Wow.  The most feared drug gang in Mexico, Cartel Los Zetas, finally buckled under pressure.  But it wasn’t law enforcement, the military or rival gangsters that made the violent Zetas bow to threats… it was a gang of computer geeks.

A few days ago, the hacking collective known as Anonymous threatened to expose the identities of the Zetas syndicate and their supporters; retaliation for the kidnapping of an Anonymous member in Veracruz, Mexico by the Zetas.  To hell with celebrities arguing like bitches on Twitter, this here is real computer beef.

As reported by MSNBC:

“You made a huge mistake in taking one of us,” an Anonymous member says in a YouTube video. “Release him, and if anything happens to him, you will always remember this upcoming Nov. 5.”

The Nov. 5 reference used in the threat falls in line with the lore and mystery on which the hacktivist group thrives.  That date is Guy Fawkes Day, the anniversary of the discovery of the 1604 plot to blow up the British Parliament, referenced in the movie “V for Vendetta.”

“We demand his release,” the Anonymous representative, in a suit, tie and mask, says. “We want the army and the navy to know that we are fed up with the criminal group Zetas, who have concentrated on kidnapping, stealing and blackmailing in different ways.”

The drug cartel, known as the Zetas, is one of the most powerful and violent crime organizations in Mexico, responsible for extortion, assassinations and kidnapping along with illegal drug trade. If the Zetas don’t release the unnamed Anonymous hacker they allegedly kidnapped, Anonymous says it will expose cartel secrets as well as the identities of the journalists, taxi drivers and police officers it believes are complicit in allowing the Zetas to thrive.

Anonymous tossed its glove into the ring but how would the Zetas respond? The murderous cartel is known for it’s stomach-churning acts of carnage (see our previous post: MEXICAN DRUG CARTELS DON’T FUCK AROUND).  They’ve got the police and the government scared to death.

Anonymous hacks computers but Cartel Los Zetas hack body parts…

But surprisingly, the Zetas released the kidnapped Anonymous member.  Score one for computer nerds all over the world.  Still, the gangsters let it be known that things ain’t sweet.

As reported yesterday by NineMSN:

Cartel Los Zetas was forced to release a kidnapped member of Anonymous after the activist hacking group threatened to expose the gang’s corrupt supporters.

After the release of the Anonymous threats, the kidnapped member was released with a note that promised to kill 10 people for every name exposed by the group.

“On this day, our anonymous friend retained by the Zetas cartel has been released,” a statement on its website said. “We can say that while bruised, he is alive and well. He has sent us a message that if Anonymous reveals a name related to the cartel, the family of the kidnapped anonymous will suffer, and for each cartel member revealed, 10 people will be put to death.”

Despite the apparent cease-fire between Anonymous and Los Zetas, one hacker has vowed to continue the fight against the cartels.

Barrett Brown, who has reportedly acted as the public face for Anonymous in the past, posted comments on Pastebin that said while the Zetas action was cancelled, he “will be going after other cartels with the assistance of those who have come forward with new information and offers of assistance”.

This entire incident reminds me of the futuristic Ghost In The Shell anime series, where computer programmers do battle with gangs like the Yakuza.  It would’ve been interesting to see who Anonymous exposed, though.  I bet a lot of U.S. government officials and American bankers were shaking in their boots at the prospect of being outed.

At least for today, keyboards & hard drives won out over guns & machetes.

Previously posted:

MEXICO JUDGE SENTENCES TEENAGE HITMAN TO 3 YEARS

MEXICAN DRUG CARTELS BUILD THEIR OWN ARMORED TANKS

MEXICAN DRUG CARTELS DON’T FUCK AROUND

MURDER KING

]]> http://spizzyblog.com/2011/11/09/anonymous-hackers-go-to-war-with-mexican-drug-cartel/feed/ 7 anonymous Black Pacino hackersXcartels mexicandrugcartel-choppedbodies http://spizzyblog.com/2011/10/31/l-e-p-bogus-boys-dj-green-lantern-now-or-neva-mixtape/ http://spizzyblog.com/2011/10/31/l-e-p-bogus-boys-dj-green-lantern-now-or-neva-mixtape/#comments Tue, 01 Nov 2011 00:02:00 +0000 Black Pacino http://spizzyblog.com/?p=23962 ]]>

Rather than complain about how impotent the genre of Rap has become, I endorse creative artists making good music. L.E.P. Bogus Boys, the hardcore rap duo from Chicago, are at the top of their game right now.  Moonie and G. Count spit well-crafted gangsta shit and unlike many pure lyricists, their beat selection is outstanding.  DJ Drama hosted their last mixtape, Don’t Feed Da Killaz Vol. 3 (which was off the fuckin’ chain).  Now DJ Green Lantern lends his touch to L.E.P.’s latest street album, Now Or Neva, which dropped today.  Music by L.E.P. Bogus Boys comes highly recommended; they’re one of my favorite groups right now.

Download a free copy or have a listen at the sound station embedded below.

Download link: L.E.P. BOGUS BOYS X DJ GREEN LANTERN – NOW OR NEVA [MIXTAPE]

People have gone to great lengths to save the whales, trees and oceans.  Hopefully the same effort will be made to save an “uncontacted,” isolated native tribe in the Amazon jungles of Brazil.  The Panoan Indians were first photographed from the air in 2008 and to this day, have never been contacted by the outside world.  Their first brush with civilization, however, has not been civil.  Peruvian drug traffickers invaded the area after overthrowing a Brazilian guard post set up to protect the forest. Now the tribe is missing and concern for their safety is mounting.

As told by National Geographic:

Five Brazilian Indian rights officials are holding out in a remote jungle outpost in a desperate attempt to protect uncontacted indigenous groups from heavily-armed drug traffickers who have moved into the area from Peru in the past two weeks, according to dispatches from the scene. Officials fear the traffickers may have unleashed a manhunt to track down and exterminate the highly vulnerable tribal populations in order to clear the forests for their coca-growing operations.

The drama began last month, when Asháninka Indians three hours upstream from the base warned by two-way radio that a heavily armed band of intruders had crossed the border from Peru into Brazil. Nearly two weeks later, 40 armed men appeared in the dense forests around the control post, which sits on the banks of the Xinane River, about 20 miles (32 kilometers) inside Brazil’s border in the western Amazonian state of Acre.

Outmanned and outgunned, the FUNAI personnel fled the outpost, which the gang overran on July 23.  It took a week for Brazilian Federal Police and Army troops to respond to the incursion, dropping in by helicopter to regain control of the Xinane base. But the agents withdrew after a sweep of the nearby forest turned up a lone suspect. Unsatisfied with the failure of the police and military to remain in the area, the FUNAI team reoccupied the outpost this past Friday, August 5,  fearing a massacre of the Indians they are duty-bound to protect.

The Xinane outpost is in the same region where Meirelles has twice taken journalists by aircraft on overflights to film and photograph a settlement of uncontacted Indians deep in the forest. Images of naked Indians in red body paint electrified much of the world when broadcast by the BBC earlier this year. In the BBC’s report, Meirelles called the Indians in the clearing below “the last free people on Earth.”

According to Survival International, which advocates for tribal peoples, more than 100 uncontacted tribes remain worldwide and about half live in the remote reaches of the Amazonian rainforest in Peru or Brazil.

Why did it take so long for the Brazilian Police and Army to get involved? Are they scared of the drug gangs like Mexican cops?  If the people sent to protect the tribe knew ruthless traffickers were invading, why weren’t they better armed? The United States meddles in the affairs of countries who don’t want us there, why can’t we send some American muscle to assist an endangered people who really need it? Then again, that’s a question to be asked of many a worldwide crisis.

