The City

The City

Sunday, August 2, 2015

IT'S OVER!!! Blogging Is Dead...Old Fucks & Punks Left To Sex-Up Keyboards...



"Oh, and it's a hollow feelin' when
It comes down to dealin' friends
It never ends..."
- Eagles, Tequila Sunrise

By DAN McLANAHAN
Staff Writer

BROWNSVILLE, Texas - Local history will record that it was an unusually cold day in December of 2010, when the spike in bloggers and blogging began to wane here. Gone on extended break was Melissa Zamora's peppy blog, BlogginAllThingsBrownsville, as was an inane effort by some clown who'd named his headache of a blog The Merovinigian, and leaving was my initial effort here, Brownsville Garbage, a sentient tale of woe and more woe. Somewhere in there, a few others died, like PoliticalOutsider and that forgettable piece of crap by perennial loser political candidate Roman Perez. Cafe Brownsville, by football stadium gopher Chris Davis, passed without notice. And even Juan Montoya's oddly-named El Rrun Rrun left for a time, when he was ordered to county jail for months.

Blogging here, it is said in quiet bars, sucks.

"The biggest fool is Jim Barton!" yelled a patron at Larry's Touchdown Dive on Central Boulevard. "That guy ends up pissing me off and never informing me of serious news shit. I heard he had a heart attack, but that he's back online. Why! Waste of life for that clown. Big waste!"

The bar quickly exploded into a series of shotgunned shouting matches, with patrons opining on their favorite blogs and on those they just hated. A waitress ducked behind the bar and trembled when a heavyset man slid off his bar stool and began screaming: "Blimp is the worst fucker on there! If you try to read his stories your brain goes numb! Fucking slop is what he's dealing. I'd like to run into him someday, but they say he never really comes out except to go to the VA clinic! Useless is his middle name."

A song by the Mexican group Bronco burst out of the jukebox even though no one had seen anyone head over and plunk his six quarters. "Hey!" someone hollered, pointing at it. "Ya'll see that? It started playing on its own!"

"Yeah," came another cry from a table near the front door. "It's the God of Blogging telling ya'll to shut the fuck up! Blogging in this town is dead! And has been for years! Those guys are just doing it cause it's some sort of addiction, is what I hear!"

"If they're not pecking away at their computer keyboards, they're hitting you up for cash in the hall of the courthouse or eating free grub at the political pachangas! These idiots don't give a shit about Brownsville! I know one of them and that guy just laughs at the others. He says Barton doesn't have to brains to explain anything half-complicated. I believe it!"

Smoke had filled the bar and no one was moving. Cigarettes were being passed around as if a collection plate in church. "It's about time we talked about blogging here, yeah!" shouted another boozer. "Bloggers say our newspaper ain't shit! You all believe that! Bloggers lie like sonsabitches. Oh, I have some documents coming! And, oh, I'm one source short of hanging this school administrator! And, oh, I'm waiting on the attorney general to rule on this before I go for legal action! Goddamned eunuchs! I would laugh if were not so sad, shit!"

It was almost closing time and everybody had stopped to take a deep breath. The elections had come and gone. Potholes were being fixed. The weather had turned oppressive, and the hottest rumor in town was that SpaceX was in financial trouble after a series of rocket explosions in Florida. Smallish, brown-skinned kids sporting faces full of dreams were suiting up to play high school football again.

Like the bloggers, their quest for greatness was doomed.

In the case of the high school football players, it was their size and speed, or lack of it, that ultimately would spell defeat. For the bloggers, it was clear and unquestionable lack of writing talent...

- 30 -

BAD CHILI!!!...The Lives & Times of The McHale Report. Bummer In the Newsroom...

Scott Steinback

By SCOTT STEINBECK
Special To The Brownsville Daily News

BROWNSVILLE, Texas - The office is vacant now. In the corner behind my battered executive desk, that aging fedora from a better past hangs like some remembrance of both love and dust. All the noise has left. It is again quiet in the darkened offices of The McHale Report, the city's official whip. Earlier in the day, I had tangled with writer Max Maxwell over a story he had submitted that simply was not up to our usual standard. He'd been angered when I'd popped my head out of my office and screamed out into newsroom, where he sat bullshitting with our receptionist, Monique Molina, screamed this: "Max, I can't publish this blowjob!"

And then he'd stormed into my office and started in on me.

"You don't know shit about sports, Scott!" he bellowed. "That's my best freakin' story! How long have I been covering Brownsville high schools! How long! You don't even know, do you?!"

