Tit for tat: I love women who bitch about the word "bitch." They're so naively earnest, like Becky Due ("Bitch, Bitch, Bitch," July 27). And like Leon, who left that groveling male apologia on Becky's blog. I like to jerk their chains!
Becky should be flattered by all the attention paid to her gender in the English vocabulary. The more words a language has to describe a thing, the more important that thing is to the language's speakers. Spaniards have words for more than thirty kinds of bull. Eskimos have at least nine words for snow, each of which has its linguistic variations. English has more euphemisms for "drunk" than does Italian, while Spanish beats both with 69 terms for getting potted. Sailors have coined approximately 390 words for wind.
There are a lot of Anglo-Saxon words describing women and their parts, because women and their parts are the preeminent preoccupation of Anglo-Saxon civilization. Be proud of your tits, boobs, buns, snatch and nitty-gritty, Becky!
Oh"nitty-gritty" is a bit of 1930s Negro slang that refers specifically to the last two inches of a vagina.
A site for sore ears: Your link to Becky Due's site on her blog works, but there isn't anything on her "bitch crusade" there. I wanted to see what she thought of the use of the variant "beeyotch." Probably against that, too.
Editor's note: The B-word campaign link has been moved to www.committoyourself.com.
It's not easy being green: With regard to "Barking Up the Wrong Tree" (Off Limits, July 20), it's interesting to note that the mayor's Greenprint Denver initiative makes no mention of one of the most important and long-lasting decisions facing the city: the choice of vehicle for the numerous FasTracks lines currently being planned. While diesel technology would negatively impact the air we breathe and extend our reliance on non-renewable energy sources, electric trains are quiet, have superior capabilities and can run on the wind. Let's have some foresight and make a real difference.
Road hogs: Regarding last week's letters, while I agree that bikes have the right to share the road with automobiles, bicyclists need to both use common sense and obey the traffic laws. Do not think that you are immune from the requirements to signal lane changes or stop for stop signs and stoplights, and do not attempt to pass vehicles on the right that have their right turn signals on.
As far as common sense goes, attempting to exercise your rights against a 2,000-pound-plus vehicle will inevitably result in the bicyclist being injured or killed if the vehicle driver is not paying attention. No law written by man has ever changed the laws of physics.
Man of mystery: Thank you for your article on Russell Enloe ("American Ace," July 13). It is only fitting that letters and stories continue to be shared about this enigmatic man. Though his broken leg, many surgeries and pain pills certainly weakened his heart and set these events in motion, the truer story lies in the "Urban Flight" article by Jared Jacang Maher on March 30.
Having lived in the Baker District for seven years, I frequented, was privy to and witnessed many of the horror stories about the South Broadway slumlords, with their crumbling buildings, bad plumbing, leaky, inferior roofs and questionable electricity.
These landlords refuse to fix problems and haggle or deny any credits or reimbursements for any improvements the proprietors might have made themselves. They have no loyalty to the years you may have been a tenant and refuse to sell any of these properties, all the while increasing rents because they are jealous of what prices another particular location may be commanding. They would rather drive out good businesses in hopes of landing another 3 Kings-type lease.
Russell knew a lot of people from all walks of life, and his involvement with drugs (this time) was a last-ditch effort to save his business, not unlike one John DeLorean.
Funny man: Adam Cayton-Holland's rant about the hallucination machine (What's So Funny?, July 27) is quite possibly the funniest thing I have ever read. Granted, I was very hung over and possibly even still drunk when I read it. Still, my friend and I cried tears of joy while we laughed obnoxiously loud -- so loud, in fact, that everyone at Ink decided to have their coffee outside in the 90-degree weather that morning. Thank you for enabling us to laugh away an excruciating hangover and bother all the middle-aged coffee drinkers.