ON BOOBS

DEAR MERCURY—In response to I, Anonymous, Dec 20: Your
letter, “Mind Your Mammaries,” sadly proves how in people’s minds,
breastfeeding is much like a sexual act. You are the dent in society
that has rendered the breast as only an object of sexuality. Just
because we are breastfeeding children doesn’t mean we are in a cult or
are feminists on our high horse. You undoubtedly aren’t a mother. I
applaud all women and men who support public breastfeeding and risk the
scorn of a misinformed and bitter woman like yourself.   

 Cali C.

SANITY’S LAP

DEAR MERCURY—Thanks to Wm. Steven Humphrey for the
Santa’s lap article this week [“Up on Santa’s Lap,” Feature, Dec 20]!
When a crazy old bag lady ordered a bagel and coffee and paid for
all of it in pennies and nickels while non-stop whinging about her
ungrateful children, instead of lunging over the counter and tearing
her throat out with my teeth, I just muttered to myself “Chocolate
Santa” and chuckled a little.

Melissa Shirley

A CRY FOR HELP

DEAR MERCURY—I hate to point out the obvious, but I’ve
read your scathing words toward “vegan cyclists who smoke” enough times
to feel the need to do so [“Things Not Invited Back to 2008,” Feature,
Dec 27]. I’m VEGAN because it depresses the shit out of me to eat flesh
and otherwise cause suffering to living things. I BIKE as an
alternative to the glaring destruction caused by both absurdly
inappropriate methods of transport and oil dependency. And I
SMOKE, on the street and in backyards, and the harm I cause is reserved
to my own lungs—because when it comes down to it, the only thing
I’m okay with hurting is myself.

Mandee

THE NATIVES ARE RESTLESS

DEAR MERCURY—Pardon the rage, but: well, who the hell
invited you in 2007 [“Things Not Invited Back to 2008,” Feature, Dec
27]? Because I bet that’s when you moved here and got some ugly haircut
that you wear while you swill PBR tall boys and talk about growing up
in Michigan and how maybe next you’ll move to Providence.

Jennifer

WE ARE WHAT WE EAT

DEAR MERCURY—Greetings. I enjoyed Alison Hallett’s
review of Michael Pollan’s In Defense of Food: An Eater’s
Manifesto, and have been glued to much of Pollan’s work over the
years [Arts, Dec 27]. Hallett alleges with some smugness that Pollan’s
advocacy of whole and local foods is “hardly revelatory” to eaters in
Portland, which “practically coined the term ‘farm to table.'”
Certainly Portland has made much hubbub about certain chefs and their
conspicuous return to farm-to-table eating, but Portland is hardly any
sort of epicenter. But also… I feel like it’s important to note that,
like street crime sensationalized on the news, farm-to-table eating in
Portland seems like as much a topic du fad as a solid tradition or
practice. Having run a restaurant in Oregon I can tell you that a huge
majority of the food we all eat on a daily basis commits many of the
sins that Pollan illustrates, and unless you actually eat at Le Pigeon
for three meals a day every day, you’re probably eating FrankenTomatoes
from the Salinas Valley or Argentina on the regular.

Chris Lohrey

COOL WRAP

DEAR MERCURY—I wanted to say thanks for making the
Portland Mercury excellent wrapping paper for those of us who
are poor, or don’t see the point of paying for something when it is
provided for free every Thursday in boxes spread around the
city. It is great, and sometimes people think it’s cool that I
used a weekly paper for wrapping their gift instead of
wrap-specific goods, which is odd because I’m not cool. 
 

 Mark Walsh

CONGRATULATIONS TO MARK for recognizing one of the many
non-literary uses of the Portland Mercury. Don’t forget, we are
also great for lining birdcages, stuffing shoes and boots so they
retain their shape, and—in a grave pinch—wiping your nose
or ass (be wary of ink stains). Mark wins two tickets to the
Laurelhurst Theater and lunch at No Fish! Go Fish!, where he will be
treated like the cool guy that he is.