The missing Amazon tribe is truly the most innocent of victims because they don’t know anything about our wicked “civilization.”  To have it forced upon them in this manner is cold-blooded and barbaric, word to Christopher Columbus.  One can only hope the drug traffickers have some shred of decency and at worst, chase the natives away without harming them.

It remains to be seen if these gangsters have a heart of gold.

Rick Ross got the Triple C’s? Well, I’m gonna trump him with Five C’s: Cars Carrying Cocaine Cross Country.

Guess if you’re gonna ride dirty, you might as well do it in the cleanest whip.

From the Wall Street Journal:

Four men have been arrested and a suspected ringleader was still being sought in a California-to-New York cocaine smuggling ring that used luxury vehicles equipped with secret compartments to send drugs and money cross-country, a prosecutor said Wednesday.

The four suspects in custody were arrested last month on Long Island, Suffolk County District Attorney Thomas Spota said at a press conference. The men were being held on preliminary charges of possession of a controlled substance, but he said upgraded charges were likely against them — and possibly others involved in distributing the cocaine once it got to Long Island — once the case is presented to a grand jury.

The prosecutor said police seized $3 million worth of cocaine, $900,000 in cash, steroids, money counters and other paraphernalia from several locations. Also seized were eight vehicles, including a Mercedes-Benz and two Cadillac SUVs.

Besides the secret compartments, the ring took extra precautions by placing the vehicles on car carriers ordinarily used by legitimate auto dealers. The car carrier companies weren’t aware that drugs were being shipped inside the vehicles, authorities said.

“To give you an idea of the money generated by this ring,” Spota said, “They were purchasing the cocaine in California for $20,500 per kilo — and then selling it in the streets of Suffolk County for a price approximately five times that amount once the cocaine was cut and prepared for distribution.”

Cocaine stashed in a luxury vehicle’s glove compartment, right next to the Grey Poupon.

I think Jay-Z and Kanye deserve a Grey Poupon commercial.

By the way, these drug smugglers are Italian.  Makes sense ‘cuz if they were people of color, the cops would’ve pulled them over and searched their luxury rides within the first mile of the trip.

Guess all these hot cars will be up for auction, eh? If so, check the compartments for kilos before you pull off the lot.  In case of an accident, you don’t want an airbag full of cocaine exploding in your face.

If you’re going to kill people in Mexico, do it while you’re a teenager.

You thought the Casey Anthony verdict was proof of a flawed justice system? That was small potatoes compared to this.  After calmly confessing to torturing and beheading at least four people, American-born 14-year old Edgar Jiminez Lugo was sentenced in a Mexican courtroom on kidnapping and murder charges.  Thing is, he only got THREE YEARS for his crimes, the maximum allowed under law.  Oh… and he was also fined 4.5 million pesos, about $390,000.  Maybe once he’s released from the bing, he’ll repay it monthly like a college loan.

Peep the details from Borderland Beat, who always know what’s poppin with the cartels:

A Mexican judge on Tuesday sentenced a 15-year-old U.S. citizen to three years in prison for organized crime, homicide, kidnapping, and drug and weapons possession.

A judge gave Edgar Jimenez Lugo the maximum sentenced allowed for a minor in the central state of Morelos, said state prosecutor Jose Manuel Serrano Falmerol. Jimenez was tried in a state court because Mexico does not have a justice system to try minors at the federal level.

Authorities say the teenager confessed to working for the South Pacific drug cartel, led by reputed drug lord Hector Beltran Leyva, and to killing four people whose beheaded bodies were hung from a bridge in the tourist city of Cuernavaca.

Jimenez, known as “El Ponchis,” was born in San Diego, California. He and a sister were arrested in December as they tried to board a plane to Tijuana, where they planned to cross the border and reunite with their mother in San Diego.

The two siblings allegedly worked for Julio “El Negro” Padilla, a reputed drug trafficker who authorities say has been fighting for control of the drug trade in Morelos. Morelos was formerly under the control of the Beltran Leyva gang, which broke up after alleged leader Arturo Beltran Leyva was killed in a shootout with Mexican marines a year ago.

Stories of a hit boy, maybe as young as 12, spread after a YouTube video appeared in November with teens mugging for the camera next to corpses and guns. One boy on the video alleged that “El Ponchis” was his accomplice.

This skid-bid is supposed to be punishment but it’s really a blessing for the young assassin.  He can publish a book or sell his story to Hollywood.  Or even better, he can drop a rap album when he’s released from prison.  What rapper has more street cred than El Ponchis? He killed and beheaded a bunch o’ niggaz before his 15th birthday, which guarantees double-platinum at least.

The future is bright. [^_^]

ILLUSTRATION BY ANDREAS ROCHA

First published in 1997, The Mafia Manager: A Guide To The  Corporate Machiavelli was allegedly written by a Mafia wiseguy simply known as V.  According to his bio, V is “a capo of distinguished fame” who “keeps several residences around the world.”  The business guidelines laid out in his now-famous book are garnered from his years of service in The Mob.  Makes perfect sense.  Who knows more about managing a successful business than the world’s oldest  and best-organized conglomerate? Most corporations operate like Mafia families anyway, word to Rupert Murdoch.

Whether you’re a budding entrepreneur, business owner or simply in need of a cool status for Twitter or Facebook, here are 40 quotes about life & business from Mafia Manager.

1.  “The best way to enter our business is to be born into it.”

2.  “The business of the mafia is business.”

3.  “If the pot is boiling over, use a long spoon. If the house is on fire; warm yourself.”

4.  “Our principles are highest; honor, solidarity and vengeance. We know there’s no justice for us except we earn it. We earn respect.”

5.  “All problems resolves themselves; given time.”

6.  “Extreme problems often require extreme solutions.”

7.  “Men stumble on stones, not mountains.”

8.  “Friends are not as important as family. Do not confuse the loyalty of friendship with the bond of blood.”

9.  “The problem with friends is their candor. They will betray you if you let them and then they will tell you to your face why: ‘it’s nothing personal, just business.”

10.  “Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer.”

11.  “A man without enemies is a man without qualities. Even Jesus Christ had many enemies.”

12.  “The world belongs to the patient man.”

13.  “If you can’t win by fighting fair, fight foul. Or have a third party do your fighting.”

14.  “Even a mouse keeps three holes.”

15.  “God will provide, but you must provide till he does.”

16.  “It takes a thousand blows to drive a nail in the dark.”

17.  “The best defense against the treacherous is treachery.”

18.  “A thousand enemies is not enough; a single enemy is. There is nothing as a ‘harmless’ enemy.”

19.  “The best armor is to keep out of range.”

20.  “The best friend of a hungry buzzard is a dead horse. That is in another way of saying; even the son of a bitch has his uses.”

21.  “When you are riding a fast fresh horse, don’t get off and walk it. Ride it as long as it lasts.”

22.  “Eagles don’t hunt flies.”

23.  “When you skate on thin ice, skate fast.”

24.  “In a storm, pray to God but row for shore.”

25.  “When you must cut, persuade the victim you are a surgeon.”

26.  “Good medicine is always bitter.”

27.  “Every remedy of a bad situation has its bad side effects. Choose the remedy with the least.”

28.  “He who pays well is well served.”

29.  “The big drum sounds good only from a distance.”

30.   “Never worry about tomorrow. Tomorrow, you might inherit a million dollars or be run over by a truck. Or inherit a million dollars and be run over by a truck.”

