Letters

BITCH, BITCH, BITCH

I have always thought that Rebecca Schoenkopf was an ignorant bitch. With her eulogy to Linda's Doll Hut, I now know that she is ("Last Call," June 1). Becky, baby, don't try to blame me for the demise of the Doll Hut. I was there the night Alejandro Escovedo played. I was there last month for Thelonious Monster. I was there in July 1999, when Samantha's Favourite from Japan and the Jellybricks from Pennsylvania played. That night, I was the only person there who did not belong to a band that was playing that night. Where the hell were you, Schoenkopf? Probably at some gay-pride dance with your lesbian girlfriends who are just so impressed with the fact that you're a big-time newspaper columnist. Yippee. Schoenkopf, you are just as guilty—if not more so—as you purport me to be. And you are ignorant. Bitch.