Mexico is the number one murderer of North Americans in the world

Mexico is the number one murderer of North Americans in the world

I remember Mexico. I lived in San Diego for almost three years, and traveled from Tijuana to Baja several times. Camped with my new wife below the cliffs once and left my 66 Mustang thousands of feet away, and it was still there in the morning. I can only shake my head today thinking about it.

I've also worked three oilfield jobs there, and found my favorite place to be Villahermosa. And I grew to love the Mexican people too, their culture of family and Christian values I will remember always. I've rented cars and drove through the lowlands of Chiapas, from Cozumel to Chechen Itza, and from the Mayan ruins of Palenque to Agua Azuela, and not once did I ever perceive danger, or enough of it to fear. I only wanted to take pictures without ingesting a parasite, and found mostly good people along the way.

I remember too, a warning by a local Lancondon Mayan dressed in his long cotton tunic as I bartered for seed jewelry at the base of the Yucatan highlands: "Do not go higher, sir, it is not safe for you there." Seems I laughed about it then, but that man was telling me the truth. You see, I was raised in the inner city of New Orleans, the murder capital of the entire United States, and I was carrying three switchblades in strategic places, my coat pocket, my back pocket and in my sock. I watch everything, and considered myself on constant guard, and I have walked the cities of the world with fearless deliberateness. But most likely I will never go back to Mexico.

According to Agence France Press, the number of Americans being murdered in Mexico has risen to number one in the past decade, number one worldwide. Between October 2002 and December 2012, 648 Americans were brutally murdered, nearly 40 percent of the 1,600 Americans intentionally killed worldwide.

Two other hot spots for Americans are Honduras and Dominican Republic with 77 murders each. And amazingly, the second on the list is the Philippines, and the hardest for me to comprehend at 84 homicides against Americans. I have been to PI, my Navy home-base was Subic Bay, and I have also worked with Filipinos all around the world drilling for oil. I thought them personable, honorable and good men, it seems that times are changing, and it matters little if it is because of our war machine, or what is in my wallet. The danger is just as real. Still, I remember Saudi Arabia, and the smiling Filipino who got caught making hooch, having to spend three years in a sweltering jail. He smiled the day he went in, and the day he got out. And I considered him a good man, just like Mexicans.

But Mexico, that is a real mind blower, and closer to home. More U.S. Citizens are killed there than all "terrorist action" around the world, as compiled by AFP. And not surprisingly, most all were killed in border regions dominated by drug cartels.

As New Orleans takes the cake for both hate and drug related violence, mostly black against black, Ciudad Juárez, south of California, runs red as the world’s murder capital, with 120 Americans murders in the last 10 years.

These numbers might be far higher than indicated by the U.S. State Department database because not all deaths are reported to our American consulates, where it is tabulated, and they do not state the name of the victims. 

Yes, I think of myself as a timid adventurer, tongue in cheek, but not a stupid one, and in Mexico I am not allowed to protect myself. Only the bad guys and punk copes with AR-15s and bubble glasses have weapons. Sure, it may be that some of these murdered people were working with or against these drug cartels, but I'm sure the cross-fire is a dangerous place to be for a tourist traveler.

There is so much more of Mexico left to explore, but most likely I'll never attempt it, as the adventure is not worth the risk. In most all of America however, I am allowed to carry a concealed weapon, and that is why I still go back to the Crescent City. Anyone not caring a gun in New Orleans is either a fool or amazingly trusting. The danger there is real, even for a savvy, street-smart local.

My father told me of the dangers of Tijuana during WW2, and how the US secured the border from San Diego. It took the Mexican police just a short time to secure it, and both trade and tourism, the lifeblood of Mexico, flowed again. We could secure the border, but Progressives hope for another potential voter, that, and Obama's new drug corridor through our national forests of Arizona. Mexico supplies our Marijuana, and that is the primary reason. Big bucks.

Read more: http://latino.foxnews.com/latino/news/2013/05/20/more-americans-murdered-in-mexico-than-any-other-country-in-world/#ixzz2WDwmWcsa

A blinding light, and the lost shadow of New Orleans, 1967

A blinding light, and the lost shadow of New Orleans, 1967

Maddy, two years later...

