Phillipe and Jorge’s Cool Cool World: Ad Nauseum

It’s on, mofos!

We have begun the battle of political TV ads you will be so sick of within a month you will be begging to see even more ambulance-chasing spots by the likes of The Heavy Hitter and Agent 777 instead (if you don’t by now, as they are already brain-numbing and annoying enough).

First out of the gate with TV spots was Republican gubernatorial candidate Ashley Kalus, the carpetbagger from Illinois, running for the chance to step in front of Little Rhody’s Democratic bus. She’s been followed by Helena Foulkes, the former CVS honcho who nobody knows, but is rich enough to run in the Democratic gubernatorial primary on essentially her own dime. But remember, former guv Gigi Raimondo showed how far a dollar will go.

To be successful, as P&J are certain overpaid consultants are advising the pols, you need to tick the important boxes:

  1. Family. If you’re in the race and don’t have a brood, go out and either adopt or rent a band of precious young cuties. 
  2. Public Education. Show unquestionable dedication to our public schools and the needs and joys of a proper education. Even if your own kids are tucked away at exclusive private schools away from the riff-raff one may encounter in your school district.
  3. Economy. Yes, it is the fault of everyone, except your high-end political donors, that we are being price-gouged at the gas pump, smoked by the baby formula drought and undermined by those unaffordable rents – which need correcting that you know you can’t and won’t do.
  4. I’m One of Youse. Total bullshit as a credential, but it will kill Ashley Kalus. And like Ms. Foulkes, who now uses her Italian family name of Buonanno to possibly capture the Federal Hill vote, candidates will work that ethnic/gender/local/legacy angle. And as we have previously said, P&J’s ordained candidate, General Treasurer Seth Magaziner, in his Congressional race, had better move into the district toot sweet. And rightly so.
  5. What a genius you are and always have been. Whether she/he is a Golden Gloves boxer or serious ailment sufferer who has engaged in facing down opponents or beating all odds, best try to not be seen blowing your own horn. As if that is possible for a politician.
  6. I’ve never been arrested for shady deals. Well, besides being a possible lie waiting to happen in all camps, it’s touch-and-go whether this might matter. Although, the fact that Gov. Dan “Who’s He?” McKee – and his deal with his cronies in securing a multi-million-dollar state contract for them one week after he was sworn in – is being investigated by the state’s attorney general and FBI, does not bode well. We’ll see when the gloves come off down the stretch.

Spot the Difference

It’s time for this edition of Phillipe and Jorge’s “Spot the Difference” competition. This is inspired by reading People magazine at our local laundromat, where you better habla español with the wonderful people who run it.  But it is entertaining – in a bizarre way – to read about the “celebrities” People covers (marriages, births, deaths, drug problems, faux traumas, romances designed to fail, etc) among ostensibly famous folks we couldn’t pick out of a police lineup, if we aren’t being too out of touch with who’s what is where, when and how in the modern social media world.

Being your globally aware and superior correspondents, if not important “influencers” (pardon us while we wretch at that term), we have chosen an international theme, in which you can try to identify the differences between two major sources and influences of power. Here ya go, puzzle fans:

  1. The ruling power in Afghanistan, the Taliban, with their trampling on rights of women and subjugating them to totally restrictive laws, which the US government has said they abhor.
  2. The US Supreme Court, with their proposed trampling of the rights of women and subjugating them to totally restrictive laws (take a bow, Texas and Oklahoma governors and legislators) that the US people have said they abhor.


The difference is that, while both are brutally repressive, wear long, flowing oversized outfits/robes, and are so full of themselves you need to coat the doorways with Vaseline to get their inflated heads into a room, the Taliban wear those turbans and beards with pride, while the Supreme Court justices choose to go bareheaded. Although both the unspeakable sexual predator, incompetent and totally compromised by his wife Clarence “Frogman” Thomas and Donald Trump’s hired housemaid, Amy Coney Barrett, could use a shave, notably (and preferably) of their brains’ frontal lobes.

(A tip of the beret and sombrero to England’s exquisite Private Eye magazine for the kick-start.)

Phillipe and Jorge’s Cool Cool World: Insane Over Ukraine

Apocalypse Now?

Little more can be said about the atrocities being carried out in Ukraine. They are being led by Russian President Vladimir Putin, Donald Trump’s best pal, who has morphed into a Hitler for our age.

Phillipe and Jorge have lived through plenty of what seemed to be scary moments in our own presidency, from the criminally deranged Richard Nixon and absurd moron Dubya Bush, controlled by his shameless puppeteers Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld. And as for Trump, how low can you go when it comes to disgracing America on the world stage?

But the Russian invasion of Ukraine has upped the ante of murder and oppression to new levels of war crimes and soulless destruction that is beyond frightening. And the threat of nuclear weapons controlled by a madman has made real fears of an obliterating war worldwide.

Putin now tops the list of megalomaniacs in power, alongside Kim Jong Undeuxtrois in North Korea, ahead of the usual cluster of dictatorial South American and African neo-fascists who control their countries, imprison and torture opponents, and starve their people between shopping for mega-yachts. 

