TO THE MERCURY: I'm from out of town, so where does one find a mechanical bull in Portland if the one you discovered at the Neon Spur is now gone? I am desperate to find one for a special trip on October 20-22. It seems so goofy, but someone I know really wants to ride one, and I'd like to be able to make it happen! We're down there for a conference and it would be a great surprise. Any suggestions?
TO OUR READERS: Citizens of Portland, Heather needs our help. If you know of a mechanical bull in operation anywhere near the Portland metropolitan area, it is of vital importance that you contact us immediately at
firstname.lastname@example.org . And while we're at itÉ do you wear a size 13 shoe? Please email Wm. Steven Humphrey at
email@example.com . Why? Unless you wear a size 13 shoe, it's none of your business.
I DEMAND TO BE LABELED AND MARGINALIZED!
TO THE EDITOR: Because of how much I both love and hate Portland's adolescent-like development into subcultures, "The Five Types of Portlander" [Oct 2, J.B. Rabin] horribly disappointed me. This article could have, and should have, been a soul-crushing, ironic, and hilarious look into the ways we Portlanders present ourselves. Every Mercury reader should have felt a sharp pinch when we got to our own carefully labeled category. But it fell short, failing to follow a relatively basic formula for labeling one's peers--a formula any high schooler would know.
At the very least, almost every category must be divided up into male and female subdivisions. To show, for example, the "Indierocker" as only male leaves out an entire species of tattooed women in horizontal stripes and argyle socks (besides, and I may be misinformed, but I believe the correct term is "Hipster," not to be confused with "Scenester," if you please). Plus, you didn't mention the cowboy boots.
I was incredibly disappointed in this article because it had the potential to make me squirm, and instead I came out feeling like "Fuck, I don't fall into a category," when in fact, I'm a bigger poser than the rest of you. I could have written this article and made Portland subcultures piss their "but I'm different" Diesel jeans, Dickies spandex shorts, Carharts, resin-stained floral skirts, patchwork cords, and Emilio Pucci skirts. Learn how to label.
REMEMBER THE DWARF (NOT THE MIDGET)
TO WM. STEVEN HUMPHREY: Knee High P.I. was the last film featuring my friend, Cork Hubbert ["I Love Television™," Oct 9, wherein Humpy wonders if he "'missed the midgets are funny again' memo"]. He died shortly after the completion of the movie, as every other publication in Portland seemed to be aware of. Margie Boule wrote about Cork in her Sunday column. She captured exactly what he meant to people. Since you mean nothing to people, the deep affection people feel for Cork may bewilder you.
He was courageous, talented, dignified, decent, and generous. These are not qualities one associates with your scrofulous outpourings.
He was a part of Portland. You are not. Your rag constantly shows a collective ignorance as to the history of Portland, cultural as well as social. My friend the dwarf (not a midget) will long be remembered. You will not be.
KUDOS TO THE "PORTLAND TEENAGE TIMES"
TO THE MERCURY: Okay, so usually, I think that you and your little "Portland Teenage Times" magazine is "fawking stoopid," ESPECIALLY Julianne. But your parody of Byron Beck's "Queer Window" column from the Willamette Week ["Queer Gloryhole," Oct. 9] was right-on and long overdue. Who does that fat fuck think he is? I'll tell you, once I saw him stuffing that fat fucking face of his at Mint and it was a seriously sad sceneÉ he looked like a bloated chipmunk with a sack full of nuts in his mouth (pun decidedly intended).
At any rate, Byron Beck is nothing more than a pathetic waste of space and potential fertilizer, and more than deserved the skewering he received. It's ironic that the brilliant Dan Savage ran a letter in the same issue about guys that can put their own dicks in their mouths. Especially since Byron Beck proves that it's possible to get by while having your own head firmly up your ass! Keep on him, so to speak, the plague wasn't wiped out with a single stroke.
CONGRATS TO AL for winning the Mercury "Letter of the Week," which includes free tickets to the Laurelhurst Theater, and to see Beulah at Dante's on Oct 30! Pissed because you never win anything? See "Prize Fight!" on page 53--your chances just got better!