THE LOVE CHRONICLES: How I Found The Rio Grande Valley's Horrible, Hidden Problem...

Was she told when she was young
that pain would lead to pleasure
Did she understand it when they said
That a man must break his back
to earn his day of leisure?
Will she still believe it when he's dead
  - Girl, The Beatles

By RICARDO KLEMENT
Staff Writer

HARLINGEN, Texas - In the best novels, those that delve deeply into the soul of their characters, women are best portrayed as either the essence of beauty or the victims of terrible love. Something strains the emotional ties, elongating and testing the string that is romance. Invariably, it is either women availing the sexual in unchained melodies or failing at the test most men assign to the bedroom.

In the Rio Grande Valley, love is so devalued as to be unrecognizable. And much of the blame must be assigned to the inability to render love, by these local women, we mean. Undressing does not equal sex. Feigning pleasure is as easily distinguishable as is the the woman arriving for a simplistic poking. So, we ask today: Why are Valley women so unskilled in the sexual act? And why are they not as creative as women elsewhere? What is it about the local geography that has them taking it with so much left unsaid and undone?

Literature is full of great couplings. Indeed, it is said that without sex there is no literature.

What we get in the RGV in the way of romance more often than not is bad romance. The newspapers are full of outrageous stories telling of love-gone-wrong, of cheating, of knifing-the-wife, of catching him/her with another partner, of murder, of families torn apart viciously, utterly without mercy.

The other day, I made love to a Valley woman. It was as unsatisfying an adventure as likely is the majority of local love-making. How can it be, I asked myself, solely slipping it in & withdrawing it? How can this woman only wish to pleasure me? Why won't she verbalize her desires, her needs? She rolled over when asked and popped-up when told. I waited. I waited for her to say it, to say it cooly like that woman I knew in Dallas: "Go down on me...Do both..."

But she never did. This one allowed me no thrill beyond seeing her undress. There is a difference. There is a difference in making love to a woman who knows how and a woman who doesn't. In the RGV, women have no idea there is so much more to fucking. They don't know! They make love like women made love in the 1800s, as if with their clothing on, as if believing nakedness left them so vulnerable that to seek the best would somehow bother her male partner.

And so it went. Me & my female torso on an up & down ride for a few minutes, followed by my string of usual requests, chased by my heightened blood flow, my ultimate jetting into her however-pleased or stunned vagina. I had no idea whether she'd gotten what I'd gotten, whether she had climbed the clouds, whether she had roared her lioness best, internally maybe, far, far from where I worked it.

Yeah, perhaps I'll have to go upstate for my next round.

Lord knows I need gorgeous companionship, not some ditzy, utilitarian doll...

- 30 -

YIKES!: The New Legend of The Border Bandit Juan Cortina...

By REY BUCKINGHAM
Tribune Gay Affairs Writer

BROWNSVILLE, Texas - History records that the wildest Gay sex ever had here involved the border bandit Juan Cortina and a strapping Texas Ranger by the name of McKinney, son of a Waco-area family who eventually wrote graphically about it in his diary. According to the McKinney family, the Cortina trysts came often and were described in the diaries as wild, overly-physical affairs. As The Tribune's new Gay Affairs Writer, I have been looking into this over at the city library, which avails its computers free-of-charge.

Here's the skinny: Juan, The Bandit was not as well-endowed as his ethnic backers have asserted for all these years. Clint McKinney, his Anglo lover for several years, insisted in his writings that Cortina would take some weird weed concoction to get an erection. "And then, sadly, it wasn't much to crow about," wrote the Ranger. "Indeed, I fantasized about it for weeks, thinking this excitable Mexican man had to have a nice, bulbous peter. But no, that wasn't the case."

Cortina was known far & wide along the Texas-Mexico border as a man with a hot temper. He is said to have whipped even his own gang viciously when they disappointed him. As for women in his life, McKinney says there is a reason why no photos exist of Juan, the Bandit with any broads. The McKinney diary: "He would look at them like he wanted to ball them til they dropped, but he never acted on it. Juan was Gay as Gay could ever be."

South Texas historians like to play-up Cortina's banditry as something that helped the poor fend-off the Anglo invasion. Yet, anecdotal material indicates he was a man in the grips of his confused sexuality. McKinney writes that the two often went for long walks along the Rio Grande, with the forlorn Cortina bemoaning the fact that he had a certain unbridled desire for men. "Confessing to me one moonlit night, he admitted that had things been different, he would have slept with two-three of his men," McKinney wrote on a page he titled, "My Jealousy Whips Me. - Again."

Few know about this affliction here in this rough & tumble town, where sexuality is worn openly, yet only after midnight. There are many Gay people in town, something that at first glance goes against the grain of this being the third-toughest bordertown adjoining Mexico.

McKinney is both glib and incredibly forthcoming in his writing about his time with Juan Cortina.

"We walked into bars and cantinas like two guys looking for pussy, but it was all for show," he goes on. "I knew him, and I knew that when he looked at the women dancing, he was, well, wishing he could bed the portly, mustachioed Mexican barback."

It goes on for some 234 pages. There are now serpentine rumors that the actor Edward James Olmos is intrigued by the idea of making a movie about a Gay Juan Cortina. "Not like 'Zorro, The Gay Blade,' but more like 'The Bridges of Madison County,' you know a love that could never be," said a source familiar with the project.

It could go Big Time, absolutely...

- 30 -

[Editor's Note: Writer Rey Buckingham has written extensively about the country's Gay lifestyle. In fact, he is Gay. The Tribune does not endorse his sexual preference, but wishes merely to avail its readers timely and useful information about being Gay in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas...] 

In Harlingen, Two Bloggers Storm City Hall: Chapa: "I'll Take Boswell." Deal: "I've Got Castillo."...

By STONEY HERNANDEZ
Staff Writer

HARLINGEN, Texas - So, how far can you throw your voice in the middle of a brawl? Here, in this sleepy town of some 74,000 denizens suddenly starved for good news, that harsh voice you hear exploding into the streets is the voice of anger-on-a-rope. The anger won't die-down; the rope won't still itself. Now, who's listening?

Some say Bloggers Tony Chapa of MyHarlingenNews.com and Jerry Deal of MyLeaderNews.com merely live to post a fighting story and then live to fight another day. With few exceptions, they get little feedback from the targets of their ire, namely the indifferent mayor, the ambivalent police chief and a handful of other local celebrities. Questions of the day: Are the Bloggers making headway against the powers-that-be? Are they getting an ear at City Hall? Have they caused a few sleepless nights for the elected officials who run this town? Does the community care as much as the Bloggers?

From comments submitted to both sites, one would get the clear idea that, yes, Harlingen cares. Some Bloggers arrive to damn all public servants, while others to defend them. All of it is in the name of moving Harlingen into the future. And so Chapa moves through thick jungles of stubborn naysayers, cutting deadwood with machete-like precision as he navigates his Blog from one day to the next. Across town, Jerry Deal and his ranch hands do the same. There are days when these two "friends" lash at each other like Roman gladiators every chance they get. Competitive juices flow and what you get is more energy than you'd see in a half-dozen Rio Grande Valley WhiteWings ballgames.

But how do you gauge Blogging progress, or relevancy?

Is it by the number of site visitors? By the intelligence - or lack thereof - exhibited in the commentary? How do Tony Chapa and Jerry Deal know if what they are doing is worth the time & effort, the headaches, their friendship? It's a bitch of a DMZ they have fashioned for those moments when they get together and wonder about it all. Critics hound them. Politicians believing one or the other sides by them seek their aid when the need arises. Detractors whip them mercilessly. Supporters pull them up by their britches.

So, are they meaningful?

Yes, they are.

