How sad it is to wake up on a Sunday morning, pick up The Times and find the front pages filled with violence around the world, the Metro section filled with violence in our neighborhoods and the Calendar pages filled with the violence of a critic's tongue ("Land of the Blockbuster," by Robert Koehler, Feb. 7).
I didn't realize until that morning that my three visits to see "Daddy's Dying" were such an awful thing to do. How could I have subjected myself and my friends to such a retrograde experience?
My God, did all the laughter and joy it brought me really do my love for being entertained such irreparable damage? Were my friends who said they loved it lying to me? Do they secretly hate me for putting them through this? Were these actors whom I thought so wonderful really so bad? Am I a bad judge of character? Should I see a shrink?
I think not; and I also think that when I see a byline with the name Koehler on it, I should treat it like I do the junk mail . . . disregard it.
You see, life is too short, and I know when something feels good. "Daddy's Dying" made me feel good.