Mr. Kurtz? He ain’t dead.

Is Putin sane? Not a chance. Did you check out the 50-foot-long table he sits at the opposite end of when speaking to foreign emissaries? (And best bets are Trump has already ordered one for Mar-a-Lago.) We also like how he plays hockey and somehow scores six goals in a game – the equivalent of the fat midget Kim’s claims to have played golf for the first time and gotten 18 holes-in-one. Oh, c’mon, just throw a couple birdies in there, you despicable shithead.

What is most frustrating is the feeling that we are watching a group of people getting attacked on the street, outnumbered two-to-one, as we watch safely from behind a huge window. This helpless feeling makes you think there comes a time when you have to shatter that window, and jump into the fray to help those being beaten to death.

Putin won’t let up. It’s time we stepped up.

Who Are These People?

In the most high-profile political races in Little Rhody this year, what stands out most is this: Who the eff are these people running for critical offices?

Looking at the gubernatorial race, anyone who can name all the potential candidates gets free Awful-Awfuls for life. Current guv Dan “Who He?” McKee stumbled into his office to replace the desperate political climber Gigi Raimondo with a resume you could print on a cocktail napkin. And he has done little, save for seemingly alienating most of his highest-level advisors at the Department of Health over the COVID-19 pandemic and how to deal with it. (Miss ya already, Dr. Alexander-Scott.)

Fortunately, P&J’s fave rave, current Secretary of State Nellie Gorbea, has jumped in to challenge “Who He?” and if you don’t vote for her, turn your brain in for examination. (Whoever the GOP puts up as a candidate is essentially DOA, but if they are smart they will trouser any leftover campaign donations in return for being cannon fodder.)

And in the looie governor race, P&J are delighted that state Rep. Deb Ruggiero has thrown her golf cap into the ring. She may not be familiar to statewide voters at this point, but her work on Aquidneck Island and in South County gives her impeccable credentials which we are sure will extend to the state as a whole.

Even better, unless we have totally misread these young and dynamic young ladies, they will be a formidable and powerful team. Neither has a big ego, and no doubt Nellie could easily work alongside Deb, unlike the way Raimondo treated McKee like a valet parking attendant.

The only other race of interest is for the Congressional District 2 spot in DC being vacated by Jim Langevin.  Former Cranston Mayor Allen Fung, a nice guy and not totally incompetent, has jumped in for the Republicans (no doubt pinching his nose and holding his breath).

He’ll have to face General Treasurer Seth Magaziner, whom P&J endorse, but with one major caveat: you better move to District 2 toot sweet, Seth. There’s a reason why Narragansett Beer’s successful slogan with the folks in the Biggest Little has always been, “Hi Neighbor!” So you better become a neighbor quickly if you expect any votes from that constituency.

Blind Curves

Phillipe and Jorge pulled into our local drive-through ATM at the bank the other day, and got our usual chuckle out of the fact that on the touch-plates where you enter your account number, etc. instructions are also provided in Braille.

Now we may be missing something here, and correct us if we’re wrong, but it seems to us that the idea of a blind person driving may be a bit frightening, even with best intentions of providing all-access availability to the public. There are enough idiotic and dangerous blind-drunk drivers in Vo Dislun that we needn’t encourage those who legitimately can’t see to fall into the mix.

Be afraid. Be very afraid. But then again, this is our Little Rhody. Deal with it.

The opinions herein do not necessarily represent those of Motif.

Phillipe & Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: Licensed to choose

The People’s Choice

There is an old RI adage that says there are a million people in the state, therefore a million different opinions on every subject you can bring up.

Hence the incredibly important and critical issue of what our new license plates should look like, which is now being brought to Vo Dislunders to vote upon. While we love the idea of open public input on any government decisions, let us perhaps wait a beat.

In past years, Phillipe and Jorge have relied upon our chauffeur, Bruno, to get us the vanity plates for our limousine. During his last attempt, he came up with the quite notable and applaudable “PNJ.” He then explained that his first choice, “ASSHOLES,” was unfortunately too long.

So now we, the great unwashed, have been given the choice among five different plates to replace the none-too-beloved gray “Wave” plates. While this is a great nod to public opinion, here’s what can happen (hilariously).

In 2016, the British government asked for a name from the concerned taxpayers of the UK for a new, gigantic and highly publicized polar research vessel through its Natural Resources Research Council via best suggestions. What they ended up with, through a screamingly laughable result, was a vast majority of voters choosing “Boaty McBoatface.” Supporters of the movement even asked the world-famous TV environmentalist icon Sir David Attenborough if he minded if it were christened “Sir Boaty McBoatface.”

Needless to say, the public’s demand didn’t fly. (You chickens.)

But as far as P&J are concerned, the only one of the plates with any sense of dignity, save for Buddy McCianciface, is the one with the dark blue panel at the top with a sailboat and Newport Bridge laid back in the heart of the plate. And we remain confounded that our personal submission, with the highlighted top panel saying “Lobsters and Mobsters,” and featuring a man on one side in a black suit and fedora pointing a gun at a lobster with its claws in the air on the opposite side, did not receive full consideration. Sorry, Raymond.

