By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ | Editor of The Avenger
BROWNSVILLE, Texas – Mercurial blogger Robert Wightman-Cervantes is back at dumping on his fellow bloggers, the ones that avail their blogs so that he can post his inanities as comments, the same inanities he posts as silly, useless drivel on his own insignificant blog. Wightman is nothing if not a lonely dude. Why, Maria, my dear, you’d think he’d get in the Holiday Spirit.
But, noooooooooooooo-oh.
He’s back again courting OP 10.33’s Mike Hernandez for a few financial crumbs. Or, so it seems, as he once more goes on an anti-blogger tirade while informing Hernandez that he, he is the blogging way in Brownsville. Well, that may be so, but only if the “way” is some colonia gutter moving dog feces down the street. Wightman, shown in photo above, must be experiencing a bit, if not all, of the so-called Holiday Blues.
This is what he typed onto his low-readership blog yesterday, about Hernandez, for, really, no reason:
“When Mike called me, the first thing I told him was to stay away from the blogs. At the time, the Brownsville Voice had been defending OP 10.33’s mission while the blogs were trashing him. I was actually on the phone with Mike, and had full access to OP 10.33’s office. I told Mike the bloggers were faking their numbers as to readership and in terms of readership verses actual voters in Brownsville and Cameron county, the blogs do not exist. One of his mouthpieces George Sanchez is panicking and running around town telling people he is begging Mike Hernandez to stay away from the blogs because they are hurting him. George might not be the brightest person, but he knows Brownsville and how by associating with any blogger will hurt Mike Hernandez and OP 10.33.”
Okay. So much for a blogging community. Often, Wightman, also known as The Blimp in the city’s Blogosphere, rallies the Bloggers to unite for progress or somesuch other idealistic thing, like protesting at the offices of the FBI as an end-of-the-year show of good, Ol’ American dissidence. He’s never caught-on to the fact that this particular city’s bloggers are individualistic palace cats who may talk about doing such a thing, but never will. Wightman perhaps is just being childish, wishing to belong o something better than what he has in that stunningly boring blog that looks to be more a teenager’s diary than anything an adult would seek-out for news and information.
The year’s almost over and we are in great spirits, but, boys, this Wightman fella needs to get a life. In the worst of ways. He’s killing himself with all that high-anxiety envy and jealousy. No, Maria, we don’t wish death on anybody, but a case could be made that Wightman can’t wait for it. How else to explain that mess he wrote yesterday about his brain and his inability to think or concentrate or write? We can’t. Our world is a sunny world full of joy and beautiful people. He hangs out at the VA Clinic, perhaps the most depressing place in the Rio Grande Valley. Stay away from there, Boobie!
But this trashing of local bloggers cannot stand. Wightman is the proverbial Nobody, a person who needs every friend and smile he can get. Have you seen him? Yeah, we know. That’s him again, in key lime t-shirt at right. That there’s the problem, Wightman, you’re not handsome enough for OP 10.33! Ha ha ha. Yeah, go play Quasimodo at the Camille Playhouse, that stuff.
Today is the end of the workweek and a neat weekend will follow. There’s nice weather in store and one can quickly get the idea that the world is at peace with itself. It could be. It just may be. Oh, sure it is.
So, to Wightman: Run from writing, lad, ’cause it’s not your forte, and go make a cheesecake or something. Go talk to an injured bird. Run a few laps around our very own Walden Pond (Charlie Cabler Park) and do a bit more for your body. We can’t see your brain, but that’s the same brain that brought you that body and the same brain that drags you to your computer keyboard to throw slop at everybody in town.
As things stand, it’s easy to see that you’re a mouldy, mouldy man…
. . .
Avenger Editor Duardo Paz-Martinez likes his coffee black and hot. Mornings in the RGV are not mornings in his beloved New Mexico, but sometimes things just have to do, as they say in military mess halls. We agonize when writing about Bloggers Wightman and his loyal sidekick, Jim “Smegma” Barton. Why do we agonize? Because they just seem to be so at odds with skill, especially communication skills. Hopefully, both of these dolts have asked Santa for a book or two to do with writing the news…
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The Brownsville Avenger 