EL MARIACHI: Blogger JuanMontoya Self-Immolates...Breaks Out Stupidities...Lies To Himself...Leaves City Library...

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ
Special to The Tribune

BROWNSVILLE, TX - You would need a big shovel to dig far enough down into the ground here to find real honor. That's just the way it is, and has been. No excuses, no compromises. It is what it is. Life goes on, beaten forcefully through a trash-filled ravine by a hangdog-faced citizenry. To expect anything else is to expect the world coming here to show-off.

We tried to take the high road. Lord knows we did. But local fool Juan Montoya let his Chicanoe blood get the better of him, as always. Que lastima.

He burst forth this morning like a crazed banshee to blast away at me. At me! How sick is this puppy? All we did was question his doings at that Blog of his (a free Blog, like this one). Juan's ire perhaps comes from his situation with the national economy. The Blog makes him his income, thanks as well to, we hear, computers at the city library. We think it is the only Blog in the area selling advertising. It is his pleasure, sure. Pobre Juan. This self-abusing diatribe on his Blog aimed at me is a load of crap, likely an assault to continue the cover-up, the shame of his recent weeks. He cites incidents that never happened (Me at a bullfight in Reynosa with Jerry McHale. CUANDO!), tries mightily to elevate his minor-league newspapering accomplishments (oh, getting a job in San Antonio after a stint at The Herald is a great accomplishment. Ha ha), and then takes me to task for being creative.

The Blog is a goof, Juan. How many times have I said it on El Roci - another Goof.

It's a bit of the creative juices. Yes, they are characters. So what? I suppose your creativity peaked when you stretched out your hand to take Ernie Hernandez's cash, eh, Juan? I reel at having to write anything about you. Why bother with the dispossessed? You apparently are in your element, and I do not have the desire to rid you of your failings. Be proud in knowing you invented Farmworker Journalism. Be happy with your little world, absolutely. No one can tell you what to do. You are a big boy, so you know exactly about things such as social standing, photos of Cesar Chavez notwithstanding, huh?

And, tell me, what's wrong with having a bite at a greasy-spoon, as you label these eateries. Jesus, are you so provincial that you ignore the fact that those same eateries are in the majority in your lovely little town? I stop where I want to stop, never, ever worried about the whys. I eat in the best of places and, when I want to, in lesser dives. What's your preference in bars, Juan - The Leopard Lounge in Palm Beach or El Siete Mares in Brownsville? Tell me about El Siete Mares. What's valet parking cost at that 14th Street landmark? And the cost of the best of wines? Do patrons there speak English?

This is an exercise in slumming for me, Juan. You know it and I know it and our mutual friends know it. Big deal. Who cares? It really doesn't matter a damn. Life will go on unchanged. I'm accustomed to a smooth ride, as the song says.

For your information, my Blog is written wherever I am on any given day. It has been written in Brownsville on one occasion, some when I've been in McAllen and a bunch of times via my laptop at airports and coffee shops. So what? It's 2010, Juan! Do I have to be in Brownsville to write about Brownsville? You're so 1980s, Bato. All those corn tortillas have stalled your brain, rendered you useless.

I'm not going to pull any intellectual poetry off the Internet to cement my case here. It's not even a case. It's bullshit. We both know you will keep doing what you've learned to do, in a way you know is weird, yet profitable for you. Go ahead. It's no skin off my back. And, btw, I'm not the Most Interesting Man in Brownsville. I believe someone wrote on El Roci that I was the Most Interesting Man in the State. And, yeah, who am I to quarrel with a Valley girl's idea of interesting?

I did like your use of the word galan in referring to me. Nice touch, lad.

I'd never use it to describe you. We travel different roads, are on different social orbits, and if I had to use well-known figures, as you do in your poetry, I'd say I'm The Lone Ranger and you're Tonto. Or Squanto. Cantinflas maybe. One of those mensos, yeah. 

Now, bring my car around...

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