Imagine, for example, if California was run by organized crime and vigilantes, and the federal government had to send in troops to try to re-conquer the state!

Why Mexico’s meth country is totally tweaking out | GlobalPost.

Mexican Cartels Become Web Savvy By Using Social Media For PR, Selfies | Fox News Latino.

Only a few years ago, drug dealers were using pagers and pay phones to avoid detection from authorities in the illicit business. Now, with the advent of social media, many web-savvy Mexican narcos have joined the likes of Kim Kardashian and Justin Bieber by using Twitter, Facebook and other online tools to run PR campaigns, post selfies, brag about their wealth and even target rivals.

Like any burgeoning business, Mexico’s drug cartels are using the web to conduct very successful public relations campaigns that put those of their counterparts in Colombia and Myanmar in the 1980s to shame.

“They advertise their activities, they conduct public relations initiatives, and they have basically turned themselves into their own media company,” Antoine Nouvet from the SecDev Foundation, a Canadian research organization, told Vice Magazine. “Colombia’s cartel groups or drug traffickers in Myanmar in the 1990s were very sophisticated at public relations, but they didn’t have this massive broadcasting platform.”

YouTube has become the place for the cartels to show that they aren’t as bad as people thought they were…or at least that’s what they want you to think.

A video posted on the website after Hurricane Ingrid wrecked havoc on the country’s northeastern coast shows members of the Gulf cartel handing out aid to storm victims. The YouTube clip has garnered almost half a million views.

But these cartel members aren’t just posting evidence of their good deeds – they are also following in the footsteps of Instagram icons like Kim Kardashian by posting “selfies.”

One alleged cartel member, who identifies himself as “Broly,” lists his job as a member of the Knights Templar cartel and is notorious for photos of his high performance 4 by 4, his gang of weapon-toting colleagues, and a slew of him just him pouting and holding firearms.

Cartels also employ technology analysts who help track the public sentiment and also track down rivals or people who have wronged the group.

Despite encryption codes and other high-tech blockers, cartel members were allegedly able to use reverse hacking to figure out the identity of one of people behind El Blog de Narco, a popular site in Mexico that reports on cartel violence. He has not been seen or heard from since.

“It takes some technological savvy to find out who’s behind them and then to track them down and kill them in real space,” Nouvet told Vice.

Much like their well-publicized beheadings and hanging dead bodies from bridges, cartels have used the web to publicize their more gruesome tactic.

Last month, a video allegedly from the ultra-violent Zetas cartel was posted on Facebook that showed the gory 40-second beheading of a young woman, causing international uproar when the social media site refused to take it down.

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Destined by birth, or deliberately tricked into a life he never expected? Just one dance…

Look for Corvette Nightfire, the fully charged, romantic sequel to The Z Redemption, coming soon!

Here is “Destino,” an amazing animation by Walt Disney and Salvador Dali in a collaboration of 1945/46 and completed in 2003! Do we really understand destiny?  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1GFkN4deuZU

 

Tengo un regalito…es una cosa muy bonita que te guardo…Sé que te va a gustar.

CLICK AQUI: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qle33hBIPK4&list=FLDbtupCZN7rHF103M5uB6cQ&index=66

 

13 federal police among 18 arrested in Mexico kidnapping probe | Mexico Institute.

Contra the Narco-Continent: Educating the Continent » CIC.

Let’s Do This!

From the lyrics of Zapata Se Queda by Lila Downs:

Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay, cuando sueño contigo, se dibuja el sereno por todo mi camino

Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay, cuando sueño contigo, no hay ni miedo ni duda, sobre mi destino.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=beuRgIqxTnY

 

 

The title of the new novel, Corvette Nightfire, comes from the name of one of the main characters in the novel. The title also expresses the mood and energy of the story. It is a sequel to The Z Redemption, so I wanted the Prologue to bridge the two novels. It starts with revealing a little of the psyche of David James, the romantic and damaged hero of The Z Redemption, as he follows his destiny out of Mexico and into the fires of the future in the United States. The expected publication date of Corvette Nightfire is late December, 2013.

Prologue to Corvette Nightfire
David Winston James
Just Outside San Antonio, Texas

He burned spit inside him, spit and gastric juices: the waste products of intended rage. This time, he pushed the Corvette past his usual comfortable cruising speed of one-five-zero. It was a walk in the park for the Corvette. For David, it was a bullet ride over the familiar and desolate, arrow-straight highway fleeing the city limits of San Antonio. The Texas troopers left him alone when he did these midnight runs to burn off the English inside him. They knew that David fought the bad guys from Mexico and the United States and that he did it with the Zs in very creative ways. They knew he had close friends in high places, like the President of the United States, and that his woman was a beautiful Mexican celebrity of causes praised throughout the world. The troopers admired him and gave him the pass to burn the fuel of his Corvette and the sludgy garbage of his dark, previous life. Very few people knew the details of his early years. The rumor was that to know was to die.

David felt the English inside him from the years he lived in Virginia, when he worked out of Camp Peary, a CIA post. He had lived with his wife and two daughters in Williamsburg, once the English capital of Colonial Virginia. The town had been restored to look as it had in the eighteenth century. His name was English. He descended from people who arrived at nearby Jamestown in the 1600s, where slaves from Africa were brought to support the tobacco and cotton economy that later sustained the South. David felt his fair skin underneath the tan that accumulated from years spent in Latin America. He knew that his skin was as white as a ghost. In his bones he sometimes felt the depressing rainy winters of England. They chilled him and threatened to make his life morose. This was why he heated his soul and body working in the climates of Colombia and Mexico, and why he gave himself to the hot passions of the Latin people. La música latina and the songs of his lover’s body underneath him were the self-prescribed drugs for the chronic heaviness of his moods. He never meant to disparage English people, but in his mind the English DNA in his body was toxic to him. When he felt like he was dripping English, he had to race. He purged his craziness by going for the speed of light. He knew that none of this was logical. He had found out that life did not have to be logical. It only had to have purpose.

He owned one of the earliest seventh-generation Corvettes. Red. Rojo. No one could see its color when it took its midnight paces. To the troopers, the Corvette missile streaking past them was a sound and a light trail. A new recruit had gone after David once, and when David was done, he had pulled over to accept his ticket. But something in David’s eyes, some purity of insight, impressed the young trooper that David was a man of unfathomable commitment to secret crusades for good. He let David off with an admonishment to “be careful out there.” He did not understand why he did it, but he felt justified in his heart for having done it. He told other troopers about this, and the troopers nodded their understanding. 

This night, David had the rage that would not be exhausted until he hurled the Corvette to its top speed. He always bonded with his Corvettes. This new one needed to understand his tentative sanity. If they both pushed to the limits of their possibilities, then there would be trust between man and machine. David saw 186. He started a deep-throated growl that accelerated into a howl at the moon above him in the Texas flatlands. He intensified his wail. He saw 196. He bayed until he almost slumped from lack of breath. The inhale that followed whistled violently, convulsing his chest. His eyes spit tears. He had seen 202. He knew he was going to win.

The cartels had taken the money. Almost all of it. They had killed people to do it. They had not come to kill him or his woman. Instead, they had aimed their AK-47s at the foundation of the Zs in order to deprive them of their dreams and hopes.

Now David was coming for them. The cartels had made it personal again. With the cartels, it was always personal. He would point his howling Corvette in the direction of Las Vegas. He had found them there, and they were going to see his eyes.