It had been raining that night, and as the signal flashed from yellow to red, glimmers and sparks flashed from it's reflection on a street slick with a thin veneer of exhaust oil and city dander. In the bounce and roll, I made my way down the aisle, holding on to the chrome edge of seat-railings to keep balance... I put my unlit cigarette to my 16-year-old-lips, and descended down to the second step... and as the bus slowed, I braced. 

The bus gave off a low and steady toned/high pitched vibration from deep inside, and it throbbed from the hand-hold into my arm, and into my chest. I retrieved my silver Zippo, the one I had found in a Quarter-bar a million years ago, and clicked it open and shut like absent-minded taps on concrete. 

I put one foot up and glanced at the old Driver dressed in his faded, dark blue uniform, and he looked me up and down. I had never seen him before, and found his stare curious. I had a brand new pair of patent-leather beetle (fruit) boots, somewhat hidden under the wide cuffs of my well-washed Nega jeans that flared-out like some gaucho dungaree. Tucked inside of my 32" black alligator belt was my dark, mint-green ban-lon shirt, and the silver threads running through it showed my social ranking... My left sleeve had my smokes rolled up tightly. It was the registered trademark of my kind, and as I thought there was no one else like us in the world, I see now that I was right...

That red flashed molten through the window, and as the grinding broke to silence, it seemed to ignite my slicked-back Brylcreamed hair... My beardless face looked vacant to a casual observer, but I saw everything from the 360 degree parameter of my mirrored Ran-Bans...  It was a method taught to me by boys who looked, acted, and dressed just like me...  It was but a few of the elements that separated us from the frats and pits, who we considered weak-natured, dependent, with a victim mentality. We were no victims, in fact we though ourselves to be the very top of the food chain. I carried a roll of silver dimes in my left pocket for a killer right hook, an ejectable slot "mace" pin in the other, just in case, and with a switch-blade in my right boot sock, it seemed the icing. 

They were a kind of comfort, a validation of my true station, I suppose... but tools to survive in a jungle. None that I knew, like me, thought to carry a gun, unlike the cesspool New Orleans has become today, where life is cheap.  We needed only the first punch... A Hood only needed one. When we squared off, there was always blood, but both survived to try again... most always.

"You getting off here son?" he said with a raspy, pulsating voice. "This is a bad-ass neighborhood after midnight, man." I saw that he had what looked to be a burn-mark on his chin...

The door opened and I could feel the cool night air, wafting on a thick perfume of honey-suckled tar... with the familiar melody of our midnight train-whistle, coming all the way from People's avenue canal, it sounded like WTIX in Mandeville...  My little Microcosm was but a pinhead on a world map I knew nothing about... that AM station, along with WNOE, played loud and clear everywhere. 

My silver Zippo sparked and lit a yellow-kerosene flame to my Marlborough Red, and a cloud of ruby and silvered smog appeared like magic dust. It enveloped me like a protective shield, a Dulcinea, dissipating as concentric spirals seeking the humid Gentilly night... A second went by, and then another... but a second was an eternity to me then...

I looked at him with a practiced laugh and said. "Bad ass? I AM the bad ass, sir." And like a spider-monkey swinging on a well-worn handle, I jumped... and before I even hit the St. Augustine, that door had shut...

I walked to the sidewalk, and headed south on Elysian Fields Avenue toward Saint Raphael School.  In one hand, I held my rocket-pen that could shoot a small-condensed cloud of mace 16 feet...  I practiced a dozen times, and learned quickly to be upwind... The other inserted a key to unlock the door of my 66 Mustang, and as the light turned to green overhead, I fit perfectly into my bucket seat. 

All in one motion... smoothly practiced from the solid click of the door locking, to the start of it's 289... I pulled from the curb, and in a moment was passing that public service bus.  I saw in the distance the lights of Pontchartrain Beach, and I was free... and in what seemed like a moment, that bus was but a spec in my rear view.  I was a samurai, a knight for right, Conan the Barbarian, and a song of my own creation... I was the son of the inner city, New Orleans borne, and my experiences had molded me to be fearless... and as I moved under the neutral ground oaks, under blue soda lamps and tungsten street- lights, I noticed I no longer had a shadow...  I thought myself a blinding light, and a blinding light leaves no shadow.

