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Sold out

She will no longer be safe traveling overseas. I liken that to the knee-capping of an athlete."

This is how a former CIA agent who went through training with Valerie Plame — the covert agent who may have been outed by the White House — described to Time magazine the ramifications of such a despicable action.

Plame was targeted because her husband, former ambassador Joe Wilson, exposed Boy George and his lying coterie for falsely claiming that Saddam Hussein sought uranium in Niger to make nuclear weapons. (Or "nucular," as Dubya the Dumb would have it.) That doesn’t even touch on the danger now faced by people with whom Plame was in contact with while working for the CIA overseas in her cover as a businesswoman. Can you say assassinations, boys and girls?

Robert Novak, the conservative columnist who swallowed the bait and identified Plame’s covert job, "moonwalked" (to use Al Sharpton’s description of the Bush administration’s war justifications) on Meet the Press, saying he found out about her role during a normal conversation with a non-GOP-zealot senior administration member. So why did he say it was "TWO senior administration officials" who revealed Plame’s camouflaged position in his damning July column? Would someone mind asking Mr. Novak that question?

Sleep tight, pig-faced punk Karl Rove. We do very much like the idea of you being "frog-marched out of the White House in handcuffs," as Joe Wilson so nicely put it.


Cue the Village People’s "In The Navy" for this next tale, lifted from Paul Bedard’s "Washington Whispers" column in U.S. News & World Report.

Lockheed Martin recently became a finalist for a major defense contract to design and build a sleek, state-of-the-art-warship. But Navy executives evidently let Lockheed know that their choice of name was, as Bedard described it, "a bit, well, queer." It was reported that the Navy’s top brass didn’t like the moniker "Sea Blade," because it "sounded too much like the Washington Blade, the capital’s influential gay paper." Not to mention the gay blades, those members of the "don’t ask, don’t tell" set on the high seas. A service insider told Bedard, referring to the Navy execs, "They’re so freaking homophobic." It nonetheless made the editor of the Washington Blade feel a bit baffled. "I’m surprised officials at the Defense Department are aware of the gay publications out there," Blade executive editor Chris Crain told Bedard.

We wonder why. Rummy told you that the DoD has superior intelligence, didn’t he? Didn’t that famous Winston Churchill line go something like, "All I know about the Royal Navy is rum, sodomy, and the lash"?


P&J loved the recent op-ed that former Senator Max Cleland wrote for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, entitled, "Welcome to Vietnam, Mr. President: Sorry you didn’t go when you had the chance." Cleland, who lost both legs and an arm in Vietnam, received a Silver Star for gallantry in action and he headed the Veterans Administration under Bill Clinton. And yet Bushies who have never been in a fistfight, never mind a war, rapped him as being unpatriotic for disagreeing with their fearful leader. Cleland made a perfect analogy, comparing Vietnam to Iraq, ending with the line, "Sorry you didn’t go when you had the chance." By doing so, he again exposed the fact that Dubya dodged his National Guard duty in Alabama during the Vietnam War.

"Bring ’em on"? No, not when you were too chicken-shit to play the war game, Poppy’s Boy. Bring ’em home.


Contrary to popular perception, Phillipe and Jorge are big athletic supporters. Therefore, we faced the same dilemma as many other fans of the sweaty sciences when games for both the New England Patriots and Boston Red Sox were slated to start at 1 p.m. this past Sunday.

Normally, P&J would just have Lars the houseboy bring the bedroom TV down to the Boom Boom Room at Casa Diablo, so we could watch both contests side-by-side. Unfortunately, Lars was confined to his darkened room, cold compress on forehead, after washing down a handful of Valiums with a shot of Goldwasser. The young Scandinavian lad was traumatized the night before when a tiger mauled of Roy Horn, of "Siegfried & Roy" fame, Lars’s lifetime idol and role model.

So P&J decided to put on the le chien sportif and head down to our local sports bar to watch the games simultaneously on big screen TVs. Wanting to display our vast insider knowledge of the day’s big games and their key actors, Jorge donned a Red Sox "Cowboy Up!" T-shirt, continuing the nuanced theme with a pair of leather chaps — with merely a thong on underneath — and blue cowboy boots. (Fortunately for fashion lovers, both teams have the same colors.) In tribute to the Sox’ Nomar Garciaparra and the US women’s soccer team, which played later that day, Phillipe slipped on a pink soccer jersey with "Hamm" on the back — an acknowledgment of Nomar’s fiancée, Mia Hamm, the star of the national team’s female booters. He added blue soccer short-shorts that would have embarrassed an Argentinean, and low-vamp woven Mexican loafers in bright red, in tribute to Boston’s Latino stars, Pedro Martinez, Manny Ramirez, and David Ortiz. (We needn’t tell you how that good look turned into good luck.)

