TACO TUESDAY:......Island Tacos...Capt. Bob & Nefertiti ...Comb Over Hasse...Ben's Other Office... Dairy Neck Barton...Photo Of The Year ...The Scribbler McHale...

 

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ

BROWNSVILLE, Texas |...This is the penultimate (next to last) Taco Tuesday of the year that was 2023, and we can say that it's been a roaring success from the outset. Although it has leaned heavily on Brownsville and Brownsville characters, plans have it that it will go valleywide in 2024.

There certainly are others in the region worthy of our attention.

And unlike the sedated bloggers of Browntown, The Sun will not fall back from its features. Once there was a Stormy Monday in town, but Blogger Dairy Neck Jim Barton quickly laid down on the job after one offering. Elderly Blogger Jerry McHale's wimpish, junior high version of Taco Tuesday died 'cause he could not keep it up, as happens when you turn 74 years old.

This Taco Tuesday will stay the course.

Herewith, then, is this week's episode... 

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...If the fast-fading Capt. Bob Sanchez can take a photograph with the purposeful Republican rat, Mayra Sanchez, then all bets are off this bugger of a political season. There he was, standing chingon with the Nefertiti of The Rio Grande, while seeming to say, "Uppa yo ass!" to all in town.

Miss Flores, age 38, is the favorite to win the party's primary next March and then set her crazed sights on Democrat incumbent Vicente Gonzalez in that 34th Congressional District Jell-o & Mud rasslin' PayPerView show.

Sanchez, a late-late blooming (nobody believes him) Republican, has about as much importance in South Texas politics as any other bald-headed eat, shave and shit dude. Will it matter for Mayra? Uh, no. She could pose with Pro-Mexicans Blogger Juan Montoya next and it would mean even less. The girl is hot in her own panties, boys. Let's not even think about saying, "Oh, I support seafood and Mayra Flores!"

The captain, who is a captain of nothing, loves taking photos with newsmakers. He's really a "Nobody" in winning politics, but, like the local bloggers, thinks he's Big Shit just cause he offers a podcast in which he seems to fakes a Mexican accent that sure sounds like impacted turds dying to come out of his ass.

Hey, Mayra, sweetheart, go take a photo with John Cowen, the mayor rumored to be a Republican.

He's half-bald, and that may mean something to the district's fickle voters.

Captain Bob is supposed to have spaced teeth that makes it easier to lie, is what a local blogger once told us. But, yeah, who knows. It just could be that the captain is merely one of those humans who sees pain and smiles, who sees death and laughs out loud.

A funny sort of guy and nothing more, yeah...

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Well, he lost his last election by 29,000 to a high school dropout. Charles "Tad" Hasse, shown with crazed comb-over in photo above, wanted a seat on the State Board of Education (SBOE), only incumbent Ruben Cortez stood in the way. Stood in the way!!! Shit, Ruben slammed the damned door in Hasse's aging face!

That was four years ago, and now the Libertarian/Democrat/Republican Hasse (his name means "Rabbit" in Germany) wants to be the Cameron County Republican Party's chair. His opponent in the party contest will be one Deborah Bell, a healthy-looking chick with all of her hair.

Hasse has known little success in politics, having taken it up the ass in several other elections for several other posts. His political resume, you may say, is one defeat after another, beatings that may have taken some salt off his skin the night of the results, but, like acne, he's still there into old age.

A Trumpian from early-on, Hasse can be a however-whiney loud cat.

In that last campaign, he was scolded down by then-GOP County Chair Morgan Graham for seeking the extermination of all Democrats in a speech upstate. Hasse sort of apologized, if dead silence is an apology.

But he has some support, at least from the wishy-washy, mollusk-like blogging community. Pro-Mexicans Blogger Juan Montoya, usually an anti-Trump dude, has posted a rather clean story about Tad's latest bid for office. Fellow Dairy Neck blogger Jim Barton also has gone slacker in covering Hasse's campaign. We expect Elderly-About-Town Blogger Jerry McHale to fall-in with the blogging faction and push Hasse to the starting line in a semi-positive way.

There really isn't much there in Hasse's political background to ballyhoo - he's done nothing!

Hasse's nickname of "Tad," he has written, is a contraction of his childhood nickname of "Tadpole," which is not good in the rough & tumble Political World.

Tadpole?

Uh, no...

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Five days before he died on December 12, Ben Neece posted the photo you see above on his Facebook page and let friends know the scene would be his "office" on that particular Thursday evening.

I can't tell you the name of venue, but suffice it to say that it likely was downtown - Ben's backyard throughout most of his adult life. They say he could hear just about every musical note ever played in that part of town.

Neece died at age 68 while at a local gym.

He will be buried at 1:00 p.m. this Saturday over at Buena Vista Cemetery on McDavitt Road. The Heart of The Weekend is a most appropriate time for Ben's last goodbye to a city he loved. a funeral ceremony is the correct send-off for every human being, although we do know others see many options to the traditional memorials and graveside service.

Ben Neece at a cemetery evokes imagery of Ben playing his music for someone else's passing.

In this case, we are pretty sure his family and his many, many friends will be there to observe the interment and to remember a song or two they recall hearing over the years from Neece and Neece's musical band.

It is definitely a goodbye.

But Ben had a way of sticking around at his downtown club after being on stage or seeing other musicians on stage.

No doubt, he'll stay in the memories of a good amount of people, here and wherever else he went and made friends...

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He still will not answer. Dairy Neck Blogger Jim Barton, the 76-year-old news reporter wannabe, guards his reasons for not serving in the U.S. military back when he was definitely of draft-age during the Vietnam Conflict.

And he will not say how far he got in school. High school, we mean, as he did not go to college.

We chase his butt down every week on this because Barton sees himself as some journalism cop who can go after public servants and politicians, many of them military veterans who do not need this clown chasing them down as if he's somebody.

Barton is a Societal Nobody.

His employment resume is thin, thinner than that of a hard-working illegal alien washing dishes at a local eatery or a maid working all sectors of the community. Barton's jobs were of the hourly, minimum wage variety - at grocery stores, motels and on the shrimp boat docks at the Port of Brownsville.

We've asked, but he will not say where else he has worked, when up in North Texas or in incest-happy Arkansas with his late-wife Nenny.

Should we care about this guy's unaccomplished past? Sometimes, we tell ourselves that no, we should not. he's free to "act" out any part he wishes in this home of the brave and land of the free - even if he never has paid his debt to freedoms he enjoys.

And this week, we're not even going deep into that Great Story that is his donation of his dead wife's body to science in April of 2019. I mean, who does that? In the Rio Grande Valley, we mean.

Little Hands Barton (he ragged Republican hellion Donald Trump about his small hands, btw) did it, and he's okay with it.

