ONE LAST TIME

By Juan Montoya

"The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity..."

"Everybody's talking at me
I can't hear a word they're saying
Only the echoes of my mind..."

At the risk of myself also falling into the ego trap of my detractors, I will address the drivel hurled at me by anonymous critics.
When I write, I put my name on my work, unlike others who throw the stone and hide behind a cyberwall of anonymity.
I speak of course, of a certain DPM (pos sus siglas en ingles). The gentleman (to use the term very loosely) prefers to use an English acronym, apparently ashamed of the Mexican name que sus padres le dieron en la pila: Eduardo Paz Martinez.
He is, as goes the poem, everything, and nothing.

"To be on every side, to be everything, to be nothing long;...
To wear a mask like the Greek actors –..."

Eddie, who chose himself in a self-conducted poll to be "the most interesting man in Brownsville" really should call himself Eddie the Hydra because he is at any one time Patrick Alcatraz, Ron Mexico, Ricardo Klement, Angelo Margarita, Juan Mo-Time, LaCandrelle Jefferson, Beatle Cantu, Mona Montana, Leon Brownbone, Joe Hermosillo, or Lavice La Joya. All these are alter egos of one and the same person.
You know when schizophrenia has progressed to the terminal stage when theses alter egos engage in a concocted dialogue over one of their postings, as Eddie is wont to do to make readers think someone out there is actually interested in what he has to say.

"Your eight-page paper – behind which you huddle (actually an on-again-off-again Blog on the Run), bawling through the megaphone of big type: 'This is I, the giant',..
living the life of a sneak-thief
Poisoned with the anonymous words
Of your clandestine soul..."

Hijito, disabuse yourself of the perception that we hold you as a high priest of journalism ethics or style, neither of which you possess. When I left the Brownsville Herald for San Antonio and beyond, I left with a fistful of journalism awards, including first place in statewide competition with newspapers of all sizes for a five-part series on the health conditions confronting our people.
When you left, it was under a cloud of suspicion that you had fabricated stories, and the only thing you left was a scum ring on the editorial tub.
But I must confess that I did enjoy your plagiarized food reviews that were written by a writer in California about taco stands and which you passed off as yours making it seem like you had eaten in Brownsville. Amusing.
Far be from it that I have to justify myself to the likes of you. But to set the record straight on your baseless accusations, I don't like breaded shrimp nor do I accept that as payment for my work. That came out in depositions where a certain blogger in town repeated your fibs. As to the deal with Ernie Hernandez, I have stated in the past and will repeat it for our slower readers: Hernandez bought an ad and paid for it. That's the truth, pure and simple.
If you think that holding the threat of a report to the state comptroller will shut down this blog, go at it. What would state tax be on $100? Siempre has sido un relaje, Eddie. Eres un dedo.
In case you don't remember, we are co-defendants and both of us are under a court order (a gag rule) not to discuss a case in which a plaintiff charged that you defamed him and that your libelous comments later appeared on the local blogs, mine included. That is the reason that I had restrained myself from answering your canards. And that's as far as I'm going with that. But seriously, when one reads your stuff, do you think that anyone would arrive at the conclusion that you would be capable of deliberately defaming anyone? When we go to court, we'll find out. Won't we?
Ancient Sumerians said that the only way to exorcise a demon was to bring him out into the light of day. Well Eduardobub, Be gone.
What irks a lot of us is that we live here, are raising our families here, and occasionally vote here. You do none of the above. Yet, you smugly sit back in Fort Worth, or Katmandu, or wherever, and excoriate us lower life forms at your delight.
Like the quintessential editorialist, you sit in the hills above the battle in the valley, and once it's safe, descend from your Olympus and shoot the survivors.
Judging by your postings you're quite the galan with waitresses at the greasy spoons you frequent. That reminds me of a story Jerry told us about the time he and you traveled together to Reynosa to see the bullfights. When the group went to a restaurant, he was apparently embarrassed because you stole the tip left to the woman who served your table.
So spew your venom to your heart's content. I won't deign to answer your drivel anymore because, frankly, it's irrelevant to my life and to the lives of the people of this city.