Star time
It's star time. Are you ready for star time? Groovy baby, groovy." Your
superior correspondents are reminded of the opening words of the Otis
Redding, Live in Europe album as we settle down at Casa Diablo for
the doldrums of August in the Biggest Little.
To get an idea of how sleepy things can be around here, check out Tuesday's
BeloJo front-pager on the Smith Hill neighborhood's response to the possibility
of a brand-new football stadium in their backyard. Yawns abound. It's still a
firm "maybe," after all, that the Patriots will make a home for themselves in
La Prov.
So since the spectre of beer-soaked fans with painted bellies and thousands of
car horns honking on a quiet Sunday evening on Jewett Street as residents
settle down to watch Mike Wallace bust out of a closet to humiliate another
chiseler on 60 Minutes seems too far in the future to consider, Phillipe
& Jorge turn our attention to more pressing manifestations of "star time."
In essence, will Babs and Brolin tie the knot on Block Island this weekend, and
will Big Bill, the waffler-in-chief, show up just in time to chow down on a
presidential-sized slice of wedding cake?
The rumors are already pervasive enough to ensure that boatloads of paparazzi
and bottom-feeding tabloid journalists will be crawling all over the sleepy
island for the next few days, sure to remind islanders of the horror show that
ensued when the first warden of New Shoreham and a couple of his buds were
charged with raping a woman in the Yellow Kittens men's room. Oh, for the good
old days, when the only thing that could get a Block Islander's blood boiling
was the Great Moped Influx.
Meanwhile, back on the mainland, Warwick Neck braces for a similar frenzy as
pre-production continues on the Aldrich House set of Meet Joe Black, the
latest big-screen epic to showcase the Ocean State. How disruptive Brad Pitt
sightings will be to cheerleading practice at Warwick Vets and Pilgrim is still
an open question, but you can bet that Warwick teens (not to mention P&J)
are on full alert.
Ahh, Hollyweird comes to Rhode Island. We just can't wait. You gotta have
something to complain about during the slow, slow summer months here, and it
sure beats all the tears being shed on Bailey's Beach because RIPTA dared to
locate a bus stop a mile down the road.
Ancient chic
It's been a tough year for the beatniks -- now the seemingly indestructible
William Burroughs has gone to that big shooting gallery in the sky. Of course,
after Burroughs's passing, Phillipe & Jorge waited with bated breath to see
if anyone would confuse the author of Naked Lunch and Junky with
that other Burroughs (you know, the Tarzan guy), as has been known to happen in
post-literate America.
Bill Burroughs understood the American scam only too well, and in his later
years, he could still out-cool just about anyone with his shotgun paintings and
unexplainable appearances in everything from television commercials to feature
films to Saturday Night Live.
His hilariously ironic monotone voice was inimitable. His life embraced
contradiction and celebrated the outsider. He was an American original whose
influence was far greater than his cult celebrity would indicate. Rest in
peace, Bill.
This week also saw the passing of another cool geezer, Jeanne Calment -- the
French woman who, at 122, was certified as the "oldest person in the world."
Like Burroughs, Calment gave credence to the notion that the best way to
celebrate life is to remain young at heart. We haven't heard the "rap record"
she put out a few years ago, but we'll bet that it is mighty cool.
Fast on the heels of Calment's passing was a story in the New York
Times proclaiming the new oldest person in the world to be one Christian
Mortensen of San Rafael, California. Born in Denmark on August 14, 1882,
Mortensen is another live wire.
During his interview with the Times, the nearly blind and deaf former
employee of the Continental Can Company of Chicago burst forth with a
"Yippee-ay-ohh, Yippee-ay-yay," after fondly recalling his years as a cowboy in
Denmark (and there can't be too many of these old Danish cowboys around
anymore).
"I wouldn't mind being a cowboy again. A cowboy is a healthy life -- to live
with the cows," Christian explained. When asked if he had many girlfriends, he
retorted, "No, no. I didn't live with girlfriends. I lived with cows."
