DiPrete, but not DiParted

You have to give Phillipe and Jorge's old friend, Ed "Gerber Baby" DiPrete, the disgraced former governor of Vo Dilun, credit for having the brass cojones (paid for by contractor kickbacks) to show up for what amounted to Old Timers' Day at the gathering of the National Governors Association. The Urinal photo of the former governors meeting at the Westin Hotel, featuring the Gerb, Bruce "Captain Blowhard" Sundlun, and "Wide Phil" Noel, was worthy of the wall of a post office anywhere in America. It should be noted, though, that Fast Eddie actually used a comb on his hair this time, rather than the dish rag he appeared to have employed prior to famous "Welcome to the ACI" photo -- featured on the front page of the BeloJo as the Gerb began enjoying the comforts of home at the state's behest.

As our pal Merrill Chuckie Bakst reported, DiPrete was hardly shying away from anyone, although security was alerted to lock the Dumpster, lest we all be exposed to the sight of the Gerber Baby's patent leather wingtips flailing in the air as he tried to recover discarded envelopes. And there was absolutely no truth to the rumor that NGA head Parris Glendening of Maryland actually said, "Hey, Wally Cox! I thought you were dead!" when he saw the Gerbster.

But P&J say, what's a little racketeering got to do with anything when it comes to rubbing shoulders with men who understand the burden of public office? If there's one person in the NGA who hasn't taken a backhander from a developer, lobbyist, or corporate CEO, we'll eat Jesse Ventura's bike seat. The Gerb just made the stupid mistake of getting caught. And he still had the honor to take the hit for his kid and run the risk of playing drop the soap in the ACI shower once too often.

What better way for governors from all around the country to see for themselves the embodiment of the Biggest Little's official motto: "Lobsters and Mobsters."

Around the Block once or twice

A splendiferous last two weeks for your superior correspondents on Block Island, with the intrepid Jorge doing the heavy lifting by writing the column on an old Royal typewriter each Tuesday morning while being ferried from Old Harbor to Galilee by an Elvis impersonator on a Jet Ski. And where else can you actually get to see Christopher Walken walkin'? Mau!

Nothing like a little sun and surf, not mention the odd chilled glass at the Beachhead, with the Fantastic Johnny C, to make all things right. However, it's not all another day in paradise on the old Block these days. The famed painted rock by Snake Hole Road, the lane where P&J set up shop, is in danger of losing its tradition of being painted during the still of night, with apropos greetings, wedding announcements, or birthday best wishes, to greet new arrivals at dawn.

Instead, a rank bunch of Philistines who refuse to obey time-honored rules (probably from New Jersey and wearing tank tops and Yankee caps), are painting it during the day. This is about as detestable a practice as having the tooth fairy exchange a quarter for a canine in an elementary school lunchroom. We know of at least one miffed party who will be soon sending a letter, decrying this abandonment of taste and courtesy, to the Block Island Times.

Not to mention the fearsome feud of astrologists. To this, we refer to the Block Island Times of July 21, which ran this delightful account, in its police report, of a psychic psyche-out:

"Janet Lee, who operates a psychic reading shop in the Figurehead building on Water Street, reported to police that on July 9 and 10 she received threatening phone calls. She told police that a female caller identified herself as Sandi the psychic and [told Lee she] should `pack all your belongings and get on the boat' because there is only room for one psychic on BI. When police approached Sandra Miller, who offers psychic readings from her Chapel Street shop, Miller denied having made any calls. Police are following the situation."

A couple of things come to mind while reading this worrisome account. First, at least try leaving out the "Sandi the psychic" identification for starters, honey. Even the BI police don't need extra mental powers to put that one together. And shouldn't Janet Lee have foreseen this coming? And while there may not be enough room for two psychics on Block Island (not to mention two tanned, feather boa-draped gentlemen in wet Speedos, as was suggested by certain Neanderthals we encountered one evening at the Yellow Kittens), there is obviously enough room for plenty of psychotics, beginning with a certain pair of starry-eyed ladies.

Patriotic tattoo trend?

Your superior correspondents have always been a bit suspicious of tattoos, primarily because of the fleeting circumstances of age (youth) and circumstances (drunk) under which many people tend to receive them. We don't know exactly what this guy was thinking (or drinking), but in the BeloJo of August 7, in a sidebar on the National Governors Association conference, there was an item on the folks involved in a rally at Waterplace Park on Sunday, August 5. Among the demonstrators (who were rallying against a variety of trade, environmental and worker-related issues) was "one man on a bicycle . . . dressed in black and sport(ing) a tattoo of the Rhode Island state seal on his arm."

