DEAREST MR. WM.™ STEVEN HUMPHREY—I applaud your column, "I Love Television™," and no, you are not so bad! Please forgive my disgruntled fans, these past couple of weeks have been quite tumultuous for me, rising to the pinnacle of shining stardom, basking in the spotlight, my lustrous locks glistening with the remnants of Jesse James' sweet, sweet duck butter, only to then fall, nay, plummet to the darkest depths, my hunk of a man tragically stolen from me in black-hearted, Jolie-esque fashion by some skanky, inkpad harlot! Now each day I awaken alone, unkempt, bleary-eyed, grizzled, my only comfort to be found in slathering myself with the sweet, sweet frosting of warm Cinnabons (Jesse, I miss you so!), cursing the Gods and their malicious chicaneries, thoughts of ending it all, by bleach or wax, permeating every strand of my.... [Blah, blah, blah.—Eds.]
-Sandra Bullock's Mustache
DEAR MERCURY—Congratulations to nine-year-old Micah Cabot for writing what is at the very least an equal if not superior film review than every other critic at the Merc wrote this week ["Adapting Diary of a Wimpy Kid," Film, March 18]. I read his review for Diary of a Wimpy Kid and I didn't realize it was a nine-year-old [who] wrote it until I finished it.
[You] need to let people dress the way they want ["Portland's Sexiest People," Feature, March 11]. If we all [threw] around mean judgments based on people's looks about everyone ("stupid little bearded guys") then what do you think people would say about you ["Sex and Confusion," Letters, March 18]? Anyway, it's funny that you cry conformity when you basically are ridiculing people for not conforming to your own aesthetic sense of what's "hipster" and "pretentious." "Infested"? Give me a break. I'll give you the same advice about Portland that you gave me about I, Anon: The city is for however people want to dress and be, so shut the fuck up and live here or don't, but don't be such a whiny asshole about it.
-posted by geyser on portlandmercury.com
"The hoops and hopes for female musicians are an entirely different sort of preferential detail than we ask or access for boys" ["Real Genius," Music, March 18]. How? According to whom? I find the first two paragraphs of this like a freshman's "women's lib" essay, circa 1965. As someone who's played music with many, many women, I also find these premises completely unsubstantiated and untrue.
-posted by D on portlandmercury.com
When you buy a new (whether it be new-new or used-new) bike, RECORD THE SERIAL NUMBER ["Hot Wheels," Feature, March 18]! It is usually stamped on the bottom bracket of the bike. The easiest way to do this is have a friend take a Polaroid of you standing with the bike, and then write the serial number in ballpoint pen on the Polaroid underneath. Now stick it somewhere safe. Then, EMAIL the serial number to yourself. That way, when your bike inevitably gets stolen, because you locked it up with a crappy cable lock outside the bar, at least you can retrieve the serial number immediately to report it to the police. If you don't want your bike to get stolen in the first place, don't use a cable lock. They can be cut in half [in] a second with a three-dollar pair of garden shears. Always use a solid u-lock. Never cable locks. Never, never, never!!
-posted by person on portlandmercury.com
SENSIBLE ADVICE, person, sensible advice. Hang on to your two-wheeler, 'cause you just won yourself two tickets to the Laurelhurst Theater and lunch at No Fish! Go Fish!, where fish do not, in fact, need bicycles.