By Jena Ardell
By Jon Campbell
By Alan Scherstuhl
By Tessa Stuart
By Roy Edroso
By Jon Campbell
By Albert Samaha
By Zachary D. Roberts
It's a shame that Tristan Taormino never told me about the curious case of the double dong and her anal inferno during our long conversation about phthalatesnot because I know how she felt (I can only offer sympathy drawn from the fiery reaches of my imagination), but because whatever it was that ignited her ass like a firecracker, it wasn't a member of the phthalate family of chemicals. Contrary to Taormino's report, phthalates are odorless, not skin irritants, and they do not congregate on the surface of vinyl as a greasy film. This is why they are indispensable in a range of complex, life-saving medical devices designed for use inside the human body. Besides, when have you ever seen a greased-up rubber duck? On second thought, perhaps that's a question best left unanswered.
Editor, stats.org, Washington, D.C.
Tristan Taormino replies: My column never claimed that phthalates themselves have an odor or are irritants, but rather that when they are added to PVC to make sex toys, the end product smells and can irritate sensitive genital tissue. Mine is not an isolated incident.
FLOPPED WITHOUT THE KING OF JOP
Your annual Pazz and Jop feature [February 713] suffered from the change of editorship. As a devoted reader of the Voice, I can only ask: Why was Robert Christgau fired?
Princeton University, Princeton, New Jersey
PLEDGE OF RESISTANCE
I've got to hand it to this week's Married, Not Dead column ["Are We Not Men? We Are TiVo," February 1420]: It only took a few sentences to convince me never to waste my time again reading this Shelley. I thought for sure that this was an earlier column, because it was the same narcissistic whining I'd read before. But no"February 13" was at the top, and I still don't care any more about the problems of the two writers than I did last month. Throwing in a few fucks or shits doesn't make the column any edgier or more informative; it just wastes ink, like the rest of Married, Not Dead. Writers like Dan Savage and Michael Musto actually get me to search out their columns each week; Married, Not Dead makes me want to toss my computer out the window so there's no chance of my reading it again.
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