TACO TUESDAY:...I Said, "No Parking, Ese"...Clown Blogger Jim Barton...Harlingen Mayor Rocks!!!...Total Dud Norman Esquivel.....Funny Face Eddie Garcia.....Obsolete Blogger El Jerry McHale...Bad Candidate Mauro Garza Is Missing...

 

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ

BROWNSVILLE, Texas |...The place was open for business. Very, very visible signs on the property told all vehicles stashed however-temporarily in its parking spots would be towed. And still they came. When the tow trucks arrived, owners of the loitering cars and trucks bitched to the high Heavens.

Welcome to Brownsville, Home of The Valley's Pussies.

Staff at Las Palmas Bakery was quickly targeted and cursed after management called tow trucks to rid themselves of the interlopers and opened spots for its customers. The bitching was loud and all over the Internet.

One called for a "boycott" of the popular bakery, citing expenses totaling $200 and $300 for motorists forced to pay for retrieval of their impounded vehicles. It was a weepy scene worthy of a massive, flooding effluent leak at the city's sewer treatment plant.

At the heart of the story was a football game at nearby Sams Stadium, where parking is said to be another Hispanic weakness here. Eager fans scurried about the neighborhood, some paying private homeowners to park their cars on their property. For a few non-taxable dollars, you see.

The crisis seemed to settle when people were told Las Palmas Bakery was not closed for business while the Brownsville Veterans Memorial High football team dispatched with the visiting Corpus Christi Miller High Buccaneers in excitable playoffs play.

Ah, Brownsville. Always the boring crybaby.

Suck it up, vatos locos!

And pay for your parking. Everybody elsewhere in the RGV pays. You want something free, go donate your body to science, the way Clown Blogger Jim Barton did when he handed over his wife Nenny's body to scalpel-equipped researchers back in April of 2018.

It cost him not a single penny to park her at the morgue...

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Clown Blogger Jim Barton, he of the large, fleshy Dairy Neck, did us a huge favor yesterday by alerting our readers to the arrival of this popular feature while he, presumably, sits for his daily Sitz bath. The ass is tough on 75-year-olds, yes. Push it out, Jimmy Boy. That avocado turd will slide right out.

Barton is this blog's only out-of-his-gourd enemy.

The unaccomplished House Husband on Wife Support (she works; he doesn't), keeps a steady eye on this blog, often submitting profanity-filled anonymous comments about my late mother and my hometown, the lovely City of Palms. Fatboy Barton labels McAllen as being "dusty."

Well, dusty he should know dust firsthand, living in that cheap-ass apartment that is probably rent-subsidized. He'd never say. Of course not. No college for this uneducated bloke. And maybe not even a high school diploma. We keep asking him and he turns his back on facts. No military service, either.

He does praise conscientious objectors at every turn, like at every veteran's holiday on the calendar.

But the mystery we want solved is the one related to his donation to science. No, not any $100 bill, but his late-wife Nenny's body. Barton turned it over without shedding a tear, we hear. Did it like taking the dog out in the county for a dump...and driving away without Fido.

Oh, he throws out the stuff about how it was Nenny's idea, only Nenny's not around to confirm or deny.

How convenient, eh Jimmy Boy? Man, you lucked out when death silenced her.

We say don't waste another second of your remaining time on The McAllen Sun. Man up and tell it like it is, brother. Too many people in town knew Nenny, and many of them do not believe that she would wish to go that way. A nice, choreographed traditional burial at the City Cemetery is what most envision for her. She was a doll of an employee at Model Cleaners, where customers raved about her.

Did you get any compliments while doing the Graveyard Shift at that cheap motel that paid you a minimum wage? Probably not, we'd say.

Clownish Barton wants desperately to be a credible "newsman," but he simply does not have the personal élan and the savoir-faire of a big leaguer. Photos of himself often show him popeyed and befuddled (see above). When he writes about politics, he comes across as a political primitive.

No formal education does that to a grown man,

But, hey, do keep promoting us, lad. You seem to have nothing better to do...

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The lady has a nice touch. We speak of Harlingen Mayor Norma Sepulveda, a public servant forever ready to praise and support city employees. If it's not the economic development team, it's the police or fire departments. Here, in the photo above, she dropped kind words for the City Parks Department, the dudes assigned the often-thankless duty of maintaining resident playgrounds.

Way to go, Mayor!

We enjoy seeing your visits to local downtown businesses. It is a move also favored by McAllen Mayor Javier Villalobos, but one not seen in Brownsville Mayor John Cowen - perhaps because Downtown Brownsville is dead.

Well, we're due for a trip to Brownsville, so we'll be reporting from the scene of a Rio Grande Valley area rarely praised elsewhere in the RGV. Perhaps we'll run into familiar faces.

In any case, paying due respect to city workers is always a winner.