Yes, I know now I had a lot to learn... but no one could tell me that back then... and no one is really at fault when you are a product of your environment... as life's lessons will attest. 

These days I carry a 9mm concealed, with two extra clips, and with practice I can now shoot directly into the wind. I figured to leave New Orleans because I was responsible for my family's safety, and it was the Murder capital of the US when we left in '76... I don't drink or smoke any more, and now retired oilfield, but in my heart I still consider myself a hood, from the old neighborhood, and my experiences there served me will from Viet Nam to Saudi Arabia...

And really, New Orleans was invaded by a new kind of "folks" of low-quality, mean spirited, and a limited IQ... who trashed everything white out of spite. They cast a shadow on what they touched, and destroyed, because they had little to nothing inside to ignite...  Those days have made the man I am today, good or bad, right and wrong, and yet without them I would not have the love of my life, nor a lifetime of being responsible for myself. That, to me, is of great value, and I am what I am....very lucky.

     

Media Propaganda in a polite society: the destruction of truth and original thought

Media Propaganda in a polite society: the destruction of truth and original thought

 

Catholic Law

In our society, we have a Bill of Rights and a Constitution that are supposed to protect both law-abiding citizens and antisocial misfits alike. Even caught red handed, a person has the right to due process in a court of law, and if found guilty of a crime, to pay retribution. Our laws are supposed to be based on moral and ethical codes, predicated from a Judicial System of Constitutional Law. If we find a law no longer serves justice, we have the right to organize and change it, and this goes for whom we elect into office as well. Nowhere in the history of US politics is this more evident than today. Indeed, we live in exciting times, of historical proportions.

Our system is unique to almost the entire world, and in its purest form, promotes the adage that justice is blind. This means to us Americans that we dole out justice impartiality without bias, striving to be dispassionate and even-handed. This so-called blind justice becomes manifest when considering the most petty to the most heinous of crimes.

One might suppose, in the study of American Law, that the true reality of our judicial system is not found in the utopia of a legal classroom, but in the reality of life. Catholic Law Schools teach a moral code called situational ethics, and shows the student that a law is not always absolute, and can change with each situation. This idea of justice isn't taught in secular law schools, and yet, it is supposed to be the purest of all justice.  You see, most of our laws were implemented by the situations of our lives, and all formulated into law after some horrendous crime or accident. An innocent death from a DUI, an armed robbery gone wrong, gross negligence like killing a child while speeding in a school zone, and a myriad of other intentional or irresponsible acts have stimulated and constructed the very framework of our laws. They have, in their own right, cemented our society to be greater than the individual. It is such a powerful concept in its righteousness; that some men will die to keep it alive.  

As Communication Majors, we were taught to see through the disintegration of truth in our media this past election. Lies were orchestrated as complete and promoted as factual, and had, what many have argued, an utter disregard for the potential harm they might cause. In that process, it has left us all somewhat despondent, weaker, divided, and more fearful as a nation. Patriots of Liberty are at odds with a Republic compromised by a Progressive administration elite oligarchy, which use lies and fear to promote their liberal agenda power base. This Progressive/Socialist/Marxist ideal will seemingly do anything at all to regain its loss, and is the exact opposite of what is taught to Catholic students. Sure, we had tender and open minds back then, thinking that the world is balanced, impartial, and overtly good. This election proved that wrong. This election we saw the boot on our necks, our Liberty drained, and a stranglehold being waged on the future of our children.

Truth

The idea that the media should be regarded as a veritable and virtuous cornerstone of our Constitutional Republic was emphatically taught, that truth should be valued above all, is, after the fact, a dangerous and rather child-like assumption. After all, can we name something of equal importance? How can one make a viable decision without truth? If truth is denied us, we can have no informed direction, and being blind to the facts, surely cannot unite for a common cause. 

