El Paso Politics

The  JP 5 race  has officially entered the  “trust me, I’m a lawyer”  phase, and history tells us that’s usually where the comedy starts. JP 5:  Objection!  - Credibility Not Found There’s a familiar campaign jingle playing again in Precinct 5, and it goes a little something like this: “Vote for me, I’m a lawyer.” That’s it. That’s the hook. No chorus. No bridge. Just vibes and a bar card. Jesus Olivas is running for Justice of the Peace, and his main selling point is that he’s an attorney. Which, in JP-land, is about as original as a campaign sign with red, white, and blue stars slapped on it. We’ve heard this pitch before—usually right before the follow-up promise: “And don’t worry, I’ll totally close my law practice.” Sure you will, primo. Just like every other attorney-JP who said the same thing… and then didn’t. It’s the political equivalent of   “I’ll only have one beer.” The Lawyer Flex That Keeps Backfiring Here’s the thing: when you run o...

Alright, buckle up - because San Elizario’s Mayor Miguel Chacon has apparently decided that criticism is illegal now, and dissent should be handled the same way toddlers handle broccoli: by screaming and calling a lawyer. When I’m bored, I’ll occasionally jump into a Facebook group where the mayor’s most loyal supporters hang out. You know the type. It’s basically a MAGA rally, but with smaller font and worse spelling. In their world, the mayor can do no wrong. Ever. If Miguel stubbed his toe, they’d blame the sidewalk. One of his most emotionally invested supporters - who treats Facebook like a courtroom and vibes like a deposition waiting to happen - decided yesterday to threaten me with a cease and desist letter. She made it sound like Miguel was handing these things out like Halloween candy. Apparently, according to her, the mayor told her he was sending them. Naturally, I asked the obvious question: “Cool. Who got one? Send me a copy.” And wouldn’t you know it - someone d...

Shame on me for slippin a little after all these years. I reported to you all how the Mayor of San Elizario was censured by his own council later last year - but I never followed up with posting the actual document.  I was inspired to come back to this topic by a woman named Andrea who runs a FB page dedicated to making the mayor look good. Its the political equivalent of glamor shots - take the regular person add all kinds of filters and smoke and mirrors and you end up with an image you paid a lot of money for that doesn’t really look like the real person. That pretty much perfectly defines the page.  She doesn’t know how to engage in political discord so when someone disagrees with her she just trashes them, says they are fake news, or threatens them with cease and desist letters. Well, if people didn’t weaponize the justice system, what would lawyers do for money I guess.  Anywho, since she inspired me to share the actual document. This is now a historical docume...

Alright, let’s talk about the El Paso Democratic Party endorsement process—because some of y’all are acting brand new, and it’s honestly adorable. First things first: candidates, please unclench your butt cheeks. The endorsement process is not the Vatican conclave. White smoke is not coming out of anyone’s chimenea. These endorsements are, at their core, a popularity contest—and I say that as someone who’s been in these rooms, counted these votes, and watched the same shocked Pikachu faces every cycle. It always kills me when candidates who are never around the Party suddenly feel personally victimized by the endorsement results. Like… my guy. My hermana. No one had ever seen or heard of you until you slapped “Candidate” on your Facebook bio. You didn’t come to meetings. You didn’t help with voter registration. You didn’t show up when the folding chairs were still warm. And now you’re stunned?  No mammes. Be serious. Let me break down the endorsement process for the rookies,...