Upon arrival, we assumed that we blended right in with the crowd full of young men in replica jerseys and ball caps. From the way they eyed Jorge after he had passed, revealing his athletic posterior, we noted a hint of admiration at his well-developed muscles. However, despite our willingness to root, root, root for the home teams, we got a glare from the bartender when we ordered carafes of Angel’s Breath. We followed his less-than-subtle suggestion to drink a pair of Buds (or get out, we think he said). J. was delighted when he saw a pair of tough-looking customers in leather across the bar. They had baseball caps on backwards, displaying their prole straps, and proceeded to smile and wave to him, before P. pointed out they were the dykes on bikes whose Harleys were parked outside the front door. We must admit we were appalled at the language being used, and almost got the vapors when someone yelled at Phillipe, "Hamm? I’ll bet you’d like some meat," which we found not a very clever bon mot at all.

But all’s well that ends well, and as P. and J. sashayed out of the door, one outgoing young man who appeared drunk with the day’s success yelled, "Next time bring your boyfriends!" We felt like family already.


When you consider the ongoing wars and violence in today’s world, the plight of the nation, and even the usual panoply of political hijinks here in the Biggest Little, it makes perfect sense that Channel 10 constantly teased its 11 p.m. news last Sunday with the line, "Will Siegfried and Roy ever perform again?" Sure, we know Sunday is a slow news day, but you also had the Red Sox’ dramatic come-from-behind-victory to tie the Oakland series and an impressive win from the Patriots.

Our only question: What was the caliber of gun that was being held to Larry Estepa’s head to get him to deliver this "Siegfried and Roy" line with such persuasive mock solemnity?


Was anyone surprised that Rush Limbaugh self-destructed with racist comments on ESPN’s Sunday NFL Countdown and had to resign because of the resulting furor? Rush, who is essentially a loudmouth moron — making him perfect for today’s sports shows — could no better not let his politics crawl out of the bag than Liz Taylor could walk past a pound cake. It’s a black eye for the ESPN suits who hired him to simply boost ratings (and who ducked any accountability, as Richard Sandomir noted in the New York Times). It also reflected poorly on the entire crew of NFL Countdown — notwithstanding their lame, self-serving apologias during the show following Limbaugh’s dismissal. They neither called him on it, but in some cases (say "Hi!," Chris Berman, Brown grad and obnoxious blowhard) initially defended him. But they’ll be back catering to the replica jersey-and-reversed baseball cap screaming hordes within a fortnight, bank on it.

Far worse was the remark made right in our backyard by WEEI sport radio’s morning show co-host, professional twit John Dennis. He suggested that Little Joe, the gorilla who escaped from the Franklin Park Zoo and was depicted in a news photo at a bus stop before being captured, was waiting for a bus that takes minority students to suburban schools through a voluntary program. Although Dennis was suspended for all of two weeks (Wow. Bow-wow), Dennis should never work anywhere again, never mind Boston, with its history of racial unrest over busing. But like Rush, the controversy probably just upped his audience and future job opportunities.

P.S. Rush — Philadelphia Eagles 27, Washington Redskins 25; Donovan McNabb: 16 for 30, 2 TDs, 18 yards rushing. You’re a real genius.


A great deal of sadness at Casa Diablo this week as we learned that our friend Josh Lovett passed away. Josh was a kind, gentle, and jovial sort with a distinctive and original creative streak. He had a way with music as well as prose. Josh was a lovely man in every way. He will be terribly missed by his many friends. Our deepest condolences to his family (yes, he was a son of the late, great, and legendary Raul Lovett).


We’re not sure if there’s something in the water (more likely in the kegs), but a lot of well-known people about town have been finalizing their love stories and getting married of late. Last Saturday saw the wedding of Stephanie Finizia and Jim Perry. Stephanie is the proprietor of Nick-a-Nee’s. This, of course, is the bar of choice for an interesting cross-section of artists, political figures, and ink-stained wretches (while we do tolerate — all right, welcome — the presence of a number of BeloJo scribes, Nick’s is just down Chestnut Street from Phoenix headquarters, so we have a certain proprietary interest). Jim is a well-known Providence nightlife figure, a man of many interests and talents, including building strange pre-fab golf courses on cruise ships.

The wedding took place in Wakefield, and the rain magically held off for the entire length of the late afternoon service. As soon as the service ended, down it came. A great time was had by all, making it a perfect day for a wonderful couple.

Later on this month come the nuptials of Sarah McGurkin Paquette and Rich Lupo. Yes, Lupo is getting married, to the stunning and talented Sarah (Jorge once tried to hire her to sing with him, but she was otherwise engaged). Best wishes to all the Providence couples in love.

Send wedding proposals and Pulitzer-grade tips to p&j[a]phx.com

The Phillipe & Jorge archives.
Issue Date: October 10 - 16, 2003
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