Mail from our readers
Your fall TV preview (#83, Sept. 13) is my bible to fall TV. Which brings me to thank your journalistic monks Ken Tucker, Mark Harris, and Alan Carter. Truthfully, TV may not be pure viewing satisfaction, and some shows may very well be in a creative coma, but your articles give every half hour its half page and a fighting chance that someone will tune in. Special thanks to your photographic priest, George Lange. Each MVP pic made its star seem human.
Shingle Springs, Calif.
It seems Entertainment Weekly is becoming a pawn of the Big Four
networks. Your Sept. 13 issue promises it will be the ultimate guide
to all the new shows, new stars, and returning favorites. There was
almost nothing about A&E or the Discovery Channel's new lineup. These
channels are fast becoming the ones to watch and the only ones worth
Niagara University, N.Y.
Out of Synch
Milli Vanilli's Girl You Know It's True was full of catchy pop tunes that obviously appealed to many. People heard these songs, they liked these songs, they purchased these songs, and in my opinion, got what they paid for. Per your News & Notes article, if not for the greedy lawyers and publicity-starved radio stations, most consumers probably wouldn't have given (their lip-synching) a second thought.
Baton Rouge, La.
Lost and Found
Your issue on ''The 100 Best Movies of All Time'' ((#26 August 10, 1990) had become a delightful project for my wife and me. But we had only finished watching 62 of the 100 movies when we moved and misplaced the magazine! Thanks for your quick response. We look forward to completing our mission in the months to come.
Ed. Note: Upon being told of the Settineris' dilemma, Entertainment Weekly promptly dispatched a replacement copy.
Boy, I sure wish I could cancel my subscription to Entertainment Weekly. Unfortunately, as a member of the entertainment community, I find the magazine's editorial content helpful, even essential.
What has me so gosh darn steamed is that your subscription department telephoned me to tell me my subscription was expiring. I expressed displeasure at getting an uninvited phone call about such a trivial matter, and the call caused my attention to stray from the barbecue and the subsequent demise of two swell pieces of salmon.
As a member of the writing staff of The Carol Burnett Show, I
intend to propose a sketch in which, while waiting for an important
call, Carol is harassed by an endless stream of telephone pitchmen.
This is all the revenge that I, a mild-mannered writer, am really
Ed. Note: The magazine is essential, but so is dinner. We're sending over some beautiful salmon, with our apologies.