- Your Letters
LETTERS ARE TOO LONG
your mama hides the cookies." How I miss these words
and wonder if there is anyone at ESPN or in the sports coverage
industry in general that is capitalizing on the current hockey
lock-out situation by fostering relationships between "old-school"
hockey announcers and broadcasters for other sports
is something to be said about a broadcaster that can call
the game and also bring a tangible approach that enhances
the excitement on the ice/court/field/track for the fan.
a basic and simple and old idea, but one that has always made
listening to the game on the radio (usually while doing some
chore or activity) more exciting than watching it on TV. So
here is my awkward segue into an analogy to hopefully describe
my current disenchantment with hibernation without hockey
the recent talk of Howard Stern and the FCC and the endless
lawsuits and the-future-is-not-so-far-away super-space radio
options have made me realize that while I, a slave to the
technological transfer of information like so many of us,
do not have any great stake in all of this, I am nonetheless
affected by it, and care about it, and want to contribute
positively to it so it can reach its potential
for space age radio
.perhaps. Potential for NHL Hockey
as we know it
not good. Potential for NHL Hockey to resume
and be covered exclusively by space age radio
getting somewhere. (This is where Erie County comes in, because
here, apparently, the best way to solve a potential problem
is to pair it up with another potential, yet risky in a different
kind-of way, problem and worry not because everyone ends up
another smooshy analogy: the "Bermuda Triangle Effect"
has somehow lost its way in the weather patterns of the world
(global warming, perhaps) and ended up parked next to my very
own black cloud above Buffalo New York
is made up of three equally dangerous, yet differentially
King Joel Giambra, Sir Gary Bettman,
and Blessed Mother Nature.
see, private sector companies have lost thousands of jobs
here in WNY with only an Iraq War level of concern in terms
of coverage (please read this as "page eleven news"
yes, your government and your media are feeding you Spinal
Tap inspired "but these go to eleven" babyfood and
you are drooling it all down your chin) but the downsizing
of the County Government is the ONLY thing worth talking about
in this town.
Bettman, well, let me start by falsely claiming that I harbor
no ill will, and cut right to the chase on this one
Gary Bettman. Fuck him for what he has allowed to happen to
hockey on his watch.
oh, where do I start with her? Stupid bitch
gave me the flu.
Sick For Real
What's a hockey?
to your list of despicable types, Dr. Joyce Brothers, who,
in an article in this Sunday's Parade on the value of shame,
and the difference between good and bad shame, as if it
were like cholesterol, exposed herself in public as senile.
To see the front page of Parade devoted to celebrities in
different celebrity poses, including Madonna in iron ice
cream tit covers (Avert your gaze, children, or you'll turn
to stone!) gets me a-wonderin'...
cry from Wounded Knee. No shame allowed there. Too long
ago. Same with slavery. Anyway, Indians ain't oppressed
today. Shit, they get more tax breaks than GE. And look
at 'em, still livin in trailers. Meet me at the casino!
here remember feeling ashamed of our wonderful troops coming
home from the rape of Vietnam? Or maybe you lost a few brain
cells during the disco era. I'll bet a new standard for
TV advertising was set by the newscast with pictures of
that little girl running naked down the road after nearly
becoming burnt toast with a gasoline nose and a diesel aftertaste.
reason to doubt ourselves in Iraq. Everybody knows Saddam
was in a position to invade Washington and take over the
Just because a bunch of towelheads got their asses handed
to them? Shit. You don't know. You ain't been there. These
people stink like their camels. And I wouldn't turn my back
on a one of 'em. You know each and every one of 'em is a
fanatic. They just want to put the screws to the whites,
the Euros, the Americans. Even the li'l old ladies have
the potential to do harm to us and our interests. Hey, what's
that lump in your pocket?
as all the precious, innocent, holy embryos are nestled
down in their beds at the fertility clinics, somewhere on
the south side of freezing, on the bottom shelf, labeled
"discard next garbage day", our naked emperor
struggles with the "destroy life to preserve life"
conundrum. If that wasn't true, it would be hilarious. In
the meantime, millions of 'unclean' wait for their pittance
of healthcare from the hoarding scumbag insurance companies.
Hey, you people with Parkinson's, MS, spinal cord injuries
and the like: fuck all o' y'all.
supposed to look at some basketball player, whose head is
about as empty, and has been bounced around about as much,
and is at least as pressurized, as the roundball itself,
kind of like our naked emperor, and feel shame that he got
mad at some asshole fan, in New Jersey of all places, (or
was it Detroit? Fade in Jackson Brown song) after he was
assaulted both verbally and with a flagon of mead? What
would you do? Appeal to the league? I think not, sir!
supposed to look at this world full of cruelty, injustice,
genocide, prejudice, and fear, and blame it all on the commies
in Hollywood and the hippies in Haight? "If only we
had some sense of propriety, some limits on our behavior."
Tell that to the elder Bush's cronies and their Howdy-Doody
boy, emperor Dubya. He's just a figurehead. What's in his
head? Go figure.
for Joyce...Give her a ticket on the same boat with Billy
Graham. Yeah that's it. The double-decker ferry in Bombay.
We've never donated plasma, but thanks to your letter we
know what it feels like.
the fine staff and readership of The Beast:
These are trying times for Buffalo and her suburbs in Erie
county. With The District attorney's and Sheriff's departments
being weakened by budgetary losses and layoffs, and the city's
fiscal health at least as unsound, I know you are feeling
unsafe and worried about your future. To you I say, take heart!
