Hot stuff in Jamestown

Well, could there possibly be more fun going on these days than in Little Rhody’s own version of Peyton Place — the small, but extremely saucy Jamestown? (Town motto: "Come on baby, light my fire.") This is nearly as good as when the town boasted a combination liquor and hardware store, leading some to adopt the slogan, "Why don’t we get drunk and screw?"

First, an upset woman was reported to have attacked her boyfriend and one of his friends in early January, the lissome lass managing to bite a hand of her paramour’s buddy down to the bone. According to press reports, she then attempted to torch their houses, burning the buddy’s abode right down to the ground. Quite a night for Jimmytown’s highly regarded volunteer fire department. Some women just can’t take a joke, we reckon. To ease the pain, Phillipe & Jorge would normally prescribe five Rolling Rocks and a couple of shots of ginger brandy at the legendary and beloved Narragansett Café, but somehow we feel the young lady may have beat us to the punch in this regard.

Now we have the journalistic sensation of the year — newspaper publishers in love. This is about as bizarre as it gets these days with the Bud-I still in the can at Fort Dix in New Jersey. As the Other Paper’s Arthur Gregg Sulzberger (yes, of those Sulzbergers, New York Times fans) reported — and P&J were well aware — it appears that the publishers of Conanicut Island’s two weekly rags, the Jamestown Press and 02835, may have had a bit of a thang goin’ on for many years during which they were swapping hot type. (Full disclosure time: The two principals in this saga, Jeff McDonough of the Press and Ellen Mary McDonagh of 02835 are respected friends of P&J.) While rumors of their relationship have been running around Jamestown for years, we have chosen not to get involved in passing them on, until now.

Two weeks ago, McDonagh, a divorced mother of three children, went highly public, writing in 02835 about how she and an unnamed man (nudge-nudge, wink-wink) had ended their relationship after 12 years. With all due respect to Ellen Mary, it was tortured prose at best, and made one’s skin crawl, since Mr. McDonough is a married man with children, and it really involved more information than we cared to know. The breast-baring (oops, perhaps a better metaphor there, don’tcha think?) is evidently part of a book Ms. McDonagh is in the process of writing, which means we have many more installments in which to learn more about the purported couple’s sophisticated taste in sandwiches ("Turkey was our favorite.").

The buzz engulfing Jamestown is now enormous, and promises to do more to the circulation battle between the two free weeklies than running a sex ad insert. (Where would P&J get that idea?) More in this space as it appears down in the middle of Narragansett Bay, where all the children are above normal, the Portuguese American Club is a virtual City Hall, and the women keep Zippo lighters and kindling in their purses. Try to set the night on fire.

SAY IT LOUD

Phillipe & Jorge are notified of what should be a very edifying evening on February 8: "Black Lavender: An Exhibit of Writings by Black Gay Men." The opening reception will begin at 5:30 p.m. at Brown University’s John Hay Library, and the exhibit will remain open to the public Monday through Friday from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. through March 11. Yes, kiddies, it is free as well.

What it is? An extensive exhibit of books and periodicals by black gay men dating from the late 19th century, through the Harlem Renaissance, to the present day. Photographs, publicity materials, posters, and related ephemera from the private collection of bibliophile Robb Dimmick augment the exhibit. An auxiliary display of books by some 30 black gay men in Rhode Island, including academics from Brown University, Rhode Island College, the University of Rhode Island, and local freelance authors, will accompany the larger display. The event is funded by the Rhode Island Council for the Humanities.

As always, be there or be square. We can’t wait to see what Mike Tyson contributed.

WHAT WOULD ABE WATCH?

Roll over, desperate housewives. Let desperate jurists rule the day. Yes, desperate to educate Vo Dilunduhs as to the ways of their criminal justice system (What! You mean all of those folks in the jurors’ lounge watching The Jerry Springer Show when P&J were last on jury duty left a little something to be desired?), Chief Justice Frank Williams wants to put Superior Court trials on TV. Perhaps the chief justice is jealous of all the attention and ink received by Judge Frank Caprio’s Caught in Providence traffic court show. Or maybe there’s a new opening for a court show because Judge Caprio is moving on to a home improvement format, something along the lines of This Old Zoning Code. Whoops, we’re sorry, Judge.

Last week, it was announced that a little over a quarter of a million bucks of the judiciary’s budget will be plowed into outfitting one Superior Court courtroom (Courtroom No. 11 in the Licht complex in Providence, to be exact) with cameras and equipment to televise trials.

Your superior correspondents found it quite interesting how Chief Justice Williams — a noted Abraham Lincoln scholar — in announcing the planned televised trials (to be called Gavel to Gavel), offered the opinion that Honest Abe would have been supportive of the project: "I think [Lincoln] would have been right there because of the public outreach."

