“Land Back… and Also Jorge”: Native Tribes Agree to Rescue LA Gangs in Exchange for Stolen Land

In an alliance so baffling it could only be conceived during a peyote ceremony or a city council Zoom meeting, Native American tribes have reportedly struck a deal with Los Angeles street gangs promising the return of stolen ancestral lands—if the tribes agree to invade California and break gang leaders out of federal custody.

According to leaked group chats and at least one TikTok confession, leaders from MS-13 and Tren de Agua have offered sacred land “from the coast to wherever the strip malls stop” in exchange for full-scale tribal raids on ICE detention centers, county jails, and one Beverly Hills holding cell that doubles as a day spa.

The plan? A coordinated cavalry invasion featuring war ponies, smudge sticks, and a disturbing number of dirt bikes, aimed at turning Southern California into a spiritual battlefield and legal technicality.

Apache Helicopters Meet Actual Apaches: Treaty of East Compton Promises Land Return in Exchange for Drive-Bys

Comanche, Sioux, and Apache Tribes Form Historic Alliance with MS-13 and Tren de Agua—on Horseback

LOS ANGELES — In a groundbreaking moment for settler-colonial chaos and criminal ingenuity, several Native American nations have entered into what political analysts are calling “The Most Absurd Treaty Since the Olive Garden Unlimited Pasta Deal.” Representatives from the Apache, Comanche, and Sioux tribes have joined forces with Los Angeles’s most notorious gangs—MS-13 and Tren de Agua—to launch a full-scale horseback liberation campaign across Southern California.

The cause? Land repatriation, street justice, and free tacos. Mostly free tacos.

“No One is Illegal on Stolen Land… Except the Meter Maid”

The alliance was officially sealed in the back parking lot of a vape shop in East Compton. A press conference was held entirely in smoke signals and Spanish slang, with simultaneous translation provided by a retired Burning Man DJ and a guy named Lenny “The Whisper” Rodriguez who once claimed he could trace his ancestry back to Sitting Bull and Pitbull.

A joint statement from the tribal coalition declared:

“We ride for sovereignty, spirit, and stimulus checks. Also, because the LA Metro sucks.”

Gangs, in turn, promised to return ancestral land —specifically, “whatever’s west of the 110 that don’t got Starbucks yet”—and granted the tribes full access to neighborhood block parties, narco tunnels, and unofficial Dodgers gear.

In exchange, tribal warriors agreed to bless the gangs with traditional war paint, spiritual protection, and social media clout.

The New Code of Honor: Reggaetón and War Chants

The combined raiding parties are now known as “The Red Cloud Cartel”, and their motto is painted across the walls of Highland Park:
“Land Back, or Your Prius Gets It.”

Each member rides into action on horseback outfitted with AirPods, Bluetooth arrows, and saddlebags full of vape cartridges and ancient prophecies. “We don’t ride just for justice,” said Lakota warrior Two-Screens Running, “we ride for likes.”

Comanche warriors are now using Waze to map traditional raiding routes, though many complain that the app keeps rerouting them through Skid Row “due to ongoing sacrificial rituals.” One elder reported being stuck behind a ritual drum circle for four hours and missing a scheduled drive-by blessing.

Fake Historical Evidence? We Have That.

Historians at the University of Phoenix Indigenous Warfare Institute (Online Campus) have confirmed the treaty’s “deep spiritual resonance,” citing:

• A forgotten cave drawing depicting a Comanche brave giving a thumbs-up to a gangbanger.

• A 1987 Burger King kids’ meal toy that oddly resembles Geronimo riding a lowrider.

• The discovery of an ancient beaded vest that reads “MS-13 4EVA” in Lakota syllabary.

Further proof was provided by a TikTok posted by a Navajo influencer, showing a ceremonial smoke dance beside a graffiti mural of Tupac riding a buffalo.

Bohiney Insight into the LA Tribal Invasion

• When MS-13 promised to return ancestral land, the tribes didn’t expect it to come with a free tattoo and a Glock.

• Apache scouts now use Waze, but complain it keeps rerouting them through Skid Row “due to ritual violence.”

