DEAR MERCURY—In reference to Spencer Bailey's brilliant contribution on the topic of homelessness [Letters, Nov 16, in which Bailey deplores Old Town as a "sea of homeless refuse"]. By all means, let's enact draconian measures against the homeless so that people quit pissing on Spence's stairs. I'm sure the folks who suddenly find their own steps awash in golden showers will think that's a fucking brilliant solution, because you see, Spence, that ill-conceived [sit-lie] ordinance does nothing to address the root causes of homelessness. But hey, as long as Spence is happy, right?

Tiffany Stoneman


DEAR MERCURY—This is for you, "Self-Reflectionist" [I, Anonymous, Nov 16, in which an anonymous author rails against the pettiness of I, Anonymous complaints]. There's nothing more entertaining than a person whining about other people's whining. That's the greatest thing about I, Anonymous. It's everyday people bitching about everyday things, and it's entertainment! Sadly, not everybody can be as holy and altruistic as you. By the way, where ever did you find the time between feeding the abused homeless kids, draining gargantuan tumors, polishing iron lungs, and helping cancer patients pick out wigs to sit and write YOUR I, Anonymous?

Still Blinded    


DEAR MERCURY—This is in response to that "I, Anonymous" public service announcement foisted on us by a self-righteous twit [Nov 16]: Lighten. The. Fuck. Up.

I happen to BE one of those people who had the kind of shitty fucking life YOU seem to think we all need to be aware of. I've been through shit so terrible, the only thing that's saved my ass on numerous occasions has been the ability to laugh it off. Yes, there's a lot of fucked-up shit going on in the world. Our best bet is to help each other out on the serious stuff (seriously—if you don't narc out a neighbor that's abusing their spouse or kids, you are going to hell), try to vote for things that give a hand to those who need it most and, FOR FUCK'S SAKE, let people alone when they want to bitch about petty shit in the I, Anonymous so that people like me can have something to laugh about.



DEAR MERCURY—Oh, Amy Jenniges, you have lost some foodie points ["The Language of Food," Feature, Nov 16, in which Jenniges' entry for "X" in her A-Z vocabulary guide reads, "There are no food terms beginning with X."]. In the index of On Food and Cooking, the Science and Lore of the Kitchen, there are several references to "X"-related food terms, the most applicable of which are: Xanthophylls: pigments of the carotenoid group that give plants their yellow and orange colors, it is also responsible for the yellow color of egg yolk. Xanthosoma: a genus of new world plants, many grown for their starchy tubers and considered a subsistence crop for some cultures. Xiandan: salted eggs. And can "latte" really be considered a foodie term??


DEAR SIRS AND MADAMS—I was ever so casually perusing the music section, and suddenly stumbled into a little paragraph about Federico Garcia Lorca in the midst of an Argumentix review ["Night Marching," Music, Nov 16]. Not only was it giving it up to dear Señor Lorca, but to duende as well! I have been scaring girls by talking about death and poetry and Lorca (who is my FAVORITE poet) for years, and suddenly there is this peach, this angel, this VISION of a music reviewer who leaps out of the sad gray pages and punches me right in the heart! I'll speak plainly: Salina Nuñez—I think that we should get married IMMEDIATELY. I'm thinking that mayhaps we actually move to Andalusia and raise as many Spaniard progeny as you see fit. We should grow old together, and on our deathbeds, our entire lives will telescope back before us and we'll think of your Argumentix review kindly and sigh and exhale our names into the ether after long laughter. Sounds PRETTY rad doesn't it?

CONGRATULATIONS TO NATHAN for his compelling mating call to music writer Salina Nuñez! Just one thing—if this works out, will you at least consider naming one of your Spaniard offspring "Mercury"? Just sayin'. In the meantime, Nathan wins two tickets to the Laurelhurst Theater and lunch for two at No Fish! Go Fish!, where all good babies are made.