Letters for May 3, 2007
That’s a good one
Re “House of the Rising Sun” (Feature story, April 19):
One energy saving idea that I have never seen on anyone’s list of energy saving ideas is: Get a clothesline and use it. Most of the time, clotheslines work great in our high desert climate and are completely non-polluting, dirt cheap to buy and free to operate. No government subsidy required.
An electric clothes drier uses approximately 5,000 watts of electricity, so you would save about $.55 per drier load.
A clothesline will give you a much greener return on your investment than just about anything I have ever heard about. Maybe equal to parking your car and walking instead of driving.
Spring in his step
Spring is returned, thankfully. I lost a couple of basil plants in the latest freeze, but the pansies are beautiful, the marjoram, dill, spinach, jalapeño, tomato, mint, lavender and rosemary are thriving, and the baby trumpet vines are cautiously exerting their potential. Soon the marigolds will pop their jaunty heads.
As Red Barber, the voice of the Brooklyn Dodgers, used to say to Bob Edwards on NPR’s Morning Edition on beautiful Florida spring Fridays: “Welllllll, you know Bob, when the crepe myrtle blooms, the watermelon is ripe.” Something to look forward to. Oops, I ended a sentence with a preposition, reminding me that Winston Churchill used to say, “Ending a sentence with a preposition is something up with which I will not put.” To which I can only add, “that, and using only a single square of toilet tissue per sitting,” something Sheryl Crow used to say.
I made a peanut-butter-and-Maui-honey sandwich for Dylan’s lunch today. He sure is handsome, and he chooses friends well. The doggies are snoozing in the morning sun. I have three now, as I’m babysitting Max for Dylan’s mom indefinitely—though hardly reluctantly. Max is a wall-eyed, bat-eared, snore-bug of a Boston. I’ve renamed them all: Frank the wiener is Tubesock (the dryer orphan on the floor waiting to be picked up), Wienie the chihuahua is Cork (always bossy and stopping the fun), and Max is Wheelchock—or Cinderblock, take your pick. He’s a brick at least. His full name is Maximus Padimus, or Maxi-Pad for short. I look at those crazy wall-eyes, one at a time, and say, “Maximus Padimus! Which eye to look atimus?”
It’s a fine day here. We wish you were here, too.
No space for race
Re “Failure to communicate” (Ask a Mexican, April 19):
There are many important issues facing this country, such as the Iraq war, a president who refuses to admit to and correct his mistakes, the Bush administration’s refusal to abide by a WTO ruling and the Tokyo convention for the ecology, gas prices, the economy, and illegal aliens who are spreading like a cancerous plague in this country.
I don’t give a damn how Mexicans use the toilet or what they do with their shit. I doubt that any of your readers care.
Your paper has descended to writing flame bait in hopes of stirring up controversy and responses. You’ve crossed the line of journalistic integrity and common decency.
I can’t cancel a subscription to your paper since it’s free, but I can and will do the next best thing. For the next year, I will go out of my way to avoid buying goods and services from your advertisers.