What happens in MedranoLand stays in MedranoLand

Medrano political machine goes into "Gear Estupido" after being forced into runoff election

BD may wear his political loyalties on his website, but that does not keep us from investigating the candidates.

NSA Hunt loved our columns about her campaign so much she even sent us a letter, copied to the Dallas Morning News.

Anyone remember how we were the first ones to rip Beth Ann Blackwood's phony campaign for City Council District 14? That went far, didn't it?

And who could forget our favorite - StrongArmMayor???

So no matter what you hear about BD's foray into MedranoLand, remember one thing: None of it is true.

What happens in MedranoLand stays in MedranoLand.

It looks just like a house in the old country

Let's start with this picture, courtesy of the Dallas County Appraisal District.

The property shown is listed as the campaign headquarters for Pauline Medrano; it has been her legal address on her voter registration for years and years.

Let me ask you something –

Would you live in a house leaning this far south???

This picture is three years old. That is not current enough for my website and my readers - they want the latest and greatest pictures I can find.

This just won't do.

I also had to see how or if someone was actually living in this house, leaning or not.

This is the story about what happened when BD had the unmitigated chutzpah to venture into MedranoLand.

Honestly, I was minding my own business and taking pictures when...

It all starts Thursday after lunch, with me pulling out my Mapsco and a list of MedranoLand properties (about 10 pages of DCAD files) and head out to find this house.

My truck creeps up Wycliff to that last turn leading on to her street. My heart is racing; sweat pouring from my brows.

Well, not really, but it always sounds better to claim you're nervous when you're trying to be stealthy.

Remember the Cold War? Remember the SR-71 spy plane? Mach 3, pictures of matchbooks from 85,000 feet?

My 10-year old truck was the SR-71 with a few key differences: 5 MPH, pictures of wood siding at 25 feet, and a license plate you could not miss from 85,000 feet –

So I make the turn drive down a few blocks to find the house. It’s not yellow anymore, so it’s hard to recognize from the old photo, and the address is worn away.

Finally, I spot it! I roll slowly to the front of the house. Clickety-click-click-click. SR-71 Project Oxcart perfection!

Busted by some punk with a cell phone and his mom?

I come around again. But this time, I've been picked up on radar. People emerge from the house--tongue a-waggin', slobber everywhere – it’s some punk with a cell phone and his mom.

I speak Hebrew. I barely speak Spanish, but I have a photographic memory.

So I remember, verbatim, what she says and I take it back to my good friend and faithful translator, Jose.

Roughly speaking, they said -

Oh my goodness! Call the family! ('la familia' -- hey, I knew that)

It's an ugly little short Jewish guy with a Nikon!

Watch your daughters! Watch your sisters! Watch your hamsters!

He's gonna want your wallet.

Hey, it wasn’t a Nikon. Shows you how much she knows about spies.

Anyway, I take the sighting as my cue to depart. I kick in my 15 MPH afterburner (three times the speed, and half the gas!).

The punk with the cell phone is following me down the street, and eventually out of the neighborhood. But not before I grab a pic of his cool red jeep passing me.

Someone call the DPD - he's got a busted taillight, too.

I make my way out of MedranoLand with my new-found bounty of low-altitude spy photos and head for a Dallas landmark institution, and home of those who love me like I love broccoli: The City of Dallas Municipal Center on Jefferson Blvd., in much safer Oak Cliff.

Give me sanctuary!

It looks like it was built by kids using a combination of an Erector Set and Lego, but it has a unique distinguishing feature: My cellular phone doesn't work in the building.

Code Compliance is located in this building. I'm there for a couple of hours, doing more research on homes in MedranoLand.

No time to write about it here, but remind me to tell you the story about the illegal tattoo parlor operation.

When I hit the surface, my phone starts smoking. Text message, voicemail, another text message, another voicemail, and so on.

What on earth did you do?

Why did you hit Ricardo Medrano's car?

Are you really in jail?

Did you total your truck again?

Do you know where Jimmy Hoffa is buried?

Who, what, why, where, WAIT A MINUTE!!! What's going on here?

As the twisted pieces of the story began gluing themselves together, this is what I can figure out. Give or take a few facts.

The truth - as we imagine it happened

Ricardo Medrano was driving home last evening when he got tee-boned by somebody in a white sedan in his own driveway (I wonder if it is the same white sedan from the three-year old property picture that's still there today)!

The sedan exits stage left, Mach 3. Someone gets the license number. There is even a police report.

Then one of the Medrano’s gets creative [something BD understands only happens in election years]

Hey, you remember that nasty guy working for that nasty lady from Deep Ellum that beat our Paulina in the live voter count? Let’s call the press and tell 'em he hit you!

Ricardo, go to the hospital and make it look good.

Wait a minute! They won't want you at the hospital looking like that! Come over here.

WHACK! (hits him with a frying pan)

Ahh, now you look good enough for pictures.

OK, so I made up the part about the frying pan.

So Anna Casey, Medrano's campaign manager, starts calling the cops and (more importantly) the press.

This Bad Dog guy is up to no good! He hit Ricardo Medrano with a frying pan... uh... truck! And I have a number of reliable witnesses who have already sworn affidavits stating that he was the maniacal driver!

Pagers and alarms go off at City Hall as reporters the Dallas Observer, The Dallas Morning News and others assign their crack investigative teams to the story.

By the time the grapevine runs its course, there are only two guys in Dallas who don’t know about it. And they don't speak a language for which there is a translation.

The media finds me - at home, loading wood into my truck

It's not so hard to find BD on the night before a campout. I am usually out in the driveway loading scrap wood and supplies into my truck.

A reporter calls me to ask: Why you hit Ricardo Medrano?

I no hit Ricardo Medrano, I say.

You have a Medrano-engraved gold tooth and Jeep tattooed across your front bumper, he replies.

I do? I say. Let me go look.

My heart is racing like a Swedish lawnmower. I just know I'm going to find a 450cc, 4-barrel engine wedged in my grill, still idling.

But no, thank goodness. No truck engine. No gold tooth. No Jeep.

Just bird poop and a half-dozen mosquitoes.

The truck looks damn good, considering I just had the front end rebuilt after an accident three months ago.

No, no gold tooth or Jeep, just bird poop and mosquitoes. I tell the reporter.

You no kill Ricardo Medrano?

No, just a half-dozen mosquitoes, I reply.

Oh, well that's OK! You don't even have to report killing mosquitoes to the police, he concludes!

Ahh, the press. Minds like steel mousetraps.

So I sit flipping through the channels this evening hoping to catch a picture of Ricardo Medrano with the frying pan mark still fresh on his brow. The cops never came banging on my door, either.

The real truth is funnier

Nope, it never happened.

You can't outsmart the press. They catch you every time.

And the house? It's amazing what a little lipstick on a pig will do for appearances.

That white car on the left needs to be moved - it's been there for three years!

And that lawn chair must be bolted to the ground???

I can just imagine another message coming from John Loza, passed down from one friend to another friend and eventually to me - Stay out of MedranoLand if you know what's good for you.

I don't plan on going back until it's time to put out yardsigns for the June 4th runoff election.

But I'd pay good money for the picture of Ricardo with the frying pan mark on his head!

By Avi S. Adelman under Neighborhoods , Code enforcement