First, let me say that in all my years of dancing I'll admit that I've accidentally elbowed and stepped on some people's feet and trod on their territory, but never have I made any sexual advances to any woman dancing next to me. Anybody who's ever seen me at a show can testify that I'm usually in the front row, facing the band, and dancing completely oblivious to those around me. There has never been a single club owner, or anyone on their security staff, who has had to throw me out or warn me about getting promiscuous with a woman during a concert.
My question to that sleazoid Hirsch: If I was clearly lurching lustfully toward this lady repeatedly in front a crowd of witnesses, why didn't this poor girl report me to the security staff? Even more puzzling is why the chivalrous Mr. Hirsch, or those around him, didn't intercede on this woman's behalf. I talked to a number of my friends about your letter, both men and women, and they voiced the same questions. All of the women I talked to would have either reported this incident to security or given the aggressor a slap in the face or a swift knee to his groin.
Jeff, you bloody wanker, I'll simply forgive you for writing that unvalidated accusation about me, and suggest that you write a letter to Dan Savage and ask him and the readers of his column where the dance clubs are in St. Louis that feature the real dirty dancers.
Incoming shitbomb: Well, you win. The RFT wins the award for the Single Biggest Act of Hypocrisy Since Roy Cohn Persecuted the Gays [Chad Garrison and Malcolm Gay, "PostMortem," March 2 and March 9]. What on earth possessed you to think you could get away with publishing an article critical of the sale of the Post-Dispatch by the Pulitzer Corporation to another corporate hegemony? I seem to recall a fella name of Ray Hartmann selling out his beliefs to a media conglomerate called New Times, no?
Get off your high horse, you pathetic haters. If the sale of the Post is somehow ominous, the sale of the RFT has proven to be an utter shitbomb, no prognostication necessary. Unreal isn't funny. News of the Weird is gone. William Stage is gone. Ray Hartmann's liberal screeds are gone. The calendar is gone. The incisive writing of Eddie Silva is gone. Alison Sieloff writes like the RFT is her high school paper. (It's not funny, honey, it's just lame.) I virtually never agree with the opinions of the movie reviewers. Hello? The City comic strip has sucked for more than a decade. And your covers are often screaming for attention: "Hey! Look at this!" sensationalism.
(Why do I read the RFT? Savage Love, mainly.)
For a long time now, the Post has had nothing to lose. The complexity of the writing, like that of most dailies, hovers around the fourth-grade level. It's as moronic as society at large. And you know all that; that's why Unreal has made fun of the Post so much, right? It's an easy target. (I know you took special pride in getting Daniel Finney fired for his idiotic blogging escapades. You said as much by the act of printing a follow-up story. Cute, guys!) But now that the once-proud dynasty has died, it's time to mourn. With two cover stories, no less.
"In Money We Trust." What a bunch of hypocrites you are. Isn't it time for an exposé on the corporate takeover of the "alternative" media? Weasels.
Frank X. Johnson
Pow! Right in the kisser! I just read Chad Garrison's piece on Samir ["I Punched Saddam in the Mouth," April 13]. Only in the USA could an auto mechanic ever get the chance to punch a bloodthirsty dictator like Saddam right in the mouth. Wow, thanks for that great story!
Into the Fire
Blatant ignorance: An Internet friend shared your "Lard Have Mercy" article [Unreal, June 15]. Unreal thoroughly succeeded in nurturing the negative stereotype of BBWs. I found that the article bore the stench of snotty high school mentality. I am grossly offended. You need to learn to walk a few miles in the moccasins of the people you write about. The suggestion that you stuffed yourself with food prior to and after your task was clear indication of your blatant ignorance.
As a BBW, I'm a gentle, soft-spoken woman. I've worked hard all of my life to present myself in a neat, ladylike and intelligent manner. People like you make it difficult to be seen as such. We are not all like Roseanne, the fat Anna Nicole Smith or Kirstie Alley. Believe me, fat is not always synonymous with lazy, stupid, piggish, obnoxious or slovenly.
I believe that you need to either publish an apology to BBWs, or find someone to do a follow-up article with a less bigoted point of view. Someone who may represent us in a more positive light. We can't all be Barbie dolls or Calista Flockharts.
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