[In last week's issue, the Portland Streetcar wrote the last chapter in his novella, Those I've Killed So Far, by the Portland Streetcar. And while the Streetcar's work has received critical accolades from both the public and several interested publishing companies for its gritty view of urban transportation and murder, many of our readers felt the final chapter "went too far" with the descriptive smushing of Portland's beloved paraplegic cartoonist, John Callahan. Here are some of their letters.--Eds.]
HEY STREETCAR: So when did you become such a dick? It was cool and stuff when you ran over the rich people and even that one homeless dude--but CALLAHAN?? Dude, Callahan fucking ROCKS, and I know he says cruel stuff and shit in his cartoons, but he's crippled and shit so, like, he's ALLOWED. And so what if he doesn't draw so good? Crippled people don't have to go to art school. It's ALLOWED. So anyway, run over somebody who deserves it, dick. Like YOURSELF.
DEAR PORTLAND STREETCAR: You, sir, are a monster. And I quote from your stupid column: "A paraplegic cartoonist by the name of 'Callahan' was waiting on the street's corner. I despise his simple, vulgar outlook, along with his artistic renderings that share far too much in common with the scratchings of a chicken. So I crushed him. I ran over him again, and again until he was nothing but a stain of crimson, metal, and pink ruddy flesh."
Portland Streetcar, you have gone too far! You may think the senseless murder of our city's finest cartoonist--John Callahan--is the stuff of which whimsy is made, but I consider your writing to be in the poorest of taste, and perhaps most importantly, "anti-differently-ablist."
TO THE STREETCAR: Enough is enough! Not only have Mercury readers been forced to endure your painfully transparent plagiarism of Bret Easton Ellis, your destruction of the artist Callahan is obviously just a way of snuggling up to your corporate sponsors (the Mercury) by getting rid of the only reason people read the WW. Well, I hope you're happy, because I will never again read your ridiculously envious paper (or ride the streetcar, for that matter!). Put that in your tailpipe, Streetcar! And Smoke It!