Benjamin Button at the State House
Now that we have gotten over the joy of seeing the Dems take over the US House -- with the exception being the incredibly off-putting and clapped-out speaker, Nancy Pelosi, still in charge — we are dismayed that our local Democrats have re-established “Thick Nick” Mattiello as our own House leader. And, as most people know, the most powerful politician in the state (sorry, Gigi).
This is called regression, in its full glory, not unlike that of the Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Having Thick Nick and his Senate equal, Rubbers Ruggerio, running the show on Smith Hill is embarrassing. One, Thick Nick uses state general funds to buy voters, while Rubbers has been accused of stealing condoms early in his political career from a local pharmacy. Real class acts, n’est-ce pas? Welcome to Little Rhody.
Time was, you could at least depend upon the speaker to bend us over with a degree of class and send flowers the next day. “Milkshake Matty” Smith and Joe “Prince of Darkness” DeAngelis, at a minimum, were intelligent, crafty and unrepentant rulers who left no doubt as to who held the lickin’ stick. And as long as you played by their rules, you were fine. If you didn’t, you would never see any bill you sponsored make it to the House floor, never mind getting more than a pittance in community grant money.
For our younger readers, some background info. P&J dubbed Smith with the “Milkshake Matty” handle after we were informed by a more-than-reliable source that in closing sessions of the legislature, in a non-air conditioned State House in late June and early July, during marathon passages of bills, Smith would send an intern out to Newport Creamery for a huge “Awful Awful,” which would be poured down a State House sink and replaced by a couple of cold beers in the empty cup for the speaker on the podium. Like we said, the man was a clever SOB.
With Joe D, P&J merely brought to attention the “Prince of Darkness” moniker that DeAngelis was known by throughout his Smith Hill fortress, but no one would dare say to his face. What was the most fun were the times when he would go ballistic over a Cool, Cool World column and either call your superior correspondents in a fury, or have the weekly distribution of the Providence Phoenix, which contained P&J, thrown directly into the trash. Boy, those were the days.
Dead Horse Update
Yes, P&J know how to beat a dead horse, but we are not letting up, especially since Dems now control the US House of Representatives. We refer to calling for President Pussy-Grabber to release his tax returns, which should be done on a daily basis, however mind-numbing it gets.
This is a smoking cannon, and not pressing our lunatic hairdo-in-chief on it is neglect of due diligence by our lawmakers and the media. We all know his debts to Vlad Putin’s buddies is a main reason why he publicly kisses his ass every chance he gets. His son, professional moron Donny Jr., admitted that much of the Trump empire is founded on loans by the Russkies years before Daddy ran for president. This should be the first question out of any media member’s mouth at a press briefing until the sweating and unbathed Sarah Huckabee Sanders, or the lying Trump, succumbs.
Phillipe has endured an IRS audit in the past, and while it was about as much fun as a colonoscopy, it shouldn’t be too much to ask of our president to open his own tainted books. We know and you know that his evasion of disclosure is a guarantee that he’s been screwing the pooch for years to the tune of millions of dollars. So c’mon, Congress, start flogging away.