LETTERS

Term limits' limits

Re: Term limits: A case study ["Editor's Note," March 14]. Term limits were supposed to give us better candidates and, thereby, better government; at least that was the selling point. The reality is that term limits were pushed primarily to get a few people out of office. Presidential term limits were in response to FDR's four terms, and California's term limits were largely in response to Willy Brown's long tenure as Assembly speaker.

Term limits have not lived up to the advertised billing; we have not gotten better government, the associated loss of experience and continuity can be problematic, and not only do we not get better candidates from which to choose, we sometimes go from bad to worse.

We don't have better government because we don't have an informed, involved and objective populace. Of those eligible to vote, many do not register; of those registered, many do not vote; of those who vote, many are not up to speed on the issues and candidates; of those who are up to speed, many are gullible and do not grasp the ramifications of certain decisions, or else they vote based on wedge issues or their selfish interests instead of what's best for all of us in the long run.

The bottom line is, term limits are nothing but a shortcut that does not address the real reasons why we don't have better government, and, as is usually the case, shortcuts have unintended consequences.

Dan Jacobs,
Mira Mesa

The Stooges have earned it

When I saw Hunter S. Thompson speak in 1980 on the tenth anniversary of Jimi Hendrix's death, somebody in attendance asked him to comment on Bob Dylan, who had recently begun performing songs reflecting his conversion to Christianity. Hunter responded that Bob Dylan had earned the right to do whatever he wanted to do. The same could certainly be said of Iggy and the Stooges, whose worst album will always be better than Chris Hawkins' best review [April 11].

Markel Tumlin,
Normal Heights

Misdiagnosis

Had I known I was infected by an unidentified viral infection, I would have sought professional medical advise, say, well over a decade ago when Sanitarium Sublimum ["Music," March 21] entered my (sound) system. San Diegans are eternally indebted to the Nobel Prize-winning scientific team that has had such a close pulse on our City(heart)Beat and to your outstanding (worthy of a Pulitzer) journalism skills. For it was not until reading your article that I deeply understand why I habitually use the idiomatic term "bro," wear Dickies shorts and surf. All this time, I thought it was merely a transgression of my inner self materializing in cultures I identify with, and in actuality, it has been Sublime's influence on my personal identity.

You see, I have been reading CityBeat for many years now (being an S.D. native, former club promoter, current high school social science teacher and grad student-note: this could all be bullshit, ya know? Be wary of believing what you read solely because it is in print) as I attempt, in a sociological manner, to analyze S.D.'s various cultures and subcultures. I've become a passive participant as the years transpire, using your magazine as a means of reconnecting myself to the pulse of the city. As I read "Zero ounces" and am informed that my psychological stability is in jeopardy. I quiver with fear, and in my delusional state of denial I question the entire physician and CityBeat team. I'm looking for (actually giving) a second opinion.

Until now, I was under the impression that Sublime represented a subculture that the band members were influenced by, not the other way around. Let's move with caution from this point on because now we're moving into the field of social epidemics and diction is crucial. Speaking of diction, Mr. Troy Johnson, isn't "scientific nomenclature" redundant? It is also evident of a novice journalist attempting to be a wordsmith. The rest of your allegorical tirade doesn't even raise a "wow, that's pretty creative" eyebrow in my satirical-essay analysis. What you should have done was develop the notion of 91X and 94/9 promoting mediocrity and overkill-that could be an influential piece. Instead, readers of CityBeat are left with a waste of space, which is a shame in a metropolis that suffers from too much wasted artistic space.

So, as I write, I continue to be skeptical of a diagnosis (look Troy, I am going back to your juvenile allegorical style) that arrives more than a decade after Bradley's death. Shouldn't this article have been written years ago, bro? (As a point of clarification, I use "bro," "dude" (very flexible), "homey," "G" (remember that one?) and "money" somewhat interchangeably). Am I infected with multiple viruses? How come the readers weren't offered avenues to recovery from Sanitarium Sublimum? Were we supposed to synthesize your marginal column "If I Were U" and apply that to our recovery? Shit, I'm having a moment of clarity in my 40-ounce saturated view of society. If "If I Were U" is our salvation, then Casbah, Che and Epicentre are the meccas. Peace Punks of the World, Unite! What a movement, what a social protest! (Remember Wabash Hall, J.R. YMCA, Las Mananitas, TJ?) Your finger is definitely on the pulse of the city (flatline).

You see, Sublime connected with a culture that already existed, therefore representing it. Their "40 oz. to Freedom" didn't create us; the fusion represented us, in some sense. And as I've written this, I've downed a 40 and am peering into the empty bag-a bag you seemingly can't write yourself out of.

Lonny Wood,
Ocean Beach