Letter of the week
Regarding Tom Breihan's book review, "Wiggerstock" [January 2430]: For whatever reason, a white person may listen to hip-hop and absorb the hip-hop culture. To refer to them as "wiggers" implies that black people in turn are referred to as "niggers." Hip-hop beats are amazing. They make you want to move. Couldn't it be as simple as that?
Either way, she deserves a licking
Just when I'm about to kill myself comes Michael Musto's brilliant interview with Sarah Silverman ["Sarah Silverman Is My Kind of Cunt," January 2430]. My faith in humanity has been restored! I wanna suck his dick and lick her inverted pussy!
Sarah Silverman's greatest regret in this life is that she wasn't born with a penis, hence her overcompensatory jokes about excretion, sex, and race. She's about one-fifth as funny as Dane Cook. Thanks, Voice.
I enjoyed Musto's story on Silverman. I remember Sarah from her time on Saturday Night Live, a program that should have been canceled years ago. Instead, because of name recognition, nostalgia, and the ability of the producers to find sponsors, it con- tinues on like a zombie (or more aptly, the current presidential administration?). It's pretty much gone but still walking around bothering everybody. Lucky for us, Silverman, Jimmy Kimmel, Dave New Chappelle, Lewis Black, and others provide some much needed comedy in this era of neocon doublespeak.
Stephen Ernest Smith
Thank you, Musto, for single- handedly justifying this entire issue of the Voice.
Middle Village, Queens
Musto's interview with Silverman was brilliant! Please, more Musto and especially more Silverman! I love the Voice.
Powell River, British Columbia
Sarah Silverman is sick. Either I'm going insane or so many in the rest of the world are.
Plattsburgh, New York
As a longtime reader of the Voice, I must say that the paper has lost its bite. I remember looking to the Voice to report on issues no other paper would touch, issues that mattered to the average New Yorker. Now I'm reading about someone's candy addiction, Sarah Silverman, and other nonsense. I think the Voice has lost its soul and forgotten its core audience.
Iraq and a hard place
Re "Get On the Busand the Train and the Carpool" [Sarah Ferguson, January 2430]: Please tell Ms. Sanchez that her son should not have signed up for the military if he was not prepared to spend time on the battlefield. The brave men and women of our armed forces understand the sacrifices they need to be prepared to make when they sign their enlistment papers. She receives no sympathy from me, but I wish her son Godspeed.
Painting by numbers
Re "Seeing Dollar Signs" [January 2430] by Jerry Saltz: While the piece is accurate overall, if not many years too late, I disagree with this:
"For critics to demonize the entire art world . . . as somehow unethical and crass seems self-righteous, cynical, and hypocritical."
The art world is not so much "unethical" as it is simply without ethics entirely. If the art market has a positive effect on anything other than making money, it is by accident. This is true of all markets.
The fact that the art market "allows more artists to make more money without having to work full-time soul-crushing jobs" is not to its credit. If making life harder for artists generated more money then that's what it would do. There is no benevolent or malevolent force behind the art market.
It is not "cynical" to dismiss the art market as having nothing to do with creating better art; it's just a boring, conventional fact about how all markets operate.
La Jolla, California
Show me the Monet
Jerry Saltz's article on the Whitney ["Moving Arts," January 1016] was terrific. I attended the museum's January 2006 symposium at the New School regarding the Biennial, featuring its past curators and introducing the new ones from England and France. I left feeling that artists working in New York don't have a chance to show at the Whitney. I actually contemplated moving. Can't do it.
How about some relief for all the women artists out there who are finding it difficult to exhibit their work in solo shows lately? I haven't read statistics like these since the Guerrilla Girls were active.
Children of Men was a cheap thrill ride for self-hating Westerners like J. Hoberman ["Don't Believe the (Lack of) Hype," December 2026]. In five years it will pale in comparison to real studies of our collapse, like Hour of the Wolf or the novel Dhalgren, themselves cryptic and not as neat as the religious sentimentality that pervades Children of Men.
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