31.  “Money never goes to prison.”

32.   “You can be rich without knowing how to be powerful but you cannot be powerful without money.”

33.   “Never reinforce failure; never marry a losing hand.”

34.   “If you are the anvil, be patient. If you are the hammer; strike.”

35.   “When you compromise, you lose. When you seem to have compromise, you have taken a step towards winning.”

36.  “Fortune is on the side of the strong.”

37.  “For peace to reign, be ready for war.”

38.  “Better your enemies overestimate your stupidity than your shrewdness.”

39.  “After a victory, sharpen your knife.”

40.  “When you hunt, let the game come to you.”

The photo posted above is titled “Padrone E Servi” and it was illustrated by a talented graphic artist named Andreas Rocha.  I dig this picture a lot and kept it stashed away until an opportune time to share it.  Thanks to these quotes from The Mafia Manager, that day has come.

 Previously posted:

WISEGUY WISDOM

There’s a new video game in stores titled Call of Juarez: The Cartel, based on the never-ending drug war in Mexico.  Users can play as a Los Angeles cop, DEA agent or gang affiliate-turned-FBI agent to hunt down cartels from Los Angeles to Ciudad Juarez, a main drug capital in Mexico.  Mexican politicians feel the game portrays their country in a bad light and want the game banned.

Peep this excerpt from Borderland Beat:

The quest begins when a Mexican drug cartel bombs a U.S. law enforcement agency, according to the game’s website. The site urges users to “ignite an all out border war.”

“Experience the lawlessness of today’s Wild West as you hunt down the Cartel before the violence escalates north of the border,” the website brags.

Although the “Call of Duty” games have come under fire for glamorizing the brutality of war, critics say “Call of Juarez” promotes a negative view of Mexico.

The game’s maker, Ubisoft, dismissed the criticism.

“While ‘Call of Juarez: The Cartel’ touches on subjects relevant to current events in Juarez, it does so in a fictional manner that makes the gaming experience feel more like being immersed in an action movie than in a real life situation,” the company said.

But politicians like Ricardo Boone Salmon, a congressman in Mexico’s Chihuahua State, which includes Ciudad Juarez, are still calling for a ban on the game.

“It is true there is a serious crime situation, which we are not trying to hide,” Boone Salmon told The AP. “But we also should not expose children to this kind of scenarios so that they are going to grow up with this kind of image and lack of values.”

I’m on the electric fence about this issue but purely from a gaming perspective, Ubisoft missed a golden opportunity for video game of the year.  Instead of sticking us with cops, they should also let gamers play cartel members.  With the extreme carnage that goes on in Ciudad, Call of Juarez: The Cartel could’ve had iller fatalities than Mortal Kombat.

Rockstar Games, the powerhouse behind the anarchic Grand Theft Auto series, would have been better off designing this one.   GTA already covered the Italian Mafia with Liberty City, L.A. gang wars with San Andreas, Chinese Triads in Chinatown Wars and the Miami underworld in Vice City.

Imagine a game where gangsters battle on the road in customized armor-plated vehicles (a.k.a. Los Monstruous), just like in real-life Mexico.  A player could drive the truck or man the gun-turrets… that shit would be off-the-chain.  It would’ve been more fun to do dirty work for the Zetas, instead of being forced to play a cop like Ice-T.

Speaking of pigs, where are the corrupt DEA agents and sleazy Border Patrol officers in this game? I’d choose one of those characters cuz I’ve always wondered what it would be like to collect extortion money.

In all fairness I haven’t given The Cartel a whirl so it may very well be decent.  The graphics are on-point and I gotta admit, the trailer looks tight (love how they used “Beat The Devil’s Tattoo” by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club as theme music).

Still, if you’re gonna make a video game about Mexican drug cartels you might as well go in just as hard as they do.  Either way, people are gonna be angry.

If anyone plays Call of Juarez, give us a review.

Previously posted:

MEXICAN DRUG GANGS BUILD THEIR OWN ARMORED TANKS

MEXICAN DRUG CARTELS DON’T FUCK AROUND

MURDER KING

]]> http://spizzyblog.com/2011/07/23/politicians-boycott-call-of-juarez-the-cartel-game/feed/ 4 screens_phase2_02tcm2117645 Black Pacino call-of-juarez-the-cartel Call-of-Juarez-The-Cartel-Announced http://spizzyblog.com/2011/07/16/goodie-bag/ http://spizzyblog.com/2011/07/16/goodie-bag/#comments Sat, 16 Jul 2011 04:45:28 +0000 Black Pacino http://spizzyblog.com/?p=21973 ]]>

Wish I could take credit for shooting the above photo but I cannot.  This snapshot of paradise was taken by none other than Sara Jay.  Makes for the perfect screensaver, don’t you think?

While we’re gathered here to oggle this wonderful photo, let’s look at a few nuggets of info:

• Producer DJ Burn One just released The Ashtray, an instrumental album that’s so dope, he oughtta sell it.  But since Burn is a generous guy,  you can download this great collection of beats FREE at The Smoking Section.

• Also at TSS is Sorry 4 The Wait, the latest mixtape by Lil Wayne.  Seems this mixtape was highly-anticipated by everyone but me.  Nothing against Weezy, I just live under a rock.  Apparently there’s some worthwhile shit on it, so Lil Wayne fans should get a free download.

• Complex Magazine just released a much-talked about list called The Top 100 Hottest Porn Stars.  Good to see some of my faves like Asa Akira (#4) and Jynx Maze (#16) on there, though it would’ve been nice to see more starlets of color in the mix.  A quarter of the ladies on this prestigious list are signed to premier talent agency  LA Models.  Tory Black (#1), Sunny Leone, Jenaveve Jolie and sexy-as-hell Yurizan Beltran (pictured below) are just some of the 25 honorees represented by LA Models.  “To be chosen with so many incredible stars is a great feeling,” says Beltran.  Talk about having a loaded team.  Did your favorite starlet make the Top 100?

• This year, skeletons are tumbling out of the closet  about the deaths of both Tupac and Biggie.  HipHopDx has an interesting article called Clayton Hill: Confessions of Fire.  Clayton Hill is a rogue Nation of Islam member who claims involvement in covering up the murder of Notorious B.I.G.  Perhaps Mr. Hill was inspired by Dexter Issac, the inmate who confessed to robbing Tupac at Quad Studios in 1994.  Can’t be certain if Hill’s confession is 100% accurate or if he’s just seeking to profit but nevertheless it’s a fascinating and jaw-dropping read.

Nothing else to report.  I just needed an excuse to post those bronzed beach bunnies.  Carry on.

TREATMENT WRITTEN BY DETECTIVE WILLIAM COURTNEY

A can of worms was opened last week when prison inmate Dexter Issac, an associate of hip-hop mogul/gangster James “Jimmy Henchmen” Rosemon, claimed he was paid by Henchmen to rob Tupac at Quad Studios in 1994.

There is currently a nationwide manhunt for Jimmy Henchmen, who is wanted by the Feds for everything from cocaine distribution to murder.  Of course, Mr. Henchmen denies these charges.

With the skeletons of the 90′s resurfacing, now is an ideal time to revisit the story of another shadowy figure and Henchmen associate  involved in the Tupac case: Haitian Jack.  For the uninformed, Brooklyn’s own Haitian Jack  (pictured above with Tupac) is one of the most feared gangsters ever to walk the streets.  He basically strong-armed his way into the inner circles of both Biggie and Pac.

