Old home week for the boho set

For local hipsters on the dark side of 40, 50, or (yee gads!) 60, last week was certainly an eventful one. First, the Phoenix’s big 25th anniversary bash at the Strand on Thursday, October 23, brought out a stellar crew to suck down Mindich’s liquor (no, Steve, we don’t want to see the bar bill — we can only imagine). It’s always a startling sight to see the legendary Mad Peck, aka Dr. Oldie, out on the town after curfew, but there he was, in all his do-ragged glory, live and in person. This could have something to do with the fact that the Mad one’s TV set has been on the fritz as of late, but still, getting the dean of Biggest Little hipsters out of his home is quite an achievement.

Not surprisingly, lots of pols and public service types were in attendance. Congressmen Patrick Kennedy and Jim Langevin were both spotted making the rounds, as was former AG Sheldon Whitehouse, Cicilline spokeswoman Karen Southern, Pawtucket’s Herb Weiss, and Tom Connell from the US attorney’s office (the latter was obviously there to make sure things didn’t get out of hand . . . right!). Newshound Sean Daly was in attendance, as well as a stellar list of BeloJo scribes (Karen Lee Ziner, the inevitable Scott MacKay, former reporter Marion Davis, Kathy "Faster Pussycat" Gregg, who was accompanied by hubby Peter Donahue, P&J’s first editor at the old Providence Eagle), and NewPaper founder Ty Davis. Of course, Boston’s finest were in attendance, including Clif Garboden, Peter Kadzis (drinking from the legendary "Kadzis cup"), Barry Morris, and our fearless leader, Stephen Mindich hisself. And former Phoenix news editor Lisa Prevost — a great editor and one tough broad — also materialized.

Much of the same crew gathered on Saturday evening to celebrate the nuptials of Rich Lupo and Sarah McGurkin (and, not coincidentally, to suck up more free cocktails, this time courtesy of ’Po). The big surprise guests at this one were Tony Lioce, the Other Paper’s legendary former rock scribe, who blew in from the West Coast, and Bill Flanagan, the epitome of the hometown hipster. Made-good Flanagan is a highly praised novelist (A&R) and high-ranking exec at MTV Networks who graduated from sucking down lagers with the likes of Bob Giusti, Lou Papineau, and Jimmy Macnie (all pretty cool guys, you understand) to hanging out with U2, Mick Jagger, and Bob Dylan. But, of course, like Lioce, Eddie Gorodetsky and a pile of other Vo Dilanduhs who have made good, he’s still a "regular guy."

John Rector and Teresa Level were also on hand. Those with any clue as to how the "Providence Renaissance" actually occurred can point to this couple as original guiding lights (can you say "Leo’s"?).

The Lupo reception featured music by the Sun Ra Arkestra (how cool is that?), along with incidental tapes obviously selected by the groom himself, i.e. classic (and obscure) oldies from the ’50s and early ’60s that only Lupo would have chosen.

All us old-timers were deeply grateful that this was the weekend for daylight savings time. It was an old-school reunion to beat all old-school reunions, reminding many, hopefully, that without the Phoenix and Lupo’s Heartbreak Hotel, this town would not be what it is today. And that’s a fact.

MESSAGES FROM GOD?

This might just be more crazed hype for the forthcoming Mel Gibson archaeo-Christian film-cum-religious tract, The Passion of Christ, but here it is anyway. VLife, a supplement to Variety ("the show biz bible"), recently reported that Jan Michelini, an assistant director on the Passion shoot, was twice hit by lightning during filming in Italy. Jim Caviezel, who’s got the title role, was also reportedly struck one time while standing next to Michelini.

Steve McEveety, one of the film’s producers, was quoted as saying, "I glanced over and saw lightning coming out of Caviezel’s ears . . . The main bolt hit Caviezel and one of its forks hit Michelini’s umbrella." Apparently, no one was badly hurt (although in the first incident, Michelini was reported to have suffered from some light burns on his fingers).

Anyone following the saga of the making of this film knows, of course, that Gibson has been accused by many in Jewish and Christian clerical circles of largely blaming the Jewish authorities in the death of Christ — a position that can’t be separated from hundreds and hundreds of years of anti-Semitism. Your superior correspondents will reserve judgment on the matter until we see the film, but even that might not be very helpful, since it was filmed in Latin and Aramaic. Although The Passion of Christ is not likely to be another Lethal Weapon at the box office, it could indeed prove lethal to the reputation of our boy Mel.

MORE JUST DESSERTS

While messing around with portrayals of J. Christ and the Big Sir appear to have drawn wrath from on high, Phillipe and Jorge wonder if Californians are paying the price of electing absurd Austrian actor Arnold Skullhead as their governor. We are alluding, of course, to the hellfire and brimstone visiting southern California, which is moving quickly toward having a "Perfect Fire," a la the "Perfect Storm" of Georges Bank.

