TO THE PORTLAND MERCURY and its Fascist empire of wordpoop: Your anonymous publishings are wrinkling like rotten prunes. [Regarding "I, Anonymous"] I thought your newspaper stood for something more than just bent-over hipsters caught in the petals and thorns of the Rose City soap opera. Your articles are right the fuck up there with the sun, but please, let's get off the anonymous monorail train shootin' through the tunnel of cliché okie-dokes and their twitty little housemate quarrels. If I didn't want to shag your whole staff (male and female) rotten, I'd tell you all to go drink absinthe butt-naked and break into the Shanghai tunnels to find another city to go bug.
HILLBILLY MORGAN SHOWS HIS TRUE COLORS
DEAR MERCURY: I was excited to read your nigger issue this week. ["A Hick's Guide to a Red-State Summer Fun," May 12] I'm glad somebody finally pinned down those niggers for what they really are: A bunch of poor, uneducated backwoods niggers. --
It takes a lot of guts to print an entire issue about how stupid and silly niggers are. All the weird things they do, the different stuff they think--it makes me sick! Goddamn niggers!--
I mean I really haven't ever met a nigger. Usually I just read articles about niggers--by other people who claim to know about them. Since everyone makes fun of niggers all the time, I figure they must be really stupid. --I definitely think I'm much smarter than a nigger. In fact, I'm certain of it.
--Again, thanks for writing all those great stories about summer niggers. They're so silly!--
WM. STEVEN HUMPHREY RESPONDS: Ohhhhh, now we get it….This is a ham-fisted attempt to prove that our continuous teasing of hillbillies is, in actuality, racism. Unfortunately Morgan, your logic contains a critical flaw: Hillbillies aren't a race; they're a class. So while we are definitely (and happily) guilty of classism, you have unwittingly shown your true colors--you stupid fucking hillbilly racist.
JUDAS PRIEST IS AMERICAN?
[VIA VOICEMAIL] HEY THERE PHIL: My name is Wendell. I was just reading your issue here on hick-style fun for the summer. ["A Hick's Guide," May 12] You left out a couple things. Yeah, you talk about the Clackamas River. But what does the Clackamas River have for hicks? Nuthin', unless you have a fishin' pole. But listen here: It does have High Rocks. We don't just go to the Clackamas River. We go to High Rocks. We bring our Pabst Blue Ribbon and we have ourselves a good time. What you do is drink all the beer out of the box and you put the box on your head and jump off the highest rock. That is a tradition around here.
Let me tell you 'nother thing. You talk about Fourth of July. Have you heard that Judas Priest is playing at the Clark County Fair Grounds on the Fourth of July? I'll tell you what, if you ain't at Judas Priest on the Fourth of July you're just downright un-American.
Hey. HEY. Listen up BOY… You have a mighty fine day. And, HEY, when you say hick, say it with a smile.
ERIK HENRIKSEN'S OXYGEN-DEFICIENT BRAIN
DEAR MERCURY: Obviously Erik Henriksen's article was meant to be somewhat humorous ["That Shit Done Blowed Up Real Nice-Like!," May 12]. But I must wag my finger like a grumpy old man anyway. Ignoring the particularly lame 12-year-old stuff like Molotov cocktails and lighting hairspray on fire, the "fireworks directions" were crap. Aside from the fact that the mixture described is horribly oxygen-deficient (and would hardly burn), recommending Skylighter is a particularly bad idea. They exist to serve legitimate pyrotechnicians and do not appreciate people who just want to make a bang and don't know what they are doing. To make matters worse, the entire industry is currently being targeted by the Consumer Products Safety Commission, leading to hundreds of individuals receiving friendly letters from the Department of Justice. Moral of the story: I know fireworks are fun (which is why I am a hobbyist myself), but leave them--if not to the professionals--at least to somebody who actually knows what they are talking about.
THANK YOU, BRIAN. For your ninny whinny lecture on safety precautions, you win the Mercury's Letter of the Week. Loosen up a bit with two tickets to Laurelhurst Theater, a $30 dinner certificate to No Fish! Go Fish! and two tickets to Maximo Park on July 2 at Dante's. Live a little!