A detective by the name of William Courtney, who claims to have intimate knowledge of Haitian Jack through his investigation, wrote a movie treatment about the infamous urban legend.  This treatment has been online for a while now but last night I read it for the first time and it totally blew my mind.  Not only is it a gripping story that held my interest from start to finish, it also intertwines many famous names and groundbreaking incidents. By no means am I suggesting this is all factual; only the parties involved know that.  It’s a fascinating read nonetheless.

Seems it was only available via PDF file with excerpts scattered throughout the internet.  But below the jump, you will find this document posted in its entirety.

Shit is deep, yo…

Treatment for HAITIAN JACK

A story based on the real life exploits of the music industry’s most notorious gangster and the members of law enforcement who controlled him.

William Courtney Title and Concept Registered WGAW and Library of Congress Copyright Office May 23, 2009

“Listen while I take you back (NIGGA SAY HIS NAME!) and lace this rap A real live tale about a snitch named Haitian Jack Knew he was working for the feds, same crime, different trials Nigga, picture what he said, and did I mention Promised a payback, Jimmy Henchman, in due time I know you bitch niggas is listenin, The World Is Mine…”

‘Against All Odds’ -Tupac Shakur

Haitian Jack was the most feared man in the music industry. Jack, AKA Jacques Agnant, was born in Haiti to a family of privileged politicians. They were highly educated professionals. His older siblings attended medical schools and universities in the United States. His family attended parties at ‘Baby Doc’ Duvalier’s mansion. After the coup, his family fled to Brooklyn, New York with limited funds and connections. Jack, speaking only French, was placed in a tough, local public school and forced to fight on a daily basis. He became one of the toughest street thugs in the history of Brooklyn, New York.

Jack began committing burglaries during his teen years. He specialized in drug dealers’ apartments. Jack formed a gang known as the Black Mafia. He recruited the toughest street robbers in the borough. His posse consisted of thugs such as, Tut, Nubs, Stretch, and other sociopaths, all looking to cash in on the drug economy. His crew was so feared; they could walk down the lines of New York’s hottest night clubs and take every drug dealer’s Rolex and wallet without as much as a peep. Jack began befriending such people as Mike Tyson and some local professional ball players. He used his charm to get into their pockets and when that failed, he produced a firearm. He invented the ‘friendly’ extortion game in the Black community. He is said to be the only man Mike Tyson ever feared.

In the early 1990′s, rap music could be heard on every comer of Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn -a neighborhood so bad, the local residents coined the saying ‘Bed-Stuy Do or Die.’ Jack went out of his way to get to know Biggie Smalls, a young, local rap artist with a lot of promise. Tupac Shakur heard about Biggie, travelled to Brooklyn, and the two began to perform together. Tupac put Biggie on the map. Biggie introduced Jack to Tupac, a day that would forever seal Mr. Shakur’s fate. Jack felt that rap artists should pay homage to him; after all, he lived the life they exploited through song.

Jack and Tupac hit it off. Tupac loved Jack’s street creds and the feeling of power this mobster exuded through his swagger and earned reputation. He wanted what Jack had almost more than fame and fortune. Jack provided protection, women, and marijuana. Tupac picked up the tab at all the hot clubs. Jack was unofficially managing Tupac; the two were inseparable. The duo found themselves partying at clubs such as Nell’s with the likes of Madonna and other hot stars. Jack felt that his ride with Tupac would never end.

Jack whispered in a girl’s ear one evening at Nell’s. She smiled and walked over to Tupac. The two danced and later returned to his hotel suite. The following day she returned. Tupac took her to his room; they began having sex when Jack’s crew entered the room. The young woman became the victim of date rape. She left in tears. The police later arrived and arrested Jack and Tupac. The two hired the best attorneys and planned strategy for their defense. Jack’s attorney, Paul Brenner, decided to sever Jack’s case from Shakur’s. He got Jack a six-month plea deal. The Manhattan D.A.’s office wasn’t so kind to Tupac. He went to trial, was found guilty, and was due back in court for sentencing at a later date.

Tupac felt betrayed by Jack. He thought they should have gone to trial together. He knew Jack could handle prison; he wasn’t so sure about himself. Tupac stopped taking calls from Jack and his crew. Tupac began clubbing again. He returned to Nell’s and made a fatal mistake: he commented on Jack’s criminal dealings to New York Post reporter AJ. Benza. After making Page Six the following day, Jack plotted his revenge.

Puff Daddy feared Jack so much, he once handed him ten grand and his Rolex. Jacks’ crew coaxed Shakur to Quad Studios in Manhattan to lay down some tracks with Puff Daddy’s Bad Boy roster. Tupac entered the lobby with one of Jack’s crew, a kid named Stretch Walker. Jack’s boys confronted Tupac in the lobby. He resisted a beat down and was shot several times, suffering gunshot wounds to the head and groin. Stretch was shot in the melee as well. Shakur felt that Puffy and Biggie had set him up. He was sentenced to prison a few weeks later. Jack’s muscle within the prison system relentlessly sought Shakur out. One day, Tupac received a visit from Los Angeles gangster and owner of Death Row Records, Marion ‘Suge’ Knight. Suge convinced Tupac to sign with his label. The east coast-west coast wars were set in motion.

Years of violence between Bad Boy and Death Row left Biggie Smalls and Tupac Shakur dead. Knight’s organization had been crippled by numerous police investigations. Jack reinvented himself through The Fugees; Wyclef Jeans’ pockets were deep and Jack had both hands in them. Wyclef didn’t mind so much. Jack was a fellow Haitian and he kept all the extortion crews far away. After touring with the Fugees, Jack fell in love with Beverly Hills. He started his own management company and attached himself to artists’ publishing rights by way of fear and the gun. He broke ranks and had amassed a small fortune. Jack wasn’t happy though; he wanted more.

In 1997, Tupac was killed in Vegas and Biggie was later murdered in Los Angeles. Haitian Jack broke ranks from his crew. Nubs was murdered, and Tut went away on a Rico. The rest were bottom feeders unable to drive through the Hills without attracting attention. Jack was solo. Haitian knew he could have problems with L.A. gang members, so he established a geographical zone to stay in. He never ventured farther north of Sunset, south of Pico, east of Fairfax, orwestofthe405. It kept him away from gang bangers and the police. Jack was getting rich, but he was also getting bored.

Detective Bill Courtney was an undercover detective in the NYPD’s elite Intelligence Division. He was given his own unit and tasked with an impossible mission: taking the mob out of the music industry. Bill knew Jack’s rep from back in his Robbery Squad days. He had heard about Jack again while assigned to the DEA. Jack had robbed half the drug dealers in New York. Wire taps were abuzz about being done by the ‘Haitian One’, but no one knew where he had gone. His name was legendary, as the killer of Tupac. A little homework revealed that Jack had never earned his citizenship. As a predicate felon, Jack was deportable. Bill felt that if he found Jack, he could make him an offer he couldn’t refuse: join Team America or go back to Haiti.

One of the last times Bill heard about Jack was on the ‘Kendu’ case. Bill’s wiretap took down East New York’s biggest drug dealer, Darryl “Kendu’ Riley. A cooperator told an interesting story about Jack back when Tut was still on the streets. Jack and Tut once kicked in the door of Kendu’s top lieutenant, a gunslinger named T.T. They stole hi8 stash and threatened to kill his girlfriend if she called the police. His girlfriend Crystal foolishly called 911 as T.T. was rushing home to her aid. He beat the cops to the apartment. When the police entered, they found one of his AK-47′s under a bed. He was the victim of a robbery and now he was going to prison. Jacks’ crew later raped Crystal to keep her from testifying. T.T. wouldn’t cooperate, but a source of information on the case promised to deliver Jack.

