Letters to the editor

I have a big problem, and I was wondering if you could help me. It goes like this. My mum's mum and dad and my grandparents on my great-grandmother's side live next to each other on the beach and everyone except me and my family and the people that don't know them and half the population of my dad's side of the family except the people that are alive think that my best friend's boyfriend's cousin's grandparents are rich but my teacher's half-brother-in-law told me that they're not. I happen to know that my big sister was adopted and I'm not sure whether my grandparents will like it if I ask whether I can borrow the clock in their hallway to give to my little brother as a consolation present because he doesn't want to ask my grandparents because he could get really embarrassed if I told him that my cousin is not really his cousin because my big sister is his cousin and my cousin is his father and he just looks young. My dad is his father too or he might be because mum had a lot of people hanging around at the time he was born, including the plumber and the electrician. What should I do?

Embarrassed and Desperate

(Smash Hits [Australia], November 16, 1988)

There is no way that Poison can EVER be on top. Them little underdeveloped chromoshoes don’t got cock enough to fuck an ant. So all you fucking whores out there who praise the ground Poison walks on are in shit. METALLICA RULES and that will never change.

Though really it's mostly Hetfield. Not that Trujillo's not badass, but Hetfield is definitely the alpha.

For more on this underresearched area of primate behavior: http://www.newyorker.com/shouts/content/articles/050606sh_shouts

Anyway I'm still trying to find my fave letter, so watch this space.

Why even print that?!

"I wonder, do you not have a reviewer of music or movies that doesn't try to outdo the other with incessant blather? I swear, I've been reading City Pages for over seven years and when it comes to me wanting to know if a record kicks ass, the last place I go is to your rag. I visualize a group of corduroy-laden twentysomethings sitting in their Uptown apartments smoking dope and stroking each other about how artsy and smart they are. Who really admires you if you can find the relevance of comparison between a Kurt Vonnegut character and the way an artist plucks his guitar? What the hell is up with that? You're outdoing yourselves and frankly, you rant over people's heads. My suggestion is easy: Keep it simple. Use easy words like "bitchin'" and phrases like "kicks ass" rather then "fatal abstraction." I yearn for a writer over there to be able to effectively communicate true feelings. Words that stick to the wall when written, like overcooked pasta or a good booger. What you've got going on now flies off into Never-Never Land along with the pot smoke ya'll be tokin'..."

(Smash Hits [Australia], July 13, 1988)