The more things change, the more they stay the same: a selection from the past decade's letters to the Mercury. (Turns out most of them could have been written yesterday.)—Eds.
BIRDS DO NOT CONSTITUTE ART
TO THE EDITOR: What the fuck is up with your fucking cover art! It sucks shit! That's two twee bird issues in a row [Sept 5 & Sept 12, 2002]. Come on people! It might be all cute and post-modern and whatever the fuck, but that doesn't save the fact that it's shit. It's throwaway garbage. I hate it. Why don't you assholes in the design department give me a crack at designing your cover? I do REAL ART!!! My last painting is of my ex-girlfriend giving Satan a blowjob. And I have another of George W. Bush putting a condom on my dad while four Vietnamese boys are rimming Dick Cheney in the background. It's accomplished in-yer-face shit, and the Mercury should recognize. So get off the bird tip and get with some shit with some fucking soul!
-Todd AKA "The Cracker"
TO THE EDITOR: I read "I Hunt the Giant Man-Ape" [Sept 11, 2003] and found a lot of disturbing things. This stupid guy [Erik Henriksen] who thinks he's a "Sasquatch hunter" is nothing more than a killer who only cares about money and not the welfare of the poor Sasquatch. "Bigfoot lusts for the sweet, sweet taste of human blood"? There has NEVER been a report of the Sasquatch intentionally doing harm to a human. If the Sasquatch is a human killer, why do they run when they see people? Why aren't there tons of Sasquatch attack reports? I can't believe he really thought he could accomplish such a hideous thing... trying to lure a Sasquatch with bologna?? And bash it over the head with a baseball bat? In my eyes, he's no better than the terrorists; they kill innocent people and now this guy is trying to kill innocent creatures for no reason at all but money. Some people are wasted skin and poor excuses for humans.
TO THE MERCURY: [Original spelling and grammar have been left uncorrected to preserve the hilarity of this letter.—Eds.] LIstin and learn don't you think your going to know what a Juggalo is in one night you assholes please go back to your second rate paper and eat a big pile of shit you tawaits wouldn't know what it means to write a good article you stink and your paper is cursed now always and forever for eternity HEX ME you just fucked up haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa HEX ME HEX ME ok your HEXED ass holessssssss your paper hexed all who works for this paper Hexed so there happy next time don't fuck with the clowns bitchhhhhhhhh.
I FUCKING DARE YOU TO PRINT THIS: How can it be that so many thousands of relatively like-minded, intelligent, aware people can occupy the counterculture of Portland, and still all we have to show for it is the FUCKING MERCURY? Consider that, simply by virtue of your existence as independent media, it is incumbent upon your publication to print something of value—to challenge SOME idea. I am at long last beginning to smell the vile mold of complete irrelevance growing over my town and my culture. And, unlike the cheerleaders of indifference that rule your staff, I don't like the stench of it.
DEAR MERCURY—My single biggest gripe about sex [possibly in reference to the Mercury Sex Survey, Feature, March 8, 2007] is that I have to go to Nevada to get laid legally for money. As an old guy, it is impossible to get laid legally by a hot chick in this state. But in Nevada I can get them half my age in pairs. Oregon can kiss my ass about where I spend my vacation money. Fuck the coast. Fuck Mt. Hood. I go to the Bunny Ranch and fuck 'til I can't walk anymore and crawl out to my car.
-Old Guy Loves Mercury