In response to your so-called "news," the article "Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves" [Underworld, June 20] was no news at all. I am sure this trash you call news must come from a "scorned mistress" herself, because no friend of one of your so-called "Mafioso wives" would ever try to hurt one of her girlfriends.

The women who are mistresses to these men have to know that they are just that, mistresses. The definition of such a woman is this: A woman who is sexually active with a married man, without the rights of a wife; a concubine; a loose woman with whom one consorts habitually. Basically, you had it right in the title "Tramps."

Printing these trashy articles in no way embarrasses these mistresses, evidentially they are proud of being just who they are, not the respected wives but the mistress who are alone on all holidays, special dates and Saturday nights. These women are not the mothers of these men's children. Any rumor of illegitimate children after the marriage is untrue. These women do not receive the respect and admiration of these women's husbands. These women, no matter how much they believe that they are the loves of these men's lives, are disposable.

In no way have these women affected the lives of the wives, the marriages or the family lives of these men. I just want you to think about the pain that these articles cause the wives, children and families of these men. Instead of printing trash about sex and scandal, why don't you consider writing about the strength of these women, the wives, who are picking up the pieces and going on to give their children well-rounded and happy lives, instead of trying to focus on the infidelities of these men? With all that is going on in our country today, don't you think that there is something more interesting to write about?

Thanks to Nate Chinen for a well-researched and fair-handed report on the state of Philadelphia's Mellon Jazz festival.

The point was made that Mellon has chosen to diss our mainstay real jazz clubs, Ortlieb's and Chris', in favor of large concerts of entertainers who can only marginally be considered jazz artists, and our Epcot Center version of a jazz club, Zanzibar Blue.

As Al McMahon and Pete Souders pointed out, even without financial subsidization, the halo effect of being part of the Mellon festival could have greatly assisted our neighborhood venues.

I guess a large, impersonal financial institution can henceforth be expected to put on large, impersonal events. We in the Philly jazz community should all be thankful for local heroes like Sun for sponsoring the Welcome America! event, which showcases our own phenomenal talents, and pays them decent bread for the gig. I think I'll close out my Mellon account and use the proceeds to fill my tank with Sun's gasoline.

City Hall Is Having a Sale!

Mayor Street, I think I can scrape together about $500 to donate to your campaign fund. What kind of deal can I get with that? Do you publish a price list?

We’ve Done Our Time in Hell

Yesterday, as I left work, I saw that the ground was wet. All over it was wet. It had not rained. The earth is sweating. The moisture is slowly being cooked out of the world.

I saw a woman burst into flames. Then, a dog. It's been happening more and more. These poor bastards don't even fight the fire as it consumes them. They are grateful that the release has come.

The less fortunate are the ones who are being slowly roasted. Our brains are cooking. We are unable to think rationally. We lose control of our bodily functions.

I saw a man shoot a little girl and steal her popsicle. He then shot himself when he realized that the popsicle did not help.

I saw a mailman playing in a puddle of his own urine, chanting the word "obviously." Over and over.

Slowly, Philadelphia is burning. The air is boiling. There is no oxygen. Soon, all this will be a cinder. Nothing will remain but ash. We try to fool ourselves with these little toys we are using to condition the air. These contrivances fail. They shudder and break. The circuitry melts.