In any bad economy there are many contributing situations that occur, but it seems that the Mexican drug cartels have found an opening. The leaking and unstable economy in both America and Mexico has left a seeping gap for needed release. People are finding comfort in drug induced states to hide from the issues that surround them. The question that must be asked pertaining to the issue in Mexico is the stability of their leaders. In an article provided by theguardian titled” Mexican drug cartel massacres have method in their brutal madness “provided a horrific concept into the terror in Mexico. In the most recent issue forty nine were found dead, but the count that should be the most frightening for the Mexican citizen is 50,000 related deaths during President Felipe Calderén launch against the drug cartels. The people have valid reason to leave in a feeling of fear when people like Alejandro Hope a former government intelligent agency official states “I don't think they are irrational. They are psychopaths sure, but I believe there is method in this madness,” This concept delivers a speculation to the beliefs and concepts within the Mexican government. The terror of the Mexican people are linked to an ongoing concept that I feel Alberto Islas covered when stating, "If the government doesn't do anything, this will continue," Islas said. "Forty-nine people is a lot of people, but tomorrow Mexico will forget about them." Has the lack of compassion humanity in general allowed people to accept genocide as conformity? The citizen of Mexico are victim in there on way by viewing mass murders in their streets. There was a discussions of an upcoming elections, but has the current failures allowed Drug cartels complete power? Can the Mexican people have their minds set at ease? I feel that with the current conditions and state of things that it will get worse before better. No government or organization can allow inmates control the asylum, and then expect to relinquish these powers.
My favorite section was:” He dried him with the blanket, kneeling there in the glow off the light with the shadow of the bridge’s under structure broken across the palisade of tree trunks beyond the creek. This is my child, he said. I wash a dead man’s brains out of his hair. That is my job.” Not only does McCarthy once again set a detailed environment, but he also drives home the point of a fathers love for his son.
“The raw dead limbs of the rhododendron twisted and knotted and black”