"...he clearly imagines himself to be writing to sympathetic, amused readers who admire his frenzied attempts to 'get laid.'"

A sad piece

Perhaps the saddest aspect of Stusser's piece ["Sex (or the lack thereof) and the City," 2/8] is that he clearly imagines himself to be writing to sympathetic, amused readers, people who admire his frenzied attempts to "get laid." Can you imagine anyone more pathetic, more in need of a good therapist, than this "playwright" (well, he is planning to be a playwright) who does not begin to understand why he can't get a date? Should he be encouraged to suspect that the disdain he brings to every encounter with a woman is a disguised form of his (thoroughly justified and transparent) unconscious disdain for himself?

A writer has at least some obligation to be aware of the effect that he is producing on his readers, but Stusser exposes, even satirizes, himself while trying desperately to create a persona that will seem to his readers worldly and sophisticated. How very sad. Really, he should be kept in a diorama somewhere as evidence of what occasioned the women's movement.



Just the sex

Having been to Hedo several times (and once is probably enough) I thought Michael's article ["It ain't no Temptation Island," 2/8] was a pretty good representation of what it really is all about. Mostly couples (mostly aging) wanting to respark THEIR relationship and a bunch of horny (young) guys who couldn't get laid in their own hometowns (regulars call them "Vinnies").

Though to be fair, if you are looking for a place to just go and turn the world off for a week (no phones, no TVs), lounge around in the nothing God gave you, and you don't mind the food (runs from awful to swallowable), cold and colder running water (when there is enough water pressure at all), not enough beach towels, and overly peppy Entertainment Coordinators who just can't figure out that some old dogs just want to listen to the waves lap up on shore, then Hedo can be a fine place for a single guy.

The analogy to 'Temptation Island' (the concept of which is even too stupid to imagine) was insightful. Relationships and true love take a lot of energy and effort to make them work.

If it's just the sex, there are some places outside of Las Vegas. Maybe Seattle Weekly should send Michael down there for his next article?



Your mission: to read this letter

Re: Mr. Stusser's snivel ["Sex (or the lack thereof) and the City," 2/8]—I can only sympathize with men in their 30s and 40s being unable to find in this city above-average females for a meaningful interaction. During my own post-divorce and -recovery years (about four), plenty of gentlemen who have walked into my life-orbit combined physical normalcy with the innate fineness and finesse. Their permanent state of being unattached appears to be their destiny, due to the kind, quiet inner subtlety of soul beautifully magnified by their gentlemanly demeanor. I have not fallen in Love with any of them, but that's a different topic.

After realizing that appearing at Benaroya Hall, jazz venues, poetry readings, etc., with one or another male friend I am not helping a potential prince to detect this long-legged brunette's current singleness, I decided to attempt finding activity partners who are single women as well. Who, I thought, would share with me at least the fundamentals— being warm at heart yet fervent, somewhat light yet not cynical, educated yet humble, picky yet willing to embark onto a romantic venture, graceful yet not into the gym-religion. . . . No chance! I've been disheartened by the young ladies' complete lack of interest in the Other's world; I was stunned by their almost common bitterness towards men, by their quick opportunism, and by their constant myth-making about the dates that didn't exist in reality, parties that never really took place, and so on. In addition to this self-image problem, many of them are also so in love with themselves that they can fear no contenders among men, I am sure.

So, I am giving up on that and am certainly glad that I am not one of Mr. Stusser's. To find in a woman a remarkable combination of charismatic looks and inner radiance, of decency and clemency, of excitement about the present and an ambition towards the future, seems to be Mission Impossible. In this city, at least. . . .



In defense of Kentucky

Campbellsville, Ky. [see "Aging Amazon," 2/8], is probably less third-world than most of Seattle. The quality of the workers and the work ethic they possess are much better. All you slick elitists need to stay in your office tower sucking on your $5 Starbucks coffee, because some of those mean anti-WTO people might ruffle your Armani suit. They couldn't have found a better place to protest. With attitudes like this, Seattle deserves whatever it gets!



Backroom deals

I covered the Legislature for The Bremerton Sun in the '50s, when Julia Butler Hansen ran the Highway Committee and Dan Evans was a freshman member. It was the time of the great debates concerning the bridging of Puget Sound to Kitsap County, repeatedly approved by the House under Julia's manipulations but eventually defeated in the Senate by one vote—including that of Kitsap's senator.

