Letters to the Editor

The Skyline's the Limit

The kids are all right: Regarding Michael Paglia's "Sunset for Skyline," in the May 15 issue:

I am one of the kids who used to hang out at Skyline Park, and to hear the language used by city officials and the media regarding the kids who hang out there is saddening and offensive. They are not "mall rats" there to pester the yuppies at their al fresco seating. They are just there to hang out, and as Skyline is a public space, it is their right to do so. The city could put anything there short of an electrified cage and the kids will still hang out at that space, so there is no reason to destroy it.

At the college I am currently attending, Skyline Park is in a textbook on landscape architecture. So its destruction saddens me, because I know the kids will always be there -- but unfortunately, Lawrence Halprin's masterpiece won't be.

Julio Trujillo

No parking zone: I am in shock after reading Michael Paglia's article about Skyline Park being demolished. Denver is going to hell in a handbasket. What can I do? What can Denverites who care do? I was upset with the Denver Post building going down, I was furious about the May D&F plaza, but this is just too ludicrous. Closing public libraries and crying no money in the budget, then spending $3 million to destroy a park and build another?

Cynthia Waldrop

What's Up?

All's well that ends well: Regarding The City, in the May 15 issue:

C'mon, guys, even we Atheists know that "The End Times" include the Rapture, not the Ascension.

Rob Granhold
via the Internet

Seven-Year Bitch

From gangster to wankster: Regarding David Holthouse's "Justin Got His Gat," in the May 8 issue:

You've got to be kidding me. Justin Green is unjustly serving a seven-year sentence? He's just a good kid who got caught up in the world of gangster rap? Please tell me this is some sort of joke. Dude ain't nothing more than a little wannabe punk who thought owning an assault rifle and singing along with 'Pac made him hard.

Poor Justin. His privileged upbringing with his lawyer mom and engineer dad and all of their friends of power "was not satisfying to [his] inner self, to [his] soul, to [his] heart." So Justin got real fucked up on Xanax and alcohol one night, threw on his fly Karl Kani and his visor (which he undoubtedly wore both backwards and upside down like every other dorky rich white kid trying to look gangsta) and went into a party with a chip on his shoulder and ran his mouth. Once things got heated, he ran home and got his assault rifle. That's right, his assault rifle, even though his mommy and daddy's influential attorney friends swear "he is a kind, respectful young man that [they] trust completely." Excuse me, Miss Former Denver District Court Attorney: No one who owns an AK-47 can be trusted completely.

So anyway, Justin brings his gun back and fires fifteen to twenty shots above the house by his own groggy admission, with one actually entering the home occupied by 25 or so people who have done nothing to this guy. After his ultra-brilliant escape plan of walking a stray dog to Wash Park to dispose of the gun failed, Justin decided he best find a suitable copout. So he chooses gangster rap. I'm sorry, Justin, but like you, I gravitated toward hip-hop for its alternating tales of anger, despair and power -- and not once did I stop off at the local gun stop and pick up an Egyptian assault rifle, let alone shoot up a house full of strangers. Although I certainly had no rich and powerful parents like Justin did, at least I had the sense to distinguish between my reality and the reality of Snoop, Cube, Pac, 50 or whoever else it is his dumb ass listened to.

So what do Justin's parents do about this? Well, take him to Spain, of course. Nothing would make a child see the errors of his ways like an exotic trip to beautiful España, right? These people are idiots.

But when it comes to idiocy, David Holthouse certainly gives Justin and his clueless parents a run for their money. How much harder could you ride this yokel's jock? You are supposed to be a journalist, Mr. Holthouse. Your story was so one-sided in favor of Mr. Green that you should never, ever be allowed to refer to yourself as a journalist. Dick-rider would be a better title for you. You are supposed to be objective and present both sides of the story. While it appears you did at least speak to the prosecuting DA, your writing makes it clear that you do not agree with her, and your attempt to make her out as the enemy is both unprofessional and obvious. You even go so far as to insult the judge, saying he had a "disturbingly loose" understanding of the case, because "no bullets were fired 'into the house,'" when you yourself report that one bullet in fact did. The story in itself is certainly an interesting one, but your blatantly biased telling of it leaves much to be desired.

KEEP WESTWORD FREE... Since we started Westword, it has been defined as the free, independent voice of Denver, and we'd like to keep it that way. With local media under siege, it's more important than ever for us to rally support behind funding our local journalism. You can help by participating in our "I Support" program, allowing us to keep offering readers access to our incisive coverage of local news, food and culture with no paywalls.