Sinking Ships | Fantasy Grill | Grotto Gripes | California Dreamin' | Freaked | 'Tis a Pity
Great writer, editor, proofreader: That was a brilliant piece of writing ("Tony Oh-No," by Richie Whitt, October 26). Kudos mostly to the first line: "two shits passing in the night." Great writer. Give him whatever he wants including but not limited to Jerry Jones' job.
Readers respond to "Tony Oh-No," "All That Glitters," more
Brooklyn, New York
You got my sympathy: I have never been a fan of the Cowboys; I'm a lifelong Giants fan. But for some reason in that game I felt bad for Dallas fans. Parcells has been an amazing coach over the years and would almost thumb his nose at what the fans and ownership wanted on a given issue; he was the boss. But was Bledsoe really that bad? The interception on the two-yard line was horrid, but how the heck can you blame him for anything else? The offensive line was like a wet paper sack. No one could have avoided that safety—no one. Don't forget that the week before this game the Giants sacked Mike Vick—possibly the most mobile quarterback in NFL history—seven times. I guess as a Giants fan I should be glad Parcells lost a little bit of his mind and benched a future Hall of Fame quarterback mid-season playing for first place in his division and down by five points! Nonetheless, I feel for the Dallas fans—they deserve better.
Wild style: As I read the article about Andrea Grimes' walk on the wild side ("All That Glitters," October 19), it conjured up a fantasy of mine—if I'm ever not a married religious nut with other financial priorities. I would be in New York at a dinner with celebs and artists and whatnot. Just like them, I'd be dressed to the nines, with a phenomenal evening gown, flowing locks of hair—and a grill. That would be so hot. Such a conversation piece, I'm sure, LOL.
Your debut venue—too conservative. That bunch can't take such revelry in their midst. I suggest you try it again, the way I would do it. I'll bet people will have a ton of compliments for your "wild style." Let me know how it goes.
Pizza is the pits: Excellent—right on the money! ("No Masterpiece," by Mark Stuertz, October 26.) Not to mention the pizza has no flavor whatsoever!
Saved by an onion ring: I enjoyed your review of Catalina Room ("Coasting," by Merritt Martin, October 19). I have been there a couple of times myself, and to me it seems more like a Houston's wannabe (including the carbon-copy Pac-Man sugar caddy and mini pepper grinder on the table) than an Applebee's in disguise. The only standout item I had there, of all things, was the onion rings, which the owner gave us since the restaurant was completely empty. They really were incredibly good! Too bad nothing else was.
Rot in hell: Freak is just what Terry Hornbuckle is ("The Reverend Freak," by Andrea Grimes and Stephanie Morris, September 21). He used the Lord God's work and name in vain. I pray for his soul. He will burn in hell for the crimes he has committed in the name of Jesus. People like him just make it hard for people who are lost to find the Lord. His congregation—who condoned what he was doing as right—are just as guilty as he is. His wife should have given him away. She should have made the move to expose that evil devil for what he was. People, wake up! Look for the Lord in your hearts. Seek him through his words in the Bible. Stop believing in Man. Believe in the Lord.
Everyone in Dallas should pray for his congregation and the people that evil devil hurt. He should spend the rest of his life in prison locked up! Fifteen years is not enough.
Heartless voyeur: I think your reporter needs to get a life. Anyone who feels the need to invade someone's privacy by attending a church service ("A Visit to Agape," by Stephanie Morris, September 21) where people are already hurting is as sick as they are claiming Hornbuckle to be. I would hope that all of your type of "journalists" go out of business or better yet get a life. Check this out: I do not condone Hornbuckle, but I detest your methods and hope that one day you would reap a harvest and have your private space invaded by someone like yourself who'd put you in the news. I think then you will have a different story. Because for the people that did not sleep with Hornbuckle—we long to see all these heartless "journalists" get a dose of their own medicine. I would say have a nice life—but obviously you don't have one!
'Tis a Pity
Chomp: It really is a pity that you didn't stay for the entire production of The Glory of Living ("Who's on Faust?" by Elaine Liner, October 12). If you had, you would have seen a thought-provoking and intelligent piece of theater. Oh wait—I forget. You wouldn't know good theater if it bit you on the ass.
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