Whatever noise they are creating is good noise. Whatever criticism they aim at Police Chief Danny Castillo and Mayor Chris Boswell is good, if for no other reason that that Castillo and Boswell think they work for themselves and not all of Harlingen. Boswell's style is that of Casper The Ghost, a public servant rarely seen between meetings downtown. The police department head Castillo acts as if he answers only to one person - the City Manager who oversees his work - and not the citizenry that pays him. In its Era of Great Need, Boswell treats Harlingen with all the propriety of a coonhound. Castillo is said to ignore even his own shadow.

And so it goes for little Harlingen. Its once-lively community noise has not quite gone silent, for except when the local utility loses power, Bloggers Deal and Chapa take to the keyboard to play a little Heavy Metal symphony for the much-whipped town. Somewhere in the village, Boswell and Castillo pull their Nixon act out of some sense of feeling alive - slouching down hallways with their faces at their belt buckles, both knowing it won't be long before the avalanche swallows them whole...

- 30 -

As We Near Another Bridge, We Dream & Wonder About A Little Girl Named Sofia...

By PATRICK ALCATRAZ
Editor-In-Chief

McALLEN, Texas - It's getting sort of late, and I don't mean the time of day. Things are good, perhaps better than any one guy ought to have things. There are writing projects to complete and begin, places to go, friends and people to see, burgers and tacos to scarf, Scotch and wine to drink. I could be someone else, someone battling the physical and mental struggle that is getting old and older. Yeah, I am a lucky guy.

And I'm still a few months away from my next chronological slap (okay, okay celebration), yet I do feel one last, great, big dream passing me by.

It's been three years now since I've been wanting to have a daughter. I carry her name in my heart: Sofia, surely a precocious little kiddoe with a big smile and the unconditional love every father values like little else. As most who know me know, I have to daughters - Cynthia Paula (DFW) and Gabrielle Patricia (NYC). Cynthia has her family; Gabrielle her career in Manhattan, where her mother also lives, although not with her.

The beginnings of my flirtation with Sofia's curly hair and soft, loving voice came while I was dating a beautiful Art professor in Dallas whose radiant, red hair absolutely blinded me. But, then, I was also seeing another woman, a married one who at the time wanted out of her marriage...and a son by me. Rebecca, the former, and I tried, and even talked freely about Sofia, each of us imagining her in our own way. Rebecca would have been a great Mom. I just knew. We fell apart, however, and, although I still talk with her from time to time, well, we no longer talk about Sofia.

The other woman, an equally-beautiful, auburn-haired sweetheart, could never escape her marriage. She did, however, have her son by me. And I get photos from her every now and then, always surprises in the mail. He looks to be a handsome kid. He's two now, well, two and a few months. Once, she put him on the phone and he said something I couldn't make out, but his voice sounded like the voice of a kid who would grow and fly high. His mom bought him his first sweater. She told me it was a solid black one in color, my trademark. She named him Anthony without consulting me or her husband. The kid looks sharp in his black sweater and faded jeans and little harness boots. And the hair! She wouldn't cut it for a long time. For that, I was proud of her. Like I say at every opportunity, women help me across this God-abandoned world.

Sofia may still make it.

I just hope I have the time to enjoy her as much as I enjoyed my first two daughters. Ah, memories! Cynthia calling me in New Mexico to ask for $200, 'cause her mother wouldn't spring for dreadlocks. Gabrielle falling off a horse and cracking her collarbone, me antsy for the X-ray results, her Mom staying up with her for long nights that first week. Yeah, plus a hundred other snapshots of moments in their lives and how all that affected ours. I missed many of those great moments because of my job.

There was something about flying home from a long road trip and hitting the airport gift shop for stuffed toys. I am something of a sentimental guy. I will give generously and not simply to make myself feel good about giving. Perhaps it's because they're all women. I do believe I'd be harder on a boy, out of some desire to see him beat me at everything.

So, maybe it'll happen. I don't see any worthy Mommy prospects in this part of the world, but it could happen. It could happen tomorrow. It could happen this weekend. It's what they say: one wink leads to another, one smile to millions...

Sofia is ready, so I flirt and shop and party. And I hear her beautiful laughter, her little girl voice saying, "Alright, already. Pick one, Dad...Yeah, that one..."

 - 30 -

THE BERLIN FILES: How I Came To Hate Nazi Germany...

By PATRICK ALCATRAZ
Editor-In-Chief

SOUTH PADRE ISLAND, Texas - When I lived in New York and wrote for the sensationalist Post in the early 1990s, I often slept with an attractive Jewish woman who edited copy for the newspaper's Features Desk. As a native Texan, I'd had little experience with Jews and knew them only from what I read in stories or saw on TV. I unfolded my stereotypes, yes. This gal did have a distinctive aroma about her. And her wildish pubic patch was a literal Russian forest, neatly covering the choicest of morsels.

Little by little, she taught me something about her ancestral country and its quirky religion. I believed every word she said, especially when naked. There is something bedazzling about history when it is explained in the nude. All pretensions went down to the floor with my ragged blue jeans and her red panties. Jews, she informed me, had suffered mightily at the hands of Nazi Germany, losing an estimated 6 million of their countrymen to the gas chambers and firing squads. Men, women and children. Blockbuster movies were made. Books were written. Tears were shed. Someone said this sort of misbehavior must never again happen in a civilized world.

Now comes Hollywood.

Acclaimed director Oliver Stone (shown in photo above) says the Nazi exterminations of so many Jews at Auschwitz and other death camps were, well, exaggerations promulgated by Jewish-owned news media outlets across the world. Stone says German madman Adolf Hitler killed more Russians during World War II than Jews, but that the American focus on the Holocaust stems from the "Jewish domination of the media."

Stone issued his bizarre comments in an interview with London's Sunday Times.

He is quoted as saying: "Hitler was a Frankenstein but there was also a Dr Frankenstein. German industrialists, the Americans and the British. He had a lot of support...Hitler did far more damage to the Russians than [to] the Jewish people, 25 or 30 million killed."

And he insists the reason people don't worry so much about the heavy Russian loses is: "The Jewish domination of the media. There's a major lobby in the United States. They are hard workers. They stay on top of every comment, the most powerful lobby in Washington. Israel has fucked up United States foreign policy for years."

He also believes Hitler has been "an easy scapegoat."

Stone of late has acted the imbecile, taking up for nutty Venezuelan strongman Hugo Chavez and pushing the idea that it is American meddling that has Chavez in a tizzy. Who knows about that? But I do know that too many Jews died in the horrible death camps. And if wasn't six million but rather three million, or four million, it's still too damned many. Oliver Stone is on crack with this crap.

I know my former Jewish lover would look me in the eye and tell me, first, that the cruel and heartless Nazis had been murderers and, then, that she loved me enough to endure my desire that she not shave down there. In the end, I relented, picturing myself being too Nazi-like on that front...

- 30 -

GENERATION OF SWINE:...Rumor of Rain, Bad News From Mexico, Queer Day in Brownsville...

By JUAN JONES
Staff Writer

BROWNSVILLE, Texas - It could get dicey for me here. Not enough cats like me, that's for sure. Odd kinda town, queer almost, and you know what they say about the queer, not homosexuals, just the queer, the strange, the bizarre, the rare unknown. Brownsville is queer, queer as in a town in search of a good, mean drunk. Punches aimed at the sheetrocked walls, punches taken on the chin just because, just because. That kinda queer.

This quaint, little, dusty town is my new home, and will be as long as I write for The Tribune.

Who knows? My boss - Cameron County Bureau Chief Stoney Hernandez - said get acquainted with Brownsville for a few hours and then write something about it. First impressions, yeah. It didn't take long. A half-hour into a drive around town and I wanted to get the Hell outta Dodge, as they say in Kansas. Yeah, Cholos, where da Black wimmen at?

