Suzette Smith

THE BEARDED MAN IN THE SKY

RE: "Faith No More" [Feature, April 5], the interview with Portland State University philosophy professor Peter Boghossian regarding his controversial views on faith-based institutions and arguments.

DEAR MERCURY—It is ironic that when America is trying to figure out how to unite the 99 percent [to] end corporate rule in America, the Mercury chose to feature an interview with someone whose career seems devoted to promoting division between progressives of faith and atheists. Everyone has faith in something that cannot be proven. For instance, most people think that democracy is possible even though we have never had it. The same goes with keeping an open mind about what God might be besides a juvenile image of a bearded man in the sky.

-Rick Staggenborg, MD

WHERE AM I?

RE: "Spreading the Wealth" [News, April 12], about the six neighborhoods chosen for urban renewal experiments in a program called the Neighborhood Prosperity Initiative.

DEAR MERCURY—I live at SE 162nd and Powell and like the fact that the city is finally going to provide some support to the area. However, I have no idea where the Rosewood neighborhood is, although I've lived here for six and a half years.

-Stacey

PASTA PERFECT

RE: "Italian Reboot" [Last Supper, April 12], a review of the NE Alberta Italian restaurant Enzo's Caffe Italiano.

CHRIS [ONSTAD]—Thank you for reviewing Enzo's. I LOVE PASTA, and I think Enzo has, quite possibly, the best pasta in town. Thanks, Chris, for shining the light on the under-publicized Enzo's.

-Gary Okazaki

THE "PORTLAND REVIEW" & "PIONEER PARK"

RE: "Strip Club Standstill" [News, April 12], regarding the ongoing struggle between Casa Diablo manager Johnny Zukle and the neighborhood over a planned second location on SE McLoughlin.

TO THE PORTLAND REVIEW—I'm from the Rust Belt myself, having grown up a stone's throw from the Detroit city line, a region whose desolate streets would be just a little brighter with another strip club, or 20, or 30. A few prudes attempting to put a cap on something entirely legal—and economically ethical—is Indian giving. The floodgates are open. The question is one of morality, which can be answered, in writing, by the lawmakers downtown. Let the working girls feed their families... we're not talking about oil drilling in Pioneer Park. You are the epitome of community, Portland.

-Braden Bell

PLAIN AS PLACENTA

RE: One Day at a Time [April 5], in which author Ann Romano expresses distaste at the notion of January Jones eating capsules of her placenta (not that gross) and Alicia Silverstone chewing up her baby's food and spitting it in his mouth (hella gross).

DEAR MERCURY—Ann feigns shock at the pagan peasant practice of new mothers eating their placentas, a trick learned from observing the smart beasts they once lived among, and passed on to January Jones by her doula. Afterbirth placenta is full of vitamins and minerals that quickly replenish the new mother's body, not to mention strengthen her up for the next 52 weeks of sleepless baby care. Women who gobble down the internal organs of cows, pigs, and chickens without a qualm, but then go "EEK!" at the notion of ingesting their own post-birth body part, as nature recommends, mirror the frail Victorian lady who gasps and faints at the sight of blood, when everybody knows she sops up her own menstrual fluid every month from age 12 or so, with rags she must wash out and reuse, no pills, tampons, scented undies, etc. Not to mention carrying around another human body inside her body for 10 months, then delivering it in a howling red horror flick scenario sufficient to make not only her, but often her male partner, vomit and/or swoon. This stiletto bitch faux "femininity" grows tiresome, even as a gossipy joke. Scary tough women live smarter, longer, and have more fun. Good show, January and Alicia Silverstone.  

-Barbara Mor

BON APPETIT, BARBARA! Treat yourself to a pre-chewed placenta dinner AND a movie with your two tickets to the Laurelhurst Theater (hello, date night!), where you can sometimes see January Jones, and extremely rarely Alicia Silverstone on screen, and try—and fail—to think about anything else.