SANDERS IS A FILTHY LIAR
DEAR MERCURY: If anyone is a filthy liar it is Justin Sanders ["Making Karaoke Count", Nov 10], NOT KJ "Jen" from Chopsticks.
Sanders implied that he turned in his song around 10 pm, and was never given the opportunity to sing. I find this exceptionally hard to believe—he should have sang [sic] at least once. However, for the record: Showing up at 10 is the death sentence if you want to sing without a wait, especially more than once.
I'm also curious to know if Sanders was wasted... he did say he "pumped" 40 bucks into the place. Things can become a bit foggy after 14 tall PBRs.
THE SONG REMAINS THE SAME
DEAR MERCURY: Mad props to Justin Wescoat Sanders for his feature story on karaoke. What at first glance appeared to be a typically sloppy, incoherent tirade turned out to contain a nearly spot-on parody.
And this is where Mr. Sanders' subtle genius shone through: By pretending to be the archetypal "Karaoke Asshole" he managed to deftly satirize their most ridiculous traits: the fantastic hyperbole ("I waited four whole hours while regulars waltzed up to the mic again and again!"), the absurd name-calling ("Dirty liar!" "Nepotistic atrocities!" "Rat bastard KJs!"), the faux outrage upon learning that a tip can improve your spot in the rotation, the insincere appeal to political activism ("Fight the system!"). Above all, he managed to capture the Karaoke Asshole's persecution complex: that peculiar mix of self-pity and paranoia that can drive a KJ to distraction.
I'll admit it, like most people I thought Sanders was a talentless hack, but he's proven me wrong this time. Way to go, Mercury!
Danny "Nepotistic Rat Bastard" Coble,
Chopsticks KJ since 2004
CAN'T BUY ME LOVE
DEAR MERCURY: I would like to know if you treat all of your advertisers with as much disrespect as you did Chopsticks.
David Chow, the owner of Chopsticks, has advertised with you for some time. He gives you, which I can only roughly estimate is in the thousands, every month... then you go and thank him by ripping the shit out of his establishment AND his employees?
Chopsticks will be busy whether they advertise or not, but you my stupid little friends are nothing without your advertisers—just something to think about next time you decide to print libelous and outright false material about one of your advertisers.
[Turn to pg 5 to read the Mercury's response to all this outraged karaoke hoopla!]
NO VOODOO MEDICINE
CORRECTION: This week's Mercury [Nov 17] has a wonderful little vignette about Voodoo Doughnut. Please let it be clear that we have not served NyQuil or Pepto-Bismol since the Health Department legally informed us of the prohibition of any types of medicine in food way back in the months after we opened in 2003. We thank the Mercury for their continuing support but must clarify this boldly since it will probably result in a visit from the Health Department asking questions as to something they told us not to do emphatically. We still provide the craziest doughnuts in the world, and we will provide them within the confines of the legal code.
Cat Daddy & TresDoughnut Barons, Voodoo Doughnut
ROCK STARS ARE FILTHY LIARS TOO!
DEAR MERCURY: Your review of Walk the Line ["It Ain't Great, Babe," Nov 17] was so astute. What really got me was when you referred to Johnny Cash's false Folsom Prison song—you are right—he so totally did not do prison time. I hate it when people write shit that didn't directly happen to them. I mean, David Lee Roth wrote a song about Panama and he's never EVEN BEEN THERE. Also, Bob Dylan so totally does not know any Eskimos. Shit. I bet John Cougar Mellencamp has never even lived in a pink house. What fucktards! I'm going to burn all my David Bowie records because that asshole has never been to outer space!
Thanks again, Lily Albee
CONGRATULATIONS TO LILY for further educating us on the nature of fucktardianship, and for ridding the Earth of one more collection of records by that asshole poseur David Bowie (only 889,263,846,947.59 to go!). For her efforts, she snags two tickets to the Laurelhurst, and two tickets to see Rasputina at Dante's on Dec 3—a group without any of that "outer space" phony baloney.