P&J are not certain how much "outreach" the 16th president would want to indulge in (out with Dyana Koelsch, and in with Eminem as court spokesperson, perhaps?). But we do find fascinating the chief justice’s leap into the realm of discussing Lincoln, and what he might be watching on TV if he were around today.

We’d bet that Lincoln would not be a C-SPAN wonk, but rather a fan of old Bette Davis movies (screened without commercial interruption on the Turner Classic Movies channel). Perhaps he would check in regularly with Will & Grace and enthusiastically enjoy Golden Girls reruns. Uh-oh, sounds like the Great Emancipator may well have been the superior behaviorist some claim him to be. We’d like to think so, anyway.

DIGGING HENRY

Just a little plug here for the new film review show, Henry’s Film Corner, on cable’s Independent Film Channel (IFC). Your host is Henry Rollins, the giant-necked and heavily tattooed rock ’n’ roll screamer, spoken word artist, and occasional actor. Mr. Rollins’ blunt assessment of a lot of lousy films would never get on the air elsewhere. That’s because of the "synergy" — i.e., shared ownership — between film studios and television network. The show runs numerous times during the week, so check out Henry and his decidedly honest and frequently in-your-face take on Hollywood before some decidedly un-independent corporation buys up the IFC and bounces Henry’s butt to the curb.

JUST ASKING

While this week has been colder than a nun’s nasty, as the saying goes, no place was frostier than the podium during Governor Don Carcieri’s State of the State address when The Don threw an olive branch to House Speaker Bill Murphy and turned to shake his hand. Murphy looked like he had just swallowed a habanero pepper washed down with a shot of Drano.

. . . Is there anyone in the world more foolish than Richard Hatch, the erstwhile "fat, naked guy" from the Survivor TV show, who has agreed to plead guilty to depriving the government of some of the $1 million he earned on prime time TV? We know the folks at the IRS might not be pop culture mavens, but you have to figure the light bulb would go on over one of their agents’ heads. Fortunately, wild and crazy Dick has arranged a plea bargain so he needn’t spend time in prison — where we are sure he would be a big hit — but you have to wonder what sort of hubris prompted his attempted evasion of taxes, allegedly including those, according to federal prosecutors, earned in yet another quite public venue — a radio show. Doh!

. . . P&J couldn’t help but think of Billy Crystal’s great take on Edward G. Robinson’s bit in The Ten Commandments after watching the New England Patriots take names and kick ass against the Indianapolis Colts on Sunday, January 16. NFL-endorsed Golden Boy QB Peyton Manning put all of three points on the scoreboard for his team, so as Crystal put it: "Where’s your Messiah now? Yeah, where’s your Messiah now?"

. . . Has there ever been a better passenger embarkation point for a rocket to a distant planet than Washington, DC on Inauguration Day? The nation’s capitol will be swarming with unspeakable GOP corporate fat cat swine, spending an obscene amount of money for special events (read: access and influence) while our troops in Iraq go about their business with a lack of body armor and heavy-duty protection for their Humvees. Nice priorities, Dubya.

. . . Does anyone make your skin crawl more than professional liar Condoleezza "Queen Lotsateetha" Rice? Kudos to Senators Joe Biden and Barbara Boxer for pulling her panties down in front of the American public during her confirmation hearings for secretary of state. She had the audacity to try to defend her "credibility" and "integrity." We’re not sure about your virginity, Condi, but you lost the other two traits ages ago.

THEY NEED LOU

If anything was in dire need of the services of the Phoenix’s longtime managing editor and resident pop culture guru, it’s the Sunday Arts & Leisure section of the New York Times. Two weeks ago, we were reading a story on the current Saturday Night Live cast, and we noticed a reference to the cheerleader skits of a few seasons back that featured Will Ferrell and "Molly Shannon." No, not Molly Shannon, but yes, Cheri Oteri.

We checked to make sure there was a correction the next Sunday, and just a few pages after it came a story on "downtown’s new ‘It’ boy," Murray Hill. In the body of this story we found a reference to the John Hughes film The Breakfast Club, in which one of the costars was referred to as "Judd Hirsch." No, not Judd Hirsch, Judd Nelson. The following week another correction ran.

P&J say the Times’ A&L section ought to hire our man Lou as a consultant. Sure, everyone makes mistakes, but this is the New York Times, for God’s sake, and these basic pop culture references would have never escaped Lou’s eye. Of course, we insist that Lou be hired only on a part-time consultant basis, lest the Phoenix fall apart.

Send nightshades, a smoky newsroom, and Pulitzer-grade tips to p&j[a]phx.com.