Letters to the Editor
Tideswimmer
Published Letters: 383 Editor's Choice: 47
-
Oh Reilly
[Read the article: The Democrats' best slogan: "Bush lost the war"]
[Read more letters about this article: Here]Bill O'Reilly is full of shit and he knows it. He's got the self-satisfied smirk of a schoolyard bully who is sure that no one will call him on his shit. This is a relief to him because he knows he's outgunned. This is why he's always on the attack.
Posing a ridiculous "yes or no" question and insisting on an answer is particularly childish, quite literally not deserving a response. So I think Maher's advice is still sound. The best way to deal with a bully is to call him on it right away. Reilly knows his question is utter bullshit, so his posing it is an an act of scorn and contempt; it should be answered with scorn and contempt. O'Reilly's bag of tricks are tired and shopworn. Take them away from him and he folds very quickly. There's just not much there.
-
There are other ways of getting an abortion
[Read the article: A case for parental notification]
[Read more letters about this article: Here]In Oregon, we are voting on a similar bill, Measure 43. The first thing I thought when I read it was "Why don't they just call it the back alley abortion bill?"
There are so many things wrong with the logic behind such a bill that I don't know where to begin. But chief among the logic flaws was that a teen desperate for an abortion would stay in legitimate medical channels even after that avenue had been shut off from them.
I don't have children, but I would hope that if I did I would have made it more than clear to them by their teen years that absolutely nothing they wanted to discuss would be off limits. If they hadn't come to understand this, I don't know what a mandatory letter could accomplish to make the situation better.
But it is also possible that even knowing my promise to listen, a child might fear to approach out of shame or embarrassment. Sad as that would make me, I would infinitely prefer that she get a safe abortion in a decent clinic than to seek out a desperation procedure god knows where.
Other than that, as a man, I can't imagine living in a world where people assume the right to control such a fundamental aspect of my physical and spiritual existence.
-
Her Plan?
[Read the article: Quote of the Day]
[Read more letters about this article: Here]Ah, yes. That would be Plan 9, which deals with the resurrection of the dead. Long distance electrodes shot into the pineal and pituitary gland of the recently dead.
Oh dear. Ann Coulter speaks. In other news, last night my dog ate some chili, and this morning he has emitted a series of randomly sequenced farts. Even at that, I could detect more evidence of a thought process behind the noxious blasts than I've ever been able to glean from anything Coulter has ever spewed. How has she ever managed to gain any traction at all?
-
Hmmmm.
[Read the article: All hail Pottersville!]
[Read more letters about this article: Here]I can't tell if this was written in jest or not. If not, I think it's too determinedly cynical.
Count me as one who moved from a Pottersville (Los Angeles) to a small town Bedford Falls in Oregon. It's a very liberal town, and people smile and talk to each other, and maybe even at that there can be an element of busy bodyism. On the other hand, it's small enough that if someone is in trouble, the town will rally and do something about it.
What made me flee Pottersville? Sure, there were a million and more things to do, at all hours of the day and night, but I gradually came not to care about those things.
I guess it could be the helicopters hovering over my apartment at midnight at least once a week (and I lived in a good area), the loudspeaker blaring out where some perp was hiding.
Mayb it was the time I saw one of my West Hollywood neighbors limping home through the courtyard after having been beaten by some gay bashing teens. (Admittedly, he had it coming; he was, after all, walking up the street after a trip to the grocery store.)
Maybe it was the rich movie producer-type asshole who missed killing me by inches in the crosswalk after ignoring a red light. "Fuck you!" he shouted by way of apology as he accelerated past me.
Maybe it was the way, when I got badly injured at work, all my "friends" came around and instead of wanting to know how I was doing, they wanted me to keep refilling my pain med prescription for as long as possible, and not take them, so "we could make a big score."
Or maybe it was the time I was walking on the beach, and an asshole walked by me and threw some trash by my feet because he didn't feel like walking the last three steps to the trash can. The big trash can that was RIGHT THERE. And I told him to pick it up and he said "Oh yeah?" and I said "Oh, most definitely, yeah." And he thought about it a second, and then he picked it up because he knew, because I new -- as I suddenly realized, much to my horror -- that if he didn't, I would not stop beating his ass until he was half fucking dead.
That's when I knew I had to find my Bedford Falls. Been here almost 18 years now. It's great. Come out sometime, Gary, and I'll show you around. Just don't throw trash on the beach, and you'll be fine.