TimeStamp: 5 para las ocho de la noche
Narcos: Eye’ll put a frame on Ewe.
Episodes: from 410 to 401
Location: Búfalo, Durango… casi esquina con con San José de Las Panochas
casi esquina con con San José de Costa Rica.
¡SARA! … Se fia!? … ¡SO•FÍA!!! Gritaba Caro Quintero. — Chorus Sara-h, Sara-h, Sara-h rah-rah, rah–rah … etc., etc., etcetera…
It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that SWING!
Me love Ewe long Time… pero te va a salir, CARO, Quintero. —Ok, fuck it, let’s grab a Limousine and head over to the Sad Sun Motel… PURA VIDA, GALLO PINTO, mota BIO, y uno qui’otro Perico albino.
ISSY… SO•FÍA Va—n’—Essa van, con esa Tuna de La Perla que resultó ser princesa… La Serendipia seguro andaba bien cruzada pa’queso se diera.
Dear, François Hollande, you Sir… excuse moi: Vous, Monsieur, es en parte culpable de haberle dado las alas a su contraparte Enrique Peña Nieto para que él, y su puto gobierno mexiquense le heredaran al pueblo mexicano la deuda mas grande en toda la PINCHURRIENTA* historia del pais en dónde nunca pasaba nada.
… * así con ese pinche adjetivo, Gael García Bernal.
Issy, « Mozart en Churubusco », en tanto los tecnócratas sigan sometiendo al pueblo mexicano a lamerle el culo a Los Estados Unidos de america (sin acento), o mismo los intelectuales agachen la cabeza con el aparato de gobierno de Francia, pues entonces LA HISTORIA DE MÉXICO seguira siendo una Pinchurrienta trama telenovelera al estilo del puto Chavo del Ocho, o los méndigos Olvidados de Luis Buñuel.
Ayer, o mismo antier, áste señor Gael, se ofendió por el nombramiento del TORTURADOR en PROXI del agente de la D.E.A. Enrique Camarena, Manuel Bartlett como director de la Comisión Federal de Electricidad… Señor García Bernal, nigga please, —DON’T BE A HYPOCRITE. You knew from the start, that Bartlett was part OF THE AMLO PACKAGE… EWE, sir, gave MANUEL BARTLETT “the benefit of the doubt” when you voted for the candidate who welcomed the former Top Law enforcement (mexican thug) of the Rafael Caro Quintero era.
Testigo Privilegiado de la tortura del “tal” Kiki Camarena, por Rafael Caro Quintero… NARCOS En MÉXICO; nueva temporada, starring el otro güey, de “Tu Mamá También”.
En otras palabras, Gael, NO—MAMES, but if you choose to, then MAKE SURE THAT EWE SWALLOW!
Dear, Gael… we [the staff] love your theatrical work, we really do, pero ahora tendrás que tragar SAPOS, we [the staff] know for a fact que te encantan las ANCAS de Rana, so one or two TOAD…ies should not be a stretch for Ewe, sir.
El Espectro… foto de archivo. Originally published on Oct. 31st, 2015 under the headlîe: Tigerlilly y la ley anti-Armando. —_~ Rue de Chevaleret, altura con la estación Bibliothèque F. Mitterand
Did you know that it was the French… who invented “El Pan de Muerto” and the “Day of The Dead” . And that it was the British who perfected that celebration by “shaking it” with Craig, —Daniel Craig.
Hold that thought, Colonel Matthews… because when we return: Let’s Play Hardball!… but first, “with all due respect” it’s time for Breaking The News. —_—. John Heilemann, a long-time sticker fanatic of an urban colective who call themselves “The Wu-Tang Clan,” suffered a heart attack late Friday night (last week) after learning that his ‘wingman’ Mark Halperin, let Mika and Cousin Joe down… Hold That Thought, we’ll be right back with let’s play hardball with Colonel Chris Matthews…. GOOOOOO, DODGERS!
The good thing about this nonconsequential blog is that los Espíritus nunca vienen a visitar este espectro protocolario de los Interwebs.
Motivation vs. Hate… 
“Let’s play hardball”
with Col. ChrisMatthews
Legacy politics and opposing viewpoints: an American Original Story. •—_—• Hey there, Cousin Joe, please relay to Colonel Matthews that the next segment is nothing personal, as a matter of fact, there was a time that we,[the staff] would leave the Internet Streaming Machine on during his show. Our favorite part of his schtick would of course be the opening line, the fast interrogation style that he uses when addressing his guests, and the final thought. I will never forget that time during the first presidential debate of 2016, when he said: it’s too late, they are already in—they have stormed the castle!… or something like that, if i had access to Mr. Peacock’s archives, that would be the first “talking meme” that i would upload on this unconsecuential blog… ANYGÜEY, Cousin Joe, the Carmen Aristegui segment regarding a Salvatore “Mooney” “Sam” “Capo de Tutti” Giancana files with RFK, —follows.
