Well, gee whiz, Robert honey! Is Jackson your idea of "courage, intelligence, and vision"? Frankly, I think renaming a mountain is only a first step. How about putting a new, non-criminal face on those $20 bills?
Valerie Ohle
Knoxville, Tennessee
Give it a whorl: Your comment about people needing to get over the naming of Squaw Peak is crude and insensitive. How can people get over it if you give a comment with no compassion? I feel that the column was based on your own political animosity toward Janet Napolitano. Learn to write every article with respect, maturity, dignity and sincerity. Your own words made you come off as a bigot, a racist and a chauvinistic pig. By writing what you did regarding Lori Piestewa, the term "squaw" and Squaw Peak in itself makes you very ignorant. Your words show no respect through Native eyes. The Hopi and other Native tribes all value everything that is nature, including Squaw Peak. By dissing Lori, you are disgracing a deceased Native woman. In the Native ways, that is one of the most disrespectful things to do. Lastly, I have to comment on the picture of Janet Napolitano with the Hopi Maiden Whorl. If you had respected the Hopis, you wouldn't have made Janet have this type of hair style. This hair style is sacred among the Hopi and it is only for the Hopi young maidens. Next time you write any articles about the Natives, learn to write without an ignorant heart.
Joanna Rekkas
Via e-mail
Combo Plate
Get off Target: I just finished reading your review of the new Mexican restaurant called Don Marco ("Blown Away," Carey Sweet, April 24). I love Mexican food, and growing up in the Valley, I love to find new things. I also read New Times just to read Carey Sweet's column. She has always given me some great insights to places I have wanted to try or have never heard of. Now in reading her article I was very curious about this new place because of what she wrote. One thing caught my attention, though -- when she described its location in Glendale, she wrote, "In a run-down strip mall." I as well as the owners of this fine place are very offended by this statement! Excuse me, Ms. Sweet! But I happen to have grown up in that area! My parents currently live there as well, for more than 25 years! My father works for the city of Scottsdale and my mother owns her own business! Where did you grow up? Beverly Hills? I currently live in central Phoenix. But I still, 'til this day, will drive out of my way to shop at that Target. That is not a run-down strip mall! When you wrote that, I had to call and ask them where they were located. When they told me next to that Target, well, that's when it hit me -- you are an anti-west-sider! You insulted them as well as me and anyone else who grew up in that great neighborhood. I bet you think south Phoenix is a scary place as well. My rant is over. Please think before you write, that's all. What you think is run-down is someone else's great neighborhood. I will, of course, keep reading your articles. But don't be such a snob! And do some pieces on places in south Phoenix! It's really quite charming!
Doreen Petrillo
Via e-mail
Jammin'
Less lard, please: Uhhhhhhhgh, ya ever get that "I ate too much Filiberto's sausage and steak and wonder why did I even order it" feeling? Look no further for a journalistic version of that same bloated sensation than Christopher O'Connor's Irish Medley of nonsense titled "Jam Land"(May 1).
From beginning to end, this reads more like a fluff piece thrown together by some neo-conservative hack from the New York Post than the usual edgy New Times quality readers are accustomed to. Journalistic integrity is traded in for phoned-in semantics with the usual high dose of hippie stereotypes. If you're writing about a "scene," one would think to give the reader a sense of the surroundings by possibly giving an idea what the appeal is to the audience. How about clarification why a local band as high profile as the Mojo Farmers was shut out of the New Times Music Awards Showcase? Nothing like that is found here.
The question remains, what audience was O'Connor writing to? Anybody part of the jam band scene will be turned off by the writer's smugness, and outsiders interested in some actual insight will be left dumfounded. No participant comes across particularly well here, either. Awkward quotes abound, whether it is the promoter's attempt to appear part of an overly professional outfit or a band member's name description simply being used as a prop. It's as if the writer was more interested in getting in a self-amusing quip than giving the reader anything of sustenance.
There is barely a coherent observation in the bunch. Take, for example, the line that starts off with some nonsensical "left-field woodchuck" reference and then goes straight into "there's actually a charming blandness to it all at this event." If you're left wondering what all this means, the ensuing text hardly qualifies as an answer, much less something that would constitute a music festival review. Apparently, brown acid was being ingested at the 4:20 Fest, and O'Connor's article stands as a monument for bum trippers everywhere.
Christopher J. Emge
Scottsdale
