Come to Mexico for the Beaches, Stay for the Roadblocks

Mexico: Sun, Sand, and Somebody Else’s War

Five Observations Before We Begin

• Cartels are the only organizations that offer performance bonuses for “most dramatic weekend.”
• Politicians declare war on cartels the way I declare war on my treadmill. We both lose interest by Tuesday.
• Every time a cartel boss falls, three assistants get promoted and immediately update their LinkedIn profiles.
• Calling a cartel “like ISIS” is Washington’s version of putting extra hot sauce on bland chicken.
• The war on drugs is the longest running sequel in American history, and nobody remembers how the first one ended.

Cartel Crisis, Congressional Courage, and the Eternal Umbrella in a Hurricane

WASHINGTON, D.C. — This week, a retired Navy SEAL strode into the national conversation and announced that a certain Mexican cartel was “more like ISIS,” which is political shorthand for “we are very serious right now.” The comparison landed the way most comparisons do in Washington: with a press conference, three cable news panels, and a graphic that looks like it was designed by someone who once saw a lightning bolt.

The former SEAL, squared jaw and steady gaze, essentially told the cartels they were on notice. On notice. That phrase alone deserves its own parade. Cartels have been on notice since about 1983. They have been on notice so long they probably frame the notices and hang them next to the office espresso machine. Right between the motivational poster that says “Hustle” and the photo of their last HR retreat in Cabo.

The idea is simple. Violence spikes. Leaders are killed. Officials say enough is enough. Rinse. Repeat. It is the governmental equivalent of yelling at a raccoon for eating your trash while continuing to leave the lid open.

The “More Like ISIS” Moment: When Rhetoric Meets Reality

In Washington, labeling something “like ISIS” is the rhetorical equivalent of turning the volume knob to eleven. It is not a policy. It is a vibe. It is what happens when you want the audience to gasp before you explain how you plan to fix potholes.

Cartels are indeed violent and ruthless. They traffic poison, terrorize communities, and leave behind chaos that is as heartbreaking as it is infuriating. The satire is not aimed at the suffering. It is aimed at the theatrical rhythm of how we talk about it.

Because once you compare anything to ISIS, you have officially entered the genre of Big Announcements. And Big Announcements are America’s favorite sport. Bigger than baseball. More theatrical than wrestling. And roughly as decisive as either.

The War on Drugs: Now With New Packaging and Same Great Failure

We have been fighting the war on drugs longer than some members of Congress have been alive. It has had more reboots than a superhero franchise. At this point, the war on drugs qualifies for a commemorative coin. Perhaps a gold one, minted ironically in a country that exports cocaine.

Each generation rediscovers it like a dusty treadmill in the basement. “This year,” they say, “we’re really going to use it.”

And yet, as every honest policy wonk will whisper over coffee, supply follows demand. If there were no buyers, there would be no sellers. But addressing demand requires uncomfortable conversations about addiction, healthcare, despair, and the parts of society that are easier to ignore than to fix.

So instead, we hold another press conference. The podium is very shiny. The flags are perfectly placed. Nothing changes, but everyone’s tie is straight.

Cartel Leadership Succession: Corporate Promotion at Gunpoint

Every time a cartel leader is eliminated, the headlines blaze: KINGPIN DOWN. It feels decisive. Clean. Like crossing a name off a chalkboard.

And then, almost immediately, the violence spikes as power vacuums fill rapidly.

Because power vacuums do not remain empty. They are filled. Usually by someone who wants to prove he is even tougher than the last guy. It is corporate succession planning with more AK-47s. The executive compensation package includes a burner phone and a very fast car.

Imagine if every time a CEO resigned, the executive team settled the matter by setting fire to the parking lot. That is essentially what happens when a cartel hierarchy fractures. Except the parking lot is a border town and the executive team has automatic weapons and a drone budget.

But the press release always sounds triumphant. “Major victory,” it declares. Which is true in one sense. It is just not the whole sense.

Military Solutions vs. Cartel Networks: Why Marching Bands Can’t Fix Traffic

Calls to deploy more force are as predictable as sunrise. Send in this unit. Designate that group. Escalate. De-escalate. Re-escalate. The U.S. has deployed Stryker brigades, Navy destroyers, and National Guard units to the southern border — impressive hardware for fighting what is essentially a multinational logistics company with very poor HR policies.

The trouble is that cartels are not conventional armies standing in neat rows. They are networks. Financial systems. Smuggling routes. Corrupt alliances. They are as much accountants and logistics managers as gunmen.