• The Treaty of East Compton was signed using a vape pen, a blunt, and someone’s ankle monitor.

• Comanche warriors reportedly laughed for hours when told the gangs would “honor sacred land boundaries.”

• Sioux chiefs insisted on including peyote ceremonies—MS-13 countered with a J Balvin playlist and Monster Energy drinks.

• Horseback raids in Beverly Hills have been paused due to confusion over “permit parking only.”

• One raider’s tomahawk was confiscated for violating California’s blade length ordinance.

• Gangs offered “ancestral lands” in Watts, which elders politely declined with a single tear and a double-barrel shotgun.

• A joint pow-wow and drive-by was accidentally scheduled on the same day. Casualties included three Teslas and a Whole Foods delivery drone.

• Comanche spiritual leaders mistook rapper tattoos for ancient clan markings, now one shaman follows Cardi B on TikTok.

• The combined war cry is now a remix of “war chants” and reggaetón beats—available on SoundCloud.

• Every tribal meeting begins with a land acknowledgment… followed by a turf war.

• Elders brought peace pipes; MS-13 brought “other pipes.”

• A planned raid on the LA City Council was canceled after realizing it’s already mostly ceremonial.

• The Lakota attempted to declare sovereignty over Santa Monica Pier but were distracted by $19 funnel cakes.

Real Reactions from Totally Made-Up Experts

Dr. Harlan Fistbump, Professor of Cultural Misunderstandings at the University of Glendale, offered this take:

“It’s an anthropological collision of ceremonial horse raids and Postmates-fueled gang capitalism. Frankly, it’s beautiful.”

Father Miguel Angel Firestick, a Jesuit priest turned meth deprogrammer, commented:

“I baptized three Apache gangbangers this morning. One requested holy water, the other requested Mountain Dew Baja Blast.”

Etsy entrepreneur and amateur elder “Glowing WiFi Hawk”, who sells ceremonial fidget spinners, stated:

“We knew this day would come. That’s why I stocked up on beaded bulletproof vests.”

What the Funny People Are Saying

“Only in LA do you get scalped and carjacked in the same moment.” — Bill Burr
“It’s a beautiful collaboration: one side brings spirituality, the other brings ankle monitors and parking tickets.” — Sarah Silverman
“When I heard Native tribes were forming an alliance with MS-13, I thought: Great, now even my ancestors are in a gang.” — Ron White
“Treaty of 2025? Please. It was notarized by a guy named ‘Stabby Jorge’ behind a 7-Eleven.” — Chris Rock
“Nothing says land restoration like a Comanche warrior wearing Yeezys and aiming a bazooka from horseback.” — Dave Chappelle
“These gangs promised to return stolen land… they just forgot to mention it’s in Bakersfield.” — Trevor Noah
“It’s nice to see multicultural coalitions working together—especially when armed.” — Tig Notaro
“I asked an Apache raider what he wanted. He said, ‘My land back… and maybe a PS5.’” — Jerry Seinfeld
“Turns out ‘blood in, blood out’ applies to both tribal initiation and street gang membership.” — Kevin Hart
“At this point, LA is just Westworld written by Quentin Tarantino and produced by Kendrick Lamar.” — Amy Schumer
“Comanche chief on a stallion yelling ‘Land Back!’ while an MS-13 guy throws Molotovs from a Bird scooter—that’s my America.” — Larry David
“This isn’t cultural appropriation—it’s cultural escalation.” — Ricky Gervais

Tribal Logistics: How It’s Working

• Horses are stabled at abandoned Amazon warehouses.

• Raiding schedules are managed via a shared Google Calendar called “Manifest Destiny 2.0.”

• The Comanche TikTok account now has more followers than Gavin Newsom’s gubernatorial campaign.

• A new language is emerging—a hybrid of Lakota, Spanish, and AutoTune.

Homeland Security’s Response: “We’re Confused and Frankly a Little Impressed”

Federal agents expressed concern over what one analyst called “a culturally complex insurgency with ceremonial drums and assault rifles.”

