Let's unmake a deal

I would like to respond to Laura Conaway's article in your December 2 issue [It's the pits, Envirocop]. Not only do I object to a six-acre vinyl lined lake in the middle of the property that will prevent rainwater from seeping into the aquifer, I object to the fact that the price of the sale was reduced by 1/3 and the Town of Oyster Bay is retaining only nine pie-shaped acres in return. If this was a math problem it would not add up: "If a sale of 65 acres is set for \$24 million dollars and the deal is redone for 2 of the price, how many acres should be sold?" The answer I come up with is 21.7 acres. The increase of 12.7 acres would go a long way to helping the ground-water supply. Either that or, if nine acres are worth \$8 million then the 56 other acres should be worth around \$49 million. It just doesn't add up.

Anthony D. Macagnone
Councilman-elect, Town of Oyster Bay

Yippee! It's the web!

Wow! You go, girl! What a thought-provoking article by Angela Gunn [76:50: the lifespan of the anti-Jim Gray Web site, Cyber, Nov. 4]. I'm anti-Pete Rose, but that doesn't matter. It's the awesome power of the Net that blows me away. Imagine if Abbie Hoffman had had this toy in his bag of tricks.

B.A. Schoen
Baldwin

Snide whiplash

In his Nov. 25 letter "Calling us names," Joey Salvia whines about his bandmembers' names being misspelled in Greg Hoy's review [Recordings, Nov. 18], that it showed "a lack of respect." He then takes particular offense at the misspelling of the name Kurz (as "Kurtz") because Kurz "comes from a proud German heritage" and believes the error would have him (to his mind, insultingly) mistaken for "someone who might be celebrating Hanukah shortly." Salvia sneers, "Get it, Mr. Hoytz?"

I get it, but I'm sorry to. There's plenty to be proud of in the German heritage (including, not incidentally, quite a few Hanukah-celebrating artists and scholars). But the historic legacy of where attitudes of racial superiority like Mr. Salvia's can lead—if they go unchecked—is no source of pride. Such arrogant, casual bigotry ought not to pass unremarked—lest people begin to think it as benign as any other stupid comment. It isn't.

Sherry Taub
Greenlawn

Barbarians at the gate

With regard to Stacy Albin's article, Awe in the Family [Exit Zero, Dec. 2]: It has become so fashionable to espouse "Celtic" beliefs, wearing their charms and elevating their practices to a special level of mysticism. In fact, the Celts spread from Germany with an enormous throng of 300,000 in an exodus across the Roman Empire to the edge of the British Isles. During their journey, they regularly raped and pillaged families and villages, claiming that their gods were hungry gods, and sacrificed many people between the ages of 13 and 25. Holocaust-like mass graves of thousands of young victims, headless and dismembered, abound. This is "respect for the natural world"?

Is this a religion to fashion oneself after? This is a different scenario from the Roman Empire, which was a political institution that used and manipulated religious documents to perpetuate its submission of the masses. Although not much is written from the Celts, we do know from countless witnesses across the continent that this barbarism was a part of their religious doctrines and ceremonies.

Shamans are natural healers who use and worship what occurs around them in their habitats, such as in the Amazon. This group of Long Island witches mish-mashing together the Celts with shamans in the same dogma is an example of schizophrenia in which people form loose associations and deem them their own reality.

My deep desire is to see that people investigate and discern their loose associations and research and that they consider the written and historical foundations to which they presume to ascribe. I would venture to say that the true deep desire of these "witches" is to be actors of the silver screen.

What is with you guys, publishing these moronic letters of Mrs. Susan Davniero of Lindenhurst week after week after week? OK, we get it already. The woman is our own homegrown Professor Irwin Corey, except for the rather salient fact that, presumably, she doesn't get the joke.

We, however, your unfortunate readers, got the joke a long time ago, chuckled once (and mildly at that) and now find her recurring presence on your editorial page extraordinarily annoying. There must be a couple of halfway-articulate, eloquent voices out there in the intellectual hinterlands of Long Island that you're not giving a chance to be heard in favor of this deeply confused wordsmith.

Frank Feldman
Lynbrook