A Side of O.J.
Like pretty much everybody I know, I'm obsessed with O.J. Simpson. I've watched every minute of TV coverage I could and have read every story I could find. But at the same time I was "thirsting" for more O.J., I still thought my obsession was something to be ashamed of until I read Bill Gallo's "Slashing Moves" in the July 6 issue. If a man as obviously intelligent as Gallo admits to being obsessed, then it must be okay for the rest of us. Way to go, Bill! Thanks for making my latest hobby legit.
As a former battered wife, I find the outpouring of sympathy for O.J. Simpson an outrage. What about the two people who are dead and the children left without a mother?
I was battered by my then-husband, who is a police officer. The officers that responded to the call did not arrest him because of the type of work he does. They were concerned for his job. Colorado may have the best domestic-violence laws in the country--but that's only if it applies them.
Bill Gallo wonders where all the O.J. jokes are. Here's my favorite:
Did you hear that Hertz has a new job for O.J.? He's going to be making their license plates.
Thought you might get a chuckle. I did.
Kyle Wagner should be ashamed of herself. In the July 6 Mouthing Off, she makes a comment about how her husband "fortunately" didn't strike her. She may have intended this to be taken as a joke, but there is nothing comical about domestic violence. I'm certain Nicole Simpson didn't find it funny.
Their Passions Are in Tents
Kenny Be's July 6 Worst-Case Scenario, "When Nature Calls," on how to take a dump in the wilderness, was so funny--and so true!--I laughed my ass off. I knew there was a reason I gave up camping.
Kenny Be's camping "cartoon" was absolutely disgusting. This toilet humor has no place in a publication such as Westword.
As a regular reader of Westword, I saw the June 22 article regarding the problems between Barry Hirschfeld and the Hirschfeld Press union (Eric Dexheimer's "Prints Charming").
I found it interesting, but it had no personal meaning for me at the time. Then my family and I went to the Cherry Creek Arts Festival. There were some union people outside the festival giving out balloons inscribed "Barry Be Fair." Since our group included a four-year-old and a one-year-old, we of course took the balloons and, due to your article, were aware of the intended message. As we entered the festival site, we were surrounded by festival lackeys who informed us that we could not take the balloons into the festival. We were told by these toadies that the balloons were a "fire hazard," if you can believe that one, and were forced to take the balloons away from two small children. Later, when my husband asked the fire department about this supposed rule, he was told they would never have said such a thing, since helium is an inert substance. As we walked through the festival, we noticed other balloons and a Hirschfeld Press booth. We also heard over a police radio that the "picketers" were being forced to move and materials taken from them. These tactics have convinced me of the unconscionable zealotry being displayed by Barry Hirschfeld. It is too bad the arts festival was a willing participant. It is ironic that an event celebrating art should be used to simultaneously stifle personal expression.
Who's That Knocking?
As a forty-something parent of two, I found the letter authored by "Somebody From Nowhere" in the June 29 Westword to be compelling enough in its self-indulgent pity and anger to merit a response.
Disturbing to me was the author's stereotyping of the boomers as lazy, poor excuses for parents and his/her ignorance of the realities of parenthood. It was easy for us to blame all the ills of the world on our parents, and it still is. Had Mr./Ms. "Nowhere" heard the early-Seventies pop tune by Harry Chapin titled "Cat's in the Cradle," he/she would have come to the potential realization that being a good and caring parent was a topic that the boomers--and every other human generation--were vitally concerned with.
If, someday, the author of the letter has children of his/her own and arrives home after ten, twelve or more hours of work in a state of total exhaustion, I know how the ultimate choice will turn out between parking the kids in front of the TV or preparing meals, washing clothes and cleaning the house! The reality of life in this piece of the twentieth century is that spouses also work, grandparents live far away and we all aren't trust-fund parasites who can buy nannies. But we can take the kids to the zoo on weekends.