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Robert De Niro Rips Donald Trump: "He's A Punk. He's A Dog. He's A Pig. I'd Like To Punch Him In The Face" (Video)

Posted by ChasinDatPaper on October 8, 2016 at 12:24pm

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Video After The Jump

Robert de Niro was asked to film a video for the #VoteYourFuture initiative. The Oscar Award-winning actor used the opportunity to rip into Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump with such ferocity, that the producers decided it would be best to release the clip separately on Friday, October 7th.

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"He's so blatantly stupid," de Niro says of Trump. "He's a punk. He's a dog. He's a pig. He's a con ... a bullshit artist. A mutt who doesn't know what he's talking about. Doesn't do his homework, doesn't care. Thinks he's gaming society. Doesn't pay his taxes, he's an idior. Colin Powell said it best, he's a national disaster. He's an embarrassment to this country," de Niro continued. "It makes me so angry this country has gotten to this point that this fool, this bozo, has wound up where he has. He talks how he wants to punch people in the face. Well, I'd like to punch him in the face. This is somebody that we want for president? I don't think so."

Well, damn!!

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Meet Ines Sainz, The Reporter Who Has The New York Jets In Trouble For Possible Sexual Harassment. Should There Be A Dress Code For Women In Men's Locker Rooms? *Poll* [Video + Pics]

Posted by ChasinDatPaper on September 15, 2010 at 8:30am

Video More Pics After The Jump It's highly probable most of you have heard the story about sideline reporter, Ines Sainz being sexually harassed while at the New York Jets practice facility last week by some players. The story doesn't seem to be going away. Ines has been on several talk shows discussing the matter, while the Jets have remained silent. I think the story brings up a bigger issue. And that is, should there be a dress code for women when entering men's locker rooms? I'm not defending the New York Jets players behavior. Some of them allegedly threw footballs close to the reporter so they could get a closer look at her. Then made rude remarks and cat calls when she was in the locker room interviewing quarterback Mark Sanchez for Mexico's TV Azteca. Ines is known for wearing very tight, ass hugging jeans and dressing in a sexy manner. Some would say that doesn't matter and shouldn't be a reason players should whistle at or ogle her. Considering the fact an NFL locker room is a workplace and subject to the same rules that apply to corporate America. NFL spokesman, Greg Aiello told MSNBC an investigation is underway. "The issue is proper conduct in the workplace," said Aiello. "The locker room is a workplace." Washington Redskins running back Clinton Portis had a different view. "You put a woman and you give her a choice of 53 athletes, somebody got to be appealing to her." he said. "Somebody got to spark her interest, or she's gonna want somebody. I don't know what kind of woman won't, if you get to go and look at 53 men's packages." Portis has since apologized for those comments, but is he right? For her part, Sainz has said she isn't the one who made the sexual harassment charges. Other members of the media who witnessed what happened in the locker room did. Nevertheless, a few players will probably be paying a hefty fine and face possible suspension for their actions. Which leads back to my original question. Should female reporters be required to have a more toned down dress code when in men's locker rooms? Ines Sainz explains what happened in the New York Jets locker room
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Run Forrest Run! Cowardly Bullfighter Quits Match & Runs From Ring, Gets Arrested For Breach Of Contract [Video]

Posted by ChasinDatPaper on June 15, 2010 at 6:00am


Video After The Jump


I always thought bullfighters were a little bit nuts, but they know exactly what they are getting into when they enter the ring.

For matador Christian Hernandez the sight of a 1000 pound bull charging after him was enough to make him lose his manhood, run out of the ring and hop over a wall drawing boos from the fans.

Matadors are required to sign contracts before entering the ring. They must read something like this "kill or be killed ______X sign here."

So after running out of the ring at Plaza Mexico, Hernandez ran right into a pair of handcuffs according to CBS News.

He was released after posting a fine.

Hernandez was gored by a bull several months ago. Sunday marked his return to the ring and he won't be back. He plans to retire.

"There are some things you must be aware of about yourself," the 22-year-old Mexican matador said in a television interview. "I didn't have the ability, I didn't have the balls, this is not my thing."

