RE: "Kombucha" [Portland as Fuck, Feb 6], in which author Ian Karmel tried kombucha for the first time.

DEAREST MERCURY—Oh Ian, if I didn't have 99 problems (none of them bitches) and more money, I would make you a housewife (Dan Savage could be my mistress). It's been five years since my kombucha incident as well, and if I could travel back in time to punch my stupid teen face in... well... I wouldn't, but I would be thoroughly pissed off that I threw away a full bottle of something I drink like water now.




RE: Reader Valentines [Feb 13], in which we publish free valentines all over our precious paper. We have no idea what happened here (he probably did it wrong).

TO THE GREAT FOLKS AT MY BELOVED PORTLAND MERCURY—Since I moved here in 2004, I've sent at least one Mercury valentine to my eager and beautiful wife each year. She read through the whole issue and was heartbroken when she didn't see the one that read, "Beb, When I saw you leaning against your locker at Auburn High in 1989, I was fucking STRUCK. My knees buckled. I knew you'd never dig a guy like me. Now I thank God every day that I was wrong. Luvst always."




RE: "Shaking up Salem" [News, Feb 6], regarding a report about Oregon's lack of earthquake preparedness making its way toward legislators.

DEAR MERCURY—Thank you for continually mentioning the looming danger of an earthquake in Portland. We can all learn from the major snowstorms this year in New England how important it is to have water, food, fuel, and extra cash on hand. Next time you report on the possibility of a major earthquake you could list basic supplies we should all have.

Captain Darroch H. Cahen



RE: The Mercury's ski mask photo contest [Jan 2], in which readers were invited to cut the ski mask cover art of Kelly Abeln out and send us their best photos wearing it, with a $100 prize for our favorite.

DEAR MERCURY—One recent morning, at a base that must go unnamed in Southern Afghanistan, the January 2 issue of the Portland Mercury was smuggled into my hands. An avid skier currently deployed in a war zone where the Mercury is considered pornography, I knew I needed to get this off my hands quickly. I had the attached photo taken, destroyed the mask/evidence, and hustled to send it back to you. But then, though no deadline was mentioned, I see a winner published in the very next issue and my jaw dropped. All I can say is REALLY? A bank robber wearing a mask?? And the trite comment about not needing the money? Really? How's this: If you don't choose to cough up another $100 to help a sister who is stuck in the desert during ski season, I'll... I'll... okay, I'll still read you, but I just might "poke your eye out with this thing" when I get back. 


OKAY LAW, YOU WIN. But we're not made of money, you know! How 'bout two tickets to the Laurelhurst Theater instead, eh? No? How about four? Okay, eight, but that's our final offer. Now get that thing out of our nose.