Perhaps someday he'll open-up, let loose serious stuff he keeps well-closeted for reasons that may affect his standing in town. Until he does, those of us with our questions will keep them handy and waiting on an opening, perhaps on some emotion Barton lets go when his insecurities rise as if weeds against a lawnmower...

Old cat Barton, who plays at being a real member of the press, should know that the press is accountable, too...

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Our PHOTO OF THE YEAR. Donald Trump being booed and saluted with the middle finger at an Iowa Hawkeyes football game this Fall. The photo, one of several showing fans shooting Trump the finger, was widely-circulated in new stories and social media. 

The imagery is priceless.

There is, we say, nothing like the American middle finger salute. Its message is immediate and unmistakable. You suck! Fuck off! Sit on this, Mofo! It's a very visible diss absolutely. You shoot someone the finger and you're telling them you hate their ass. One more stare and it's Fight City!!!

In Brownsville, the middle finger is as popular as the two-tortilla taco.

You get a bad waiter at a good taqueria and down goes the taco and the waiter. Trump felt it, we're sure. He felt the hate he engenders in Good Americans. They would rather kick his face in than see him as any sort of political star.

In fact, we're sure Trump's face is atop the list of fucktards people in this country want to fuck up...

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He likes to think of himself as some accomplished writer, but Elderly Blogger Jerry McHale is nothing of the sort. He's a retired ESL teacher with a laptop and nothing more. What's he written that's anywhere near memorable? Not a damn thing, says the stadium crowd.

There is no signature sentence. No creative language. No unique plotting. No character worth remembering. No paragraph of note. No self-published book worth a quarter.

But the 74-year-old McHale does hold hard to his Irish penchant for attacks and insults. Once he had a very good friend by the name of Tony Zavaleta. Today, he doesn't. Not after that Welding Recital disaster McHale offered this past summer that had Tony Z fuming.

Once he could sit down for a few chelas with pro-Mexicans Blogger Juan Montoya. Today, he can't. Not after calling Juan the third-best blog writer in Brownsville. Behind him and non-college Dairy Neck Jim Barton!!!

Once, he had local attorney and former municipal court judge Ben Neece as the one always at his side. Not anymore. Ben died last week and McHale cried his woe-is-me poetry on his nursing home blog. No, Maria, let's once and for all dispense of any notion saying this guy is a writer.

He's not, not of Real Journalism and certainly not of sentient fiction.

McHale turned out to be the city's loudest wannabe - that's all...

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TACO TUESDAY out...

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MEIN DRUMPH:...Caught In A Trap, Donald Trump Raises Ante On Racism...Immigrants "Poisoning" His Blood...

 

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ

RENO, Nevada |...He came and said it aloud here again over the weekend. Blood from Africa and south of the border keeps coming here and "poisoning our blood." Donald J. Trump, the oft-indicted Republican candidate for president, loves to quote Nazi Adolf Hitler and a passel of other dictators.

He conveniently forgets how long the United States has been an immigrant country. He ignores the fact that a bit more than 10% of our population lists itself as of mixed-blood ancestry, a number experts say would grow dramatically if genetic testing would ever be considered and done.

But it's nothing new with him.

Trump, whose real last name is Drumph, a loser name his German-immigrant father dropped after coming to this country, has been at it for the entirety of his adult life. How long did he rag former President Barack Obama about that birth certificate Trump said would show Obama had been born in Africa and was not eligible for the presidency.

How long did he crow about the so-called Central Park 5 after five African-Americans were (as it turned out) wrongly arrested and jailed in connection with the rape of a white woman out on an evening jog. Trump bought full-page Ads in the New York Times ahead of their trial, seeking the Death Penalty.

No, his racism is not anything new, although, funny as it may seem, two of his three wives have been immigrants.

So, no, it was no surprise on Saturday when he again continued with his bigoted ways at a rally here.

This from NBCnews.com: [ Trump said immigrants coming to the U.S. are "poisoning the blood of our country," a remark on Saturday that quickly drew a rebuke from his chief Democratic rival as President Joe Biden’s campaign likened the words to those of Adolf Hitler.

"They let - I think the real number is 15, 16 million people into our country. When they do that, we got a lot of work to do. They’re poisoning the blood of our country," Trump also told the crowd at a rally in New Hampshire. "That’s what they’ve done. They poison mental institutions and prisons all over the world, not just in South America, not just to three or four countries that we think about, but all over the world. They’re coming into our country from Africa, from Asia, all over the world."

Trump then repeated the use of "poisoning" in a post on his social media website Truth Social, saying overnight in an all-caps post, that "illegal immigration is poisoning the blood of our nation. They’re coming from prisons, from mental institutions - from all over the world."

The term "blood poisoning" was used by Hitler in his manifesto "Mein Kampf (My Struggle)," in which he criticized immigration and the mixing of races. "All great cultures of the past perished only because the originally creative race died out from blood poisoning," Hitler wrote. ]

That "originally creative race" is funny, but, then, Hitler seems to have had little knowledge of where the Human DNA originated: Africa.

The Doomsday racial terminology seems to be working with a certain segment of our population, the so-called Republican Base.

As could be expected, a number of high-profile Americans fired back at the Mar-a-Lago Marvel, with The White House leading the way. Republican Chris Christie, a second-tier candidate for president in the current campaign, labeled it "disgusting."

Trump kept at it. He quoted Russian dictator Vladimir Putin who'd said "rottenness" in the American Democracy would be the end of this country. It gets to where if a dictator said something about the U.S., Trump is going to use it against the U.S.

He's fighting 91 felony counts in court, a fraud trial in New York that could be the end of his quirky real estate business empire, election games in Georgia and a federal indictment related to his taking classified documents when he departed the White House in early 2021.

What else is he supposed to do but inflame the country's racist emotions?

Trump has reached the point that he can realistically be considered hysterically paranoid...it's just too bad that we still have to count him as an American...

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REQUIEM:...In Town, One Last Conversation And "Solid" Electric Guitar Chord With Ben Neece...

 

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ

BROWNSVILLE, Texas |...This is a bit late, but only because we'd waited a few days to see what the local bloggers, always the chime-in types, would write about their good friend, Ben Neece, who passed away last week.

Sadly, we saw nothing of note.

They all mentioned his death at the gym and have since followed up with word of his memorial mass and day & time of internment. Pretty cold stuff, yes.

We expected a fitting New Yorker-worthy profile, at least from his old running mate Elderly-About-Town Blogger Jerry McHale, but nothing came. Jerry waxed poetic about Ben's untimely death being a "blow" and all that, but he went nowhere else with a write-up going to an old friendship.

Blogger Juan Montoya, recipient of Ben's kindness when finding himself before Municipal Court, only posted news of the death and, later, that aforementioned notice of burial. Montoya knew Ben seemingly forever, but, no, Juan, didn't get inspired to write something fitting.

Third blogger Jimmy Boy Barton took a backdoor, remembering Ben's downtown club, The Crescent Moon, in what could have been a good anecdote to a longer, in-depth piece about Ben's life in town. It was a noisy, busy, all-out living life of the sort few in Brownsville live.

