Whoo-ee! Did we hit the Trifecta last week or what? Dr. Strangelove,
a/k/a war criminal Herr Doktor Kissinger, stands down on the 9/11 committee
because he's too greedy to disclose his business clients; "Bernie the Bugger"
Law is forced out by Mr. Pope for his transgressions; and Al "Two-by-Four" Gore
bails upon figuring out he can't win in 2004. What a wonderful exit stage left
from the national theater of the absurd and abhorrent by three hideous
people.
The only business left is to take care of is the Mississippi Queen -- ex-Ole
Miss cheerleader, and professional bigot Trent Lott, the Senate majority
leader, who might be gone from his leadership position by the time you read
this. P&J commented last week on his racist remarks, but there are two
points we want to make while the Mississippi Queen burns.
First, Lott was only saying what he believes when he extolled the extremist
positions of Strom Thurmond's Dixiecrat movement, which is more than a lot of
other politicians who privately share these views can say. And why should we be
surprised that Lott is a racist? The current GOP leadership is rife with it,
right at the very top. Dubya Bush sucked up to Bob Jones University (as did
Lott), an abominable place where interracial dating was once prohibited and is
still strongly discouraged. Big Time Cheney voted against a resolution calling
on the South African government to release Nelson Mandela from Robben Island
prison. And AG John Ashcroft is as much a butt-boy for the unspeakably
intolerant Council of Conservative Citizens, nee White Citizens Council, as
Lott. What's the big news? It's just a conveniently compliant and amnesiac
media that allows us to forget how twisted the thinking is in Dubyaville.
The other thing noted by your superior correspondents is the lack of screaming
outrage by the black community over Lott's statements. It's bad enough that
scores of eligible black citizens don't vote -- or, in the case of Jeb Bush's
Florida are kept from voting -- but why aren't we hearing loud protests by
local African-American leaders to Senators Jack Reed and Lincoln Chafee, or
seeing mass demonstrations led outside Lott's office by national black figures?
Because there are no real national black leaders, unless you are gullible
enough to buy the ludicrous and disgraced Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton's
self-anointments as such. Until voices are heard, you can count on the
retrograde philosophy of Trent Lott and his fellow thinkers to continue to rule
the halls of power.
Sleep tight, MLK.
Good omens
Yes, there's a new day Don-ing in Vo Dilun.
P&J sincerely apologize for such a tortured and terrible play on words,
but we are simply swept up in the advent of the incoming Carcieri
administration. We admit we were fervent backers of Peppermint Patty York in
the gubernatorial race, but we're heartened to see the good people with whom
governor-elect Don Carcieri is surrounding himself for advice as he takes on
the job as the Biggest Little's head ramrod.
P&J see many old friends and colleagues and people we respect, led by the
estimable David Duffy, head of the transition team. Gone are the hacks the
Missing Linc surrounded himself with, although Bigfoot insider Michael DiBiase
still has a greasy finger in the State House pie on Carcieri's policy advisory
committee. But it signals Donnie C.'s willingness to listen to a variety of
views when we see names like Laurie White, Ed Caron, Miriam Curtis Coleman,
Keith Stokes, Scott Wolf, Paul Choquette, Ron Machtley, George Nee, Trudy Coxe,
Curt Spalding, Arthur Robbins, Elizabeth Burke Bryant, Scott Avedisian, Kevin
Flynn, Chris Little, Rick Brooks, and Dick Pastore making up part of the
100-plus advisory group. Good work, Don. Maybe we will actually come up with a
flattering nickname for you if you keep this up.
Our Town(s)
Let's see. You're a gay pedophile priest convicted of raping young boys and you
hit the lottery when a brain dead judge lets you out on bail. So how do you
celebrate? Super Bowl style! "I'm going to Provincetown!" you shout to the
cameras as you scamper down the street to a waiting ride to the Cape.
Yep, this is just what the Reverend Paul Shanley -- who pulled off the
impressive double of being the poster boy for both the Archdiocese of Boston
and the North American Man-Boy Love Association -- did when a Massachusetts
Superior Court judge allowed him to post $30,000 bail and skip (no pun
intended) out to P-Town. (What do you have to post for bail on a murder charge
in Mass? Ten bucks, a six of Sam Adams, and two Nomar Garciaparra baseball
cards?)
This vile Shanley creep is now in the gay capital of the East Coast (sorry,
Fire Island, you're simply back in the day now, darlings), a very safe place
for a sexual frock-up who seems to have all the restraint of a libidinous
Hannibal Lecter. Fortunately, many P-Towners, up in arms over his presence, are
slapping Shanley posters up all over town so that people -- especially children
-- will know what this vile piece of filth looks like. Hey Paulie, try hiring a
spin-doctor next time; we're sure the next jury you face will love hearing
about this attempt at rehab.
Speaking of public relations, how about that wonderful Providence College
basketball team ad boasting about "Friartown," featuring the PC players trying
to look menacing -- with best bad-ass posturing that would make a real street
player laugh out loud. Yeah, you bad. That's why the boys from Friartown got
their asses kicked by URI in their own house recently.