But what do we know? Except that your opinion, not ours, sucks.

Motif Told You So

Now that the feds have joined R.I. Attorney General Peter Neronha in investigating the blatantly rigged contract bid from Governor Dan (Who He?) McKee’s buddies at the improbable “ILO Group” within days of his inauguration, may we take you back to what Phillipe and Jorge wrote in this space months ago, under the title “Ticking Bomb”:

Keep your eye on the potential political explosion over the awarding of a $5.2 million contract to the neophyte consulting firm ILO Group for education reform and school reopening strategies. As far as scandals go, this is a full Rhode Island…

“ILO was not formed until after Governor Dan “Who He?” McKee took office from Gina Raimondo.  And ILO was not only full to the rim with McKee acolytes and backers, but was given the hands-on guidance of his staffers on how to submit the bid for the contract.

“The Department of Education and statehouse legislators have looked at this deal with raised eyebrows and sideways glances, but they know just what went on between ILO and McKee’s crew. Now the state police and attorney general Peter Neronha have also started looking into this rotten fish.

“…You sleep with one eye open, Danny Boy.”

P&J are always at your service. No need for applause.

Purple Reign

As unabashed fans of British royalty (because who could be more of a trove of cable TV fodder and hoots), P&J saw the royal family take a kick in the chops when they sent Prince Wills and the immaculate Kate, (whatever her title is, but she is still drop-dead beautiful, which will excuse any future trysts with royal handlers (geddit?)) down to the Caribbean to try to make nice with their former colonies, most of which, like Barbados, are in the process of not having to kiss a 95-year old dowager’s bustle.

And why not? Cuckolded Prince Charles is a joke in England, still talking to his plants while enduring his dreadful wife Camilla (the cigarette-smoking, gin-drinking future Queen Consort and focus of Charles’ insane love letter, “I want to be your tampon”); And howsabout Randy Andy, the pedophile prince, who has disgraced the monarchy, most laughably with his photo of him with a 17-year old Jeffrey Epstein sex trafficked child, saying he never knew her nor could identify her. (You gonna believe me or your lying eyes?) And Harry and Meghan have also lost the royal plot, as they have become L.A. media whores of the first order.

No surprise, really. When P&J went to Sri Lanka (formerly Ceylon when the Brits were in town years ago), our colleagues there told us a joke that was known throughout all the British colonies:

Q: Why did the sun never set on the British Empire?

A: Because God never trusted Queen Victoria in the dark.

Ba-da-bam! Rule, Brittania (heh, heh).

Donald’s Dance

Today’s words of wisdom come from a quote attributed to the New York Times, via The Week magazine.

It is an old Russian proverb:

“If you invite a bear to dance, it’s not you who decides when the dance is over. It’s the bear.”

Congrats to Donald Trump for offering to do the Philly Stroll with Vlad Putin. We assume no crotch grabs were involved, unless it was by Vlad, because he already had America’s former number one sissy Cadet Bone Spurs and Putin sycophant, The Donald, by the balls.

Phillipe & Jorge: Tips for nips and soup nazis

In the Nip of Time

As observers of the current scene with the highest credentials, Phillipe & Jorge are well aware of today’s legislative priorities: climate change; racial (in)justice; childhood poverty; insider deals; and political corruption, to name just a few.

But we must also remark that in our learned opinion, one of the key legislative issues that faces all Vo Dislunders today: that of Democratic state representative David Bennett of Warwick’s bill to halt the sales of “nip” bottles of alcohol. (Think airplane flights. You’re welcome.) That is because he has seen many littering his neighborhood.

As the preposterous saying goes, “Guns don’t kill people; people kill people.” Well, nips don’t litter; people litter. Got that?

Perhaps Rep. Bennett has had a nip problem in his past? Why this assault on drinkers who aren’t shopping the liquor store aisles looking for expensive and exotic Burgundy bottles or Pappy Van Winkle’s three-digit-dollars fifths of bourbon? Instead, Bennett is putting forth his bill because of littering, trash which he believes is primarily nips.

Nips are a staple of liquor stores, hardly Big Biz, but relied upon − some owners say up to 20 percent − for their sales. Many are conveniently located right next to the cash register, in the way supermarkets have candy bars and gum right on your way out, for those spur of the moment sales; in this case front-loading for a big party or date.

And nips are cheap, about $1 a pop, which make them very valuable to folks who can’t and probably shouldn’t opt for a hip-sized half-pint of vodka. Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker, as the saying goes. So those most affected will be package store owners, through no fault of their own.

We suggest that if Rep. Bennett is a true crusader against litter, he take on the fast-food outlets whose empty wrappers and cups are omnipresent in streets and parking lots … and see how quickly he’s staring down the barrels of the white-shoe lawyers from those industries. C’mon, tough guy, you go first.

