Letters for November 6, 2003

At Home with Hanging

Ralph Teetor

Editor, Pynk Pages

Boynton Beach

The good and the bad, vying for attention: In regard to Bob Norman's stories "Georgia Got a Gun" and "Georgia in the Pines" (October 9 and 16), I was blessed to have met a woman in early 2000 who I know will by my friend forever and ever. I know Kristi Krueger Templin as a doting mother of two children, supportive wife to a great guy, and to me a friend who is there whenever I need her. Having come to know her family, I sat in the courtroom nearly every day from May till July 2. I was shocked that a jury of our peers felt that my friend had used her name as a local TV personality to accuse Georgia Roberts of anything. I would like to say I enjoyed your articles; however, after observing Ms. Roberts myself day after day in the courtroom, I feel you are giving Ms. Roberts what she desires most: attention and publicity.

I had never met Georgia Roberts. The first day of the trial, I was sitting alone outside the courtroom when she approached me. She asked about my business; then she peppered me with questions, such as which side I was there for. Then she informed me with a gleeful smile that I was in for "one heck of a show."

Renee Lerch


Stratton's not always right, but, damn, he's good: I am writing in response to Jason Knapfel and Katy Corrigan's letters regarding Jeff Stratton's review of the Brite Side ("Subtropical Spin," September 11). What a couple of crybabies! I would like to know just where Mr. Knapfel gets off by claiming that music writers should slag only successful "platinum selling pretty boys" instead of emo-bandwagon-jumping local yokels ("nonplatinum selling pretty boys"?). Fuckin' A, I can remember back in the day when emo was not such a lame proposition. Jason seemed to loosen up by his third paragraph (I was on your side for a moment there, pal) and then sadly transformed himself into a vagina again. If these guys had any brains and/or balls, they would put Stratton's review at the very start of their press kit. I would kill for my band to get such a scathing "mean-spirited" review!

Jeff is probably one of the best music writers in South Florida (which is not saying a whole lot, sadly enough), though from time to time, I find myself disagreeing with much of what he writes.

The majority of these early-20-somethings really appear to have nothing to offer artistically. The CD that has Ms. Corrigan's panties so sopping wet really does resemble the work of a boy band. The horrible band moniker, the ever-cheesy The Lifeless Lady (yack!) cover art, and the aforementioned lyrics in Jeff's review would seem hardly out of place on a Justin Timberlake record.

What it boils down to is that if you cannot handle the heat of one bad review, then get the hell out of the rock 'n' roll kitchen. If either of you two wet-behind-the-ears windbags wants to hear a "pure expression of human emotion" by a real poet/musician, then I suggest you take two doses of Lou Reed's The Blue Mask and do not call me in the morning under any circumstances. After that, read Stratton's Kenny 5 cover story ("The Stuntman Cometh," September 25) and shut your freakin' pieholes. Toodles.

William Douglas Herring,

a.k.a. Death Metal Douglas

Fort Lauderdale

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