In that sterilized classroom setting, remembered long ago, our teachers were emphatic about an idea called voluntary servitude, and explained it to be a form of slavery. Slavery of many varieties were discussed, and it was mostly agreed that this kind of slavery was the worst of all. Yes, debt slavery is horrific, but without truth, our minds no longer belong to us. When we trust that we are being told the truth, and find it to be intentionally bogus, it is a special kind of betrayal, and it goes to the very root of what we are supposed to be as a human being in viable nation of free men. This betrayal should be considered profound in the extreme, as it is traitorous to everything we hold dear. Without truth, we flounder in uncertainty, and are easily controlled. This form of betrayal should not be tolerated in a free society, and demanded with an uncompromising state of mind.  If it is found and proved to be an intentional lie, that source should be denounced with the loudest of all affirmation, and litigated with the force of criminal justice. 

This election was a wake-up call. It indicated to us all how quickly a system can be displaced. Our founders warned us that we are obligated to fight tyranny every generation, and to never leave our guard down.  We have in no way seen this to be more applicable, more evident, and it is amazing to consider just how close we actually came to losing our county. With eyes wide open, we saw our news industry compromised, masterfully using a mature and artful science of propaganda that has come of age. It is so finely hewed and constructed that we collectively believe its promotion of lies was borne from an original thought. We saw and understood that the fires lit in the press were without substance, and pure distractions from the truth, a truth we were never able to grasp.  

No person, or country, are enslaved by accident...

Most all would agree, our judicial process, our misused and hijacked system of justice, has a very lucrative potential. Some evidently feed on the ciaos they actually create, and this is by no accident, but masterfully designed and implemented. In spite of its facade... its outwardly benevolent appearance... it is created and planned to be milked.

  

Author's note: A truth, well hidden from America... must be faced. One day this truth will slip from Pandora's Box, but as of today, it is taboo in the extreme. I dare say that Presidents have died trying to bring this to light... It is this, in a nutshell, with appropriate key words to do further research. Better sit down...

The Act of 1871 established the District of Columbia, and the US became the UNITED STATES CORPORATION. Certain international bankers and aristocracy of Europe and Britain legally changed one word, without constitutional authority. On February 21, 1871, Congress Passed an Act to Provide a Government for the District of Columbia, also known as the Act of 1871. This ten square mile piece of land created a separate form of government under Maritime Law, basically displacing our Republic based on Constitutional Law. (Acts of the Forty-first Congress,” Section 34, Session III, chapters 61 and 62).

This desperate act was passed under duress when the country was weak and financially bankrupt. After the pain and financial burden of  Civil War, The London Rothschild family saw great opportunity, along with their army of carpet-bagers, to take complete control of Americas financial future, from the inside out. It was then we became a nation of debt slaves, with the complete suspension of our Bill of Rights and Constitution when the word "for' was changed to "of" in the title.  

In this process, THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA became the Constitution of the incorporated UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. It operates in an economic capacity and has been used to fool the People into thinking it governs the Republic. It does not! Capitalization is NOT insignificant when one is referring to a legal document, and this seemingly “minor” alteration has had a major impact on every subsequent generations of Americans.

Let us reiterate...

What Congress did by passing the Act of 1871 was create an entirely new document, a constitution for the government of the District of Columbia, an INCORPORATED government. This newly altered Constitution was not intended to benefit the Republic at all. It benefits only the corporation of the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, and operates entirely outside the original (organic) Constitution.

Have you noticed that corporations are now considered live entities, and can back a candidate by donations? By passing the Act of 1871, Congress committed TREASON against the People who were Sovereign under the grants and decrees of the Declaration of Independence and the organic Constitution. and so, if you want your country back, We the People, this would be a good place to start...

Also of note...

"In its landmark 5-4 decision in the case of Citizens United v. Federal
Election Commission, the U.S. Supreme Court tossed out years of
campaign finance law by ruling that corporations and labor unions have
the same First Amendment freedom of speech rights as individuals in
using their funds to support or oppose candidates for election. In his
dissenting opinion, Justice John Paul Stevens raised an interesting,
if somewhat sarcastic question: does this mean corporations can vote
now?

"Under the majority's view, I suppose it may be a First Amendment
problem that corporations are not permitted to vote, given that voting
is, among other things, a form of speech," wrote Justice Stevens.