Last century, my shipwright pal Woody, his indecently-beautied girlfriend Sophronia, and I spent a lot of time wandering about the coastline looking for cool boats to purchase, rehab, and/or inhabit. You may remember them. Hmm?
A creature of relentless pulchritude, Sophronia boasted a diversified ethnic background, chiefly Brazilian, African. and South Pacifican. As a Brown University scholar, she spent much of our Providence time lolling about the café scene of Wickenden and Thayer, being stared at, ogled, and furtively photographed by any of the geeks who saw her operate a spoon. Woody, despite his huge biker-ness, always giggled slyly into his cuppa Sumatra at those times and silently remembered the day he dropped the key to his apartment down her boot and then proceeded to retrieve it by... The procedure is not something that needs to be related in this particular divulgence.
Although she indulged the rubbernecking of pedestrians, one thing Sophronia could never tolerate was racism. I mean, I have problems with racism and sexism and I'm one of those people referred to by talk radio callers when they say the world is crippled by "all them PeeCee types."
But Sophronia is different. I had never seen any woman deliver one of those Buffy roundhouse kicks. It would be years before Joss Whedon's combat coordinators could get Sarah Michelle to do any of that. But I saw Sophie do just that thing as we walked down Bowen's Wharf and a jerk behind us cooed something about "dark meat."
A no-class utterance to be sure. Sexist and racist and foul. But the invective jag Sophronia let fly upon the jerk was determinedly terrifying. She read him every copy of the riot act -- in three languages -- and had him repeat it back to her until he dropped to the ground and offered her his car keys through a torrent of supplicating man-tears. On the way home, she insisted we pull up every lawn jockey we saw. Even the ones with white faces.
These days, however, Sophronia and Woody are off on their own, and I take a moment -- say, on snowy Sunday afternoons -- to surf the sailboats-for-sale sites and look at the pretty boats.
I couldn't help but think about Sophronia when I saw this pretty boat for sale in Saint Pete FL:
No, I know Sophie wouldn't like it. Frozen snot, no teak on the deck, awkward dodger, and... what's THAT on the dock?
Let's take a closer look ...
(And as far as I know, this dock is not a Spike Lee Joint.)
I hope a certain Senator from Chicago knows what he's up against on Tuesday.