"It's a story about a high school football coach you say is a legend," I fired back, my words chased by blackened smoke that came from years of dragging on Mexican cigarettes. "Yet, Max, this sumbitch has never even been to the state finals! What is your definition of legend?!"

He sat back in his chair, one of two easy loungers directly in front of my desk. I could see him working up a sentence. His head moved ever-so-slightly before he said, "Local legend, okay?"

I laughed spontaneously, like some Vato who's bought a scratch-off lottery ticket and discovered he's won the Big One, a real genuine guffaw. It took me long seconds to recover my wits. Laughter is so neat one forgets you eventually come out of it.

"Local legend?" I asked.

"That's it, Scott," Maxwell said, his reply the total resignation of a reporter who knew he worked the small markets and would never make it to the Big Time. At that moment, I felt sorry for him. All a man has this far south in the country is his pride, I had come to learn. Max Maxwell was telling me he had given me all he had in that story, which, truth be told, was simply lazy reporting. In looking around at my community, I see that lazy approach to things as the main yoke around our residents. Max Maxwell was a good writer at one time. But now, now the times and geography had robbed him of his creativity. He was a minnow in a minnow tank of harsh water.

"Take the story," I said next. "Take it and rewrite it. I can't use it in its present form. It's embarrassing, Max."

He nodded and rose out of his chair slowly. I sat back and inhaled a deep breath. This was the toughest part of my job as executive editor of The McHale Report. You had to soothe egos around this town, as feelings, although worn out in the open, were frail. I watched Max scoot toward his desk and saw our receptionist try to greet him, with a smile.

Max Maxwell did not acknowledge her. He simply kept walking, arms in an arrogant swing...

- 30 -    

Saturday, August 1, 2015

Elderly Barhopping!!! Social Security Check Affords Local Couple A Beer At Happy Hour...

Jimmy & Nena Barton

By GILBERT WEIGHTMAN-CERVANTES
Special to The Brownsville Daily News

BROWNSVILLE, Texas - Like many in this fun-starved border town, Jim and Nena Barton get bored playing Monopoly on the living room floor. They tire of bathing together to save on their water bill, and, when their monthly Social Security check is deposited into their bank, they always set aside $5 for a visit to their favorite bar, the Howl At The Moon Night Club.

"Ever since Jimmy lost his hair, well, we have decided to splurge every now and then," says Nena, a caricaturist with a small following here. "We buy two Budweisers and drink up!"

This month Jim had enough to get himself a pair of flip-flops, she went on. "Yeah, $6.99 at Walmart," Nena added, laughing like an experienced wife.

For his part, Jim Barton says he wishes he could drink more, and drink with male friends, but laments that he has no such pal. "I blog mostly," he moaned. "Without my blog, well, they'd be dragging me to the nursing home. By blogging, I'm cleaning up my community. My blogging is meaningful, not like others in town, like Brownsville Voice, which is annoying as all Hell."

And then the waitress arrived and Nena reached for her pocketbook.

It would be September, when their next Social Security check arrived, that they would enjoy another beer outing...

- 30 - 

GET BACK!!! Bilious Blogger Types Away Like A Sumbitch. Residents Want An Ending...

Blogger Johnny Montoya

By RICK LONGORIA
Staff Writer

BROWNSVILLE, Texas - Standing at his office window inside the Cameron County Courthouse, walkabout District Attorney Luis V. Saenz believes there are days when he can see forever, like all the way to the top of the sky. But this morning, he looked over toward the city he patrols and spotted someone in his building's parking lot who looked strikingly similar in body shape to the man who's on him like flies on baaaad Guacamole, the rock-faced blogger Juan Montoya.

"It was just the guy's back," said an office insider. "That's all Montoya ever gives us, his back."

The assessment is at odds with Montoya's all-electric, 24-hour assault on the man residents here would like to believe has their back, against crime and criminals!

But reading Montoya's political oldies blog, it's easy to see why Saenz and his staff are angered beyond, well, anger. The blogger, meanwhile, keeps on keeping on, his daily online missives as trenchant as a bad enchilada bought at closing time and puked on the way home.

"Juan must be writing some sick corrido," said another courthouser. "He has this idea that Louie Saenz is doing nothing but bad, that if Juan's corrido ends, well, the county will die. Look at Juan's blog and you'll see he is nothing but D.A.-Wightman (local incoherent blogger Robert Wightma)-D.A.-Wightman-D.A. Wightman. Every damned day!"

Montoya perseveres. Or, as he might say, "I am severely blogging."

The tale is now so well-known that all oft-whipped residents here want is a fuckin' ending!...

