was one of the nicest, generous, most talented and intelligent men you’ll ever meet. He was twice International League Executive of the Year, and while with the PawSox, the team won two Baseball America awards for excellence in minor league baseball operations.

He also, for some God-only-knows reason, treated Phillipe and Jorge like kings. He once asked Jorge to sing the national anthem before a PawSox game, and on another occasion, asked Phillipe to throw out the opening ball on a Memorial Day long ago, but only after agreeing to warm P. up in a game of catch under the stands before he took the mound. And like everything Lou did, it was with a smile on his face. The only positive thing we can say about Lou’s leaving is that we won’t have to type his ridiculous name again, invariably getting it wrong at the first attempt. We love you, Mr. Schwechheimer, and so do thousands of others who have experienced baseball at McCoy Stadium, whether or not they knew that grinning guy in the parking lot shaking their hands and thanking them for coming. A class act through and through.

Th-th-th-that’s wrong, folks!

Thank all gods that America’s organ of record, the New York Times, is eternally vigilant about getting their facts right. (Although P&J still aren’t sure about how they missed that Tom Brady-Gisele Bundchen break-up shocker.)

In the September 20 edition of the Times, the Gray Lady of 42nd Street bravely admitted a mistake in their reporting that we believe could have had a serious impact on currently chilly U.S.-Russia relations. To wit:

“A news analysis last Sunday misstated the name of a cartoon character displayed at a Moscow diner. He is Porky Pig, not Porky the Pig.”

We can now all sleep soundly once again.

Home to Roost

Now that the information on 38 Studios has been released and is being pored over by all the major media in the Biggest Little, one thing has become abundantly clear: Vo Dilun leads the league in funding bad investments/businesses. Meetings to bail out the (nearly bankrupt at that time) 38 Studios began a year earlier than was originally reported. No one is surprised to hear that. “In on it” from the beginning were the currently imprisoned Gordo the Fox, Michael Corso and the mysterious Zaccagnino. It also appears that Corso may have received money from the state for his failed restaurant on Westminster Street, Tazza. What a mess! What an embarrassment! What a disgrace! Stuffing all that cash in a bloody sock was a pretty stupid idea from the get go. More Tears

Like they say about cops and reporters, you’ve got to make jokes about some of this stuff or you’ll end up crying all the time. Inspired by more horror overseas is this, the worst pickup line ever: “Didn’t I meet you at the Hajj Stampede?” But occasionally, all the tears end up with a good result. Apparently Speaker of the US House of Representatives, “Johnny Ray” Boehner, has announced that he will retire at the end of October. Johnny Ray really opened up the faucets last week when he met the Pope. A parting gift to the American people. As P&J fight back our own tears, we pause to pour another Pernod & grapefruit.

Kudos and Congrats

With all the big news going on this past week, P&J don’t want to forget the fine reports in GoLocalProv by the talented, lovely and all-around brilliant news editor, Kate Nagle, on the demise of yet another RI- based company, NABsys. This seems to be one of those stories that we will hear more about and, after dining with Ms. Nagle last week, we know that she’s on it like a tiger. For some unknown reason, Ms. Nagle is the only one on this story and it’s an important one. Phillipe and Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: Something For the ‘Utes, Right Wing Pledge and Billary

A ‘Utes Guide to P&J

Phillipe and Jorge have learned that some of our discerning and loyal younger readers are somewhat vague about the origins of the column and references within same to such places as Casa Diablo. (Which is understandable, given the fact that many weren’t even born when the column came out of P&J’s typewriters and the closet in its Little Rhody debut in 1980.) So here’s a quick primer for today’s ‘utes.

The idea for the column was born in the backroom of the late, legendary and lamented Leo’s bar on Chestnut Street in Providence, fueled by voluminous quantities of neck oil. It was inspired by Alexander Cockburn’s then “Press Clips” column in the Village Voice, R. Couri Hays’ flamboyant (as they say) gossip in the National Enquirer, and the satirical English satire magazine, Private Eye, which continues to take no prisoners in commenting upon politics, the media and society. It was called “Phillipe and Jorge” to indicate that actually two (Rudy Cheeks and Chip Young) great but deeply troubled minds were behind it.

Figuring that P&J would be a pair of professional wiseasses who planned to irritate almost everyone and anyone, the duo took on the personae of gay young men fond of Pernod and grapefruit cocktails, at a time when demonstrating “superior behavior” was generally and sadly a good way to get your ass kicked and harassed in “Our Little Towne,” i.e., Providence. P&J’s home is the Little Rhody Shangri-La of Casa Diablo, replete with the wild party site, the Boom-Boom Room, and a staff of exotic cabana boys, butlers and French maids (well, OK, young men dressed in French maids outfits, to be precise).

