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Disgrace the Nation In the spirit of Hurricane Henri and the fall of Kabul, in this column we will blow hard and piss all over everything, and move ahead with no idea what we’re doing and without any attempts at apology. The very visual coverage of the horrific botched withdrawal of American troops and civilians − along with our courageous native allies − from the international graveyard that is Afghanistan (hands up, Great Britain and Russia) has been numbing to anyone following this debacle. Thanks to gutless politicking and clueless and misguided decision-making, as P&J go to press we are just trying to digest the ISIS-directed deadly suicide bombings in Kabul and await more of the same. (And when it comes to humanitarian aid, P&J have taken to heart the comment from a now-forgotten source that instead of politicizing humanitarian aid, we should try humanizing politics. Got that, President Biden and everyone in Congress?) Your superior correspondents refer back to the CBS dramedy series, “The United States of Al,” which subtly and presciently took on the plight of America’s in-country allies, who now face torture and death for assisting our country in one of our most embarrassing and humiliating forays into foreign nation- building. We would also like to thank the good folks at the Pentagon, who kept up their grand tradition of lying to the public and the pols as to how many brave U.S. military lives were lost in a rigged game, and how we were always inches away from success. In “The United States of Al,” the storyline is focused on an interpreter (Al) who worked as a civilian with a US Marine’s unit in Afghanistan, but then came to the States to live in a comrade-in-arms’ house. Some of the nuanced jokes made by Al would, for example, discuss how long it took him to get papers to come to the US in recognition of his long, frontline support of our troops, putting his ass on the line alongside our Marines. We are hearing about those now-unfunny circumstances in abundance these days, and trust us, nobody’s laughing. While this “disgrace the nation” right in our cringing faces continues, apologies seem like very weak tea to P&J, and especially to those Afghan families’ faces who we have seen on video wide-eyed and crying in fear of their possible fates, while all they see is our backs. Shame on us as a whole. Pornography Section Call it “weather porn” or “fear porn,” but the arrival of Hurricane (cum Tropical Storm) Henri on August 22 gave Little Rhody’s TV stations the chance to fan both their feathers and the fire among the citizenry. Local weather forecasters never seem happier than when they are addressing potential natural disasters. As of the Friday prior to Henri’s Sunday grand entrance, grinning meteorologists were sending the tacit message that everyone should be doing the bread-and-milk samba ASAP, and don’t forget to get gas and more toilet paper. This unspoken appeal to our worse instincts in advance of an unpredictable weather crisis is a dog whistle ramping up of fear of the worst, hiding under the guise of “be prepared.” Well, if you are typical New Englanders — especially residents of the Ocean State — and don’t know what to do without being guided by some talking hairdo on TV, it’s time to head to Omaha. And as often happens, Henri managed to miss most of Rhode Island. Jamestown perhaps took the worst hit, with total power outage for all residents and six big-time sailboats snapping their moorings and washing up on the shore looking like an oversized surfers’ beach party. Residents also emptied all the gas from the town’s only gas station and all the cash in the in-town ATMs. Yet another Comet Kohoutek scenario overblown by the media to the nth degree. In the future, hopefully someone at TV stations will decide to take the route besides that of a shock-and- horror, “Oh my god, it’s pornography, it will destroy us all!” response to nasty weather events, which will be getting more intense as climate change sinks its talons into our lives, and come on with more of a reasoned, “Hey, this could possibly be a pisser of a storm, but you’ve got it covered, right?” And from P&J’s experience, if you want reliable info, just find someone who has the good sense to track the weather on their cellphone and make reasonable and informed decisions, instead of running around like well-dressed, made-up Chicken Littles, squawking about a possible apocalypse. Light Up the Night: How do we sleep when our bridge is burning? Relax and Enjoy It With COVID restrictions slowly but surely being eased back to a bearable level, and The Donald off Twitter and Facebook and just beginning what appears to be a marathon perp walk through the legal system, blood pressures are noticeably down nationwide. (Forget Trump’s nonexistent and bogus taxes, wouldn’t you like to see a running account of his monthly legal bills starting now?) So it is back to what Phillipe and Jorge value most highly: absurdity and stupidity. So hop on board and here we go. And Your Mother, Too With Nibbles Woodaway, a.k.a. the Big Blue Bug, needing repair, coming to La Prov’s rescue in the civic expression category was the unforgettable visual triumph of the Crook Point Bridge on fire. No, we don’t have Burning Man, but we did have a Burning Bridge. Most people who have ever traveled the span of the Washington Bridge on the I-Way (Route 195), or strolled, rowed, kayaked or canoed anywhere near the Seekonk River between the Capital City and East Providence are familiar with the old (113 years) and abandoned Crook Point railway bridge, which has been pointing almost straight up in the air for years. P&J always thought it was our version of giving the finger to any visitors or tourists who observed it, in the grand Providence tradition of, “Whatta you, an asshole?” But seeing the bridge aflame in the night, as it was on June 29, gave a dignity to the “Eff you!” defiance of the structure, certainly a postcard/poster-worthy image in the same league as the Mad Peck’s famous “Providence” artwork of years gone by, drawing the eye and heart of anyone who saw or will see it, despite its “Whatta you lookin’ at?” spirit. So we are sure that someone from our artist-rich community will see fit to turn it into the icon it should become for years to come. While no one should cheer massive destruction, perhaps this was our little tribute to the end of the pandemic lockdown, and renewing the local culture’s sense of pride in always burning bright with attitude and a nasty little gleam in our eye. Too Clever By Half As inveterate TV watchers, Phillipe and Jorge naturally have to absorb one-third of our viewing time from ads, dominated by not just Big Pharma products and idiotic car dealers, but the ghastly spots run by ambulance-chasing law firms and insurance giants. So it was with glee, and admittedly a bit of schadenfreude, that we noticed that one insurance company, The General, is now airing ads that are running away as fast as they can from their previous campaign that featured a simpleminded cartoon ”General,“ obviously based upon the outdated mind’s eye view of legendary WWII General George S. Patton (as played by George C. Scott in the eponymous movie). These spots nearly beg for forgiveness for trying to sell their rather serious product to the public with a clueless and juvenile approach, begging potential customers to ignore the stupidity of their previous pieces, and saying that they are actually a serious enterprise. P&J can only imagine how the ad agency that came up with the original, insipid campaign must feel (knowing they will probably never be hired again in the insurance industry), and realize that they fell victim to focus groups who gave The General’s empty suits the word that their ads did not instill confidence in their potential clients, but rather, as they say, sucked, and were at best off-putting and silly. Not what you’re looking for to protect your assets. So your superior correspondents wonder how long the annoying “Ba-Bam!” ad campaign of the legal firm Sparks Law will survive locally, since P&J’s reaction to these come-ons to supposedly find you a savvy pro who will squeeze money out of scheming insurance companies is a hearty “Jesus Christ, please stop it, our skin is crawling!” Time will tell, but our thinking is that anyone who thinks slapstick and shouting will play well in court or backroom negotiations, but would rather have a sober attorney rather than a Worldwide Wrestling manqué working on their behalf, may be heading for a fall. Take a LEFT at Croatia, Idiot This summer, the biggest event in Europe has been soccer’s 2021 Euros championship tourney. With it came an amusing story worth repeating. Now, P&J are regretful that we gleaned very little about Europe’s history, nevermind its geography, during our stints in high school. We mean even before rampant civil wars, secessions and the creation of all the “-stans,” god forbid we could find any country past the British Isles and France on a map.

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