Attempts to intervene have been delayed due to:

• Border Patrol agents getting caught in dreamcatchers.

• Horses being declared “non-emission compliant.”

• The FBI’s only Lakota translator joining the rebellion and releasing a mixtape.

Helpful Content for the Casual Reader: What You Can Do

• If you see a man on horseback aiming a rocket launcher at your Tesla, offer land acknowledgment and maybe a Slim Jim.

• Donate to causes like “Reclaim the Taco Truck” and “Horses Not Drones.”

• Avoid Highland Park unless you’re ready to join the revolution or buy handmade war moccasins.

Final Word

As of press time, the coalition was reportedly preparing to raid a Starbucks Reserve Roastery in Downtown LA, demanding the return of “ancestral matcha.” Negotiations are ongoing. The land is sacred. The beans are fair trade.

And in this new chapter of LA’s absurd history, one thing is clear:

“No One Is Illegal on Stolen Land… but You Might Get Robbed if You Don’t Respect the Horse.”

Auf Wiedersehen

1. “Smoke Signals and Signal Jammers: How a Sioux Raid Freed MS-13 from ICE in Return for Santa Fe”

In an operation now dubbed “Feathers of Fury,” Sioux warriors launched a coordinated assault on an ICE detention facility in Calexico using war ponies, hacked security gates, and an old casino tour bus. Their goal? Free 37 high-ranking MS-13 members in exchange for full title deeds to Santa Fe, New Mexico—a city tribes had originally lost due to broken treaties and a 1993 Starbucks expansion.

Federal agents were baffled when the attack began with a formation of horses circling the perimeter while clouds of ceremonial sage caused total sensory confusion. At the same time, Sioux codebreakers—working out of a Spirit Halloween WiFi booth—jammed ICE radios with looping tracks of Cherokee flute remixes and fake Amber Alerts about a missing bald eagle named “Geraldo.”

One ICE officer, who asked not to be named, said, “I looked up and saw a dude in face paint on a horse jump the fence like it was Coachella. I just dropped my taser and called my mom.”

MS-13 escapees were driven out in a school bus converted into a mobile sweat lodge and taco stand. The gangs, in turn, handed over a printed Google Map of Santa Fe with “Yours Now” scribbled in Sharpie across the historic plaza.

Tribal leaders remain skeptical but optimistic. “It’s stolen land either way,” said Chief No-Filters, “but now it smells like hope and carne asada.”

2. “Treaty of Taco Bell: Gangs Promise Tribal Land Return If Apaches Can Bust Jorge Out of Lockup by Tuesday”

In a hastily convened midnight summit behind an abandoned Taco Bell near Barstow, Apache leaders met with MS-13 emissaries to finalize the terms of a revolutionary treaty: freedom for gang leader Jorge “El Flaco” Menendez in exchange for full ancestral rights to the Four Corners region, plus 15% of all gang-operated taco trucks.

Jorge, being held at a high-security ICE facility disguised as a Marriott Suites, was due to be transferred by Tuesday. The Apaches had a three-day window to act, which tribal elders described as “just enough time for a prayer ceremony and a low-speed chase.”

The Apache escape team included spiritual advisors, former rodeo clowns, and a TikTok influencer named Dances With Algorithms. They used decoys—three flaming horses and a fake census bureau van—to draw away guards while the real team tunneled in using a sacred jackhammer blessed with mountain sage and diesel fumes.

After retrieving Jorge, the group fled across the desert under cover of a monsoon and a spirit drone disguised as a Red Bull promotional blimp. A ceremonial hoop dancer distracted Border Patrol long enough for the convoy to vanish into the night.

True to their word, MS-13 mailed the Apaches a copy of a land deed printed on tortilla paper, notarized by a man named “Chucho” wearing Air Jordans and a feather headdress.

“We got Jorge. They got Utah,” said one Apache raider. “Seems fair.”