Barton, not a college graduate and with zero Journalism experience, could be excused for not attempting a more-suitable remembrance of his friend, the one Dairy Neck Barton always referred to lately as the "officiant" of his wedding to the Filipina, The New American.

I didn't know Ben as well as this local trio did. My interaction with him dealt with his politics, that weird abduction in Togo, Africa, his decision to move downtown to seek a seat on the Brownsville City Commission, his campaign, his victory, his time in office, his departure from that role.

In between, Ben lived the musician's life, one that had him spearheading a drive to bring more action to dying Downtown Brownsville. Who can forget Ben's stab at bringing the Big City "Pub Crawls" to town, his pushing of local musicians to perform at his club and others.

Sitar? Ben played it. Irish Kilt? Ben wore it. Chasing eclipses in the Carolinas? Ben did it. Traipsing in the Chiapas outs? Ben was there. There was also life away from the ever-explorer in him. Early-on in his campaign for the city commission, word was leaked that Ben had once been stabbed by his wife when they lived over on Sally Lane, before his move to that downtown loft.

We theorized at the time that the info had been leaked by his opponent, then-City Commissioner John Villarreal, who made no bones about the "fact" that Ben did not actually live downtown and, thus, was ineligible to run for the post.

But Ben prevailed, even as we criticized him often, enough that his sons began contacting us about the fairness issue. We did take some fun while poking at Ben's many, many, many beer pachangas while his happy-as-punch campaign rolled on to Election Night.

And he served the downtown district well, although it is a tough one to advance as the old, attractively-decaying joints wear their age for the magazine photographers - falling buildings in need of repair, abandoned businesses from an earlier era, newcomers that come and go within months. Ben stayed on top of the mess, but his fight to enliven or, really, rejuvenate a Dead Downtown the task of David against Goliath.

As a city, Brownsville adores its history, and old buildings are history around here. You don't just knock down an old theater just because its roof caved-in, as happened. Change is a fighting word to many of the town's Old Guard. But Ben did force a vote on the city commission for security cameras for the downtown district...and he won that fight.

No one questions his desire to be a busy public servant. Ben insisted on looking into things, and some he managed to improve. His politics were middle-of-the-road, we would say. He backed then-Mayor Juan "Trey" Mendez perhaps a bit too much, but his approach was always one that saw the end game, a completed conversation on some issue before the commission.

It didn't always go smoothly.

A gent named Graham Sevier came out of the bicycle-repair and pizza business in late 2020 to get himself a seat on the city-backed Greater Brownsville Incentives Corporation (BCIC) charged with attracting new business to Brownsville. As happened, Sevier was a partner in Mayor's Mendez's pizza enterprise downtown, Dodici's.

When I telephoned Ben to ask about Sevier after we heard Ben had nominated him for the position, Ben said, "I might have (nominated him). You'll have to go to the meeting's minutes."

Sevier would go on to make a name for himself for what he one day said about the Texas governor, which was, "Fuck You, Abbott!" The anger had some connection to the task he had with the city entity. It wasn't long after that that Sevier resigned his position.

Ben nominating Sevier likely had all to do with his friendship with the mayor.

Politics is funny that way. It'll make good, thoughtful men do strange things that later can rarely be explained adequately. Not that Ben ever explained Sevier, but it was one of those things in his public service that actually ensnared him.

Was Ben Neece a politician? Is that his legacy, the portrait he leaves behind?

Of course not. Ben was one of those individuals who is born to action, for himself (his music, that love of rock 'n roll) and for his community (the municipal court judgeship, his time on the city commission).

I do suspect that there are personas like Ben in every town, those residents who hear more than the topical noise, the rumors and bad news. With him, it was as if he did hear all that, but somehow made his way along both the busy and lonely streets of Brownsville.

He deserves better write-ups than the minimal efforts he got from his local friends.

We only wish we could add more, and we say that because we know Ben lived a full life. There was a certain quietness about him. And there also was a distinct desire to fight for freedom and fairness.

When last we spoke in October, it was a chat about the mess Bloggers McHale and Barton had created about some loose-kneed controversy over at the Texas Southmost College welding program.

Ben was somewhat aware, he told us.

We asked for his thoughts about McHale's decision to burn his bridges with age-old pal Tony Zavaleta, the affable TSC Trustee.

Ben told me he'd talked to Jerry and that Jerry had said he'd lay-off Tony but not TSC. He wasn't all that concerned, he went on. I chalked it up to Ben perhaps knowing all-too-well of Blogger McHale's teen-like petulance.  

Endings in Blog postings often simply tail off, as the story always continues.

Here, we'll unapologetically draw on a cliche, yes, but one that fits the moment -

Godspeed, Ben Neece...

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SUN RECORDS:...Newsroom Jukebox..."Driving Home For Christmas"...

PLAYOFFS:...Smithson Valley, Easy Conqueror of Brownsville Veterans Memorial High Last Week, Mauled By Tough Aledo Bearcats In Title Game, 51-8...

 

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ

ARLINGTON, Texas |...A listless three-and-out the first time they had the ball. An early safety gave opponents a 2-0 lead. Two field goals later made it 8-0, and the crowd grumbling could already be heard here at AT&T Stadium.

Then the real game began.

And before the final gun sounded, it was 51-8. The Aledo Bearcats had their 12th state championship deep in their pockets, Smithson Valley busing home shell-shocked and beaten.

This was the same Smithson Valley High team that had humbled the Brownsville Veterans Memorial High Chargers a week earlier, taking a 49-0 lead into the last quarter before winning 49-21.

Title games usually are closer affairs. This had such a start, but strong, undefeated teams always get their game plan rocking and Aledo was no different. It is a school used to winning, and, come Hell or High water, it won.

Tough defense and long runs showed-up, as they say in pro football.

Next year may be a bit different for Aledo.

It graduates 30 players after this season, but the school will remain in 5A, Division 1 in 2024 - a backyard it has dominated seemingly forever...

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SUN BEAMS:..."The Old Lonesome"...

 

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ

BERNALILLO, New Mexico |...There had to be an eleven-volume instruction book hidden somewhere, was his feeling. Yeah, maybe it was buried deep alongside a pyramid over in Egypt, that book that would have spelled-out the best manner of living.

Patrick was just thinking as his truck rolled up the road, bound for nowhere, as Kenny Rogers might have said.

Still, he also knew he'd tried a variety of ways to go from one day to the next, from one year to the other. That road, he'd have said, had thrown a load of obstacles his way, some he had navigated neatly, others he'd made a bigger mess out of, like most single men.

So, yeah, perhaps there was a book out there. He, of course, loved his New Mexico skies, those that came in all gold and red and blue.

