Pure

An outstanding article, "Lost in a Naturalist Wonderland on Santa Cruz" (April 17), by Heidi Ziolkowski, finally motivated me to thank you for your consistently excellent travel section. I assume Ziolkowski is a newcomer to your coterie of free-lance writers or else I have foolishly and regretfully missed her former contributions. Until now, I've not had any particular interest in visiting the islands off Santa Barbara. I followed up on the elaborately detailed information and booked arrangements for a group to visit Santa Cruz Island.

Ron Cuff's letter to the editor ("D.A.'s Crab Caper," Feb. 25) omits mentioning that: Lucky Food Centers admittedly misrepresented foods other than the fake crab meat (e.g., pastries labeled as made with pure dairy products were in fact made with substitutes); Lucky continued such misrepresentation despite several warnings; False labeling and false advertising are illegal. I also disagree with Cuff's opinion that pouring more money into the bottomless pit of public education would enable the average shopper to distinguish between crab meat and ersatz.

Regarding "Gladiator" ("Into the Arena," reviewed by Kenneth Turan, May 5): Here we had Russell Crowe, a lowbrow Richard Burton with, oh, what burdened brows, carrying all of Rome's hopes in his eyes, producing nary a smile or even a kiss for the girl, save one that sufficed (ha!) for lovemaking we never saw. We were given a pure, unmitigated Man, uncommonly affecting in his moody chunkiness, gladiating in an arena whose course was defined by phallic towers and a paean of ghastly noise, drowning out fairly good music.

In "Hint: The Oldies Are Still Goodies" (April 18), Geoff Boucher makes some interesting points but glosses over what I think is the main point. A big reason that "older" bands are still popular and draw new fans is because these bands are composed of true artists who play their own instruments and mostly write their own songs. These people made music for its own sake, and the feeling shows through in this music. Contrast that with the music of today, like the current teen pop craze.

I have no objection to Strawberry Saroyan's obvious schoolgirl crush on Shane Black (he is by turns "radiant," "confident," a "bruiser" and even like a doggy), but her ignorance of film history is a bit objectionable ["The End of a Fade for Black," May 1] . She states, "That cool, jive-talkin' guy nonchalantly backed up by epic explosions? Pure Black. It may be hard to believe, but the combination of wit and wild action in film was new in the late '80s." It is hard to believe. Impossible, actually.

Dear Mr. Simers, Regarding your July 16 article ("Open Season"): What have I been thinking the last two years? Instead of hating you, I should have been in awe of your awesome ability to point out the obvious. Gosh, you must have more football insight than most fifth-grade boys. Gee, your brand-new spin on the 49ers' soft schedule and questionable coaching is pure genius. Mr. Simers, you are a deity, your articles are gospel to me now and I worship you with reckless abandon. TONY LAVAGNINO Placentia I've learned to miss John Hall.

Last weekend I rented a video of a 1985 version of "Quo Vadis" starring Frederic Forrest, Max von Sydow and Klaus Maria Brandauer. The cover art and text promised an exciting, mature story of pagan Rome. The movie I saw could have been made by Billy Graham or Oral Roberts. Half of it consisted of religious figures reading Bible passages to each other. The film is pure religious propaganda. What amazes me is the R rating: There's no nudity, no profanity, only wimpy, mostly off-screen violence.

Wonderful story by Alison Manheim ["Her Ex Has Moved On, So She's Moved Online," March 10]. I feel bad for you if your boyfriend did dump you, but the only people who have to resort to online dating services are losers, pure and simple. All the men lie about everything to get dates, and the women really have no clue. They are just looking for the "fantasy," but they are not going to find it online. So don't feel bad about your ex; don't even think about it. Don't give that person the power to make you miserable.

Re "Palestinian Pain, One Kid at a Time," Opinion, May 6 Though no one can deny the reality of Palestinian suffering, and we all feel for Fareed Taamallah's daughter, there is a disturbing element to his account of her plight. It is apparently beyond Taamallah's imagination to believe that the Palestinians might bear some responsibility for their own suffering. In his account, Palestinians are pure victims, abused by Israel, the U.S. and the West, in that order. The Palestinians are free to elect Hamas; they are not free to evade the consequences of their actions.