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Mexican Marines Kill Mexico's # 3 Most Wanted Drug Kingpin, The "Boss Of Bosses" After Bloody 2 Hour Gun Battle

Posted by ChasinDatPaper on December 17, 2009 at 3:00pm
Videos After The Jump CUERNAVACA, Mexico - Two hundred Mexican Navy marines stormed an upscale apartment complex and killed a reputed drug cartel chief in a two-hour gunbattle, one of the biggest victories yet in President Felipe Calderon's drug war. Arturo Beltran Leyva, the "boss of bosses," and six members of his cartel died in the shootout Wednesday in Cuernavaca, just south of Mexico City, according to a navy statement Thursday. The body of one cartel member was found on the ground outside the third-floor apartment, after he apparently committed suicide during the shootout. Cartel gunmen hurled grenades that killed one marine and wounded two others, one of whom is in serious condition, the navy said. Two women and one man were detained during the raid, and five assault weapons were seized. An Associated Press reporter at the scene heard at least 10 explosions during the firefight, which residents said lasted at least 90 minutes. Witnesses said the raid began when marines rappelled down ropes onto the roofs of some of the apartment buildings at dusk. Reporters were briefly allowed inside the apartment where Beltran Leyva's body still lay early Thursday; his skull and one arm were mangled by bullet wounds, and in one hand he clutched a large gold-colored medallion.

Arturo Beltran Leyva "First they were asked to surrender, but they didn't yield and they opened fire," said one of the ski-masked marines who participated in the raid, and who was not authorized to give his name. President Felipe Calderon, speaking from the Copenhagen climate summit, said "this action represents an important achievement for the government and people of Mexico, and a resounding blow against one of the most dangerous criminal organizations in Mexico, and on the continent." Calderon described Beltran Leyva as "one of the three most-wanted" drug suspects in Mexico. By most estimates, the other two — both still at large — are Joaquin "El Chapo" Guzman and Ismael "El Mayo" Zambada.

Mexican soldiers escort an unidentified man during his presentation to the press in Mexico City, Thursday, Dec. 17, 2009. The suspect was arrested during an operation Wednesday in Cuernavaca, Mexico where, according to navy officials, drug cartel chief Arturo Beltran Leyva and three members of his cartel were slain in the shootout with sailors. (AP Photo/Miguel Tovar) Evacuations before attack Residents of the apartment complex said the raid appeared carefully planned. Sailors went door-to-door before the gun battle to quietly evacuate residents to the gym. Beltran Leyva is the highest-ranking figure taken down under Calderon, who has deployed more than 45,000 troops across Mexico to crush the cartels since taking office in December 2006. Mexico's navy often has been used in the battle as well. The offensive has earned Calderon praise from Washington even as 14,000 people have been killed in a wave of drug-related violence. Beltran Leyva had narrowly escaped attempts to arrest him in recent months, including a Friday raid on an alleged drug cartel holiday party at a mansion in the town of Tepotzlan, near Cuernavaca, where authorities killed three alleged Beltran Leyva cartel members and detained 11. They also detained Ramon Ayala, a Texas-based norteno singer whose band was playing at the party, on suspicion of ties to organized crime. His lawyer, Adolfo Vega, denied Ayala had ties to the Beltran Leyva gang, saying the singer didn't know his clients were drug traffickers. The last time Mexican authorities killed a major drug lord was in 2002, when Ramon Arellano Felix of the Tijuana Cartel was shot by a police officer in the Sinaloa resort of Mazatlan.

