Our readers speak, with heartfelt honesty
by Scott McNutt
Tonight, Metro Pulse celebrates its 10th anniversary! On such a momentous occasion, we feel it is only right to hand the microphone over to our devoted readers. Following are real, and, I believe, profoundly sincere, reader comments:
"The...article...was a waste of good paper..."
"...I thought it was in poor taste..."
"...very, very, very BLANCA void of color, journalistic ability, and any form of social graces."
"I find this...unconscionable..."
"...it is also an insult..."
"...I am amazed and angered...[it] was...full of piss and vinegar."
"I wish you...would lay off the News-Sentinel..."
"...somebody laid a serious egg..."
"...such an idiotic and foolish editorial..."
"...1,000 people will never read your publication again."
"I'm a bit dismayed..."
"I was disappointed..."
"I am disappointed..."
"I must write and express my disappointment..."
"I am surprised and disappointed..."
"I am, to say the least, surprised and very disappointed..."
"It was with disappointment but not surprise..."
"I am very disgusted and sadly disappointed..."
"Aren't you just a little ashamed..?"
"...After all...we would not let a man with 'Pedophile and Pervert' tattooed on his head enter our front door. Why let him in...the back door?"
"I am utterly appalled..."
"...you guys [have] a terrible reputation..."
"And furthermore, Mike Gibson errs..."
"...If I were Joe Tarr's editor I would be embarrassed."
"You are cowards..."
"...You need smarter reviewers."
There, isn't everyone in a festive mood now? No? Well, see, that's why we have these self-promotional "celebrations": to bribe readers. It's the only way we can get any "fans" at all. The truth is, Metro Pulse sucks the big weenie. The truth is, Knoxville would be better off without it. The readers quoted above know it. You know it. We know it. JoJo, the Metro Pulse Prize Monkey, knows it. Below is a random collection of reasons why.
First of all, with as competent and comprehensive a daily paper as our own, who needs an "alternative" weekly? And confess: You're secretly tired of "Secret History," aren't you? Plus, with no Metro Pulse, you'd never have to read another editorial about TennCare. Or the state budget. And no Joe Tarr. So WUTK could rest in peace. Amen.
Now, admittedly, without Metro Pulse, Mike Gibson wouldn't be the man he is today. (Of course, compared to Gibson, Fuzzles, our 12-foot-tall imaginary intern, is normal.) If there were no Metro Pulse, no one ever would have had to learn how to spell as ridiculous a name as "Coury Turczyn"; if he had any sense of decency, he'd have changed it to "Curry Tourism" long ago. (On the other hand, we wouldn't have had the opportunity to mock as absurd a name as "Jesse Fox Mayshark.") And does anyone seriously believe a person named "Martini" exists?
Furthermore, we write too much about Superdrag. And furthermore, we don't write enough about Superdrag. Besides, we're chickens! We hide behind silly pseudonyms like "Zippy McDuff," "Ally Carte," and "Zak Weisfeld" to trash movies, frighten German restaurants, and mercilessly savage good, decent bands like, like, like...".38 Special."
Then there're the "adult entertainment" ads. Here's one category in which you'd think a scummy bird-cage liner like Metro Pulse would excel. Other alt weeklies run outrageously sinful ads whose meaning cannot be misconstrued. But Metro Pulse? I'll let reader Kim Inklebarger explain: "I am saddened by these ads and also by all of the ads for [massages] given in the trailers in gravel parking lots...outside of the city...These places and their ads are an insult to...licensed and professional reflexologists..." That's right! Our adult ads slander the good name of reflexologists!
Downtown would be a redeveloped, revitalized Worsham/Watkins-style "festival market-playground" if it weren't for our pesky "investigative journalists" (or "goddamn nosy reporters" to use the more common term). And people wouldn't keep jabbering about that stupid Market Square all the time. And that do-nothin', agin'-everythin', muck-rakin', trouble-stirrin' chat group called "K2K" would not exist. And that home for degenerates known as Macleod's would have closed long ago.
And Knoxville's Power Elite would rest comfortably at night.
And best of all, no more columns like this one.
To sum it all up, I'll once again let a reader explain:
"Metro Pulse is a joke."
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, Knoxville.
August 2, 2001 * Vol. 11, No. 31
© 2001 Metro Pulse
| 