Yippee-ay-yo, Yippee-ay-yay.
A personal request
Here's a tip for the management folks at Providence's Avon and Cable Car
moviehouses. These two theaters are the main purveyors of foreign and
independent films, and your superior correspondents request that they book, for
at least a couple of nights, the film Traveller. The reason is simple.
The film was written by Vo Dilunduh Jim McGlynn, who also happens to be a Casa
Diablo regular.
What is the point of having your own Cool, Cool World if you can't resort to
self-indulgence at times? We want to see this flick and, being Vo Dilunduhs
ourselves, have no intention of going through the hardship of actually driving
more than 10 minutes outside state borders to do so.
There is a great deal of interest in Traveller within a certain coterie
of burnt-out, busted-up circus dogs who, years ago, could be found at local
watering holes, such as the late, lamented Leo's, trying to decipher what
McGlynn actually did for a living.
P&J will plug any scheduled screening to death, as it is in our best
interest to make sure McGlynn maximizes his royalty take on the film. They way,
he will be able to afford the nut brown ales that are our due for flacking for
the guy. Please, get the picture.
A short goodbye
P&J wish all the best to our old pal Jeff Dederian. The Channel 6 news
reporter and anchor is leaving WLNE-TV for a job with Channel 7 in Beantown.
Although P&J occasionally locked horns with Jeff over the relative excesses
of WLNE's "You Paid For It," Dederian's inventive and revealing reports for
that segment made it one of the most memorable and valuable contributions to TV journalism in the Biggest Little in decades.
Jeff is also living proof of the value of hard work in the news biz, as your
superior correspondents have watched his intelligence and persistence over the
years drive him up the ladder to success in a profession that can be uncaring
and unforgiving. Good luck, Jeff. You'll be missed.
Jockular
Nothing keeps P&J glued to the tube on a weekend night more than a Jorge
Paez fight. Although his skills in the Sweet Science are waning, the former
circus acrobat has a sartorial flair that makes our close personal friend Vinny
Pazienza's ring wardrobes look like they came from Brooks Brothers. Add to
Paez's look a haircut that appears to be the work of Vidal Sassoon on a bad
acid trip, and you've got a show within a show.
Fortunately, Paez did not disappoint last Saturday night at the Mohegan Sun.
He countered the devil outfit worn by his opponent Angel Manfredi (geddit?) by
bouncing into the ring dressed as a nun. Announcer Jim Lampley tried to play
down the religious cross-dressing trick by suggesting that Paez was actually
done up as a monk, but P&J know he was going for the Sister Moronica look.
Unfortunately, Manfredi beat Paez to a pulp. But for Angel's next opponent, we
would like to suggest another local favorite from Vo Dilun -- our own Sister of
No Mercy, Arlene Violet.
Stetsons off to the Dallas Cowboys and their head coach, Barry Switzer, as
well. Apparently, the Cowboys aren't content to just get caught snorting coke.
Now they've been found with prostitutes and dildos while running a
crackhouse/brothel in the local neighborhood.
What's more, Switzer was caught trying to board an airplane with a gun in his
luggage. While this conjures up the memory of Providence basketball legend
Marvin "Always Bad News" Barnes getting caught for the same crime and saying,
"I told them I had a `farm' in my bag" (he didn't realize that the airline
official didn't understand that in Marvinese "farm" meant "firearm"), Switzer
said he just forgot he put it in there.
And P&J believe Switzer entirely. After all, given his delightful past
history, we presume he was simply too drunk to remember. America's Team,
indeed.
Bite me
The P&J Leo's School of Journalism Headline Writing Award goes to the
New York Post, which matched its legendary HEADLESS BODY FOUND IN
TOPLESS BAR with a similar winner concerning Marv Albert, the sportscaster
accused of sexually assaulting and biting one of his former girlfriends in a
hotel liaison. After Albert's name was allegedly found in the address book of a
murdered New York City dominatrix, the Post went with the story under
the wonderfully creative screamer ALBERT TIED TO DOMINATRIX. Who says that the print media is dead?