Letters From the Issue of Thursday, June 28, 2007

Page 2 of 3

Phoenix cops blow it again: Although it acknowledged there was a way to arrest the murderer when the plane landed in India, the New Times article suggested Continental's failure to land was all about the cost to Continental.

Maybe that did play into it, but as an air traveler (generally not on Continental), I like to think safety was the major issue. Turning a plane around with a fleeing "lunatic" on board? I don't think so.

And as for the commitment to pay for Continental's landing costs — many people expect cops to lie (and the Supreme Court has endorsed their right to do so). If the issue were really about money, there were a couple of hours of flight time when the Phoenix department could have e-mailed Continental's management in Houston a documented commitment to pay.

But, hey, this was Friday night. For top cops, it was already the weekend. Why bother? It's always easier to blame the airline.

Face it. The story here is that the Phoenix cops blew it again. Had they moved on the case like they actually cared, the murderer never would have left the country, because the cops could have grabbed him before takeoff.
Name withheld by request


Spittin mad D-Backs dude: Hey, Clay McNear, I've got an idea. If you love the goddamn Red Sox so much, why don't you fucking move to Boston ("Tubular Sox," Night & Day, June 7)?

I can't believe you, man. New Times gives you 90 words and you throw them down the fucking drain trying to sound cool to all the trendy little kids. Word on the street, Clay, is that you're not from anywhere near the East Coast. In fact, you're a local boy.

It must be hard living a life of failure in a city that is flourishing. If only you could have grown up somewhere else, somewhere more liberal, where you may have been accepted. It's not too late to start over. Fuck, I'll be glad to help you pack.

You people at New Times, you are in a unique position to bring some fucking life to this city! You're one of the most widely read circulations in the Valley. What to do you do? You spend every week finding a new way to rag on everything. You have dipshits working for you like this McNear guy, who are more concerned with appealing to college-age scenester kids than to locals.

In 20 years, there's going to be a huge generation of native Arizonans living in this city. We won't give a shit about Boston. We will give a shit about our fucking team. We will want to hear about why the Diamondbacks are the coolest fucking team on the face of the Earth and why, no matter what, they are going to win the World Series. And that if it just so happens that we lose, we will want to hear about how the other guys cheated, or how they are all a bunch of fags.

Save your cynicism for corporate fat-cat articles. Leave it out of hometown sports. I am calling for an apology, not to me, but to the Diamondbacks and the city. I'll wait two weeks, and if I haven't seen one by then, I swear I will spit on every New Times stand I come across in the Valley, and encourage others to do so.
Mark Petrie, Phoenix

Urine and stale franks . . . smells like victory: I'm a transplant here. I have read six straight years of negative journalism and watch as you continue to burn down the city with your words. I am not even sure if great journalism is understood at 1201 East Jefferson.

A typical paper includes your incessant anti-Phoenix articles, terrible restaurant reviews and now this: a small article in which you proclaim the Boston Red Sox as the coolest team in baseball.

Clay McNear, you are wrong on so many levels.

The Red Sox's stadium, like its city, is a filthy landfill where the sweet smell of urine and stale franks rule the property. The Green Monster represents the jealousy they have of the large, successful, much cooler metropolitan area known as New York.

Curt Schilling is becoming one of the most hated men in baseball as he continues to mock the league and the players who are in it. In fact, this great man will never reach a little city called Cooperstown where he could awe at the accomplishments of another player, Randy Johnson.

Are you kidding? You have a team in Phoenix that, after six dreadful years, finally can show a winning record, and you bring it down. You have a successful, technologically advanced city that can afford not one but two stadiums with retractable roofs. We have a bunch of farm players who are busting their asses to win games with salaries that represent one-tenth of what Dice-K makes, a Hall of Fame pitcher, Johnson, who wanted to retire his name and jersey from the same team that brought us a championship, and a division that is arguably the best division in baseball this year.

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