No, not anywhere where I could see them. No hoochie-coochie love shacks to my right, no metal-comb-in-your-hair barber shops to my left. Just a long line of taco joints, slouching, bearded, fly-accompanied Vatos in sleeve-less t-shirts mulling about, waiting on an order of - what? - eight/twenty tacos. Big bellied women with eyes like knotholes behind them, waiting on gallons of menudo and other slop. They look rough, like the Black wimmen of the South. Don't be talkin' smack to a heavyset Brownsville broad, is what Stoney had said ahead of my drive. Short, pudgy ones'll slap you upside the knees.

Two dudes in faded-black Charro hats sittin' on the concrete steps of a rooming house south of downtown, a claptrap neighborhood known as Southmost, as in it-don't-get-no-closer-than-this to Mexico. They look Gay. Busy at something queery with their hands.

How do I know?

Some famous novelist said homosexuals have little talent for invention, but they have a wonderful gift for delightful embroidery. Something like that. I forget. Not many Gay Black guys in my hometown of Galveston.

I pull over out front and get out of my ride. One of the dudes rises, squints and focuses hard on me as I walk up the cracked sidewalk toward them. "You lookin' for Malena?" he asks tersely. "She be gone, dude. Not here, you know?"

I shake my head. Don't know any Malena. Not yet.

"Just wondering what you cats are doing," I say in a friendly non-Black Menace voice. "New reporter in town. Touring the community."

"Oh, okay," the heavyset dude says next, lowering his butt to the concrete steps.

"So, what are you workin' on there?"

The skinny, high-necked one looks up from his colorful handiwork and says, "Knitting socks for a baby shower. - you gotta problem with that?"

I did, but I could wait on my first Brownsville fistfight. Instead, I said, "Uh, no," and threw out an adios. They were back on the job like focused worker ants as I pulled away...

- 30 -

[EDITOR'S NOTE:...Writer Juan Jones joined our reporting staff this past weekend. He is a native of Galveston, but has been on staff with The Rocky Mountain News, The Deseret News, The Las Vegas Sun and The Brazosport News. This is his first story for The Tribune...]

EDITORIAL PAGE: Hostile Media Pushes Harlingen Down The Road...And It's A Good Thing...

By PATRICK ALCATRAZ
Editor-In-Chief

HARLINGEN, Texas - Perhaps things here are as people say they are - changing too fast and not fast enough. Cities go through such pains when transitioning from what they've been to what they want to become. Here, in this city of some 75,000 well-off and not-so-well-off denizens, words coming from one sector of the community scream for quicker & quicker change, while an equally vociferous lot yells the opposite in reply. It is, as happens in a story's unfolding plot, sure to be a done deal or - egads! - a cruel conspiracy.

And while it careens from guard rail to center median as it barrels down the proverbial proud highway, Harlingen is hearing the winds of change blow across town like some renegade gust out to plow the geography. Those screams making their way to the printed word in letters-to-the-editor of the Valley Morning Star and to an assortment of pro & con Blogs can no longer be ignored. Little by little, in thin and fat paragraphs, residents have taken sides, some joining the revolution and some holding hard to what is commonly known here as The Old Guard, which is code for The Past.

At first glance, it may seem like just another passing storm dropping tons of rain for a few minutes and then moving on, as was the metaphor for fruitless political upheavals here for decades. But there is rhyme & reason to the brazen posturing by those who want change now. In postings on MyHarlingenNews.com and MyLeaderNews.com, two Blogs at seemingly opposite sides of the fray, residents and curious onlookers have arrived to do battle. And they're both doing their side proud, harsh missives aimed that way and thrown back by the other side in kind. Something is up in Harlingen and the suspicion here is that elected leaders down at City Hall can't make sense of it - not yet anyway. They for the most part have held fire.

Can they dance around the Mulberry Bush much longer?

The betting says no, not when so many hot button issues have now taken center-stage in town. Bloggers, unlike the staid local daily newspaper, like to launch biting salvos at the occupants of City Hall. Change apparently has no time for measuring words, for thinking about whose feelings might be hurt, for road-weary political posturing of the sort residents here have seen for many, many years. Times are tough and much of Harlingen is demanding change. Jobs are scarce. Buildings have gone vacant to the point that downtown looks like a ghost town - in the daytrime. Scandal chases the police department. Politcians say nothing.

Unlike its Cameron County neighbor - Brownsville - downrange, Harlingen at presents counts elected officials who well-know the power of the ballot. The for-sale politiquera system that fuels Brownsville pols has never manifested itself to such a lofty extent here. No, as one sentient resident put it, "Our mayor and city commissioners have gotten the message. We hold the power, and the old way of doing things is about to fade to black. Big time. Too many people are angry this time..."

Until then, those in the community filling the pages of the newspaper and postings on the Blogs will do their Life Impulse. Much is at stake, or at least that's what one discerns from reading the emotional outbursts that fill the Blogs daily. A grenade launched at Mayor Chris Boswell or Commissioner Kori Marra on MyHarlingenNews.com is answered with mortar fire on MyLeaderNews.com. It is a day-long firefight, with anonymous posters leading the way - some not at all interested in facts or civility, others merely wishing to throw mud at this or that public servant. Carnival arcades never have seen this much action.

Life is fluid in today's Harlingen. Things are shakin'. People are pissed. People are itching.

And that's the way it should be in an emerging Democracy...

- 30 -

THE STREETS OF HARLINGEN: City Pondering Creation of A Citizens Commission to Oversee Troubled Police Department...

By STONEY HERNANDEZ
Staff Writer

HARLINGEN, Texas - At least one city leader here is still looking for answers surrounding the curious law enforcement case involving one Carlos Levon Anderson, a 39-year-old karate instructor who was free for days after being indicted on allegations that he had molested a handful of minors.

City Commissioner Robert Leftwich, meeting with Bloggers at a morning breakfast at El Rancho Tex-Mex restaurant, said he would be in favor of creating a Citizens Commission to oversee community police work. Leftwich, rumored to be in the driver's seat to replace fast-fading Mayor Chris Boswell, said he, too, was upset at the way the Anderson mess was handled.

"It could be, it could be," he said when asked if the idea would come before the city commission.

Leftwich voiced what many in town may not know; that is, that Police Chief Danny Castillo answers to the city manager and not the commission. Castillo has been roundly criticized for not availing the community information related to the errant suspect. Anderson is the husband of HPD Lt. Miryam Anderson. Others said the chief acted hastily in handing the case to the Texas Rangers. "Castillo turned over the responsibility to outsiders, when he should've handled it here - in town," said one resident pumping gas at a convenience store. "You think the police chief in McAllen would've done that? Hell no! Our guy is blowing it!"

Castillo has been mum on anything to do with the embarrassing Anderson episode. Anderson has reportedly made bail. His attorney, Noe Garza, is a firm believer in taking the quiet backroads leading to trial, ignoring requests for interviews from the media for himself or his client. Little has been said about the details surrounding the alleged sexual assaults.

Interestingly, Lt. Anderson is reportedly in charge of the HPD's Sexual Crimes Division.

Leftwich was unsure as to when the Citizens Commission idea would come before the council, or exactly how much power it would have, or how many members would be appointed to the group. Asked about the citizens-in-action idea, the guy pumping gas said, "Hell, that's the best Goddamned idea I've heard around here since someone told me the friggin' Confederate Air Force was thinking of leaving town...I'll serve on it. I'll ask the hard questions these commissioners won't ask! I'm there 24-7, man!"

As I pulled out and headed for my office, the heavyset guy was laughing his ass off...

- 30 -     

THE POORBOY DIARIES: How I Came To Love Quick Cash...

By RICARDO KLEMENT
Staff Writer

McALLEN, Texas - They say that making money in the Rio Grande Valley has now overtaken making tacos, that some people are raking-in outrageous amounts of cash. And nowhere has that manifested itself as it has in the sex business, sex as in topless bars, or as they are known in newspaper advertisements relegated to the Sports Page - Gentlemen's Clubs.

