Letters

Letters 08-31-2015

Inalienable Rights This is a response to the “No More State Theatre” in your August 24th edition. I think I will not be the only response to this pathetic and narrow-minded letter that seems rather out of place in the northern Michigan that I know. To think we will not be getting your 25 cents for the movie you refused to see, but more importantly we will be without your “two cents” on your thoughts of a marriage at the State Theatre...

Enthusiastically Democratic Since I was one of the approximately 160 people present at when Senator Debbie Stabenow spoke on August 14 in Charlevoix, I was surprised to read in a letter to Northern Express that there was a “rather muted” response to Debbie’s announcement that she has endorsed Hillary Clinton for president...

Not Hurting I surely think the State Theatre will survive not having the homophobic presence of Colleen Smith and her family attend any matinees. I think “Ms.” Smith might also want to make sure that any medical personnel, bank staff, grocery store staff, waiters and/or waitress, etc. are not homosexual before accepting any service or product from them...

Stay Home I did not know whether to laugh or cry when I read the letter of the extremely homophobic, “disgusted” writer. She now refuses to patronize the State Theatre because she evidently feels that its confines have been poisoned by the gay wedding ceremony held there...

Keep Away In response to Colleen Smith of Cadillac who refused to bring her family to the State Theatre because there was a gay wedding there: Keep your 25 cents and your family out of Traverse City...

Celebrating Moore And A Theatre I was 10 years old when I had the privilege to see my first film at the State Theatre. I will never forget that experience. The screen was almost the size of my bedroom I shared with my older sister. The bursting sounds made me believe I was part of the film...

Outdated Thinking This letter is in response to Colleen Smith. She made public her choice to no longer go to the State Theater due to the fact that “some homosexuals” got married there. I’m not outraged by her choice; we don’t need any more hateful, self-righteous bigots in our town. She can keep her 25 cents...

Mackinac Pipeline Must Be Shut Down Crude oil flowing through Enbridge’s 60-yearold pipeline beneath the Mackinac Straits and the largest collection of fresh water on the planet should be a serious concern for every resident of the USA and Canada. Enbridge has a very “accident” prone track record...

Your Rights To Colleen, who wrote about the State Theatre: Let me thank you for sharing your views; I think most of us are well in support of the first amendment, because as you know- it gives everyone the opportunity to express their opinions. I also wanted to thank Northern Express for not shutting down these types of letters right at the source but rather giving the community a platform for education...

No Role Model [Fascinating Person from last week’s issue] Jada quoted: “I want to be a role model for girls who are interested in being in the outdoors.” I enjoy being in the outdoors, but I don’t want to kill animals for trophy...

Home · Articles · News · Random Thoughts · Who Gives a Hoot?
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Who Gives a Hoot?

Robert Downes - February 6th, 2003
Lately I‘ve noticed that the mere mention of the proposed Hooter‘s restaurant in Traverse City is enough to send quite a number of my female friends into a fire-breathing rage. To get men this mad, you have to talk about something just as crass and trashy, like the Lions.
It‘s not hard to imagine why a restaurant that celebrates the mammary glands with a little wink-wink, sugar & spice attitude for its clientele of frat boy types would set women off. I don‘t think I‘d care to dine at a joint called Dickie‘s where the waiters wore codpieces, after all.
Although Hooter‘s is no longer considering the site of the former Pepper‘s Grill at the doorstep of downtown TC, it is reportedly questing around for another location.
So get ready for another controversy fraught with all the fluff & feathers of the giant power poles near downtown. The last time Hooter‘s came sniffing around a couple of years ago, folks hereabouts got their underpants in quite a bunch over it, and there’s nothing tighter than the knot in a Northern Michigander’s outraged briefs.
Fortunately, my own underwear will remain unbunched because I‘ve been to a couple of Hooter’s restaurants, and failed to discover what the big deal is all about.
At least, I think I went to two of them. The first, in Baltimore, made such a slight impression that it‘s possible I just walked by the place. There were some college girl waitresses in orange hot pants and tight white tee-shirts, but they didn‘t look all that lascivious. If anything, they had that ho-hum, well-scrubbed, Britney Spears-in-a-Pepsi-commercial look. And the young male customers in the place weren‘t leering at their “hooters“ in the over-the-top manner that some females imagine; although they did cast furtive glances in the waitresses‘ direction when they thought the ladies weren‘t looking -- the same as in any restaurant or bar you can imagine from Manistee to Mackinaw City.
My second run-in with Hooter‘s was in Anchorage, Alaska, which is a wilderness of chain stores and parking lots. After driving around for an eternity looking for a place to eat other than McDonald‘s, I reluctantly dined at a Hooter‘s in a shopping mall.
Maybe it was an off day, but the food was as so-so as the scenery. It was your typical deep-fried chain restaurant fare, and my chicken sandwich tasted like the owl on Hooter‘s logo (though I‘ve heard their quesadilla is quite good). And although I would never disparage a lady‘s looks (considering my own unfortunate appearance), I must confess in the spirit of investigative journalism that the waitresses apparently weren‘t selected for their you-know-what‘s. They were just regular people of the female persuasion.
What ticks many women off, however, is the idea of sexual objectification. That would certainly make me mad if it ever happened to me -- but fortunately, no such luck there. Newspaper editors don‘t get objectified like rock stars: the popular image of an editor is that of a Clark Kent, only geekier and scrawnier and nerdier -- we don‘t suffer the pain of being objectified, except as a pair of floating specs, perhaps.
Still, I think there are probably worse things in the world than fantasizing about someone‘s breasts while eating a french dip sandwich and fries (Saddam Hussein, perhaps), but am willing to agree that there should be an element of tit-for-tat in our glandular restaurant choices.
For instance, I have noticed that certain ladies of my acquaintance (who shall remain nameless) have admired George Clooney‘s buns in the new film, “Solaris“ (Clooney‘s are way too round in my opinion -- like the foothills of the Rockies). And Mel Gibson‘s buns, and Ben Affleck‘s sad sack ass and even Kevin Costner‘s flat flanks, ad nauseum. Nothing makes me angrier than the thought of these exploited males having their buns objectified, or the idea that some crass female is enjoying a giggle and tiny moment of sexy fun.
But fair‘s fair. So why not a restaurant called Buns where the male waiters walk around in cowboy chaps with their posteriors displayed au naturale? Just don‘t make me eat there, because I‘m already losing my lunch just thinking about it.
The worst thing I‘ve heard about Hooter‘s is that it exploits young women who bombed out of high school and are forced to rely on what they‘ve got at a chest level instead of what‘s between their ears. If it weren‘t for the exploitive influence of Hooter‘s, these gals could be doing work with dignity, like scrubbing floors or squirting ketchup on burgers. Or they could make a dramatic turnaround in their lives, undoing years of scholastic laziness and dumb moves to become oceanographers or neurosurgeons.
What? You say there are some waitresses at Hooter‘s who attend college, get good grades, have high self-esteem, think the job is kind of fun, and have no shame about exploiting shmucks to get bigger tips by flaunting their appearance? That sort of talk smacks of empowerment and self-determination, and has no place in a column blasting Hooter‘s, so keep it to yourself.
Bottom line, Hooter‘s is like a lot of controversial things with an ick factor: Madonna‘s latest film, a cold bath in lumpy gravy, US 131 during rush hour, and Michael Jackson‘s choice of nose jobs: If you don‘t like it, just don‘t go there.
 
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