Not to mention the fact that this dickweed is using the paper to solicit women, offer lewd suggestions, and take advantage of others.
Hello? Yeah, it is their business.
Pompous? Hmmm: The Plain Dealer has long been known for its dismissive ways. I mean, what does it have to lose? It's the only major publication within hundreds of miles, and it uses that to its advantage -- or what I believe is its great disadvantage.
I know several people who work there. One man boasted to me in his usual pompous fashion that he could sleep with a different woman from the paper every day if he really wanted to.
Yeah, right. In his dreams perhaps. But this doughhead believed it, so to read about this jackass does not at all surprise me. These media/sales guys think they have the world by the ass, but in essence are nothing but glorified car salesmen. Sales are sales, and that is the bottom line, but somewhere along the way these small-ball boys got it in their heads that if you attach a large name to a small job, you can lord it over the rest of the population -- especially women.
Wake up and smell the coffee, boys. Women like us despise men like you, but you're too dense to recognize even the most blatant insult.
And, by the way, the man who claimed those daily conquests was an old jackass aged 66 and not at all attractive. You tell me, who would want him?
Amazing results occur when one combines ego with stupidity.
A Loud Sucking Sound
No better than The Times: If Pete Kotz really believes that Iraq was "fairly stable" before we went there, he's dumber than his attempt at literary mea culpa ["We Should Trust You?," July 5] reveals him to be.
Oh, but he trusts The New York Times, which let an affirmative-action liar control some of its news columns until it got embarrassing and The Times had to do its own oh-so-noble mea culpa.
Kotz really reduced himself this time out, doing smart-ass liberal gags while at the same time sucking loudly for applause by trying to portray himself as contrite and humbled because he initially supported President Bush's action in Iraq. He must indeed be learning something from The NYT.
Boarding for Prog
There's still room on the bus: You are spot on ["The Prog Problem," July 12]. As a prog-rock fan nearing 30, I'm just old enough to have seen about all of the main (and obscure) bands of the genre before they've become too old, scaled back, or even stopped touring in the U.S.
On the flipside, because I've enjoyed prog rock concurrently with the music of my time, it's very easy to spot when a newer band is influenced by it.
I feel that only recently, with the advent of the Mars Volta or Muse's popularity, has the term "prog" even been mentioned as anything but a four-letter word. In fact, it seems that critics are now falling all over one another to name-drop older bands from the genre in an attempt to make us all feel like we've been missing something all this time.
That said, even if prog has entered into a bandwagon situation, climb aboard. There's plenty of room left for everyone, even Jann Wenner. Perhaps Ahmet Ertegun will again recall how he's a huge reason why it was so big back then too.
What were we thinking? Don't get me wrong. I seriously thought about not writing this letter. As a musician in a band nominated for an award, I knew I didn't want to come off sounding like a disgruntled ballerina who tries out for The Nutcracker and doesn't make the cut. (That really happened to me when I was eight -- I still bear the scars.) However, I knew something had to be said regarding the Scene Music Awards.
While the food was wonderfully ordinary and the two free drink tickets were much appreciated, I was appalled by the live bands you chose, with the exception of Uncle Scratch.
You, Scene, purveyor of original local music, had musicians from the area gather to listen to a cover band. In an effort to celebrate originality and creativity in Northeast Ohio, someone at your magazine decided that a band covering Kelly Clarkson, Green Day, and the Foo Fighters, along with many other Top 40 acts, would be the best way to say thanks to musicians who actually put thought and heart in to what they do.
Next time, please keep your invitation. It was an insult.
Something Smells Fishy
The lady doth protest too much: Dr. Lurie's criticism of the Scene article concerning her husband [Hate Mail of the Week, June 28] was very impressive. Yet it puzzled me that she did not contest any of the information presented in the article.
Then I read her signature. She appears to have the same occupation as the consultants hired in the film Office Space -- with the credentials to prove it!