The column debuted in the now-defunct Providence Eagle 35 years ago, and has now appeared consecutively for three and a half decades in at least four other publications (including our beloved Motif), as well as having various diversions into TV and radio on the side. As it was the first column to publicly and loudly twit and embarrass political leaders and media bastions such as the mighty Providence Journal, P&J found our fulltime “real life” employers receiving phone calls by head honchos at The Urinal (ProJo) and the state house demanding that we be fired. (Fortunately, our bosses politely responded that what we did in our own time was none of their business, which to their credit was well-heard by the callers as a tacit, “Go fuck yourself if you can’t take a joke.”)

Perhaps one of our most popular features over the years was when Phillipe & Jorge created nicknames for public figures (former Governors Ed DiPrete and Bruce Sundlun were “The Gerber Babe” and “Captain Blowhard,” respectively, former House Speaker Joe DeAngelis was “The Prince of Darkness,” etc.). Some of these sobriquets were picked up by the rest of the media, some were not, but it certainly opened the door for others to try their hand at creating their own nicknames. Phillipe and Jorge won’t apologize for our weird and cryptic allusions to cult classic movies like Planet Nine from Outer Space (“That proves it,” in other words a totally ridiculous claim, being the iconic line) or entertainers like Esquerita, the Puerto Rican Little Richard, who made Mr. Penniman look restrained. We see them as learning moments, so just Google those up, children. P&J is meant to expose and celebrate both absurdity and stupidity, and here in Little Rhody we have the motherlode of both. We hope we continue to meet those expectations and warrant your support. That proves it, as it were.

The Little Rascals Right

One of the highlights of the GOP presidential candidates’ campaign has got to be the National Republican Committee’s genius idea for everyone in this parade of imbeciles to sign a pledge that they will not run for president as a third party candidate should they lose the Republican primary.

Sign a pledge? What is this, elementary school?!? It reminds Phillipe and Jorge of the level of thinking that has young boys building a fort with a big “No Gurlz Allowed!” sign on it. (Oh, that’s right, the GOP already has that Fortress of Ignorance and Misogyny built quite solidly.)

This is almost like a Little Rascals skit, with Spanky Trump, Alfalfa Bush, Buckwheat Carson and Darla Fiorina promising they would be friends “forever and ever until they died,” and fight the biggest bully in the neighborhood if they had to to protect another member of their special little tribe, and included a special secret pinky finger handshake that only they would use.

This blatantly idiotic and immature pledge idea seems to be a favorite of the right wing and their conservative style of brainwashing through public pronouncements. Grover Nordquist, the little twit who founded the Americans for Tax Reform, has bullied GOP candidates (read: threatened to withhold financial support) in the past by making them sign his “Taxpayer Protection Pledge,” saying they would not raise taxes if elected. And the religious right, to whom Republican candidates kowtow at the drop of a hat, have come up with any number of pledges and public commitments by youths to vow they would not have sex before they were married, including chastity rings, because abstinence is the only way to ensure safe sex. (Flawed results of that genius idea can be seen on MTV’s witheringly depressing and humiliating “Teen Mom” show.)

And what happens if you break the pledge? Well, listen mister, all the other candidates will point at you and flap their hands in the air while screeching, “He broke the pledge! He broke the pledge!” until they are blue in the face. Shaming someone into crying is obviously the ultimate goal for these morons. And if that’s the case, we suggest GOP House Speaker John Boehner be targeted.

The Wrong Argument

If you ever forget your password to any secure computer or account, you know what to do, correct? Call the FBI or NSA, because they have them all. Along with German Chancellor Angela Merkel’s.

Personal privacy has long since vanished, no matter who you are, which makes the uproar over Billary Clinton using a private server to conduct State Department business fairly disingenuous. There was doubtless nothing gleaned from her emails that the British, Israelis, Russians and Chinese don’t already know.

But the problem, as always, was her irritating and off-putting sense that she doesn’t need to play by the same rules that we all do. Her ongoing sense of scorn and entitlement that bubbles up in her face and body language anytime anyone dares challenge the Pantsuit Queen reveals an imperious view of the huddled masses. That is why she is such an unappealing campaigner and is almost begging to have someone challenge her mass media-stoked coronation as the Democratic nominee for 2016.

Speaking of Joe Biden, his recent performance on “The Late Show with Stephen Colbert” was touching and human (a trait the robotic Hillary might try to acquire), as he and Colbert talked about families and loss, and got into Biden’s relationship with Barack Obama as being #2 to a larger-than-life, more popular partner. What came out of it, to P&J’S mind, is that there is a vast difference between willingly taking a back seat to a larger personality to serve other people, and grudgingly doing so to serve yourself, assuming that it is just a price to pay before the royal cloak eventually becomes yours if you put in your time and keep your mouth shut.

