Gun trafficking from the U.S. to Mexican drug cartels

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/15/us/15guns.html?pagewanted=1

Over the past couple of years there has been major drug wars going on between cartels in most border towns and various places in mainland Mexico. The cartels are fighting over turf in border towns because of easy access to their biggest clients, the United States. There has been hundreds of shoots killing thousands of people, wither they got caught in crossfire or were targeted victems from rivaling cartels. The big question is where do these cartels get so many guns to supply to all of there members and to maintain power, the answer once again is the United States. In the U.S. the purchase of firearms is quite easy, as long as you have the cash and don't have a criminal record you can buy yourself a small pistol all the way to an AK-47 without even a blink of an eye. Cartels have set up gun smuggling groups mostly in Texas, Arizona and New Mexico who go into each of the thousands of gun stores and can purchase two or three firearms without it even being suspicious. I think it is so irresponsible of our government to allow for there to be non licensed sellers who can sell to anyone, and I think it's wrong that we even have such relaxed laws for the licensed sellers. These gun sells contributing to thousands of deaths in Mexico and its all because some Texans want the right to keep a rifle in their house just incase they need to kill someone. I think the United State's laws on gun enforcement need to become much stricter, by not allowing machine guns or powerful rifles to be sold, and designating only one or two gun sellers in a city or town. The government needs to be able to see if people are buying suspicious amounts or rifles, and check up on them, rather than having to rely on the salesman to inform the government of strange purchases. The United States needs to do this for Mexico's well being and it will hopefully reduce the number of guns owned and as a result, less shootings and deaths.

The Alabama Dream

Barder had spent many a nights dreaming of this day. The day that he could fly. The day he could leave this small south Alabama town forever. He spent most of his nights sleeping in the bayou, warding of mosquitos with his tail and keeping one eye open on the crocs. He would sit on the banks and watch the frogs leap into the sky, their webbed feet as parachutes. Barder was mesmerized by the frog's ability to effortlessly fly across the swamp, catching one fly after another. Now, about this time of year, the leaves start changing color and it just starts getting colder and colder. It was time for Barder to leave his bayou refuge, and move into the streets of town. There were hardly any dumpsters around town and so the competition for them was tough. Other feral dogs were much more aggressive than Barder was, so he hardly ever got a nice warm dumpster to sleep in. One night, just before the first snow, Barder decided that he needed a dumpster and was going to fight for it. A pack of dogs were lurking around, eyeing the potential beds and starting to growl at one another. Barder slowly approached, his neck low and a guttural growl came out, the pack immediately focused on him and started to encircle him. The fight for territory had begun and the animals were a cloud, biting and tearing each other. Barder got bit more than once and was bleeding all over, he noticed that his body felt strange and his mind was going places he couldn't stop it from going. His mouth started foaming uncontrollably, and he started barking crazily at the others. They sulked away and left the dumpster for Barder. 'Finally' thought Barder hazily, it was about time he got a bed. Stumbling around the ally he tried to jump in the dumpster but didn't have any strength to do it and at this point his mouth was a river of foam. Barder's vision started to tunnel and he passed out on the pavement.

The first snow had come. It gently laced everything with white dust, including Barder's unconscious body. Now, dogs were not the only homeless beings in this small town, there was some little children who wandered the streets day and night, looking for anything to help them out. There was one little boy who always had an orange scarf wrapped around him like a blanket, probably from his long dead mother. He was wondering the streets that morning of the first snow, relishing the beauty that surrounded him. The orange scarf had turned into a turban to keep his tiny head warm from the bitter cold. He came across Barder's blood-caked body, laying partially buried in the snow, and started to pet him. Barder awakened with a fright and bit the child's hand. The boy started weeping and slowly he started to foam. Barder lay back down, delirious and dying, only dreaming of those frogs way down in the bayou. The little boy sat down on Barder's back and then fell over into the snow, scarf still tightly wrapped around his head, uncontrollably foaming and convulsing. They both lie there dying, dreaming of flight, in the fresh white snow.

*Image taken from JanVonHolleben.com

Writing in Reverse- Vedo's Crossword

The following short story was written as a creative writing exercise. By observing photographs of people on the subway we were able to create stories surrounding their subway ride.

Vedo Giudice was a Jersey man, he lived across the Hudson with his wife and boys. Most of his extended family, consisting of brothers, brothers in law, first cousins, second cousins, cousins once or twice removed, all lived in the SoHo/Little Italy district of Manhattan. The family business was a decent restaurant called 'Giudice's Italian Cuisine' and this was where Don, the Boss, lived and ruled. He was a second cousin once removed of Vedo's and was the top dog around. The Giudice's had long been a mob family, spanning many generations, so basically everyone who was related belonged. Vedo wasn't the toughest guy there ever was, so he was never one to talk and sort out things, he just had to clean up.

Every morning Vedo had to cross on the Staten Island Ferry over too the Manhattan harbor and from there walk to the station that went strait to SoHo. It was his morning routine to do the New Jersey Chronicle's crossword puzzle to, you know, keep his mind nimble. On this particular April morning, Vedo was fading, he could hardly keep his eyes open, let alone do the crossword. The night before he had to work overtime because there were too many bodies for one person to get rid of, so Vedo had to come along and dispose of the bodies. The men that he had to saw up were some of the brothers of the rivaling Don and it was a messy death they met. So anyways, Vedo was tired and not looking forward to having to go to Giudice's. As he started walking down in to the harbor subway station he smelt a wave of fresh coffee floating below his nostrils. Now usually Vedo just ate at Giudice's but sometimes he would treat himself to some stand coffee and he felt that today was the day. The coffee immediately made him feel like himself again and so he started down into the station, caught the train heading south. He sat by the door rocking side to side with the movement of the train feeling rather depressed about his lot in life, disposing of bodies, when he had arrived at his station. He got back out into the crisp New York air and slowly started walking towards Little Italy, as he walked he heard a lot of shouting and scuffling, but that was the normal background noise in this part of town. As he approached Guidice's he noticed how everything was silent and it seemed as though no one was inside. He got closer and realized that there was blood splattered on the window. Vedo froze, this could only mean one thing: a shootout. He slowly opened the door and gazed at the massacre of his entire family. There were bullet holes in every part of their bodies and not a breath was issued. Everything started making sense to Vedo, he had a feeling that the rivaling Don was not going to take the previous night's excursions lightly and sure enough, he didn't. Slowly Vedo turned around, closed the door and started off back to the subway station headed towards the harbor.

*Image taken from BillSullivanWorks