One of five brothers Beltran Leyva was one of five brothers from the Pacific coast state of Sinaloa who once worked side by side with Guzman, the leader of the Sinaloa Cartel. The brothers split with Guzman several years ago and aligned themselves with Los Zetas, a group of former soldiers hired by the rival Gulf Cartel as hit men. The split is believed to have fueled much of Mexico's bloodshed of recent years. One of the brothers, Alfredo Beltran Leyva, was arrested in January 2008. The U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration says the Beltran Leyva cartel has smuggled tons of cocaine into the United States, as well as large quantities of heroin. The Mexican government had offered a $2.1 million reward for Beltran Leyva's capture. U.S. officials say the Beltran Leyva Cartel has carried out heinous killings, including numerous beheadings of rival traffickers or kidnappers invading what the gang considered its turf. The gang also has had great success in buying off public officials, including employees of the federal police and prosecutors, to protect their business and get tips on planned military raids. Beheadings U.S. officials say the Beltran Leyva Cartel has carried out heinous killings, including numerous beheadings. The gang also has had great success in buying off public officials, police and others to protect their business and get tips on planned military raids. The U.S government added Beltran Leyva and his cartel to the Foreign Narcotics Kingpin Designation Act last year, a movement that denied him access to the U.S. financial system. The state of Morelos, where Cuernavaca is located, and neighboring Guerrero have seen a spike in violence in recent months, with dozens of people killed. Some of the mutilated bodies have appeared with pieces of paper signed "Boss of Bosses," Beltran Leyva's nickname.

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Wrestling Midgets 'Killed By Fake Prostitutes'

Posted by ChasinDatPaper on July 4, 2009 at 7:30am

Two professional midget wrestlers found dead in a low-rent hotel room may have been drugged by female robbers, according to Mexican authorities. Post mortems are being carried out on La Parkita - or Little Death - who wore a skeleton costume in the ring and Espectrito Jr. The twin brothers, real names Alberto and Alejandro Jimenez, reportedly had been entertaining two prostitutes on the night of their deaths.

Relatives pay their last respects to the twins at their funeral in Mexico City Police said two women were seen leaving the men's hotel room shortly before the bodies were discovered by a cleaner. Prosecutor Miguel Angel Mancera said gangs of female robbers are experienced at using drugs to knock men out and rob them but they may have used too strong a dose. The wrestlers' small stature means they may have succumbed to the drugs more easily, although larger men have also died in similar crimes. The bodies of the two men, both aged 35, were found at a hotel a short distance from the Arena Mexico wrestling venue in Mexico City. Midget wrestling had a huge following in the 50s and 60s but its popularity has waned across the world. But the sport is still enormously popular in Mexico and fans are said to be mourning its two most famous stars. Source : News.Sky.Com
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El Chapo: The Most Wanted Man in Mexico!