We’ll let you figure out where Biden and Billary fit into those roles.

Phillipe and Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: I-195 Backdoor Dealings, Lessons from Trump, ecoRI Turns 6, and Mark Weiner Soothes a Bad Dream

Backdoor Curveball

As more and more people turn out to the public forums and discussions to oppose the Pawtucket Red Sox’ proposed Ben Dover Stadium in Providence, what is happening behind the scenes with the I-195 Redevelopment District Commission may warrant much more public — and official — scrutiny. It’s not a big stretch to see Our Gina’s administration looking at their own version of the notorious 38 Studios fiasco, abetted by the likes of House Speaker Nick Mattiello, who appears to be already in the tank for the Ben Dover deal.

First, we saw the seemingly innocuous resignation of the I-195 Commission’s executive director, Jan Brodie, on July 24. Ms. Brodie surprisingly offered no reasons for her departure. She was eminently qualified for the position and was enthusiastic about its potential, and the president of the Jewelry District Association, Arthur Salisbury, had just offered her a slot on his board, about which she was reportedly excited. Salisbury reacted to her abrupt announcement by telling The Other Paper, “That leaves me to believe that maybe this wasn’t her choice.” Hmmm.

Then on August 17, after a closed session that reportedly lasted only 45 minutes, the I-195 Commission announced it hired a new executive director, Peter McNally. OK, record speed for a government committee hiring, but alarm bells immediately began going off at Casa Diablo when Phillipe and Jorge read the details. First, McNally had been a colleague of I-195 Commission Chairman Joseph Azrack at a financial firm in the late 1990s, before going on to New York, and then retiring and moving to Providence in 2014. Fine. Birds of a feather.

Here’s where it starts to smell a bit fishy. The ad for the executive director was posted (unannounced?) only on the I-195 Commission website (which we assume really trends high on social media), hardly throwing out a huge national search net in the process, as former Governor Chafee did before eventually selecting Brodie. That involved an executive search firm and 200 applicants, with the short list being interviewed in private before Brodie was endorsed for the job. If this streamlined process was done for an unspoken reason, it certainly worked. As Azrack told The Other Paper, McNally was, “as far as (Azrack) know(s)” the only applicant (!?!?). Pardon? You mean if some homeless person applied for the job they had a 50-50 shot of getting it?

But wait, there’s more! Azrack was apparently steered to McNally by state Secretary of Commerce Stephan Pryor, who met him via Our Gina, whom McNally met through what was described as “acquaintances.” Guess we will have to change the venerable Vo Dilun line, “I know a guy,” to “I know an acquaintance of a guy.” We haven’t been told if McNally was even interviewed for the job by what we hope was at least a bare bones search committee, but if not, hey, you can get a good feel for someone applying for a major position with a phone call or email or text exchange, right?

Also revealed in the murky waters now surrounding the I-195 Commission is that Brodie was excluded from talks between I-195 execs and the new PawSox owners. P&J would say this was the tactic of, “Yeah, don’t let her know too much. She could be a problem down the road,” but that would be blatantly unfair to Mr. Azrack, who was handling the major interactions for the commission. Wouldn’t it?

P&J’s finely honed, jaded, cynical minds (a requisite for covering politics in Little Rhody) might suggest that Brodie was expressly not on board for Ben Dover Stadium, and was told to either walk the plank or jump overboard on her own. That allows for a certain pre-approved someone to fill her job, who might be less disruptive to plans already being put into action behind the scenes. But thinking like that would, of course, be wrong. So since it appears that no one is calling out the governor or Commissioner Azrack on this fast sleight of hand, might P&J suggest that both have some ’splainin’ to do to the citizens of Providence and the state?

Sleep tight, Mr. Schilling.

And speaking of Schilling …

Notes on Trump World Thanks to social media, we can all spew like Donald Trump. This, of course, has little to do with freeing oneself of political correctness, but more to do with having little or no regard for other people’s feelings or sensibilities and just blurting out one’s most primitive urges and thoughts. Yes, there is such a thing as political correctness, but the reactionary fringe has expanded the definition into the area of “anyone airing out the same biases and prejudices that I share is merely not going along with political correctness.” From P&J’s perspective, people like Trump are merely egocentric and narcissistic, and have no concern for the feelings of others. The part that is inestimably sad is that so many people seem to be cheering this on. Positive proof of IQ at the polls might nip this in the bud, but that wouldn’t be right. Oh, well. The thought that we can all be as sensitivity-free as Trump occurred to us when we saw a brief news story about legendary baseball sub-genius and Vo Dilun anti-hero Curt Schilling tweeting some nonsense comparing Muslims to Hitler. Perhaps he was just spitballing about his latest dream for a video game that (thankfully) no human will ever see. Who knows? Who would have thought 35 years ago that Phillipe & Jorge would seem to be one of the standards for common decency in the media?

