DEAR MERCURY—I am writing in response to last week's I, Anonymous in which somebody who is apparently a "true liberal" complains about some of the folks who have moved here in the last seven years ["Anti-Immigration," Nov 23]. Why only the last seven years, I wonder? I'll tell you why—it's because the writer is a GODDAMNED IMMIGRANT him or herself. So—to the hip, upwardly mobile art school dropouts who come here to run away from their boring existences: If you are going to act like this city only encompasses the area between the West Hills and E 52nd, make MY rent more expensive with those checks your mom sends every month, and skid around in front of my CAR with your lightless "fixie" on a rainy night, GO SOMEWHERE ELSE.



DEAR MERCURY—Ezra Caraeff's "The Album vs. The Single" piece for the Once More With Feeling column [Nov 23], deserves a retort. (1) I can't see how there's anything inherently better about albums over singles. (2) This isn't a new thing. Until the mid-'60s or so, albums were pretty much a novelty afterthought. (3) Indierock is not in competition with rap, and if it was, indierock would not be the clear winner in hardly any respect. (4) Side note: The term "indierock" doesn't even mean anything anymore, but if it does, the Shins and the Postal Service barely count, and the Decemberists don't count at all. (5) Going out of the way to rip on hiphop as a genre that is supposedly less pure and more pop-oriented neglects to consider hundreds, maybe thousands, of likeminded hiphop acts that aren't on the radio, who work their circuit with the same dedication to craft and quality as any indierock band.

Dustin Krcatovich


DEAR MERCURY—I have just been sent the link to your story relating to the plight of one Bob Averill and his suspension from the Art Institute of Portland ["Suspension of Disbelief," News, Nov 23, which recounts Averill's dismissal from the school as the result of a conversation he had with a fellow student regarding her belief in Leprechauns]. On its website the Art Institute of Portland states, "We respect a myriad of lifestyles, cultures, opinions, and interests." I would suggest that upholding the idea that a group of little people from Irish mythology is real is pushing those sentiments a little too far.

 Richard Salt


HELLO PORTLAND MERCURY—This email is simply to answer Matt Davis' question on his blog posted on November 24, as to why he did not understand, "...why you would need to spend two hours warming up your drums. They're DRUMS! You hit them, they go 'boom!'" I am in high school and I happen to play drums. It is important for us to warm up, not for the drum, but for our ears, so we can "warm up" into playing in time. I'm sorry that they woke you up at 7 am; maybe you should have expected that from the Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Ryan Knowles


DEAR MERCURY—I was reading your "Thanks a Lot, A-Hole" piece last week [Feature, Nov 23] and I realized that you forgot someone—the Libertarian a-hole. So, as a part of my generosity, let me finish the a-hole list for you: Nice Hummer a-hole. Seems you woke up this morning, opened the Wall Street Journal, and grumbled about how all those Third World-ers just don't get it. After scoffing at those who made your $150 shirt for three cents, you decide that today would be a good day to buy your bi-annual gas-sucking, toxin-pumping, gene-mutating hunk of symbolic penis. So you trade in your measly eight-cylinder, 400 horsepower SUV for the real deal. And since then you have oh-so-enjoyed pulling out of your overpriced home at the top of a state park next to all the old-growth trees and seeing bikers pass out on the side of the road as you drive by. Come to think of it, why not just install the gun turret option package and have a real blast with the bikers as you corner a turn, crushing the child-sized Priuses like a normal vehicle would crush a soda can?


CONGRATULATIONS TO ARTHUR for his searing indictment of the Libertarian Party and the offensive Hummer vehicle. Too help soothe Arthur's agitation, we're forking over two tickets to the Laurelhurst Theater and lunch for two at No Fish! Go Fish!, where "hummers" refer to things you can't drive.