Money for nothing
Nothing like being rewarded for incompetence on the job with a promotion and a
healthy pay raise. But that seems to be the philosophy of Bob Carl, the
director of the Department of Administration who created a special executive
slot in his agency for former DOT director Dante Buffoon -- at a piddling
$108,000 a year no less.
In a move that would rank up there with putting Gilligan in charge of a
nuclear submarine, Carl made Buffoon, a man who led the DOT into insolvency
from 1993 to 1995, a special executive director in charge of (get this) the
state accounts and control office, among other responsibilities.
Hey, nice idea, Bob. Old Dante proved a real wiz at controlling accounts at
DOT, if you call pissing millions of dollars away in a matter of months good
fiscal management. But don't worry -- we can always go to voters with another
special bond referendum to cover for his incompetence.
Not that Buffoon isn't capable of cutting some sweet deals, particularly when
he is the direct beneficiary. It was shades of John "Mr. Arrogance" Hawkins
when the Urinal revealed that Buffoon had arranged to continue driving a state
car from his former department for nearly a year after he was thrown out of his
job as head honcho at the DOT. Naturally, it wasn't a Volkswagen. You wouldn't
expect a transportation specialist to ride a RIPTA bus, would you?
What a bargain for the taxpayers! A guy who can't balance a checkbook
overseeing the state's accounts. Perhaps we should also make Joe Mollicone head
of banking regulation. And to think Buffoon will have to get by on only
$108,000 a year. Must be the Vo Dilun version of a merit raise.
Hope you survive, Dante. We'll send a canned ham to your house at Christmas to
tide you over. And Bob, hope you like the homophobic AIDS jokes we so enjoyed
hearing Buffoon tell once. He's got a million, we bet. Or at least he'll have a
million bucks 10 years from now.
Brewhaha in Tiverton
Bob A. Roy of Westport, Massachusetts probably wasn't the first person to
consider dousing a television reporter with coffee. But as far as we know, he
was the first area resident to act on this anti-social impulse when he anointed
Channel 10 newsman Mario Hilario with a steaming mug o' joe at Tiverton's
Guimond Farms convenience store last Thursday.
Hilario was on location to gauge local reaction to the arrest of a New
Hampshire man in the slaying of a Tiverton woman. But even before the cameras
and lights had been set up for taping, Roy took umbrage with what he considered
an intrusion on his daily routine.
Hilario wound up reporting the incident to local police and pressing charges
against Roy for simple assault. According to a report in the BlowJo, the owner
of the store claimed that Roy was a "regular" who came into the store "about
four times a day." Sounds like our protagonist has a rather casual schedule.
Let's hope this is not the beginning of an ugly trend. We'd hate to see
wild-eyed citizens pursuing Doug White with a pair of hair clippers or some
joker thrusting stilts under vertically-challenged Channel 6 reporter Jeff
Derderian. No word yet on the rumor that Hilario would have been less upset had
Roy dumped tea rather than coffee on him.
Hostile environment
It's nice to see that the great American tradition of witch hunts hasn't ended.
Today, the Biggest Little's chief celebrant of this hideous practice is the
so-called Kennedy Commission, which is attempting to destroy the state
Department of Environmental Management (DEM).
This special legislative commission headed by state Representative Brian
Kennedy (whose knowledge of the environment could fit into a thimble) had been
designed to examine DEM operations. But after DEM director Tim Keeney refused
to let his staff testify at a hearing during his absence, it turned into a
personal vendetta. Basically, Kennedy (D-Hopkinton) is attempting to show
Keeney that our esteemed and oh-so-highly-regarded legislators should call the
shots on DEM regs.
The most ludicrous and overt proof of this was Kennedy's desire to pass a law
that would sentence anyone from DEM who told a lie to the commission to up to
20 years in prison. Someone finally had to point out to genius boy Kennedy that
the sentence was more than you'd get for a major felony conviction.
Showing his commitment to higher ethics, Kennedy has been trotting in people
to criticize DEM and recall the grievous wrongs done to them. But what he fails
to ask those testifying at these public hearings is whether they have any prior
convictions for environmental crimes.