You could enjoy life much, much more, he was saying to himself, smiling as he thought about it, if you'd concentrate on the planet and not solely the people. People would let you down sooner or later; the planet would, for the most part, always be there for you, dredging and pollution aside.

He was sure all who knew him understood why he said and did what he said and did, at least he chose to think so.

There had been no radio out this way, towns being several hundred of miles apart. Patrick had, as happens, tired of his CDs. That, he went on, may be the story of my life.

He reached for his CD pouch and pulled one out with one hand while holding on to the steering wheel with the other one. Familiar stuff. Rolling Stones and their ya-yas, or something like that.

Patrick laughed aloud. You could even almost feel the scratchings on the damned thing...

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MORNING JOE WITH THE MAYOR:...Brownsville's John Cowen Sips A Cup With A Handful Of Interested Locals At Luby's...

 

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ

BROWNSVILLE, Texas |...He's taken a page out of Harlingen Mayor Norma Sepulveda's "Coffee With The Mayor," and we would bitch at him for being a copycat but must concede that Mayor John Cowen is at last finally doing something he's neglected.

Hanging with the community is not his strength.

Cowen, shown in photo above at the microphone during his session with locals at Luby's Cafeteria (Sunrise Mall), is something of a friend of Miss Sepulveda, who began her "Coffee With The Mayor" offerings soon after being elected earlier this year.

This from the City of Brownsville's official website: [ Brownsville Mayor John Cowen Jr. held his inaugural Coffee with the Mayor where he provided community members with the chance to engage in an informal conversation with him. 

Dozens of community members attended. 

"I think it’s important to be able to connect with the community and be able to have to have those face-to-face conversations. I know some people are commenting that elected officials sometimes aren’t there to answer their questions and I want to have that face-to-face approach," first-term Mayor Cowen said. 

Cowen discussed several topics at the event such as SpaceX, Rio Grande LNG, economic growth in the City of Brownsville, industrial development, and the revitalization of downtown Brownsville. 

Cowen told the audience that 85% of the individuals employed by SpaceX are Brownsville residents which is an example of the talent that can be found in the community.  

The mayor said Rio Grande LNG is expected to provide between 350 to 400 long-term jobs with salaries at about $70,000. 

Cowen also spoke about some of the projects the city is working on including road improvements, the Lit-Fiber BTX, and the expansion of the Gladys Porter Zoo. 

"Our zoo is one of our most valuable assets that makes us really special in Brownsville. It’s the biggest tourism driver South of Corpus Christi. Over half a million people come and visit us here every year," Cowen said. 

The mayor said he was pleased by the large turnout (Editor's note: "Dozens" not quite fully visible in the photo, however, so...) and to address the questions posed by the community members. "Part of my vision for this office is to be more approachable and to have that direct face-to-face relationship with the community," Cowen said.  

Cowen plans to hold Coffee with the Mayor events quarterly throughout the city’s four districts. ]

It's long been suggested here that the new mayor do something like this. We believe the coffee session took place this morning. The COB website dated its post today, Dec. 14th.

Not exactly an outgoing, extroverted dude, Cowen seems more the reserved sort of public servant. His fellow mayors in Harlingen and McAllen are outgoing personalities out & about in their communities, visible in all sorts of settings.

Perhaps Cowen is now working on it...

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SUN AWARDS:...Republican Punk Kevin McCarthy is 2023 "Asshole Of The Year"...

 

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ

McALLEN, Texas |...He's reportedly on hold for a cushy cabinet post in the next Donald J. Trump presidency. Yeah. Him in the photo above - former House Speaker Kevin McCarthy. He's resigned his seat in Congress effective the end of this month, but he's canoodling, seeking and wanting a spot in The White House.

What a major league suck-ass.

For that alone, and he has a load of other personal and political warts, McCarthy is The Sun's "Asshole Of The Year".

The 58-year-old Republican resigned his lofty House seat after being ousted by his fellow "Screw America" Republicans late this year. Far right Republicans thought he was being too much of a, well, "kiss ass" in dealing with House Democrats.

Kevin left the post like an old, spent washerwoman, slinking away quietly at first and then, perhaps after a few shots of whiskey, he roared at those Republicans who'd voted him out of the job.

"I'll still be in national politics," he told reporters. "Look for me like you always do..."

McCarthy isn't going the way of former Speakers by latching onto a cushy lobbyist job. He wants in on the Trump Dictatorship, and the scuttlebutt moving about his feet says he wants to be Secretary of State for the oft-indicted Mar-a-Lago Cheeto.

We could go on with serious, insulting knocks against this Bozo, but just know that the one-time owner of several yogurt shops in his hometown of Bakersfield, California isn't even liked back home.

Kevin McCarthy is "Asshole Of The Year"...

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SUN BEAMS:..."In The Outs Of Texas, A Silent Night"...

 

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ

ALPINE, Texas |...You could crash on a hard, concrete floor at an ancient rural bus station and find needed rest. Same for an unkempt roadside park along some interstate of the sort that is busy and noisy at three in the morning.

His worst place for sleep had been a dingy, all-night laundromat in one of those dusty, West Texas towns with the sort of name that just fits the harsh geography, like tiny Marathon, or smaller Pecos.

The weird thing there was that, yes, he'd been surprised to find a half-dozen homeless dudes sprawled out like unwanted French fries on the floor between the washers and the dryers. There was some irony there, was his feeling, one of those so close, yet so far away ironies for the ragged and scraggly haired men who no doubt needed a bath and a haircut.

Silence, however, also was part of that scene.

Grown, aging men tucked inbetween utilitarian machinery, few of the ever-rusting washers perhaps making them feel a bit more at home.

Up the quiet road, he drove past an old barn in much better shape, and he noticed someone had strung a rather large holiday wreath there between the large sliding doors. It was out in the open, facing the elements, but it looked as clean as anything he'd ever seen out this way.

For a brief moment, he thought that maybe he should have offered a few of the homeless winos a ride out of there. Perhaps seeing and smelling cleanliness would spark them to clean up, to feel the quiet and imagine a laundered set of clothes and a pretty gal clipping their mangy manes at a hair salon in town.

He was reaching for the radio dial on his pickup's dashboard, but then pulled his hand back. The silence of the night was music yet to be published...

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TACO TUESDAY:...Hopelessly Awful Blogger Disses Ex-Wife Nenny...We Bank On Mayra!!! ...Death At County Jail...Cascos As Elder Statesman...Roisterer Ben Neece Dead...

 

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ

BROWNSVILLE, Texas |...So, okay, how do you judge True Love? Is it serious dating that leads to marriage? Ten years of marriage leading to 30 or to 50? Or is it just who the Hell is with you at the moment you turn 75 with a new love and have long-since forgotten the first wife - the one whose dead body you handed over to science?

Ask Blogger Jim Barton.