This bill is, on the face of it, laughable. But who says surrealism and silliness are dead on Smith Hill? Shot, please, no chaser.  Rep. Bennett will be cleaning up afterward.

GOP Word Play

Ya gotta love the wonderful way members of the Trump-ass-kissing Republican Party use the English language. 

Who else could spout mind-altering stuff that, on the bright side, leaves Phillipe & Jorge on the floor laughing and in disbelief at what comes out of the mouths of these frothing idiots without any filter to avoid sounding barking mad, from folks who otherwise think “dumb” doesn’t have a “b” at the end. (Tip o’ the beret and sombrero to Dan Quayle, who was way out in front on this defining scenario years ago.) So we have fun.

The first howling instance came when Georgia’s U.S. Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene said that House Speaker Nancy Pelosi was siccing the authorities on people who refused to wear masks in a way reminiscent of the “Gazpacho police” of Nazi Germany. Er, uno momento, Senorita Marge, those Aryans were the “Gestapo,” and probably would have also sent any Spanish chilled soup chefs to the ovens, Jewish or not, but close enough for your fascist friends. Oh, never mind. 

This woman is even stupider than Sarah Palin, if you can believe that (or is it possible?). But keep an eye on that cilantro to habanero balance, boys and girls, or Pelosi’s storm troopers will be on your ass. (Oh yeah, we almost forgot to mention queen of the inbred crackers Rep. Gazpacho is also the one who said the California fires this year were started by lasers from space. “That proves it,” by P&J’s long-established Plan 9 from Outer Space credentials.)

Part 2 – Now we had the Republican National Committee saying that the January 6 insurrection at the Capitol building was “legitimate political discourse.”  Well, perhaps the Capitol Police and other authorities who were injured or died afterward might like to have a say about this “discourse.” This was so offensive and crude that even the wattled and bourbon-soaked old grifter Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell condemned this stance by the GOP. But P&J can hardly wait to see how the Republican Trump butt-boys and girls deal with this in the upcoming mid-year elections.

Now here is “legitimate political discourse” from your Casa Diablo geniuses: The Republican Party is a gutless, brainless, destructive bane on America. Suck on our discourses. Legitimately. 

Words to Live By

“Oh, those Americans − the repose, the calm, they know it not.” – Hercule Poirot in Agatha Christie’s The Mystery of the Blue Train.

“(You want) Heineken?! Heineken?!?! PABST BLUE RIBBON!!!” – Dennis Hopper’s drug-crazed psychopath Frank Booth, counseling Kyle MacLachlan’s character on his beer of choice in the legendary David Lynch film Blue Velvet.

Phillipe and Jorge’s Cool Cool World: Change in the cold air

The Lady Vanishes

We may have to bring back from the grave Alfred Hitchcock, who produced the movie “The Lady Vanishes,” to figure out the unexpected departure of Dr. Nicole Alexander-Scott (Motif broke this news at motifri.com/nas-resigns) from her highly visible role as director of Little Rhody’s Department of Health.

Since the onset of COVID-19 and its variants, Dr. Alexander-Scott gained a great deal of star-quality exposure in the media − especially at then-governor Gigi Raimondo’s weekly press conferences. She commanded everyone’s attention, bringing facts and figures and updates on how the scourge was infecting Vo Dislunders, and carried the presence of someone you kept your eyes and ears locked on when she spoke.

But… in a stunning move… she has quit as head honcho of RIDOH without full explanation. She will serve out her term as interim head and then assume a role as a consultant, but the bombshell has already gone off.  Now the questions as to “why?” will be meat for speculation until the real reason(s) are sussed out.

The favorite theory in this betting pool is a major falling-out with Governor Dan “Who He?” McKee, be it personalities, policies or both. Who He? Has already been the target of none-too-subtle attacks on his lack of leadership on the COVID-19 crisis by two state officials, General Treasurer Seth Magaziner and Secretary of State Nellie Gorbea, both of whom he will likely face in the upcoming Democratic Party primary in the race to be elected guv in 2022. And in The Biggest Little, where the GOP is essentially nonexistent, the winner there will cakewalk into the top seat on Smith Hill, so the long knives are already out.

The hits will keep on coming, but P&J figure that leaks from the State House will doubtless provide ongoing information (along with lies and rumors) about the doc’s decision. The exhibited strength of Dr. Alexander-Scott’s character makes it unlikely she will spill any more beans, and simply tell the prying media to eff off.

But this is far from over, so stay tuned, boys and girls. Ain’t we got fun?

Note: As Motif went to press, Deputy Director Tom McCarthy also announced he was leaving RIDOH. What’s up, docs?

Let the Games Begin

Phillipe & Jorge love the shameless world of politics, so we were aquiver when our U.S. Rep. Jim Langevin made the surprise announcement that he would not pursue re-election this year. Jim was a reliable moderate Democrat in D.C. through the years he served, his most notable badge of honor being his vote against the Bush/Cheney/Rumsfeld lying and manufactured Iraq War. (Hi, Condoleeza!)

