LETTERS

Last week's Readers' Choice Awards got this fella going:

Just wanted to write a little note regarding the reader's poll results. I must say that the only reason Starbucks wins every year is because there are no longer any other options in this town. It's, for lack of a better word, retarded! Eliminate the competition and then pretend that you are really the best. Doesn't make it so. It's just depressing to go into a Starbucks and be forced to use their ridiculous trademarked terminology. Am I the only one who feels like a moron saying "I'll have a grande percent latte with three shots"? Try saying, "I'll have a medium." The worker will turn into a robotic cowboy Yul Brenner having a thermal meltdown. One can imagine the words "does not compute" repeating at a rapidly decreasing rate. I guess I am bitter, having worked for years in a few "real" coffeehouses, where drinks were handmade, not trademarked, not grande or venti. Just made well and thoroughly enjoyed in a non-fast-food environment! Starbucks is just a better-smelling McDonalds, people. Boring.

I also wanted to correst Josh Bell on saying that Tower Records was across from the Boulevard Mall at one point. It was on the corner of Flamingo and Maryland and at one time, further south on Maryland, past Harmon. The record store that was once across from the mall was the Underground. That was the best record store that ever graced this town.

Just wanted to give a shout out to Wayne from the Underground and also all of the daring and devoted owners of the now-defunct Vegas coffeehouses. It would be great to see a readers' poll that actually named a noncorporate business as the best. I suppose that would be the case if there were any such places left in this town. Starbucks never would have stood a chance against Enigma. As a matter of fact, I seem to recall quite a few "Best Of" awards hanging on the Enigma kitchen walls.

Editor's note:
Well, wrap me in a necktie and call me Corporate McSlavington, but I don't buy into the simpleminded "corporate bad, independent good" dichotomy. Sounds too easy. Free your mind, Jack—you don't have to use their terminology; order a "medium one of those coffees with chocolate in it" and they'll still serve you. None of which, in the end, matters. What matters? This: Is the coffee any good? Our readers say yes, and we stick by them.

Thanks to the magic of the Internet, this reader only now enjoyed Steve Bornfeld's essay on Beyond the Sea, which appeared in the December 30, 2004 issue:

Writers have invented new adjectives to describe how much they hated or liked this movie. Being a totally obsessed [Bobby] Darin fan for about four years, it's hard to be objective. We are just grateful for [Kevin] Spacey's heroic effort to get his name out there.

All I can say to people is : Get the music. There are plently of CDs out there, and a box set. I have about 50. With Darin you don't have to choose—a bit of Ray Charles, a bit of Sinatra, a bit of Fats, the charisma of Elvis, a bit of Dylan. He had it all (writing about 200 songs also) but was still totally unique. Genius, genius, genius.

Hurrah for Sean Hooks' article on Wole Soyinka (March 3)! I taught freshman composition at UNLV through the fall of 2002 and had a mailbox in the faculty lounge. I never saw the Nobel Prize winner in the faculty lounge getting his mail, never saw him anywhere on the sixth floor of the English Department, but I did hear him once deliver an annual lecture. While teaching at UNLV (17 years), I did enroll in four writing classes taught by the MFA staff members. I would have probably taken one from Wole Soyinka, but he was never listed as teaching one!

Indeed, Mr. Hooks, Mr. Soyinka is a hood ornament for UNLV, and an expensive five-figure-a-month one, which, in a city famous for hustling the almighty buck, would be one of the sweetest takedowns for nonwork. The five-figure check is hearsay, of course, but then that alleged bread fits right into the quintessential Vegas hustler's game plan, doesn't it?

Shame on you, Michael T. O'Toole. In your "Welcome To Fabulous Las Vegas, Sanford and Son" article in the March 3-9 Weekly, you covered pretty much all the Vegas-themed shows, with two glaring exceptions. Although Crime Story started out in Chicago, Ray Luca (Anthony Denison) moved to Vegas in episode eight, and Mike Torello (Dennis Farina) and his crew came out for good in episode 15 and the remaining episodes (44 in all from September 1986 to May 1988) primarily took place in Las Vegas. With a dynamite rock 'n' roll soundtrack and a great cast of regulars, including Andrew Dice Clay and John Santucci. The scenery alone brought back memories of the "real Vegas," with Luca's headquarters in the old Landmark (sadly demolished) and Torello and his Justice Department crew using the Sky Ranch Motel (still looking the same as it did in the series) on Fremont Street. Crime Story and Vega$ were the two shows that showed the world the "real Las Vegas" before it turned into Disneyland in the desert.

Hearts on Fire was another very short-lived, but very good, weekly show, with Caesars Palace as the main background, and a bevy of great guest stars.

By the way, Mr. Toole, if you want to relive the series that ultimately defined Las Vegas to the small-screen audience, stop on by. I have every Vega$ episode on VHS tape, plus the pilot movie, High Roller.

Michael T. Toole replies:
I agree with you about Crime Story. I thought it was a wonderful show, and I happen to have some episodes on VHS. However, don't miss the point of my article, because neither Crime Story nor the so-so Hearts of Fire were full of the lightweight camp abondon appropriate for my "cheesy television moments" list. As for the invitation to crash on your couch and view tapes of my cherished, beloved Vega$, I just might take you up on that. Is it BYOB?

Stacy J. Willis' March 3 feature on checking out high culture—which included a modest section pointing out the, er, prominent features of ballet costumes—elicited this response:

Ballet has much more to offer than genitalia. It's a shame your writer, Stacy Willlis, was fixated on male crotches. I believe that's called "penis envy." I'm sure she'd prefer watching the monkey cage at a zoo; there's always lots of testicular activity there. And her play on the name "Uranus" is such a tired old thing I'm surprised to find an adult employing it. Incidentally, the customary pronunciation is not "yur-anus" but "urine-us." However, I guess Stacy knows what she likes.

How can your publication, with a department supposedly devoted to "Art," print such snobbish tripe?

Editor's note:
If it helps make sense of these things, we're also starting a department devoted to Tripe.

Great cover photo of The Pervz! Without sounding morbid, I'd like to inquire how all three lost their left leg. Are they veterans of war or coincidental victims of a bizarre gardening accident? Inquiring minds want to know! Why did they wear their prosthetics at the Readers' Choice Awards but not for your cover shot?