Bill revisited the source, who was more than happy to help. The subject told him an interesting story about Jack’s exploits. One day the source was standing with a group of males in the East New York section of Brooklyn. Jack drove by, saw them and decided to stop and say hello. Jack exited his vehicle and exchanged pleasantries with the gang. The men heard muffled moaning and banging sounds coming from Jack’s trunk. Jack smiled, popped the trunk which exposed a dark skinned African male, bound and gagged with duct tape. Jack pulled the tape from the African’s mouth and said ‘Nigga where’s the money?’ The male cried ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jack placed the tape back over his mouth and shut the trunk. Jack smiled at the group and exclaimed ‘Nigga needs another hour!’ They laughed; Jack changed the subject and eventually drove off. No one knew the male or his outcome.

The source slept with half of Jack’s girlfriends, who reported on Jack’s whereabouts. He knew where Haitian dined every Friday night: the L’Ermitage Hotel in Beverly Hills. Bill made some inquiries and was referred to a sharp Los Angeles Sheriffs Department detective named Mark Gayman. Bill called Mark on and off for weeks, with no response. Mark was making calls, checking Bill out. Mark kept a tight ship on his informants and cases. Like Bill, he dreaded dealing with the F.B.I. An Orange County D.A.’s investigator cleared Bill and they started talking. Mark had learned that Jack was doing music industry scams with an L.A. mobster named Ori Spado. Ori sought Jack out to rob Colombian drugs dealers with stash houses in Beverly Hills.

Bill sent a photo out and Mark visited the L’Ermitage Hotel. The head of security knew him and confirmed that he was in fact a regular. Bill hopped on a plane with an INS warrant in hand and met with Mark at a bar on the Sunset Strip. They talked about Jack, police work, and their constant battles with the Bureau. During the briefing, Mark received a call from the L’Ermitage, Jack was at dinner a day earlier than usual. The two saddled up and visited the hotel. Mark brokered a deal with the Beverly Hills P.D. for backup and promised the hotel to wait for Jack to leave before pouncing on him. One problem… Jack dined for four or more hours at a clip.

Jack sat with a female and another couple in their high-end private dining room. Bill and Mark decided to wait in the lobby, occasionally monitoring the happy couple’s dining experience. The elevator doors opened in the lobby and actor James Woods stepped off. He saw Mark and came over to say hello. Mark had known James for some time. Mark introduced his new NYPD buddy to Mr. Woods, who proceeded to tell an interesting story he knew the New Yorker would enjoy.

James Woods was a passenger on a New York-to-Los Angeles flight when he observed males gesturing to each other with hand signals every time the flight attendants opened the cabin doors to service the flight crew. They did this repeatedly and were alarmingly open and obvious about it, at least to Mr. Woods. He petitioned the flight attendant in First Class repeatedly to secure the plane and call the authorities. She forced herself to show interest and finally told Mr. Woods that the police would meet the plane at LAX. When the plane landed at LAX, Mr. Woods was asked to remain seated and was assured that the authorities were waiting for this strange group at the gate. After the plane emptied, two F.B.I. agents boarded the plane to interview Mr. Woods. The police didn’t detain anyone. They listened to Mr. Woods’ story and took a report. Weeks later, those males became famous as the 9/11 hijackers.

James Woods went on his way, and Bill and Mark talked about the story and the Bureau once again. They took seats at the bar, ordered some drinks, and waited for the Agnant Party to finish up. Finally, Jack’s party was on the move. Bill and Mark followed them to the valet and got Beverly Hills P.D. on the ready. The cruisers stopped Jack a few blocks away with one of the longest felony vehicle stops in the history of California. Officers critiqued each other as they pulled passengers from the car. It was bizarre. One woman was the Minister of Gabon, Africa’s daughter, known to the locals as a money launderer. Finally, everyone was identified and cut loose, except for Jack of course.

At the Beverly Hills P.D. interrogation room, Bill worked on Jack for two hours. Jack agreed it would be a shame to send such a fine Haitian American back to his homeland. He agreed to join Team America. Jack was shipped off to Terminal Island on an INS hold. Bill had to move fast to get Jack paroled to him, a task that required a U.S. Attorney, I.N.S. approval, and a mountain of federal bureaucracy. Bill petitioned his favorite U.S. Attorney in the Eastern District of New York, Tracy Lee Dayton. Tracy and Bill worked together, partied together, and were almost car jacked in Baltimore six months earlier. Bill gave Tracy the rundown. She flew out to L.A. and got Jack out about six weeks later.

Mark picked up Jack at Terminal Island, signed Bill’s name to the parole paperwork, and drove Jack back to Beverly Hills. Jack promised Mark he would sleep with three women that night to celebrate. Mark called Bill and put Jack on speakerphone. Jack promised to deliver good Intel, the occasional bad guy, and to be well behaved. This was a scary prospect, putting Jack out on the street. Tracy’s name was riding on it. Bill and Mark wouldn’t fare well with any mishaps either. Bill and Tracy opened an OCDETF case in New York. This provided funds for travel, informant payments, and any equipment necessary needed for the furtherance of justice. The goal was to utilize Jack to take out Organized Crime in the music industry. Bill and Mark didn’t know it, but the case would last for seven years, net huge seizures, and remove a lot of bad guys from the entertainment industry.

With a full war chest, Bill decided to head west. He and Mark hit it off and had similar styles in policing. Bill grabbed a hotel room in Beverly Hills and Mark moved into the suite for the week. They hit all the mob bars at night and dropped business cards everywhere. They put the word out that NYPD and LAPD were working together and meant business. Calls started coming in; bad guys were feeling uneasy. The boys invited Jack over for his first debriefing. Jack loved telling war stories. He spoke about how hard it was to rob a stash house. He had to convince people that he really was the police, steal their money or drugs, which were usually quite heavy, and then escape, sometimes with heavy gunfire coming from both sides. He talked about Tupac and how foolish he was. He denied any knowledge of the killing.

A month or two later, Bill received a call from a hit man-turned-informant back east. The hit man had been approached to kill rap artist 50 Cent. He gave the hit over to an associate named Ta Ta. Bill brokered a deal through Jimmy Iovine at Interscope Records to get access to 50′s camp and prevent the murder. Mark got a posse of deputies together and off they went for two night’s of rap at the House of Blues. At the end of the second night, Bill and Mark went to speak with 50 and his manger, Chris Lighty. As they were escorted to his table, they saw Jack sitting with 50 Cent, pointing his finger at the rap artist. Jack, 50, and his manager all seemed to have heart attacks as Bill and Mark approached. Jack excused himself and a serious conversation ensued.

Chris and 50 wanted nothing to do with solving the last attempt on his life. His album was number one and they knew they were on their way to untold riches. When asked about the light-skinned gentleman who had just left the table, the duo shrugged and said he was an A&R guy from the label. Bill and Mark pulled Jack in later on. Jack went on to tell them that 50 had promised him a young R&B singer named Governor. When asked why, Jack just smiled. Jack needed some more discipline; it was hard to keep Jack in check. Bill and Mark texted Jack on his Blackberry later on that night: it was the weather report in Haiti. Jack texted back, ‘Very funny, I’ll be good.’