But now we will get to see the best-fevered aspirations; drooling hunger for power; naked, preening narcissism; and total, wild-eyed desperation and need for attention among those who will try to jump into Langevin’s seat in the House of Representatives in Washington. We can’t wait. On your mark, get set, go, all you fantasizing future candidates.

Winnebacome, Winnebago 

P&J lost a longtime friend with the peaceful death at the beginning of January of a Little Rhody treasure, Jon Campbell.

No description of his genius and varied talents can do him proper justice. He was a musician (in the R.I. Music Hall of Fame); an artisan in many fields, notably shell jewelry and Uillean pipes (Irish bagpipes); pyrotechnic wizard for independent movies; connoisseur of all things Little Rhody; and a prince of South County. But most of all he was a sweetheart of a guy, and a total hot shit whom P&J always greatly admired.

He played in bands and soloed all over the state for decades, often with his music partner Joe Houlihan. His razor-sharp sense of humor led to his famous song, “Winnebacome, Winnebago,” an anthem for South County that hilariously skewered summertime tourists and out-of-state fishermen (and Jon knew his local fishing brethren well), and is really a tongue-in-cheek ode to SoCo. We’d like to be able to print the entire lyrics, but you can Google the song up and P&J believe it is required listening for any proud resident of The Biggest Little. To wit, an excerpt:

…And it’s Winnebacome, Winnebago
When the flea bites, the jellyfish stings, are you feeling sad?
Watch a mobsta eat a lobsta, are you feeling sad?

They’ve got sand in their eyes and a burn on their thighs
And the last tuna grindah is covahed with flies,
There’s a squid in the sink, the TV’s on the blink
They’ve got a bucket of crabs that’s beginning to stink.
Citronella, beach umbrella…
Are you feeling sad?

And it’s Winnebacome, Winnebago
And there’s no place to park anyplace that you go,
So let’s count license plates from the Midwestern states
And hope after Labor Day things will get straight…

  • Jon Campbell; 1951-2022

Boy, will you be missed, Jon. Thanks for the memories.

Things we’ve forgotten: And things we wish we could forget

Memory Loss

One of the worst things affecting the sold-out Providence Urinal these days, which the late and beloved lunatic legend Buddy “Vincent A.” Cianci correctly referred to as the “Providence Pamphlet,” given its having the heft of a baby’s pacifier, is not the takeover by the outside force that publishes USA Today, but its current lack of what is called “institutional memory.”

Gone from the Urinal are people like Bob Kerr, Scott MacKay, Charlie Bakst, Alan Rosenberg, Bill Reynolds and others who could give you a living synopsis of the state and stories related to what is now happening in Little Rhody and how they related to the past. These stories were as close to a history class about The Biggest Little as you could find, exploring the links between bygone events and today’s news.

Today’s Urinal is so lightweight as to be laughable, especially when they have the audacity to sell this fish wrap (although it might be tough to cover even a good-sized menhaden) for $3 a day, and $6 on Sunday. A copy of the New York Times Sunday edition is a day’s worth+ of reading and is the same $6, while you can get through a copy of the Urinal in 15 minutes. Thank you, USA Today.

The new executive editor, David Ng, is quite taken with himself and his experience, even to the point of dropping the name of famed journalist Peter Hamill, and the insecurity and self-absorption of that alone should warn people off. And you know he would not have a clue if someone asked him about “Raymond.” And while P&J are certain that new staff addition Amy Russo is a sweet, charming and wonderful person, the fact the Urinal considers her column about what it is like to move to Rhode Island from New York City feature-worthy is insipid, essentially taking time to inform locals about what they already know. Tell us more, Amy, you fahhh-scinate us.

And on the short side, how this clown Victor Davis Hanson is allowed to write for anything more than a QAnon leaflet is absurd, but he was given voice by the Urinal after its transition, becoming a featured columnist to “balance” the supposedly liberal op-ed opinions prior to the Urinal dumping all editorials. Gutsy move, or should we say shameless (and we’d add “whores” here, but that would be impolite).

So please hang in there, the lovely and fragrant queen of the State House, Kathy Gregg, one of three people in the state who can understand each year’s budget; the relentless G. Wayne Miller; and Alex Kuffner, the excellent environmental reporter who carries on a proud tradition on Fountain Street from Bob Frederickson to Peter Lord to Alex himself, highlighting that in the Ocean State, it might be a good idea to focus on natural resources issues, which even the morons in charge might twig to.

Other than those all-stars, may we say to the nattering nabobs (tip of the hat, Spiro) at the Urinal, go eff yourselves and keep counting the $3 a day for absolute crap. You have ruined a wonderful and respected RI institution, and that is a memory everyone will definitely retain.


If you are glued to the old-school broadcast TV, as are Phillipe & Jorge, you know you are spending nearly one-third of your time watching advertisements. And what a joy, n’est-ce pas?

Because of this, P&J consider ourselves connoisseurs of promotions for the fast-food chains and ambulance-chasing lawyers commandeering our intervals away from such highbrow shows as Downtown Abbey and Young Sheldon. (Note to NAMBLA: we watch the latter because it’s actually amusing, as longtime fans of Big Bang Theory. So piss off!)

