Sickened by what sells

GEE, I was so moved by two articles, I had to write about what I see as the parallel universe here.

First there is Hunky Henry and disposable wives with low-cut dresses and lots of sex, because that’s what sells. [“Chiseled, Not Grizzled,” April 1] Can’t argue with that. Graphic violence and women stripped down (again) in gory zombie scenes. Can’t see how that could miss! What’s the only difference? Jonathan Rhys Meyers snobbishly stating, “You’re trying to sell a historical period drama to a country like the United States of America, you do not want a big, fat, 250-pound red-haired guy with a beard.” Sorry, dude. Anyone who’s lived or visited your country or the rest of Europe knows that you’ve got the market cornered on titillation, so don’t pretend you’re above it, while your pale white hand reaches out for that fat American check.

And Eli Roth [“These Plotlines Get Hacked to Bits,” April 1]? “It’s just so wrong and sick that it’s right.” Gleeful American sleaze served up with a dose of in-your-face honesty. Gosh, which approach is better?

My misanthropic search for that mystical desert island has just been escalated.

LAURIE ANNE MARIE

Los Angeles