Ringing in the New

As always, it was time for Phillipe and Jorge's annual New Year's Eve bash at Casa Diablo last week, and no expenses were spared. Well, except for John "Monsieur Pompadour" Holmes reneging on his promise to spring for the buffet. Evidently, some financial problems came up at the last minute, but, lucky for us, the local New York System was open that night.

It was with sad hearts that many of our close friends were missing this year for a variety of reasons: Sinatra died, Joe DiMaggio was still in the hospital, Jesse Ventura was awaiting his swearing-in as governor in Minnesota, and Ed DiPrete was, well, you know the story. However, thanks to the resourcefulness of Lars, our houseboy, we were able to obtain a huge blow-up of the extremely flattering ACI photo of the Gerber Baby that ran in the BeloJo last week, and we hung it over the fireplace.

Your superior correspondents certainly hope that the next time we are booked -- excuse us, if we are ever booked -- we will have the foresight to comb our hair with washcloths and swallow a handful of Prozac prior to sitting down in front of the camera, just as our former governor apparently did.

Well, enough of such an uplifting story. Naturally, with our booming economy here in the Biggest Little, feelings were running high New Year's Eve, although in that vein, someone should teach Linc Almond not to bogart joints, governor or not. And the fact that he then spent two hours in front of the aquarium thinking he was watching the Discovery Channel was even worse, especially since he kept shrieking to his wife, Marilyn, "Where's Jacques Cousteau? Where's Jacques Cousteau?"

Fortunately, our congressional delegation added a bit of gravitas to the scenario, at least until Bob "Dorian" Weygand's wife, Hurricane Fran, loudly challenged John Chafee to an arm-wrestling match in the living room, evidently to send a subtle, Jesse-the Body-like hint to Dorian about a run for the senator's seat in 2002.

Once again, Jack Reed was mistakenly put at the table in the kitchen with the rest of the kids, until his partner, Serena, rescued him just before the food fights began. Meanwhile, Boy Patrick Kennedy had the crowd in the Boom Boom Room in stitches as he imitated his in-law, Arnold Schwarzenegger. To get into the spirit of things, Patrick even wore thong Speedos, a fact which Providence Mayor Buddy "Vincent A." Cianci promised to reveal the next time he went on Imus In the Morning. (You see, the Bud-I has yet to get over that wisecrack by the Teutonic Terminator about wearing too much makeup.)

On a low note, we had to feel a bit sad for our new general treasurer, Paul Tavares, who was forced to keep introducing himself to people. Even worse was Buddy C.'s tossing his car keys to Tavares and telling him to "bring the limo around pronto, Manny." Then again, Charles Fogarty also made quite an impression on the guests, most of whom thought that P&J had received a cigar-store Indian for Christmas.

One highlight was newly elected AG Sherbet Whitebread's coming out of his shell and doing imitations of his mentor, Captain Blowhard. These included trying to talk while repositioning his teeth, refusing to speak to the Casa Diablo help, and, in a grand finale, falling into the punch bowl (although we were uncertain whether that was indeed planned).

Some people do take more loosening up, however, and P&J had a dickens of a time getting BeloJo publisher Steve Hamblett to stop counting his money and join in the fun. Likewise, the Urinal's editorial-page frothers, Phil Terzian and Francis Mancini, were stuck in front of C-Span all night, mopping their brows with cold compresses while Laura Ingraham was on. Come to think of it, though, so was William Kristol, so perhaps we misread the reason for all the heavy breathing.

Despite Hamblett and the others, P&J know that, as long as BeloJo reporter Scottie "Fellatio Alger" MacKay can swing from a chandelier, we can always count on the Fountain Street gang to have fun. Consider Kathy "Faster, Pussycat, Kill, Kill" Gregg's new stunt of jumping out of doorways in front of Paul Kelly and Pucky Harwood and shouting, "Boo!" Indeed, we're sad to report that it looks like it may be a big year for Depends on Smith Hill.

Other than catching Doug White and Larry Estepa in our boudoir trying on some of P&J's "special" leather outfits, that was about it for this year's revelry. We must say, though, that we were extremely astute in our placement of the mistletoe this year, if the reaction we got from John Ghiorse was any indication.

Role model

For those who don't receive the "Northwest" edition of the BeloJo, we call your attention to a hilarious article in that bureau's December 31 edition, headlined SENIOR RECEIVES NATIONAL HONOR; 1 OF 100 PICKED FOR YOUTH SENATE.

The story congratulates young James Wendolski, a North Providence High senior who earned the distinction of being selected for the William Randolph Hearst Foundation's Youth Senate Program this year. We understand that this is quite an honor, as selection entailed a test, an essay and an interview conducted at the state Department of Education.

The BeloJo's story is a fairly standard "youth makes good" treatment, until the bizarre twist of the last three paragraphs, in which young James, who is considering a career in politics, reports that his main inspiration has been his mother's boyfriend, former state senator John "The Pension King" Orabona.

Wendolski says, "He tells me to work in the environment, and shake hands with the firefighter and the plumber." P&J will assume that this is not a typo and that Orabona actually said "shake hands" and not "shakedown."

The precocious youth also told the reporter that, at age 8, after watching the 1988 presidential debates between Michael Dukakis and George Bush, he was inspired to run out and read John Locke's Two Treatises of Government. In comparison, after watching the same debates, Phillipe & Jorge were inspired to run out to Solitto's liquor store and buy up their entire stock of Pernod.

James also listed Rousseau and Plato as fave raves on his reading list. Well, since young Jim is so taken with weighty tomes, may we suggest William James's The Principles of Psychology (1890) -- "an act has no ethical quality whatever unless it be chosen out of several all equally possible." Orabona had a choice about what to do with his pensions. Did he choose the most ethical path? Maybe Wendolski should share the James book with his new mentor.

Backward Christian soldiers

As if the authorities in Israel didn't have enough trouble, last Sunday they found themselves rounding up a bunch of American yahoos calling themselves the "Concerned Christians," an outfit from Denver that abandoned their Rocky Mountain digs a few months ago and moved to Jerusalem. The cult's head ramrod, one Monte Kim Miller, a former marketing executive for Proctor & Gamble, informs us that he is able to channel the voice of God.

Overall, this sounds like a good deal, because Monte can then sidestep the issue of whether he is God and still claim that everything he says is the word of God. Wish we'd thought of that. But, hey, wasn't Proctor & Gamble accused by other questionable "Christians" of putting out advertising with Satanic messages in it a few years back?

Obviously, the whole gang from Denver has a deep understanding of the Christian message. Their theory goes that if Jesus doesn't show up in his old stomping grounds on schedule (their schedule), they might need to help him along by "starting Armageddon." Good thinking, you geniuses. Although we can't put our finger on it, we do recall something about "helping Jesus" through the widespread use of violence and destruction . . . no, hold on . . . that was the Terminator.

Interestingly enough, the Los Angeles Times reports on a condition commonly known as "Jerusalem Syndrome," in which tourists in the holy city "are swept up in religious fervor and believe they have become the messiah." In Washington, this is known as "Tom DeLay Syndrome."

Share the knowledge

A tip of the sombrero to BeloJo sports columnist Bill Reynolds for his New Year's article on sports cliches. As Reynolds puts it, it's not that "one team came to play" or "didn't come to play," it's just that one team played better than the other one.

Now, if Reynolds would only share this thought with political columnist Chuckie Bakst, who continues to consider those who garner fewer votes in an election as having been "thrown out" by the voters. Despite the fact that he should have been, was Nixon rejected by voters when John Kennedy was elected in 1960? If not for some questionable machinations in Texas and Illinois, the whole thing could have gone the other way.

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