But P&J have laughed out loud at the most recent attempt by Big Pharma to draw in customers via yet another phony “disorder” to treat the Great Unwashed (remember “Restless Leg Syndrome,” folks?). This is “Peyronie’s Disease,” and a cure to correcting a gentleman who may have a crink in his penis. (Apologies, but they said it first.)

While P&J would normally dismiss this as your usual ad agency scam to get the OK from a bunch of empty suits right after their three-martini lunches, we lit up when we heard one of the pitches on how to correct this devastating disease that threatens male humanity (and female, according to how far you want to “extend” this – insert snare drum rim-shot and audience applause here).

What caught P&J’s ears was that part of the professional advice given to PD sufferers was “stretching and straightening” exercises of the crooked organ.  Well, take it from us, men have been practicing these “stretching and straightening” maneuvers on their johnsons by themselves for centuries with little or no advice from anyone named “Peyronie.” (“If that is indeed your name, Colonel Bat Guano.“– See, Dr. Strangelove, as P&J quickly go off course.)

Phillipe and Jorge’s Cool Cool World: Greta changes in climate & deforming RI schools

Out of the Mouths of Babes…

We all now live in The World of Lies. Past and recent exemplars of this are: “The check’s in the mail”; an extremely obscene promise concerning oral sex; anything issued by the Pentagon; and, of course, anytime Donald Trump’s lips are moving. 

But right up there are the most disgusting, shameless, and bloviating pronouncements put out by the recent United Nations climate change summit following their vacuous meeting in Glasgow. False claims of mighty success towards halting climate change were issued by more empty suits than you would find at a Brooks Brothers fire sale. (The U.S. “ambassador” to this farce was John Kerry. Say no more.)

People serious about changing the way we live saw no real progress except for absurd promises. These were essentially broken before the delegates boarded their planes, laughing all the way. 

Hey, Californians, still toasting marshmallows over your fires? What’s the swimming like in your basements and down Main Street, you Midwest and Southern riverine dwellers? And how ‘bout them twisters in Texas and Oklahoma? Yeah, everything’s bigger in Texas.

This Glasgow summit was the fitting equivalent of what is known in Great Britain as a “Glasgow kiss.” That’s a head butt to the face of the person you are squaring up to, designed to break the nose of your opponent. Oopsy-daisy.

The quote of the week came from Greta Thunberg, the famous 18-year old climate change crusader for sanity and the future, who has more guts and brass balls than any of the UN and national government delegates. She spoke her mind to 100,000 demonstrators, “We say no more ‘blah, blah, blah.’ No more whatever the fuck they’re doing in there.”

Out of the mouths of babes…

The Ticking Bomb

Keep your eye on the potential political explosion over the awarding of a $5.2 million contract to the neophyte consulting firm ILO Group for education reform and school reopening strategies. As far as scandals go, this is a full Rhode Island. (And huge kudos to WPRI Channel 12 for uncovering this farrago and continuing to pursue it.) And we’ve only had a peek under the tent flap so far, it appears.

ILO was not formed until after Governor Dan “Who He?” McKee took office from Gina Raimondo.  And ILO was not only full to the rim with McKee acolytes and backers, but was given the hands-on guidance of his staffers on how to submit the bid for the contract. WPRI discovered that ILO’S actual bent windfall was millions more than other more established firms. Experience? We don’t need no steeenking experience… especially when it involves the future of Little Rhody’s children, right?

At issue was the governor’s staffers involvement with ILO as a bidder, likely to craft the Request for Proposals (RFP) to their specs. P&J have had experience in issuing RFPs, and if you do a crooked one, you are able to make sure it has elements in it that favor a particular firm. To be a bit over the top, if Firm X has three albinos in upper management who speak Kiswahili, that requirement will be deftly hidden in the RFP, but can essentially screw other bidders who lack the Kiswahili-speaking albinos in their executive suite. “Sorry, we really needed to see that diversity for you to get hired.”

Because this RFP looked like a real hummer, the bid was turned into a Master Price Agreement, in which the state threw a bone to the firm WestEd, which has worked with state educators in the past and undercut ILO’s bid by what is surmised to be about $1 million, while making baby ILO rich.

The Department of Education and statehouse legislators have looked at this deal with raised eyebrows and sideways glances, but they know just what went on between ILO and McKee’s crew. Now the state police and attorney general Peter Neronha have also started looking into this rotten fish. You can expect our poised and persistent secretary of state, Nellie Gorbea, to keep this issue in the fore of the public eye and tear Who He? a new one, as she will likely face him in the 2022 Democratic gubernatorial primary.

You sleep with one eye open, Danny Boy.

Vaxes? We Don’t Need No Stinking Vaxes

Dear devoted readers: As you have probably surmised by now, after 42 consecutive years of writing our column (longest in Little Rhody journalistic history), bringing you up-to-date on whose what is where, when and how, Phillipe & Jorge are invincible. Which is why we refuse to be vaccinated against the bogus coronavirus scare.