Down to Zero

Mark September 16 on your calendar for the ecoRI News Zero Trash Birthday Bash from 6 – 9pm at Machines with Magnets gallery and performance space in Pa’tucket.

The event is a celebration of ecoRI News’ 6th birthday, which in short time and on limited budget has become the go-to source of environmental news in the region. And because – and repeat after us, children – Little Rhody’s environmental quality is inextricably linked with its economic health, that role is a vital one locally.

The celebration will feature a seasonal tasting menu prepared by Julians catering, live music and a silent auction, with food and libations galore. All guests get a free pint glass to refill and re-use in perpetuity. Everything at the celebration will be eaten, imbibed, recycled, reused or composted.

Tickets can be bought online at ECORI.ORG/BASH. Space is limited and advance ticket purchase is required, so move fast. And naturally (geddit?), P&J say be there or be square.

(Full disclosure: Phillipe is chairman of the board of directors of ecoRI News, and damn proud of it, its board members and the hardworking staff.)

And Bears Don’t Use Bathrooms

England’s Private Eye magazine (a long-ago inspiration for creating the Cool, Cool World) includes in its latest issue one of its newspaper “Corrections of the Year” from the August 11 edition of the Times of London:

“Karol Wojtyla was referred to in Saturday’s Credo as ‘the first non-Catholic pope for 450 years.’ This should, of course, have read ‘non-Italian.’ We apologise for the error.”

Surprisingly, the Times is not owned and operated by GateHouse Media.

Kudos & Congrats

… to longtime Democratic political operative, Mark Weiner. After reading about the senseless destruction at the imPossible Dream Playground in Warwick, Mark immediately drove to the site and offered to “take care of everything.” After executive director, Diane Florio Penza, told Mark what would be needed, he immediately wrote a check. Within days the playground reopened. So, here’s to Mark Weiner. He’s had some health issues in recent years, and his response was to emerge a kinder, gentler, more generous person than he was before. Good for you, Mark Weiner. Phillipe and Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: The Urinal, Alex & Ani, Deflategate and Jimmy Carter

Cramped Quarters

Behind the walls of The Urinal’s Fountain Street fortress, many changes as The Other Paper continues to shrink.

This time, instead of axing top reporters and columnists, it is more of a physical contraction. The state’s organ of record, which once boasted of staffing seven regional bureau offices around Little Rhody, as well as the five-story Fountain Street HQ, is now consolidating all its mighty power into only the second floor. Some might say combining the ad sales reps in with genuine journalists is long overdue, since the advertising side has been guiding content for years (say hi, movie section!).

It is yet unknown what businesses will be occupying the new available space, but we certainly hope it is highbrow stuff like massage parlors or telemarketers. And given the reputation and operating style of the newish owners of The Urinal, the New Media Investment Group/Gatehouse Media, it might be fitting to have similar operations move into the now vacant floors, like payday loan operations, phone sex lines or perhaps an ethically challenged, avaricious investing company that specializes in flipping and stripping companies to turn a quick buck with no regard to quality or client services. (Oops, sorry, that’s all now on the second floor … or in Texas.)

Might P&J suggest that in honoring the grand local tradition of the Providence Night School of Journalism, where local ink-stained wretches would learn the more subtle tools of their trade, and network and pump sources late into the night, that the bottom floor be turned into a barroom, perhaps named either Hope’s or Leo’s? We can almost guarantee that will be a financial success, especially given that its best customers will only be a quick trip down a flight of stairs away.

The Crystal Ship

The message of peace, love and crystal jewelry that will make you run faster and jump higher as preached by Alex and Ani evidently includes loving thy neighbor – or at least their possessions.

In sleepy Jamestown, an executive at Alex and Ani (which is attempting to annoyingly place its name on more buildings and venues than Alan Shawn Feinstein and Donald Trump combined) was arrested earlier this month for B&E and stealing two Jet Skis whilst commandeering a home that he didn’t own for a party where the revelers were served food and drink from the home’s own cache of provisions. Talk about a rude house guest.

Ryan J. Bonifacino, senior vice president digital at Alex and Ani, was evidently guided in this spiritual path by A&A’s magic charms, faux gems that evidently are not able to navigate Narragansett Bay. Because after Bonifacino evidently “borrowed” two Jet Skis from an unsuspecting neighbor to ride to Newport with three friends, they hit a rock in the Bay in the wee hours on their way home that seriously injured two of them. (P&J assume that the folks involved had only been drinking chamomile tea all night.)

The next time Mr. Bonifacino gets in the mood to party down and ride a Jet Ski at night, P&J suggest he slip on one of his company’s Unexpected Miracles Charm Bangles or a Guardian of Love Necklace to help, as A&A says, to “empower the light in you,” or at least provide enough of the company’s “enlightenment” to indicate where the rocks are out on the water at 3am.

