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What the Haters Missed

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I have lived here my entire life and have read the Reader since I was a tweeny goth looking for all-ages shows. Soon enough I started caring about more of Chicago's art, politics, underground scenes, important passersby, and desperate missed connections; the Reader has always been an invaluable resource. However, being a human being of limited time and budget, I could never get myself to all the events I wanted, even the free stuff. Antisocial was the first column that gave me the drunken lowdown, and it wasn't coming from a reporter--Liz was a friend, participant, and maybe nemesis to many folks involved in events that you might only get a glimpse of in a formal interview or review.

The hate mail I've read has bashed and named-called Liz for being so many things that she is and isn't: a simple party girl, a souless rich kid, most recently and worst--a whore. What they wouldn't see was that she always called her own bullshit, made some very personal and insightful statements (her article on abortion), unearthed some special gems (that possibly self-defeating shack-as-sustainable-art hidden on the abandoned train tracks), and at the very least, the girl's dry wit rivals Sarah Silverman for feline frost of the razor-sharp variety. All the haters writing in don't go to these shows and get drunk and dirty; they attend openings and marvel at their own outsiderness. They read the Reader to know about what goes on, but god forbid they get down to a shitty neighborhood to witness the birth of a movement before you can read about it in the New Yorker.

Liz and [photographer] Andrea Bauer made an effective team, and the people that are happy about its absence will probably just stay home tonight, tomorrow, and this weekend. That, I guess, is not a big loss.

Erik Roldan

Rogers Park

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