This might be the sort of body adornment one might expect from a talk radio aficionado (although placement would more likely be on the buttocks), if talk radio listeners were into tattoos in the way they're into, say, Confederate battle flags. But the idea that tattoos of state seals might be catching on with the youthful arty-boho leftist crowd is certainly heartening. P&J always thought it was a mistake of epic proportions that anti-Vietnam protesters didn't adopt the Stats and Stripes as a symbol, thereby co-opting our national flag from the hawks.

The best part, in case one starts getting second thoughts about the Vo Dilun state seal as body art (and we suspect this may happen within a week or two of getting the embellishment), is that you can at least salvage the anchor in the middle while having the rest of the tattoo burned off, and then claim you were in the Navy or a relative of Popeye's or something.

Well worth your while

One of the films that your superior correspondents are looking forward to at the Rhode Island International Film Festival is the US festival premiere of Rick Goldsmith & Abby Ginzberg's Everyday Heroes. It's a documentary about a diverse group of kids involved in a San Francisco area-based AmeriCorps program. Forty thousand young people across the country are engaged in AmeriCorps programs, including, in Rhode Island, City Year, America's Promise, the Local Initiatives Support Coalition, YouthBuild, and RI Reads.

As longtime supporters of national service initiatives for younger people, P&J look forward to the film especially because since Goldsmith is a former student at Brown and RISD. He also produced Tell the Truth and Run, an excellent documentary about the legendary radical journalist George Seldes (who, in the '40s, promoted such radical notions as the danger of smoking. For an excellent read, check out his autobiography, Witness to a Century: Encounters with the Noted, Notorious, and Three SOBs). Everyday Heroes will be screened on Saturday, August 11 at 3 p.m. at Brown University's List Auditorium.

About faced

Isn't it great to hear about Dubya the Dumb's decision to change the focus of his political strategy, a puff piece that has been neatly fed to and gobbled up by the media in the last week? Perhaps moving his eyes more than a millimeter apart might be the logical first step?

No, it is much deeper thinking than that. Now, a la Tom Brokaw, he will stop using podiums and appear in less formal settings, where he can exude his "charm." (If you've recently handled any live eels, Georgie Boy's charm is not dissimilar to what was exuded on to your hands.) This is no doubt the deft stroke of his advisers, like Karl Rove, the pig boy with the pear shape, who have discovered that coming across as an isolationist, juvenile, right-wing suck-up, lying, corporate-controlled cock-sucker (meee-oww! It's not the heat -- it's the stupidity!) might not gain Dubya big points in the popularity polls. Add that to the fact that Dubya makes our own Governor Bigfoot look like a workaholic -- the prez will be spending his vacation in Texas until after Labor Day. What do you mean, he's still a pampered boy? You mean your job doesn't give you more than month off with pay? But that's OK, Big Time Dick will call if he needs you to sign something.

Update on election reform

Your superior correspondents want to squelch rumors that some of the most intriguing suggestions offered by the election reform panel, led by former Presidents Ford and Carter, were left off the list. We know that there are a lot of conspiracy theories out there (mainly because we start many of them), but believe us, there is no truth to the line that Ford was upset when his idea -- that polls be set up at local golf courses, so that golfing voters aren't inconvenienced -- was rejected by Democratic members of the commission, who insisted on a quid pro quo for dog tracks. Nor is there anything to the rumor that Carter suggested at one point that complimentary bags of peanuts be passed out by poll workers to all qualified voters.

Living wage update

The City Council of Santa Monica, California, recently passed a living wage ordinance applicable to businesses in "the coastal zone and extended downtown core" with gross receipts over $5 million, and to the city and its service contractors.

Your superior correspondents and the folks who are working on a similar proposal for Providence will, of course, be watching Santa Monica closely. What happens if it doesn't ruin that city, and actually brings decent living conditions, opportunity, and security to the people of Santa Monica? What if the standard economic wisdom is wrong about all this, and we don't actually have to put up anymore with the vicious elements of capitalist excess -- something, we've always been told, that's an unfortunate part of the way things work?

What if we could actually do something to narrow the ludicrous gap between rich and poor without destroying (and, in fact, stimulating) productivity, because most people actually get a decent shake? Nah, it's just too much to believe that all the rich old white men might actually be wrong about something.

Send gin molls, ginger beer, and Pulitzer-grade tips to p&j[a]phx.com.

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