You can defeat an army on a battlefield. It is harder to defeat a spreadsheet.

Which is why the idea of simply unleashing overwhelming military power sometimes feels like hiring a marching band to solve a traffic jam. The drums are impressive. The horns are loud. The cars remain stuck.

The Politics of Outrage: Cable News, Fundraising Emails, and No Movement

Cable news thrives on urgency. A violent weekend becomes a chyron. The chyron becomes a panel discussion. The panel discussion becomes a fundraising email.

“America under siege,” the email says, preferably in bold.

Outrage is powerful. It motivates voters. It generates clicks. It feels good to be angry at something clearly evil.

But outrage without strategy is like revving an engine in neutral. A lot of noise. No movement. And eventually, the engine overheats and someone has to call a tow truck that also doubles as a press conference.

Tourist Zones, Roadblocks, and Brochures Written by Picasso

When violence erupts in tourist regions, the cognitive dissonance is jarring. One minute you are sipping a drink with an umbrella in it. The next minute there is a roadblock and smoke in the distance.

Visitors describe the scene as “surreal,” which is a polite way of saying, “This was not in the brochure.” The brochure had a pelican on it. And a very happy family playing volleyball. Neither the pelican nor the family mentioned the checkpoint.

It is a reminder that cartels are embedded in the legitimate Mexican economy — in tourism, real estate, avocados, and tortillas. They exist in real towns, real neighborhoods, where ordinary people just want to go to work, raise families, and not worry about whether the highway is open.

Satire must always tip its hat to that reality. The absurdity is in the policy theater, not in the pain.

On Notice Since Forever: A Brief History of Stern Language

The phrase “on notice” deserves its own museum wing. Cartels have been on notice. Gangs have been on notice. Terrorists have been on notice. Even inflation has been on notice. Inflation, to its credit, ignored the notice entirely and continued doing exactly what it wanted.

If being on notice actually stopped crime, America would be the safest country in the solar system.

But criminal enterprises respond to incentives, not notices. To profit margins. To risk versus reward.

Which is less cinematic than a fiery speech, but far more relevant.

The Root of the Weed: Demand, Corruption, and Soil That Never Dries

Cartels are weeds. Cut one down, another grows. Because the soil remains fertile. The soil is demand. Corruption. Poverty. Weak institutions. And yes, the American appetite for drugs that makes the entire enterprise profitable.

We prefer to focus on the weed. It is visible. It photographs well. You can hold it up at a press conference. The weed has excellent media presence. The weed would do very well on television.

The soil is harder. It requires structural reform that does not fit on a bumper sticker, cannot be photographed at a podium, and will not generate a single fundraising email.

So What Now? The Thousand Boring Solutions Nobody Wants to Fund

Perhaps the answer is not one grand declaration but a thousand boring, untelevised efforts. Financial tracking. Anti-corruption measures. Treatment programs. Cooperation across borders that is more than a handshake for the cameras.

None of that makes for a dramatic headline.

But maybe that is the point.

Because cartels do not fear metaphors. They fear losing money. They fear being unable to move product. They fear a market that shrinks.

Until that happens, they will continue to thrive in the gap between outrage and action.

And so, another violent weekend becomes another round of speeches. Another promise. Another vow. Another graphic designed by someone who has definitely seen a lightning bolt before.

Cartels remain, regrettably, very much in business.

And Congress remains, commendably, very much on notice.

Disclaimer: This satirical piece critiques political rhetoric and policy theatrics surrounding drug cartels. It does not minimize the very real suffering caused by cartel violence. This story is entirely a human collaboration between two sentient beings — the world’s oldest tenured professor and a philosophy major turned dairy farmer.

Auf Wiedersehen, amigo!

In early 2025, Rep. Dan Crenshaw — a former Navy SEAL and Texas Republican — made headlines by declaring that the Jalisco Nueva Generación Cartel (CJNG) was “more like ISIS than the mafia,” following the death of cartel leader “El Mencho” and a subsequent surge in cartel violence. The Trump administration had already designated six Mexican cartels as Foreign Terrorist Organizations in January 2025, placing them legally in the same category as Al-Qaeda. The designation opened new legal tools for prosecution but also sparked debate about whether military force, financial pressure, or demand-reduction strategies would actually reduce cartel power — a debate that Washington has been having, with great theatrical enthusiasm, since approximately 1983