And Alex and Ani may want to reconsider their ad pitch to “embark on unexpected journeys this fall” with their new products, as their boy Ryan seems to have covered the magical mystery tour angle already.

It’s Called “Proven Guilty”

As Deflategate goes on with seemingly no end in sight, we appear to be reaching closure (hate that word).

After an uneventful appearance before federal Judge Richard Berman in New York City on August 12, the NFL and NFL Players Association (read: Tom Brady) are due back in court on August 19, after this column has gone to bed. That is, provided no settlement is reached before that, which is unlikely, as both sides have their backs against the wall and are uncompromising in their positions.

The only bright light recently is that Judge Berman had the gall and audacity to ask the NFL if they have any hard evidence of Brady’s involvement in the whole Deflategate imbroglio other than “general awareness” of the alleged incident. You mean that Hizzoner is actually demanding that Tom Terrific is proven guilty, instead of relying on a slanted, in-house investigation that is so biased that it would make a Russian prosecutor blush? The loathsome and laughable NFL commissioner Roger Goodell couldn’t run a one-ticket raffle, and his belief in his imperious powers should explode in his face when a real officer of the court has him for those pesky little things known as facts. You can bet by now Judge Berman’s voicemail is full of numerous messages from every high-powered New York politician all the NFL owners save for Robert Kraft can lean on to get Brady convicted and save these arrogant bastards’ face. As they say on kids’ playgrounds everywhere, “Prove it!”

Losing One’s Grip

If you are like Phillipe and Jorge, which you should thank all gods you are not, your sole activities during the recent heat spells have been counting the number of sweat drops falling off your nose and breaking into meat lockers to find a place to sleep. That’s what happens when your cabana boys Artemus and Hidalgo refuse to continue fanning us with palm fronds poolside unless they are also supplied with numerous frozen Pernod and grapefruits.

So in a moment of insanity, Phillipe decided to go to Florida, an idea that cannot fit the definition of “stroke of genius.” And how hot was it, Johnny? It was so hot that P. evidently went mad in the even worse heat that turned the Gulf of Mexico into tepid bathwater, and took to the golf course for a relaxing 18 holes as scrub brush burst into flames around him. (Tip to golfers: Do not go into a Port-A- John on the course that has been standing out for hours in 98-degree heat unless you want the experience Alec Guinness had in the tin punishment box he occupied in Bridge on the River Kwai.)

Using clubs borrowed from a friend who had stored them in his garage all summer, when he removed his sand wedge from the bag on the 11th hole, he found that the rubber grip had almost completely melted, and he was left with a handful of molten rubber. P. returned to Our Little Towne immediately, with a much better appreciation of what hot is really all about; so suck it up, you whiners.

Turds of a Feather

It’s not that all the most objectionable politicians are Republicans (plenty of bad Democratic pols in these parts), but this week, the spotlight shines on a pair of real swinging geniuses from the GOP. Your superior correspondents have noticed a definite decline in “girls who just wanna have Fung,” since a report on his scheming and interference with his own police department revealed the Cranston mayor to be not just “less than perfect,” but less than a lot of things.

Among others, it is not believable that Mayor Fung first heard about “Ticketgate” weeks after hearing a media report. Both former Cranston police chief McGrath and former Cranston Mayor Michael Napolitano strongly dispute Fung’s claim that he “inherited” problems in the police department and his lame-ass “I’ll try to do better” response to his long series of dirty and pathetic schemes and moves revealed in the state police report is sort of like the Wizard of Oz screaming “Pay no attention to the man behind that curtain!” We suggest Al step down from office, take a long look at where he went wrong and maybe, after deep reflection, he’ll be able to return in another decade or so.

And then there’s the current leader in the polls amongst the Republican presidential contenders, Donald Trump. P&J wouldn’t have thought that the secret to success in running for president would be having the most bizarre hair-do in America, revealing absolutely no details on what policies one would be pursuing and delivering campaign speeches that seem more like stand-up routines (Pat Paulsen, we hardly knew ye).

We always thought that “humility” was some sort of virtue, but we are starting to rethink that over at Casa Diablo, The Donald has none and wants us all to know that those who disagree with him on almost any topic are either “losers” or buffoons. And, of course, he “cherishes” women by using the most old- school sexist language. But, that’s okay. He doesn’t believe in being “politically correct.” Somewhere there is a street where one can be thoughtful and respectful (nothing to do with “political correctness”) where people can be honest without denigrating others. Donald doesn’t know where that street is, but we’re betting it is not in a gated community.

