Real Rhode Island lots

With the enormous success of Powerball and other lotteries, Phillipe and Jorge believe that the best way to avoid the Biggest Little's having to rely on those pesky casinos to shore up state budget needs in the future is to invent some lottery schemes that Vo Dilunders can't possibly resist. Public servants such as we are, P&J are happy to share our clever ideas with our reading public.

While the Lottery Commission's new "Rolldown" contest hasn't set the world afire, we are certain that P&J's own "Falldown" would be a huge hit. In this, a possible lucky winner picks the date he or she thinks the old, rickety Jamestown Bridge will topple into Narragansett Bay. Since the Department of Transportation, in its usual infinite wisdom, has no funding in its plans to even begin demolishing the structure until 2004 (and we know how well the DOT met its deadlines on the new bridge), this could produce the biggest jackpot in American lottery history.

Then again, one snapped anchor chain on a barge during a storm could bring that fragile sucker down like a Die Hard sequel special effect before Labor Day. Of course, P&J would include on the ticket a special bonus box to check off if you envisioned both spans toppling at the same time, which has reasonable odds in the latter scenario.

Next, we would suggest a "RI Powermall," another crystal ball-oriented gambling proposition in which chance-takers would try to guess the completion date of the new Providence Place mall. This is no sure bet, with the constant wavering of anchor-store tenants; the developers trying to slip design changes in that will create an architecturally challenged sheetrock-and-cardboard structure with no redeeming artistic value; and a virtually inevitable shakedown of the state and developers by the construction companies just as Dan Lugosch starts to feel stirrings in his nether regions as the mall nears completion.

And can you imagine the Bud-I holed up in his office with a box of Havanas, a couple of financially reimbursed escorts, and a case of Chivas, refusing to cut the ribbon until the date on his lottery ticket turned up?

Finally, our hubris does permit us to venture into the national gambling arena, for which we offer the idea of "Hillaryball." In this, bettors choose four dates they think will be the day that Hillary and Bill Clinton get divorced. This will include one Hillaryball pick, for the date divorce papers will be served by Hillary Rodham Cuckold on her First Man -- an event likely to start hearts fluttering, as the dates will be restricted to Inaugural day in 2001 and the week following.

Still, given Slick Willie's demonstrated ability to stay out of court, these tickets could become family heirlooms, giving future generations the thrill of playing Hillaryball while keeping that US budget balanced.

As Phillipe said to Jorge when they first met at a Monty Clift film festival on Christopher Street, "Wanna get lucky? Take a chance, come with me."

Charlesgate

At the BeloJo, a little mystery is unfolding that your superior correspondents have found impossible to penetrate. Last week, Joel Rawson, senior vice president and executive editor at the paper, decided to ax the initial Sunday offering political columnist Charlie Bakst had submitted. When P&J called M. Charles for comment, there was a long pause on the phone. Then he told us he had to talk to some people and that he'd get back to us.

Shortly after Charlie spoke (we assume) to the editorial brain trust, he recited to us the following statement: "I wrote a column on the Cumberland mayoral race. I had hoped to run the column on Sunday, June 21. The column was killed because editors decided it contained subject matter they would rather not see the paper get into. Inasmuch as the paper chose not to get into this, I can't get into it with you. I was disappointed with the decision to kill the column, but I want to emphasize that it was not a last-minute, arbitrary decision made on the cutting-room floor. I was given ample opportunity beforehand to discuss the situation with the editors, and I understand their point of view."

Naturally, this piqued P&J's curiosity further, so we spoke to executive editor Carol Young (Rawson was not in) and asked her how unusual it was to spike a Bakst column.

P&J: How many times since Charlie started writing the political column has an article been killed?

Carol Young: I honestly don't remember.

Young added that "both Joel [Rawson] and I hold Charlie in the highest regard."

Similarly, Phillipe & Jorge hold Charlie (but not his hairdo) in high regard. But no one at the Other Paper's mutual admiration society has given us an affirmative answer on what, exactly, Charlie wrote about and why the BeloJo won't run it.

However, reading between the lines of the specific denials and non-answers we were given, P&J believe the column dealt with hypocritical behavior in the mayoral race. If this is what we think it is, Bakst is one of the few reporters with the credibility and moral stature to speak to the issue. What we are talking about . . . we'll never tell.

Lights, camera, legal action!

As filmmaking booms in Vo Dilun, and especially in Newport, producers and directors are spending much time scouting out possible film locations among the many elaborate "summer cottages" in the City-by-the-Sea. While these cinema celebs examine the likes of Beechwood, the Elms, and Marble House, Phillipe and Jorge have learned that personal injury attorney Brian Cunha's recently acquired Beacon Rock estate, now being remodeled to suit the high-profile lawyer's personal tastes, is also drawing the attention of visitors.

Unfortunately for Mr. Cunha's hopes of having Gatsby II -- Jay Home Alone filmed at his estate, local film people have been showing off the former home of noted sculptor Felix DeWeldon for comic relief only, allowing the Hollywood set to stare aghast at the aesthetically criminal renovations being inflicted on the once-regal Beacon Rock.

Not that P&J would ever dream of inflicting our artistic sensibilities on another, but could we suggest to Brian that he affix a set of flashing ambulance lights to the roof to assist him in finding his way home?

Bent Trent

Let's see if your superior correspondents can get on a wavelength with the majority leader of the United States Senate. The sun (and the rest of the known universe) revolves around the Earth, which, of course, revolves around the USA. The earth is flat. And homosexuality is like kleptomania.

Have we got that right?

Mr. Lott is no dummy -- he fully realizes that his pandering to people's bigotry, sexual insecurities, and ignorance (face it, for an industrialized country, the USA has to be the most sexually ignorant in its class) plays well with the GOP right wing, which needs to be psyched up for the next election. In fact, it's a no-lose proposition for Lott, considering the fact that those moderates left in the Republican Party are not likely to rush to the defense of superior behaviorists.

What's more, Lott knows that his "biblical basis" for blurting out this inanity last week is the same "biblical basis" used by his fellow Mississippians just a few decades back to make "race mixin' " a crime. Of course, this is something we've tried to point out to our own intellectual state Representative Harold "Amazin' "

Metts, whose fully compartmentalized thinking rejects such logic. Oh well, as M. Chuckie has frequently said in the august pages of the Other Paper, in a few decades people will look back on troglodytes like Trent Lott and wonder how they ever could have believed in such foolishness.

Then again, it doesn't really matter if Lott believes what he says because 1998 is an election year. That means one can expect to hear more of this stupidity as the GOP sucks up to its right-wing base.

Expect cooperation to go out the window (if it hasn't already) in Washington over the next few months. Because the economy is perceived to be booming (it is, despite the fact that it's only booming for the people in the upper-income classes) and because there appear to be no pressing problems at the moment, the congressional elections of 1998 will be fought in the slime pit, with lots of sensational non-issues tossed around like so much rancid red meat. Another banner year for Phillipe & Jorge.

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