Handicapping the prez's chances

Your superior correspondents note a couple of sure signs that, despite current polls and the belief that Monday's four-hour Grand Jury Testimonarama created more sympathy than disgust, Billary continues to be in big trouble.

Two weeks ago, Martha Stewart decided to pull the plug on airing a special visit from the President for her Martha Stewart Living television show. We understand that the White House, in an attempt to save face, is now scrambling to get a booking on Donny & Marie's new talk show even though Springer would be the obvious choice.

Meanwhile, the new Miss America, Nicole Johnson, was suggesting that Clinton resign within hours of her crowning. One mitigating factor: she's a Pat Robertson protégée. And among the unconfirmed rumors started by the household staff at Casa Diablo are claims that she has pledged to remain a virgin and wear high heels for the rest of her life.

What's more, Nicole is backing John Stoessel of ABC News for the presidency in 2000 (David Hasselhoff for veep) and supports the death penalty for smokers and "people who swear in front of little children." And now that Nicole has expressed an original thought, she will refuse to have another until the year 2036.

Praise the Lord and pass the Munchkins

There's some question as to whether the country is experiencing a renewal of religious activity right now. But since your superior correspondents saw a couple of reports about this on network newsmagazine shows, we figure it must be true. After all, we would never question the veracity of somebody whose first name is "Stone," even if we were to find out later that his parents gave him the name because of their great admiration for the Flintstones. Their disappointment that he didn't grow up to become a regular on the series should be

tempered by the fact that being the stolid host of Dateline: NBC is almost as good a job as being a cartoon caveman.

Anyway, we had yet to see any great evidence of a religious revival in Our Little Towne until a few weeks ago. As we walked along Broad Street in Providence, trying to peddle bogus Sammy Sosa baseball cards to 10-year-olds (made on home-publishing software), we noticed flyers pinned under the windshield wipers of dozens of automobiles. The notice said, "TRUTH: from the folks in the street. WHAT'S DAT BUZZ?"

The first thought that came to mind was, "What's dat spelling?" But we read on . . . . "Swish! And the streets are free. Empty of dealers and thieves. Downtown Providence is closed to them; the Christians have them under their feet. Watch out cuz God's army is heading south! Zup bro?"

Now here was an interesting concept -- a Christian sect in favor of fascist martial-law initiatives to keep dealers and thieves out of downtown. Also, they seemed to be promoting, for publishing purposes, the use of colloquialism in lieu of standard English. This sounded promising to your superior correspondents. Indeed, since the demise of Father Charles Coughlin, there has been a perceptible dearth of unhinged fascists attempting to cultivate an urban flock. But the best was yet to come.

"FREE FOOT WASHING will take place at the intersection of Dunkin' Donuts and Travelers Aid (Weybosset & Union streets). On Friday, September 11, from 7 a.m. to 9 a.m." Well, needless to say, we missed it. But we'll bet it was a huge success, as, judging from our experiences at that location and hour, there was probably a huge foot-wash audience in attendance. We'll bet a "general hosing down" would have been even more successful. The new religious revival is on, and it's in Our Little Towne!

No place like home

After being stranded in Indonesia due to the Northwest Airlines pilots' strike, Phillipe finally made it back to Our Little Towne after a long stint marveling at the wonders of Southeast Asia. Where else would a hotel rent prayer mats and prayer robes, or explicitly prohibit the possession of durian fruit in your room because of its remarkable resemblance to dog doo in both taste and texture? (And please don't expect an answer as to why anyone would want to eat it or actually have durian-flavored potato chips available in the market.)

P.'s final stay in Bali was filled with recollections of home after he saw hairdressing salons named "Vinny's Place," a hole-in-the-wall sidewalk shop featuring an Italian flag on the window, and the estimable "House of Jacky," where they obviously cater to touring Borsch Belt comedians. But the final and most frightening encounter -- outside of those in Jakarta TV bars -- came when your superior correspondent found himself eyeball-to-eyeball with a six-foot poisonous sea snake while snorkeling. P. would have felt much more at ease had he known that the Indonesians call the venomous creatures "Michael Jacksons." Why? Because they are black and white, of course.

But never one to let down the truth-seekers and inquiring minds that make up the Cool, Cool World's readership, Phillipe conducted an informal survey (margin of error: plus or minus five Tiger beers) of the attendants aboard the five flights it took him to get home. The topic? President Billary's cigar aficionado problems.

So how odd it was to find that, despite a few giggles over the recent revelations, the attendants were much more concerned about the price of rice and the fact that people, such as their relatives, are being forced to go hungry. Imagine that! No wonder they call it the Third World. Simply no values system at all.

Just say no

P&J are quite saddened to see our good friend Nancy Mayer sink to the level of trying to paint another Casa Diablo fave, Sherbet Whitebread, as a druggie. If there were one race that we thought would actually deal with issues rather than cheap, dated and inane personal accusations, it was Mayer and Whitebread's duel for attorney general.

Most people could care less whether Sherbet took more LSD than Wavy Gravy, because he is an exemplary father and an intelligent, incorruptible and capable public servant -- much in the way that Nancy herself has been a strong and admirable champion of good causes as a politician. We would like to remind Nancy about two things -- one, how well Eva Mancuso's attempt to paint Whitebread as an uncaring elitist worked; and, two, how effective the ranting Republican National Committee ads painting her then-opponent Jack Reed as a despicable liberal worked in her campaign for the Senate two years ago.

You're above this, Ms. Mayer. Now let's talk real Vo Dilun problems and how to solve them. And maybe take a hit yourself to calm down.

P.S.: P&J have heard so much horrified feedback about Mark Patinkin's self-absorbed (there's a surprise) "I didn't use drugs, drugs used me" column in the Urinal that we have to mention how utterly insipid it was. We thought Mark had metamorphosed into Ward Cleaver years ago. Well, we were wrong. It was Bill Clinton.

We're buying

An alert reader sends along a rather enigmatic article from the September 17 issue of the Sakonnet Times concerning the Little Compton Town Council's decision not to change the date of their Financial Town Meeting on October 27.

The item explains, " `There was some talk of moving the date of the special Town Meeting up a week,' said [Council President Jane] Cabot. `A number of residents had said they would be in Ireland at that time and would not be able to attend.' "

Well, short of imagining a burgeoning Little Compton cult of Celtic devil worshippers, Phillipe and Jorge wonder whether "being in Ireland" is the same as our own imagery of being "tired and emotional" when getting legless after a number of Pernod-and-grapefruits at the local neck-oil parlor. Could the Stone House Inn be having a beer-tasting party on the 27th?

Play on

P&J were saddened last week by the death of Lincoln Pratt, an ambassador for many of the Biggest Little's finest nonprofit organizations, a person who presented the more human side of the Other Paper and was a musical whiz at the keys of the organ at the Providence Performing Arts Center. We're sure the Big Sir has a Wurlitzer for Linc tucked away somewhere upstairs behind all those harps.

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