Posted by ChasinDatPaper on June 23, 2009 at 7:30am

The guards at the city club mall in downtown Culiacán refused to talk about the bullet holes in the parking lot. Or about the cross stuck into the pavement, inscribed with three pairs of initials and a melancholy tribute in Spanish: WE WILL LOVE YOU ALWAYS. But almost anyone in this city of 1 million could tell you what happened here a little before 9 p.m. on May 8, 2008: how three men climbed unawares into their white SUV after shopping at the mall; how three other cars zoomed up then unleashed a fusillade of AK-47 gunfire and a single blast from a bazooka. All three men were killed, two of them body-guards for the third, a hulking 22-year-old named Edgar Beltrán Guzman—the son of Joaquín Guzman Loera, better known as El Chapo ("Shorty"), the most wanted man in Mexico. Culiacán is the bare-knuckle state capital of Sinaloa, laid out between the Pacific Ocean and the Sierra Madre mountains, about 350 miles northwest of Mexico City. I'd come here, as journalists do, in search of El Chapo. If I hung around long enough, I'd been told, I might catch him at one of his famous restaurant drop-bys. (His bodyguards sweep the room, confiscating all mobile phones before his dramatic entrance; he picks up everyone's tab afterward.) But when I arrived in town in early April, El Chapo hadn't been seen in public since his son's murder. He'd gone underground, thanks in part to President Felipe Calderón's all-out war on the drug cartels—2,500 troops were now based in Culiacán and carrying out daily raids—but also because of a bloody feud with a former close ally and boyhood friend, Alfredo Beltrán Leyva, nicknamed Mochomo ("Redhead"). Earlier this month a shootout between Mexican police and Mochomo's gang left 18 people dead in Acapulco. The same gang allegedly killed El Chapo's son—revenge, it's said, after El Chapo betrayed Mochomo to federal authorities. (Javier Valdez, an investigative reporter who looked into Mochomo's arrest for the respected local newsweekly Rio Doce, believes that the federales talked Guzman into giving up his onetime ally. "The government was saying, 'We need somebody, we want somebody,' so to lower the pressure, El Chapo turned in Mochomo," he says.) In revenge, hundreds of narcotraficantes in Culiacán were killed. Victims were found shot dead in parked cars, decapitated, burned, rolled up in bloody blankets and dumped on the roadside. The satirical monthly La Locha ran a helpful glossary of drug-related terminology, including encobijado (a body wrapped up a blanket), ladrillo (a kilo brick of cocaine) and encajuelado (a corpse stuffed in a trunk). Matters got so bad that at the end of last year, a state official reportedly trekked up to a ranch in Durango state, deep in the eastern Sierra Madre, and got the jefe and Mochomo's men to agree to a truce. (Government officials acknowledge a peace deal but deny any role in it.) Guzman was said to have gone to ground, holed up at one of his tightly guarded haciendas in the mountains. The Sierra is "wild country, the natural place for El Chapo," says Ismael Bojórquez Perea, the editor of Rio Doce. "He feels good and secure up there." Culiacán's economy has since gone into a tailspin. Nightclubs, discos and restaurants that had catered to the narcos shut down. The downtown street where chirrines—Mexican horn-and-string bands—once waited to be hired for spontaneous fiestas were dark and deserted. Nobody, I was told, felt much like celebrating. And nobody wanted to talk about El Chapo. Nobody, that is, except a man I'll call Enrique. My translator and I picked up Enrique on my third morning near Culiacán's central market, in front of a fleabag hotel known to be a haunt for narcos. Enrique had agreed to take me into the foothills to follow El Chapo's trail and perhaps arrange an interview. Middle-aged, with the rangy build, bronzed complexion and callused hands of a man used to hard labor in the hot sun, Enrique had been acquainted with El Chapo for years and, he said, had just spent several weeks with him on the coast near Acapulco. Enrique tells the truth, according to my translator, who has known him for a couple of years. I checked out as much of his story as possible, and it all holds up. He begged me not to reveal too much about his identity, and he didn't have to explain why. On a torpid April morning, with En-rique in the back seat, we set out on a two-lane highway east through the Culiacán Valley. The road climbed through bush-covered hills speckled with saguaro cactuses. As we switchbacked into the Sierra, with a hot wind blasting through the windows, Enrique fished his cell phone from his jeans pocket and showed us what he claimed were photos from his recent trip with El Chapo. They showed a half-finished ranch house with concrete pillars and a wooden slat roof, standing alone in a jungle clearing near a beach. Poppies, bursting with red flowers, covered the green slopes. El Chapo had gone there with 45 men to oversee the arrival of a major cocaine delivery from Colombia, destined for the United States. "El Chapo likes to receive the shipments himself," said Enrique, who grew up in the same remote mountain region of Sinaloa as the drug lord. While waiting for