He's there in that scene we describe to begin this post. (Dairy Neck Jim is shown in photo above with first wife, Nenny, who died April 9, 2018)

Anniversaries are quirky things, but humans like them. There is one for first kiss, first sex, first child, first year of marriage, the 25th and the Golden Anniversary of 50 years, the one Jimmy Boy celebrated with Nenny, or almost did.

Well, who really, other than Jimmy Boy, knows about the Barton marriage? He only talks about his latest one, to the Filipina Ana, The New American.

This is what he wrote about the Manila Mama yesterday, when noting some absence from each other, as she works somewhere in Nevada, and he ages in Brownsville, since he does not work: "The 4+ years with Ana have easily been the happiest of my life despite our dissimilar personalities."

So much for you, Nenny!

Those 50 years? Huh? What 50 years?

You have to hand it to unaccomplished, uneducated Barton. He spent his working life doing hourly, minimum-wage jobs here, in North Texas and in Arkansas. He won't say much about his jobs, but who can blame him when all he has is prolonged grocery store work, motel clerking and that unloading of shrimp boats at the Port of Brownsville.

Pobre guy. He won't even say if he graduated from high school! He never went to or graduated from college; his adult life spent largely dependent on Nenny Barton's jobs. She was a veteran; Jimmy Boy never served. There has to be a story there, but when we've asked Jimmy Boy why he never served his country, he clams up.

Oh, he's a huge fan of conscientious objectors, those American boys who told the Draft Board they could not fight because it was against their religion and against their desire to keep living. Yeah. Is that why his family moved from Washington in the far northwest to lowly Brownsville by the Mexican border?

Barton's not talking. We've asked. And we'll go on a low limb and say he'll never talk, because it is likely something he is now ashamed of, as are all who went the conscientious objector route to stay out of Vietnam.

Tell it, Jimmy Boy.

Nenny knew the whole story, we're sure. Tell it, Jimmy Boy.

So that Sweet Ana can sleep better...

-0-

WELL, YEAH, we can say it: We at The McAllen Sun like reputed hothead Mayra Flores. She's an eye-gouging mud-wrestler and a get-the-fuck-outta-my-way trailblazer all rolled into one. To see her in Congress, up in pretty-much, all-White Washington, D.C. politics, would be nice.

Nothing against most White people, but the Hispanic representation of my people in Congress is pathetic. Six Hispanics are in the 50-member U.S. Senate? Ted Cruz of Texas is half-Cuban, but he'll never say it. Marco Rubio of Florida is all-Cuban. The others are indicted Robert Menendez of New Jersey, Catherine Cortez Masto of Nevada, Ben Ray Lujan of New Mexico and Alex Padilla of California.

Of the 435 members of the House of Representatives, only 52 are Hispanics. That's roughly 11% of the membership. Hispanics account for 19.1% of the population in the U.S. today. I do believe our population merits more than 52 representatives. Thirty more would be about right, percentagewise.

Mayra Flores wouldn't really add to it, as she will go against Hispanic Congressman Vicente Gonzalez in 2024, and, well, one or the other will win, so...

But it's good to throw that out every so often, especially in today's Texas, where Whites are now the "minority" population.

Let's go, Mayra.

Give'em Hell!...

-0-

 

No, that's not the latest Cameron County Sheriff candidate in the law enforcement mood photo above. True that all it takes these days is a cowboy hat and a less-than-Hollywood-worthy face to run for the post, but who knows who that lonesome alcoholic in the photo is, or may be?

One thing we'll say is that incumbent Sheriff Eric Garza isn't getting out enough as he seeks reelection next year. Already, a pack of hungry lone wolves have up an announced they plan to challenge Sheriff Eric. They have hats and even mustaches, so...

Garza has been whipped mercilessly by local pro-Mexicans Blogger Juan Montoya for the past three years. Shutdown Corner Juan can keep doing it for the next one, too.

Sheriff Eric acting as if some gentleman aesthete won't cut it. He's being chased by circumambient wannabes, fer chrissakes...

The race is being contested primarily in Open Bar Brownsville.

That costumed cowboy look worn by Eric needs to get around and be seen. Shit, longshot candidate Ronnie Saenz is practically the local Ringo Starr now. Stat quality, baby. That's what you need to plug into to make headway in a multi-candidate race.

Political primitive Jesus Rosas Jr?

He's started to think he has a real shot at winning! There is no penumbra of doubt in his walk.

Plus, Rosas is from that peculiar Brownsville species known as the political peddlers. He could win big standing under the international bridge here on the Mexican side asking for votes, not coins...

-0-

There was another death at the Cameron County jail recently. We're not going to bother you with names or accusations, but it had something to do with drug use. Fentanyl, to be exact.

Or that's what the sheriff's office told the community.

Who knows what an independent autopsy would yield? We're always troubled by these cold and mineral administrative rulings on deaths behind bars. She was a young woman, mother of two very young kids. Somewhat attractive in the photo posted by law-badgering Blogger Juan Montoya. There also was a soulful comment from her mother, who for some reason believed her daughter would be safer behind bars.

Too bad.

Life is for the living. Bodies in jail never make for a good story. Yes, you kinda want one in this case, perhaps because most people feel a little more for the attractive than for the unattractive. Still, it'll be a statistic in the sheriff's office annual ledger...and nothing more.

There was no mention of a Dad for the kids.

Montoya took the easy palliative angle to the sad tale. That's to be expected.

Bloggers aren't there to offer lasting solutions, are they? Not here.

Not in Brownsville, Texas, Cradle of The Two-Tortilla Taco...

-0-

This auburn-haired one didn't give a rat's ass about tacos. Pasta, Baby. Sucking on that long, long noodle. Taco Tuesday could go to Hell, she was telling the waiter, a lanky Mexican with a high neck and three days of beard growth.

"Are you Italian?" she was asked by another customer of the cafe.

"Why would you ask that?" she posed in return.

"Your hairy armpits," the Mexican told her, pointing.

It was Tuesday, only it could have been Wednesday or Thursday or Friday. People were eating all across town, in taquerias and burger joints ands steak restaurants and pizzerias.

"Do you want these pepperonis you've set aside on your box or can I retrieve them for the trash as well?" the waiter went on.

"Bag them for me," she said, tersely. "I'm taking them home."

That was something, she wanted to say, you never heard at a taco joint. Tacos were to be scarfed down fast & furious, not a one left on the plate at snack or dinner's end.

That was the freakin' culinary beauty of tacos, the controversial anthropologist Margaret Mead might've said.

Margaret was the one who first noted the similarities in appearance between the taco and a woman's privates - God's choicest morsel...

-0-

He's walked into the role of Elder Statesman. We speak of Carlos Cascos, the former Cameron County Judge and ex-Texas Secretary of State. How visible he may be in Brownsville, well, we couldn't tell you.

We normally catch up with him on his busy Facebook page, where he tends to bring to light timely news and info of the day. We do chime-in from time to time. It's mostly a collection of his fans and well-wishers who show up to applaud his postings, rarely anything heady from any of them.