Naturally, P&J would not wish a catastrophe of this magnitude on anyone, but it’s some coincidence isn’t it? Days after Governor Schicklegroper is elected by the Left Coast’s moron majority, the place goes up in flames. (Not to mention looking to go down in flames after Skullhead takes office.) Californians appear to have got what Arnold paid for.

On another front, your superior correspondents could make a very good argument that California’s new first lady, Maria Skullhead, shouldn’t be allowed back to her NBC News job, because virtually any reporting that she does on state or national topics, despite it simply being reading someone else’s copy, could well be a conflict of interest.

NBC is already bad enough in mixing entertainment with news. Besides, Campbell Brown, off-and-on-again White House correspondent, and news anchor Lester "Me, Me, Me" Holt have essentially allowed their journalistic credibility to be totally compromised through inanities on the Today Show and its weekend version, gibbering away and making celebrity small talk with total airheads. Yeah, that’s the kind of hard-hitting reporting we look forward to coming from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue or MSNBC.

Sleep tight, Edward R. Murrow.

WHAT YOU DON'T KNOW WON'T HURT YOU

An interesting little bit of human rights being denied via the Global Development Briefing listserv of October 23, entitled "Bangkok Beauty"

"We recognize that there are some difficult decisions that have to be made in hosting a conference of this type." — An unidentified US official, speaking to the Washington Post on measures taken by Thai Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra to cleanup and secure Bangkok ahead of its hosting of the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) forum, which started Oct. 21. The government barred thousands of street vendors from the central city, shipped 10,000 homeless people to army camps, and banned more than 500 human rights activists from entering the country. About 600 Cambodian beggars, mostly women and children, were rounded up and airlifted back home on C-130 Hercules military aircraft. About 3000 stray dogs were caught and shipped to the countryside. And a banner four stories high and a quarter-mile long, displaying an image of the Grand Palace royal compound, was erected to conceal a slum.

What you didn’t hear was any US official complaining about this charade. Pigboy Karl Rove was doubtless breathless with envy.

THE DOVER TEST

A grim report by Dana Milbank, headlined, "Curtains Ordered for Media Coverage of Returning Coffins," recently appeared in the Washington Post.

Our valiant troops are getting picked off by the handful in the Iraq shooting gallery because Dubya the Dumb, Big Time Cheney, Rummy Rumsfeld, Queen Lotsateetha Rice and Colon (sic) Powell had their heads up their asses before we invaded.

Now, efforts are being made to minimize not just the number of maimed and wounded, but to prohibit the filming of those troops coming home in bags and boxes. Milbank explains the ban at military bases, such as a big one in Dover, Delaware, writing, "Since the end of the Vietnam War, presidents have worried that their military actions would lose support once the public glimpsed the remains of US soldiers arriving at air bases in flag-draped caskets . . . The Pentagon has previously acknowledged the effect on public opinion of the grim tableau of caskets being carried from transport planes to hangars or hearses. In 1999, the then-chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Army General Henry H. Shelton, said a decision to use military force is based in part on whether it will pass ‘the Dover test,’ as the public reacts to fatalities."

Don’t you just love it when the loss of human life is tied to a clever little military or political catchphrase? Bring ’em home, and not in a box to Dover. Test that alternative with families of the troops and the American public.

DEAD PEASANT'S INSURANCE

While we’re totally bumming you out this week: one of the hottest recent discoveries by investigative journalists is the sleazy practice known as "dead peasants’ insurance," which is allegedly used by some of our best known big corporations — such as Wal-Mart and Enron. Officially called Corporate-Owned Life Insurance (COLI), this practice has been going on below the radar since the 1980s, and P&J were turned on to it by our favorite lefty in the bullpen, Dick Walton.

Here’s how it works. Big companies with a number of low-paid employees (the practice is also known as "dead janitors’ insurance") buy life insurance on those low-ranking employees — sometimes without their knowledge — to get tax breaks, as well as to collect benefits when a covered employee died. The Atlanta Journal-Constitution reported, "Corporations gain not merely from the tax-free life insurance benefits they receive when current or former employees die, but also can borrow money against these policies. Many companies even deducted the interest on these loans from their taxes." It is legal in some states, but not in others (which have emerged from the ghoulish Dark Ages of squalid business dealings). For some of these companies, death benefits go to pay for executive bonuses and perks.

P&J agree with Dick Walton when he says, "Just when you thought corporate America could sink no lower, you find that your imagination cannot equal that of these fiends."

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