Department of Corrections We screwed up! In last week's print edition (June 6) we incorrectly stated that the letter, "Notice: Popular Recreation Forest Near Bend Slated for Logging" was written by Kevin Larkin, district ranger for the Bend-Ft. Rock Ranger District. The letter was written by Karen Coulter of Blue Mountains Biodiversity Project.
I would like to thank Jim Anderson for his June 6 column concerning trapping, and the suffering and death it indiscriminately inflicts upon tens of thousands of animals every year. TrapFree Oregon is a group of devoted volunteers trying to get a ballot measure on Oregon's November 2014 ballot that will give voters the opportunity to end this abhorrent practice. Unfortunately, similar ballot measures over the past few decades have been defeated by wealthy, paranoid lobbyists who have misled voters into believing that ending trapping would be a first step toward ending hunting, fishing, gun ownership, freedom, and the American Way. This is simply not true: Licensed hunting is an admirable and ethical way to obtain one's meat for consumption.
At one end of the wildlife-taking spectrum are the licensed hunters whom TrapFree Oregon has absolutely no criticism of; at the other end of the scale are the 766 licensed trappers who recorded the killing of 23,439 furbearers in the yearlong 2010-2011 season. Who knows how many birds of prey and "undesirable" animals were maimed and/or killed and not recorded? Trappers and the good ol' boys who run the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife still think this is the 1870s when it was manly to exterminate vast numbers of animals for marketing to the city slickers back east and in Europe. Times have changed. This is not the era of seemingly endless wildlife and few humans; now is the era of seemingly endless humans and few wildlife.
This indiscriminate and torturous method of animal abuse must end, and I call on all hunters to separate yourselves from the unconscionable trappers. These 766 licensed sadists (er, pardon me—heroic figures of the pioneer era) are not your brothers-in-arms. People no longer need animal skins to keep warm, and people don't need to torture wildlife indiscriminately with these barbaric, despicable contraptions. Deer hunters do not shoot the legs of every species of animal they see and then allow those crippled creatures to suffer for hours or days before finally ending their misery. So hunters, please do not believe next year's pre-election barrage of television ads that will attempt to portray the anti-trap movement as an attack on hunting rights. Hunting for one's food is admirable and ethical, but torturing animals for their skins is not. Please help end this indiscriminate, vicious cruelty.
In your June 6 issue you promote an all-white, male band from Portland called "Black Pussy." You highlight Black Pussy as "Our Picks" for Saturday night.
The name of this band is racist and sexist.
Sure, there's a lot of racism, sexism, ignorance and hate online, but to have this band promoted in the Source as mainstream and hip is disturbing.
The band Black Pussy is denigrating to women and African-Americans. The Source is welcoming them with open arms. What's up? Is Internet porn infiltrating our mainstream culture, and clouding people's basic sense of what is right or wrong?
Is this the type of town we want Bend to be? What time of culture do we want our sons and daughters to grow up with?
(Editor's note: Maybe they are referring to a cat?)
NASCAR in spandex.
So what's the argument that city emergency services are underfunded? And what's the argument that Visit Bend doesn't market to the kind of people who stay in hotel rooms?
It may be true that Bend's a bike-friendly town, but I'm not convinced the cyclists are pedestrian-friendly. I've been almost run over more than once when walking the Old Mill trails and other places in town. A simple "on your left" or "behind you" is standard cycling etiquette, at least in most places I've been—where I've put in my own share of miles on two wheels. Here, 95 percent of the time a rider pedals past in silence. When I do get the warning, I make sure to say "thank you" in return as a reinforcement.
Another issue is the number of cyclists who use the sidewalks right alongside a well marked bike lane. Too often while walking, I've had to get out of the way of adults on the sidewalk. I understand in the case of children the adults in their lives might be concerned about their safety, but at some point, children need to learn what that bike lane is there for so pedestrians aren't at risk.
If the city does decide to go the bike licensing route, I suggest it require a course in bike etiquette.
I graduated from MBA in the late '90s. I found out last week that it was shut down. The school no doubt helped me...during my time there and for six months after graduation. In the following three years I did more drugs than I ever thought possible: coke, mushrooms, special k, crack, crank, speed, meth, ecstasy, dmt, and a number of others . I couldn't function without drugs, my social anxiety would cause screaming in my head (just like being screamed at in group therapy and life steps). The only thing the school did for me was make every single situation outside of my home awkward and surreal. I walk down the street nervous that I will be attacked, constantly checking behind me as though I'm being followed. I have recurring nightmares about being at the school at least twice a week; some of the nightmares I am my current age still stuck there, and other dreams are about my stay there but I can never remember the details. I will never forget that the school made me dress up like a Chippendale and strip down to some skimpy underwear that they gave me. It was embarrassing, humiliating, and actually did not relate to me at all. I can say without a doubt that I was one of the best students at MBA. I graduated high school a year early (I took a number of independent study classes and tested out of other classes), I held two jobs at the school, and I organized trips/events with students on campus and off.
If you think making a 15-year-old-boy dress up like a Chippendale and pretend to be a stripper, right down to the skimpy underwear (given to him by the faculty) in front of eight of his peers and two faculty is not abuse... fuck you. Imagine if your neighbor got you and eight friends together, locked all of you in the basement and forced you be a stripper or give lap dances to each other... that neighbor would be in prison for a long time.