He's leaving home

A huge uproar at Casa Diablo as Phillipe, in spite of the promise of cold compresses to the forehead and liberal doses of Valium, has flown the coop for, of all places, Hawaii and Southeast Asia, just to spite Jorge. The tiff over whether to play "Liar, Liar" by the Castaways or "Lies" by the Knickerbockers during President Billary's mea culpa in the Blewinsky affair got so out of hand that P. stomped out and off to the airport, swearing to J. that he'd never set foot (never mind derriere) in the Boom Boom Room again.

Fortunately, the tranquilizer dart that Enrico, Casa Diablo's in-house EMT, had administered just prior to Phillipe's departure finally kicked in on P.'s flight to San Francisco. And it was a chastened old queen who called to make amends, sobbing over his outburst as well as the fact that the airport was not situated next to Castro Street, as he had been led to believe.

Although P&J have figuratively kissed and made up (or vice versa, if you're in the cosmetology field), P. decided to continue on his Oriental sojourn nonetheless. Herewith, his first post card from the road:

Jorge, the class of people they let ride on aeroplanes these days is frightful! Unless you are minus a neck or wearing a baseball cap or a terrycloth jumpsuit that looks like an Ogilvy Mather advertisement for cellulite, chances are they won't let you board because you just don't fit today's traditional picture of Touristis Americanus.

En route to Hawaii, the first stop on Hysteria Highway, the swollen swine in front of me dropped her seat so far back into my lap that I was compelled to reach forward, tap her shoulder, and announce, "Honey, if your head gets any closer, it'll make Monica and Bill seem like they were just holding hands."

Well, needless to say that went over like a lead 747, but thanks to the intervention of Maurice, one of the flight attendants I befriended in the plane's lavatory (occupado, indeed, senor), I escaped with a mild admonishment from the captain. You should have seen the size of his epaulets!

Well, I suppose a beachside hotel in Waikiki could be worse. More Japanese than you could embarrass with a V-J Day and some monkey boy nicked my shades. But other than things like the ever-tasteful "Women's Thongs-Only Beach Volleyball Tournament" (salvaged only by the hordes of boys in their Speedoswatching with surfboards), Waikiki is pretty much clapped out.

Not fuh nuthin, as they say back in the Renaissance City, but on to Tokyo, Singapore, and Jakarta, where they rarely separate the men from the boys.

Bientot, mon cher,
-- P.

Mackie's back in town

Your superior correspondents have always felt weird about the fact that, in 1959, Bobby Darin, in his swinging faux-Sinatra period, had a number-one hit recording of "Mack the Knife." (It must be noted that the great Louis Armstrong did it first in 1956.) Indeed, the idea that, in the waning days of the Eisenhower administration, someone would craft an upbeat pop arrangement of a 1920s song about a German serial killer always struck us as beyond strange.

Of course, Randy Newman attempted something similar in 1977, when he released "In Germany, Before the War," the tale of the real-life child killer of Dusseldorf. And, needless to say, the lack of a fingerpoppin' danceable format doomed Randy's downbeat ballad. (By the way, it's worth searching out Lotte Lenya's German original of "Mack" to get a sense of how Kurt Weill, its composer and Lenya's spouse, conceived the sound of the song.)

But Randy's disappointment apparently hasn't deterred Trinity Rep from reenacting "Mack" as well. On September 4, the theater will begin a run of Weill and Brecht's legendary 1920s stage musical, Three Penny Opera, in their upstairs theater. This, of course, is the play from which the song in question emanates. And Trinity, no stranger to weirdness, has come up with a concept to promote the play -- a concept bizarre enough to have roped in Jorge.

This Friday, August 28, from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m., Trinity will host a karaoke competition on the first floor of the Arcade in downtown Providence, and folks will be encouraged to vocalize over the Darin arrangement. Prizes will be awarded in a number of categories (oldest participant, youngest participant, possibly the P&J-suggested "most heroic singing style") to be decided by a panel of judges including Kathryn Jennings of the Ocean State Lyric Opera Company, Lauren Bacigalupi of NBC-Channel 10, Kathy O'Donnell of Citizens Bank, and, ratcheting up the weirdness factor another notch, M. Charles Bakst of the BeloJo.

And, yes, Jorge will be master of ceremonies for the entire event. So, if you're a fan of great theater, karaoke singing, fictional German serial killers, Charlie Bakst, or any combination therein, you'll want to be present at the Arcade for this event.

Masters of mischief

Much as we're enjoying the slowly escalating race for attorney general, it's undeniable that the Joe DeLuca-Tony Fagundes Democratic primary contest for the Ward 6 seat on the Providence City Council is, so far, the most entertaining and creative joust of the season. Indeed, although DeLuca, the incumbent, is a Providence casino proponent, Wayne Newton is no match for these two seasoned vaudeville-style performers.

In addition to the standard "tearing down campaign signs" controversy, P&J are impressed with the allegations that a DeLuca campaign volunteer threatened Fagundes's life (a grand jury passed on calling for an indictment) and that Fagundes posted fake credentials. (No, Tony, parking cars at a funeral home does not make one an administrator.)

Then there was this week's hoedown during a press conference organized by what appeared to be a hastily arranged ad hoc neighborhood group in what the Other Paper described as "a trash-strewn parking lot" owned by DeLuca at 110 Academy Avenue. DeLuca campaign forces confronted the aggrieved neighbors, accusing them of being agents for the Bud-I Cianci, who endorses Fagundes. And exciting issues, such as who's responsible for municipal rat problems and dog excrement and whether one complaining neighbor would walk on her hands at the behest of the mayor, were debated.

You see, since the Bud-I has no opponent, this frees him up to assist Fagundes in the formulation of campaign mischief. One could not ask for a better consultant.

Male bag

Recently, your superior correspondents received a missive from Jack Lyle, principal of Central Falls Jr.-Sr. High School. He had an issue with a comment we made in an item that ran two weeks ago about a benefit softball game between the Fund for Community Progress and a team comprised of Central Falls city administrators.

Jack took umbrage at the following reference: "The first game pits the Fund's squad against the Central Falls city administration. [We hope they do softball better than they do education.]"

In his letter, Principal Lyle says that "when I accepted this position a year ago, I, too, harbored some misconceptions about the state of education in Central Falls. Within days of my appointment, I quickly realized just how wrong I was. A dedicated faculty and dynamic student body make this building a wonderful place."

Principal Lyle then goes on to list a number of achievements, statistics, and policy positions that, he argues, give a more positive picture of Central Falls Jr.-Sr. High.

Well, while we appreciate the information and feedback, we would like to point out that the comment in question does not in anyway denigrate educators, staff, or students in Central Falls. Specifically, the little swipe was at the "Central Falls city administration."

Now, we will cop to one element of unfairness in our little gibe -- the fact that what we were referring to took place at a different time and under a different city administration. Still, is it not true that bungling by the CF city administration was the primary force behind the schools' hurting so badly -- to the point that the state Department of Education had to step in and take control of the situation?

We are pleased to hear that Principal Lyle has reason to believe that Central Falls has turned the corner and is meeting the challenge of educating the city's children in a less-than-ideal economic climate. But while we acknowledge that our little joke was not a bull's-eye, we believe it was not a total "mistruth" either, as Principal Lyle stated in his letter.

We were denigrating some politicians here, Jack. If you care to defend those who, we feel, bear primary responsibility for the problems in CF over the last decade, we'd be very interested in hearing about it.

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