1968… to put the following analysis into context let me first tell you, Colonel Matthews, how i feel about the loss of Robert F. Kennedy by a guy with a redundant name like say, José José, Polo Polo, Django Django, or Los Dug Dug (all of ’em artistic names) except for the one that made of the Bonaventure’s kitchen a landmark name: Sirhan Sirhan.
Anygüey, Colonel Matthews, i shead a tear; and i wasn’t even born yet! Just like that time that i shead another tear —a few weeks later on October the 2nd, three months later (give or take) after “Bobby” Kennedy’s hit… and again, Colonel Matthews, i wasn’t even born yet but still, i shead a tear.
MINUTO 3, con 54 SEGUNDOS: “El interés de matar a Fidel, contra el odio de Robert F. Kennedy hacía la mafia…” palabras más o palabras menos, Cousin Joe, RFK, might have been in your own words, “a though Son of a Bitch”, but in his dealings with the mob to get rid of Castro, he was a bit of hypocritical bitch too! Don’t you think? Think about it, Cousin Joe, a historical parallel to that Machiavellian recourse of the means in an equation is the same algorithm that gave US the Taliban and ISIS… intel on that last statement follows.
Coincidentemente, cuentán los que llorarón aquél día allí, de que uno de los primeros McDonald’s que abrieron sus puertas en Francia fue precisamente en frente del sitio de Cluny… La próxima vez que divisemos a doña Vilma confirmaremmos esa Fuente … Por mientras sólo hay que apuntar de que así, pues, son los sincretismos culturales, o mismo los “Clunilnarios“.
Las tres etapas… foto de archivo originalmente publicada el 1 de noviembre del 2015, en “Efeméride Actualizada”. —_—. Rue de Chevaleret, altura con la estación Bibliothèque F. Mitterand. Foto capturada por armando segovia / segoviaspixes 2015 (CreativeCommons Intl. Lic. 4.0 /By/NC/SA).
DEAR Cousin Joe:
Please give our regards to Mr. Kryl, Jeremy (one-each) at The Daily Beast. Way to not —we repeat— to not bury the lead on his courageous reporting on torture and mayhem inside a prison in paradise*, Mr. Kyrl certainly is a ‘buen dude’ for getting that ‘bad hombre’ Chimino of “Los Rojos” to summarize what The Police, in the voice of Gordo’ Sullivan, were trying to explain to the MTV crowd back in the day when Donald Trump was getting all that ‘Money for nothing’, and President Ronald Reagan was pardoning, exonerating, and obstructing justice in favor of CIA sponsored terrorism south of the San Clemente border:
* Acapulco es el paraiso en este CEFERESO, en particular. —_— Uso justo de todos los medios and The Police… “Because murder is like anything you take to… It’s a habit-forming need for more and more…You can bump off every member of your family…And anybody else you find a bore.” Fragment of “Murder by Numbers” courtesy of The Police.
Anygüey, Cousin Joe, because we [the staff] feel like You and the PeaCock crew know us better than we do ourselves, we would like to touch base on how some of these “hard cases,” as Mr. Kyrl at The Daily Beast likes to tag them, they do seem to usually associate themselves with some kind of color scheme, eh.
Fragment. Fair use of Mexico’s news and the Beasts that write’em. (En buena onda).
This love for painting their persona is not restricted to bad guys on the wrong side of the law, but we [the staff] will cover that in two or three lines; in the mean-time, here’s a short list of forajidos who coated their brand with some kind of hue:
Captura cortesía del Blog del Narco… QEPD. —_— En toda seriedad, y como dice el Lic. Brozo, “Las alternancias funcionan en las democracias”, y nosotros en el staff agregaríamos de que ¡NO! en las repúblicas bananeras; Y LO MISMO pasa con las recompensas por declarar en contra de capos.
Take for instance, Clear Channel Communication’s favorite billboard poster child and, probably it’s most profitable temporary source of Federal Government Advertisement Revenue: JuanJo Esparragoza Moreno from the Sinaloa Cartel, a.k.a. El Azul; or, in another realm we have this fellow, cocaine kingpin Roberto “R”, the criminal with the shortest last name in recorded history, a.k.a. El Colorado; or, fabled train robber José “El Amarillo,” whom the law never caught (or properly apprehended) so we are left to wonder what his last name was, however; we do have a hint of where José hails from thanks to the legendary ballad of “Los Dos Amigos,” from which inquisitive ‘cantina’ goers everywhere can probably deduce that José was riding his horse due West from the Colonial mining town of Mapimí and he probably had some inside information on the shipments that headed East that were making their way (from the East) towards the Sierra Madre at …. wait for it, Rachel…wait… are You Ready Raquel?… at Junction Bermejillo; go ahead, debunk that function of a riddle, éh.
…y luego, existen leyendas como la de BENICIO DEL TORO, que como todos sabemos no necesita de tonos de ningún mote (o cosas d’esas así) porque todos en Costa Rica saben muy bien de que el color favorito don Rafa es el verde, con rayados en blanco. USO JUSTO DE LOS RECURSOS DEL CORREDOR INTERESTATAL I-10.
