[EDITOR'S NOTE: The year's end is always a good time for personal reflection on past triumphs, as well as mistakes that have been made, so that one may go into the future armed with the knowledge gained from experience... Obviously, we're talking about YOU. Here are the best letters we got from Mercury readers in 2007. Join us after our break, for our first issue of '08, hitting the streets January 10!]


DEAR MERCURY—My single biggest gripe about sex [possibly in reference to the Mercury Sex Survey, Feature, Feb 8] is that I have to go to Nevada to get laid legally for money. As an old guy, it is impossible to get laid legally by a hot chick in this state. But in Nevada I can get them half my age in pairs. A lot of old guys have just given up trying to get laid. I see it as a mental health issue. It is a damn shame that a lot of good men [who] have worked all their lives have to give up getting laid due to legal, societal interference. Oregon can kiss my ass about where I spend my vacation money. Fuck the coast. Fuck Mt. Hood. I go to the Bunny Ranch and fuck 'til I can't walk anymore and crawl out to my car.

Old Guy Loves Mercury


DEAR MERCURY—I couldn't find anything to get pretentious and/or witty about in your latest issue [April 12]. Who threw in the towel? Come on, fucking offend my sensibilities already! Slaughter something more conventional, like a family dog, and then write about it. Now that would be truly punk. Do some shots or something. Get mean!

Coach Stan Dovermeandpooponmychest


GREETINGS, MAGGOTS—You hipster douchebag retards think you're so clever, don't you? If you hadn't been so busy chortling at ancient pictures of Immortal during your "cool new black metal phase," you'd know that King left Gorgoroth months ago due to ideological conflicts within the band [Music Issue, May 10]. There's just no WAY that he'd be chillin' with Infernus and rooting for the Brewers after all that bad blood! Burn on a crooked cross.



DEAR MERCURY—Galactic [doesn't] by any means or by the broadest definition qualify as a hippie jam band [Music, July 5]. I listen to Galactic for the same reasons I drink the best brew and smoke the finest herb, it beats the shit out of listening to excruciating boring music like the Decemberists, drinking corporate piss like Pabst, or paying top dollar to my hippie dealer for grade B commercial herb because he doesn't like my cooler-than-thou snotty stuck-up hipster bitch attitude. Oh, and how original: a hippie patchouli slam. The thing is, ignorant fucks like you don't have the olfactory senses to realize that petro-chemical toxic underarm deodorants, perfumes, and colognes smell just as bad! You want to hear a good hippie joke? How many Deadheads does it take to change a light bulb? One to change it, 10 to record it, and a few thousand to follow it around the country after it's burnt out.

Shameless Hippie


DEAR MERCURY—You motherfuckers! I was so mad when I saw you leaked a page of the new Harry Potter book in your publication last week [New Column!, July 19]! I was fucking pissed... then I realized that I am a 22-year-old man who was planning to wait around with 500 children at midnight on a Friday night to get a kid's book. Oh Portland Mercury, what have I become?

Ryan Whyte


DEAR MERCURY—It's that time of the year again. That time I write to you and tell you how much you fuck pigs. You dirty, dirty pig fuckers. Well, I guess my job here is done. See you next year.

Noah Adams


To give our employees a well-earned rest, the Mercury will NOT be published next week! This issue contains all the listings you need for the next two weeks, and we hope you'll rejoin us as we emerge once again, refreshed, renewed, and ready to roar on THURSDAY, JANUARY 10! (If you miss us too much, check in for daily updates at Blogtown, PDX—blogtown.portlandmercury.com.)