Once again, Phillipe & Jorge remind you, sleep tight, America. Jimmy Carter

The recent revelation that the 39th President of the United States, James Earl Carter, has a serious and spreading cancer, reminds your superior correspondents that the judgement of history can be rather fluid. When he left office in 1981, his was seen as a largely “failed” presidency. Yes, we would agree that Jimmy Çarter will probably never be seen as one of the “great” presidents, but what we have seen in what he has done in his subsequent life and in reassessing the level of honesty and integrity that he brought to the office, he is a very good man. Jimmy Carter deserves our thanks for his love of country, steadfastness and courage. Our prayers and thoughts are with him. Phillipe & Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: Vote, Damn It, Signs of Football Season, Art and Presidents

A Cryin’ Shame

There is an old joke about asking someone for the definition of “ignorance and apathy,” to which the person curtly responds, “I don’t know and I don’t care.”

Well, you can apply that to more than half the eligible voters in RI, along with the observation that they are assholes who don’t recognize the gift of voting in a democracy where they can decide who their political leaders will be. Instead, we get what we pay for in the way of politicians, and you can judge for yourself how that is working out for The Biggest Little, with daily life at Halitosis Hall looking and exhibiting behavior like it was an annex of the Roger Williams Park Zoo.

In new numbers released by the U.S. Census Bureau, only 43.3% of the state’s eligible voters took part in the 2014 election, ranking Little Rhody 25th nationally. This is shameful and shows the ignorance and arrogance of a braindead electorate who can’t pull themselves away from their Cheetos and grape soda long enough to help determine their future. And who then bitch about it when the government or public officials screw them. “You no play-a the game, you no make-a the rules,” as the old line about the Pope pontificating about abortion used to go. (At least we can take comfort that more than half the mouth- breathing morons supporting Donald Trump will not vote because they will be either too drunk or too stupid to find a polling place.)

And in Vo Dilun, this self-inflicted travesty of justice is compounded by the number of politicians who run unopposed, giving a free pass to many — including members of the political leadership on Smith Hill — so that they are accountable to no one except themselves. What a terrific way to curb corruption, eh Gordon Fox, et al.?

Years ago, a colleague visited P&J from Indonesia, where after decades of living under a harsh dictatorial rule of what they called “KKN,” standing for “corruption, collusion and nepotism,” the people had just been allowed to vote, often literally risking their lives to do so. They turned out at about a 98% rate. When we told him that only half of America’s eligible voters took part in the last presidential election, he laughed. He thought we were joking with him. When informed that it was the truth, he pondered that fact for a moment and then started crying.

Welcome to America. Sissy.

Signage Challenge

Phillipe and Jorge don’t even want to get into the fact that any judge worth his or her robes should throw the NFL’s case for suspending Tom Brady out of court for insufficient evidence, as we believe saying someone was purportedly “generally aware” of a transgression doesn’t seem to jibe too well with being innocent “until proven guilty.” But we’ll leave that to the federal appeals case currently being made on Brady’s behalf by the NFL Players Association to have the suspension overturned. But P&J are not going to delve into the mess that the incompetent, overpaid and arrogant NFL commish Roger Goodell has made of Deflategate. The lily-livered Goodell already asked to have his Maine summer home put under police surveillance lest some of the playful local laddies wearing Patriots caps and replica jerseys decide to pull a harmless prank like spray-painting the shingles or burning it to the ground. But P&J are more interested in going Vegas on y’all with specialty bets on New England’s first home game at Gillette Stadium, a preseason contest versus the Green Bay Packers on August 13.

Since this falls on a Thursday night, it will get national TV attention, we are certain. So our first wager is the over/under on how many signs get smuggled into the stadium that when unfurled say, “F**k Goodell,” or its equivalent, which we will put at 1,000. The second is the number of those messages that manage to make it on camera, which we will set at 10. You can be sure the TV cameramen will be instructed with the cold steel of an NFL pistol at their temple not to show any banners or signs that target their half-assed leader. But we trust the Yankee ingenuity of the fans to find spots that must draw the camera’s eye during the game, such as behind the goal posts. We are counting on you, Pats fans. Even nine making the air before a sniper shoots out the TV camera lens would do the trick as far as we’re concerned.

Don’t Drink the Purell

The Associated Press exposed the fact that the waters off of Rio De Janeiro, where 2016 Olympic Games sailing and swimming events will take place, is a threat to human health because of viruses and bacteria from the human waste that pours untreated in the city’s coastal waters. This has has been the case for years on end, we might add, so no “Sur-prahz, sur-prahz, Gomer!” element for Olympic organizers there.

But the inspiring quote of the week comes from Dr. Richard Budgett, medical director for the International Olympic Committee — a group that rivaled soccer’s FIFA in the past for worldwide corruption and incompetence. His profound suggestion for the Olympic sailors who will get toxic spray into their eyes and mouths, and the swimmers who will be totally immersed in this vile open cesspool and no doubt swallowing a pint or twain when they compete? “Washing your hands is an extremely important part of reducing the risk of infection of any sort.” No problem! Bob’s your uncle!