the goods, El Chapo got some disturbing news. First soldiers and federal police in Mexico City arrested the 33-year-old son of his longtime business partner Ismael (El Mayo) Zambada García. Then Vincente Carrillo Leyva, son of the Juárez cartel's late leader, Amado Carrillo, was captured during his regular morning run in the capital. The arrests made El Chapo nervous, said Enrique: "He said, 'Those kids were too exposed, living in the city. I would never put myself in their position'." We pulled into Tamazula, a mountain village dominated by a 16th-century Jesuit-built church, an airstrip and an Army camp. El Chapo used to sponsor fiestas in the town plaza, but that was before Calderón flooded the area with troops, Enrique said: "He doesn't feel comfortable here anymore." From this point, steep dirt trails wound through mountains and canyons, navigable only by all-terrain vehicles known here as quatromotos. Guzman's lairs lay about four hours farther east, through a zone that Enrique, after conferring with friends in Tamazula, decided was too dangerous for a gringo to enter. With the federal govern-ment stepping up its hunt for El Chapo, his guards were being extra-vigilant about unfamiliar faces. "It's unsafe to go any further," Enrique declared finally. "Up there is all El Chapo country." Some would say all of Mexico is El Chapo country. In many respects, Guzman's rise parallels that of Pablo Escobar, who ran Colombia's notorious Medellín cartel before his 1993 death in a hail of bullets. Both were born into poverty and fought their way to the top of the global drug trade. Both made Forbes's list of the world's richest people—Escobar reached No. 7 in 1989, and El Chapo appeared at No. 701 this year. (The magazine estimated El Chapo's personal fortune at $1.1 billion and his cartel's annual revenues at $7.8 billion.) Both men challenged the legitimacy of the state by putting thousands of policemen, soldiers, judges and politicians on their payrolls. Both built grand legends around themselves, beginning with escapes from maximum-security jails. And they cast themselves as high-living Robin Hoods, sharing the proceeds of their crimes with the poor. "The [kids] admire El Chapo because he has women, money, cars, weapons and power," says Josefina de Jesús García Ruiz, secretary of public security in Sinaloa, echoing what was said of Escobar in his heyday. "The average kid in this state sees him as a role model."?Escobar's spectacular attacks—including the bombings of an Avianca passenger jet and a Bogotá office building—were his undoing: they shamed Colombia's government into calling in U.S. Special Operations forces to help hunt him down. Is El Chapo destined for a similar fate? "He's a slap in the face" to the Mexican state, says Ralph Reyes, chief of the DEA's Mexico and Central America section, based in Washington. "He escaped from jail, he's on the Forbes list, he's getting all this notoriety. This type of publicity is counterproductive [to him]." Calderón has made the arrest of El Chapo and other top drug figures a priority; he has dispatched 45,000 federal troops and police officers to towns and cities controlled by the cartels, started to clean up the police and judiciary and arrested high-ranking members of his own government, including a former assistant attorney general suspected of feeding intelligence to El Chapo's Pacific cartel. In April President Barack Obama announced a $700 million antinarcotics aid package to Mexico that includes new attack helicopters for the Army, advanced telecommunications equipment, night-vision goggles, body armor and other combat gear. The government's net has recently ensnared some of Mexico's biggest traffickers, including Mochomo and Gregorio Sauceda Gamboa, a founder of the Zetas, a group of renegade former soldiers hired as a paramilitary force by the Gulf cartel, El Chapo's principal rival. Guzman is currently at war with every other major cartel in Mexico. Some observers say it's because he keeps trying to expand his territory; U.S. officials insist it's because of Calderón's war. "The government has routed these cartels out of their areas of protection. They've moved them into areas where they're not secure and forced them to overlap with rival gangs," says one U.S. official in Mexico City who assists in drug-interdiction efforts and who asked for anonymity for security reasons. In Tijuana, 500 people have died in the past year in government-vs.-cartel confrontations and in the battle between the Pacific cartel and the Tijuana cartel, controlled by remnants of the Arellano-Félix family, for control of the lucrative smuggling route. All told, drug violence in Mexico last year killed 6,290 people. The carnage has been cited as evidence that Mexico is spiraling into chaos. But those waging war on the cartels say the bloodshed means that the wrongdoers are finally being confronted directly, as in Iraq, where more U.S. troops died in the first months of the surge than at any other time in the war. The cartels, says the DEA's Reyes, have been "accustomed to operating with total power and impunity." Now Calderón's push has forced them to delay cocaine shipments from Colombia for weeks. They're "having trouble not only getting drugs