We have reached this decision after rigorous examination of the scientific aspects of Covid-19, as provided by right wing podcasts, which are undoubtedly the best possible source of true information about this faux pandemic. Here are our carefully and thoroughly vetted reasons (confirmed by some bloke we ran into while waiting for a bus in Kennedy Plaza, after he bummed a cigarette off of us) for why our essential freedoms should not be taken away by some fly-by-night doctors and immunologists who are merely perpetuating this hoax, as well as lying about their world-class credentials.

  1. This is just a mainstream media campaign, backed by our federal government, to fill the coffers of the already obscenely rich Big Pharma firms by producing millions of doses of anti-Covid vaccines that are really drawn directly from the water in public swimming pools and fountains.
  2. Every dose of the various vaccines contains a microchip that will allow the government and Mark Zuckerberg (oops, redundant) to track all citizens wherever they are at any time, and pass that locator chip on to their children and read your thoughts.
  3. The feds will also know whether or not you prefer a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon to a box of cheap rose wine, and turn you into a human bobblehead if you ever speak out against vaccines. (This is incontrovertible truth, since after a couple, two, t’ree malt liquor 40s, numerous shots of Jagermeister, and a quart or two of Pernod and grapefruit cocktails, we have actually seen this happen right before our eyes.)
  4. All results of Covid-19 deaths in the U.S. have been falsified. The only six podcast-certified deaths were a handful of bass fishermen in the Deep South who bit off the heads of some of the fish they caught, resulting in nearly instantaneous death since the fish were the poisonous snakeheads that were trying to take over the world.

So in the famous words from the legendary movie, Plan 9 from Outer Space, “That proves it!” Phillipe & Jorge salute the astute who have rejected the idea of feeding into the elitist global cabal that is perpetuating this coronavirus myth with the goal of achieving world dominance, and allowing your selfish and moronic selves and your unmasked children to infect enormous and innocent numbers of the public with suffering and horrific deaths. (Is this last bit  right? Sounds a bit off-script, no?)

(Note to the extremely gullible: While the above is obviously b.s., P&J are both fully vaccinated and encourage — if not threaten — everyone who is at this stage unprotected to step up and get your jabs toot sweet, or we will have to horsewhip you to within an inch of your stupid lives on the steps of your holier-than-thou or totally ignorant residences. You’re welcome.)

Bag People

If you stuffed everyone in the U.S. Congress, the executive branch, and the Supreme Court, and put them in a huge bag and then hit it any number of times with a big baseball bat, you would never fail to connect with a greedy, self-serving, power-hungry, pathetic soul who deserved their bruises or cracked skulls.

The latest example of this has been the inability of Congress to pass infrastructure and health/social care bills put forward by the Biden administration. This is supposedly his “legacy” agenda, (according to hysterical media looking for a new story line) which, since it is barely into his first year, is absurd.The spineless GOP Senators obviously fear the man behind the screen, the frothing, certifiable Donald Trump. Can no one come forward from the Republicans and do the right thing? No, then they wouldn’t be able to hang with the cool kids anymore.

Please start manufacturing that big bag now. And have it made in the USA, eh, Donald and Ivanka?

Disgrace the Nation

In the spirit of Hurricane Henri and the fall of Kabul, in this column we will blow hard and piss all over everything, and move ahead with no idea what we’re doing and without any attempts at apology.

The very visual coverage of the horrific botched withdrawal of American troops and civilians − along with our courageous native allies − from the international graveyard that is Afghanistan (hands up, Great Britain and Russia) has been numbing to anyone following this debacle. Thanks to gutless politicking and clueless and misguided decision-making, as P&J go to press we are just trying to digest the ISIS-directed deadly suicide bombings in Kabul and await more of the same.

(And when it comes to humanitarian aid, P&J have taken to heart the comment from a now-forgotten source that instead of politicizing humanitarian aid, we should try humanizing politics. Got that, President Biden and everyone in Congress?)

Your superior correspondents refer back to the CBS dramedy series, “The United States of Al,” which subtly and presciently took on the plight of America’s in-country allies, who now face torture and death for assisting our country in one of our most embarrassing and humiliating forays into foreign nation-building. We would also like to thank the good folks at the Pentagon, who kept up their grand tradition of lying to the public and the pols as to how many brave U.S. military lives were lost in a rigged game, and how we were always inches away from success.

In “The United States of Al,” the storyline is focused on an interpreter (Al) who worked as a civilian with a US Marine’s unit in Afghanistan, but then came to the States to live in a comrade-in-arms’ house. Some of the nuanced jokes made by Al would, for example, discuss how long it took him to get papers to come to the US in recognition of his long, frontline support of our troops, putting his ass on the line alongside our Marines. We are hearing about those now-unfunny circumstances in abundance these days, and trust us, nobody’s laughing.

While this “disgrace the nation” right in our cringing faces continues, apologies seem like very weak tea to P&J, and especially to those Afghan families’ faces who we have seen on video wide-eyed and crying in fear of their possible fates, while all they see is our backs. Shame on us as a whole.

