TO THE MERCURY VIA VOICEMAIL—Hi, my name is Becky Thornton, I'm a Portland resident and I'm looking at your Thursday edition of the Mercury, which I actually like a lot, but I'm really wondering about some of these letters to the editor [Letters, April 8]. Why do you even print some of this crap? This "Monkey See, Monkey Doo" [letter], these people who have absolutely no compassion? What is happening when twentysomethings are so in with the police? I mean, Jesus Christ, where did these people grow up? Portland? [Laughs.] One person thinks it was justified to use lethal force, that this Jackie Dale Collins was attacking a cop. He was never attacking a cap! The other one is afraid of a weirrrrd vibe. The other one, posted by Showstopper, wants the police to use Jedi mind tricks. My! What a fresh joke! Where do you come up with these editorials? These aren't editorials! These are unenlightened freaks who deserve the world they live in.
DEAR MERCURY—After being alerted to the Mercury's blog posting this week ["Should City Pay to Send the Symphony to NYC?" Blogtown, April 14], I can only assume that many moons ago, young Daniel Saltzman must have been emotionally damaged by some unspeakable terror at band camp, anxiously guarding against any possibility of hearing the bassoon once more. How else can one explain his rage toward the Oregon Symphony? Seemingly every other week we hear of the city's police gunning down another vulnerable citizen, which barely elicits a mumble from meek and mild Commissioner Dan. However, mention a one-time request for 0.007 percent of Portland's budget to help the symphony accept national recognition at Carnegie Hall, and Saltzman's passion surprisingly erupts: "Over my dead body!" I suggest the symphony sweeten the deal for the commissioner, and create a provision in the monetary request allowing Schnitzer ushers to Taser any snoozing concertgoers.
-Brian Horay, "Angry Symphony Guy"
DEAR MATT FUCKING DAVIS—We ignored you once, but this is the second time you've denigrated anarchism without knowing what it is ["Chasse Avenue," Hall Monitor, April 15]. A cursory Wikipedia search would go a long way toward clearing things up for you, but let's at least say that one good thing about anarchism is that whiny liberal pseudo-journalists don't get to define it for the rest of us. You keep pumping out these macho lines about how few cops were injured and how we're not destroying enough property. Well, if you think you know how to riot better than any Portland anarchist, by all means show us how it's done. That's right, if you want the scoop on anarchists you won't find it in your condo and you certainly won't find it by asking cops. So we have a proposal for you: Do a black bloc ride-along. Extend to us the same journalistic courtesy you gave your lovers in the [Portland Police Bureau]. Put on your black hoodie and bandana and come out into the street, throwing rocks and swingin' on cops. Show us how they do it in jolly old England. Until then... eat a bag.
-Voltairine de Cleyre
DEAR MERCURY—This is in response to the douche who wrote in about 'stache choices ["I Don't Like Your Hitler 'Stache," I, Anonymous, April 15]. Advocating physical violence over facial hair. Really? Hey, ass clown, maybe that guy you saw was a fan of Charlie Chaplin or Oliver Hardy, both of whom sported said 'stache before Adolf started with crappy watercolors. What's next? Retooling of everyone who parts their hair on the right; you know, like A.H. did? Or maybe beard correction for those sporting growths like Castro or Osama or ZZ top or, Yahweh forbid, your orthodox friends. Who by the way must have some thoughts on your religious pimping and bigotry ("namby-pamby pussy-ass Reform Jews") all in the same paragraph. Most of the Jews I know are pretty intolerant of intolerance, so please stop being a steaming pile of self-righteous poo.
DEAR MERCURY—I chanced to espy in your One Day at a Time column [April 15] a reference to a new revelation of a long-ago relationship between Oprah Winfrey and John Tesh. The very brief, oversimplified piece is concluded by smugly calling John Tesh a "fucking sissy." I had to shake my head at your magazine's ignorance because anyone who has ever listened to the 1994 Sax by the Fire CD knows that Tesh is a true sexual warrior, straight up. Men, put on that copy of Sax by the Fire the next time you have a lady over—trust me on this one.
WOW, THAT'S A BIG leap of faith, Dan, but we will entrust you with this week's letter of the week along with two tickets to the Laurelhurst Theater and lunch at No Fish! Go Fish!, where it is illegal to put your sax too close to the cooking fire. We can talk about the John Tesh thing some more later.