3. “Return the Land, Keep the Guns: How Comanche Horsemen Swapped Jailbreaks for Beverly Hills Deeds”

The Comanche Nation, weary of centuries of broken promises and real estate agents who called ancestral burial grounds “fixer-uppers,” finally decided to negotiate with a different group: criminal syndicates. MS-13, seeking an escape plan for incarcerated kingpin “Lil Molotov”, offered the Comanche full ceremonial control over Beverly Hills—except Rodeo Drive, which was allegedly “already promised to a cartel in Milan.”

The jailbreak unfolded at a federal facility camouflaged as a vegan kombucha warehouse in Pomona. At dawn, 30 Comanche warriors rode in on app-connected horses, each wearing bulletproof war paint and sponsored regalia from the new fashion line “LandBack x Supreme.”

The getaway was seamless. Comanche scouts disabled the motion sensors by performing interpretive dance rituals, confusing guards and disrupting facial recognition software, which kept mistaking everyone for Johnny Depp.

“Lil Molotov” was smuggled out in a spirit canoe loaded onto a Lyft XL, while drones overhead blasted an EDM remix of “Custer’s Last Stand.”

As promised, gang officials delivered Beverly Hills property deeds, written in cursive on the back of divorce settlements and Gucci receipts.

The Comanche Nation has since erected a temporary tribal casino next to the Beverly Hilton and installed a spiritual war drum circle in front of Lisa Vanderpump’s restaurant. “We’re reclaiming the land, one overpriced sushi joint at a time,” said War Chief Big Streaming Cloud.

4. “Operation Featherstorm: When Gangs Outsourced Their Escape Plans to a Tribe with a 600-Year Grudge”

The plan was absurd. Even more absurd than a coyote driving an Uber for cartel fugitives. But in the wake of aggressive ICE crackdowns, LA gang leaders turned to the only group with a longer history of federal evasion than themselves: the Native American nations. Thus was born Operation Featherstorm, a secret rescue op conducted by a coalition of tribal commandos with ancient skills and modern GPS.

MS-13’s leadership had been detained in an underground holding facility beneath LAX disguised as a Southwest baggage claim. It was there that three Apache pathfinders entered the building disguised as TSA agents, claiming they were there to conduct “a ritual luggage blessing.”

Outside, a coordinated distraction unfolded. A Comanche war chant flash mob erupted in Terminal 5, luring away airport security, while an unauthorized teepee popped up in the cell phone lot blaring Indigenous techno. One tribal hacker known only as “Buffalo Rootkit” disabled ICE surveillance by replacing all camera feeds with episodes of Walker, Texas Ranger.

In exchange for this miracle of freedom, the gangs pledged full deed transfer of “land located between La Cienega and Robertson,” although it was later discovered this only included a parking lot and a failed vegan food truck incubator.

“Still,” said the Apache commander, “it’s better than the last treaty. That one came with smallpox and a Starbucks.”

5. “Peyote and Parole: Gangs Offer Sacred Land for Sacred Getaway”

On the night of the full moon, somewhere between a peyote ceremony and a parole violation, leaders of several Southwest tribes convened with gang representatives in a spiritual tent made of hemp, hubcaps, and reclaimed Coachella banners. The deal was divine and criminal in equal measure: if tribal warriors could bust MS-13 consigliere “Lil Santo” from federal custody, they’d receive sacred land in downtown Santa Monica—plus naming rights to four juice bars and a SoulCycle.

The raid itself was a metaphysical masterpiece. Elders conducted a smoke ritual that clouded the entire holding facility in what ICE officials described as “spiritual fog and mild hallucination.” One agent reportedly tried to arrest his own reflection.

Meanwhile, a team of tribal raiders disguised as Uber Eats drivers entered the facility with bags labeled “sacred vegan offerings,” which in fact contained bolt cutters, sage bundles, and an emotional support iguana.

Lil Santo was extracted through a hidden maintenance tunnel beneath the yoga studio, emerging hours later in a canyon where a sweat lodge and mariachi band awaited his rebirth.

The promised land deed was delivered in a hemp envelope along with four vouchers for ayahuasca therapy and a handwritten note:
“The land is yours. Just avoid Thursdays—there’s a farmers market.”

The tribe accepted. “It’s sacred land,” said Grandmother Streaming Cactus. “And it finally has parking.”