While I wasn't intimate with most of their backroom deals and "compromises" at the time, over the years I've enjoyed innumerable of those "reminiscent sessions" with old-time legislators. Some of the recollections I have shared, since they were related in private, likely were a bit racier than those discussed in the session you described.

Your article ["Missing the bad old days," 2/8] hit the mark—and a chord with me; I enjoyed it.



Sidran: Grist for us

Not surprising to read that Sidran is considering a run for the City's top job ["Mayor Sidran?" News Clips, 2/8], but if Sidran thinks he has any shot at the mayor's race, then he is less intelligent than I thought. Sidran is no Giuliani. Giuliani obtained "law-and-order" hero status by busting up the mob and sending them off to prison. Sidran thinks he is a hero for promoting laws against sitting on the sidewalk and peeing in public, and having poor people's cars towed. (Not to mention failing to get a conviction from 600 protesters he had arrested for exercising their right to peaceably assemble.) Sidran as mayor would have its upside though—the new mayor would provide lots of material for Seattle Weekly's seasoned writers. Can't wait for that.



They were joking, stupid

In response to Michael Krugman and Jason Cohen's statement in regards to Ken Burns' Jazz series that "1961 to 2000—because, really, nothing much of interest happened during those years. . . ." [The Culture Bunker, 2/8] What does that say for Wynton "Schmuck" Marsalis who influenced much of what was documented by Ken Burns? Nothing happened? What does that say for Miles Davis' "Bitches Brew" period, Pat Metheny, Keith Jarrett, Weather Report, John McLaughlin, Herbie Hancock, Coltrane was still composing in the '60s, Wayne Shorter, Bill Evans, Joe Henderson, Rahassan Roland Kirk. . . . What's the use, you guys wouldn't know a jazz tune if it hit you right between the fuckin' eyes. Try studying your subject and then top it by coming up with an original idea!



Insolent idiot column!!!

BRING BACK ROCKIE HOROSCOPE!!! I can't believe that with all the critical issues in our world I'm writing about this! But I read the Weekly for entertainment primarily, and my first read each week is Rockie Horoscope. Your new horoscope column [Sign Language, p. 99 this issue] is simply an excuse for one oversized ego to pontificate their opinions on obtuse "world" (???) issues and spout expletives. A more appropriate name for this column's subtitle "Stupefying Revelation" would be "Stupid Irrelevance"!

Having spent many years studying astrology as a means to assist with greater self awareness (NOT predict the future), I am appalled and offended at the crass tactics used to supposedly entice readers. Who relates to this garbage?! There is nothing remotely meaningful or relevant in this new column. Caeriel Crestin's column is simply an offensive version of obtuse astrology as a silly toy, ࠬa Sydney Omarr. BRING BACK ROCKIE HOROSCOPE!!! Rockie is grounded in her knowledge of astrology and the cycles of planetary movement. She writes with wit and humor and in a manner that is truly useful, and she's appropriately outrageous for your paper. If, however, you simply want another column written from a juvenile point of view for insolent idiots, then you've accomplished your purpose.



Stupid fucked-up shit

I was reading today's Weekly and when I came to the horoscope there was some stupid fucked up shit [Sign Language, p. 99 this issue]—blah blah blah—instead of the usual somewhat reliable Rockie Horoscope. Please please tell me that this full of bullshit horoscope "astrologer" is simply here for this week and this week only. I really don't care about my "pimped out pad"? What the fuck is that? Please bring back a more planet-oriented horoscope.



Sharon dissents

Fabulous horoscope [Sign Language, p. 99 this issue]!



Letter o' the week

George Streicher's theory [Letters, 2/8] that immigrants to the US have caused the current (ha ha) power crisis by sucking up the electricity that rightfully belongs to native-born Americans is an interesting if disturbing one.

Happily, Mr. Streicher sets an example for us all in these difficult times by apparently living on another planet.



Letters truly make the world go round. Write to us: Letters Editor, Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western, Ste 300, Seattle, WA 98104; fax to 206-467-4377; or e-mail to letters@seattleweekly.com. Please include name, location, and phone number. Letters may be edited.

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