LETTERS

For last week's "Guilty Pleasures" cover package, Editor Scott Dickensheets confessed his preference for the Manfred Mann version of "Blinded by the Light" over the Bruce Sprintsteen original.

After reading your take on the song "Blinded by the Light," my first reaction was, "Do we have hidden cameras in the house?" My wife and I had a discussion on the song about a year ago, when I played the Springsteen version of that song. She just kinda sat there, hearing that version for the first time, while I danced around like a drunk walking on hot coals. Her reaction was a deadpan, "I like the other one better." I couldn't understand it. I mean, this is the Boss; that is his song. I grumbled for weeks (musicians think they have it sewn up when it comes to musical taste, you know), trying to figure out what she didn't get out of the original song.

A few weeks later, one of the classic rock stations played the Manfred Mann version. I turned to change the station, and it happened. The sound of the song instantly took me back to first grade, my first kiss, my first copy of Rolling Stone magazine, roller-skating (metal wheels), etc. The song was played on every AM station I listened to back in 1976. I sat through the entire song with a smile on my face, wondering whatever happened to that first kiss. When the song ended, I realized that while it is indeed Springsteen's song, Manfred Mann's over-the-top-production version stuck in my head and memory long after it dropped off the charts.

Thanks for writing that guilty pleasure, man.

We Can Answer at Least One of Your Questions, Steve

The following arrived in response to our January 22 cover feature, "Whatever Happened To ..."

Thanks for the wonderful piece on all of those vividly memorable local celebrities that we all just can't seem to forget (GMF Motors' Fred Fayeghi, Happy Harry, and the barely missed tabloid "legend" John Wayne Bobbitt), although there were some that were surpringly left off the list that I strongly yearned to learn more about:

Jan Laverty Jones: Las Vegas' mayor of the '90s. 'Nuff said.

Dominick Brascia: Former KLAV talk-show host who made enough crude jokes to make Howard Stern blush, directed a few schlocky horror films and had his very short-lived UPN series a few years back, which, after its cancellation, he suddenly vanished off the face of the Earth.

Harry Tootle: The early-'90s notorious self-righteous, always contradicting, governement-conspiracy-shouting television station owner who always preached both his right wing views and his ego, but after running for sheriff in 1994 completely disappeared.

Aaron Russo: Nevada's favorite Hollywood prodcuer-turned-crackpot renegade Republican governor candidate.

Greg McFarland: Often crude radio deejay whose over-the-top antics not only embarassed his then-bosses but eventually got him permanently banished from local radio airwaves.

Kramer (Robert Brittain): Hard-rock-playing, porn-starlet-loving KKLZ deejay.

Clyde Dinkins: The ever imfamous right wing letter writer to every free local magazine, which always had a neoconservative, liberal-bashing letter from this guy in just about every week's letter section, but who seems to have gone missing in action after George W. Bush was sworn in.

Gennifer Flowers: Former Clinton mistress who moved here to blend in among the locals, and when her career seemed to go nowhere, apparently moved out to territories unknown.

I would fully enjoy seeing any information about these heavily missed folks and their current whereabouts and recent activites.

We Would Have Taken That Photo, but We Can't Afford a Wide-Angle Lens

The following arrived in response to Stacy J. Willis' January 29 story about Indian Springs:

Yeah, that's an interesting little place up there. I even remember back when the gas station at the north end of town was open.

But you and Keith [photographer Keith Shimada] missed one good photo as you headed back home from there—the "Wildlife Viewing Area" sign, complete with arrow, just before you get to the road by the prison. From the shoulder, with a wide-angle lens, you can get both of those in the photo.

Perhaps not a good thing to print in the Weekly, but something to send out of town friends.

Anyhow, good story—I enjoyed reading it, even though, if I could talk the wife into it, I'd rather move to Searchlight. Thanks for writing it.

This Week's Best Letter Linking—in a Sadly Incomprehensible Way—Jesse Jackson, Almost Nude Photos and the Suggestion of Mass Action by the Nation's Governors

Jessie Jackson is sleeping at the wheel. He should make millions of dollars with suitcases. Jackson and his cohorts should gather 20 single men from 18 to 25 years old to complain against the advertisements in newspapers, TV, magazines, etc.

It's about the almost-nude photos of beautiful women in different sex positions. All this is driving the single men enough to have the urge to rape women. The photos make them teasers. What is all this leading to? Why don't governors in all the states open up the old red-light districts? The cat houses. All this will come eventually. Believe me.

After Considering Your Impassioned, Thoughtful Remarks, We Still Think the Movie is 'Stupid'

I just read your review of Cold Mountain (December 25). What the heck are you talking about? Why are Law and Kidman wrong for the parts? How are the Southern accents unbelievable? How is their love unbelievable? How does Anthony Minghella "stupidly" forget to include any feeling?

How are the costars better than the leads? Do you normally just make blanket statements without justification, or is this a quirk of the moment?

I just saw this movie. The story is definitely not up to the par of The English Patient and the pacing isn't quite up to Mr. Ripley, but it's quite a good movie, worth its salt as an awards contender. Law and Kidman are very believable in their roles. Minghella is a master at extracting fine performances from his actors, and he frames them so extraordinarily well that their performances "look" even better. I've never seen a movie produced or directed by this guy that doesn't have superior acting or superior camerawork.

Tell me, what do Hoffman and Portman have to do that makes their performances "better"? Though well-acted, their characters don't require a lot of nuance. In my opinion, this is a weakness of the movie in general—the lack of this nuance from supporting characters—but, Minghella can get away with it within the storyline.

"Calvin Klein"? Just what are you watching, Party of Five? We see Jude Law's character injured several times, pale from lack of sleep, unkempt—yet driven by his love for this woman. Were you asleep?

Where is the lack of "feeling" that you describe as "missing"? There is enough feeling to go around the house 20 times. These people have hard lives in an environment that is being destroyed around their ears and manipulated by others who are trying to survive.

I can't imagine anyone describing anything that Anthony Minghella does as "stupid." In my opinion, this guy has the potential to be a great master, like Scorsese, Ford, Hitchcock, Wilder, Sturges, Lang, Bergman, Fassbinder and Sirk, to name several.

Don't you play the violin for a living?