In a few months, Bill and Mark were running strong. Mark was pulling in some great cases: hits on music industry executives, pump-and-dump scams, extortion of a variety of artists, and other mayhem. Bill stayed around to help whenever he could. One day, Mark received a call from a solid informant, who reported that a mobster named Ori Spado had a big marijuana connection through a guy named Haitian Jack. Ori was Mark’s initial reason for looking into Haitian Jack. The two were orchestrating the transportation of marijuana from Canada to Syracuse, New York. Once the pot hit the private airport, Pagan MC Members from Long Island would transport the contraband down to New York City. A meet was scheduled the next day in a midtown hotel.

Bill got his crew together and established surveillance at the hotel. Mark had limited contact with the informant. Mark called to tell Bill the meeting was ending; the crew was leaving the hotel with the buyers. Bill saw Ori and his crew leave with two Palestinian males. Bill’s team followed the Palestinians. A license plate check revealed that the occupants were the famous Ayesh brothers from Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. The Ayesh brothers were known to the F.B.I as marijuana and methamphetamine dealers.

They laundered their money home through funds established for Palestinian relief that were nothing more than fronts for Hamas and the P.L.O. Bill called the Joint Terrorism Task Force and flipped them the case. They were quite happy to finally have the Ayesh clan. They established surveillance and months later took down the Pagans and Palestinian connection. Jack was becoming a serious liability.

Bill received a call from investigators at ~he Bureau of Prisons. Members of their Intelligence Division intercepted prison calls from Five-Percent Nation leader Kenneth ‘Supreme’ McGriff. Supreme had instructed his top lieutenant to ‘check out’ Detective Courtney. A week later when Bill was exiting a plane in Richmond, Virginia, he checked his voicemail and received a chilling message: the sound of a semi-automatic pistol being racked back and fired. Bill’s home in New York was placed under surveillance, complete with Kevlar curtains and panic buttons throughout the house.

Bill decided to get Jack on it. When Jack took the call, he became enraged. He told Bill that he knew who the guys were and would take care of them. Bill told Jack the connection was bad and instructed him to call back from a payphone. Jack called back an hour later. Bill ripped into him. Bill told Jack that his phone could be tapped at any moment and really wasn’t particularly happy about getting involved in a murder conspiracy with him. Jack apologized and told him that he would make inquiries just like the police, only with faster results. Bill called Mark and talked. Haitian was great for getting bad guys numbers, locating fugitives, and having the inside info on all the scams in the music industry, but he was becoming a nuisance. Mark decided to follow him around.

Jack called Bill often to complain. He became Jack’s father confessor. Jack complained that Lyor Cohen and Dr. Dre had produced Governor’s album and were demanding a million dollars for the production. They wouldn’t wait for album sales to pay the tab. Jack wanted to know how to make them comply without, you know, hurting them. Lyor and Dre had off-duty law enforcement as security; getting to them was impossible. Jack also complained about suing Tupac’s estate for damages. Tupac alleges that Jack was a rat in the song ‘Against All Odds’. It wasn’t true. The case was thrown out of federal court. Bill told Jack if he won, Bill would give him up. He wasn’t the least bit amused.

For a month, Mark followed Jack all over the Hills and documented every step. He knew Jack would mess up sooner or later, but wanted to show he and Bill had tried to keep him in check. Mark pulled Jack over one day and told him Bill wanted to jam up some guys from 50′s Posse. Jack threw a party at a restaurant in the Hills called Crustacean. He invited 50′s crew and a lot of famous artists. Mark wired Bill up and sent him in the restaurant. The goal was to get 50′s guys on tape, talking about a feud they had back east. Jack introduced him to Aretha Franklin and placed him at her table. Stevie Wonder later joined the fray. It was bizarre. Bill decided to have smoke.

Out on the smoking deck, several local gangsters had spied Bill talking to Jack. They took him for a gangster. An Armenian male approached Bill and asked him what he did. Bill told him he ran a warehouse back in Brooklyn. The male smiled and told him he could put some ladies in the warehouse. Bills’ wire was transmitting to a surveillance truck a few blocks away. Bills’ phone started to ring off the hook. Bill saw Mark trying to ring in, but tried to ignore it; he was in the middle of a drug deal after all. Finally, Bill gave in and excused himself to call Mark. Before Bill could speak, Mark told him that the male talking to him was one of his operatives. Get away and we’ll set him straight later on. 50′s guys never showed. Bill decided to hang with Stevie and Aretha for the rest of the evening.

Bill and Mark had run nonstop for a year, grabbing fugitives, handling mob cases, and terrorizing the local Mafia community. Jack went missing and didn’t answer his phone. Bill received a call from a trusted informant: Calls to Miami P.D. revealed numerous shootings, but no deaths or reports to confirm the tip. Things were getting out of control. Tracy Dayton’s husband had cancer and was dying; Bill didn’t have the heart or nerve to give her an update.

One Sunday afternoon, Bill was back east sitting in his office, a secret offsite location in the old Nabisco Cookie Factory in Chelsea. Mark told Bill to sit down. It seemed that Jack and female rap artist M.C. Lyte were in a West Hollywood club when some Black Mafia Family members disrespected Jack. Jack calmly left the club with the rapper and returned a few minutes later. Jack was laughing hysterically, yelling ‘where you guys at?’ He found his target and chased him under some tables in the club, calmly shooting the male in the legs and smiling quite proudly. He calmly exited the club. One of Mark’s informants was in the club and decided to make the call.

Bill hung up the phone and called the airlines. Bill left a message for Jack: ‘I finally have your S Visa and you’re officially a U.S. citizen.’ Jack called Bill back hours later. With a lump in his throat, he told Bill how much he loved him and what a straight up guy he was. He told Bill that he had some problems, but ”we’ll talk when you get here”. Bill arranged for Jack to meet him at the Hyatt House on the Sunset Strip. Jack came inside and ventured up to the upstairs lobby and gave Bill a hug. Bill introduced Jack to U.S. Marshal Tony Burke and had a chat. Bill told Jack to stand up and the West Hollywood detective squad rushed out of a nearby conference room and jumped him. He looked up from the ground and calmly said, ‘You lied to me, Bill.’

Bill took Jack’s keys and sent a West Hollywood detective to get a search warrant for Jack’s apartment. Hours later they were inside. It was the most tastefully decorated apartment Bill had ever seen and Bill knew some well-to-do people. The gun was found rather quickly. There was also a large safe in the apartment. Bill called a locksmith. The locksmith called the safe company with his credentials. They received the original safe code; Jack had never changed it and the safe popped right open. Inside, they found a large amount of crisp, new U.S. currency and a cache of photos. Amongst the pictures were racy photos of Madonna with another woman, a photo of Jack and Tupac giving the finger, and a photo of Jack and President Clinton.

Bill fought his way out of the apartment with the photos, promising the search team copies. Bill visited Jack in the lockup. Jack told Bill he was foolish to recover the gun; after all, his victim had been paid off and Bill really could have used him. Jack explained the photos recovered from his apartment. Haitian used to sleep with a Beverly Hills socialite. She raised money for the Foster Care program. Jack delivered top name artists to her fundraising galas. Jack raised more money than anyone in the history of Foster Care fundraising. They made Jack Man of the Year, a title he shared with President Clinton. The two shared a photo at an event honoring their efforts. If the Secret Service only knew…..

Jack talked about the old days and how lucky he was. He told Bill that he would come through, but Bill knew that Jack had played everyone all along. Jack took a plea and was deported to Haiti a year later. Mark and Bill still get calls about Jack… he returns once in a while to visit, but knows staying is a mandatory five-year sentence if caught. Last Bill and Mark heard, Jack was managing Shaquille O’Neal. Apparently Shaq had some problems in Miami that Jack took care of.