from Mexico into the United States but drugs into Mexico," says Reyes. The kingpins can partly blame their own hubris: they became too big, too violent, too powerful for the government to ignore. "All of these cartels start with a 'no harm' approach, saying, 'I'm just another businessman.' But ultimately, there is a tipping point that makes them a target," says Mauricio Cárdenas, a former Colombian minister and now a senior fellow at the Brookings Institution in Washington. Michael Shifter, an analyst at the Inter-American Dialogue center in Washington, argues, "As long as cartels are just killing each other and not putting into jeopardy the country's security, [it's tolerable]. But this was getting out of control." One Mexi-can intelligence official told me he's "confident" that El Chapo will be captured within the next year. "El Chapo is quite concerned, and he has a need to be concerned," says the U.S. official in Mexico City. Reyes believes that Guzman "is up against a lot. It's the most pressure he has ever faced." Over the years, Guzman has made his cartel a vital part of Culiacán's economy, buying up condominiums, restaurants, discotheques, a milk factory and other properties while keeping many other enterprises flush with cash. "Ninety percent of the businesses here are tied to the narcos," I was told by one 33-year-old woman who works for an organization that helps drug addicts, as we cruised the city. Young men in standard narco garb—rhinestone-studded black T shirt, ostrich-leather boots, black shoulder bag likely stuffed with weapons and U.S. dollars, two cell phones strapped to the belt—swaggered along downtown streets. We stopped at a roadside shrine to Malverde—a 19th-century bandit who has become a patron saint to the narcos—and examined handwritten messages from traffickers asking his protection before smuggling cocaine across the U.S. border. El Chapo was born about 60 miles from Culiacán in the mountain village of Las Tunas, in the heart of Mexico's Golden Triangle. (The name refers to the mountainous region that covers parts of three states: Chihuahua, Durango and Sinaloa.) Like nearly every other local campesino, his parents scratched out a living by cultivating marijuana and poppies on hillside plots. It was a world of casual violence. "The [sons] start killing chickens as farm boys, and they finish by killing people," says Bojórquez. The boy was a troublemaker who, like Escobar, fell into petty crime. In his 20s he reached out to the powerful Guadalajara cartel, then run by Miguel (El Padrino) Félix Gallardo, and was made a lieutenant in the organization. Unschooled but a natural administrator, Guzman was soon supervising the movement of tons of cocaine and marijuana each month across a network of rural airstrips inside Mexico. After Gallardo was captured and extradited to the United States in 1989, Guzman started his own organization, known as the Federación, with a tight circle of associates who had grown up together in the hills. These men included the Beltrán Leyva brothers (Arturo, Alfredo and Car-los) and Ismael (El Mayo) Zambada García. Their timing was perfect. U.S. and Co-lombian authorities had begun to roll back the major Colombian drug traffickers. Pablo Escobar had been driven into hiding and the Medellín and Cali cartels were fragmented, on the defensive. The major cocaine-trafficking routes through the Caribbean had dried up, thanks to better patrolling by the U.S. authorities. In a tectonic shift, the Colombians were relegated to the role of suppliers while the Mexican cartels, including El Chapo's, seized control of transport routes and distribution. Guzman pioneered new ways of smuggling cocaine into the United States, sometimes using tunnels, sometimes secreting it in dolls, fire extinguishers and cans of jalapeños and trucking them across the border. El Chapo's rising profile had a cost. Rivals trying to assassinate him in May 1993 killed the archbishop of Guadalajara instead; a few days later El Chapo was arrested near the Mexican border in Guatemala—some say because an embarrassed Mexican government had pressured the drug baron's Guatemalan Army protectors to hand him over. For six years, El Chapo lived in comfortable captivity at Puente Grande prison in Guadalajara, reputed to be the nation's most escape-proof penitentiary. He enjoyed a private room, regular deliveries of whisky, the services of a mistress and, reportedly, weekend furloughs. Then, in January 2001, shortly before he was to be extradited to the United States to face a 50-year sentence for murder and drug trafficking, El Chapo managed to walk through a dozen remote-controlled doors and sneak out of the prison in a burlap sack hidden in the back of a laundry truck. The prison got a new nickname: La Puerta Grande—"The Big Door." Enrique first encountered El Chapo shortly after the jailbreak, at a fiesta the drug lord threw in Tamazula. As Enrique remembers it, guards on El Chapo's payroll set up a security perimeter of 200 quatromotos; then a private plane carrying Los Canelos de Durango, a popular narcocorrido band that often travels with the drug lord, landed at the Tamazula airstrip. Enrique, who had been hired to assist in the fiesta preparations, looked up