Let the sun shine in

That scream you heard Tuesday morning was the sound of the Lord of the Dark, Rhode Island Economic Development Corporation head John "What Clean Water Act?" Swen, after Save the Bay and the Conservation Law Foundation demanded that light be shed on the the plans for the megaport at Quonset Point submitted by the Bankruptcy Boys of Quonset Point Partners. Save the Bay and CLF are demanding them under the R.I. Public Access to Records Act, and they want to see everything from correspondence since the beginning of the new year, carrier commitments and a financing plan, as well as the proposed port plan. As the Bankruptcy Boys have yet to reveal their supposed backers, do not have carrier commitments, and will go against the desires of the stakeholders by asking for large load megaport, their fears of any light falling on the plans they have been making behind closed doors with Swen and his backroom boys should be very real. While the boys at EDC are putting on a good front, they must be howling now that Governor Bigfoot has said he will make the plans public after he receives them. Is this a bit of a soft shoe by the Missing Linc? Sure, but it's a good way to distance himself from this atrocious proposal before the facts come out, so he can avoid taking the PR hit in the teeth.

Traffic snarls

Although we frequently concur with concerns about government operations expressed by groups like Operation Clean Government, we must say that, at least in one recent case, we disagree. Folks from OCG recently appeared at the legislative confirmation hearings of the three new magistrates appointed to sit on Judge DeRobbio's reconfigured traffic court. Arguing that the candidates were politically connected and the whole process was being rushed through, they spoke in opposition to the choices.

We agree that the process was a rush job, a fact that once again underscores the political tin ear (or, some might say, arrogance) of the gang up at Halitosis Hall. But, the criticism that those chosen were "politically connected" seems, to P&J, rather absurd. Do the self-proclaimed reformers actually believe that there are folks who, for the past 10 years, have been down in their basements boning up on traffic law; people who heretofore have been beneath the political radar? If so, we wonder who these people are and if OCG has a list of them.

The fact is that those who have a working knowledge of the law and the skills necessary to serve well what all hope will be the new, improved traffic court are, almost by definition, "politically connected." One of the problems with the disastrous traffic court of old was that too many of the lifetime-tenured judges were older and this was offered as a political reward. Not true of the new trio.

In the spirit of full disclosure, P&J wish it known that one of the candidates, Bill Noonan, is a good friend and Casa Diablo regular. Yeah, Bill's been active in politics for years so, he is, as they say, "connected." He has also served as a district court judge and, as Pawtucket Mayor Bob "Dog Years" Metivier's top aide and public safety commissioner, was instrumental in cleaning up that city after the Sarault years. There are few in public service that we hold in higher regard. We would suggest that one of the primary reasons Noonan took the job was that it is another opportunity to straighten out an operation with a poor record.

We were also amused that in the Urinal's coverage of the traffic court appointments, it was noted in two separate articles that Noonan was from Pawtucket "home city of House Speaker Harwood." On what basis does the BeloJo insinuate that Harwood had a hand in Noonan's selection? Gee, we know some Other Paper reporters who live in Cranston, home city of Ed DiPrete. What does that mean? We would suggest . . . nothing.

No escape from Technoworld

With Hollywood under attack for its frequently violent and sexually explicit offerings, in the wake of the recent spate of school shootings, Warner Bros. TV network took an unusual step. They decided not to air the final episode of the cult TV favorite, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, as scheduled. Of course, they were planned to show it later on in the summer, but gaining those brownie points with the public was viewed as a good move. The episode in question featured a high school bloodbath, a la Carrie or, more to the point, Columbine High.

Warner Bros., however, did air the final episode in Canada. Within hours of the telecast, at least one Canadian Buffy buff copied the entire program and put it up on his Web site. This was then downloaded by computer geeks around the world. The WB was understandably outraged and moved quickly to shut down the Web site, but not until the contraband program was already out there and available.

Now, let's just imagine for a moment who might be among those feverishly hunched over their home computers furiously downloading this Holy Grail of kiddie cult? Does anyone picture a 15-year-old in purple lipstick with a hairdo sprayed and coifed into a replica of the QEII and sporting an H.P. Lovecraft T-shirt? And, is that a Marilyn Manson CD we hear in the background? Yes indeed, there's no stopping the Information Age.

Translate this!

Since your superior correspondents have a hard enough time with English, we are always impressed with those who are multilingual. Well, maybe not always. Since English has become the international language, driven by the pervasive international influence of the American entertainment industry, anyone trying to sell anything knows that they have to get it down in English. Unfortunately, it doesn't always work out according to plan. Working USA magazine reports that the Scandinavian manufacturers of the Electrolux vacuum cleaner seemed to have mastered rhyme, but not necessarily nuance, when they recently came up with the slogan, "Nothing sucks like an Electrolux."

In an entirely unrelated story, the United Auto Worker's house organ, Solidarity, reveals that Americans seeking to master Spanish, even in the Latino hotbed of southern Florida, also have their difficulties. A company in Florida, in an attempt to get in on the marketing bandwagon a few months back when the Pope made a quick stateside visit, hurriedly printed up a run of T-shirts to commemorate the visit with the message, "I saw the potato," inscribed on the front. There is no evidence to suggest that former veep Dan Quayle is an officer of the company responsible.

The Gerber Diaries

More musings from prisoner #110156

Well, I was pretty sure the you-know-what would hit the fan when Pat found out there is no such thing as welfare for individuals, and that just families can get a free handout. But I've got it tough enough in here without having me being the one to tell her, and then have to worry about arsenic being in the pies she brings one her visits for me and Bobo. This way she's pissed at Christine Ferguson, who she's accusing of just making up the rules as she goes along to screw her out of her benefits, never mind Joe Rodgers holding back my pension. She sure didn't think a few years back when she was doing benefits for Amos House she'd be looking to book the penthouse there now.

I hate to admit it, but some of those letters to the editor of the ProJo are right on the mark telling her to get a job like everyone else, or simply sell off the house. I tried to tell her that there are maybe one or two people in the state who aren't exactly camped out in a mansion in western Cranston, and might not feel it's a birthright just because she attended some fund-raisers with me when she was Rhody's first lady. Maybe we should have hung on to the Winnebago, after all. Then all she'd need would be a good electric hook-up at Burlingame State Park for the summer, and a John Ghiorse hurricane tracking chart to know when to amscray from the trailer park when the twisters start bearing down on it.

Other than the fact that I'm in this dump for no good reason I can think of, I wouldn't have been half as mad as I am now at the parole board if Bobo hadn't explained to me that when they "flattened" my sentence it meant that the only way I'm getting out of here before my whole term is up is if I leave some lipstick on George Vose's SuperMax, if you know what I mean. (And Bobo certainly does.) More and more I'm thinking it would be a hell of a lot better if it was Dennis in here cooling his heels rather than me. I should have never believed him when he said they'd be calling him Denise by the time he did his stretch. I still can't figure out if that was kind of a slap at me. Pat always said I was a handsome guy. Or was that right before she got the glasses?

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