We're being factual, not mean.

Mr. Cascos tends to be the proverbial middle-of-the-roader these days. He's a Republican, but not necessarily a Trump MAGA Republican. Why he just doesn't hop back to his old Democrat Party is my mystery. I'd venture to say that Mr. Cascos is likely repulsed by Donald J. Trump and his ways. Just a guess there, but we're good at reading people after almost 30 years of doing it as a reporter.

Perhaps a bit of courting and a very damned public round of apologies from starchy Gilberto Hinojosa and the anachronistic Rio Grande Valley Democratic Party would help, although...

Well, sometimes you go down the road far enough and you just can't come back.

A statesman is allowed backward glances. His thoughts on the future of his party, Texas and the country would be welcomed, as well. I could tell you a story or two about his days as Secretary of State, but we were off-the-record in that lengthy conversation here not that long ago.

Maybe when the political winds are blowing just right...

-0-

Friends and editors I have worked with know where I've been in Real Journalism. Fools who don't know me or believe this blog is all I am generally call me a "faker" or a bully or worse. One of those is Brownsville Blogger Jim Barton.

He's a layman, is what I would say. In news, I mean.

Barton has never worked in a newsroom, not even in a small one like that of The Brownsville Herald. I have done the daily job for The Associated Press in Denver, The Houston Post, The Boston Globe and The New York Post - all major, highly-competitive newsrooms serving a large number of readers in major markets.

Unaccomplished Barton likes to write I was there only "for a cup of coffee," meaning a short time, I take it. I guess almost 30 years of news reporting is a cup of coffee these days.

Nonsense. But what's he going to say to me when he has NOT ONE published article, no college degree, no degree in Journalism and no work with any professional editor? I feel sorry for the old guy, actually, but he's a hard-headed dude, so I occasionally do stomp on his ego.

I am a U.S. Navy veteran (Corpsman/Medic) and have a degree in Journalism - a requisite, by the way, when seeking jobs with major publications. Barton did not serve even though he was of draft age during the Vietnam Conflict. He has said his family moved to Brownsville from Washington state at about that time. That's a rare cross-country move, but he refuses to answer our questions about why. He does write about conscientious objectors from time to time, like when others are writing about or celebrating Memorial and Veterans Day.

This week, he posted a photo that included me and disgraced Republican Congressman George Santos, with lying Barton (shown bathing alfresco in photo at right) including text about "fakers" and alerting readers to such people.

I say fatso Jimmy Boy was only projecting.

He looks more like chubby George Santos than I do and, of course, we all know about Jim's fakery as a newsman in town. He even wore a homemade PRESS badge to a few pachangas during the last election.

Once, he wrote about being a "direct descendant" of American Red Cross founder Clara Barton. We looked into it and found out Clara never married and never had children, shacking up with some dude her entire adult life.

Barton next deleted the claim.

He's 75 years old, almost 76, and he's obviously not happy with the way he lived his life, one that had him employed by grocery stores, motels and shrimp boat unloading outfits at the Port of Brownsville. His insecurities include this: Barton lists himself as a "professional" on his Linkedin page.

Under a heading on the page where he was asked to list his interests, Barton posted a thumbnail photo of Kroger's logo.

Kroger's is a major grocery store upstate.

I've stopped visiting his blog for a variety of reasons. I know his usual lies about me. He's no writer in my book, and he has no concept of what makes for a good, useful news story. Barton simply does not know how to convey the elements, the basic 5Ws - the Who, What, Where, When & Why.

Not having any experience working with an editor hurts him, as it hurts his blogging pal, Jerry McHale. But McHale is just "goofin" at this point in is 74-year-old life.

Uneducated Barton actually thinks he's a writer and a newsman.

I hate to be the one to say it, but all he is...is a clown, a clown with a Blog...

-0-

Reports tell us local Bon Vivant Ben Neece has died. At the gym, according to a posting on Pro-Mexicans Blogger Juan Montoya's blog. It's a sad, three-beer day in Browntown.

Neece apparently was working out at a local gym when a heart attack ended his life. A troubadour to the very meaning of the word, Neece tasted a bit of everything, goes the line on him from Downtown antros.

A skilled musician, legal mind and politician, Neece lived out loud before out loud was "in".

That one episode in which he was kidnapped in Africa serves as one of many scripted climaxes his adventurer's life delivered on his ass. Neece was not above or below any of it. He traveled across Europe and deep into Mexico to get his natural mortal highs and lows. Eclipses thrilled him like Big Ones thrill most hetero men in local topless bars.

Once, he sat through a female fistfight at a local bar. 

We would say that he will be missed, but little ever is missed in hard-edged Brownsville.

Bang the drum slowly...    

-0-

TACO TUESDAY out...

-30-

SUN BEAMS:..."Never Mind The Pain"...

 

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ

RIO GRANDE CITY, Texas |...Well, there had been a load of good times, a beautiful evening here and there. He knew that and could still bring back images from the best moments of their relationship.

Ranch hand Joe Ramirez had bought her a rather expensive ring on holiday sale at the fancy shopping mall jewelry store right before Christmas that one year. She'd expressed the usual initial shock, followed by the open-mouth joy one imagines is the pleasure in such gift-giving.

He'd worked on her car a few times. That yard kept its pretty face thanks to his mowing and landscaping. The flower bed had matured as if to beautify and nothing else. He'd done that and so much more without pay or complaint for her, 'cause, if it had been all about him, well, none of that would have been part of his life. But a confident, grounded man does usually that and more for a woman he likes.

For one he loves, he'll do the spectacular.

Joe was running that full-across his brain as the dusty dirt road ahead began to curve northward onto the two-lane highway that headed up to the ranch. Someday, he'd come back to ask about her.

Not anytime soon, he told himself. Work on the ranch is seasonal and uncompromising. Time would tell.

A break-up, if it has any shot at make-up, must suffer itself out...

-30-

[EDITOR'S NOTE:...This one drags longer in its original version. Part of the short story collection...]

SUN RECORDS:...Newsroom Jukebox..."Getting Ready For Christmas Day"...

SUN BEAMS:..."Third Tourist From The Left"...

 

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ

SAN BENITO, Texas |...Nightfall crawled heavy in dark-black, half-colored by the day's grief and hassles, finished off with the angered brush strokes of black & blue pain. Few in town drifted out after dark feeling good about doing it. The damned job was a drag, paid peanuts and the boss was always hitting on the gals, went the line from one end of town to the other.

You could cut the air with a fingernail. A whispered word of complaint went a long way.

Some locals said the mess was because too many residents were in the red with God.

Others, the older ones with longer, harsher memories, said it was all because of a curse leftover from the days of the mean White settlers who raped and murdered the pretty Native Mexican women. The Mexican face was not what it had once been. Noses and lips knew it.