- 30 -

[Editor's Note: Staff Writer Rick Longoria is not the city commissioner by the same name. As former Herald reporter Rey Guevara likes to say, "There could be a thousand Rick Longorias in this damned town!" He may be right... 

Friday, July 31, 2015

HOT TORTILLAS!!! Brownsville Identifies Its No. 1 Industry. And, Oh, Yeah, Stacking Is Key...

Tortilleria Student Rosa Rosario Rosales

By TED HASSE
Staff Writer

BROWNSVILLE, Texas - A two-week study undertaken by the city's sales tax revenue department has yielded a wild result: It is tortillas and not the illegal drug trade that moves the city's economic engine!

"I know," said department honcho Gene "The Dancing Machine" Barbosa. "I was shocked, too. But the numbers don't lie, my man. Look at them. We see sales of tortillas out the freakin' roof! We now estimate that every resident of the city eats at least six tortillas a day. Imagine the revenue!"

And with that in mind, the City of Brownsville has begun a free class to teach prospective tortilleria employees how to stack tortillas (see photo above of applicant Rosa Rosario Rosales), so that, after the six-weeks class, they can land jobs in the burgeoning industry.

"The mayor wholeheartedly believes in our data," added Barbosa. "He is on record as saying he will push our tortilla prowess to the international business community. Hey, tortillas are big in Berlin! The mayor is planning an exploratory trip over that way, so that maybe we can export our great tortillas."

Stacking of tortillas is crucial, Barbosa went on, because consumers like them packaged neatly. "That is why you don't see tortillerias selling them in a box!" noted Barbosa. "The stack is the main selling point. Well, next to the taste, of course."

According to Barbosa, Mayor Antonio "Tony" Martinez, who is in his second term in office, wants to wean local youth off the drug trade and into the sure-fire-paycheck job of working the profitable tortilla trade.

"We use tortillas in damned near everything!" exclaimed the portly Barbosa. "Enchiladas? Check. Tacos? Check. Chalupas? Check. Tostadas? Check. They're everywhere, dude!"

The mayor has also said that he would rather see new tortillerias opening downtown than transient bars and lounges that open one month and close the next.

"Tortillas are the future," the mayor reportedly told a gathering at the Brownsville Chamber of Commerce, where he had attendees try their hand at stacking them...

- 30 -  

Thursday, July 30, 2015

Elderly Couple Stuns City! Cops Say They Stole Hot Dogs...

Jim & Nena Barton

By RON MEXICO
Staff Writer

BROWNSVILLE, Texas - Two of this city's least-attractive senior citizens were arrested yesterday after attending a political gathering and, as police said, "eating too much of the free food."

Jim and Nena Barton, shown pretty much full in photo above, were released after posting $1,000 bonds. Outside the jail, Jim Barton told story-hungry reporters that he and Nena, an amateur caricaturist whose art has suffered of late, that they scarfed-up on the free hot dogs because their social security checks had been delivered to the wrong trailer at the Central Boulevard trailer park they call home.

"We're old people," he said. "We need to eat and I hate to see Nena after three-four days of not eating. She was crying herself to sleep and looking like an old Mexican woman from Matamoros."

Barton, operator of a dull blog, also said he attended the gathering not out of any sense of supporting the candidate furnishing the free food, but because another elderly neighbor had told him about the event. "Goober Johnson knocked on every trailer's door, 'cause it's mostly old fucks living where we live."

Police said a woman working the food service complained that Jim Barton had stuffed his pockets with three heaping hot dogs and cops said they found two more in Nena's granny underwear.

"This town does not like senior citizens," Nena Barton said while cursing at the hot sidewalk. "They would rather kick us to the curb than let us have three hot dogs at the event and five-to-go."

The Bartons are familiar faces at all free-food gatherings.

- 30 - 

Caricature of Caricaturist Shocks Caricaturist! Nena Barton Feels The Hurt...



By DIEGO LEE ROT
Staff Writer

BROWNSVILLE, Texas - We are nothing if not forever in the hunt for that freakin' specific element of the universe's make-up that will settle things once and for all in those however-few cases of wonderment and mystery.

Yeah, like what if someone worked-up a caricature of resident caricaturist Nena Barton, the Queen of Dollar Store Charcoals and Crayolas?

Well, kids, it's happened! That's Nena in the caricature above, although some may say it bears a striking resemblance to the warring Native American Geronimo, or, okay, any of a thousand drunks making their way home from over along the city's fabled Cantina Row, i.e. 14th Street.

The biting and insightful caricature was forwarded to us by a friend of this Blog who shall remain nameless. Nosey readers and those bent on the work of Sherlock Holmes should be able to decipher the secret quite easily. Okay, okay. The artist's name is affixed to the caricature, there on the left side.

