Rock Candy

I just wanted to express my disappointment/disgust with Lindsey Millar's review of the John Prine show. As someone who really wanted to attend but couldn't afford the ticket, I was anxious to read the review. Instead of a review of the show, what I got was a detailed description of Millar's whistling. When he whistled, how loud he whistled, how many fingers he used to whistle. By his own admission he was drunk and obnoxious, though I don't think he was aware of how obnoxious his actions were. Really, how disrespectful can you be to an artist, thinking that your whistling to the chorus enhances his music? Perhaps it is a good thing I couldn't afford a ticket because my show would have been ruined by Millar's incessant whistling.

Does the Times really endorse their contributors getting drunk and acting a fool at these events? I hope I never have the misfortune of attending a show in which Millar is in attendance and I hope the Times never relies on him for a review in the future.

Cathy Barker-Brown

North Little Rock

This was one of three letters registering disgust over my drunken, persistent whistling. I got one on Friday from someone who admitted to fantasizing about judo chopping my pharnyx so hard that blood spew and who owned up to following me out of the auditorium and very nearly pushing me down the stairs.

SO. In case this unsigned letter writer happens to read the blog and someday sees my picture somewhere, DO NOT convince yourself that the balding and pudgy middle-aged dude who was whistling so hard at the John Prine concert that he appeared to be very near passing out has somehow morphed into a lanky, goofy-looking redhead with a full head of hair and kill me. He is not me. It was a joke. I was trying to imagine what was going through the (very-real) whistler's head.

I'm sure all y'all got it, though?