I am here for you!
am I? Late last year while gathering pinecones for a fall
craft project on a crisp September morn in West Valley, I
was attacked and ravaged by a radioactive kitten. When I came
to, I found my five senses heightened, and discovered that
I was developing an eerie precogniscence. And talk about cat-like
reflexes! Downside, he shedding is a little disconcerting,
and I'm easily distracted by shiny or jingly things, and a
recent trip to the pet store's bird room nearly left me in
an orgasmic mess.
any-hoo, since my metameowrphosis, I've just been sitting
curled up on the sofa, wondering ways to benefit society,
and now I've heard the call. I think, with my new found super
powers (boy, I can't believe I'm using that phrase seriously),
I could be good backup for police and fire departments across
Erie County. I'm not one for glitz and show, and I'd hate
for this to be taken as pretense, but I really think it would
be good for all concerned if I'm referred to as Captain Meow.
Oh, and please don't call me a "super hero." Yuck!
That's a little high falutin, methinks. If you need to describe
me, I'd say "Good SaMEOWritan" works damn fine.
Western New York, if you get into a real jam, call 911. For
everything else, from barking dogs to kids playing hookey,
you call me, Captain Meow. You can reach me by opening a can
of tuna outside your windows, or just e-mail me at CappyMeow@AOL.COM.
And when my nap is over, I will spring into action. And I
will update you from time to time on my adventures.
Licking Crime (and myself), I remain,
This whole cat thing has taken some getting used to, and until
I can get a handle on certain functions and habits, you may
want to keep the kids out of the sandbox this summer. Apologies
We had a cat like you once. Then we stomped it to death and
stapled it to a telephone pole, just too high for anyone to
reach, so people had to watch it decompose slowly, attracting
flies and vermin, and befouling the neighborhood with the
unforgettable stench of rotting death.
kidding; we would never really do that to an innocent, cuddly
mammal. But we hope someday to do it to you.
THESAURUS NEEDS DICTIONARY
beast is a veritable fest of informed yet vaguely eschatological
cacophony of either self absorbed narcissism or existential
activism im not sure which any way if just one zombie from
28 days later just ponders in a offhand manner you guys and
youre epistemiological fallacies itd be a more improved city
--- maybe or maybe not for there having done so keep putting
fire on our "leaders" feet
Let us guess: you went to Buffalo public schools? No? Stroke
SHALT HAVE NO OTHER GONZOS BEFORE ME
paraphrase the late Hunter S.Thompson, what in the name of
a crippled half-mad jesus was Chris Crawford thinking when
he claimed "We the People" murdered Gonzo?("Who
Killed Gonzo?" issue #69).
was a great article up until the sixth paragraph. Then he
lost it. As if he stopped typing, leaned over to toke a couple
hits of crystal meth, then picked up where he left off. ("...his
eyes could see beyond the words and the robes and through
to the reptilian hue of the high priests skin." [?])
Or, as if some secret neocon religious operatives had planted
a microchip in his brain which randomly tweaks his otherwise
claim "We the People" murdered Gonzo is to do HST
a disservice. Yeah, I understand C.C.'s rage at the apathy
of the average U.S. citizen. But for chrissake, give Thompson
knew the bulk of U.S. citizens were shitheads. He also knew
the American Dream has been dead or dying for years now. And,
even though he knew Bush was a slimier piece of feces than
Nixon ever dreamed of being, and was no doubt horrified that,
for the first time sinse Calvin Coolidge, the GOP had gained
control of all three branches of government - not to mention
their efforts toward the total abolition of our First and
Fourth Amendments,(which he so famously fought for,) - if
he had been 37, not 67, would he still have blown his brains
don't think HST would want to be remembered as some martyr,
dripping the blood of our betrayal. His ability to "laser
through the fat and expose the raw meat of our humanity"
must have applied to himself also. He'd been suffering from
a broken leg and hip-replacement surgery. (What smells more
like old age than a hip replacement?) And yes, his writing
was becoming less of a force than it had once been. As his
son said, he was neither desperate nor depressed. He'd had
a good run of it for 67 years and he didn't want to overstay
his welcome. He died on his own terms.
other words, his suicide (which he'd been planning) had more
to do with how he felt about himself, not "We the People".
Although the sins of the American people are numerous, please
don't claim HST died for them. The last thing he would've
wanted was to be remembered hanging from a cross. In fact,
his final wishes were to be shot from a cannon into the night
was going to say, "Fuck Chris Crawford and his Gonzo-Worshipping
ilk." But I guess we all need our heroes. Especially
So -I don't know.
Just knock off the religious hyperbole. It's weird.
The Great Gods of Gorgon condemn thee! You are damned for
eternity to suffer torment at the hands of the Warriors of
the Underworld! The Great Lord Gonzo shed his rear skull for
your journalistic sins! Et cetera, and so forth!
I spotted that Kurt Anderson piece in New york magazine too
["I Spy a Sellout," issue #69] and remembered him
from SPY magazine, and finished reading the article wondering
where his brain went during its writing. Obviously, on vacation
since he devolved the piece into a formulaic bit of mental
masturbation that should be an embarassment to him. Let's
hope it was just an off-off day for him.
job with your article. I appreciate any writer who puts hard
work into the craft.
Might wanna read Matt's thingy about the Pope in this issue
before you go endorsing him like that.
BRIAN DOESN'T GET IT
for the most part!
I have never read more crap in my life!
You people have too much time on your hands!
Get a real job! Get a life!
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