Naked fare on stage always has brought good-looking does for fawning customers. A dangle-dangle of an exposed breast  never hurt anyone, goes the industry line. Here, the word in the streets is that those lovelies swaying their wares in local clubs are pretty gals from Mexico way. Does it matter? No, of course not. A guy could welcome a beautiful woman from anywhere in the world, whether it be Cairo, Mumbai, Paris, or the Congo. A guy just could.

Should a patriotic, provincial dude call the U.S. Border Patrol on these joints?

It's just breasts and ass and money, so...ah, naaaaaah.

But it does bring to mind the issue of pay around here, a part of the country not often associated with great salaries - at least not when compared to, say, California.

From the Los Angeles Times: Angry residents of Bell, California are upset that their city's administrators make salaries that don't exactly scream "public servant." They note that City Manager Robert Rizzo is paid $787,637 annually. Police Chief Randy Adams? Try $457,000.

Those are over-the-top, yes. And the Times reporter writes that both have agreed to resign in the face of community outrage. Is it wrong in a capitalistic society to get as much as you can? Isn't that as American as anal sex? Why agonize over what others are getting and not getting? A few years back, someone wanted to buy 100 acres north of Los Fresnos to build the largest topless joint in the hemisphere. It was to have an airplane runway outside and one indoors that would have been long enough to allow for the parading of some 5,000 local women.

It would, yes, have brought a new destination for fun-seeking men and a load of jobs for women, some local, I presume. But it didn't happen. Something about some people being against such an extreme display of wealth and nude women. Would it have hurt anyone? Perhaps not. But had it come to fruition, well, sleepy Los Fresnos would likely look like Las Vegas by now. Money makes more money, is what the Jews like to say.

So, bring on the cash. Bring it. What the Hell? We're close to the end of much we've held dear for many years, in this country and across the world. Money's all that's left to bitch about. Cash is where it's at, Baby. Let the gals undress and shake it till they drop up there. Let me slip a few dollar bills in their thong. The Pope's okay with cash. I'll save some bucks for the collection plate on Sunday morning. I'll buy a candied apple from the little Hispanic kid outside my favorite Tex-Mex restaurant. I'll throw a buck at that homeless guy at the streetcorner. I'll pay for an Ad on some obscure Blog.

I'll give the little woman $100 for her trip to the mall; $50 to my movida just because that's the kind of guy I am; $25 to the gardener; $10 to the barista who hands me my coffee at Starbucks.

As they say more and more around here, "Ees jes mawney..."

- 30 -

[Editor's Note: Writer Ricardo Klement suffers from guilt associated with his family tree in Nazi Germany. We at The Tribune employ him, but do not necessarily agree with his opinion on money, Jews, the Pope, or topless dancers...]

Romancing The Rubes: Actor Edward James Olmos And His Hollywood Pals Hit on Poor Brownsville...

By JUNIOR BONNER
Staff Writer

BROWNSVILLE, Texas - Would you give this man $150,000 to make a film about your high school chess team? That craggy-faced dude is actor Edward James Olmos, once the star of such television shows as Miami Vice, the movie Battlestar Galactica and the other movie, Stand And Deliver. What he's doing in Brownsville is the freakin' mystery.

Well, not really.

Olmos wants the Brownsville Independent School District to chip-in 150 Gs for the making of a glitzy documentary about its much-publicized chess teams. In most of these documentary cases, the full cost is usually borne by the producers. But Olmos seems to think that his group can minimize its financial burden by sucking a hefty contribution from the BISD. If only! Olmos is nuts.

Still, some easily-impressed members of the schoolboard want their superintendent to look into options, with the idea being that BISD can somehow fund the project. Supt. Bruce Springston is against the proposal, saying the BISD just doesn't have the cash Olmos and his group want before proceeding. As the super noted, HBO already did a perfectly neat segment on the local chess wizards, and that did not cost the BISD a penny. The 15-minute segment, on the sports series "Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel," aired June 22. Again: HBO did not hit on BISD for any money.

In making the pitch last February, Olmos and his group - Higher Ground Entertainment and its 501-C nonprofit Foundation for the Advancement of Science and Education (FASE) - even delivered a hip-sounding title for the film - The Kings of Brownsville.

Then there's this to ponder: When he went after his pet project, the young kid who made his well-received documentary on the Border Wall last year told an audience in McAllen that he spent almost $25,000 of his own money, maxing-out all of his and his mother's credit cards while taking small donations from supporters.

Olmos is likely too savvy a Hollywooder for Brownsville. He may just believe he has a community of ignorant rubes on the fishing line. Belay that; he probably knows it.

Get the Border Wall kid. He'll do it for much less...

- 30 -

RUBY TUESDAY: Our Reporter Takes A Few Shots Of Whiskey And Covers A City Commission Meeting...

By RON MEXICO
Staff Writer

HARLINGEN, Texas - The words bounced through the crowd like tractor-sized boulders. "Did she say she was going to kick Lefty's ass?" whispered a blue-haired elderly woman dressed in wrinkled Republican clothing. Receiving the strange question, one rarely heard in council chambers, a man in a Lyndon Baines Johnson Stetson hat said this in return, "Nope, think Kori just told Robert to go stick it up his ass." It was only the beginning of what became the rolling monologue of last night's Harlingen City Commission meeting, Chapter 12, Verse 23.

"Kori just told Commissioner Leftwich that she's way smarter than he is!" gasped another resident in a seat near the front row. "Can you believe it? She had the gumption to say, 'I'm smarter than you!' And Leftwich is just sittin' there, takin' this bullshit from this uppity woman!" To his left, a hefty, white woman with a tattoo of a blue parrot on her upper right arm, turned to tell him: "Why, we simply cannot have that. Lefty is our man up there, and he ought to be confronting that missy. Heavens to Betsy, what is happenin' to Harlingen?"

From the back row came a wild one: "The sheriff is a nigger!"

"What?!" exclaimed a high-necked woman with eyebrows thrown to the ceiling.

"He said the sheriff is near," she heard from someone seated nearby.

And so went the latest episode of the local governmental meeting, now known in town as "Blazing Saddles II," starring, for the most part, Commissioner Kori Marra as the villain and Commissioner Robert Leftwich as the unassuming do-gooder. I covered the meeting for The Tribune, and, Lawdy, Lawdy, Miss Clawdy, I swear I was sitting between a guy who looked strikingly like Lucas McCain to my left and Matt Dillon to my right. Behind me sat an over-dressed sweetheart every man kept calling "Miss Kitty." I dunno, I dunno. This town is going bananas, as Woody Allen might say about here.

After the meeting, this curly-haired dude who looked like Sylvester Stallone in Rambo stopped me to say this: "That is a complete distortion. She (Commissioner Marra) was simply supporting the City Attorney. Yet, Leftwich continued to argue with the both of them. I considered him to be the one way out of line. No question. His anger towards Marra was blatantly obvious."

I inhaled deeply and said, "Hey, who am I to blow against the wind..."

- 30 -

THE DOWN LOW: In Harlingen, It's Silence of The Lambs at City Hall...

By ELIOT ELCOMEDOR

Staff Writer

HARLINGEN, Texas - Someone said they heard it from someone who heard it from someone else that these guys just weren't up to the task of governing, that a sensational case involving local children possibly being molested by a  grown man wasn't about to roust them from their Summer slumber.

We bring you the photos of Mayor Chris Boswell, in red tie, Commissioner Robert Leftwich, in goldish tie, and Commissioner Kori Marra, in Thanksgiving-brown businesswear, so that you get the picture. They said nothing during the saga of Carlos Levon Anderson, husband of Harlingen Police Department Lt. Myriam Anderson. As acknowledged leaders, they all did the Ol' Down Low when push came to shove, when the community sought answers as to why Mssr. Anderson would not turn himself into law enforcement authorities, when word surfaced that he'd been indicted days earlier and nothing had come of it.