… and now, a special edition Digression.
Starring the memory of Chucho Salinas, as José, and the purgatory waiting room soul of Héctor Lechuga, as Martín:
NARRATOR [must be read in the Omnipresent voice of Mel Brooks]:
Cousin Joe, you probably don’t know this, but your train robbing ‘tocayo’, José, he got his nickname for what the good people of San José de las Panochas claim was a clear case of chronic jaundice, which apparently colored the skin of José throughout his lifetime.
Now, according to our source (inside of the lyrics of the legendary ballad) his partner in crime, Martín, would taunt José every time before a robbery was getting ready to go down. Martín would tease José specifically on catching a case of the butterflies and turning all kinds of yellow, implying that José was a yellow-belly robber, or that José was about to coward his way out of the hit in progress:
What’s the matter Pepito?
Want some Malox for that tummy tickle?
I see that your lighter shade of the canary is acting up on you, again?
What’s the matter? Butterfly season again?
To what our hero, José or Pepe (short for José in Spanish) would reply:
Go fuck yourself, Martín. Do you want me to go and get you a doctor’s letter?
I Happen To Have Jaundice! You motherfucker, and I am not the one who took off running, last week —tonight— at the market when the fucking federales showed up.
You buddy fucker you… now pass me that fucking dynamite, and as soon as this hit is over, you little closeted porfirista, i’m riding ‘El Jovero’ back to camp.
… But moving on, those were only three examples of how some outlaws, either by choice, or by buddy bullying, end up being identified with a color as their alias.
But what about the darkest figures in recent history on the so-called “good side” of the law? What about those sinister operatives who can only be boxed and tagged as the “political police” elements who are capable of coming up with the worst unimaginable methods of “legal” torture, like say, sexually violating infants, toddlers and even babies in the presence of their parents; or guiding a rat into the birth-giving orifice of a suspect’s wife in order to get a targeted citizen (usually an innocent person) into signing a confession for the good of the order, as it is often said, in military jargon.
Imagen de un Criminal solapado por la ley Cortesía de la Facultad de Criminología de la Universidad Autónoma de Nuevo León… perdón, nos equivocamos de tesis… Foto cortesía del diario angelino: Los Angeles Times. La captura de la imagén de un asesino que falleció sin ser juzgado forma parte del archivo de tesis en un catalogo de traidores del país (porque Patria no hay en México, únicamente los trazados con crucecitas que delimitan en un pinche mapa, Primo José, a un país. La llamada patria, amigo Gustavo, por parafrasear lo que la Chavela Vargas dijo sobre en dónde nacen los mexicanos va más o menos ansina: la patria la llevamos los mexicanos a dónde nos da la chingada gana, especialmente cuando los gobernantes de un país no valen mas que un chingado balín… para más información visite: http ://www .rebelion .org / noticia .php?id= 144199
The man in this ⇑ picture ⇑ [we argue] is the Mexican version of military thug Heydrich in his early days at the Nazi Party. We [the staff] believe that Miguel Nazar Haro, like Torquemada, ‘the’ patron saint of El Yunque, the Opus Dei, and quite possibly Vicente Fox , all have a special place, as Gordo’ Sullivan sang on the last track of the Synchronicity album, “in history’s Great Dark Hall of fame”.
Los héroes de Nazar Haro siempre fueron güeyes (uniformados à la moda de la SS de herr Himmler) como estos putos del poster.
This, however, is not —we repeat— it is not an invocation of “Godwin’s law“. We are simply saying that if there is actually a place called ‘The Titty Twister Lounge and Cantina’ these two (Herr Heydrich and Señor Nazar Haro) are probably sitting at the same table drinking Richie Gecko’s (Quentin Tarantino) piss at the bar.
The web address included on Nazar Haro’s photo capture cutline will direct the readers who never visit this blog, to a letter that Gerardo Pelaéz Ramos wrote to the grandchildren of their secret police, grandfather thug.
Pelaéz Ramos, goes on to claim in that letter that at the tender age of six he was tortured by Gustavo Díaz Ordaz and Luis Echeverría Álvarez personal political attack operator,: Nazar Haro.
In that same letter, Cousin Joe, Pelaéz Ramos makes a very disturbing claim about your favorite Mexican media folkloric crazy uncle. Pelaéz Ramos claims that Vicente Fox Quezada, was actually looking into reinstating Nazar Haro into his political police.
Thank God, Cousin Joe, that the accusations of Pelaéz Ramos never materialized; which brings us back to this entry’s dangling tangent, the one about how the criminally inclined, on both sides of the law, command a place in the color wheel scheme.
And oh —BTW,— cousin Joe, you probably are not aware of this—but we [the staff] are willing to bet that señor Chente is, just ask him about the secret police brigade that Nazar Haro assembled and baptized as “la brigada blanca”… further south.