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LettersPublished on August 19, 1998The Bad Doctor I had the occasion to be familiar with Crohn's disease and knew there was no reason for a pelvic exam to be done in connection with treatment -- and certainly not with that sort of frequency. I was absolutely astounded that a grown woman would not question a doctor who requested she show up on a Sunday for a pelvic examination with no nurse or other attendant being present. This woman would still be seeing the doctor if not for an insurance coverage change which resulted in her not being eligible for treatment by Dr. Parkinson. This and the other women's stories are just a constant reminder of what a bunch of sheep we've become as a society and how a doctor can stand under the banner of his profession and his religion to take advantage of others. Jennifer Hibner-Spencer It Pays to Advertise in the Weekly To UP/SP's credit, please let it be known that we, at Toner Depot, a regular SF Weekly advertiser, have recently received from the railroad's officers a load of approximately 100 to 200 pieces of unused toner products -- hazardous material that, if disposed of recklessly, could do a fair amount of damage in its own right -- as a donation to benefit March of Dimes. UP/SP made a conscious effort to maximize the benefit while minimizing the potential effects of just dumping these toners. By the way, it's quite likely they learned about us and our partnership with March of Dimes from our advertisement in SF Weekly. Steve Schwartz, Sales Manager Movies: Now, More Than Ever For the still-champion single-take first shot, check out the forthcoming rerelease of Welles' Touch of Evil, whose extended first shot is a triumph of form and content. Marc Olmsted A Jug of Merlot and Thou I wrote some pretty crappy, lovesick poetry when I was 14 -- but by my early 20s I realized that red wine was a quicker way to a girl's heart. Continue as planned -- make fun of Mr. Six-Pack at will. More Than Her Phair Share of Attention It seems Phair's persona from Exile in Guyville has hooked people for years despite totally marginal follow-ups. Didn't she tell you folks? The whole sex vixen in a cheerleader's body was a put-on, a bedroom fantasy of hers. Have you ever seen her try to play the guitar? The difference between Exile and her later material is that like a true artist, Phair did Exile because she had something to say. It appears that she did the next two albums because her ego or her contract or her husband or her manager or her label told her that she should. Here's the thing: Are we not inundated enough already with mediocrity that you have to devote your entire column to someone who couldn't hold Barbara Manning's dirty panties when it comes to honesty and true creativity? If you're gonna probe the depths of the uncelebrated indie-artist, Liz already had her 15 minutes. Don't get me wrong -- Exile was brilliant. She should have quit while she was ahead. So should you. Jeffrey Anderson Soulless Masturbation vs. A Big Supportive Hug
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