TO THE EDITOR AND BRIAN H. GRIFFEY: Who the fuck writes CD reviews for the Mercury? Brian H. Griffey for one. Brian, reading your review of my record [CD Review, Day Rate Cessna, June 22], I got the impression you're a snot-nosed high school journalism student, who had just been given his first assignment working for the big kids. And boy, had you saved a lot of one-liners to put in your first article.
Now, I'll give you a certain amount of leeway, as it's a CD review, and you get to express your opinion, regardless of how stunted it may be. But where's the review? You're so busy dropping cute catch phrases you barely talk about the record. As I read, I can almost see your mental process at work: "Oh, here I think I'll use karma and dogma in the same sentence, that always gets a laugh, and oh, oh, now I'll coin a brilliant phrase about Dorothy being in Kansas." How does this shit even relate?
Put on your big boy hat, and the next time you write a review, talk about the music. As far as hipster apathy is concerned, come to one of my shows and we'll discuss it after I kick your ass, fucker.
SAME MERCURY CRITIC
ASKED TO "LICK IT UP"
TO THE EDITOR: It appears that some of the folks down at the Mercury have a little Heathers competition going with the goal being who can gripe the most while attempting to be witty. In round #4, the music reviewers are in the lead. Let's criticize someone's lyrics while using lame phrases like "hamsterpiece" and "Dorothy's still in fucking Kansas" in the same fucking review. It's quite easy to be clever and use all your hip words when really you're just being cockbags. We'll stick to WW. Lick it up baby. Lick it up.
JUST CALL US "HOWLING MAD" MURDOCK
TO THE WHOLE DURNED MERCURY STAFF: While reading Ann Romano's "One Day At A Time" [June 22], I couldn't help but notice her reference to the Mercury as "the Merc." Well, I'm begging. Give A-Team style nicknames to every last one of your writers, if you so choose. Whatever you need to do to please your thirst for geek cool. Just put "the Merc" back in the vault.
ANOTHER NOT-SO-CLEVER ATTEMPT TO GET MARIE INTO THE SACK
MS. MARIE MARTIN: I no longer believe that your "Dating Tips for Horny Boys" [June 29] is in any way derived from your pool of personal experience. In fact, I don't believe it's possible for one single girl to have all these heartbreaking episodes in one short lifetime. However, if your column reflects, or even approaches, the misadventure that is your real life, then not only do you have my most earnest sympathies--but you now have my name, address, and phone number. Please don't give up the shipbut no one could blame you if you did.
HIPPIES: THE FIRST SHOPLIFTERS IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD
TO THE EDITOR: It's been done. Sorry. This silly shoplifting thing, I mean [Crime Scene, June 29]. Very early hippies were into this "ripping off the establishment" stuff. Walk through a grocery, open a jar of peanut butter and a box of crackers and eat while pretending to shop. We didn't even have to lie to get what we wanted. Wonder if the very cool photo stealer gave them his real phone number or address? If so, I wonder if he knows about the computerized records on those photos? I thought this modern generation was so original and out there to ridicule all those hippie things...
DEPT. OF CORRECTIONS
After shamelessly promoting the Neon Spur's hilariously fun mechanical bull last week [Club Directory Calendar, One Day at a Time], we discovered the bull is only there every OTHER Saturday, rather than EVERY Saturday. We truly regret the error (Hey! We wanted to ride the bull, too!). Call ahead to make sure. Neon Spur, 3620 SE 35th Place, 238-7787.