from his work to see "El Chapo standing there, with a glass of whisky in his hand. He was a short man, with a warm smile. He is very simpatico." Over the next few years Enrique crossed paths with him several times, always addressing the drug lord as Viejon (Old Man) and Tío (Uncle) but never by his nickname. "Everybody loves and respects him," says Enrique. After heavy rains last year destroyed much of the Golden Triangle's crop, he says, El Chapo distributed 1 million pesos' worth of supplies (about $85,000) to the campesinos. And at Christmas, he bought 100 all-terrain vehicles for the locals, at $7,500 apiece. Los Canelos wrote him a theme song, praising him as a "friend of good friends/enemy of enemies?.?.?.?the Lord of the Mountain." Several times a week now, Mexico's National Security Council meets in a tightly guarded location in Mexico City, to discuss strategies for bringing in Mexico's most wanted man. One possibility being considered is a massive frontal assault on one of El Chapo's ranches. Army helicopters now conduct regular surveillance flights over the rugged terrain, and infantry troops sweep through the hills periodically on poppy- and marijuana-eradication missions. But officials worry that any attempt to take El Chapo by force will be bloody. "The criminals in many cases are far better organized and better armed than the soldiers and police," says one Mexican intelligence official who is not authorized to speak with the press. El Chapo reportedly surrounds himself with two layers of security, an inner circle of weapons experts and an outer "wall" equipped with ATVs and advanced communications equipment. The dangers of mounting an operation in the heart of El Chapo's territory became clear in April. The archbishop of Durango, Héctor González Martínez, announced at a press conference that Guzman was living in a ranch just outside the village of Guanaceví, in a near-roadless canyon about 120 miles northeast of Culiacán. "Everybody knows it except the authorities," the archbishop said. Days later, two undercover federal agents were found shot to death on the outskirts of Guanaceví. The eyes of one of the two had been gouged out; the other's hands and feet had been cut off. A message was left with their corpses: "Nobody, neither the government nor priests, will ever defeat El Chapo." The best chance the government has, sources say, is to catch El Chapo unawares during a visit to a city like Culiacán. Indeed, during the past year, every major narco-fugitive who has been captured has been arrested in a major urban area. Over the past few months, the Mexican government has increased its intelligence-gathering operations in the Sinaloan capital, bypassing state officials and state and local police. "You cannot coordinate with the state government. These guys have been protecting Guzman," says Manuel Clouthier Carrillo, leader of the main opposition party in Sinaloa, the Institutional Revolution Party (PRI). Ricardo Roha, chief assistant to Sinaloa's governor, confirms that the state government has been left out of the loop. "They don't tell us what is going on," he says. As he sits in his redoubt deep in the Sierra Madre, El Chapo cannot feel entirely safe. Despite his lack of schooling, drug experts in Mexico say he's a keen observer of history: he knows that drug barons tend not to retire peacefully. Amado Carrillo Fuentes, the "Lord of the Skies" and leader of the Juárez cartel, who ran a huge fleet of planes that carried cocaine across Mexico, died at 41 in 1997 of a lethal mix of anesthetics following an attempt to alter his facial appearance; some believe he was murdered. Of the seven Arellano-Félix brothers who once controlled the Tijuana cartel, four are in prison and one was shot dead by Mexican police. (A sixth was captured and spent a decade in a Mexican prison before being extradited to the United States, where he was released after a year behind bars.) El Chapo's blood feud with Mochomo, the Zetas and other competitors has left him more isolated than ever, limited his mobility and raised the chances that someone, somewhere, will betray him. "This guy is at war with three enemies—the United States, the Mexican government and the fellow cartels. It's Pablo Escobar all over again," says Reyes. What might come after El Chapo? In Colombia, the decline of the Cali and Medellín cartels left the business atomized; cocaine production passed into the hands of a handful of mini-cartels, leftist guerrillas and right-wing paramilitaries. Lacking the big syndicates' international reach, they were forced to cede power to the Mexicans. If El Chapo and the other Mexican king-pins are killed or captured, analysts say control could become fragmented again—with some of the business taken over by small Mexican groups and by cartels in weaker Central American states. "The Mexican government has oil revenues, a tax system, a state apparatus [to fight the cartels]. Guatemala doesn't," says Mauricio Cárdenas of Brookings. Michael Shifter agrees: "The Central Americans are not exactly wishing for success in Mexico, because it pushes the problem to them." Soon they may have their own El Chapo to chase. Source : Newsweek
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