Jack now resides legally in the Dominican Republic. He is supported by Wyc1ef Jean, and whatever riches he has stashed over the years. He was truly the greatest gangster ever to manipulate the music industry. He was charming, funny, and charismatic. He was also a killer. If his mother had filled out his Visa application properly, he would still be driving around in his little piece of Los Angeles.

The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs. There’s also a negative side.

William Courtney Thursday May 21, 2009

WORDS BY PACINO718

American drug dealers “pimp” their rides to look fly and impress the hoes.  In Mexico, however, drug dealers customize their rides into souped-up war machines of mass destruction.

As if the beheading and disembowelment of rivals wasn’t crazy enough, feuding drug cartels are now doing battle in armor-plated, Terminator-like vehicles dubbed “Los Monstruous” (The Monsters).

According to The Miami Herald:

MEXICO CITY — Mexico’s rival crime gangs are in an arms race, and the latest sign of that are the homemade “Mad Max”-type heavily armored vehicles they deploy to withstand fierce clashes with each other.  The army found two more “narco tanks” over the weekend in Ciudad Camargo in Tamaulipas state along the border with Texas.

In earlier discoveries in April and May, armored vehicles found by authorities contained swiveling turrets, snipers’ peepholes and gadgets to dump oil and scatter tire-puncturing nails on roadways. 

The latest discovery showed that the gangs are upping their game.  The two armored vehicles were cloaked in inch-thick steel plating. Built on a three-axle truck bed with a heavily armored cabin, the latest “narco tanks” are far larger than previous versions.

“You can easily fit 20 armed people in here,” an unidentified army officer told El Porvenir TV as he showed the inside of one of the vehicles.

The officer said the vehicles could withstand fire from 50-caliber mounted weapons and grenade blasts, and contained a vicious pointed steel battering ram.

Shit, their trucks ain’t equipped with bazooka subwoofers,  they’re equipped with actual bazookas.  Puts a whole new spin on drive-by shootings, eh? Even the cops are scared.  I gotta give it to these drug cartels, they’re escalating their beef to resourceful new levels.

Guess they’re putting their heads together…

If this ain’t enough Mexican mayhem for you, check out MEXICAN DRUG CARTELS DON’T FUCK AROUND and MURDER KING, which feature bodies riddled with bullets and knives.  Holland wants to criminalize marijuana now, huh? They’d better take a look at these stories and decide if it’s worth it.

WORDS BY KHALID STRICKLAND a.k.a. BLACK PACINO

I’ma keep it funky.

In the hood, multiple Arab-owned grocery stores peacefully co-exist on one block and swap workers every so often.  The same holds true with Chinese restaurants.  These businesses pool their money together for the good of their respective ethnic groups.  Meanwhile, black folks can’t even look at one another the wrong way without somebody gettin’ shot.  We’ve always been our own worst enemy.  It makes me wanna join the Klan.. and I ain’t talkin’ about Wu-Tang.

T. Rodgers, the reformed co-founder of the Bloods street gang, told an interesting story a while back.  Rodgers has a close friend who is Jewish. One day, this Jewish buddy asked Rodgers out of curiosity, “What did your parents teach you? What do you remember as their biggest lesson?”

Rodgers answered the way most prideful black men from the ghetto would:

“They taught me not to take shit from anybody.  If somebody hits you, then hit them back twice as hard.  Keep your head held high.  Don’t let nobody punk you and don’t ever run from a fight.”

Then Rodgers asked his Jewish friend what his parents taught him.  His friend’s curt response:

“Help another Jew.”

Explains a lot, doesn’t it?

A lotta black folks spend so much time trying to intimidate each other that joining forces for a common cause never crosses our minds.  That’s why you see 50 niggas on the block mean-muggin everybody, walking around with pitbulls they can barely control.  That’s why our concerts and parties always seem to end with violence. Even when we rap and have millions of dollars, we’re still at each others throats over some dumb shit.

You ever visit somebody in another hood and there’s 20 niggas blocking the doorway to their building? You politely say “Pardon me, fam” but nobody wants to move… and if they do, it’s not without a staredown.  That’s cuz in the hood, common courtesy is seen as form of weakness.  I served my tour of duty on the block so I understand the need for toughness.  But sometimes, the shit gets plain foolish.  For many of us, our goal is simply to be the hardest nigga on Earth, especially this younger generation.  Whereas other races, for the most part, are conditioned to help each other first & foremost.

Hmmmm.  Black people helping each other.  What an odd yet fascinating concept.  But it could work.

PARANOIA BY BLACK PACINO

Ding dong, the A-rab’s dead!

Congrats to those who take everything at face value, you finally got your man.  Allegedly, Osama Bin laden was killed by U.S. troops in Pakistan on May 1st (the same day Hitler was declared dead).  On cue, Americans took to the streets to celebrate and rappers quickly recorded “Bin Laden Is Dead” mixtapes.  President Obama made a speech declaring that the Al Queda terror boss got whacked and now the world is a better place.  *Roll end credits*

I’m a paranoid conspiracy theorist, especially when I’m high (which is most of the time).  Right or wrong, I believe that Bin Laden has been dead for some time now, only to be conjured up like a boogeyman when the American government needed to scare the public.  Like Gangster Disciples in a housing project, the American government rules through fear.

During a live interview with David Frost on November 2007, the late Benazir Bhutto matter-of-factly stated that Bin Laden was murdered by Ahmed Omar Saeed Sheikh, the man convicted of kidnapping and killing journalist Daniel Pearl.  Ironically, Bhutto herself was assassinated shortly after this interview took place.

The king of conspiracy-theorists, Alex Jones, has a post at his site called Red Alert: Government Had Osama Bin Laden Frozen For Years, claiming that Bin Laden died from kidney failure in early 2002.  According to Jones, Bin Laden’s corpse was kept on ice just in case George W. Bush needed a trump card for his re-election.  You can read the article HERE but Alex Jones’ site has been malfunctioning all day, as if some strange mysterious force does not want this information to be shared.  Hmmm… God perhaps?

Regardless of what you believe, one thing is for certain: There will be retaliation for Osama Bin Laden’s death.  Everything happens for a reason… 9/11 happened because the American government needed a catastrophe to  justify shredding the Constitution.  And when it was announced that Bin Laden was killed, another 5,000 Bin Ladens were born.  Guess it’s time for me to move the fuck outta New York City and relocate to a log cabin in the woods.  Shit is about to get ugly.

God bless America… and no place else. *Salute*

WORDS BY PACINO718

Another postcard from sunny Mexico!

You think your day was bad? This guy’s day was worse.  He’s a victim of the Zetas, one of Mexico’s most brutal and feared drug gangs.  I don’t know what the fuck homeboy did to deserve this but the Zetas sent a pretty powerful message.  Reincarnation won’t help him; they stabbed him enough for two lifetimes.  Click the pic for a full spectrum of the carnage.

I just wanted to post the pic cuz the shit is ill… but I’m obligated to provide a tidbit of cartel trivia from Reuters:

A decade ago, they were a small group of elite Mexican soldiers who saw a chance to make a lot more money working as hitmen for powerful drug cartels.  Today, the “Zetas” are the most feared gang in Mexico. Their vicious tactics, geographic reach and expansion into new illegal businesses presents a new kind of threat in a drugs war that has already killed 29,000 people since late 2006.

President Felipe Calderon’s government is going after the Zetas and half a dozen other major cartels moving billions of dollars worth of cocaine and other drugs to U.S. consumers each year.

