Phillipe & Jorge’s Cool, Cool World: PVD City Council Corruption, Gen. Mikey and Russia, Is that Aircraft Carrier Pointing the Wrong Way or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

, Crimetown, The Sequel?

The very good and highly recommended podcast series, “Crimetown,” about Rogue Island’s “Mobsters and Lobsters” past, may want to unpack their microphones and head down to the Providence City Council meetings. There are more than enough hacks and thugs in action to fill at least a couple broadcasts.

The city council president is the clean government-challenged Luis Aponte, who is about to be investigated by the state Ethics Commission for not recusing himself from a vote on a zoning change that would have financially benefited his landlord at the time. Oh, you mean that’s a conflict of interest? Who’da thunk it?


Aponte is also now having his campaign finances and another business deal that went sour, but from which Aponte appears to have benefited, brought under legal scrutiny.

Then we have Kevin Jackson, desperately fighting a recall effort, whose image of being led into court in handcuffs in 2016 may not be his photo of choice for Facebook and Instagram. The longtime Ward 3 councilman is accused of embezzlement, filing false documents, personal use of campaign funds – you know, the usual – especially to the tune of $127,000-plus from a local youth sports group. But hey, who better to hose than kids, provided single mothers and the disabled aren’t available to snooker.

The extent to which corruption is accepted in city council chambers is best described in the account of Jackson’s comments at a recent meeting in which Jackson said he expected to be safely back in his seat despite the recall effort, after which the other members stood and applauded him. Sounds like “There but for grace of God go I” on behalf of his colleagues if we’ve ever heard one.

“God? Yeah, I know him. Went to school with his brother. Owns a shoe store now. Hey, you want some Air Jordans? I can get ‘em for you cheap.”

The Legacy Continues

While we are at the task of promoting the wonderful Little Rhody tradition forever preserved and carried forward from a 1905 Lincoln Steffens article in McClure’s Magazine, “Rhode Island: A State for Sale,” a tip of the beret and sombrero to Middletown native Mike Flynn, disgraced former Army lieutenant general and Defense Intelligence Agency head honcho who was cashiered, but who then went on to become appointed as President Donald Delusional’s first national security advisor. (Well, after the couple from hell, the unspeakable and vile Ivanka and Jared, of course.)

Like his admiring former boss in the White House, who was quite impressed by Flynn (as he also is when someone seemingly pulls a quarter from behind his ear or “steals his nose”), Mikey appears to be a bought-and-paid-for stooge of our old pal, the often shirtless Vlad Putin. It emerges now that Mr. Flynn has received a raft of rubles from Russian interests that he failed to declare, which unfortunately falls into the category of being highly illegal.

Well, as our wonderful state flag implores our august citizenry, “Hope” – in your case you don’t end up in Leavenworth, Mr. Flynn. Thanks for carrying on a grand heritage.

The Wackiest Ship in the Navy

If there is anyone left who believes one word that comes out of the Pentagon regarding our military operations, we wish you well with your fantasies. (For corroboration, call heralded ex-Arizona Cardinal and Army Ranger Pat Tillman’s family.)

If there is indeed a “U.S. War Machine,” it is most certainly not a lie detector.

Nowhere was that in more evidence than in our recent muscle-flexing towards North Korea, the country with the only world leader whose hairstyle is more preposterous than that of our own.

While there is no one by now who doesn’t know that when Trump the Terrible’s lips are moving he’s lying, the media made hay with his announcement that a U.S. “armada” led by the Navy aircraft carrier USS Carl Vinson was steaming into the waters next to the Korean peninsula after Kim Jong-un lit off a scud missile to get our Orange Orangutan’s attention for a few minutes. Thing was – oopsy daisy – the USS Carl Vinson was heading the other way in the waters south of Indonesia, about 2,500 miles away.

Now, as we said, Donald Dumbfounded is easily confused and doesn’t mind proving it by opening his mouth. But what was disturbing was hearing this utter bullshit backed up by his Secretary of Defense, Jim “Mad Dog” Mattis, a retired Marine general. The Donald quite enjoys working with military types, a bit odd since President Pussy avoided serving his country during the Vietnam War by getting a deferment with a note from his doctor, who likely received a hefty paycheck from Donald’s daddy for his diagnosis of debilitating bone spurs in sonny-boy. (When asked about which foot the spurs were in during the presidential campaign, Trump said he couldn’t remember. Trust us, anyone who avoided service in Vietnam has the fortunate reason seared into their minds forever.)

President Pussy was creaming his jeans when he announced “Mad Dog” Mattis was his pick for Defense Secretary, thinking he had selected the “Howling Mad” member of the “A Team,” with a cigar-chomping George Peppard and blinged-out Mr. T lined up to be his deputies. Even P&J were impressed by his legitimate resume, if not the Hollywood nickname.

Unfortunately, “Mad Dog” has become “Lap Dog.” After Donald’s announcement of his armada, Lap Dog fell into line and fed the same erroneous story to the media, a true shame since the ink-stained wretches were inclined to believe him.

Now this would indicate one of two things. One, we have a Defense Secretary who doesn’t even know where one its most high-visibility ships is located or where it is heading. Or he is lying to the American public, which does not become a Marine. P&J are pretty sure you don’t holler “Semper Fi!” with your fingers crossed behind your back.

No, it seems Lap Dog has merely done what countless others in the Pentagon have done, be it “We’re winning the war,” phony body counts, “shock and awe,” “mission accomplished” or announcing whatever embarrassing and lame-brained name they give to one of our forays into a foreign country to try to fool the media and make sure the truth doesn’t get out to U.S. citizens watching from afar.

What’s next, “Operation Petticoat?” The whole thing would be laughable if it wasn’t so pathetic.

And God Laughed

Religious joke of the week:

What’s the difference between the pope and R.I. Bishop Tommy Tobin?

The pope doesn’t go around thinking he’s Bishop Tobin.

Thank you. Thank you very much.