You asked for it

It was bad enough that P&J almost got thrown out of our voting carrels for scrawling graffiti on the walls, but could anything be worse than waking up to Matt and Katie informing us that our president is most likely the dumb, delusional, and deadly Dubya? For us, there were shades of having learning from Howard Cosell on Monday Night Football that John Lennon had been murdered.

Ah, why should we complain? What’s the worst Boy George could do in four more years? Run up a deficit that will sink the middle class for generations to come while his corporate pals get rich? Stack the Supreme Court so John Ashcroft, he of the spinning eyeballs and radical right religious views, can gut the Constitution and take away our civil rights, taking us back to the days of back-alley abortions? Send more of our bravest young men and women off to die in a war (or wars) based on lies and geared to war profiteering? Bring back the draft? Drill for minimal amounts of oil in the Arctic, destroy our energy policy so that his Big Oil friends get rich, and deny scientific evidence on any number of fronts? Blatantly encourage racial, ethnic, gender, and sexual discrimination? Destroy our educational system? Underfund cops and firefighters? Shred social support networks?

No, of course not, because as a former charming GOP president once said, "It would be wrong."

As your superior correspondents went to press on the morning of November 3, John Kerry had called Dubya to concede defeat. What makes us so despondent is that Kerry — an effete, empty suit almost, in his own way, out of touch with reality as Bush — was the best candidate the Democratic Party could cough up like a fur ball. At least from this point on, moderate Democrats will be a (rightly) endangered species. Time to lock and load, liberals.

This leaves Dubya with a chance to continue dividing the country and making the rest of the world — and these are our former friends – detest America. It is difficult to describe how much the Muslim world hates us. And isn’t it wonderful that in the accountability-free Bushworld we can have four more years of paranoiacs, war criminals, and liars controlling our government? Did we mention how the national media fails to call them to account since most are either liars controlled by the Bushies (take a bow, Fox TV) or intimidated lap dogs (your cue, NBC, CBS and ABC).

Sleep tight, Mr. and Mrs. America, and all ships at sea. Back to you, Matt and Katie. Gag us with a TelePrompTer.

GOODNIGHT, JEFF

There may be school today in Foster-Glocester, but school is sadly out for Rhode Island legend Walter "Salty" Brine.

Salty, star of TV, radio, and outer space for decades, was 86 years old, and he had a hell of a run in the Biggest Little, beginning with the Salty’s Shack kids program, with his canine sidekick, Jeff, and ending with cameos in the Cardi’s Furniture commercials and doing his signature school closing announcements on radio.

If you ever attended an event with Salty, you never had to wonder where he was, as he wandered through crowds smiling, slapping backs, and kissing cheeks while hollering, "Ahoy, shipmates!" (Mr. Brine didn’t mind the odd jar of neck oil, which added to his usual irrepressible bonhomie.)

P&J cannot do full justice to Salty’s stature in this small space, but we will say he will be missed, and Vo Dilun may never see his like, a man whose appeal spanned generations, and who rarely failed to bring a smile to people’s faces.

Ahoy, St. Peter!

WHAT'S IN A NAME?

The fantastic Tommy C. reports receiving a missive from a friend in Ohio just before the election, reporting that the Republican state party headquarters in Columbus is located on Rich Street, while the Democratic home base is on Gay Street.

This is a bit reminiscent of the legendary poster/post card of Providence created by the equally famed Mad Peck, which features panels describing how rich folks live on Power Street, while the rest of us live off Hope.

MR. CHARLES DARWIN HAD THE GALL TO ASK

The ever-observant Robert Rose, our favorite JAR-head underwater photographer and TV producer, alerts Phillipe & Jorge that the first batch of 2004 Darwin Award nominees are officially in. The coveted Darwins are awarded annually to the person or people who died in the most stupid manner, thereby removing themselves from the human gene pool. So far, the top nominee comes from the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette:

Two local men were injured when their pickup truck left the road and struck a tree near Cotton Patch on State Highway 38 early Monday. Woodruff County deputy Dovey Snyder reported the accident shortly after midnight Monday. Thurston Poole, 33, of Des Arc, and Billy Ray Wallis, 38, of Little Rock, were returning to Des Arc after a frog gigging trip on an overcast Sunday night when Poole’s pickup truck headlights malfunctioned. The two men concluded that the headlight fuse on the older-model truck had burned out. As a replacement fuse was not available, Wallis noticed that the .22-caliber bullet from his pistol fit perfectly into the fuse box next to the steering-wheel column. Upon inserting the bullet, the headlights again began to operate properly, and the two men proceeded on eastbound toward the White River Bridge. After traveling approximately 20 miles, and just before crossing the river, the bullet apparently overheated, discharged, and struck Poole in the testicles. The vehicle swerved sharply right, exiting the pavement, and striking a tree. Poole suffered only minor cuts and abrasions from the accident, but will require extensive surgery to repair the damage to his testicles, which will never operate as intended. Wallis sustained a broken clavicle and was treated and released.