Pornography Section

Call it “weather porn” or “fear porn,” but the arrival of Hurricane (cum Tropical Storm) Henri on August 22 gave Little Rhody’s TV stations the chance to fan both their feathers and the fire among the citizenry.

Local weather forecasters never seem happier than when they are addressing potential natural disasters. As of the Friday prior to Henri’s Sunday grand entrance, grinning meteorologists were sending the tacit message that everyone should be doing the bread-and-milk samba ASAP, and don’t forget to get gas and more toilet paper.

This unspoken appeal to our worse instincts in advance of an unpredictable weather crisis is a dog whistle ramping up of fear of the worst, hiding under the guise of “be prepared.” Well, if you are typical New Englanders — especially residents of the Ocean State — and don’t know what to do without being guided by some talking hairdo on TV, it’s time to head to Omaha.

And as often happens, Henri managed to miss most of Rhode Island. Jamestown perhaps took the worst hit, with total power outage for all residents and six big-time sailboats snapping their moorings and washing up on the shore looking like an oversized surfers’ beach party. Residents also emptied all the gas from the town’s only gas station and all the cash in the in-town ATMs. Yet another Comet Kohoutek scenario overblown by the media to the nth degree. 

In the future, hopefully someone at TV stations will decide to take the route besides that of a shock-and-horror, “Oh my god, it’s pornography, it will destroy us all!” response to nasty weather events, which will be getting more intense as climate change sinks its talons into our lives, and come on with more of a reasoned, “Hey, this could possibly be a pisser of a storm, but you’ve got it covered, right?”

And from P&J’s experience, if you want reliable info, just find someone who has the good sense to track the weather on their cellphone and make reasonable and informed decisions, instead of running around like well-dressed, made-up Chicken Littles, squawking about a possible apocalypse.

Are You Not Entertained?: The river wasn’t the only thing on fire when Who He and Elorza squared off

Oooh, you bitch!

The British would call it, with a dismissive sneer and a smile, “handbags at 10 paces.”

That about sums up the much-inflated confrontation between Providence Mayor Jorge Elorza and Governor Dan “Who He?” McKee at a recent press conference for the illustrious WaterFire. A lot of heated blather, especially from the diminutive Elorza, who we would say acted like his hair was on fire, save for the fact he has little to burn up top. To Phillipe and Jorge, the best part of the videotaped spat was the intervention of one of McKee’s bodyguards, who looked amazingly like Steven Schirripa, best known for his role in “The Sopranos” as Uncle Junior’s caretaker, Bobby “Bacala.” Now if “Who He?” could find a way to get Paulie Walnuts on his security team, he’d have our votes forever.

The cause of the dispute was the Providence teachers union contract, although some viewed it as a pre-planned PR stunt to show the diminuto Jorge as a tough guy who was standing up for his community. Maybe, maybe not. Just as likely was that Hizzoner wanted to kick off what will undoubtedly be a primary race for the Democratic candidacy for governor in 2022 in which Elorza and McKee will face off. (And P. and J. hope both will get their butts kicked by current Secretary of State Nellie Gorbea, who has already announced her official candidacy for that slot.)

So calm down, boys, although a shrieking, arms-flapping, wincing and backpedaling slapfest among politicians just can’t be beat for entertainment value.

Jackie, Jackie

Phillipe and Jorge are longtime fans of Borscht Belt comedians. (For you youngsters, imagine a landlocked cruise ship full of Jewish passengers planted in the Catskills.) So we were saddened to learn of the recent passing of Borscht Belt legend (and former rabbi) Jackie Mason. Mason’s self-deprecating humor and stylized Yiddish accent were a big hit in the Catskills before he went on to New York City where he had a chequered, but always humorous, career in stage and TV.

One of his most hilarious bits was about his inferiority complex. A great example was the shtick that went, “I was so self-conscious that when I went to a football game and the players went into a huddle, I thought they were talking about me.”

Rhode Block

Many Vo Dislunders P. and J. have spoken with in the past few years have said they no longer travel to Block Island in the summer because it is simply overrun by tourists. And with locals’ well-known disdain for outsiders, this isn’t a huge surprise.

But you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet.

As this column goes to press, the town council of New Shoreham, which is the official name of The Block, will decide whether to make indoor mask-wearing at public establishments mandatory. As we have all seen since masks became the world’s most controversial accessory, this is a ticking time bomb for Block Island. Enforcing such a law on opinionated tourists from afar is a guarantee of multiple confrontations between merchants and the great unwashed, many of whom can’t pronounce, never mind spell, the word “couth.” (And as far as enunciation, just imagine Joe Pesci’s version of “youths” in “My Cousin Vinny,” which comes out “’utes.” “Hey, get some coot, wouldjuz?”)

The alternative that New Shoreham’s town fathers and mothers are considering is that wearing of masks becomes a “request.” Good luck with that, in a state where the most common polite request made of others is “Go fuck yourself.”