Still others blamed it on the bad, killing booze supplied by the unclean, cash-strapped mojados in what they called old bottles of rot-gut whiskey. Cheap, horse urine-laced beer was being trucked-in from the sticks.

A few said little about it, fully believing that enough bullshit flowed through town that to say anything else would only add to the horrible portrait of the town known well to others living better elsewhere.

The year was ending, and, for many, that was a good thing. An ever-rewarding God still made the new day full of promise, the old ones meant solely for the dust-covered ledger of bygone memories. You could sit down with the neighbor or the wife and hear stories. 

Licha's Lounge had emptied slowly, and it was a hard-coughing and the flicking of a cigarette lighter outside that offered the night a soulful soundtrack to something or another...

-30-

[EDITOR'S NOTE:...An excerpt from a longer version in the collection...]

BLOGGERS:...No Shows After Humiliating 49-21 Brownsville Veterans High State Playoffs Loss...Losers Want Nothing To Do With Losing...

 

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ

BROWNSVILLE, Texas |...Maybe it is as they say - Losers hate losing. Or perhaps it's just another example of a dusty, border community not ever facing its failures. This falling town could use some balls.

For two long weeks, it rallied loud & proud around the Brownsville Veterans Memorial High School football team performing like out-of-towners. The young Chargers were everywhere in Brownsville, on T-shirts, posters and in daily conversation at bars and restaurants.

We are in the state playoffs, they all crowed.

In the freakin' semifinals. One victory from the State Finals at AT&T Stadium in Arlington - home field of the Dallas Cowboys.

Leading the winner's choir were the local bloggers.

All pushed the team onward, some with photos and stories, others with photo montages. The Chargers had them on their side like beans lining up with any Mexican lunch plate in town. Go Chargers, they bellowed.

This came freely after the over-achieving Chargers beat the then-undefeated, state-ranked PSJA North Raiders on their home field and after the Chargers beat vaunted, also unbeaten Corpus Christi Miller at home in front of more than 10,000 rabid supporters.

The opportunistic bloggers filled their online pages with glowing, gasping reports of the coming possibilities. The Chargers can do it, they went on. They can win STATE!!!

But the Chargers faltered badly against bigger, faster Smithson Valley last Friday, eliminated convincingly in a 49-21 thrashing that actually was worse than the score may indicate. Well, it was 49-0 in the fourth quarter, the Chargers managing three scores against second- and third-stringers thrown-in by the sympathetic Rangers coaches.

The loss was felt by those Chargers backers who'd made the hours-long drive to Corpus Christi, who filled their side of the stadium, who cheered from the opening play to the last one. They were there.

Bloggers took it up the wazoo like a Boy's Town prostitute and said nothing.

There would be no stories full of killer adjectives or fighting verbs. Blogger Juan Montoya (shown in photo below) posted a photo of the game crowd with the silly "Fue horrible, Fue horrible" headline. It was a horrible defeat, but Montoya, the only local blogger with actual newsroom experience, left it at that.

Blogger Jerry McHale, shown in photo atop this post, said nothing. The usually effusive 74-year-old posted nothing. He was spent, perhaps. Or maybe he is one of those locals who run from anything resembling defeat, because they are losers.

McHale had thrown the Chargers on his back for two weeks, posting a string of positive write-ups and photos. He was going with them all the way to state. Sucking success, we would say, is his cheap style.

That pathetic approach also applies to his perennial blogging shadow Jim Barton, shown above in photo at right, who also posted nothing about the Smithson Valley game. The 75-year-old had even taken his readers to Parker County's Aledo, Texas in the Dallas-For-Worth Metroplex for a looksee at the potential State Finals opponent for the BVM Chargers.

On the defeat, nothing came from house husband Barton, owner of an unsightly Dairy Neck and Trump-like Little Hands.

Like a lost fool, he opted to go downtown and take photos of old local fuckers standing at corner intersections, as if that's where the day's news lived. Barton has no Real Journalism experience.

There would be no finale report, no haunting coda to this story from these boys.

The mighty Chargers had been beaten and these mediocre bloggers, especially Elderly-About-Town Blogger McHale and No-College, No Job Barton, were not about to share any sort of responsibility in that embarrassing disaster.

They've lost for so long that they'll fight it from here on out...

-30-    

PLAYOFFS:......Clock Strikes Midnight For Brownsville Vets In Semifinals Loss to Smithson Valley...Down 49-0, They Lose 49-21...

 

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ

CORPUS CHRISTI, Texas |...Cinderella walked home. Well, walked off the football field here in the form of the Brownsville Veterans Memorial Chargers, losers in Friday's Texas high school Division 5A semifinals to the dominant Smithson Valley Rangers, 49-21.

The final score told only one story.

This much-anticipated game was over at halftime, Smithson Valley leading 35-0 by then after scoring all five times it had the ball in the first half. When it received the kickoff for the start of the second half, Smithson Valley's senior wide receiver Cole Freund ran it back all the way.

42-0.

The lead grew to 49-0, as Brownsville Head Coach J.C. Ramirez stubbornly clung to a running game that was stopped over and over and over. Ultimately, the Vets would score on the ground, but that would come late in the fourth quarter against Smithson Valley second-stringers.

As advertised and noted in newspaper write-ups before the contest, it was the Rangers vaunted running attack that dominated the line of scrimmage from the very beginning. Smithson Valley scored touchdowns on all five drives in the first half, using mostly end sweeps to find the end zone.

Perhaps it was the clearly-visible energy brought to the game by the Rangers, but Vets players - on offense and defense - looked lethargic. The fire seen in Vets QB Storm Montoya (shown in photo above) in the previous two come-from-behind games wasn't there. In fact, he was harried, hurried, harassed and harpooned by Smithson Valley's defensive line, one play in which Montoya was viciously slammed to the turf symbolic of his long night for the Brownsville eleven.

Enter backup QB Cesar Sosa.

The night's only bright spot for the over-matched Vets was the play of senior jitterbug receiver Gilbert Trillo. He seemed to find yardage every time he was handed the football, scoring two of Brownsville three touchdowns, this after the game had been settled, however.  

All in all, it was a proud run into the state semifinals for the Rio Grande Valley squad, which finished the season with a respectable 12-3 record. The Rangers now play the tough Aledo Bearcats in the Finals at AT&T Stadium in Arlington. Powerhouse Aledo easily beat Forney yesterday to remain undefeated and in line for its 12th state title. Smithson Valley is 14-1 after beating Brownsville.

There will be talk. No one likes to lose. Stadium boobirds and loud couch critics back home always get their say. But reaching the state semifinals is some accomplishment for the gutsy Valley squad. There should be no hanging of the heads or expressions of regret. The game is decided on the field and the field action said Smithson Valley won the game. Coaching decisions - the game plans - are on the coaches.

"We made history, even though we did not get the outcome today, but we made history in Brownsville," Chargers senior linebacker Jaime Martinez told a reporter for RGV Sports.

