Please refrain from using such hurtful and ignorant phrases in your paper.
Drug bust: Leave it to Westword to publish Alan Prendergast's fine "Hiding in Plain Sight," in the April 13 issue, only to follow it up with a mournful, ill-informed conspiracy theorist's letter from Christian Peper. Harris was prescribed Luvox for anger management, and a small amount was found upon autopsy. Witnesses suggested he stopped taking it suddenly before Columbine, which could definitely induce negative side effects, especially if he was substituting it with Jack Daniel's. But even if Luvox did account for Harris's mania, then what for Klebold's?
SSRIs are not "the true cause of Columbine" any more than bullets, guns or bad parents are. Every innocent person at Columbine was killed by two very ambitious, hell-bent psychopaths who gleefully tossed aside what consciences they may have once had. The "Luvox made 'em do it" is great for lawsuits, and the pharmaceutical conspiracy theory is right up Oliver Stone's plot-deprived alley. Send it to him.
Big tab, big top: I read with interest Amber Taufen's "Pitching a Tent," in the April 27 issue, inviting women to unite at Stephanie Beacher's version of Anita Diamant's red tent. Come on, Ms. Beacher, 'fess up: You didn't actually read the book, did you? I mean, her red tent was a sanctuary for women to escape to once a month from the men who bought and sold them, where they could retreat into each others' company to laugh at their shared husband and find comfort in their seclusion. There they overcame jealousy and personal disappointment. They birthed each other's babies and shared ways to stop more from coming. Anita's red tent had a bloodied straw floor.
Ms. Beacher's attempt to re-create the experience of sisterhood manifests itself in what is no more than a temporary day spa in downtown Boulder. A place where women can feed their vanity and self-indulgence. Where they feel entitled to be rubbed and massaged by subservient strangers and drop $75 for the privilege. Is this how modern American women connect? With a facial, a foot bath and a massage? Sadly, I think it is, and sadder still is the realization that after 2,000 years, women are now more isolated from each other and their bodies more objectified.
Ms. Beacher, I suggest that if you truly want to connect with your suffering sisters in a tenderly loving way, you stack up that pile of U.S. bills (I assume you didn't take the credit-card reader into such a sacred place) and deliver your stash to the nearest Planned Parenthood facility or your local shelter for homeless and abused women.
The flight stuff: Regarding Robert Wilonsky's "Fear of Flying," in the April 27 issue:
United 93 is a wonderful portrait of courage. But in the context of America's current foreign policy, it comes off as a familiar bit of wound-licking. Every nation has a tale of the day the world did them dirt, and United 93 is America's.
But what's more remarkable is that, when people abroad see the Michael Moore movie Fahrenheit 9/11, viewers are surprised that a person is allowed to do that in America, allowed to be so critical of a sitting president. It's an unintended effect, because by being so harsh, the movie ends up giving every American something to be proud of, proving to the world that America is still somewhat free. This is why, with the world being convinced that our president means to destroy Islam, no one's come over here and blown us off the map. Face it: We're an open society. They could do it any time they wanted.
So, really, it's not the chest-thumping "These colors don't run" that has kept us relatively safe since 9/11. It's that this guy out of nowhere gets to film our president's most embarrassing moments, make it into a movie and inspire debate. That's why angry fanatics stay their sarin gas and their bombs. Not because we "have the terrorists on the run." Obviously, we don't. Bush gave up trying to capture bin Laden years ago. We're safe only because even angry people still admire something about this place.
Hope it stays that way, don't you?
via the Internet
Hit or miss: Every Thursday, when Westword updates on the Internet, I dash right over and check out Jason Sheehan's restaurant reviews. I read his reviews when I worked in a restaurant in Denver, and I keep reading them now, even though I moved away two years ago.