So let’s scrub-a-dub-dub those hands, athletes, and we’re sure that the water in the Olympic Village will be equally clean … whether someone flushes or not.

Creative Capital News Providence calls itself the Creative Capital and there is much truth to this. The city (in fact, the entire state) is full of brilliant, enterprising artists (a fact that makes many of us who’ve been around for decades very optimistic about the future).

Since there is so much activity and so few venues to write about the visual arts scene, a lot of interesting developments are drawing very little notice. One such is Gallery EOSS at 91 Hartford Ave (Suite 105) in Providence that is run by Casa Diablo regular, Mark Goodkin. EOSS opened a few months ago, and Jorge has attended shows there and can attest to the quality of the work.

Mark tells your superior correspondents that, while there was an article in the Urinal by their longtime arts writer, Bill Van Siclen and another article on the gallery slated for Art New England‘s September issue, there has been little else. He wants people to know that, on August 20, EOSS will become part of Gallery Night and will remain so for the rest of the season. The current show, featuring paintings by Lara Ivanovic, will still be up and in September, there is what Mark says is “an exciting photography show” planned.

Crazier than Art Who would have predicted that in 2015, the world of politics would become crazier than the world of art? Well, maybe some of us. It doesn’t get any crazier than Donald Trump, he of the unearthly hairdo and unfiltered mouth, being the current front-runner in the Republican presidential race. On the other side, your superior correspondents are heartened by the grassroots campaign of Bernie Sanders. This is real grass roots and we attended a largely unpublicized rally for Sanders at Loui’s Restaurant on Brook St in Providence that magically packed the place (we suspect this is largely due to the magnetic power of the hostesses, TinkerLee and Sunny). Get informed and get involved. The next few months are going to be interesting, indeed.

Shameless Plug And, finally, this wouldn’t be a Cool, Cool World column without at least one shameless plug. Young Adults, rare public performance, Sunday, August 30, outdoors at Slater Mill in Pawtucket. It’s free.

Phillipe and Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: Chickens and a Fox with Sox

Chickening Out

With the big flap at Halitosis Hall this legislative session over chicken coops and the birds’ wingspans (OK, that is a horrible pun, but blame the hot weather), Phillipe and Jorge are reminded of a famous story by journalist, author and very funny guy Calvin Trillin.

In New York City’s Chinatown, there is (possibly now was) a live chicken in a glassed-in box. You’d feed in a dollar, and the chicken will play a game of tic-tac-toe against you by tapping the various squares inside as you make your own picks outside. (Phillipe and Jorge did this a number of times when we lived on Mott St in the Big Apple.) The chicken almost invariably wins, we’re sorry to say.

Trillin recounted how he would take visiting friends to Chinatown to play against the chicken just for shits and giggles. They, too, would join the long line of losers.

But what amused Trillin most were the excuses his defeated pals would offer up. They would plead after going down to the fowl, “I haven’t played tic-tac-toe in a long time. The chicken plays every day!” To which Calvin would reply, “But it’s a chicken!” Or, “Well, the chicken got to go first!” Trillin again: “But it’s a chicken!”

Maybe we should install a tic-tac-toe chicken box at the state house so our august lawmakers can finally see just how smart they are. “But the chicken knows a guy!” Public Service, Little Rhody-style

So sad to see disgraced former House Speaker and current criminal Gordon Fox drive off to spend three years at the government’s pleasure at a white collar penitentiary in Pennsylvania. Sob, sob, sniff, sniff. (Honk!)

But P&J found our quote of the week coming from Gordo’s husband, Marcus LaFond, as his beloved was heading off to the can. Surrounded by the ink-stained wretches and talking hairdos of the media, he implored them to back off, saying, “He (Fox) has given enough to the people of the state.” Yeah, Marcus, like a huge black eye and more fodder for folks across the country to look upon The Biggest Little as a corrupt tiny backwater where the motto “Lobsters and Mobsters” still reigns, and the criminal element can be found in every branch of state government. Gee, guess we forgot to thank you before you picked up your prison jumpsuit, Gordo.

What makes LaFond’s remark even more appalling is that some of the money Fox is accused of taking as bribes or looting from his campaign fund went to LaFond’s Providence hair salon, Imagine Hair, and to the couple’s daily lifestyle. Most likely LaFond was well aware of where the money for renovations at his barber shop and the auto and Tiffany purchases came from, which makes P&J wonder if Gordo might actually deserve a cellmate he is quite familiar with in his new digs.

Patronizing PawSox

Phillipe and Jorge don’t know exactly who is supposed to be doing the public relations for the new Pawtucket Red Sox ownership, but it appears to be the crack communications firm of Moe, Larry and Curly.

