Prepare to Meat Your Maker
I feel compelled to comment about Reverend Harris, mentioned in T.R. Witcher's "A Hard Shot to the Ribs," in the April 22 issue. Please quote me.

Reverend Harris is slimy, lying, slithering, calculating and greedy. My opinion of him was formed after living behind his church for five years. He was, hands down, the worst neighbor I have had in my life. Thank God I moved far away, because I would have liked to have burned his church to the ground, with him inside (oh, well, another missed opportunity). However, knowing Reverend Harris, I'm sure he'll piss off somebody a hell of a lot badder than myself.

Mitch Keenan
Yucatan, Mexico

Post-Heart Attack
You need a new reviewer for your little company. John La Briola is a woman-hater, as far as I'm concerned--another man just jealous of the talents of Ann and Nancy Wilson (Playlist, May 13). It sounds like he likes them only if they can provide a hard-on for him. What a shame.

And Live at McCabes Guitar Shop--what a great CD by Nancy! John is apparently jealous that he is not some big hotshot director and still just some guy reviewing CDs. Wake up, everyone: Nancy's music is soooo good. Try listening.

Sandy McGovern
via the Internet

I just read John La Briola's overdue review of Nancy Wilson's solo effort and was left wondering where the review begins and his need to let us read of his seemingly Viagra-charged fantasies of the Wilson sisters ends? I have been a huge Ann and Nancy fan since their beginnings with Heart and even suffered through the big hair and overproduced output of the Eighties. Live at McCabes has barely left my car stereo since it came out. This is the finest material Nancy has ever written. It is far from "repackaged table scraps." Only a handful of these tunes were ever recorded before by Nancy!

As for Ann, she is not sitting at home quilting--both she and Nancy are soon to start a summer tour. They both also have been quite active in recording and touring for the past few years with their other group, The Lovemongers (they played the Church nightclub in December 1997). If John La Briola's Heart quotient were as high as his libido, he would be well aware that he need only put on their CD The Road Home and go to track thirteen if he really needs so desperately to hear "Barracuda" unplugged.

Even it up, John.
Dorothy Moran

Someone please give John La Briola some Ritalin, stat! The hyperactivity and hyphenated-dynamism of his sentences make my pupils shimmy like pachinko balls. Sure, goofing on the Wilson sisters is fun, a rite of passage, even, for pop-music crits. Hell, Robert Christgau's been doing it since--I don't know--he had long hair and still subscribed to Creem. But to waste a dozen or so column inches on an overly arch (so many parentheses!) turkey shoot--a snit fit better suited for some kid's Xeroxed 'zine--is really a shame.

Mitchell Duval
via the Internet

A Mickey Mouse Review
Sometimes a reviewer is so busy being smart that he misses the entire point of a show. Such is the case with Jim Lillie's insipid review of Kingdom ("A Day at the Scheme Park," May 20). When Lillie talks about thin characters, etc., he misses the playwright's brilliant treatment of the subject (Disney) as a perverse twist on the typical Disney formula. Hellesen has loaded his play with Disney stock characters to make the play more ironic. That the reviewer is unable to understand the irony is unfortunate for him, the play and, especially, your readers.

Peter Ellenstein
via the Internet

As the World Turns
Regarding Kyle Wagner's "Global Warning," in the May 13 issue:
My future wife and I stopped by Cafe Odyssey about two weeks ago. After eating at the Hard Rock Cafe, we'd decided Cafe Odyssey looked interesting and wanted to take some relatives there for a Saturday-night dinner. I inquired about reservations and was immediately told that they had no openings that evening and that I might check back in the "wee" hours, but she didn't expect I would be able to get into their supremely demanded resturant. I never even got to tell this maven of epicurean delights that the reservation I desired was for two weeks down the road. I felt insulted and abused.

My future wife and I make a decent living and can go anywhere we desire in this city or any other city, for that matter. After this brief encounter from a "punk and puke" who earns $6 an hour, we now know this restaurant shall never see a penny from our family. When these rude people are out in the street wondering what happened to their "great" place of work, I hope they don't re-enter the hospitality field, since they have not a clue as to what the word "hospitality" means.

Galen Erickson
via the Internet

ABBA Dabba Do
A hearty thanks to Michael Roberts for undertaking the April 15 "ABBA Experiment" so the rest of us don't have to! I could truly feel his pain, however, as his article sent me into a tizzy of 1970s flashbacks in which I recalled having to listen to my mom's ABBA albums. (Oy vey--the Captain & Tennille can't be too far behind, can they?) Thankfully, I've been able to purge the horror of the ABBA recollection with a nice healthy dose of Mike Ness and Social Distortion and continue about my day.

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