"Thank God we weren’t on that bridge when Thurston shot his balls off, or we might both be dead," stated Wallis.

"I’ve been a trooper for 10 years in this part of the world, but this is a first for me. I can’t believe that those two would admit how this accident happened," said Snyder.

Upon being notified of the wreck, Lavinia (Poole’s wife) asked how many frogs the boys had caught and did anyone get them from the truck?

N.B. Although Poole and Wallis did not die as a result of their misadventure — as normally required by the official rules of the Darwin Award, it can be argued that Poole effectively removed himself from the gene pool.

SHARP SHOOTER

Speaking of stupid human tricks, we were regaled by a story from our pal, Gunny, a former Marine gunnery sergeant who now works with bomb sniffing dogs at T.F. Green Airport.

While recently on duty at the airport with his dog, a professionally trained German shepherd, and with a gun quite visible on his hip, Gunny was approached by a woman quite obviously on top of our currently stringent homeland-security measures.

"Is that a seeing-eye dog?" she politely inquired. While Gunny retrieved his jaw from the floor, he had the good grace not to point out that yes, it was indeed a seeing-eye dog, which simply barks in the direction he wants his handler to shoot amid a crowd of people.

Wow! Bow-wow!

GRAMMY TIME

The indefatigable Al Gomes, head ramrod of Providence-based Big Noise records, and a longtime organizer/cheerleader/ packager and all-around impresario of homegrown Vo Dilun music, has once again managed to get some recognition from the Grammy Awards people for local artists. Last year, largely because of Al’s efforts in getting the various selection committees to hear the music, a number of local artists were placed on Grammy ballots.

This year, for the 47th Annual Grammy Awards, Al has managed to get on "first-tier ballots." (Don’t ask P&J what this means. Al’s the one who has managed to master the nuts and bolts, but it sounds good, a lot better than second- or third-tier, don’t you think?)

Al tells us that the following Vo Dilun artists are on this year’s ballot: the Schemers; Blueswagon (with the late Rick Mendes); Greg Abate; Neutral Nation; Big Noise (Al Gomes and A. Michelle for best recording package and best compilation soundtrack album for a motion picture, television, or other visual medium); the Mill City Rockers (rock); Mateo Luka & the Sound (rock); Hooker Street Band (Beatlesque pop); Best Friend Solitude (hardcore); Jerilyn Sawyer (pop); and Cecile Clement Grobe (classical).

It would seem that artists in mainstream popular music categories don’t stand much of a chance against bigger, much better known national acts. There is always the possibility, though, that the nominators will listen closely to all the music and disregard consensus-type thinking. Thus, the home team could actually cop a nomination.

"More better," however, is how all of these Biggest Little artists will be heard by people (the nominators) who would not ordinarily jet in from LA or Nashville for a cocktail at the Chan’s, the Safari, or AS220, accidentally hearing some great local music. Of the musicians on the ballot, only Greg Abate, the great saxophonist, has a sizable base of fans outside of the region. So anything that spreads the word is good news. Thanks for all the hard work, Al.

MIXED BLESSINGS

At Casa Diablo (and through much of the rest of Vo Dilun, we suspect), the village of Chepachet is primarily known for its lovely rural character, second-hand stores, and the annual Ancient and Horribles Parade on July 4. Now we read in the BeloJo’s "Lifebleat" section that James Crawford, a former Vo Dilunduh, is staging his new play at the American Theatre of Actors in New York City. While this is certainly a step up from an opening at the American Theatre of Robots, the play, entitled Chepachet, has a storyline that locals might not rush to embrace. According to Lifebleat, the play is "based on two friends recovering from a traffic accident and their relationship with their mentally challenged maid. One is infatuated with her while the other is abusing her sexually."

Crawford chose Chepachet as the title because the Native American meaning of the word is "the place at the crossing." Your superior correspondents wonder how the playwright will be received should he return to Rhode Island. Perhaps Mr. Crawford might want to put on a production in the back room of the village’s legendary watering hole, the Purple Cat, to personally assess the response.

Send divine intervention to get us through the next four years to p&j[a]phx.com.