Where was Anderson? Where was his city employee spouse? And why was nothing done until the word hit the streets and all Hell broke loose, when things just got too hot for HPD Chief Danny Castillo. He'd handed the ball to the Texas Rangers, believing the mess was too close to home. When the Cameron County District Attorney's office indicted Anderson and he then failed to show-up for his scheduled arraignment, the chief apparently did nothing to help capture him. When Anderson, a karate instructor, finally walked into the county court yesterday to face the music, Chief Castillo issued a namby-pamby press release saying the case had not been his and that his lieutenant - the alleged child molester's wife - was not involved.

Some news reports said the Andersons are estranged and have not lived together for some time. That part of the story should come out out during the trial, as will other info related to the alleged assaults and how Chief Castillo decided the investigation could not be conducted by his department. Lt. Anderson was said to be head of the HPD's Sex Crimes Division. Why Chief Castillo did not merely shift the investigation to another high-ranking officer has not been explained. Proof of criminal wrongdoing is proof, and it would not have been swayed by Lt. Anderson's role in the department.

Still, it is the silence at City Hall that has many in town outraged. Why didn't the mayor, or any city commissioner, speak to the community about the explosive case? Children being sexually abused, as is being alleged here, is never a laughing matter. Yes, it was quirky. And, yes, Mssr. Anderson still has his upcoming day in court, a day that may in the end find him not guilty of some or all of the charges. But you don't simply go home and hide under the blankets, either. Mayor Boswell, or any city commissioner, should summon the chief before the council and ask him to explain his actions in an open forum. Enough is known about this case to lead any citizen into thinking something went horribly wrong.

And just how much is not known? Inquiring minds want to know.

Breakdowns at City Hall are not an option...

- 30 -   

BOND, NO BOND: The Curious Case Of Carlos Levon Anderson...

By JUNIOR BONNER
Staff Writer

BROWNSVILLE, Texas - The man accused of molesting children wasn't interested in the cut & dry dynamic of the courtroom. Carlos Levon Anderson wanted a bond posted, so that he could pay it and go home. Instead, Magistrate Judge Luis Saenz denied the bond.

The 39-year-old Anderson, husband of veteran Harlingen Police Department Lt. Myriam (also spelled Miryam in some press reports) Anderson, called the denial a "travesty." It was a dramatic moment in a case that has roiled Harlingen, where many residents believed some in the HPD were not being forthcoming with any info related to the alleged crimes, the suspect, or the suspect's connection to a high-ranking police officer.

Anderson, shown in photo above, faces indecency with a child, aggravated sexual assault of a child and sexual assault of a child charges born of alleged acts with female students. The karate instructor was listed as a fugitive after failing to appear at a June 29th district court arraignment.

He turned himself in at the Cameron County Jail on Monday afternoon. A non-related Hot Check charge resulting from a 2007 case also was part of today's arraignment. The jailed karate instructor insisted he's not guilty, saying the bond denial was unfair and noting that authorities had not notified him of the indictment properly. Anderson said notices were mailed to an address that was incorrect and not current.

The HPD has distanced itself from the case since Day One, turning over the investigation to the Texas Rangers and the Cameron County District Attorney's office. HPD Chief Danny Castillo also has said Lt. Anderson was not part of the probe. What remained unclear was whether Lt. Anderson had aided - or not aided - authorities in helping find her errant husband. Earlier news report had it the Andersons were estranged...

- 30 -

In Brownsville, A Second Punch Floors Townfolk As Another Blog Checks Out...

"And whosoever was not found written in the 
book of life was cast into the lake of fire." 
- Revelation 20:15

By RON MEXICO
Staff Writer

BROWNSVILLE, Texas - And then there was one. The fast-moving, mysterious Kill-All-Blogs virus moving across this falling town's geography yesterday claimed its second victim - ElRrunRrun.com. No one is talking. Fear spreads by the minute, fear that it won't be long before the town's last daily supplier of meaningless noise - BrownsvilleVoice.com - finds itself on the chopping block.

ElRrunRrun, owner of the worst name in Blogging, left without a published whimper. Its operator, Juan Montoya, said nil, leaving, like the Colts did that cold day in Baltimore a few years back, in the dead of night. Visitors to the site this Ayem were given the Ol' Adios. So long, and thanks for all the tacos. Who's next, seemed to be the one question swimming across town. "Why are we being treated like Vietnamese?" asked a woman walking the downtown sidewalks this morning. "I'm 62, but I'm into blogging. I read El Rocinante for ten years, and now it's gone. ElRrunRun, too. Que demonios vamos a hacer?"

Fans of both sites have been shuffling to Blogs in Harlingen and McAllen, but their contributions have been roundly rejected as being too pedestrian.

"We require a certain intelligence and these people simply do not have it," said Patrick Alcatraz, editor of this Blog. "We have said that to them, but they don't get it. Perhaps that's why Blogs go to die in Brownsville, 'cause they know the audience they'll serve is a collection of bone-dead, cemetery-walkers. Que lastima, absolutely."

ElRrunRrun's rrun lasted a few months. Critics said it took the "neighborhood" approach to news, that it was too-Brown to ever be an effective website, that it forever pushed the Hispanic bent on everything. Still, there are those loyalists who say both ElRrunRun and ElRocinante.com, which vanished earlier this week, are merely taking a break, that all it takes is one internet prompt to get them back in the game.

"Ees way out of character for dees guys to go out dees way," said a reporter for the local daily who requested anonymity...

- 30 - 

[EDITOR'S NOTE:...ElRrunRrun is back. Word is operator Juan Montoya shut the site down overnight in a show of solidarity with ElRocinante editor Jerry McHale. He's apparently had a change of heart...]     

It Was Morning...And El Rocinante Was Still Gone...

By JUNIOR BONNER
Staff Writer

BROWNSVILLE, Texas - News that thousands of Blogs across the country were wiped-out in a bizarre law enforcement sweep left many locals wondering if perhaps that is what's behind the overnight disappearance of ElRocinante.com. Complaints against the crusading Blog that brought you what is known in burlesque as tits & ass were numerous, some coming even from the town's diverse and forever-envious Blogging community. Still, it was a shock.

El Roci, as it is known here to peons, politicians and the few well-to-do, had been a staple for more than 30 years, there competing against every rock-thrower in the community of 120,000 love-starved souls, growing by leaps & bounds in bold content while the town grew itself into what it is now - a metropolitan-sized colonia unrivaled in the Western Hemisphere. Slowly, the town's gasp has moved toward incredulity. How can El Roci be gone, they asked in the laundromats and finance companies and cantinas and tortillerias and used clothing stores and cheap motels. How, Elena? Who did it? (sound it out: Whoooo deeeeed eeeeet?) But gone it is.

Some here took to the brain and said they thought El Rocinante's operator - one Jerry McHale - was merely toying with the poor, that he was re-designing his site and would soon be back. "Ees hees habit," said one resident as he waited for a bus at the bus terminal that would take him to a better place - Falfurrias. "Heee no want to stop. Naught now. He beeeee back..."

Others said yes, he's gone. They opined that it would take too much energy to re-start such a mind-blowing Blog, that McHale simply did not have the desire for such a big job. Johanna Luera, a hairstylist, said this: "Y yo que se? (I have my own opinion). Ese Bato siempre anda chingando! (That guy loves controversy.) Mira, guapo, espera unos dias y despues ven a verme. Te dire todo. (Look, stud, we all have our own fuckin' problems. Why don't you just get the Hell outta here and leave us alone).

And so it went. At one point, we got the idea that people were just shittin' us with their low-rent thoughts. You know, saying stuff we sorta understood and sorta didn't understand. But that disorientation was El Rocinante's style, so we didn't feel out of sorts.

No, people here have lived with rejection and disappointment for centuries. One less free treat won't mean squat around here, or as another resident put it, "Si se puede! (Yes, we hated it!). We walked to our car parked in front of a crowded downtown Tex-Mex cafe, got in, put the transmissson in D after starting the engine and were gone. As Jerry McHale would have said at the first traffic light : "Chinguen su madre todos los Crackers! (I'm Going to Disneyworld!)

- 30 -

BRAINS IN THE VALLEY: Some Say The Region's Chief Problem Is Lack of Education...

By RON MEXICO
Staff Writer

McALLEN, Texas - This town, the City of Palms, long has been seen as the social and economic jewel of the Rio Grande Valley. In a part of the country where life is measured by the brand of automobile you drive and just how often you shine your boots, it is easy to see why McAllen is King of The Valley Hill. Easily-infuenced residents elsewhere in the RGV gleefully look up to McAllen, because their lot in life can be found on the bottom rungs of the status ladder.

Now comes the independent research firm Brookings Institute. The Washington, D.C.-based think tank has released yet another of its popular socio-political lists, this one about which cities in America count the least number of residents with a 4-year college degree.

McAllen, lovely, well-dressed McAllen is up there, counting only 15.1 percent of its citizens walking around with bachelors degrees. At the top of the list is Scranton, Pa. and its 21%. El Paso out west is second with 19.6%. Brookings is headed by Strobe Talbot, a former Deputy Secretary of State in the Bill Clinton Administration. Its focus is in-depth study of all things to do with society in America.

According to its website, "Brookings is proud to be consistently ranked as the most influential, most quoted and most trusted think tank."

Well, who knows? There are days when I fully believe McAllen is utterly stupid and in need of higher education. Drivers moving up and down busy N. 10th Street drive as if just out of prison, as if they know the Rapture is only seconds away. There are smart people in town. The mayor - one Richard Cortez - is a college graduate, yep. The chief of police is a college grad, as is the editor of the newspaper.

And we know the mayor of Harlingen - one Chris Boswell - is a college graduate.

As for the mayor of Brownsville, well...

- 30 -

The Harlingen Bean Dip War: Tony Chapa Was In the Mood For A Fight. Jerry Deal Jabbed At Shadows...

"United we flounder; divided we flounder..." - A resident of Harlingen

By ELIOT ELCOMEDOR
Staff Writer

HARLINGEN, Texas - All was fine until that recent morning, when Jerry Deal posted something Tony Chapa interpreted as being an attack and, well, there went peace & quiet in a town already enjoying the maximum dosage of anti-depressants. And so in the days and weeks that have followed that Deal salvo and a to-be-expected Chapa nuclear response, what this community has seen is the birth of alternative news media mirroring exactly what's wrong with this country. Both have taken sides.

Lost, then, is the chance to band and gang up on city politics so in need of a spanking that the local hardware has placed an order for 74,000 paddles. Here, the town that God forgot, it is not uncommon to walk-up on someone just looking to be paddled. Faces come at you like needy people leaving the tail-end of the government's last free-cheese event. The fear has turned to hate.

Jerry Deal operates MyLeaderNews.com, a pro-business, pro-baseball, pro-Old Guard, pro-Valley Morning Star website. Mssr. Chapa's My HarlingenNews.com, generally takes the opposite approach on most things Mssr. Deal spews, except for the baseball. The two are huge fans of the hometown - and mediocre - Rio Grande Valley WhiteWings. That's where the unity ends, however.

Lately, both have been sniping at each other, setting aside the mission they had in mind when launching their Internet sites, namely, doing right by Harlingen, bringing wrongdoing to the fore, demanding accountability from city leaders. Mssr. Chapa has not strayed from that mindset. His longtime friend, however, silenced his guns as they apply to several members of the Harlingen City Commission, mainly ghost-like Mayor Chris Boswell and controversial Commissioner Kori Marra. In Deal's eyes, these two can do little wrong. For Chapa, Boswell and Marra are the very models of what keeps the city down. He lashes them daily and, by mid-afternoon, Mssr. Deal posts his counterpunch.

In the end, they help no one.

The lingering result is that Harlingen remains paralyzed, the one-string puppet of a handful of its elected officials. Recent statistical data to do with growth has not been kind to Harlingen. It is on a freefall out of the Rio Grande Valley's Top 10 cities, where once it claimed the Number 3 slot - behind McAllen out west and Brownsville downrange.

The coming week again brings an opportunity for claiming the city sledgehammer. A myriad of issues swirl over, through and around this community - any of which can further cripple the city's reputation. "We are beyond being the laughingstock of the Valley," said a resident getting a haircut at a downtown barbershop. "We are now the Fallujah of Texas, the Da Nang, the New Matamoros. Look at us. Everyone of us is wearing the look of despair. Will our politicians save us from ridicule? No. It'll take Batman to do that..."

At their smoking keyboards, Tony Chapa and Jerry Deal stay with the ceaseless personal bombings, each seemingly hellbent on destroying the other, both oblivious to the larger task at hand...

- 30 - 

For I-Me-Mine Veterans, The Time Has Come to Shut Up...

By PATRICK ALCATRAZ
Editor-In-Chief

LA FERIA, Texas - A weird judge in Colorado yesterday threw out a case involving a man who had told friends, family and everybody he met that he was a war hero, that he had all kinds of medals of valor and deserved heaps of thanks from a country slow to show its gratefulness.

Here's what happened: The judge decided the brazen fake vet was merely exhibiting his right to free speech, and so he ruled the existing law against lying about military service as being unconstitutional.

The man's name is Rick Glen Strandlof, resident of Denver. He claimed to be an ex-Marine who served - and was wounded - in Iraq. For his service, Strandlof said he was awarded the Purple Heart and Silver Star. When a check was made, it was discovered that the military had no record of his service. Strandlof was then charged with violating the Stolen Valor Act, which makes it a crime punishable by up to a year in jail to falsely claim to have won a military medal.

That's just one problem America's vets have these days. They're mad, as they have been for years. Is it because their service is often ignored, set-aside and then here come these guys - politicians, included - who steal their thunder under false pretenses. Faking service has been around since the first time soldiers trudged off to war. It is the coward's way of re-writing his personal history.

But, you know, it does upset me when I hear veterans in the Rio Grande Valley forever griping about not having a V.A. hospital in the region. They get no-questions-asked coverage from the area's press whenever they ask for it. They get support in letters-to-the-editor of all RGV newspapers. On national holidays, they are the first to march into the streets in faded military garb from the Vietnam Conflict or Gulf War I, always graying men with looks that say they survived the vicious Tet Offensive in Vietnam, or the initial charge into the Iraqi desert under Bush I.

Yet, I don't get too worked-up about their bitching. It strikes me that things would likely go better for them if only they would tone down their me-me-me rhetoric. Perhaps they do need a hospital in the RGV. And perhaps they do need more benefits. But, dang it, so do a lot of other people here.

So you served in the Army...well, does that mean that the taxpayer is on the hook for whatever these veterans want from here on out? Hell no! Most of them get disability paychecks. All of them have access to medical clinics. What's the Big Deal? Yeah, I agree with those who say real veterans of the military generally do not gripe about anything. They hate to talk about war because they do not wish to glorify war. War is Hell, and they know that, yeah, you'd have had to have been there to freakin' understand.

So the next time you hear a veteran telling you about his many exploits along the Ho Chi Minh Trail, tell him to shut up already...

 - 30 -

Of Male & Female Politics, A Strange Police Drama and El Corrido De Harlingen...

By ELIOT ELCOMEDOR
Staff Writer

HARLINGEN, Texas - They say a town's sophistication rests in the hands of its leaders. The world of "right" versus "wrong" is something that has to be established early-on in the life of a community. Fail to do it and you have the mess that is Brownsville.

Here, the long week ends with the story of a high-ranking policewoman and her husband, a karate instructor accused of playing games with children, or, as they say in TV law & order dramas, the cat is alleged to have gone full-sexual on local kiddoes. And still, even after being indicted weeks ago, someone named Carlos Anderson walks freely.

"One would think," said a woman at a coffee shop here, "...that the chief of police would wring that woman's neck and get her to tell him where the Hell her husband is hiding." The officer's name is Myriam Anderson. She is a lieutenant on the under-achieving force and reportedly a very good ally of Chief Danny Castillo.

As the sun will set here today, the word in the streets will be that the good people of Harlingen are not taking this well. They openly wonder why the chief doesn't act on the indictment, why he doesn't grab Ms. Anderson by the ear and force her to lead him to her husband. Yet, no high-ranking city official - not Mayor Chris Boswell or any of the city commissioners - has called for an explanation.

The local BlogWorld has of late focused its energies - pro and con - on City Commissioner Kori Marra, her critics blasting her at every turn and her backers firing back in kind. This, said another resident, would be the perfect time for Ms. Marra to go public with her desire to clean up this one-horse town.

"If she straps her six-gun on and goes after the chief, she'll make a million points in Harlingen," said a woman shopping for vegetables at a grocery store. "She can do it. She can scold the chief into doing something. That man has to be humiliated to do anything."

In a part of the world where women haven't always been handed the reins to the political stagecoach, Ms. Marra may be feeling the pressure that comes when issues-of-the-day go from creating a mere senior citizens board to upbraiding a recalcitrant chief of police. Not that she's alone. Commissioner Robert Leftwich, a pretender to the mayoral throne, has remained mum. Our take is that it is Ms. Marra or Mr. Leftwich who must stand up to the chief. They are the acknowledged future of city politics and both must bite the bullet and take a shot a resolving a sticky situation. And they must act quickly.

Already, the rest of the Rio Grande Valley wonders what the Hell is up with Harlingen.

"It threatens to become a freakin' corrido," said a resident of McAllen. "They write those kinds of songs for the drug dealers. It wouldn't surprise me if someone didn't write El Corrido de Harlingen..."

- 30 -

BAD DAY AT BLACK ROCK:...No Fun At El Rocinante As Things Go Haywire...

"I love Hell. I can't wait to get back..." - Malcolm Lowry

By MATS CONTRERAS
Special to The Tribune

BROWNSVILLE, Texas - My brother, Estanislado, wasn't going to take the bullshit he was getting from Jerry McHale. ElRocinante.com was down and Estanislado couldn't get it out of his head that his best-ever poem was gone - erased into Outer Space when his computer crashed. "We're freakin' down, man!" McHale had been screaming, his face reddened by the realization that his popular Blog had vanished from one moment to the next.

"That was going to be my masterpiece!" the 67-year-old Estanislado yelled back. "And I don't have any notes! Goddammit! - do you know what you've done?!"

Day had broken nicely, with the sunlight arriving via the eastern windows of the old office. Oralia Legumbre, the fake-blonde receptionist, had gone about her duties of brewing a pot of coffee, dispensing the pan dulce to the writers and setting the temperature thermostat on 78 degrees, as McHale had ordered soon after the last utility bill had popped-in bearing a charge of $456.89.

"It was to be titled Oedipus Chuco," Contreras said for the umpteenth time, to no one in particular. Across the room sportswriter Max Maxwell played with his pipe and then stuck his hands in the pockets of his dusty-gray sportscoat. He'd said little of the website's demise. Next to him sat Hassin Bin' Laid, the token Arab on the staff and a man who often wrote about how bad the Tex-Mex diet of tamales, tacos, enchiladas and menudo was for all Human Beings. "I was working on my first piece on Brownsville politics," he said now. "It was  a tale of love and betrayal, of sex with animals and more sex."

He was the one who had held Estanislado Contreras when Contreras had lunged at McHale out of full-out anger. Bin' Laid, a passive, bald man known to blow bubbles when in the office, had managed to stop the fight, but Contreras had landed an overhand right and McHale had gone down, perhaps his muscles remembering an earlier short-lived career as a boxer.

"I'm going home," they'd heard from Oralia at mid-morning. "Someone call me when we're back in business. There's a short dress I've been shopping for and maybe I'll go to McAllen, where they have nice clothes."

Maxwell had said his goodbye, as had Bin' Laid. Contreras ignored it all. He had his brain on the lines in his poem, fashioning some imagery from memory and making notes on a legal pad. His face showed the sort of disappointment only men with erectile dysfunction know. He sat back on the old swivel chair and mouthed a few of the words he remembered.

And then he lurched forward and slammed his greasy fist on the battered desk in his cubicle.

"This totally sucks!" he screamed at the ceiling, his chest blown-out like some guy who's gotten too much air during mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. A blackbird landing noisily on the window sill outside startled him and Estanislado instinctively reached for his dictionary, flinging it through the glass and putting the coda on the well-hipped Oralia's slamming of the office's front door and the frustration that had filled the enterprise.

"Laters, bro," he heard from a departing Max Maxwell...

- 30 -

In Ever-Dramatic Brownsville, El Rocinante Website Takes A Hit...

By PATRICK ALCATRAZ
Editor-In-Chief

BROWNSVILLE, Texas - Back in the early-1980s, when I spent a long year writing for the local newspaper, Jerry McHale took an ill-advised fight at the Boy's Club against a younger, stocky Golden Gloves boxer from Mercedes. The result was what would have been expected - a one-punch, first-round knockout. After the fight, he looked at me and said, "All I remember was being on my back and looking up to see you standing over me." He never fought again.

Now, McHale has been knocked-out once more.

This time, it is his Blog that's on the canvas. As he put it in a morning Email to yours truly: "Google has disabled me. To nobody's surprise, content violation. Do a story and have some fun. I have the best webmasters in the RGV working frantically to restore ER. I just want the three readers to know that we're down, but not out."

The ER he speaks of is ElRocinante.com, a no-holds-barred website that began as a political watchdog and ended up as a pseudo-porno site where readers were treated to big plates of local political gossip sprinkled with salad photos of erect penises hanging off strapping male models and hairy vaginas fronting a long string of lovely lasses. Complaints came fast and furious, is what McHale will say. It thrilled him to spank his community daily, and it did tickle a few of his readers - mostly unemployed men with long histories of involuntary celibacy.

It'll be back. It'll be back and he'll be angrier than ever. That is the way of the outlaw, and Jerry McHale always has been a rebel posing as a journalist, a man true only to himself, a citizen out to throw sand and mud and shit at every politician interested in a low-flying stab at public service. If ever a town has been satisfied by cyber-sex, it is Brownsville. McHale has bent it forward and backward and taken it from atop, the back, the side and left it with its mouth full-open, always asking for more.

So, for today at least, the entire town takes a seat and breathes easily. There will be no website offering damnations. There'll be no story about the under-achieving City Commissioner Charles Atkinson or his wedgie-pants and flying-skirt brethren at City Hall. There'll be no color photograph of hanging, supple breasts on some goregous dame. Yep, Brownsville is taking a long-awaited break.

It's the first one in 30 years...

 - 30 -

[Editor's Note: This site, like ElRocinante, is availed by Blogger.com. It has the right to pull the plug on any Blog violating its policies...]      

FIRE & RAIN: In The Rio Grande Valley, A Killer Scorch Always Follows A Thunderstorm...

By JUNIOR BONNER
Special to The Tribune

PORT ISABEL, Texas - They say there isn't much life left in the freakin' sunball overhead. They say it'll soon run out of whatever fuels it. They say we're in for another Ice Age real soon. They say it's getting hotter and hotter with each passing day. They say Global Warming is here, and it's here to stay. And, man, do I feel it.

Today, it has to be 110-in-the-shade.

At a store the other day, I saw a heavyset woman stocking up on bottled water. She must've had three cases in the shopping cart and I heard her ask a wandering employee about the next shipment. She'd taken the last three 24-packers. At the taco cafe later in the day, I overheard a portly, mustachioed guy tell a waitress his lemonade was too lemony, and that it was too hot for too-lemony lemonade. On my way out, I saw a dog with its tongue sweeping the steaming asphalt. Across the street, a mailman wore a handkerchief under his company hat as if to not wear it would bring instant death.

