THE BLUE SUIT
Frank and honest discussions between two good friends and confidants, the mayor’s Blue Suit and Josh Resnek
“Did you watch that city council meeting Monday night? What a thing it was! Did you hear the open mike gaffe?”
– The Blue Suit speaking with Josh Resnek
“Let’s start with Al Lattanzi. You’ve got to love Al Lattanzi,” the Blue suit said to me. He was all bundled up. It was very cold. We walked side by side in a snow covered Woodlawn Cemetery, closer to the Revere side. There the older granite markers and monuments are stunningly beautiful with that weathered darker gray of the granite juxtaposed against the perfect white of the snow.
“What’s your problem with Al Lattanzi?” I asked.
“Did you hear what he proposed?”
“Yeah. I heard it,” I answered. “It was kind of a weird first legislative proposal for a newcomer to the board.”
“Weird indeed,” I added.
“What’s with him wanting to increase the number of liquor licenses in Everett?” I asked the Blue Suit.
We continued walking in the cemetery. I used to love cemeteries. Now I don’t really like being around them. I don’t want to be buried. I have a terrible fear of being in a casket six feet under the ground. In fact, I’ve informed my wife and kids when I take my last breath, I want to be dragged out of wherever I died by the ankles, stuffed into a car and taken immediately to a crematorium. That will be that. I will be pleased. Everyone can then get on with their lives. I don’t want or care about an obituary. I don’t want a service anywhere. Please allow me to be totally gone when I die, I’ve told my wife and kids.
“Isn’t that a bit harsh, Josh?” the Blue Suit wondered.
“Not at all.”
Back to Al Lattanzi.
“Why would Al want more liquor licenses in the city? More importantly, can you imagine how he told the council he had asked Assistant City Solicitor Keith Slattery to do some re- search on the matter?” I said.
“That should be a comprehensive report from Slattery, just the kind of report the city would get from Colleen Mejia,” I continued.
“Maybe Al wants to put a cafe with a liquor license in the new project he’s going to build where the hardware store is? Would someone like Al want to do something like that?” I asked the Blue Suit.
“Noooooo!” the Blue Suit said. He couldn’t stop laughing. “If Al wants more liquor licenses, there has to be money in it for him or something like that. Why else would he make such an absurd suggestion?”
“Do you think it was his suggestion or Carlo’s ask of Al as a thank you for helping him to get elected?” I asked the Blue Suit.
“That’s always a possibility,” the Blue Suit chimed. “I don’t know what makes Al tick. Aren’t liquor licenses valuable? Maybe giving the mayor a dozen or so new liquor licenses to hand out will be a good money maker for them…forgive me…I mean the city,” he answered, catching himself just a bit being too frank.
“Do you think the people of Everett want more liquor licenses? Do you think the police want more liquor licenses? Do you think Alcohol Anonymous and Narcanon officials and members want more liquor licenses? Do you think those local people who have lost children and loved ones to alcoholism will be in favor? Al might as well have suggested allowing pot smoking cafes. After all, marijuana is legal just like alcohol,” I said to the Blue Suit.
At that point, I got tired of talking about Al. After all, he’s a shill for the mayor and nothing else. That doesn’t make him a bad guy. It simply means he doesn’t have a mind of his own and his bank account is owned by the mayor.
“Let’s talk about a few more things, a kind of around the town thing,” I told the Blue Suit.
“I’m certainly up for that,” he replied.
“I’ve heard recently everything isn’t going so well between the mayor and another of his rubber stamps, Dickie Dell Isola.”
“You’ve got that right,” the Blue Suit commented. “The mayor is pissed at Dickie. I don’t know what he did, but the mayor is down on him. Doesn’t matter to Dickie. He’s got to do the mayor’s bidding until he falls off the DeMaria merry go round and is thrown under the DeMaria bus. Someone close to Dickie told me he saw the mayor coming out of a restaurant the other night and the mayor didn’t bother going over to him to shake his hand or to pat him on the back or to thank him for all his courageous votes for his illegal longevity payment. What do you think of that?” the Blue Suit asked me.
“Dickie Dell Isola will get the worst thing any of us can get in our lives for blindly and obediently doing the mayor’s business for him,” I added.
“And what is that?” asked the Blue Suit.
“Dickie will get what he deserves. There is no punishment worse that that.”
We both laughed.
“Let me ask you this,” I said to the Blue Suit.
“Did you hear about the open mike gaffe that Stephanie Martins made?”
“No. Tell me about it. I love Stephanie Martins. I think she’s really cool.”
“Well, Stephanie and Jimmy Le were kind of at odds throughout Monday night’s city council meeting.
During a quiet moment, when Stephanie’s mike was on and she didn’t know it, she lashed out at Jimmy saying something like, “You’re an -_ _ _ hole.”
The Blue Suit exploded. “You’ve got to be kidding me!! Would someone like Stephanie do something like that?”
“You tell me,” I replied. “She must have been pretty upset at Jimmy to say something like that to him,” I added.
The Blue Suit thought for a few moments.
“How do you think Councilor DiPierro is doing today?” he asked me.
“It all depends on who reads his Instagram messages.” I answered.