Your fearless El Guapo was picked up outside an abandoned shack in the small border town of Villa Ahumanda, Mexico, an embattled war zone where drug cartels are making their presence known through much publicized shenanigans (by shenanigans we mean murdering and terrorizing competing cartels and innocents alike). With all this upheaval, El Guapo wore a nondescript poncho and his signature luchador mask (the one he dons when he wants to avoid the inevitable drooling crowd of women). He left his loyal lowrider Rosinante running and in the care of a young boy with a shoe shine box (but, ironically, no shoes of his own to speak of).
A fully loaded SUV that looked like it had just been driven off the lot approached from the horizon leaving clouds of dirt in its path, and out poured short men with gold medallions, silk shirts, and crisp white cowboy hats. While these men reminded El Guapo of the lollipop kids from the Wizard of Oz, they did not sing, smile, or seem intent on being in anyway hospitable. Their enormous silver belt buckles were emblazoned with the images of Santa Muerte and Malverde, the Narco’s patron saint. These men threw a bag over El Guapo’s head and proceeded to take the intrepid journalist on a silent, ominous drive to an undisclosed location.
El Guapo was duct taped to a cheap chair in a sun-drenched room and allowed a few moments with El Carinoso, a flourishing narcotraficante who requested a meeting with the legendary El Guapo to challenge the unfair image being perpetuated by the media on both sides of the border. This was, the narco communicated, the first stage in a complete public relations blitz campaign, complete with a mascot and plans for an amusement park for the kids to enjoy.
El Carinoso approached El Guapo and shook Guapo’s bound hands with his own extended, jewel-encrusted hand. El Carinoso smelled of lavender and wore a pair of alligator skin boots, Burmuda shorts, and a shirt that read “Franky Says Relax”.
“I do not enjoy death and suffering. I am no animal. You are here to see this, to hear with your two good ears what your whorish and unjust media fails to relate,” El Cariῇoso’s hands trembled with rage as he held his tropical drink. The little purple paper umbrella was knocked about the rim of the glass as he grew angrier and angrier. “They paint us as ruthless, as lacking a moral compass, as uneducated goons who slaughter on a whim. Military generals who kill and maim effectively and efficiently are honored in history books, are glorified by your media, and are passed on as benevolent warriors. Consider the hypocrisy. As we provide employment to thousands upon thousands and protect our interests, we are simply murderous bastards. This is rather convenient, no? Has every war been fought for a just cause? It depends who you ask, doesn't it?”
At this point our hero’s all-knowing eyes noticed that on his eyelids El Cariῇoso displayed a tattooed a heart and a smiley face on respective lids. So when he blinked quickly, you couldn't help but smile. “Your Presidents and politicians kill civilians in pursuit of economic aims, do they not? They lay on their disgust rather thick, but how different are we? To claim a moral high ground seems a bit of a stretch. Who draws these lines separating necessary violence from justified violence? Your culture, your media adores simplicity. For instance, I am not a fighter. I love. What am I but an entrepreneur? ‘Supply and demand’. ‘The market’. These are my gods, as they are yours. Your economy crumbles because your leaders are noble, your aims divine? These gods of ours have created poverty and death. We pray at the same altar. Do not think otherwise. ”
Somewhere during the rest of this self-rationalizing rant El Guapo became bored of the rhetoric. Eventually, El Guapo fell asleep peacefully, like some blissful, ruggedly handsome cherub. This infuriated El Cariῇoso, who then tried to unmask our hero. El Guapo’s eyes shot open, locked with the narco, and El Guapo was then respectfully, and immediately driven back to his Rosinante. Such is the power of El Guapo. He drove his steed into the sunset to seek his next adventure.