Sur-prahze, sur-prahze, Gomer! A number of them do. Perhaps Kennedy could
arrange to have developers-from-hell Richard Bacarri, Roy Dutra, or perhaps
even executives from Ciba-Geigy come and testify.
The DEM is not without the faults that plague all bureaucracies. But these
problems tend to crop up more as Kennedy and his fellow legislators continue to
slash DEM's budget, effectively reducing regulation against folks who'd rather
rape the environment than act responsibly. This underfunding for the
environment has become so grievous, the regional office of the federal
Environmental Protection Agency has threatened to rescind some of DEM's duties,
such as its monitoring of sewage treatment plants. Anyone familiar with this
tactic of financial undercutting knows it is the best development that
polluters could wish for.
Soundtracks of our lives
One of the questionable joys of typical American life is our penchant for
piping music into spaces where there is obviously no orchestra present.
Elevators, for instance. Not that Phillipe and Jorge don't, at times, take
wicked pleasure in this conceit.
Indeed, the late John Lennon deserves a tip of the sombrero for his subversive
activities in this regard. His ballad "Imagine," a song with one of the most
Muzak-friendly melodies ever conceived (sounds like Beethoven's "Moonlight
Sonata" played backwards) is an all-time top elevator and supermarket hit. In
malls across the nation, it has created a phenomenon of many standard citizens
browsing the aisles with lyrics like "Imagine no possessions . . . no religion,
too" reverberating in their heads.
This comes to mind because of a report this week from Kent County Memorial
Hospital, which has decided to cease the piping of Braham's "Lullaby" into its
rooms whenever a baby is born. The tradition dates back to 1988, but a recent
patient there who miscarried found the tune painful and inappropriate for women
who had suffered similar fates.
Some may view the hospital's decision as thoughtful and sensitive, while
others see it as excessive "political correctness." Knowing the pain of those
who have lost a much wanted child, your superior correspondents are certainly
glad the decision was not ours to make. But if we're going to start rethinking
"the soundtracks of our lives," we know of a number of places where piped-in
music would make certain thematic sense.
For example, there are many selections from Wagner that would sound
appropriate in Providence Mayor Vincent "Bud-I" Cianci's office. Of course,
this would also inspire Governor Bigfoot to find a suitable sound for his
chambers. May P&J suggest a budget-priced CD called Herb Alpert &
the Tijuana Brass's Greatest Hits?
After his recent congressional campaign debacle, Joe Paolino may want to make
nice with one of the many excellent Selena CDs now flooding the market on the
eve of her soon-to-be-released bio-pic.
Profile in courage
The March issue of American Journalism Review has a wonderful profile of
The Other Paper's editorial page columnist, Brain Dickinson. Brian's battle
against Lou Gehrig's disease, a fight he has recounted in touching and
inspiring columns since he was stricken, is a model of courage for anyone and
everyone.
The article by AJR writer Florence George Graves also provides a
striking and topical counterpoint to the media hubbub surrounding the recent
death of Noel Earley and his wish to decide when his life was no longer worth
living due to the physical ravages of the same disease, Lou Gehrig's.
Phillipe and Jorge were fortunate enough to have met Brian years ago, when we
first started out. And we know he is indeed a gentleman and a scholar. We have
greatly admired his work since, most recently in the face of what many would
consider insurmountable odds.
His candor and inner strength -- and that of his lovingly supportive family --
shine through in the AJR piece, making P&J marvel even more at his
ongoing accomplishments. We urge you to find a copy.
Kudos & congrats . . .
. . . to The Other Paper's M. Charles Bakst. Despite the belt-tightening at
the Urinal, our pal Chuckie has been able to continue to get away with the
stuff the average ink-stained newsboy can only dream about -- i.e., Tuesday's
column about the Mancini & Moishe Italian/Jewish deli in Naples, Florida.
As Chuckie points out while giving readers a complete rundown on the delicacies
available here, it's only a half-hour away from the Red Sox training camp in
Fort Myers. Ahh, yes. Chuckie was able to combine two of his greatest loves,
the BoSox and eating, in a column while continuing to be the BlowJo's
"political columnist." All we can say is that Phillipe & Jorge are mighty
jealous.