THE FACE BEHIND THE CURTAIN

ANN ROMANO—Yet again, another brilliant display of bodacious wit and unparalleled journalism [One Day at a Time, March 3]. Well, we here at CanRomanoHaveAnOriginalIdea.com can only wonder why you would NOT consider yourself a suitable match for the adorable Mr. Clooney. Your shining personality and boundless energy to wittily bash others, several of which H. Kip has been said to find alluring, must mean that you yourself are exceptionally beautiful. So what this all means is: WE WANT A PICTURE OF ANN ROMANO! (And it better be recent.) 

-Susan Sweeter

THE ICY HAND OF TIME

DEAR MERCURY—Oh sure, you are young and hip now, but are you going to realize when you, Wm. Steven Humphrey, wake up someday and have become the next Mark Zusman or Richard H. Meeker?

-Jeffrey M. Arnold

THE UNFORESEEABLY LENGTHY KING MISSILE DEBATE

THANK YOU, SCOTT OWENS—I agree with you up to an extent [“Demystified,” Letters, March 10]. King Missile did have two great tunes. “My Heart Is a Flower,” which sums up 90 percent of the PDX indie scene and beyond. There is also “No Point,” with a video everyone has been trying to imitate for decades, a sound that echoes in a lot of indie irony but without the straight-up humor of the original. They were influential, their sound was awful, but the “point” and the sound have been adopted by many of these American indie bands without them maybe even knowing it, a case of cryptomnesia.

-THIS IS ARMANDO HOYOS

ANGRY SYMPHONY GUY: STILL ANGRY

DEAR MERCURY—You fucking jackoffs. Five top-notch symphony musicians and their friends invite international composer Gabriel Prokofiev to town, and the Mercury barely mentions it under its DJ listings. Perhaps you could spend a little less time determining which newscaster you’d like to blow, and a little more effort checking out the local music scene.

-Brian Horay, Angry Symphony Guy

WE’VE GOT YOU COVERED

DEAR MERCURY—Last week I was in a local coffee shop with my 10-month-old daughter, who was making googly eyes at the iron-haired old lady across the table while I enjoyed a monkey muffin and perused your fine publication. Everything was going swimmingly until the old dear’s eyes wandered to the front cover of the paper, which featured a crudely drawn Portland hipster, naked save for an ironic ’70s sweatband, riding a llama, drawn with a particularly baggy and visible scrotum [Cover, Feb 17]. At which point her face became strangely rigid and I could just about see her wondering how badly damaged my baby would turn out to be. This week I got a to-go cup of coffee and picked up a Mercury again. And this week it’s the Sex Issue. The cover is toned down a bit (It’s a still from Flashdance, right?) but it still says “Filthy Sex” in every corner and somehow I feel a little self-conscious rolling it up and putting it under my arm to take home and read later… [Cover, March 10]. Naked welders are great and all, but how about a big-print disclaimer like, “The contents of this paper aren’t just pages of naked people (and possibly llamas).” Just so the sweet old lady opposite me doesn’t call up child services when I get next week’s coffee.

-Paul

SORRY FOR THE AWKWARD moments, Paul, but we can’t help it—you have no idea what llama scrotums do for our pick-up rate! Thanks for reading in spite of judgey old-lady glances, and please enjoy two tickets to the Laurelhurst Theater and lunch at No Fish! Go Fish!, where you’ll need to park your llama out back.

4 replies on “LETTERS TO THE EDITOR”

  1. @ Paul,

    If nasty old women leering around in coffee shops makes you feel THAT self-conscious, then maybe you ought to just buy some beans & make your own damned coffee at home. Wuss.

  3. Ann Romano will never post a pic of herself. Not after all the shit she’s talked. Instead, she’ll have some dude form darkhorse draw a flattering comic of her wearing Lisa Loeb glasses & holding a martini.

  4. Ann Romano is one of the best things about the Mercury. She is also, I believe, a pseudonym. I imagine that WSH writes most of the column, but I’ve heard that Chelsea Cain has also worked behind the persona.

    That said, I imagine her as being this aging catty bitch bedecked in Betsy Johnson jewelry, reading a copy of Us Magazine whilst she sips idly the afternoon’s third martini.

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