While the Zetas, believed to number in the thousands, are not Mexico’s top drug runners, their size and sheer brutality makes them a high-profile target as the government struggles to shake an image that violence is slipping out of control.  The drugs war is an added burden for Mexico as it slowly climbs out of recession, and Mexicans are weary of the frequent beheadings, bodies strung from bridges and other gory crimes.

The Zetas, started in the late 1990s by about 40 soldiers who deserted from army special forces to work as muscle for the Gulf Cartel, are central characters in the drama.

“Even by the standards of Mexican drug wars, they are willing to go to a level of brutality that others are not,” U.S. defense analyst Hal Brands said.

The official said the Zetas could have as many as 10,000 members across Mexico, Central America and the United States, bigger than other Mexican cartels — although the bulk are likely small-time criminal affiliates who pay tribute to the cartel rather than full-blown members.

Hopefully that shined a little light on the subject.  If you’ve got a hankering for more horror stories and stomach-churning photos from the Mexican frontline, check my post on the murder capital of the world, Ciudad Juarez: MURDER KING.

Okay, time to post some booty.

THROWBACK BY KHALID STRICKLAND a.k.a. BLACK PACINO

A long time ago, in a ghetto far away…

Let me start by saying that I don’t actually slang the dope, I just bag it. And this is only a temp job until I find something legal… or at least until Jose returns from Puerto Rico to reclaim this crummy gig. But since he fled The States with charges pending, I doubt he’ll be back anytime soon.

My game is weed but in these desperate times I’m willing to pinch-hit in another sport. Jose’s cousin Flaco runs this spot and right now he’s in the shower freshening up for Lisa; she’ll be here for him a lil’ later. By then, I’ll be done baggin this shit up.

At first I needed the electric scale to measure off the grams but after an hour I know exactly how much to bag. Repetition is an exercise.

The intercom rings and Flaco, with his almost indecipherable Spanish accent, yells from the bathroom: “Could you answer that, Kha?”

I wipe my hands, get up from the table and answer the intercom.

“Who?”

“It’s Brad,” replies a chipper voice over the intercom.

I put the visitor on pause and shout at Flaco.

“Yo, Flock! Brad is at the door. Sounds like a whiteboy.”

“Yeah, he a custie,” Flaco yells from the back room. “It’s all good, buzz him in.”

I push the button. Seconds later, the doorbell chimes and I look through the peephole. Two white dudes, both sharply-dressed in business suits and holding leather briefcases, wait to enter. I open the door and let them in.

“Thanks, buddy,” says the first guy to enter.  He extends his hand for a shake.  ”I’m Brad.”

And I’m a nigga who don’t give a fuck. I leave Brad hangin, sit down at the table and continue to package the work.  Fiends are fiends whether they’re toothless and dressed in second-hand Karl Kani, or clean-cut Harvard graduates in Armani suits.

Flaco finally walks into the room shirtless, drying his hair with a towel. But once he catches a glimpse of the preppy duo, Flock becomes extremely angry.

“What the fuck, mang?” Flaco barks, pointing at Brad’s friend. “I told you not to bring nobody down here! Just you, alone! I already told you that!”

Brad chuckles nervously.

“Hey… he’s cool, Flock. Jim is my dude,” Brad assures.  Then he pushes the envelope with a hot-button phrase that I know will set Flaco off:

“It’s OK.”

Before Brad can continue, Flaco immediately cuts him off.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Flaco asks as he gets in Brad’s face.

Brad clams up to measure his words. It’s too late now, though. Flaco’s combustible temper has been stoked. Brad’s fear is justified; Flock may be lean but his upper body is chiseled like a welterweight boxer.

Where’s that bag o’ Haze in my pocket? This is an opportune time for a smoke break.

“It’s okay? Is that what you said?” Flaco asks before turning and looking at me incredulously. “You hear this chit, Kha? Why do blancos love to say it’s okay?”

I shrug my shoulders and proceed to roll a fat spliff.  Flock turns his wrath back on poor Brad.

“No, muthafucka… it AIN’T okay,” Flock unloads. “It ain’t okay cuz I’m tellin’ you it ain’t okay. How you you gonna come into MY place of business and tell ME what’s okay?”

Brad is stuttering now.  I don’t want to add levity to the situation but I’m not sure how much longer I can control my laughter.

“Listen here,” Flaco says, poking his finger into Brad’s chest for emphasis. “You blancos are takin over our hood but you don’t own shit in this apartment. You ain’t Christopher Columbus and I ain’t no fuckin Indian.”

Ha! I didn’t know Flock was so poetic.

“This is the rule,” Flaco snarls, nose-to-nose with Brad. “Nobody but you comes down here, you got that? And if you do this chit again, I’mma beat you… AND whoever you bring down here… within an inch of your fuckin lives.  You got dat?”

A demoralized Brad nods in agreement.

“Good,” Flaco says.  “Now what you want?”

“I’ll take four, please,” Brad skittishly replies.

“Ayo, Kha!” Flaco says without taking his eyes off Brad.  “Serve this muthafucka.”

I grab four baggies from the table and hand them to the reprimanded whiteboy.  Once money is exchanged, the shook duo quickly head for the exit.

“Sorry about that, Flock.  No hard feelings, eh?” Brad says from the hallway.

Flaco replies by slamming the door in his face.  And with that, I burst into laughter and spark the freshly-rolled Haze.  A grin creeps across Flock’s face as sits in a chair beside me.

“I don’t get it, mang.  Why do white people love to say it’s okay?” he asks me rhetorically.  It’s a reasonable question but I’ll be damned if I know the answer.

“Maybe to them everything really is okay,” I surmise through a cloud of sweet smoke.

Although it wasn’t meant as a joke, I finally got Flaco to chuckle.

Puff, puff pass.

Previously posted:

THE CORRUPTOR

10,000 BLUNTS AGO

SALUTE BY KHALID STRICKLAND a.k.a. BLACK PACINO

Today, on the 14th anniversary of his death, my wake & bake was dedicated to Biggie Smalls.  The White Haze conjured up memories of a hometown hero.

I grew up in the Fort Greene-Clinton Hill area of  BK; the same neighborhood where Christopher Wallace a.k.a. The Notorious B.I.G. is from (his block was near the borderline of Bed-Stuy).  He and I have many mutual friends.  In fact, Biggie gave an R.I.P. shout-out to my stepbrother Kymo in the Ready To Die liner notes.  My other brother Marlo and Lil Kim’s brother are best friends.  When Marlo came home from his bid, he reunited with Kim and went on tour with her.

Long before B.I.G. became a legend, I’d see him at the chicken shack on Fulton and greet him with a nod of respect.  We ain’t know each other but we recognized one another from the hood and it was all bueno.

My homegirl dream hampton, journalism O.G. and prestigious filmmaker, was a very close friend to Biggie.  Circa ’94, dream let me hear a rough, unmixed copy of Ready To Die given to her by the highly-skilled rapper himself.  She had it on cassette and it wouldn’t be released until months later.  After intently listening to every banger, including a few songs that never made the final cut, I emphatically stated:

“This is one of the best albums I’ve ever heard in my whole fuckin’ life.”

I knew that I had just witnessed something groundbreaking and special.

When Biggie was gunned down in 1997, it hit us particularly hard.  Me and my ex-girlfriend sat in Fort Greene Park all day after we got the news, holding back tears and burning countless L’s.  One of the saddest, yet most electrifying moments in Brooklyn’s history was when Biggie’s funeral procession rolled through the hood.

And now, before the clock strikes midnight, I’ma spark up some more bud for The Notorious One.  White Haze for Frank White.  Only the best for Brooklyn’s Finest.  Puff puff salute.