SOMETHING IS DEAD DOWN THERE...

By Juan Montoya
About a month ago, a friend who lives in the Rio Viejo area of town was commenting to me about the number of turnkey vultures circling overhead.
"It's been days that they've been there," said Bob, a shrimp-boat capitan, pointing out the birds flying on thermals above. "It gives me the creeps. There must be something dead somewhere."
After he told me and I saw them, I was more attentive to the skies above Brownsville and I told him that not only were they flying over his hood, but also over many city areas, including the neighborhoods by the Valley International Country Club, the downtown area and over west on Boca Chica Blvd.
Now we come to understand that the Audubon Society is saying that this is an annual event and that the vultures, fleeing the snows and blizzards of the frigid north, are just wintering here until conditions improve further up and they can sup on roadkill that doesn't have the consistency of cold granite.
But the fact that they are circling downtown lent a certain amount of artistic freedom to local wags who speculated on why they would circle that particular area, a place where few, if any -, maybe the occasional alley cat - would be run over by a garbage truck to provide them a snack.
"Maybe they can see from up there that Mayor Tony Martinez's proposal to give 76 acres of public land to the UT System so they can keep the UTB downtown is Dead On Arrival," quipped a city employee walking to get his lunch at Isabel's Restaurant.
"Or maybe they see UTB President Juliet Garcia's empire dying a slow death and the stench is already reaching them up there," said a parent of a college student. "It also could be they can tell that my wallet is bone dry from paying the high tuition to keep her farting though silk on her $350,000 salary."
"You're wrong," said another. "Can't you see that they are circling Market Square? Ever since the city bought the properties and evicted all the cantinas there the place is dead. Now all we have downtown is empty segundas, closed business and a handful of museums to remember dead people."
"What about the crackhead viejas and borrachines who hang out at Ernie's Sportsmen Lounge and La Frontier?" countered another.
"Oh, you mean the walking dead," countered his partner. "That proves my point exactly."
"I tell you what, if I was one of those buzzards, I wouldn't tangle with those babes," said the other. "They're more like catanes. If you show them a dollar bill, they'll bite you hand off at the wrist."
"Well," said the other, "maybe they have seen the killing that the mayor's friends made in selling their properties downtown to the city at a premium. Anyone would fly in circles for that feast."
"It could be that they're seeing the death of legal reputations of the crooked lawyers and judges resulting from the Limas case," said another.
"Yeah," retorted his friend, "but that's going on in Corpitos, not here."
"I hear that vultures have a keen sense of smell and the wind is blowing from the north, you know," said his friend as he reached the doors to City Hall. "Or maybe they see the city commissioners playing dead as Mayor Martinez buries the city in debt."