P&J think portraying the Friar players as streetwise hard men might not be
the wisest move. Local memories remain fresh about several PC players being
arrested and convicted in connection with violent assaults on fellow students.
Certainly, this is far from the idea being promoted of Providence as the
Renaissance City. Not to mention that the Friartown posse plays defense like a
bunch of Friar Tucks, and coach Tim Welsh's five years here have been less than
notable. Friartown, indeed. More like Freitastown, wouldn't ya say?
In regard to the faux rap repetition of "I know what time it is" that runs
through the TV spot, Phillipe and Jorge know what time it is too -- time for PC
to get a new ad agency.
Local talent
P&J find it necessary once again to point out how little the Urinal relies
on covering major stories on its own, and has become a NY Times-et
cetera recycling outlet since the Belo Corporation started stripping the Other
Paper's assets and reducing its news staff.
On Monday, December 16, the BeloJo featured five major stories -- a couple of
pieces on Al Gore bailing out of prez race; "Bernie the Bugger" Law being
replaced as Boston bishop at the Sunday mass; Trent Lott being challenged as
Senate majority leader; and the rate of Caesarian births increasing. There was
also story with the headline, "Businesses relish playing Santa for a day."
Guess which was the only one of the six written by a Urinal reporter? You got
it, you little elves.
Why the Other Paper can't send a reporter to Boston to cover a historic,
grudging, and embarrassing changing of the guard in the Archdiocese of Boston
is beyond Phillipe and Jorge. Were editors worried that their scribe might get
lost in the Big Dig traffic re-routes? And isn't our old pal John Mulligan
still ensconced in Washington, DC, and perhaps just as able to cover and get
feedback from key politicians on the Gore and Lott stories, which were instead
shortened rehashes, respectively, from the Washington Post and Knight
Ridder newspapers? Maybe he had to wash his hair that Saturday.
"The Providence Urinal. We reheat the leftovers every day."place if you like living with guys whose ancestors
came from Italy and Ireland"?
Faux Phil's glass house
Your superior correspondents got a big kick out of perpetually arrogant "Faux
Phil" Terzian's regular editorial column of Wednesday, December 11. He
excoriates the New York Times and executive editor Howell Raines, in
particular, for the recent and (we agree) unseemly spiking of a couple of
(subsequently published) sports page commentary columns about the exclusion of
women members from the Augusta National Golf Club in Georgia.
Phil blows hard about the "wall of separation" between the editorial and news
divisions of newspapers. His charge that Raines seemed to be breaching that
wall of separation by exercising far too much influence in the editorial
department (that he ran until last year) certainly has merit. But Phil's
condemnation of the Times and its "act of stunning, self-defeating
arrogance" loses a bit of its bite considering how the Urinal indulges in the
same sort of behavior when supposedly independent writers at the O.P. stray
from the views of the Big Boys upstairs.
Do you recall Froma Harrop's essay critical of Lifespan, the giant health-care
network? Probably not, because, after appearing briefly on the Urinal Web site
last year, it got spiked and never made it to print. And how about the op-ed
piece by former executive editor Charles Hauser, about the threat that
corporate chains pose to journalism, which publisher Howard Sutton deep-sixed a
few months back? These are just two recent examples, but don't for a minute
think that the Times has a monopoly on stunning and self-defeating
arrogance. Faux Phil well knows this, but will never acknowledge it. Of course,
he doesn't have to worry about his stuff being spiked since he's consistently
venal and skewed to the far right. We await with bated breath Phil's kid glove
treatment of Senator Trent "Lacquer Head" Lott.
Rhody on the cutting edge
Last week's Sunday New York Times Magazine featured its
second annual "Year in Ideas" issue. Among the new ideas chronicled was
something called "smart mobs." The Times gave a piquant
example: "When one girl spots [Prince William], she taps out a text message on
her cell phone and alerts her gaggle of teenage friends. They all do the same.
'It just has a snowball effect,' one observer told a Scottish newspaper.
'Informing 100 girls of his movements takes just seconds.' Presto: an instant
swarm."
Wasn't this essentially the same method employed by the girl gangs of
East Greenwich and North Kingstown in their memorable "rumble" of a few months
back? It's impressive, indeed, to realize that Vo Dilunduhs can be both retro
(engaging in teen girl rumbles) and cutting edge (employing smart mob
technology) at the same time!
Kudos and congrats . . .
. . . to worldclass thespian bust-out William Shatner for his
sensitivity and good taste. A recent gossip item in Jeanette Walls's "The
Scoop," noted that Shatner had contributed a bean dip recipe for the PETA
Celebrity Cookbook. Accompanying the recipe is a photograph of Shatner with
his fourth wife, Elizabeth, laughing as they toss a salad and the quote: "Other
than our swimming pool, this is the best dip around." This is the same swimming
pool in which Shatner's previous wife, Nerine, drowned.
Send the bad taste bell and Pulitzer-grade tips to p&j[a]phx.com.
Issue Date: December 20 - 26, 2002