Maybe that's why Harlingen's parks are so well-maintained and always in tip-top shape...

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We had been looking for a photo of Republican Constable Norman Esquivel and, lo and behold, we found one. That's Norman at right in photo above, walking the Border Wall for exercise.

You remember Esquivel. He was the one singled out by a Florida right-wing group for receipt of a $15,000 donation, or about that, mostly in high-powered weapons and combat gear. Esquivel saw the donation bounce on the floor at the Cameron County Commissioner's Court, when County Judge Eddie Trevino, a Democrat, slowed down the acceptance.

Well, Norman finally got the stuff.

But we've not heard a word from him since. Do constables not have be media-literate? Does this guy speak English? He appeared at county court to see the donation offered by Right-winger John Rourke, but he said nothing.

Oh, well. That's him in the photo above. Say hello to him if you see him in town.

We couldn't tell you if he has the social graces to reply...

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Eddie Garcia. Man, what a face! Is it a face? Guess so, but that's one helluva lot of flesh, dude. Looks a lot like Filipina ass, copper brown and with plenty of excitable folds.

Garcia is a former cop and current schoolboard trustee who wants to be the next tax assessor. Well, in the next election. He's dreaming, of course. A very experienced dude named Yzaguirre holds down that post and he's not giving it up just because Fast Eddie wants it.

No, Eddie Garcia can glo soak his face in Epsom Salts to reduce the fleshiness and then strike out for the campaign trail. Voters are not going for a cat with a face that looks like two tamales de masa side-by-side. Cheeky as all get-out, but wildly unattractive in campaign posters.

Politics is all about looks.

If we at The McAllen Sun can describe you in harsh terms, then you're not attractive enough.

We hate to say it, but Fat-jowls Eddie Garcia looks more like a downtown sidewalk-walking cop than a serious taxman...Yzaguirre in a landslide, but only because he's the however-also-weird-looking incumbent.

Finally on this ambitious dolt, it appears his meddling episode with that district food service worker is not over. Pro-Mexicans Blogger Juan Montoya posted an update this fine, fine Ayem, one in which the department director sets it down in writing. Her administrative version anyway. Waiting on Eddie Garcia's vato-take, yes.

We're only bothered by the fact that local Trump activist Susan Ruvalcaba was behind the jab at an investigation. That sucks the air out of the big, fat balloon, Monty...  

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Blogger Jerry "Fredo" McHale, the ever-bragging former Brownsville Herald sportswriter (one year, back in the late 1970s!) sucked as reporter of the biggest football game ever played in town. He was largely a no-show in the game reporting, availed himself of other writers' work and generally ceded any sort of ground he may have wished to claim.

The high school Chargers played the game of their young lives in whipping unbeaten Corpus Christi Miller at Sams Stadium last Friday, but conchudo McHale was taking the weekend off. That's him in the silly bowling shirt in photo above. Probably a birthday gift from his ex, La Claudia.

We admit to expecting some spectacular reporting on the game by Fredo McHale, if only because California Mac tells us he's the greatest local writer, tells us this every day. But maybe those days are gone, like long gone. He's aging fast, like a slice of avocado.

Lately, he dips into topics and issues of the day here as if dipping a day-old tortilla chip into older bean dip. Where was the writing he forever praises? The self-published novelist not interested in chronicling the city's Event-of-The-Year? Is he spent? McHale is now 74 years old, an old codger who'd probably rather sleep than create.

He does seem to be slowing down.

And it appears he has dropped fellow unaccomplished Clown Blogger Jim Barton (shown with wife Nenny at left). It's been weeks since doddering, visibly-elderly McHale included one of older Jimmy Boy's "reports" on his fading blog. We used to play their blogging game, but, man, we love to compete...and they don't.

McHale and Barton, especially, do not.

It is a Quilting Club relationship that they covet. "Here," Barton will say, "...I'll praise you and then you praise me, okay, Fredo?"

No, it's not okay.

Compete, MOFOS!

Be the club, as they say in pro golf.

Being comadres is for Old Fucks. Oh, okay...

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We humbly ask: Has anyone heard from Mauro "Moonpie" Garza? He is a Republican candidate for the party's 34th Congressional District nomination and, well, his camp must have turned out the lights and gone to bed. He's nowhere, saying nothing, being absent from the fray.

Mauro may know what we know: that Republican sweetheart Mayra Flores will take him down and win when the vote is counted in next March's party primary. Too bad. The Raymondville Flash broke fast a few months ago when he announced his campaign...and then fizzled, evaporated like a bead of perspiration on a hot, August day.

Put the pastry down, dude.

Say adios, Mauro. Say it loud, hambone.

There, he said it. Weakly, barely audible, but he said it.

If it sounded lame, well, that's just bucolic Mauro being bucolic Mauro...

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 Taco Tuesday out...

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