By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
By Eric Nicholson
No justice in DeSoto
I just happened to pick up a copy of your publication in which you published an article titled "The Chief, The Scotsman, The Swindler, and The Killer" [November 16]. It is evident to me that the residents of DeSoto are the type of people who lock themselves indoors at the end of every day and do not pay attention to or care about whatever is happening in their city, even if it directly affects them in more ways than one.
Surely the members of the city council, the city manager, and the residents of DeSoto cannot be that naive and dumb. Somewhere within the city there must be someone with enough intelligence and common sense to see what is happening within its borders--that the chief of police is assuming totalitarian authority. The city council should immediately rehire the detective fired by the chief with back pay and return the other two officers to their previous rank and positions with back pay. And, of course, the chief must go.
That the city of DeSoto has opened itself to various lawsuits is unquestionable. It will cost each man, woman, and child in the city dearly, and right where it hurts the most--the pocketbook.
Food critic bites--and chews!
Did Mary Brown Malouf drink too many glasses of wine at Joey's restaurant before writing her review of the place ["Joey's 15 minutes," November 23]? Only someone with impaired judgment would dislike Joey's food. People don't wait two hours for a table at Joey's to see and be seen. They wait for the food. It's fantastic, and so is the owner, Joey Vallone. Mr. Vallone treats his customers like royalty and always remembers my favorite dishes (Joey's nutty salad and shrimp pino). Despite Joey's talent and charm, Ms. Malouf complains he's young and bites his thumbnails. Sorry, but the only thing that bites is Ms. Malouf's review.
Whine and cheese
Over the years, your magazine has poked fun at the Winedale Tavern in a variety of ways. Most of us that frequent this establishment have laughed along with your readers at your lurid depictions of the society misfits that make up this joint's clientele. As a matter of fact, when the Observer named the Winedale as the Best Makeout Bar in Dallas, stating that the regulars in the place wouldn't even notice a couple fornicating on the pool table due to the level of their alcohol consumption, we played along with the pun, placing a blanket and baby oil on the pool table for whoever might feel the inclination. I think most of us pride ourselves on our senses of humor, capable of laughing even at ourselves if the joke's a good one.
In my opinion, however, Josh Alan Friedman's tirade on the Winedale ["Winedale nation," November 9] wasn't funny. His thinly veiled personifications of barkeepers and regulars were skewed, insulting, and showed an enormous lack of insight. He spoke as if he feels far superior to those people he has entertained over the past three years, labeling all of them as alcoholics, nuts, or deadbeats. I suppose this type of journalism should be expected from a person who has probably developed his writing style by only reading music critics, but I find it intolerable from someone who proclaims to be a blues musician. I feel it shows no soul and no heart, qualities a good blues musician must convey in order to truly appeal to the masses.
Most of us that find ourselves drawn to the Winedale have enjoyed it because we think of it as a home away from home, a place we can be comfortable letting our hair down a little without getting ridiculed or judged by people who feel superior to us. His "musical eminence," however, couldn't remain obliged to staying uninvolved and had to destroy this for us all. Josh, there's a label for a person that serves people that disgust them. It's prostitute, not eminence.
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