Regarding Dave Maass' story about fuel spills off the coast [“The Front Lines,” Oct. 6]: Down at “no surf” in O.B. on a beautiful September day, I walked to the north end and climbed up onto the rock ledge. Conversing with a friend, I was not that concerned with purple stickiness on the side of my bare heal and some spots on my fingers. I eventually rubbed it on a rock and believed it to be some kind of sappy berry.
On the south walk back to the entrance, I noticed on a rock that could be engulfed by a high tide what I instantly believed to be a wad of tar. It was the size of a meat slab carnivores call “burger” but more round and flattened by gravity. The outer coat was dried and waxy-looking. I poked it with a stick, and it looked just like tar. I smelled it, and it smelled exactly like tar. As a whole, it was black, but spread thin it was a deep purple.
I am writing because your article states that it's not hitting shore. I was on the shore in September, and there was absolutely positively tar tanning on a rock. Could these oil slicks have something to do with runoff from all the street repair that's been going down? It's stickin' to my skate wheels; why wouldn't it be stickin' to the fishes?
Devon Wiseley, Ocean Beach
Mai Tai memories
I enjoyed reading Kinsee Morlan's Mai Tai report [“Nightgeist,” Sept. 29]. The Bali Hai Mai Tai and I have a long history going back to August 1963, when my not-so-well-meaning friends introduced me to it before pouring me onto a red-eye to Washington, D.C., to get married. I still have vivid memories of trying to focus on my beloved waiting for me at the gate at dawn while the lingering Mai Tai bellowed in my brain.
The Bali Hai became, and remains, one of our favorite restaurants. Patti and I had our first anniversary there in 1964, and our older daughter was married there in 1995. The drink of choice? Mai Tai, of course.
I must point out, however, that the original Mai Tai was served with a floating, flaming lime slice on top, a paper parasol, fresh pineapple and a cherry—much classier than today's. It also delivered a “punch” that has endured through the years.
Thanks, Kinsee, for igniting the memory.
Bill Fuhrer, Clairemont
More on Mitch
The article “Is he a woman?” by D.A. Kolodenko [“Presently Tense,” Oct. 6] was a great read. This is an appropriate response to Mitch McConnell's meaningless and absurd insinuations about the president of the United States.
I have some additional insight that I would like to share: Sen. McConnell's political agenda leads me to believe that there's even more confusion in his life than that described in Kolodenko's article. I believe that it is possible that he started out as a man, changed to become a woman and then changed back to a man again. That type of personal confusion could be responsible for his political views.
Ronald Harris, Scripps Ranch
‘Sick' and twisted
I just finished reading the article about the Mexican rodeo [“Cover Story,” Sept. 29], and it left me nauseated. How can anyone treat an animal like that and still profess to love animals? This man loves domination, not the animal. If dogs or cats were treated like these horses and cattle, the perpetrator would be charged with felony animal cruelty.
I spent eight years as a large-animal veterinarian working with beef cattle and horses.
No rancher would ever consider treating his livestock like these animals are treated. This “sport” is just plain sick.
Peggy W. Larson, Williston, Vt.
This issue of CityBeat is dedicated to Keith Olbermann, Juan Williams and Rick Sanchez—if they wrote for an alt-weekly, they wouldn't have to deal with that crap.