RE: Film Shorts [April 19], in which Suzette Smith reviews local film Trannysnatchers using the words "charming," "funny," "clever," and "endearing."
DEAR MERCURY—Can you please send someone to the theater to watch this movie instead of having some brain-dead intern watch it on their laptop? They complain about audio issues in the review, while 60-plus people watched the same exact copy at the prescreening on April 5 and exactly NONE of them had any problems hearing dialogue. Your writer complains of the church-lady killing scene being too long... ummm, it lasts about two minutes. The movie is supposed to be low quality. We made it with like $8,000, of which 25 percent went to feed the cast. If Suzette thinks it's soooo easy to make a 90-minute film in a high school A/V class, I dare her to try it. Try it on this budget. Try to get people to rally together to get it finished. Try to get the quality we even achieved. I am very proud of everyone in this project, and it would be nice to get a fair shake in the newspaper. The film is not a Hollywood-produced film. It's anti-Hollywood, and I would think you guys would take that into consideration when writing it up.
-James Jamonsta, Bad Scene Productions
RE: The upcoming Portland mayoral election, black clothing, and anal vibrations.
DEAR MERC—Apropos of nothing, because I think you black-clad hipsters at the Merc think of nothing except what vibrator will feel good up your ass: Jefferson Smith is the name of James Stewart's character [in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington]. Please don't vote for Eileen Brady, who has inflated her resume regarding her founding of New Seasons, which is, in any case, a supermarket I CANNOT AFFORD. And please don't vote for Charlie Hales, who voted in Oregon elections while paying no (income) taxes in Washington, unlike me in 1993-1995, who made his money in Washington and Michigan (states with little or no income tax), but who paid Oregon state income taxes because it was important to me to be an Oregonian. (It may have helped I was married to an Oregonian). Jefferson Smith. We had Bud Clark. We had Sam Adams.
-Brian Allan Cobb
RE: "Ill Winds for Downtown's Homeless" [Hall Monitor, April 19], a report on the Portland Business Alliance's second annual summit on downtown crime.
DEAR MERCURY—Mr. [Denis C.] Theriault kindly bolds hot button phrases, and it worked. His last sentence's "makes being a homeless crime" caught my attention. Maybe being homeless should be a crime; at least for those that either (a) are not homeless, (b) choose to be homeless, or (c) are not taking advantage of programs to get them off drugs, booze, or simply back on their feet. Beds in the shelter and food at the soup kitchens should be reserved for those who have no other option. I believe society agrees, and supports taking care of those that cannot take care of themselves, and would be more sympathetic to the cause if they truly felt those they were helping really needed the help. If you have options that would keep you out of the free shelter, then taking a bed there should be looked at as a crime. Lay down in front of my business when you are mentally ill, I will pick you up. Lay down in front of my business and act like a belligerent ass... go to jail.
RE: "Dreadlocked Revolutionary" [Film, April 19], a review of Marley, a new documentary on Bob Marley.
DEAR MERCURY—Ned Lannamann's review was horrible journalism. Like Bob Marley I am also "half white," and believe me it is not a point "worth driving home." For some people it may be, but it's usually those people that make me feel ostracized and unwelcome. Bob Marley is a music and social icon and it's nobody's fault but Ned Lannamann's that he will remain nothing but "an enigma, a silk-screened face on a stinky T-shirt." Hey Ned, go lively up yourself and don't be no drag!
YOU'D BETTER LIVELY yourself up too, Lara, cuz you won this week's Mercury letter of the week and two tickets to the Laurelhurst Theater, where you can often see films that center around enigmatic gentlemen, and, somewhat less frequently, stinky T-shirts.