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Juanita’s feelings are a little bit hurt.

Her friend El Jefe Bob is over there around the corner getting his life threatened by the Steeple People.

Juanita has not gotten her life threatened since she quit doing restaurant reviews for the newspaper.  “That’s the damn truth.  I mean, I wrote about district court judges, crooked cops, dope dealers, and all manner of vermin, but I never had my life threatened until I did a bad restaurant review.  That was the only time I was truly scared.  They started heating up the tar and went to fetch some feathers.”

“Sure, I have a couple of stalkers.  One guy who has pretty well shuddup since I found out who he was behind all those anonymous comments – just another fat old bald white guy who lists his occupation as a ‘consultant,’ which means he’s unemployed. There’s another guy with so many sockpuppets that he should take his show on the road to children’s libraries.  And there’s the crazy middle aged woman who has her daughter call and leave classless vulgar messages on my answering machine,” Juanita smiles with some glee at the importance of her life.

“But, El Jefe is getting his life threatened.  Why?  Because he wrote things about Houston’s Mattress Mac, a local furniture huckster.  You gotta go see this train wreck.  Apparently, we now know what really hacks-off the rightwing:  food or furniture.”

“Friends, head on over and help El Jefe hold down the fort.”