It seems to me that it is the Nashville Scene that is out of step with most people in Tennessee NOT the other way around ("The Boner Awards 2009," Dec. 17).
Why did David Maddox waste the Scene's art page writing about the bland rectangles of Lars Strandh ("One Strandh at a Time," Dec. 10)? There are so many wonderful artists in need of recognition. Some of these painters have even learned to draw. Some of them make works of art that are rich with expression. Maddox spent three columns trying to explain that Strandh's paintings aren't as crappy as they look (!). But if a painting lacks a center of interest, it is not art, it is wallpaper.
Mr. Bonner, thank you, thank, thank you! for your article ("Love/Hate Mail," Dec. 17). This county, state, and the whole country needs MORE MEN like you. I'd rather have you as a friend and neighbor than those sissy no-gun-law cowards.
Excellent job, Jeff, of summing up the Bart Gordon situation ("Before They Make Him Run," Dec. 17)! You hit it all right on the head! I'll look forward to seeing you follow the race this next year!
OMG! I feel such guilt when I watch commercials for all these fabulous toys ("Dashing Through the Dough," Dec. 17). I made the mistake of telling a group of people that I only spent $7 on Zeke's Christmas presents at Toys R Us and I was looked at like I was the WORST mother in the world. I seriously have to fight my own urge to buy these useless toys that will annoy me and that he won't care about just to make me feel better. Ugh.
I agree — the [movie version of The Road] is not as good as the novel ("The Road to Perdition," Dec. 17). But at the same time, I do think it is the best movie that could have been made based on a book so unrelentingly bleak (and I am a huge fan of the book). It's true that the movie does keep adding a few words to a line or an extra smile or just some little extra touch to moments from the book that add an extra redemptive element — like it just can't stare the bleakness and absolute terror of the book fully in the face. It gets close, but it can't commit. I'm not even sure if it would be possible for humans to act the particular humanity of the book — it's just too complex!
That being said, I think my favorite added part in the film is when the Boy sits coloring with a bunch of crayons all at once. His art is beautiful and ugly at the same time — in fact, unflinchingly both. It's exactly what a child coloring in [this] post-apocalypse would draw — a picture of nothing marked by the desire to try to keep drawing nevertheless.
Thank you, Diann Blakely, for this wonderful portrait of Eleanor Ross Taylor, one of our best Southern poets who has not gotten her due, I fear, but whose work will stand the test of time ("In Her Own Right," Dec. 17). It is so important to honor those who have blazed the trail for the rest of us.
Bob [Dylan]'s Christmas album feeds the hungry ("Discomfort and Joy," Dec. 3). That in itself is reason for the album to be made.
And it's too bad the LP doesn't fit into your comfy and narrow template. The production of the album is impeccable. The arrangements and performances are top-notch. Yeah, Bob is the singer. His voice makes the songs sound real to me again. Rather than being slick and throwaway ear candy, many of the songs have a depth I haven't heard in a long time.
No, I am not a person that worships Bob. I got the album as an early Christmas present and I had the album for a month before I had the nerve to listen to it. This weekend I finally opened it and completely enjoyed the music.
You described so many of the dishes I have enjoyed ("Time of Arrival," Nov. 19). I've been going since the early days and you are right — no matter who is in the kitchen (and they ALL have been good), the Scotts keep the culture the same, but never boring. This is by far my favorite place to dine anywhere; not only because of the fun concept, wine selection and quality/presentation of the food, but because whether it be Doc, one of the Scotts or any of the servers or hostesses, everyone is made to feel VIP while in the house of Flyte.
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