TO THE EDITOR: I am writing to clarify a bit about Fiji and our "thin not fat" reputation ["Fiji: Thin, Not Fat," Chelsea Cain, June 29]. Ms. Cain clearly didn't do her homework. I am borne of a line of, shall I say, robust Fijians. It takes more than a sarong and a few banana leaves to cover my family's stretch marks, battle tattoos and scrotal wraps.

Not only do we Fijians find a more rubinesque figure attractive and desirable, there are few pleasures more scintillating than the subterranean tremors made by thundering folds of flesh galloping healthily across the sand towards the breadfruit patch!

We Fijians have always seen "healthier" women as fertile and virile. They are symbols of great health and prosperity. (Somewhat similar to your American belief in the SUV.) The idea that bigger is better is not lost on us Fijians. Send us your enormously-hipped maidens and in Fiji we will consider them pear posteriored princesses.

Kamapuaa E'omiamappaokolua


TO THE EDITOR: It only seems as if Darklady has managed to make an orgy sound tedious ["L'Amour the Merrier," Darklady, July 6]. It's actually even LESS adventurous in the "poly" scene.

Usually, there is at least one (but no more than three) young, pretty, slender girls. The majority are older, obese, and snipe bitterly about the more slender ladies when they are out of sight but not earshot.

The true nature of the "orgasmic puppy pile antics:" partygoers throw themselves into a great pile andgiggle. Fully clothed. There is also a bit of squirming. Not too much squirming. Being brushed against, possibly unintentionally (and with everyone dressed), recently made a member feel victimized. Many dramatic e-mails later, instead of saying "duh, don't climb in a big pile of people if you want to avoid touching them," the group had the baffled offender thrown out of the club. So saucy!

The Playboy Channel probably wasn't looking for insecurity and ambivalence, but for joyful, entertaining, romantic alternatives. Using the self-consciously validating word "polyamory" is not enough.



TO THE EDITOR: Regarding this past week's Crime Scene ["Gunshots Heard," July 13], I think I can speak for a good many of my peers when I demand that MORE Reed students are flogged and harassed! Portland cops, I urge you to beat the silly shit out of every sissy-ass Trust fund Reedie that you see! If there were any justice in this town, electric gates would be installed to completely isolate the Reed Campus, and those stupid rich kid commies would be forced to live in the conditions that the lefty governments they admire so much bring upon their people. Portland Cops 1, Rich Kid Poser Hippies 0!

Abbey Castle



In our July 13 story on unsolved black homicides titled "Black and White," we accidentally attributed a quote to the wrong person. Derrick Shepherd was stabbed to death outside a downtown Portland bar on September 18, 1981. The case is still unsolved. His mother told the Mercury that she believes racism was preventing the police from solving the crime. "I grew up in Mississippi, and Oregon is just another name for Mississippi," Nettie Shepherd said. We apologize for any confusion our inadvertent error may have caused.



Tuesday, July 25 is the last day you can send in your entry for our very first ESSAY CONTEST! The theme of this essay is "WHY I DRINK" and we invite YOU to send in 800 typed words on this very pressing subject.

If you win, not only will you receive $100 to spend on the inebriant of your choice, but you will also win a Home Bar Kit, courtesy of the fine folks at Palookaville (211 SW Ninth). BUT WAIT! There's More! Our lushysorry lucky winner will have their essay printed in the Mercury's Drinking Issue, coming August 3! So don't delay! Send in your essay to "Why I Drink" c/o Portland Mercury, 1524 NW 23 Ave, Suite 2, Portland, 97210. You can also email your entry to steve@portlandmercury.com. No drop-offs or calls, you dirty stinkin' drunk! GOOD LUCK!