And those of you who follow the city's lackluster Blogs know that Mrs. Barton, not to be confused with Frida Kahlo or Georgia O'Keefe or Martina Navratilova, offered her caricature of this particular artist, a rendering that was widely panned as being "amateurish and simply childish."

We trust Nena Barton will take it all in creative stride.

Yeah, in the same manner she has taken her husband, Pulled Pork Blogger Jim Barton, for the past freakin' 50 years! That's a lot of hard living. Kinda like a country & western singer throwing out his ear-hurtin' ballads about bad food and racks in jail...

- 30 -

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Elderly Couple In Cafe Tiff. Called Bums. Banned!!!...

Meet The Bartons

By RUDOLF VON BULOW
Staff Writer

BROWNSVILLE, Texas - Local food bums Jim and Nena Barton arrived at a resaca-front eatery this past weekend, sat down and then were angered when the waiter staff ignored them for long minutes.

"Fuck this!" Jim Barton screamed when police arrived to escort them out. Larry Lou Hernandez, owner of the economic chicken-neck place, said the Bartons are a "pain in the ass."

"They come in, sit down and ask for water," he said in an interview. "If Jim and Nena have bought three chicken necks from me in five years, that's two too many. But they do hit me for the free chips and salsa like crazy. These two bums need help. They're killing my business, dude!"

Paunchy Jim Barton, operator of a dead blog, declined to speak to this reporter, but his occasional squeeze, Nena Barton, said she hates doing it.

"Jim forces me to come here and he forces me to ask for the chips and salsa over and over," she went on. "It's humiliating, but that's been my life with this man. I wish I had married a wealthy Mexican!"

Hernandez said he will paste a photo of the Bartons at the door and ask staff to not let them inside his business, Necks R Us.

- 30 -     

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Local Would-Be Artist Has Grand Dream: To Read!...

Nena Barton

By DIEGO LEE ROT
Staff Writer

BROWNSVILLE, Texas - Local amateur caricaturist Nena Barton is appreciating border life a bit more these days after learning to read. "I am really into 'The Cat In The Hat' and have checked out three other books at the library," she said during an interview earlier this week.

Barton, who has trouble with the English language, is known in some bars as an artist still in search of her talent. "That broad's cartoons are sick!" said Willie Boy Lopez, a patron at a downtown bar. "What - we'll next see her pulling up a stand on a sidewalk and asking people for two bucks to draw them? Ha ha ha."

At last check, Barton lived with her idle husband, Jim, at a small trailer park on Central Boulevard. Near the end of our interview, she said her dream is to stop aging and to get medical help for the hand-trembling she blames for her lousy caricatures, all of which render familiar faces wildly grotesque.

"I'm hoping her reading will help," added Jim Barton. "I got her an Art 101 book this week at the flea market, so..."

- 30 -

Staff Writer Diego Lee Rot, shown at left being examined by a partera, is a local Mexican born to a deadbeat farmworker and a retarded mother. He came to Brownsville illegally, after a stay at a Matamoros foster home, where he claims to have been abused by a mustachioed street sweeper who seduced him with Jose Jose songs. Diego lives with the knowledge that he is an idiot and will die in a trash can. His father was killed in Dallas by a racist cop and his mother drowned in the Rio Grande, this after being told her food stamp allotment was being cut...

Monday, July 27, 2015

HOLY CHEAP SMOKES! State Rep. Rene Oliveira Wants New Pronunciation Of His Girly Name...

State Rep. Rene Oliveira

By Eva Perez-Trevino
Staff Writer

BROWNSVILLE, Texas - Insisting on creating a "brand name" he hopes will lead to consumer products such as bobble head dolls and party balloons bearing a likeness of his face, State. Rep. Rene Oliveira also wants it known that, from now on, his name will be pronounced "Renay," and not "Rrrre-neh," as is customary in his native Spanish language.

"He is now a lot like Kim Kardashian and Cantinflas," said his lifelong chief of staff, Tony Gray.

Oliveira is the longest-serving "Rene" in Texas politics, added Gray, who ironically is on his own journey to have a tombstone after his passing that will read, "I love my Luby's grub."

Indeed, Gray went on, as is his custom when talking about the man who hired him at a time when cash was hard to find, most people in Austin call his boss "Renay," and it is only in Brownsville, when he hangs out with boozing, fajita-scarfing Mexicans that the Democrat Oliveira insists on "Rrrre-neh."

There is no change to the adjectives used by many who loathe him, however. Idiot and stupid and dense and moocher and retard, and, yeah, pendejo, are still in place...

- 30 -