My mind is boggled at the following description of my band’s CD, My Name Is Thomas… in the review of the Long Island Music Coalition MP3 compilation [Digital LI, Sept. 23]. Ian D’Giff wrote:

“, the band whose My Name Is Thomas CD was a laughable and offensive rip-off of the Who’s Tommy, rolls out a tune from that misbegotten disc. ‘Last Prayer’ is a poor attempt at mimicking Townshend’s slow acoustic numbers, replete with a misplaced electric guitar solo.”

Other than the CD being an opera and a primary character named Thomas (as per the biblical doubting Thomas, not as per the randomly chosen name of Tommy by the Who), I cannot figure in what other way the Who have been ripped off. There is no child character, no pinball, no deaf, dumb and blindness, in fact no similarity I can see at all. The storyline is about the loss of faith in the context of a dysfunctional family, and finding meaning in life, meaning without that faith. Is that what Tommy was about? Actually, I’m not precisely sure what the original Tommy was about, as great as the music was.

I have no beef with someone disliking our musical or lyrical style, our production technique or other subjective criteria. You can’t please everyone. But it is incorrect to assume some kind of deliberate rip-off. It truly makes me wonder if Mr. D’Giff has ever listened to the CD and whether he understood the storyline. If he did understand it, perhaps he was offended by the provocative message and felt required to trash it.

Gerry Dantone

Raising hell

Regarding Erik Bresnihan’s reaction to Life after college [Letters, Sept. 23], the last sentence of his statement was totally out of line! Not only to the person he was speaking of [an accidentally pregnant student], but also to would-be mothers and parents out there right now: Raising this child should be this woman’s punishment for getting herself into this situation? So raising a kid is not on your Top-10 most admirable/glamorous careers list. That doesn’t mean it’s the equivalent to the crud underneath your fingernails, sir.

Maria Lopez
Northern Virginia

Jocks or jerks?

Kevin Costner’s performance in the movie For Love of the Game [Movie review, Sept. 16] exemplifies a man’s preoccupation with the games of sports and the preponderate male’s disposition to exalt his sporting activities to excel the women’s options; in essence, to suggest the male sport is incomparable or immeasurable to a women’s alternative and to convey the fallacious ideal that women envy men.

Such pompous arrogance has perpetrated our culture primarily influenced by the male’s dominance and exposure in the media and in the newspapers with the inclusion of sporting articles in editorial placement or commanding front page coverage, or incorporating sporting events in televised and radio news broadcasts.

The adolescent persona manifested at the first novice male sporting event has ascended into adulthood concurrent to the denial of maturity as grown men continue to play little boy games and promote sports coverage as newsworthy or the narration and depiction of sports themes in the cinema as general interest to the audience.

Movies such as For Love of the Game are an attempt to rejuvenate the male youthfulness and indulge his ego.

Mrs. Susan Davniero

Once upon a time…

This letter is for all students at SUNY Farmingdale. Memorize the exact location of the campus emergency boxes. You may need to use them one day.

As a freshmen in 1983, I worked in the library sorting and returning books to the shelves. A rapist was caught by several male students who happened to see him entering a ladies room. (One of their friends was raped by him.) And an exhibitionist was stopped by me. He caught me off-guard. Then he caught a nursing book right between the eyes.
Name withheld upon request

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