After the brazen announcement of plans to move the PawSox out of revered McCoy Stadium in Pawtucket to a gleaming new ballpark on the I-195 land in Providence (with considerable help expected from state and local taxpayers, thank you very much) the owners have displayed the deft touch of a drunk wearing oven mitts. (We were going to say a catcher’s mitt, but we promised to use no more cheap baseball allusions regarding the PawSox.)

After the initial plan was received by the public and lawmakers, like a Ray Rice punch in an elevator, the PawSox execs have again displayed their cluelessness by announcing a statewide “listening tour” to get public input. “Listening tour” is one of the more annoying elements of Clintonspeak, a patronizing and condescending concept that means, “You talk to us, we pretend to listen, and then do whatever we were going to do in the first place by working out backroom deals.”

And whom did the PawSox bring in to head this charade? Some former dentist and senior advisor to PawSox/Red Sox owner Larry Lucchino, Dr. Charles Steinberg. Not that he was a bad choice to succeed the recently deceased Jim Skeffington, the charming, ultra-slick and locally wired-in power- broker who was heading the PawSox’ pitch, unless you consider that the dumpy Steinberg didn’t know where the Providence River was while standing yards away from it in his first made-for-media event.

After the slap-back their initial proposal received, Steinberg is now on “tour” with essentially nothing concrete in hand, while you can be sure Lucchino and his high-powered Little Rhody buddies Tom Ryan and Terry Murray have Our Gina and House Speaker Nick ‘The Forehead” Mattiello on their cellphone speed dials. P&J are sure that the words of wisdom they will pick up from their travelling circus act will be well-considered by Steinberg and Lucchino over cocktails. “So this one goober in Woonsocket stands up and says, ‘Do you honestly expect us to help pay your bills while you rake in all the profits?’ What a moron! Why does he think we’re in this game?” Don’t expect that these carpetbaggers will “get” that the PawSox is a Little Rhody treasure, that the I-195 land was never in a million years intended to play host to a minor league baseball stadium, or that their claims that there will be no traffic problems and that people employed Downcity will hoof it over to Ben Dover Stadium after work in the thousands to watch the PawSox take on the Toledo Mud Hens is outright laughable to locals with half a brain.

Please tell us more, Doc Steinberg. We’re “listening.”

Another “Jackie” bites the dust

Your superior correspondents got instantly nostalgic when it was reported that comedian Jack Carter passed away on June 28 at age 93. Although the name will probably not resonate with younger readers, back in the 1950s and ’60s, he was a regular presence on the big TV variety shows of the era like Ed Sullivan’s show. He would race through his routine and, if he wasn’t getting laughs, would start to perspire and blurt out “pee pee, caca, doodoo” (Jorge actually saw him do this on television once).

Here is where the Jack Carter story becomes forever linked with Phillipe & Jorge and the Young Adults: One afternoon around 1977, Phillipe was watching “The Hollywood Squares” on TV and Jack Carter was one of the squares. Peter Marshall read the question, “Where does the line, ‘Where heather lies in a field of grass’ appear?” Jack Carter’s response? “At the Teamsters’ picnic.”

After spitting out a mouthful of pernod and grapefruit, Phillipe immediately related the story to Jorge, whose response was to write the song “At the Teamsters’ Picnic” for his band, the Young Adults. Our favorite verse from the song is the last one: “We’ll sit around and swap some tales/’bout fisticuffs and county jails/There’ll be no talk of saving whales/At the Teamsters’ Picnic.”

RIP, Jack Carter

….while another Jackie rises

Speaking of the Young Adults, the band is going to do a rare performance on Sunday, Aug 30, at the Slater Mill in Pawtucket as part of the SAM Fest portion of the Pawtucket Arts Festival. The event, put together by Slater Mill head ramrod (and fine musician), Lori “Ursula George” Urso, will take place over two days. On Saturday afternoon, Aug 29, the Grammy-nominated Jon Butcher Axis Band will play along with the James Montgomery Band and Doug Woolverton & his DW Funk All-Stars. On Saturday evening at 7:30, the legendary Providence cult film Complex World will be screened outdoors. On Sunday afternoon, it’s The Young Adults along with a performance by “Sax” Gordon Beadle, Bobby Keyes and Jay Brunelle. This is world-class entertainment and it’s all free!

The Rosary Stigmata

As part of the FRINGEPVD Festival in Providence the Theater of Bewilderment will present the play The Rosary Stigmata by Casa Diablo regular, James Celenza (directed by Patricia Thomas, music by JPA Falzone). There will be two performances at the PAFF Auditorium at the downtown campus of URI at 80 Washington St, Tuesday, July 21 at 7:30pm and Thursday, July 23 at 7pm. Highly recommended.