Time and Place - Letters to the Editor
Local beer, Metro Man and putt-putt
CHEER FOR LOCAL BEER
I must say that Creative Loafing's "Beer Issue" (June 15) lacked in the "beer issues." What about the local breweries? You know, the guys that make the average barfly excited about their hometown heroes? What about the styles of beer, not just the glass associated with the style? I've been brewing professionally for more than 13 years, and it totally blows me away that publications in Georgia don't support local beers. How can we get the word out to other parts of the country about our breweries if we don't support them at home?
-- Eric Geralds, Atlanta
HATE THY NEIGHBOR
Igloo salesmen are prospering in hell; we agree two weeks in a row, Metro Man ("Theocrats in Toccoa," June 8). I find it deftly ironic that these "Christians" can wreak such hate from a theocracy whose cornerstones are love and compassion. Then again, it's fear that drives one to religion, so I guess it's not that ironic after all.
-- Troy Garrett, Atlanta
FEAR AND LOATHING IN ATLANTA
I appreciated John Sugg's "The day after peak oil" (June 1). Sprawl is a monument to our folly. Two of its most damaging effects are fractionation and separation of socioeconomic classes into insular subdivisions where fear and loathing for out-groups supplants empathy; resulting in the creation of sterile bedroom communities, which produce generations of bored, listless squab. Sadly, sprawl's totalitarian grip won't be broken without wrenching upheaval, which now seems to be right down the road.
-- Dean Poirier, Duluth
PUTT-PUTT STRIKES BACK
About one month ago as I enjoyably read through Creative Loafing, I stumbled upon an article that excited and then disappointed me. The said article was "Tilting at windmills, the current state of miniature golf" (May 18), and it has nagged at my mind ever since I first digested its finely written, but misguided, words. Make no mistake, the article was wonderfully written, which unfortunately made your message hurt all the more.
As the owner of the Oaks Miniature Golf, I take offense to the statement, "putt-putt golf courses are a dying breed." I'd like to take the opportunity to correct you. Had you visited my course, you might have found that, though the windmills are long gone, the spirit of miniature golf remains strong. As our society evolved and branched out from Spam and 5-cent candy bars, miniature golf courses too have distanced themselves from the "old-school" windmill theme.
Although your nostalgia is understandable, please do not let it influence you to write off the new wave of landscaping. In fact, our design was celebrated with an "award of merit" from the Georgia chapter of the American Society of Landscape Architects. Perhaps the dinosaurs are extinct, but a new breed of sleek greens, rockwork, waterfalls and foliage has emerged. The new design may have forgone the beloved "kitschy style," but our goal is to appeal to those who love nature and peaceful fun, who compare our course with "a walk in the park."
Though I praise the publicity of miniature golf, a long neglected arena of entertainment, I wish you could have realized that your readers are generally willing to travel for quality. Please consider giving us a visit next time you are in the Lake Lanier region. Though we can't offer any windmills, we can promise you a round of golf (that yes, a liberal arts major can play) and some excellent ice cream.
-- Bill Oberholtzer, Gainesville
owner, Oaks Miniature Golf LLC
MAKING THE GRADE
I "grade" installments of The Blotter using a series of codes: FS (fuckin' stupid), FN (fuckin' nuts), ATL (only in Atlanta — like your prohibition against selling dildos on Sunday), SH (Shit Happens) and OG (original gangster).
For example, the cop who left his car keys in his cruiser and didn't set the parking brake (June 15) rated an FS rating. I was tempted to also code it ATL but our cops in San Francisco are just as bad. They will beat you up and steal your Taco Bell chalupas if they're really in the mood for Mexican.
-- Michael C. Goncalves, San Francisco