DWB

Your superior correspondents have to wonder whether it was Senate Majority Leader Paul Kelly and not his wife who got slapped upside the head when we consider some of his actions of late. After being more than accommodating last Thursday to the ludicrous "tax breaks for the rich" proposal, Kelly killed the proposed legislation to gather data on whether or not state troopers stop drivers based on racial profiling. In its stead, Kelly "crafted" what he calls a compromise wherein the state police would voluntarily gather the most narrow information on the ethnicity of drivers halted for traffic stops.

While this may not be as completely moronic as the Clinton administration's thoroughly worthless "don't ask/don't tell/don't even seriously address the issue" policy on gays in the military, it's pretty close. Steve "Bad Hair" Brown of the ACLU described the Kelly compromise as "virtually meaningless," while a group of respected civil rights leaders roundly condemned it.

What P&J don't understand is why the original study was considered, by Colonel Culhane and others in law enforcement, so difficult and onerous to put into effect. The only even half-way valid complaint that has come up is the suggestion that the additional data would take too long to compile and would, therefore, endanger state police officers standing on the highway for, maybe, 90 seconds longer. This is not exactly a compelling argument.

Why do officials want to remain blissfully unaware of whether racial profiling is actually occurring? There is far too much anecdotal evidence for anyone to seriously think that this is just some sort of mass hallucination suffered by motorists of color. The few actual studies in other parts of the country indicate that minorities are not only stopped, but questioned and searched, in numbers that far exceed their percentage in the population. Even the woefully inadequate partial data released by the state police for traffic stops this past March and April show that racial minorities comprised 22 percent of motorists stopped, while they make up only a little more than 13 percent of the state's population.

Might there be some connection between the large percentage of black males incarcerated in this country and the perception that a black male is far more likely to be stopped and searched? If Caucasians were scrutinized with similar zeal might not those numbers be different? The challenges of this country's racial divide can only be met and dealt with by addressing issues like these, and we won't be addressing them if we refuse to take an unblinking look at what's happening.

Pride '99

It's Pride Time once again and all superior behaviorists are geared up for a swinging week of events. P&J remember when this was a tiny little march but, in recent years, Pride Week has grown into a huge and colorful event that only the constitutionally un-hip would want to miss. This year, your superior correspondents would particularly like to salute the old and the young: The veteran gay activists who opened the doors for all of us, and the kids of Youth Pride, the Way Out and all the high school and college groups who are the future. You make us all proud.

Of special interest will be tonight's (June 17) Art Show at AS220, held in conjunction with gallery night. And, of course, you don't want to miss Saturday's "Rally, Parade, Festival and Flotilla," starting at 11 a.m. on the State House lawn and ending up with music, food and fun at India Point Park for the rest of the afternoon. Come out, come out wherever you are, and celebrate the rich superior culture we have here in the Biggest Little. It's as close to Mardi Gras as anything gets hereabouts and, if your really lucky, you'll get to hug and kiss the fabulous David Abbott.

A family affair

P&J's hearts were saddened last week at the passing of Ros Bosworth, longtime editor of the Bristol Phoenix and publisher of East Bay Newspapers. Ros was 100 years old when he headed to that great copy desk in the sky, so one should not mourn, but rather celebrate a wonderful life.

P&J had many opportunities to watch his family, both literal and figurative, in action at the Bristol Phoenix. The paper was the embodiment of what a local newspaper should be for a community, and the same personal touch and sense of togetherness permeated the little building on Bradford Street as well. His honors and awards are too numerous to recount, but the good will, fairness, generosity and elegant understatement that he embodied are his legacy to the people he served in directing East Bay Newspapers.

The Gerber Diaries, cont.

More musings from prisoner #110156

Jesus, Joseph and Mary, they never told me they didn't have air conditioners in this place! I spent last week sweating like Buddy Cianci walking in the Bristol Fourth of July Parade with a Crown Royal, "yes, make that another double, barkeep" hangover. At least since they cut off my supply of Grecian Formula, I didn't end up with brown streaks running down my face, making me look like that nancy-boy Michael Jackson after a couple hours visit to the local Catholic boys' elementary school.

Bobo told me that I should have had some sense, and instead of bringing in autographed pictures of me shaking hands with President Bush, a carton of Kools could have probably bought me a fan off one of the guards. Geez, I thought the guys in here would be impressed, but they tell me the only presidents they care about in here are the dead ones' pictures on pieces of green paper, no autograph necessary. Bobo suggested maybe I should take a couple of cold showers, but I've been in here long enough to know the more times you hit the shower room, the more your chances go up of walking like John Wayne for a week.

So Dennis is going to deliver 20 cartons of Kools and Luckies here next week. Bobo gave him the number of some guys' place on Federal Hill which owns cigarette vending machines and controls the distribution, who can help him out. Funny, his name is Junior, too, just what I called Dennis when he was a kid. What a coincidence! Bobo said it would be more of a coincidence if Dennis was where Junior was, which is where my son should be, but I didn't understand what he was talking about.

At least I got some solace from my nephew Art, up in New Hampshire, writing to the ProJo to call that arrogant prick Bakst a "weasel" for doing that column on Pat. (And speaking of hair-dos, even mine at 95 degrees and 100 percent humidity still looked better than Chuckie's combover.) I heard from Dennis, who saw him at a State House event, that these days he's parting his hair at the fourth vertebrae down in his back, and can't put his shirt and tie on until he's finished. Why doesn't the guy just admit he's a slaphead and get over it. It's not like he's going to be mistaken for Tom Cruise any day soon.

Well, if we get another heat wave in here, at least I can lose some weight. The first time it hit last week, I thought we had a bonanza, because they served fried baloney sandwiches at lunch, instead of that cold version with the year-old mayonnaise. Bobo said get with it, Chan-in-the-Can cook. Governor Almond made them turn off all the electricity in the kitchens, and they just left all the baloney out in the sun on the rock walls. I thought that mayo looked a little funny. Goddamn pigeons.

The Dutch Invasion

Gee, do you think that the marketing department over at New Line Cinema has been remiss in promoting their new release Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me? The media attention devoted to the new Mike Meyers vehicle has been relentless, and P&J have certainly been left unmoved. Of course, the whole Austin Powers phenomenon has dredged up memories of Swinging London and British Invasion rock n' roll which, in perverse Casa Diablo fashion, reminds P&J of the long-forgotten Dutch Invasion.

Yes, it's true, for a few months in early 1970, the Netherlands were poised to be the new pop music center of the universe. How this happened is a strange tale concerning a trip American record producer Jerry Ross made to the land of windmills and tulips in late 1969. The result was a trio of Dutch groups actually hitting the upper reaches of the American singles charts between February and April of 1970. All of the releases were on Colossus Records.

We know that there are many serious music mavens out there in the Phoenix readership, and P&J are proposing a little contest. Can you name those three Dutch groups and their hit singles? Whoever sends in the first three post cards or letters with the correct answer will receive a dozen of the fabulous and rare P&J post cards, plus a copy of the equally rare Young Adults' album Helping Others (vinyl or tape, your choice). Why are we willing to part with these valuable keepsakes? Well, basically, because they're cluttering up the Boom Boom Room over here at Casa D. Why are we doing this? Because it feels like summer, and we're brain dead.

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