Cheers and jeers
Let's wish Jon Pfeiffer all success in his photography endeavors as well as his traumatic brain injury recovery "Starting Over," 5/30/08). I discovered his work at an art fair last December. The photographs were so captivating that it was difficult to decide which one to purchase. My selection has since been framed and graces my living room wall. (Even the framer stopped in his tracks upon seeing the photo.)
Charlotte-Ann Chenery
It's fine to write a feature article about someone's struggle to recover from traumatic brain injury, but why did you choose Jon Pfeiffer as an example? He is a person who spent years selling drugs before he injured himself in a car accident while trying to escape the police. This man is a criminal who has been in and out of jail numerous times, possesses an uncontrollable temper, and is costing the taxpayers thousands of dollars to pay for his treatment and recovery.
Why not choose a hero rather than a criminal? Why not tell the story of one of our solders returning from Iraq with horrible brain injuries? Why not tell the story of some poor soul who suffered serious injuries after being hit by a drunk driver? If you are going to glamorize anyone, pick somebody who is deserving of our public sympathy and support.
Sally P. Hansen
The news editor replies: As our story on Jon Pfeiffer noted, an article about traumatic brain injuries suffered by U.S. soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan had appeared in Isthmus two weeks earlier ("A Signature Injury Ignored," 5/16/08). The topic was also covered in Isthmus' recent cover story on wounded vets ("The Wounds of War," 1/19/08).
Sucky neighbor
Bill Lueders' account of developer Tom Degen's treatment of his neighbors ("Sticking It to the Neighbors," 5/30/08) came as no surprise. Degen owns several rental homes in my neighborhood and treats me and the other homeowners on the street with the same haughty and dismissive attitude described in Watchdog.
The man is not interested in good relations and will take advantage of every molecule of tolerance displayed towards him. Perhaps this makes for a good businessman, but it makes for a sucky neighbor.
Holly McEntee
Reviewer couldn't find the point
Asking Bruce Bradley to review Mercury Player Theatre's production of Celeste and Starla Find Todd and Save the Day is a little like asking George Bush to parse a sentence ("That's Crazy Talk," 6/13/08).
Bradley misses every nuance of the actors' performances. He seems to have forgotten the giddy power of parody, and he can't even enjoy a set crammed with visual jokes and puns. Celeste and Starla sends up cosmetology, gender, boxing, romance, the icons of history and pop culture, detective fiction as a metaphor for our love and terror of mystery itself, and pretty much everything in between.
Even on a shoestring, Celeste and Starla is fantastic theater. Why can't Isthmus find a critic who's up to reviewing our local experimental art scene?
Lissa McLaughlin
