LETTERS

Hey, I didn't see the Letters page in the Weekly this week. What's up? I sure hope it comes back.

Thanks,

Editor's Note:
Oh! Here it is:

I applaud Damon Hodge's evenhanded approach to a controversial problem. I do, however, have issues with Kieawa Mason's statement comparing mosh pits at rock concerts with the gang violence that erupts after a rap "artist" performs. The difference between the two genres could not be more huge.

Moshing is an outlet that involves pushing and shoving. Granted, a mildly violent act, but basically harmless. People who go to rock concerts don't go with an agenda, they aren't there "represen'in'" any Thing, or, any One. They go to enjoy the band and their talent and their ability to play their instruments and be a cohesive force live on stage. Moshers are venting frustration and societal rage in a controlled way and in a controlled environment. If ever a fist is raised in anger, and I've seen this, security is there before it even comes down, or at least before the second one! Incidental contact does occur, and it is sometimes a powerful blow, but remember you got 15 or 20 folks in there, sometimes girls too—pushing each other around with everything they've got, and the big ones push the little ones, and the little ones go bouncing and careening off each other and everybody else, and you've got everybody outside the pit shoving the wayward ones back in. Arms and heads go flying in uncontrolled directions and sometimes someone will get caught upside the head or in the mouth, but that is a risk they are willing to take. Those that don't want to assume that risk move outside the range of the moshers. And moshers who want to simply walk to the edge and outside the circle, usually are greeted with a pat on the shoulder or a slap on the back. She should really try it sometime! It's great fun, very exhilarating, very tiring (she would find her arms flailing uncontrollably within the first two minutes of being pushed from one side of the pit to the other—I guarantee!), and extremely satisfying. There is no other place on Earth where a person can go—any person—to a crowded, noisy, sweaty, smoky, dark place, full of drunk, noisy, sweaty people and start pushing complete strangers around just cuz you feel like it, and trust—I mean know—down to your core that you are not gonna get your damn fool head kicked in. I can guarantee you will not find that kind of brotherhood in a pack of brothers.

Gangsta rap concerts are attended by people with agendas. They go REPRESEN'-IN'. Represen'-in color. Represen'-in hood. Represen-'in gang. Represen'-in E, N, S, W side. Represen'-in city. Represen'-in label. Represen'-in coast. Everybody hatin'. And it ain't about race, cuz y'all know who y'all are. Can't we all just get along? I know that rap fans can't go to a show, start pushing and shoving each other around, and when you just get plain ole tuckered out, give each other a hug, and disappear into the audience until next time. No. But that is what we do. And we don't go runnin' for the trunks of our cars as soon as the lights come up to dig out our gats and go looking to shoot a mother-f--ker! Besides, our musicians do not write and sing about killing a cop because he interferes with our drug trade, killing other musicians because he's from the wrong coast, or habitually beating the mothers of our illegitimate children.

The violence does exist in rap music. The rage builds inside of rap concerts because of the confrontational agenda it represents and glorifies with no outlet because rap concert attendees are blatantly anti-social. There is no camaraderie, communication, or humanity. Only hate, pride, and territory. It builds and builds all night because police and security are there to keep it caged up. When the lights come up, and the doors open—that violence is unleashed upon the rest of the world, and guess what?

We don't want it. We don't need it tarnishing the image of this high-profile city. We didn't create the situation. Your misery and your anger are self-inflicted. You want to shoot each other anyway, shoot each other on your streets that you fight so hard to possess. Don't take it to the Strip, or the clubs, or anywhere else that human beings congregate and exist. This is your mess. Clean it up, or keep it in-house.

You want to make a difference in the scene? Pull all the Las Vegas rappers together and only rap about all the good you all are doing for your communities, and let Houston, Atlanta, New York, and LA rap about killing cops, dealing drugs, maintaining territory, killing rival gang members and rappers, and beating up your ol' ladies. You could make a real difference. If you wanted to.

Signed,

Okay.

I see how it is.

Sonja had her time out for next to nothing, in exchange for free drinks and comped lap dances (February 23, "One of the Guys"), and compromising her journalistic integrity. Kudos!

I doubt she was more obnoxious than any guy in there, but ... the point is ... wait—there is no point.

And that's the point. Sonja sold out. Selling her column for a birthday party. Well done! Now, if she would just frequent Seamless, she could get more hooked up than a cabdriver on crack back when the strip clubs still gave tokes. Happy birthday Sonja! ... Endorsement is advertisement, and remember that next time you make dinner reservations. Tasteful attire and congeniality required. Cheers!

On the subject of your funny little article on Dick Cheney (February 23, "Fun with Dick and Guns") ...

Here's some recommendations for other songs:

Cypress Hill—"Hand on the Pump"

Brujeri—"La Ley de Plomo" (the law of lead)

Depeche Mode—"Looking Down the Barrel of a Gun"

Nine Inch Nails—"Big Man With a Gun"

We could keep this joke running for quite awhile!