The invisible band

As the Bankruptcy Boys of Quonset Point Partners get more and more desperate about their megaport proposal in the face of mounting opposition, it's nice to see that QPP's PR boy, Dave Preston, is still able to get former governor Bruce Sundlun to go into the tank for him.

Captain Blowhard's op-ed piece in the June 13 Urinal was the most shamelessly ghostwritten piece we've yet to see in those august pages. Blowhard rolled over for Preston, his former campaign manager, and his piece parroted back QPP's party line hook, line and sinking ship, to the point of being incredible. While he was allowing Preston's paws to do the talking, he also permitted Boy Dave to influence him to include cheap shots at Save the Bay, saying they were using scare tactics about Quonset to raise funds for the organization. Perhaps it was only a fitting case of "turnabout is fair play" that Big Bad Bruce took a public slap in the face from three Save the Bay women, president Kate Kilguss and past presidents Sarah Richardson and Joan Abrams, in a stinging rebuttal June 20 in The Other Paper, which they at least actually had something to do with writing themselves. As with Carol Grant and Bob McCabe, who were duped into supporting the port through the illusionary group, GoPort, by Duffy & Shanley's flacks, Sundlun's having QPP turn him into a marionette has only ended up making him look like a fool in the public eye. Which, as he has proven in the past, is his job.

P.S. to Governor Bigfoot: Not that we believe anyone could be that oblivious . . . but if you didn't realize that the letter you recently received from John DeVillars, head of the regional EPA office, was as thinly veiled a hint as he can legally give that the megaport will not be given a permit by his agency, we need to check your reading as well as hearing ability. Add some Visine to that Q-Tip order?

Thanks for the monster raving memories

Vote for insanity -- you know it makes sense." That was the political slogan of Britain's Monster Raving Loony Party and its founder and fearless leader, Screaming Lord Sutch, a Casa Diablo legend who unfortunately hanged himself in his home in north London last week. Called "the best-loved politician of his generation," (Well, who did you expect, Maggie Thatcher?), Sutch vowed to "give Britain a good time," and he was famous for posing such logical campaign questions as "Why is there only one Monopolies Commission?"

Lord Sutch came to P&J's attention in the late 1960s, when he put out a record entitled "Screaming Lord Sutch and Heavy Friends," featuring the Lord with former members of his band, the Raving Savages, such as Jimmy Page. Suffice it to say his singing was virtually unlistenable, but Austin Powers owes a tip of the hat to the outrageous crushed velvet outfits that Sutch sported on stage. Always deemed a bit of a harmless madman by his opponents, it was his victory in a by-election in Bootle in 1990 that actually led to the downfall of the Socialist Democrat Party, then seen as a rising force in British politics. Take heart, Cool Moosers everywhere.

Don't call us . . .

Well, looks like vagabond b-ball Messiah Lamar Odom finally ran out of excuses and people in high places who are willing to play the role of Ben Dover for him and serve his every need and want. When Odom made loud noises about wanting to return to URI for another year of the type of rigorous academics he engaged in his first semesters on campus, Prez Bob Carothers finally screwed up his courage and announced that he, and not the athletic department, ran the school, and he expressed hope that Lamar would enjoy the NBA. An air ball to Ron Petro, the Rams' athletic director, for trying to subvert every NCAA rule in the book to get his prized scholar-athlete back into school. But fortunately a modicum of integrity won out before P&J, among many others, questioned just how Odom fared on his grades this past semester, most of which was spent in the Big Apple. Oh, and Lamar, you don't have to worry about writing three more paragraphs for the prez again. Good thing, we heard you had writer's cramp from the first time around.

Bye-bye, Groceria

A mere seven months after it opened, the Groceria Café & Market on Weybosset Street in downtown La Prov is out of business. It was a risky and visionary endeavor, too visionary for its own good, and no one knew that better than owners John Rector and Steve Boudreau. It was a terrific place with great food. John and Steve took the big risk largely because they believed in Providence wanted to help make the new frontier happen sooner. Unfortunately, the much-touted future, when people will be living downtown in larger numbers, just didn't happen fast enough for the Groceria to hang on. As architect and downtown regular, Ken Orenstein, told the Other Paper, "What a shame." Rector and Boudreau are heroes because they took a big risk to improve downtown life and did it with style and grace.

The biggest moron in Congress

There's pretty stiff competition for being the biggest moron in Congress, but your superior correspondents are pretty certain that, when it comes to worthless pieces of pandering jet trash, no one takes the cake like Bob Barr of Georgia. He's got a strong track record. Pushing for Clinton's impeachment months before Monica reared her acned puss (not to mention, long before there were any legitimate issues to pin the tail on Donkey Boy) was certainly an inspired act. And, of course, moron-watchers were equally thrilled by his whipped cream adventure with a stripper and numerous speeches in front of openly racist groups.

But, last week, Butthead Bobby truly placed himself out of sight. First, he took on the role of the primary proponent for the thoroughly unconstitutional resolution to post the Ten Commandments in schools. Hey, that oughta prevent any further Columbines. Next, as the Republican-controlled Congress was holding a dog-and-pony-show hearing on "The Pros and Cons of Drug Legalization," Barr made a truly memorable suggestion to General Barry McCaffrey, the White House's national director of drug policy. Butthead Bobby wanted to know if anti-racketeering laws could be used to prosecute people "conspiring to legalize drugs."

Does this mean that we get to toss William F. Buckley and economist Milton Friedman in jail? General McCaffrey, though not exactly one to re-think the already lost "war on drugs," at least had the requisite IQ to retort that this "would have a chilling effect on the right of free speech." No shit, Sherlock. Of course, the whole point of the drug hearing was to discredit and intimidate those people who have questioned the direction of the drug war and wondered why we continue to pour billions down that rat hole. The mere use of the phrase "drug legalization" gives that game away.

Anyway, congratulations to Bob Barr of Georgia, a guy who makes Jerry Falwell look like an intellectual.

Bloodlines

Those who decry the loss of so many bastions of WASP privilege have something to cheer about. On June 13, the Dunes Club of Narragansett's Board of Governors sent out a letter to remind members of the upcoming Governor's Ball on Saturday. In the letter, the club president, James Seed, referred to an earlier letter wherein information concerning the family trees of current members was solicited. "A number of us have discovered that we are directly descendent from the original 15 Founding Fathers, and an even larger group has acknowledged direct relationship to one of our charter members in 1929." Then comes the kicker line: "All these folks will be recognized for their good bloodlines at the members' cocktail party preceding the Governor's Ball."

Well, whoopee! Although in recent years, financial reality (and maybe even a smidgen of social awareness) has made it possible for Irish, Italian, Greek and Jewish ruffians to be anointed members, the fabulous Board of Governors has found a way to distinguish those with "good bloodlines" from those with not-so-good bloodlines. These people make the DAR look like the Red Diaper Brigade. Something tells Phillipe and Jorge that, despite our good bloodlines, we're not likely to become made men at the Dunes Club anytime soon. Guess we'll have to content ourselves with swigging down our Bob Dole Boner Pills (aka Viagra) with our "stingahs" while sitting home at Casa Diablo.

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