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, 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.