TO THE MERCURY: Hey, this is in response to Trevor Kelly's review of the Vines show ["Up & Coming," April 8]. Are you retarded? Every bash you dish out points so squarely in your own direction. Like them or not (I don't) the Vines are a garage band--no more prefabricated than the bands they emulate. Don't you see how absurd it is to take the "jaded and cynical rock critic" approach while bashing a band for being unoriginal?! If it was so easy to be the Vines or the Strokes, you'd be doing it--or is it cooler working at the Merc?
Love the mag!
BARTENDER = MURDERER?
TO THE EDITOR: What. The. Fuck. I've tended bar/waited tables/served-as-all-around-restaurant-whipping-girl for well over 10 years now and expected a small piece of hilarity upon seeing your article, "Die, Frat Boy! Die!" [Drinking Issue, April 15]. But here's the thing... trying to kill someone with alcohol is not fucking funny!! I GET that the asswipe who wrote it probably thought it was amusing to send a man into an alcohol-induced coma, and that the idiot pounding drinks is responsible for himself--but come on.
Anyone who has stood behind a bar knows what kind of deep shit we can find ourselves in for over-serving. It's thousands of dollars... for you and the bar. And what if this guy had decided to jump into a car?! Your sweet revenge certainly isn't worth someone else's life. I'm going to give author the benefit of the doubt and assume he has some sort of condition that keeps him from realizing he's a complete tool. Dude, you're not cool. Next time you want to prove your superiority over some white kid smarmbiscuit, just kick him out, you ass!!
P.S. Many apologies for the rhyming of "tool" and "cool."
RULE #547: DON'T PISS ME OFF
TO THE MERCURY: Having worked at many nightclubs and bars in Portland over the last few years, your drinking guide failed to include how to behave to the doorperson, security, etc. ["Know Thy Bartender," April 15].
1. When asked to leave, just leave. You aren't going to win. You know the end result, so don't argue, fight, etc.
2. Don't say stupid things to the door guy. You aren't funny and he doesn't give a shit about your stupid fucking jokes.
3. It doesn't matter if you know the owner of the club, are fucking one of the cocktail waitresses, or even blowing the guitar player for the opening band. If you aren't on the guest list, just pay and shut the fuck up.
4. Don't tell the door person you're going to get them fired, or you'll "see them later," because we all know you're not going to do anything.
5. There is a dress code for a reason. If you violate it, you aren't coming in--no matter how much your sneakers cost.
6. After being an asshole, do apologize to the door person when you see him at another club. Hell, buy him a drink.
7. If you are a "regular" it doesn't mean you can just walk up to the front of the line. Unless you've been given the okay, go to the back of the fucking line.
BARTENDERS ARE IDIOTS
TO THE EDITOR: I hope Erin Ergenbright got plenty of free drinks for writing that little "Hey I'm a BARTENDER, so I MUST be cooler than you" piece ["Know Thy Bartender," April 15]. Bartenders are idiots. Why? It's an unappreciated, underpaid job--like scrubbing toilets. When I walk into a bar, I look at the bartender and think, "Shit, if you're working here, you must be a fucking moron." Of course I tip. Tip pretty good, too. Not because I think they're doing a good job, or because I think "Man, that's as blue collar as it gets." I do it so the power-trippin' little ego monkeys don't hawchhhk one in my drink.
Hey, bartenders! "Blue collar" my skinny white ass! If you didn't have that fucking idiotic skater-dick/jailhouse fucking tattoo, or that moronic "where the fuck am I" look on your face, you could be shakin' martinis at some swanky place making 10 times as much. By the way, I tended bar, too. Was I an idiot? You fuckin' betcha! So fuck you, and your little rules like "Don't ask me out, nyah nyah nyah." Or, "Give me a tip, I need some money, blah blah blah." Want to make better tips? Here's how you make better tips: You kiss my fucking ass. You kiss it long, and you kiss it good.