Remember how I said I didn’t really like the New York Times? Monday—I said it on Monday. Well, I really don’t. But you know what I do like? Incredible investigative journalism. And this, my petite dewdrops, certainly is.
This piece, by Patrick Radden Keefe, is mind blowing—and it’s about cocaine, so that’s a perfectly useful metaphor. It whips you through miles of tunnels constructed to transport thousands of kilos of cocaine, heroin, and methamphetamine from Mexico to the US, to the catapults used to heft them over the Arizona-Mexico border, to the suitcases filled with
millions no, billions of dollars stacked within private lear jets belonging to Sinaloa Cartel leader, Joaquín Guzmán. It explores a system of transport and money transfers so complex and precise, they rival Amazon’s.
The trade is bigger than your brain can fathom. The cartel is literally a corporate entity. It has paid off entire cities of taxi drivers to be all seeing eyes, many members of the DEA, most of the Mexican police force, and political leaders in Mexico and around the world in order to keep itself well-oiled and unstoppable. The stats are staggering. If you want to be rich and dismembered, get into the drug trade. You’ll never get out, but then again, who needs to be alive if you’re filthy rich?
By the end of this article, if you don’t agree that a war on drugs is a ridiculous venture, I’m going to slap you and stick you in a suitcase with all the other war mongers. Then I’ll put you on a private lear jet straight to Sinaloa so you can attempt to book an appointment with Mr. Guzmán to explain your position. Hope it works out for you. I hear he’s not into personal visits.