Grave Matter

Grave Matter

Coffin it up: Apparently you think Fred Phelps and his behavior are strictly a gay issue (Kansas City Strip, February 9). You write: “The Strip rang up Rep. Rucker to congratulate him on his sudden interest in gay issues. He was quick to set us straight. ‘This has nothing to do with gay rights,’ he said. ‘This bill has nothing to do with what he [Phelps] is protesting.'”

Then you say Rucker contradicts himself. No, he doesn’t. It’s rather sad that you think the actions of a monster like Phelps are only nasty because of the victims he chooses. In fact, my impression was that the message of gay rights is that homosexuals should be treated equally and that homosexuality should not be considered when it comes to the law.

Stopping Fred Phelps (or anyone else) from protesting at funerals is NOT a gay issue. It’s a human issue, a cultural issue, a societal issue. No one should have to suffer through that, whether they be homosexual or not. While you may have a point that something should have been done to curtail the actions of the Westboro Bullies long before now, you’re dead wrong in trying to continue this as a “gay” issue and suggest that Rucker is only trying to help soldiers and doesn’t care about the families of homosexuals.

Rucker is trying to help all of his constituents and protect them from the horrors that Phelps and his bullies create.

J.J. Julian

La Verne, California

Cycle through: How dare you try to make a mockery of a group of people who give so much for absolutely nothing! Do you realize that most of the Patriot Guard Riders are hard-working Americans who give their free time to show support of others?

They have families and lives themselves. They cannot be everywhere, and so they chose a cause that was closest to them — they are vets helping soldiers and their families (whether they are gay or not gay). I’m sure they’d love to be at every funeral of every American who died living the American dream, or at every protest that Phelps stages, but it’s physically impossible. Six thousand members, over 50 states, is not a lot of manpower; throw in the fact that everything they do is done on their free time, and you have even less.

Instead of focusing on the good that this group does, you used your article to point out what they don’t do — attend gay funerals and functions where Phelps pickets. The bottom line is the PGR doesn’t have to do anything, but they chose to do something. What are you doing to help others, other than writing trash that belittles those who are trying to bring a little positive to funerals of those who have given all for our great country?

Bonnie Cutler

Houston, Texas

Stage Fright

Slick Rick: Regarding Nadia Pflaum’s “Horn Dog” (February 16): I was a member of Rick West’s Branson band right as the theater closed. Thank you for the article. You’ve taken me back to that strange, surreal world that Rick rules over.

We auditioned tons of girl singers. As a band, we screened them. He was unhappy with our choice — a fortyish African-American woman who could belt like Mavis Staples. So he found a squeaker who didn’t mind wearing skirts so short that Row D could tell what panties she had on.

And I’m glad to see Mother West is still alive. The rumor I heard was that the wrestlers broke into Rick’s room to steal his wallet, since he kept their money, and old Mother died of a heart attack.

Thank you again.

Jason Patrick Vivone

Via the Internet

All shook up: Great story by Nadia Pflaum about Elvis Rick West. It is good that we have a paper like the Pitch.

After spending about a year slaving for this guy, I remembered two old sayings from my southern Missouri upbringing: When someone brags about how religious they are, they are almost always habitual liars. And when someone brags about how honest they are, grab your wallet or purse and hold on to it tightly.

Tom Helms

Independence

Supply and Demand

Lost in love: David Hudnall’s “The Love Experts” (February 9), regarding Air Supply, loaded me on a spaceship, tightened my pink seat belt, and took my white, middle-aged body on a nonstop junket to a place I’d been before but had left due to artistic differences. Thank you.

Mesmerizing, vacuous and synthetic 1990 Euro-love ballads are just what this country needs in time of war. Let us all board Air Supply, close our eyes and ask earnestly: “Baby, don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me no more.”

Name withheld by request

Pistol Whipped

Son of a gun: Regarding Jason Harper’s Wayward Son on the Olympic Size, American Catastrophe and Mi and L’au show at the Pistol Social Club (February 2): Hey, great article. I was there; it was amazing! Perfect analogy of a kid who can’t live in Disneyland. I feel the same way. What an awesome night.

Robin Lonborg
Shawnee