He's gorgeous, all right: I just wanted to say thank you for Mike Seely's well-written article ["Drop-Kick Gorgeous," November 24], which gave my dear friend Gary Jackson some long-overdue recognition. He has always been the greatest guy to work with in the pro-wrestling biz. I can't wait to get back to St. Louis to get him to autograph my copy of the Riverfront Times! Thanks for that superb article!
Jack "The Magic Man" Sinn,
retired pro-wrestling manager
Granite City, Illinois
Almost history: Contrary to what Dana Plonka may think, she and her friends are the only people around who are fed up with Beatle Bob [Letters, November 17]! He is the coolest cat around, and everyone I know loves and adores the man. He is almost St. Louis history -- a tradition, if you will. The man has good taste in music, and I think he is an important supporter of a lot of local music. I dread the wait between sets, and Beatle Bob adds a little pizzazz! And for an older guy, he can still drop it likes it's hot and rock out a lot harder than some kids I know!
I go to three to four concerts around the city a week and am highly disappointed when I don't see him. He should get the respect owed to him. And Dana dear, if that was the experience you came away from the concert with, it must not have been a very good show. Lighten up a bit.
And she doesn't deserve to be Italian: Is Meagan Martorelli for real [Street Talk, November 24]? I mean, under the hair dye, the eyeliner, the mascara, the blush, the lipstick, the lip liner, the eyeshadow, the Da Vinci veneers and the colored contacts -- is she really serious? You know, I've often suspected that there were vapid, plucked, tweezed, highlighted, spray-tanned, makeup-mirror-jockeying, air-headed, walking Max Factor test palettes out there who actually believed that being unattractive is a crime. But I never thought that I would see one idiotic enough to put that shallow viewpoint into print next to their name and picture.
So, Meagan Martorelli, speaking as a construction worker who often, in the course of my work day, actually gets hot and dirty (oh, the horror), I doubt that my unattractive body is nearly as offensive as your ugly soul. How about you go back to your three-hour daily Revlon ritual, keep spending Daddy's money on term papers, and leave the opining to people who are deeper than a mud puddle? I feel sad that such an insensitive, self-obsessed person would be running around loose on a university campus, where impressionable young minds could be infected by you. I hope not all the students at Webster U. have not only mistaken style for substance, but actually accepted style as substance.
Now, take this letter to one of your teachers, Meagan, so he can explain it to you. And change your name to Meagan Martin. You don't deserve to be Italian.
Bradley S. Veltre
Young guns: I believe "Deer, Guns, and Videotape" [Randall Roberts, November 17] to have a liberal/anti-hunting slant, and I would like to say that not all hunters are like that. We do not all view hunting as a means of making a living or just a "thrill kill." Many hunters, like myself, do not condone this style of style of hunting and, in fact, try to end this. This letter by a fifteen-year-old may not change the way people think, but please do not judge us by these people.
Expect the unexpected! I'm embarrassed for you. It was bad enough when the wack-a-loon Ray Hartmann ran the paper. We all knew Ray would take the opposite side of any debate -- hell, he'd probably have something good to say about child molesting. I read your paper when Unreal first came out. If that wasn't a total embarrassment (which obviously it was, since you've toned it down), I couldn't think of worse. Well, I must say you've got better. But not by much.
I suppose Unreal appeals to a certain segment of your audience, and I know you've got to sell space. But there are some who still see the RFT appealing to the, well, stupid. Perhaps I'm a bit harsh. Kids in junior high school probably like Unreal and fart jokes. Great humor. Right up there with "professional" wrestling.
It's obvious that I don't live inside the city limits (as I can read), but I believe that the audience to which you are trying to appeal with said column simply does not read. Why would they? They can watch NASCAR and Monster Whatever and probably already ate their red crayons (thinking they were either cherry or strawberry). While I can't speak for most of your readers, there are most likely others who share my sentiment. Although I'd bet that few of them would admit to reading such pabulum.
Oh, to have a press that does not cater to the corporations or the lowest common denominator -- that would be my wish. Obviously, this idea gets in the way of giving away newspapers; as such, I never expect to see this in print.
In the December 1 installment of Radar Station, we mistakenly referred to the Highway Matrons' "Got the Blues for Christmas" as a Peter Green cover. It is, in fact, an original song penned by the Matrons' Fred Friction.
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