So I want to go on record in a public forum stating that my establishment neither condones the drug activity nor caters to those who proliferate it. To the contrary, I've even been accused of racism by a journalist's investigator for refusing service to these people. (For the record, I've had more white folks arrested for drug issues than those of other ethnicities; the drug problem is color-blind, people.) If the Unsinkables really want to see this neighborhood improve, maybe they should start driving out some of the sources rather than the symptoms -- like the slumlords whose buildings do cater to the crack dealers/users.
Maybe they should garner support from the parents whose children attend Morey Middle School, only two blocks away. I know a number of the kids at the school, and I'm pretty sure their parents aren't aware of how bad the area has gotten. How about working with the local businesses instead of trying to drive them away? I've been here for five years and can count my encounters with the Unsinkables on one hand. Maybe if the whole community was included in their crusade, the environment over here would get better instead of deteriorating that much further.
Sticking it to Gallo: I have to call a five-minute major for sheer stupidity on Bill Gallo's "Ice Follies," in the October 28 issue. How anyone who actually leaves his home and ventures out into the city can call hockey a "game that's reportedly beloved in snowshoe country and obviously ignored everywhere else" leaves me at a loss for words. I guess your sheltered author hasn't heard about how much this is going to negatively affect the cash flow for local businesses.
I think for a while Gallo should stick to the four-walled world he obviously lives in, because right now every hockey fan in Denver thinks he's a moron.
Next time, he should write about a less physical sport with far less passionate fans. Maybe chess is more his speed.
Endangered species: I'm certain that Gregory Hill's "Dinosaurs Versus the President" comic book is side-splittingly funny (Off Limits, October 21), but it seems to me that an artist and social commentator of this guy's stature would want to avoid being laughed at by little kids. My eleven-year-old took a peek at the drawing and wondered where the "stegosauruses and T. rexes"were. She saw a brachiosaurus or maybe (she says) something that could pass for a pachysaurus on a dark and stormy Triassic night, but given the well-known toothsome visage of the T. rex and the unmistakable signature spinal sails of our state's official dino, she was rightly puzzled.
Anybody But Bushers really need to slow down and, as one of their spokesmen, Mr. Rather, suggested, "take a breath." Hateful, dim-witted stuff like this comic book has been coming fast and furious as the liberal desperation level rises faster than Dillon Reservoir during this year's "drought." Hill's comic probably has many libs forcing last-gasp chuckles from behind the gritted teeth in their death's head grimaces, but wouldn't Hill's spending a couple of minutes in a library, figuring out what the dinos he's drawing actually look like, make the "artist" seem at least slightly less stupid? Give it some thought.
Editor's note: We're thrilled that your eleven-year-old reads Westword, but might we suggest that she stay away from Savage Love for a few years? As for Gregory Hill's dinos, rest assured that if you look at the complete comic, every species mentioned is there.
Slam, bam: Thanks for quoting me in "Grunge Crock," David Holthouse's Billy Corgan article in the October 21 issue. Just to set the record straight, however, I am not a slam poet. I have never competed in slams at all, period.
There is a wide misconception going around that all those who are active in Chicago's performance-poetry scene are "slam" poets. You should be aware of this for future reference. Slam poets are only those poets who compete in the poetry competition known as the poetry slam. Though much of my own work is written with performance in mind, I do not write in the slam style, which puts more emphasis on performance than it does on the literary value of the work.
C. J. Laity
The emperor's new clothes: Regarding Laura Bond's "Girls Just Want to Have Fun," in the October 14 issue: