HARLINGEN BLUES

I'm leavin' dis town

Da Lord's callin' me forth

I'm leavin' dis town

Da Lord's callin' me forth

You won't be hearin' my sound

Cause I'm headin' north

Gringos been treatin' me bad

Ain't gonna take dis shit no mo'

Gringos been treatin' me bad

Ain't gonna take dis shit no mo'

Harlingen hung my poor dad

Round his neck dey tied a bow

I've had it with dese Teskins

I'm takin' da bus to Chicago

I've had it with dese Teskins

I'm takin' da bus to Chicago

Rednecks hate us Meskins

Should of left long time ago

THE THRILL OF WRITING

I don't know the motivation behind becoming a writer except the impact I experienced when I was sports editor at the Herald and the head football coaches were threatening to kick my ass because I would refuse to write that the kids played hard and showed heart in their 50-0 losses week after week. 

I saved the sword in my pen for the incompetent coaches whom I stabbed through the heart with their bonehead calls. At 26 in 1977 I found seeing my name at the top of my regular column thrilling as I defied these machos. It was a mismatch between intelligence and stupidity.

I still find it invigorating when I feel that I have written something special and unique. Unlike an athlete who is finished before he even reaches the half-way point in a normal life span, I feel like I'm just hitting my stride at 70 in the year 2020.

ALONE

I often talk about going to Portugal and staying for an indefinite period of time. Claudia has said it would be wonderful if she and Michael were with me. After our short stay at the Island, it wouldn't work.

They have constant needs, beginning with eating. They also demand incessant entertainment. No poetry would flow from my pen if I had to deal with their demands every day.

I want to be in small apartment or a hotel room with a balcony that overlooks Lisbon or Coimbra or Porto or wherever I decided to stay. I want peace and quiet so I can think, write, read, study and strum my guitar. I could not pursue these amusements if I had to attend to Claudia and Michael.

Michael would be impossible. He would be bored out of his mind. Sitting in a cafe and sipping coffee would not qualify as fun. I might register him in a gym, but exercising would hardly fill his day. As I said at the beginning of this paragraph, he would be impossible. It would be one complaint after another until the hellhole Brownsville would seem like heaven to him.

Claudia would be tolerable, but she would wear on my nerves just dealing with her next meal. She is also the type of person who wants to do and see things at a much quicker pace than I care to move. The two nights at the Island convinced me that I would be miserable.

Of course, I sound like someone who hasn't won the lottery but is fighting with different family members over every one's portion. With Coronavirus casting its dark shadow over us, I may not escape its lethal presence or its ramifications in my daily life.

For one, Portugal won't allow any Americans into the country. Perhaps, there are other destinations. I don't know. I'm not interested in going to Africa or Asia. I have limited my imagination to Europe and South America and to the best of my knowledge we aren't welcomed in any of these countries.

It may be my destination to remain incarcerated with Claudia and Michael in our house for years. It is a comfortable existence because we retire to different rooms and I comfortably pursue my interests. But if my destination were to lead me to extended stays elsewhere, I would have to go alone if I wanted to enjoy myself. Otherwise, I would be miserable. It is sad to brush aside my family, but as Trump said in a recent interview about the 170,000 COVID deaths, "It is what it is."

THE PIGS ARE IN THE STREET

A poet once wrote, "I wasn't going to write any more poems like this, but the pigs are in the streets."

Two young men have returned home dead. A Brownsville boy was laid to rest a few weeks ago. These soldiers were hailed as heroes. Why are they heroes? Is the government using the term "hero" to brainwash its subjects? Shouldn't heroes be the products of heroic crusades? What is heroic about Afghanistan and soldiers manning strategic locals all over the world? Is our imperialistic nation establishing bases within easier reach of the oil fields? Our soldiers aren't dying to save our democracy. They are dying to save our economy.

I have little confidence in our government protecting either our democracy or our economy. Our politicians spew their nationalistic and religious rhetoric, but I have neither trust nor faith in them. Their present and past records speak for themselves. Since the days of Carter, the oil producing countries of the Middle East have served us notice that they will squeeze our balls tighter and tighter as long as we remain addicted to their black heroin.

There is no difference when it comes to the Democrats and the Republicans. The fate of the transnational companies is more important to them than their own citizens. They don't love their country. They love the firms that put money into their pockets and take care of their families and friends.

I was raised during the Vietnam War. My parents said I would betray the family if I joined the military. I had no desire to join the military. When I was a teenager, the losers joined the military. I didn't know one person of the 55,000 who died in that war precipitated by paranoia and propaganda. I didn't know one person who joined the military. The veterans returning from overseas and joining us in college classrooms congratulated us on our good sense.

They said that a bunch of gooks weren't worth the ultimate sacrifice. They did say that the dope was great and the pussy was greater. They said that when you ate a Vietnamese chick and brought her to a climax, it was like a dam breaking in your face. It was an image that has stuck with me. There were also the Thailand tales. I have lived a life of sexual frustration deprived of those carnal experiences.

A week didn't go by in those days that a local boy didn't die blown to bits in a rice paddy, but the unlucky victim was white trash or barrio basura or ghetto black. The middle class boys attending school may have found smoking dope and fucking gals closer to home less exciting, but it was much safer. The great thing about the Vietnam War were the demonstrations in the Bay Area. They were a perfect excuse for smoking more dope and fucking more gals.

I have told my sons I would disown them if they joined the military. They have replied that they would disown me if I attempted to convince them to join the military. The volunteer military is a scam. The government knows that a military filled with middle-class boys wouldn't tolerate the farces and fiascoes that are our foreign intrigues. There would be riots in every major U.S. city demanding immediate withdrawals from Afghanistan if Ricardo Adobatti's children were on the next transport plane deploying them. Intelligent people recognize dead-end endeavors.

The government has decided to exploit the ignorant instead. These under-educated individuals face dreary futures. There are no good-paying jobs. There are no exits from their trailer parks or barrios or ghettos. The military is their only option. The military sends poor whites, browns and blacks to recruit more poor whites, browns and blacks to do Uncle Sam's dirty work. The army, navy, air force and marines call killing the fanatics in the Middle East and Muslim Asia and African their patriotic duty. How many more years and how many more deaths before we will have fulfilled our patriotic duty?

Who in his right man can have confidence in our Democrats and Republicans to resolve our foreign and domestic woes? The puppeteers are manipulating the marionettes while those free of strings stand quietly on the sidelines and say nothing as long as they don't have to risk life and limb in the fray.

These recent deaths and the hundreds if not thousands who preceded them didn't die for our freedoms. Our freedoms aren't at stake in Afghanistan. Quite the contrary. We are risking our freedoms in Afghanistan because we are weakening ourselves in these vain endeavors. The weaker the country, the fewer the freedoms.

As much as we dislike the people of Afghanistan, their denizens hate us more. We are hated throughout the world for our self-deceiving love. But hate is a part of the human condition. It is the reason the violence never ceases.

How do we resolve these bloody situations? In the same manner we would take out a killer in a neighborhood. We descend upon the target with our sophisticated weaponry and overwhelming numbers. In Afghanistan we unleash our might and attack with our special forces. We eliminate as much of the enemy as possible and raze their facilities. Then we exit. Blow them back to the Middle Ages.

Enough with the ideologies. Keep it simple. We punish those who commit crimes against us, but this fixation with nation building on the part of both Democrats and Republicans makes no sense when our own nation's infrastructure is crumbling.

I don't like writing columns like this, but the dogs are in the street. I seldom pontificate on national or international issues. This is not my strength. Tip O'Neill said all politics were local and that's where I feel most comfortable. But how can I remain silent when I think that my sons might be cannon fodder? I don't want to receive their dead bodies draped in flags to cover up the wrong-doing.

Our government has no qualms about abusing the good intentions of our young men and women for a bad cause. Iraq and Afghanistan and Iran and North Korea are bad causes. How long will we allow our good people to be duped into bad causes? Three young men are being laid to rest for the most honorable of intentions. That is the reason for their heroism. Their hearts were pure, but they didn't realize that they were nothing more than cogs in a machine that has spit them out.

How many more ignorant white, brown and black bodies will the machine spit out? Those figures won't include the best and the brightest. They know better. Their parents know better. Rather than the military, the universities are recruiting these boys and girls. The day the military dares recruit college kids, that day will be the beginning of our endless wars.

And Trump who vowed that we would cease chasing our tails? Like all the shit he vomits, puro pedo el vato!!!

NO MERCY POR ESTE PUTO

He is not my president. He is not our president. He is, though, our enemy. Nobody represents a greater threat to the United States than this megalomaniac monster. He reminds me of the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz with his hair like straw and his brainless head. He is such a repulsive creature that his wife won't sleep in the same room with him, let alone allow him in her bed. As an unhappy woman, she does her best to maintain a stoic face. She'll take his money, but it will be a cold day in hell before she calls him honey. And since his wife has cut him off, he hasn't known a minute of peace; he can't cheat on her with another piece. As the Pied Piper of this country, only the rats follow him. The 66 million Americans who voted against him as opposed to the 63 million who voted for him take solace in knowing that his life is a concatenation of one miserable moment after another.

LEAST WE FORGET

Many politicians are pieces of shit. I have fought them for years in Brownsville and Cameron County, but Trump is the epitome of human excrement. Add one more letter and he evolves from evil to the devil. How can you respect a man who brags that he could grab your wife's private parts or shoot your son dead in broad daylight and escape punishment? And these are only the most outlandish of his outrages. As a Christian, how can you support and approve of such a monster who makes even Lucifer blush? Don't give me that crap that Democrats are the same in order to excuse his behavior. I have voted Republican several times in Cameron County because they were the better candidates. But regardless of party affilication, Trump remains a disgrace to the human race.

WHORE TRUMP FUCKS US

DONALD "DICK" TRUMP: "The survival of our nation is at stake."

(EDITOR'S NOTE: For a man who according to The Washington Post has told more than 20,000 lies since taking office as president, he has finally spoken a truth. And it's a profound one. When he says that the "survival of our nation is at stake" this November, he is absolutely right. Four more years of Trump's treachery and treason and he will have deposited us on the trash heap of history. A people can't survive on hate. He has filled us with a hate for him and he has filled his followers with a hate for us. There are those who argue that he has so weakened us with division that he has made us more susceptible to COVID 19, to an economic downturn and to civil unrest. These are the manifestations of the disease that he has visited upon us. He is infecting us with a contagion for which there is no cure except the total excision of this malignant tumor. Who are these Americans who support him? How did he contaminate them or are they the descendants of a racist South that in the name of God and with a Bible held high over their heads as Trump did recently for a photo op betrayed the United States of America to keep blacks in chains? Do Confederate ghosts haunt these zombies who act no differently than Nazis following Hitler? They won't wear masks to protect their fellow man against Coronavirus, but they don't think twice about donning their KKK hoods and marching through cities with flaming torches thrust into the air. These are Trump's people. By bringing out the worse is us, he is using hate to recruit his fascist legions. I can understand millionaires and billionaires flocking to his side. By making them richer with the common man's taxes, they reciprocate by making him richer. Everybody understands a quid pro quo. Even the poor are sympathetic to the practice, but there is a huge difference between taking a slice of the pie and taking the entire pie. I have to stop or the strumpet Trump will have me ranting and raving, blathering, stuttering incoherently. I can only look at the numbers: COVID has collected 174,000 American lives with 5,600,000 testing positive. We have four percent of the world's population, yet 25% of the COVID deaths. Thousands of businesses have permanently closed. Unemployment is in double figures. There is no reason to believe that this reality is going to change before the November election. There is a greater possibility that the situation could worsen rather than improve. Taken together, Trump has to find himself in the mired in the minus column. With 77 days until the day of reckoning, Biden has slightly more than 200 sure electoral votes. He needs to reach 270 to prevail. Trump has barely more than 100 votes. In the six battleground states that Trump won in 2016 to shock Clinton, he is trailing in five and is ahead by one percentage point in the other according to the latest polling. Texas, Ohio and Georgia, in which he triumphed easily four years ago, Biden is breathing down his neck. The Democrat couldn't have a rosier scenario, but all political junkies know that the petals can quickly wither and the flower rapidly turns to dust in the dirt that once gave it life. Talking numbers, there is one number that is nothing short of nightmarish--four more years of this whore fucking us!!!

HERALD RIPS ELIZONDO

THE BROWNSVILLE HERALD: "Carlos A. Elizondo, the indicted former Brownsville Fire Chief and former board vice president, who also was defeated in the last election, is running for Position 7 on the board, the seat currently held by Sylvia P. Atkinson, who declined to run for reelection. Elizondo’s case, which charges him with one count of theft by a public servant and one count of misapplication of fiduciary property, is pending."

(EDITOR'S NOTE: It isn't often that The Brownsville Herald prints the abject truth about anyone, but the dying daily couldn't refrain from keeping silent when the ignominious Carlos "El Cobarde" Elizondo is attempting to resurrect his political career on the backs of teachers and students. As the newspaper pointed out in no uncertain terms, the electorate sent Elizondo packing two years ago when he sought reelection to the BISD board. The fired Brownsville fire chief, who attracts felony charges like Brad Pitt attracts female glances, has still not recovered from the embarrassment of finishing third in a three-person field. Elizondo--who knows what he's drinking or smoking--believes he can defeat retired policeman Eddie Garcia. The latter was appointed to the board as a replacement for Erasmo Castro whose hijinks forced his to hightail it from office. A Joe Biden type, Garcia is a moderating force who seeks quiet compromise. He is willing to take one step back as long as he moves two steps forward in exchange. On the other hand, Elizondo is an irascible fellow who operates as a Matamoros macho bullying Brownsville denizens. His bad breath betrays him. People turn their heads in disgust and the desperate 98-pound weakling then resorts to backstabbing to achieve his insidious ends. Nobody has forgotten his unforgiveable transgression of secretly taping a fellow politician. His sins are too many to list, but it is safe to say that he would have to spend all day saying Our Fathers and Hail Marys after kneeling for three hours in a confessional pleading for mercy for his countless sins. Why is the Herald calling out Elizondo? There comes a time when the evidence is so overwhelming it can no longer be ignored. The editorial staff, in an attempt to restore a modicum of its lost credibility, is telling its declining readership that following Elizondo is as dangerous as following Trump. These are cold-hearted men with souls of stone.) 

HYSTERICAL BROWNSVILLE

A spiritual man once remarked that a land often reflects its people. Brownsville is a dry, dusty, barren bordertown. Debris sweeps along downtown's dead streets. A muddy furrow remains where a great river used to run.

Poor people flood the city. There are more persons rummaging through trash bins than there are pedestrians window-shopping. Corruption corrodes the system. Those few in power raid the government coffers--city, county, college, school district, port--for their benefit.

Brownsville is without hope despite The Brownsville Herald's best efforts to promote the Chamber of Commerce propaganda instead of printing the dire truth.

There are no role models for the youth as a bevy of bitches and bastards combine the bloodthirsty and brutal appetites of sharks and piranhas and tear the taxpayers limb from limb.

The faithful turn to the Catholic Church for succor and refuge, but instead encounter prurient priests--preying on prepubescent boys--protected by a blustering and bacchanalian bishop who believes the church isn't responsible for these predators.

It is no longer historical Brownsville. It is hysterical Brownsville.

I GOT SO DRUNK LAST NIGHT

"I got so drunk last night, I nearly lost my mind," sang the poet Langston Hughes. "Drunk some bad liquor that almost made me blind."

A few nights ago I knew the feeling as I stumbled downtown from one bar to another until I deposited myself at El Hueso de Fraile. "Delta" Dave Handelman was playing. His regular appearances have made him downtown's house band. Besides, Dave and I go back to 1977 when he joined me at The Brownsville Herald as my assistant sports editor.

We covered six varsity football teams that fall. We were pitiless in our coverage as it was another disastrous year for the Brownsville public schools. The head football coaches were threatening to kick our asses if we appeared on their campuses, but we remained unrelenting in our criticisms and by the end of the season they were begging for mercy. We relayed to them the Oakland Raiders' owner Al Davis' famous line: "Just win, baby."

When the dust had settled, four head coaches were fired, three in the bloody Thanksgiving Day Massacre. Dave and I laughed all the way to the Palm Lounge where we celebrated yet again that the pen was mightier than the sword.

In 1981 and 1983 Dave coordinated precincts for me in my unsuccessful runs for city commission and then mayor. At my behest, Dave followed me into the BISD where he earned the distinction as Brownsville High's favorite teacher for almost three decades.

I had many thoughts roiling through my besotted brain when I staggered into El Hueso. Sharing abrazos and besos with various patrons, I spied two of my favorite politicians. We covered the usual topics when the subject of the BISD School Board monopolized the conversation.

"I'm only a little bit corrupt," I commenced. "If Zachery Blevins is going to run, then I'm going to run. I've forgotten more about the school district than the comedian will ever know. I remember when 'Mad' Tad Hasse ran against Treasurer David Betancourt and said that he was going to dissolve the office if he won. I'll run on the platform that I'm going to dissolve the board. Our great teachers and students are undermined by a history of greedy board members."

Neither of the politicos opposed my candidacy, but neither did they agree with the no contributions/no compromises approach.

"What's the point of running if you're not committed to winning?" asked one of them. "You're not making any sense."

I wasn't making any sense. I was drunker than shit. No man in his right mind would compete for office these days unless he was totally inebriated. But I was totally inebriated and no better than a stumbling mick looking for a fight in a bar for the pure joy of throwing blows. Winning and losing is, after all, for small minds.

I sat through Dave's set and, as on countless other occasions, he drove me home. By then I had succumbed to personal thoughts and the idea of resurrecting my political career had receded into the deep recesses of my subconscious.

I awoke around ten in the morning, rose, drank a glass of water and swallowed two Excedrins and a Xanax. I retired to bed and slept until three in the afternoon. My noggin no longer ached and I felt relaxed. I took a shower, walked to Cobbleheads and listened to the music on the deck. After a shrimp dinner and two cold beers, my head started to clear.

I recalled my bluster from the previous evening. Hadn't I learned my lesson from two defeats more than 30 years ago? I asked myself. Drinking had clouded my thinking. The sun was shining brightly. I noticed on my way to the bathroom I was walking more sprightly because I had suddenly realized that a 6A Brownsville football team would win the state title before I would ever venture into politics again. In celebration of my salvation and liberation, I stopped at the bar and ordered a shot of tequila.

COLD FRONT

What happened to the cold front? I rose early to take my youngest son to football practice expecting to encounter snow outside my door, but a merciless South Texas sun had already melted it away. Ni modo.

At a minimum, we are guaranteed cool nights. I listened to the Cowboys make fools out of themselves as the same son and I drove to Boca Chica Beach and navigated along the shoreline.

Whenever Maclovio O'Malley, la Voz de los Vatos, has a fresh piece of ass on the horizon, he informs his buddies, "I'm going to Boca Chica Beach." I can understand his sentiments. Nothing compares to enjoying nature with the waves crashing in the background and the wind blowing from the southeast.

We have entered my favorite time of year. I love our terrible weather. When the skies turn gray, the rain falls and the temperature drops dramatically as it did Friday, I raise the blinds of my window and give thanks to the fates that I'm still alive. I feel invigorated. Maybe I should move to Seattle.

I am no fan of our summer sun. I jokingly tell my fellow tipplers that God created air-conditioning on the eighth day. I am a convert to the necessary luxury. In the summer of 1977 my first wife and I moved into a cute duplex on Washington Street.

"It doesn't have air-conditioning."

"We don't need air-conditioning," I blustered.

Young men surviving on small salaries tend to be cheap-ass bastards, too.

As a native of Northern California, we didn't have air-conditioning growing-up. The nights were cool and comfortable. I expected to sleep peacefully in our duplex, but not even four fans whirling at the same time could stop the flow of perspiration. I learned my lesson. I presently reside in a long-term hotel. I pay a flat fee monthly and I can turn my room into a meat locker if I so desire.

I could not honestly answer if someone questioned me about the heat this summer. I don't know if it was a particularly hot summer or not. I go from one air-conditioned locale to another transported in an air-conditioned car. As a scamp in those days of yore, I felt sexy with a dark tan, but I don't seek the sun anymore.

Our bad weather is also a harbinger of something special. After the cold front passes during our late fall, winter and early spring months, the days are magnificent. Unfortunately, I waste too many of them sitting at my desk writing.

But at least I'm inspired.

TRUMP

How can anyone look at himself or herself in the mirror and support a reptile like Trump? I won't accept "the lesser of two evils" as a response because he is pure evil.

The man is corrupt to the core. He is a cancer. He is a creep.

"I can shoot anyone I want on Fifth Avenue and nobody will prosecute me." We'll see if his bullshit flies with the House.

"I can grab a woman by the pussy and she loves it." I'm not so sure suburban women will agree with him come the election next year.

The man is a monster. He has forfeited the right to call himself a human being. There is nothing worse than a person who thinks he knows everything but knows nothing.

The pervert is going wacko because his days as a sexual predator are over. Not even Melanie will whack him off. She doesn't want to sleep in the same bedroom with this ape.

Remember his famous quote to Fox's Megyn Kelly: "You could see there was blood coming out of her eyes. Blood coming out of her whatever."

In the near future inside the Oval Office right before our very eyes we will witness Trump's not very "happy ending" as the request goes. Instead, sperm will pour out of his mouth, nose and ears.

It won't be a pleasant sight, but we are already observing a sight that isn't very pretty.

WE MUST DEFEAT EVIL

Nobody knows numbers like Max Maxwell, dean of the RGV sportswriters. He has followed sports since he was a 10-month-old child sitting on his father's lap in the autumn of 1951 when New York Giants' Bobby Thompson hit the shot heard 'round the world against the Brooklyn Dodgers.

Sports' foundation is based on stats. Every argument on the best team or the best player is substantiated by stats. Writers like Maxwell look at box scores and they could pen novels if they were so inclined. This presidential race is about one thing and one thing only--the electoral college numbers. Based on two senators and the number of representatives, each state has a certain number with a cumulative total of 538. To be president, the winner must collect 270 electoral votes.

Scott Steinbeck was reflecting on Michelle Obama's gripping speech at the end of the first night of the Democratic Party's convention. Like millions of Americans, he agrees with the ex-First Lady that defeating the democratically elected dictator Trump is a life-and-dead manner.

He agreed with her statement that as bad as the country's condition is presently with COVID-19, the economic downturn and civil unrest, it could become worse if the incumbent triumphs. Even though Hillary Clinton gained three million more votes than Trump in 2016, Steinbeck that the popular vote was meaningless. It was only the electoral college that mattered, but he didn't have a grasp for these figures when Maxwell entered The McHale Report's office located on Washington Street in a dying downtown reeling from the effects of the pandemic.

"If anyone knows, you're the man."

"What are you talking about, Scott."

"What is the bottom line with the electoral college in the presidential race?"

Maxwell took a seat. He lit a cigarette. Nobody paid attention to the NO SMOKING sign. Steinbeck, who didn't smoke or drink, was grateful that the sports scribe hadn't pulled out a joint. All his underlings seemed addicted to marijuana. They claimed weed improved their prose. As long as they produced the quantity wrapped in quality, he wasn't going to argue. There job was to submit stories and then return to their private lives. Steinbeck was a Christian, but he was only interested on his staying on the straight and narrow to heaven. He could give a damn about the path his colleagues chose. A hacking Maxwell explained the electoral college basics, which Steinbeck comprehended.

"In order to put 2020 into perspective, we need to review 2016. Trump won, 304 to 227. He actually won, 306 to 232, but there were seven electors who voted for other individuals, one of them giving his vote to an indigenous person named Faith Spotted Eagle. The electors are 538 persons who can vote for whomever they want in our alleged winner-take-all state-by-state competition. The Supreme Court recently ruled that these electors had to remain faithful to their state's choice, but we're not going down that rabbit hole. If the truth be told, we have no right lecturing other countries about democracy when we have this intermediary system that renders the popular vote meaningless."

"So basically Trump kicked the shit out of Clinton if we only consider the electoral votes?"

"The arrogant asshole would certainly say that, but he squeaked through in several northern states that allowed him to prevail. I believe his victory was more a rejection of the Clintons than it was an embracing of Trump. He finds himself in a totally different showdown against Biden. The right will try its best to paint Biden as a communist, but Biden is a moderate Democrat and the president's propaganda will fail because, ultimately, this is a referendum on Trump with Biden a comfortable option for those independents and traditional Republicans who find Trump repulsive as both a president and a person. He has an onerous task putting a positive spin on so many negatives."

"But it's all about the numbers, right? Explain the numbers to me."

"Clinton collected 232 electoral votes. She fell short by 38 votes. There is no reason to believe that at the end of the night these numbers won't be in Biden's column. Both camps are flinging bullshit that the Republicans can capture New York and the Democrats can return the favor in Texas, but this is the cheap talk from the peanut gallery meant to distract and nothing more. After the mid-term elections in which the Democrats flipped 41 seats in the House and now own a solid majority having reduced the Republican minority to little more than hecklers, it is obvious that the party's base has expanded while Trump's base has shrunk. And this was well before COVID, the economic meltdown and the riots in the streets. The 2018 was an overwhelming rejection of the jerk Trump in spite of the strong economy."

"How does all this break down in the final analysis?"

"This is my simplest computation. In my estimation there are six swing states that total 101 electoral votes. They are Florida with 29, Pennsylvania with 20, Michigan with 16, North Carolina with 15, Arizona with 11 and Wisconsin with 10. Trump prevailed all of these against Clinton. With the exception of North Carolina where he is only trailing by the slimmest of margins, Biden holds solid leads in these other battleground states. And he is also running very competitively in Ohio, Iowa and Georgia, states Trump captured four years ago.

"Are you predicting that Biden is going to give Trump a well-deserved thrashing?"

"I'm not predicting anything. I remember when Doc was the best high school soccer coach in South Texas during his decade's run in the 1980s and he never took any foe for granted. He was always confident he could beat anyone, but he never underestimated the opposition. And he was more than content to escape with a one-goal victory even if they opposition was clearly inferior to his squads. A "W" was his sole priority. There is no doubt that the numbers overwhelmingly favor Biden at the moment, but these are volatile and perilous times and the Democrats will be content with the bare 270 minimum although to overthrow this autocrat we need as many states as possible in the plus side because this tyrant is capable of any outrage. In a nip-and-tuck result, the electors could play a pivotal role and I can imagine a worst case scenario in which this SOB could eke out his reelection. But I don't want to go there now. We have to take as many states as possible in order to deprive him of an alternative solution."

"Do you think Biden's selection Kamala Harris helped or hurt him?"

"She is the prefect choice. He needed a dynamic black woman and she epitomizes energy. She was a district attorney in San Francisco, Attorney General in California as well as that state's U.S. Senator. She ran for president in the primary. There shouldn't be any skeletons in her closet because she has been vetted several times. She will bring a huge minority turnout which Clinton lacked. Suburban women will relate to her and as a liberal she finds favor with Senator's Bernie Sanders' leftist coalition. And she is a favorite of the Democratic base. As they say in politics, she checked all the boxes. She is articulate and charismatic. The mainstream press loves her because she is already a historical figure by being the first African-American woman on a major ticket. She is also a safe selection. California will replace her with a Democrat, which is key. The Republicans control the Senate, 53-47, but the majority has more than its share of vulnerabilities and can be flipped. We need to wipe the Republican Party off the face of the earth. There is no political place in the country for the racists, the rednecks, the religious right and the rich reactionaries. We need to build a new Alamo in Alabama or Mississippi or some other Jim Crow state, give them their arms as long as they stay inside the walls and then let the Mexican-Americans overrun these assholes with battalions of African-Americans and Anglo-Americans waiting in in the rear as reinforcements."

"I know you won't admit it, but I sense you are confident that Trump will fall?

"You're wrong. I'm only confident that we Democrats are going to fight as we have never done previously. I have no doubts that dying COVID patients will miraculously rise from their beds and in  one last act of defiance against this despot, they will cast their votes for Biden. As Michelle Obama insinuated: Trump is an evil man. Not only can't he do the job, he can't even call himself a human being. He isn't a descendent of Adam. Eve gave birth to this fiend after she had fornicated with the serpent."

"Changing the subject, how's the wife?"

"I'm seeing a lot of her these days."

"How is it going?"

"Let me steal a quote from Trump when a reporter reminded him that a thousand Americans were dying each day: 'It is what it is.'"

THE ELECTORAL COLLEGE

Nobody knows numbers like Max Maxwell, dean of the RGV sportswriters. He has followed sports since he was a 10-month-old child sitting on his father's lap in the autumn of 1951 when New York Giants' Bobby Thompson hit the shot heard 'round the world against the Brooklyn Dodgers.

Sports' foundation is based on stats. Every argument on the best team or the best player is substantiated by stats. Writers like Maxwell look at box scores and they could pen novels if they were so inclined. This presidential race is about one thing and one thing only--the electoral college numbers. Based on two senators and the number of representatives, each state has a certain number with a cumulative total of 538. To be president, the winner must collect 270 electoral votes.

Scott Steinbeck was reflecting on Michelle Obama's gripping speech at the end of the first night of the Democratic Party's convention. Like millions of Americans, he agrees with the ex-First Lady that defeating the democratically elected dictator Trump is a life-and-dead manner.

He agreed with her statement that as bad as the country's condition is presently with COVID-19, the economic downturn and civil unrest, it could become worse if the incumbent triumphs. Even though Hillary Clinton gained three million more votes than Trump in 2016, Steinbeck that the popular vote was meaningless. It was only the electoral college that mattered, but he didn't have a grasp for these figures when Maxwell entered The McHale Report's office located on Washington Street in a dying downtown reeling from the effects of the pandemic.

"If anyone knows, you're the man."

"What are you talking about, Scott."

"What is the bottom line with the electoral college in the presidential race?"

Maxwell took a seat. He lit a cigarette. Nobody paid attention to the NO SMOKING sign. Steinbeck, who didn't smoke or drink, was grateful that the sports scribe hadn't pulled out a joint. All his underlings seemed addicted to marijuana. They claimed weed improved their prose. As long as they produced the quantity wrapped in quality, he wasn't going to argue. There job was to submit stories and then return to their private lives. Steinbeck was a Christian, but he was only interested on his staying on the straight and narrow to heaven. He could give a damn about the path his colleagues chose. A hacking Maxwell explained the electoral college basics, which Steinbeck comprehended.

"In order to put 2020 into perspective, we need to review 2016. Trump won, 304 to 227. He actually won, 306 to 232, but there were seven electors who voted for other individuals, one of them giving his vote to an indigenous person named Faith Spotted Eagle. The electors are 538 persons who can vote for whomever they want in our alleged winner-take-all state-by-state competition. The Supreme Court recently ruled that these electors had to remain faithful to their state's choice, but we're not going down that rabbit hole. If the truth be told, we have no right lecturing other countries about democracy when we have this intermediary system that renders the popular vote meaningless."

"So basically Trump kicked the shit out of Clinton if we only consider the electoral votes?"

"The arrogant asshole would certainly say that, but he squeaked through in several northern states that allowed him to prevail. I believe his victory was more a rejection of the Clintons than it was an embracing of Trump. He finds himself in a totally different showdown against Biden. The right will try its best to paint Biden as a communist, but Biden is a moderate Democrat and the president's propaganda will fail because, ultimately, this is a referendum on Trump with Biden a comfortable option for those independents and traditional Republicans who find Trump repulsive as both a president and a person. He has an onerous task putting a positive spin on so many negatives."

"But it's all about the numbers, right? Explain the numbers to me."

"Clinton collected 232 electoral votes. She fell short by 38 votes. There is no reason to believe that at the end of the night these numbers won't be in Biden's column. Both camps are flinging bullshit that the Republicans can capture New York and the Democrats can return the favor in Texas, but this is the cheap talk from the peanut gallery meant to distract and nothing more. After the mid-term elections in which the Democrats flipped 41 seats in the House and now own a solid majority having reduced the Republican minority to little more than hecklers, it is obvious that the party's base has expanded while Trump's base has shrunk. And this was well before COVID, the economic meltdown and the riots in the streets. The 2018 was an overwhelming rejection of the jerk Trump in spite of the strong economy."

"How does all this break down in the final analysis?"

"This is my simplest computation. In my estimation there are six swing states that total 101 electoral votes. They are Florida with 29, Pennsylvania with 20, Michigan with 16, North Carolina with 15, Arizona with 11 and Wisconsin with 10. Trump prevailed all of these against Clinton. With the exception of North Carolina where he is only trailing by the slimmest of margins, Biden holds solid leads in these other battleground states. And he is also running very competitively in Ohio, Iowa and Georgia, states Trump captured four years ago.

"Are you predicting that Biden is going to give Trump a well-deserved thrashing?"

"I'm not predicting anything. I remember when Doc was the best high school soccer coach in South Texas during his decade's run in the 1980s and he never took any foe for granted. He was always confident he could beat anyone, but he never underestimated the opposition. And he was more than content to escape with a one-goal victory even if they opposition was clearly inferior to his squads. A "W" was his sole priority. There is no doubt that the numbers overwhelmingly favor Biden at the moment, but these are volatile and perilous times and the Democrats will be content with the bare 270 minimum although to overthrow this autocrat we need as many states as possible in the plus side because this tyrant is capable of any outrage. In a nip-and-tuck result, the electors could play a pivotal role and I can imagine a worst case scenario in which this SOB could eke out his reelection. But I don't want to go there now. We have to take as many states as possible in order to deprive him of an alternative solution."

"Do you think Biden's selection Kamala Harris helped or hurt him?"

"She is the prefect choice. He needed a dynamic black woman and she epitomizes energy. She was a district attorney in San Francisco, Attorney General in California as well as that state's U.S. Senator. She ran for president in the primary. There shouldn't be any skeletons in her closet because she has been vetted several times. She will bring a huge minority turnout which Clinton lacked. Suburban women will relate to her and as a liberal she finds favor with Senator's Bernie Sanders' leftist coalition. And she is a favorite of the Democratic base. As they say in politics, she checked all the boxes. She is articulate and charismatic. The mainstream press loves her because she is already a historical figure by being the first African-American woman on a major ticket. She is also a safe selection. California will replace her with a Democrat, which is key. The Republicans control the Senate, 53-47, but the majority has more than its share of vulnerabilities and can be flipped. We need to wipe the Republican Party off the face of the earth. There is no political place in the country for the racists, the rednecks, the religious right and the rich reactionaries. We need to build a new Alamo in Alabama or Mississippi or some other Jim Crow state, give them their arms as long as they stay inside the walls and then let the Mexican-Americans overrun these assholes with battalions of African-Americans and Anglo-Americans waiting in in the rear as reinforcements."

"I know you won't admit it, but I sense you are confident that Trump will fall?

"You're wrong. I'm only confident that we Democrats are going to fight as we have never done previously. I have no doubts that dying COVID patients will miraculously rise from their beds and in  one last act of defiance against this despot, they will cast their votes for Biden. As Michelle Obama insinuated: Trump is an evil man. Not only can't he do the job, he can't even call himself a human being. He isn't a descendent of Adam. Eve gave birth to this fiend after she had fornicated with the serpent."

"Changing the subject, how's the wife?"

"I'm seeing a lot of her these days."

"How is it going?"

"Let me steal a quote from Trump when a reporter reminded him that a thousand Americans were dying each day: 'It is what it is.'"

DOC IS DRUNK

Unlike his good friend and fellow blogging ally Erasmo Castro, Dr. G.F. McHale-Scully is back on the streets of Portugal. Ed Stapleton, the publisher of The McHale Report's cousin as well as one of South Texas' most prominent lawyers, has worked his magic once again.

"We are still in limbo as to the procedure which both freed Dr. McHale-Scully and absolved him of public intoxication charges, but we can assert categorically that the respected writer and community leader will not be facing litigation," said Justo Leyes, The McHale Report's legal expert.

"It was all a misunderstanding between a cop who hated Trump looking for an Anglo-American scapegoat in order to unleash his anger," said Dr. McHale-Scully as he resumed his usual pedestrian life along the banks of the Mondego River in his "beloved" Coimbra.

"I want to thank Steve Clark at The Brownsville Herald, Juan Montoya at El Rrun Rrun, Jim Barton at The Brownsville Observer, Bobby Wightman-Cervantes at The Brownsville Voice as well as my many other friends and associates in the mainstream press and the blogosphere for not jumping the gun and sensationalizing a story in order to please the likes of a Terry Ray or a Jim Tipton who want to see all alternative journalists' reputations tarnished so their diabolical schemes and dastardly acts aren't revealed to the public.

"I have been buoyed over the last two days by the thousands of messages I have received from my extended family in my adopted home of Brownsville. It was very uplifting to discover that I am not surrounded by fair-weather friends who abandon one when the first hurricane is still 500 miles out in the gulf.

"As is readily observable in this photograph, I have resumed my bohemian lifestyle which includes in this case an ice-cold mug of Sangres beer and a plate of carne de porco a Alentejana accompanied with Serra de Estela cheese. As my longtime amigo Juan Montoya has traditionally asserted, the moment has no meaning without a brew more Arctic than a mother-in-law's heart.

"As to the recent setback suffered by my cousin Erasmo via a past marriage, he was miffed with me because I supported Otis Powers against him in the past election although I never directed any negative commentary against him because my efforts were directed to eliminating Carlos Elizondo from the BISD board.

"Our children have had some horrific role models, but Elizondo was out of control who felt that the law didn't apply to him and that the school district was his fiefdom and he operated in a figurative manner as if he were entitled to 'le droit du seigneur.'

"As I have mentioned in the past to compensate for my initial sympathy, I am endorsing Erasmo for reelection unless he should run against JP Jonathan Gracia. Then I will personally participate in his campaign because we need Cameron County officials who, unlike County Judge Eddie "Panocha Trevino, believe that their elected offices are full-time jobs. A drunk Erasmo is a far better choice than a sober Jonathan."

"We are happy to see that Dr. McHale-Scully is in good spirits," concluded Leyes. "Like Erasmo, he keeps a stiff upper-lip when it comes to transcending obstacles. He considers losses the building blocks to future triumphs."

AIN'T WORTH A PENNY

Arrogant or fat,

Belligerent or skinny,

Pinche Terry "King' Ray

Ain't worth a penny!

BLOGGING

Why do I publish The McHale Report? Because I'm cursed! A superior being relegated me to keeping Brownsville accountable. This is not a high calling. Do you think I enjoy the county judge and the rest of these ingrates cluttering my mind?

I should be writing poetry, short stories, novels. Instead, I occupy the lowly rank of The Brownsville Herald of the blogs.

I remember sitting in a Tampico bar and a man took a seat next to me and said that if I ever wanted a teaching job, Brownsville needed educators. Why didn't he say New York City or Miami? Why didn't I return to California? Because this superior being had a much smaller vision for me.

Am I complaining? No. I had the runoffs to amuse myself. I'll write my early predictions based on the latest STIJA poll for the county contests. There will be an article or two about a candidate or two.

With the campaign season never ending, the time is always right for free-flowing bullshit. Perhaps I'll discover my genius. More likely, I'll find myself writing about the eternal elections.

When a superior being condemns you to hard labor, there's not much you can do but accept your sentence.

DON PEDRO WANTS TO FUCK MELANIA

Don Pedro spoke with a vehemence and assurance that only years of writing gives a man's man the right to say:

"I am 88 years old. I want to fuck Melania Trump. Her worthless husband apparently wants to fuck other bitches. No hay pedo. Fuck everything that walks. I've lived by that philosophy all my life. Since I've never had any qualms about porking prostitutes, I've fucked at least a 1,000 chicks in my lifetime, maybe 2,000. Hell, I lost count 2,000 years ago.

"Living and drinking in downtown Brownsville, I fuck a different chick every week. How many young bucks can make that claim? I'm talking about a strange piece of tasty tail every fuckin' week. Fuck quality! I'm into quantity. I spread an 18-year-old chick from Matamoros two weeks ago for $50.

"If you're an old man who keeps his nose close to the ground and can summon a boner, downtown Brownsville is a treasure trove of twat. There's nothing like sticking your prick in a strange pussy. It's a sensation I can never resist.

"One of my wives put the dilemma in perspective: Once you come, you never come back. I'm not a backdoor man. I stand before the world and proclaim: 'I want to eat your precious pussy, Melania. I want to stick my dick in your wet cunt, Melania. I want to deposit my cum in your luscious cavern, Melania. Come to Daddy. Better yet. Come with Daddy.'"

ADAM & EVE

If I seem pessimistic, I'm dealing with a hangover: In joy, there is suffering. I have no second thoughts about last night's excesses. I've done my best to reduce the suffering by calling in sick, drinking plenty of liquids, combining pain killers and tranquilizers, and sleeping. Like the anonymous artist that I am, I record my thoughts during my waking moments.

As I've repeated on countless occasions over innumerable glasses of beer, bottles of wine and shots of tequila, bad experiences inspire some of my best prose. I don't know if today will be one of those transcendent instances, but no writing is bad writing.

Not everyone would agree with this assertion. Sometimes it's better to stop while you're ahead. Man and woman were God's last two creations. Maybe he ran out of good material. Both have failed him. These pathetic creatures claim that God wouldn't exist if they didn't exist. Whatever. The little decent material he held in his hands, he fashioned into man.

The scriptures state that he had no intention of creating a woman until he caught Adam masturbating. God wasn't going to tolerate this from someone he had created in his own image and likeness. He had to do his best with the scraps, which explains a female's inferior construction--smaller and plagued with chronic plumbing problems.

BOOBY

BOOBY WITLESS-CERVEZAS: "Gilbert Hinojosa is about as much of a Democrat as Hitler was a rabbi. He and his wife are pure evil. Anyone who is a friend with Gilbert in my book has crossed the line into devil worshipping and is unfit for public office."

(EDITOR'S NOTE: Nobody says it better than Dr. Polyphemous Pangloss: "Booby is a sick puppy." For clarification headlining that "Booby loses it again" is about as newsworthy as reporting that Brownsville's Best have carted "Captain" Bob Sanchez off to jail again. In an attempt to fill his shadow, the bullying blogger of The Brownsville Void goes from target to target blasting them with a shotgun hoping that a pellet will at least ping the outer circle of one of his marks. From his liberal use of lyrica, hydrocodone, naloxone, androgel and 800 milligrams of ibuprofen, the worthless writer drugged out of his mind has never encountered a sentence he didn't slaughter or a paragraph he didn't pulverize. Disbarred as a lawyer for talking too much and never making sense, Witless-Cervezas would be expelled from a ninth-grade English class for filling page of page in his notebook without  penning one coherent statement. He is a corpulent glob of human flesh whose multiple complexes have reduced him to a raging hypochondriac. The misguided prophet of gobbledygook believes that spewing nothing will eventually culminate in something. Apparently he didn't learn in pre-school (He was the only eight-year-old in a class of four-year-olds) that zero plus zero plus another million zeroes will still add up to zero. He can never escape his anger. Perhaps it's the carpal tunnel that has him screaming in agony every time he presses a key that prevents him from viewing life from a positive perspective. Or it could be the congenital hydrocephalus that has culminated in hypothalamic dysfunction. And nobody should underestimate the toll that iliotibial band syndrome combined with intracerebral pressure exacerbated by both bile gerd and acid reflux can take on a person. These maladies make his precancerous polyps seem like the least of his worries. Conclusively a failure as both a lawyer and a writer, his only option is to belittle others with the intention of bringing them down to his abysmal level. Despite his huffing and puffing, he hasn't been able to blow down a straw palapa, let along a brick building. He never needs a reason to explore his irrational mind, so we're not surprised that he characterizes Gilberto Hinojosa as the devil and that the longtime politico and his lovely wife are no better than Nazis persecuting Jews. "Maybe Booby hasn't been able to take a dump for a week," offered Maclovio O'Malley, la Voz de los Vatos. "He is probably so backed up that I would be surprised if he started vomiting diarrhea. Es un pinche pendejo with his vacuous vitriol. He says that Gilberto and his lovely wife really aren't Democrats. Está bien safado, el puto! Next thing he'll be barfing that Joe Biden and Kamala Harris aren't really Democrats. In one of his posts he indicated that he had access to a vape and blueberry flavored pot. I'd suggest that he take a deep hit and hold it until he asphyxiates himself. He is so detached from reality that Trump seems like only an ignoramus next to this idiot." 

RICARDO/S

I wake up and take the bus downtown to Ricardo's for breakfast. I'm a regular and the waitresses take a personal interest in me. They think I possess supernatural powers because I'm a writer. I try to convince them that the only powers I possess are the ones that get me in trouble, but they don't accept my explanations.

They fill my cup with coffee and my mind with sweet nothings. I appreciate their admiration because they are the sole women who presently flirt with me. I've been wondering how I suddenly became old.

I read the Herald on-line. Estanislao Contreras, Brownsville's most eligible married man until his wife dragged him into court and reduced him to the border's poorest bachelor, compared the newspaper's contemporary appearance to his ex-spouses's. He remembered her coming home with a new hairstyle. For a brief moment there was a spark of interest, but a few hours later he found himself screwing the same cadaver he had been screwing for the last decade.

El Bravo is my morning literature. A suicide highlights the crime section. An unhappy soul chose to exit the same way he entered the world--in his birthday suit.

Dr. Polyphemous Pangloss informed me that at the instant of death via hanging a man ejaculates. Estanislao, who has joined me, says he prefers the old standby atop a woman coming and going at the same time.

HALL OF FAME REJECTS RICK LEPRE LXXI

We at The McHale Report can't fathom the arguments against admitting BISD baseball and softball coach Rick Lepre into the Rio Grande Valley Sports Hall of Fame. Nobody achieved his brief greatness in the history of major league baseball.

But let's save the best for last.

Raised in the Bronx and born with Yankee stripes covering his body as if he were the product of two zebras, Lepre was a high school and college phenom. He is in the New York Prep Stars Hall of Fame. A Dodger hater, he paid for his antipathetic karma when Los Angeles drafted him in 1972.

He quickly rose through the minors, beginning with the Bakersfield Dodgers in the California League before ascending to the Waterbury Dodgers in the Eastern League. He went to Vero Beach for spring training in 1974, but manager Walter Alston felt he needed more seasoning and assigned him to the Triple A Albuquerque Dukes in the Pacific Coast League where he tore the cover off the ball, but he remained in New Mexico until late August. Max Maxwell explains Lepre's failure to get an earlier call.

"This was an outstanding Dodger team that included hurlers Don Sutton, Tommy John, Al Downing, Charlie Hough, Rick Rhoden and Andy Messersmith, both Joe Ferguson and Steve Yeager behind the plate, Bill Buckner, Manny Mota and Jimmy Wynn in the outfield and the greatest infield in the team's history with Steve Garvey at first, Davey Lopes at second, Bill Russell at short and Ron Cey at third," commenced Maxwell.

"This club beat back the Big Red Machine during the regular season, defeated the Pittsburgh Pirates for the NL championship before falling to the Oakland A's in the World Series against the likes of Catfish Hunter and Reggie Jackson. These nines were baseball at its finest and finding a place on the bench, let alone in the starting lineup, was not an easy task. As a result, Lepre found himself stuck with the Dukes.

"But one player's bad luck can be another's good luck. Mota, if he's alive could be hitting from a rocking chair, pulled a hamstring and Alston elected to summon Lepre. On August 28, 1974, the manager placed Lepre in left and batted him second so he could advance the lead-off batter Lopes. The Dodgers were playing the Cubs who were at the bottom of the standings and would lose 100 games in '74. The wind was blowing out at Wrigley Field as it often does in Chicago. The rest, as they say, is history."

Lepre, who is an assistant softball coach for the Brownsville Eagles even though he has retired from the BISD, frequents El Hueso de Fraile whenever Doc Sully and "Delta" Dave Handelman are on stage together and throws back a few foreign beers. It was during one of these shows that Lepre related to Maxwell the details of his remarkable debut.

"UT's Burt Hooten, who would later become a Dodger, was on the mound," recalled Lepre. "Lopes struck out to start the game, so I could swing away. I took a strike and then swung at a high fast ball that I thought was little more than a pop-up. To my surprise, it sailed over the ivy and into the stands for a homer. In the third Hooten was still throwing. I swung at the first pitch and got more wood on the ball, but I never thought it would land in the left-field bleachers. Two home runs in my first two at-bats in the majors put me in a dream state. The rest of the contest turned into a fantasy.

"We were pounding the ball. With Sutton on the mound and cruising with a 6-0 lead, I stepped into the batter's box in the fifth with no outs and Lopes on first. I expected a bunt sign from the third-base coach, but his break-dance performance was a show to keep the Cubbies guessing. Ray Burris was in relief of Hooten. He threw three straight balls. Once again I looked at the third-base coach, but his meaningless gyrations meant I had the green light. I told myself that if Burris grooved a pitch over the middle of the plate, I would drive it. Thinking I would be taking, he served me a fastball waist high and I crushed it. After two solo shots, I smacked one with a runner on.

"In the seventh and leading 8-2, I was facing Dave LaRoche. The Cubs were going through the motions. LaRoche, his shoulders slouched, was lackadaisical in his delivery. He threw two curves in the dirt. I knew I would get a pitch to swat. Sure enough, he threw another curve, but this one hung and I hung it out to dry. I knew the minute I connected it was gone.

"The fray had turned into a rout. Up 11-3 in the ninth, Jim Todd was mopping up with probably no other thought than the cold beers waiting for him in the clubhouse. I was flying high and the next thing I knew the ball was flying high over the 375 mark in left field. I couldn't believe my good luck. Nobody had hit five homers in a game before and nobody has hit five homers in a game since.

"My luck turned bad that night. I was celebrating into the wee hours with by buddies who had come from New York to see me play. One of my friends was driving along Michigan Avenue and lost control. The car flipped over several times and I broke my back. I was paralyzed for two months. Fortunately, I learned to walk again, but I could never bat without an excruciating pain streaking down my spine."

Lepre, a stoic at heart, takes his rejection with a fatalistic attitude.

"If someone had told me that I was going to rip five homers in my only major league appearance, I would have said no way," he offered as he ordered a round of beers for Doc and Delta. "If someone had told me I was going to be in the Hall of Fame, I would have said no way. I was gratefully wrong about the first and I have no regrets about being right about the second."

MY ASHES

I am suffering from an ear ache which is a reaction from cleaning my system of possible venereal diseases by overdosing of Zithromax and Flagel. The two are specifically directed at gonorrhea, chlamydia and trichomoniasis. They have become more widespread than the common cold.

I finished a week's worth of amoxicillan for the ear infections and both ears still have a dull pain. My liver on a daily basis absorbs 10 milligrams of Lisinopril for high blood pressure, 25 milligrams of Levothyroxin for a underactive thyroid, one milligram of Alprazolam, the generic for Xanax, for temporary tranquility and two tablets of extra strength Excedrin. There is the steady intake of alcohol that follows the medicine.

My blood tests attest to a healthy liver, but like any abuse, how long can a person go without sleep compounded by alcohol before one looks like a heroin addict? We run the long race with the idea that in the end we will be healthier for our efforts, but instead we discover that the effort to endure has left us physically, psychologically and emotionally weakened. How many poor blokes reach retirement and within a few years are dead?

If I die, it will be because I abused myself physically. I won't be centering my life around children. I'm at the supermarket and I meet former colleagues who rave about the quality time that they are spending with their grandchildren. Since I don't have grandchildren for starters, I won't have to reassure my sense of importance by insisting that I'm the guiding light in a child's life and the family revolves around a committed grandfather. I find no satisfaction or solace in the family circle.

Teaching British Lit my last four years in the BISD imbued me with that English imperial bravado that once conquered the world. Alfred Tennyson writes in his Ulysses that the old king yearns for his past when he and his men fought great wars and battles. He doesn't want to die a staid ruler. He wants to die facing life with sword in hand.

When I was in my late teens and through my twenties, I traveled extensively, but I settled in Brownsville, found permanent employment, married three times and raised children. I do not desire to finish my life living in that manner. I have no desire to die in Brownsville. A part of me is already buried here. I intend to spread my ashes elsewhere.

I DIDN'T DIE FOR THAT MOTHERFUCKER

"I didn't die for that motherfucker!!!"

Those were the words spoken by Jesus Christ to Father Jesus P. Cadissimo, the defrocked Catholic priest who ministers to the poor of Cameron Park. The Catholic Church excommunicated him from its ranks 20 years ago when he accused the clergy of using the anuses of altar boys as sheathes for their swords.

"Jesus Christs speaks to me regularly in visions," said the Reverend Cadissimo. "He is so sick and tired of organized religion and its existence predicated on making money in his name in order for its ministers to live the high life. He says that Donald Trump has cost many Christians their souls and that they will be spending eternity burning in the deepest depths of hell.

"As I sat on my porch mesmerized by the moon last night, I closed my eyes and suddenly he was speaking to me. These were his words:

"'If I had to die for Trump's sins, I would still be nailed to the cross today. Not even Satan is as evil as this demonic pervert.'"

TRUMP TRASHES TEN COMMANDMENTS

Trump calls Zeus his father and throws his putter instead of thunderbolts.

Trump worships paintings of himself.

Trump's vocabulary is that of a drunken sailor.

Trump keeps the Sabbath holy by playing 36 rounds of golf.

Trump dishonors his father and mother with his perfidious life.

Trump says he could murder someone on Fifth Avenue and escape prosecution.

Trump is a serial adulterer.

Trump steals 24/7/365.

Trump bears false witness against the Constitution.

Trump covets Vice President Mike Pence's wife. 

CRITICS DENOUNCE CONTRERAS

The South Texas Independent Journalists Association (STIJA) has named Estanislao Contreras the worst writer in the region.

"Whether it's his prose or his poetry, Contreras lacks both the gravitas and the talent to rise to the occasion," says Anthony Starr, STIJA's president.

"Contreras is one of those secularists who finds religion in art. He presents himself as a social liberal, but if you don't agree with his philosophy or he doesn't appreciate your humor, he flashes you a dirty snarl. He gives the impression that he hasn't bathed in weeks.

"Though his perspective is the opposite, he pens his opinions with the same fervor of a reactionary Republican who wants green areas filled with cheap high-rise housing. Called the Brownsville Bard by the illiterate, Contreras thinks of himself as the poet laureate of the university."

"I've heard his fans call him 'King of the Couplets' among other titles, but the man is absolutely puerile," lashed out one of the university's professors. "'My sister likes to fuck/And my brother likes to suck.' What kind of shit is that? 'Bit by bit by bit/I meditate on my shit.' This is authentic crap! 'I emerged from my mother's cunt/The last of her god-forsaken runts.' The man is sick. When you have to resort to pillorying your own mother for inspiration, you have truly reached the depths of desperation."

Contreras does have his admirers. Crooner "Delta" Dave Handelman is recording an album based strictly on Contreras' lyrics.

"I respect Estanislao more than any person on this earth with the exception of my lovely wife," asserts Handelman. "He could have sold his soul for a hefty sum, but he refused to cheat the devil. 'I can't sell what I ain't got,' he said. That's my kind of man."

STIJA doesn't share Handelman's lofty opinion.

TRUMP'S BROTHER'S DEATH

Donald Trump, the perverted president of the United States, discovered that karma, besides Melania, is a bitch. Responsible for the deaths of more than 170,000 Americans due to COVID-19 as a result of his incompetency, Trump lost his younger brother Robert Saturday night.

"We have a God who has exacted terrible punishments from humanity when they have transgressed beyond the bounds of forgiveness," said Jesus P. Cadissimo, the defrocked priest who ministers to the poor of Cameron Park. "There has never been a more heinous president than Trump. Before he spends eternity in hell, he is going to have to pay a price for his terrible transgressions in this life. God has started collecting and Trump's brother is the first payment on a very expensive bill."

Trump, a man who hides his sorrow well, turns to twitter to endure the agony. He is extremely disappointed with Fox News, his "official" propaganda machine, for not substantiating the same bold-faced lies he promotes in his every encounter with the public. Refusing to refute categorically the accusations that Kamala Harris cannot run for vice president because she was allegedly born in another nation, he is, instead, railing that she is part of a conspiracy to make it impossible for Americans to eat red meat.

But there is always the next shot, which forces him to put his cell in his pocket as he improves his approach to the green by moving the ball out of the rough and into the middle of the fairway. Nobody seems to notice that he is cheating. Nor do they object when he says "It's a gimme" with a less than ten-foot putt.

"I'm not hitting the ball cleanly today," said Trump from one of his courses on a Sunday summer afternoon. "I'm slicing all my drives and I can't read the greens. I'm five-over when I'm usually par through the first ten. Maybe it's my brother's death. I really don't know. I saw him yesterday and we had a pleasant chat. I told him I would like to spend the night and keep him company, but I had a noon tee time and I needed a good night's sleep if I expected to play well. I was sorry to hear that he passed away later in the day. Very sad. Very sad.

"Unfortunately, it's not my day. It seems the sand traps have a magnetic pull on my balls. If I could only order the breeze to stop blowing, I would, but I can't. I have tremendous powers that I use wisely in keeping us the greatest country in history, but the legislature branch refuses to grant me the powers to control the weather. It's the usual Democratic Party's recklessness. There would be no global warming if they would give me the meteorological mandates, but they won't concede me those powers. Goddamn Nancy Pelosi is a real cunt!"

Asked if he would be attending his brother's funeral, he replied, "I don't think there is anyone in the world I loved more than Robert. He was my best friend, but I'm going to have to take a rain check on this one. I'll be campaigning throughout this great country of ours talking about our many fantastic accomplishments for which the media refuses to give us credit.

"It's the same old crap with those bastards: Coronavirus deaths? The disastrous economy? Starving mothers and children? Civil unrest? Why don't I get credit for the historic accord I helped foster between Israel and the United Arab Emirates? It's one of the most outstanding achievements in modern times. There should be bands marching and fireworks exploding, but there is nothing, nothing. I don't understand it. They just don't like me.

"As to the funeral, I would love to be sitting in the front row of the church with Ivanka rubbing her hips against mine and showing a little cleavage as she so often does to stay in my good graces, but I'm like a professional athlete with a job to do. Many stars have lost loved ones during their seasons, but they continue to play rather than attend the services because that would have been their departed loved ones' wishes.

"Robert would have wanted me on the trail rather than trailing after his casket. I gave him a few tips about dying when I saw him and he thanked me for the advice. There are many things that I do quietly for which I don't receive any praise. It's nice when you're recognized for making a difference and I know that I have made a big difference in our country. As to my brother, don't worry about Robert, or Bobby as I called him. He's doing fine. He's going to be alright. I would say that he's in a better place, but there is no better place than our wonderful United States of America."