As Bruce Springsteen might say, "Oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire..."

But it's that time of the year. We're in the middle of the freakin' annual Summer Scorch - a time when many in the tropical Rio Grande Valley look like walking tamales, their furrowed brows carrying enough sweat to soak eyebrows so they look like fattened worms. I don't know about you, but I'm staying inside. I'm having my girlfriend over and we're hitting the shower from 1 p.m. til sunset. It's the only way we'll survive this heat. I know it.

Stay cool, my friends...

- 30 -  

BLINDED: The Case Against Our Sweet & Lovely Tara...

"In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups: the police, who investigate crime, and the district attorneys, who prosecute the offenders. These are their stories..." - Law & Order

By RON MEXICO
Staff Writer

SOUTH PADRE ISLAND, Texas - As night fell, a woman stole silently into a popular seafood eatery here, the noise of flapping seagull wings arriving with every gust of island breeze. From light coming off a rusting stanchion pole in a corner of the now-vacant parking lot, she could see the seagulls lowering themselves onto a slice of Texas Toast someone had flung out some vehicle's window, the hungry seagulls doing it in neat helicopter-like landings. It was a quiet Monday night. Everyone was home in bed as midnight neared. Word moving across town seemed to center on another woman most in town knew simply as Tara, to the newspapers and feds as Dr. Tara Rios-Ybarra.

They knew her well, since her days here and her days in Austin, where she served them as a state representative in the Texas Legislature. They'd heard the gossip, the many rumors that openly said Tara was messing with a married man, messing with him while being married herself. On days when island business sank with the sun, it was all anybody talked about. Then the story burst forth in longform on the pages of The Valley Morning Star. It was a rip-snorter of a story. There was the tale of the day in black & white, in quotes, in quotes from Tara herself. Not since Elizabeth Taylor had brushed aside the actor Eddie Fisher for one Richard Burton in Hollywood had such a tale come full-circle. Only, South Padre is a small community. Like the seagulls coming in for a snack, it, too, struggles to exist on crumbs from obnoxious tourists who want things on the cheap just because the island is so close to Mexico. The salacious tales of sex and betrayal swelled, fueled by exaggeration born from boredom and spite.

And so, there went Tara to Austin, where she served and reportedly served well. Until she lost the party's primary earlier this year, when her constituents decided a representative with her romantic baggage was not in their script. Tara Rios-Ybarra remains in the legislature until the next election and that'll be that. Still, as the night grew to become the domain of a swarm of hungrier mosquitoes, there was yet more to the story.

Rios-Ybarra was next indicted in connection with a Medicaid fraud case that caught a handful of other dentists in its web, caught them playing games with the federal welfare program and with the region's poor, the latter an unforgiveable sin in this part of the world.

The young dentist who had flirted-away her marriage and her career in politics now stood literally naked before a no-nonsense federal judge, her latest gasp being a request to the same judge that he allow her to keep working the profitable Medicaid program. It's about the patients, her lawyer argued. They need her, he said. They were doing without dental care while she fought for her professional life. She was seemingly only a rung, perhaps two, on the ladder from the bottom, from total ruination.

Her answer, from the judge, would come later today. The constituency she had enjoyed had already rendered its verdict in the voting booth...

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[Editor's Note: Rios-Ybarra, a Democrat, was charged with three counts of making payments to a non-licensed physician. The felony charges allege involvement in a kickback scheme led by McAllen oral surgeon Gary Morgan Schwarz. He's accused of paying four Valley dentists - one of them Tara - to refer him Medicaid patients...]

In Harlingen, Fear of Fear Driving Letter-Writers Toward Insanity...

By ELIOT ELCOMEDOR
Special to The Tribune

HARLINGEN, Texas - Okay, we're hip to the concept of  free speech and all that jazz, but, boys, there has to be a limit to the stupidities. And nowhere do these inanities surface more than in Letters-To-The-Editor of the Rio Grande Valley's newspapers. Invariably, even in this lovely shank of tropical lands, one or two silly missives find themselves in the pages of the RGV's three Freedom Newspapers.

One popped-up in today's Valley Morning Star - a long-winded mess of a letter credited to someone named Erol A. Stone, said to be a resident of this breadth-gasping, oft-whipped community of 75,000 abandoned souls.

In ranting against President Obama, Mssr. Stone treated readers - with the help of the newspaper's Opinion Page editor, of course - to a ridiculous assertion that the United States is going full-Muslim. What a crock of unrefined feces this Stone dude lobs at his own community.

He wrote, at the end of a long letter that for sure will bring him much embarrassment unless he is three years old: "We must begin now to push back, forcefully, against those who would bring ruination upon this great land. Contrary to President Obama’s assertion, America is indeed a nation founded on the Judeo-Christian ethic. It is not an Islamic nation. To keep pushing it at us will only strengthen our resolve to resist it, and hasten the day when we bury it."

Oh, boy. Where are the men in white suits when you need them. We laugh heartily at this poor Stone individual, but also wonder what the Hell is wrong with the Valley Morning Star when it publishes such mindless drivel. Is there no standard at the Star? Do they merely "go" with what's submitted, no matter the silliness?

America is as close to becoming a Muslim nation as the Muslim nations are close to becoming full Democracies. Any editor at The Star surely knows that. No, what is left here is the clear image of citizen Erol A. Stone living in freakin' fear of fear itself. Do you - like we - picture him alongside his 1950s refrigerator, cowering naked while believing every little noise is a foreign threat, every passing truck the carrier of well-armed Arabs? Someone drive over to his place and deliver a buttered croissant and cup of Joe to this lonely gent. And drop-off a case of Mexican beer to the boys in the Valley Morning Star's newsroom - they need a jolt of reality over there on Commerce Street...

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The Mother of All Blogs: Jury Weighs Content...Will Render Verdict By Week's End...

By PATRICK ALCATRAZ
Special to The Tribune

PORT ISABEL, Texas - A jury of noted media professionals journeyed here from across Texas to begin a weeklong study of Rio Grande Valley blogs. Meeting at the Port Isabel Yacht Club, the group of twenty-two judges expects to render its Top Blog verdict by week's end, said Paul Harasim, a well-known journalist from Houston who is chairing the group.

In the running for the title are this blog - The Tribune - and two rowdy Blogs from Harlingen, MyHarlingenNews.com and MyLeaderNews.com, along with the fourth finalist, ElRocinante.com of Brownsville. In the Second Banana category are the blogs, ElRrunRun and BrownsvilleVoice.

"We've got a long week ahead of us," said Harasim as he sat at the hotel's bar with fellow judges Steve Solo-Olafson, a former Houston Chronicle reporter, and Diane Freeman, formerly of The Houston Post. "We're poring over archives of all the involved Blogs and keeping an eye on what they're doing this week. So far, it's a toss-up as to who will win the big award."

The Tribune is the youngest of the group. Harasim characterized it as "a valuable resource for any community. Its seriousness of purpose is obvious." About MyHarlingenNews.com, Harasim said, "It is a feisty Blog interested in hitting after the bell has sounded to end a round." About MyLeaderNews.com, he said, "I see a lot of baseball on there, so that may hurt it in the end." As for El Rocinante, Harasim went on at-length before saying, "It sucks the air out of you with all that porno, but the blogs's central message, its raison d'etre, is the stuff of free speech, a winner in most media relevance contests."

El Rrun Rrun, a neighborhood news-driven blog, is seen as slightly ahead of BrownsvilleVoice.com, mainly, said Judge Solo-Olafson, "because I detect a clear whiney tone to BV's content, while El Rrun Rrun, perhaps the absolutely worst name I have ever seen for a blog, banks on detail many would say is boring when looked-at by the entire community. The fact that it is too Pro-Brown, Hispanic, keeps it from competing for the main award."

An awards banquet sponsored by The Tribune is planned for mid-August at the Havana Club in McAllen...

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