History can be fun or cruel.

Like wins and losses in high school football...

-30-

...ROUGH ROAD TO THE FINALS:...Gutty Brownsville Vets...It's The Only Story In Town...This Will Not Be A Game For Mom Or Grandma...

 

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ

CORPUS CHRISTI, Texas |...That cool, rarified December air and a much-better opponent. Ingredients for a blowout, sure. The third part of that equation being bitter defeat.

That's what the smart boys at TexasFootball.com are saying about tonight's Class 5A, semifinals tussle at Buccaneer Stadium between the upstart Brownsville Veterans Memorial High Chargers and the more-accomplished Smithson Valley Rangers.

It's Game Time for a trip to the Finals at AT&T Stadium, home of the Dallas Cowboys.

Smithson Valley (13-1) is favored. Brownsville Vets (12-2) has been dissed before.

The perennial contender Rangers are supposed to have a clearcut advantage at quarterback (Ryland Walker, shown in photo above) and at running back. Vets will rise or hang with headstrong QB Storm Montoya and defensive stalwart Jaime Martinez. It should be, we say, one of those wild, up and down the field shootouts, perhaps even a bloodied one.

Both teams came from behind to win their last game, Smithson Valley over A&M Consolidated and Brownsville over Corpus Christi Miller.

This is THE STORY in Brownsville...and across the Rio Grande Valley, a city and region used to being routinely whipped by upstate schools year after year after year. It's been 62 years since the fabled Donna Redskins won the only state championship won by a Valley squad. Ironically, like the Vets, Donna High carried two defeats into the playoffs, ultimately beating Quanah High at Memorial Stadium in Austin behind steady QB Luz Pedraza and non-nonsense linebacker Freddie Edwards.

Seasoned pundits at TexasFootball.com say Smithson Valley's ball-control style of play, along with better overall talent will see the Rangers leave the field with a victory.

But what's on paper doesn't always tell the story. Scripts can go bonkers between the sidelines. Big Plays tend to be the deciders in these late-season games. Drive and emotion can indeed take you to the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro.

These Brownsville Vets have over-achieved all season, especially after early-season losses to San Benito and lowly PSJA. That victory two weeks ago over unbeaten, state-ranked PSJA North seems to have been the catalyst for where the team is now, showing-off and riding the playoff crest.

Beating also-undefeated, favored Corpus Christi Miller at home last weekend pumped some can-do into Coach J.C. Ramirez's charges.

Can Brownsville maintain the superiority? It scored all of its points in the second half after being down 21-0 at the start of the fateful third quarter to Miller. That was all-guts, all want-to.

Tonight's game may not be for Mom or Grandma as the boys brawl on the field, the championship-starved Vets not going away easy, their hunger evident from the opening play. As for the halftime score, well, we say it will not be very meaningful in this game. Second-half roars have been the norm for Brownsville Vets. Expect it one more time. 

KNOW THIS:...Tonight's game is not simply Vets vs. another team.

This will be Vets vs. History, a genuine moment in time...

-30-

TARGETING:...Brownsville Blogger Is "Dummy Of The Week"...Horse-Collars Aledo, Texas For No Reason...

 

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ

BROWNSVILLE, Texas |...The dude just doesn't know football. That would be one Jim Barton, shown in photo above looking like Vince Lombardi. Well, no. But he tries once more to be the newsman he'll never be.

Barton is acting demographer in tearing down Aledo, Texas in his latest post, his unstructured mess couched in terms of the unbeaten, 11-time champion Aledo High Bearcats possibly being Brownsville Veterans Memorial High's next opponent for the state title if the local Chargers can get past favored Smithson Valley tomorrow night in Corpus Christi.

Talk about "targeting."

The 75-year-old Barton, owner of an unsightly Dairy Neck, has taken time to tell us what he thinks of tiny Aledo. It is racist, he just about says - this using only an anecdote from 30 years ago! Barton and wife Nenny, with son James, better known in Brownsville as Diego Lee Rot, lived up Aledo way and apparently received some communication from AISD to the effect that education for their son would be a bear in the Parker County town.

Who knows if young Barton attended school there (it's a wealthy community, and Jimmy does not say), or whether the kid graduated from high school or college. Dad Barton did NOT go or graduate from college, working mostly minimum wage jobs throughout his adult life.

At present, Jimmy is a house husband with wife support. She works; he does not.

What he doesn't say in his slam job is that Aledo, just west of Fort Worth, is much like other wealthy Dallas/Fort Worth towns that drew from White Flight out of Big D in the late 1970s and 1980s. Frisco grew that way, as did Plano and Southlake.

The Chargers (12-2) are focused on Smithson Valley (13-1), as they should be.

Old Man Barton as always gets ahead of himself, but that may be an age thing.

Why don't you tell us more? Tell us about how Aledo High has won 11 state championships (there has been only one in the Rio Grande Valley: Donna High in 1961) when its population is barely 5,000 (smaller than La Feria). That is some accomplishment, we would say.

It is a second-tier, Division 5A school and the Aledo Bearcats do not play powerhouse 6A teams such as Duncanville, DeSoto, Galena Park North Shore or even Austin Westlake. They are dominant in their own bracket, however.

And they do get the players, even as small as it is. Recruiting high school athletes is illegal, but somehow talented Black players end up playing for Aledo High. Former Texas Longhorns Running Back Jonathan Gray starred at Aledo, as did Jase McCallister, now at Alabama. Jobs for parents is what gets these superstar kids to Aledo.

There is a movement at the Texas Legislature on a Bill that would allow high school athletes to transfer from one school to another without violating University Interscholastic League (UIL) rules and regulations. It is, we're told, still in committee discussions.

Frankly, again I find Barton's cheap, shallow diatribe disturbing in that he merely hangs his story on the "class thing." It is as if he is envious of the Aledo model. The town is still so out of the metroplex way that it can exist on its own terms. A wife says, "Hon, your hands smell like pussy." No, he answers, "Horses". You move to small, outlier Aledo because you want to; it has little industry and remains largely a bedroom community for professionals earning their cash in the neighboring Big Cities.

What that has to do with high school football only small-minded Jimmy Barton knows.

I've been there, back when I was a student at UT-Arlington and, more recently, when we lived in Fort Worth and I wrote for D Magazine in Dallas.

We never, ever cease to be amazed at this untrained/uneducated blogger's take on the day's news. He seems to make it a game to go off the rails and type up some obtuse angle on the story of the day. That's the brain working, you know. What he doesn't get is that he forever misses the point of conveying useful information. For that failing, we point to his lack of a formal education.

And, yeah, we wonder what Jimmy Boy would have written about the geography setting home to Smithson Valley High.

That would have been better than a cowardly horse-collar tackle on Aledo...

-30-

SUN RECORDS:...Newsroom Jukebox..."Navidad Sin Ti"...