Mexico bound to collapse by 2012? - PeachParts Mercedes-Benz Forum

JordaanDMC-12 · #1 02-06-2009, 07:41 PM

http://www.elpasotimes.com/newupdated/ci_11444354

I was hearing about this from my friends but didn't really believe it. Looked it up and found this. I'm not sure if I still believe it 100%. I mean the world is supposed to end in 2012

. And coincidently this is in 2012. What do you all think?

450slcguy · #2 02-06-2009, 08:13 PM

To hell with Mexico, I'm more worried about the USA collapsing. Sooner than later, the Chinese are gonna stop buying US debt. When that happens, our economy today is gonna be considered the good ole day's by comparison.

Nate · #3 02-07-2009, 09:21 AM

The "JOE" report... Yep, sounds just as reliable as PNN (Privates News Network)

~Nate

jt20 · #4 02-07-2009, 11:10 AM

I didnt check the link, but i'll assume its about the Mayan calendar. I definitely credit their ageless wisdom and I believe they understood things we may never dream of. There are currently no expected cosmological events that will destroy the Earth (by 2012)- of course, anything can happen.

But I recently saw a show about this and there is an upcoming sun-flare cycle that could potentially devastate Earth's electromagnetic characteristics and wipe out electrical grids in the northern hemisphere. This correlates to the Mayan calendar.

Jim B. · #5 02-07-2009, 01:46 PM

But legalizing drugs in the USA is not the answer. It denies personal responsibility.

280EZRider · #6 02-07-2009, 10:50 PM

I don't believe the world is going to collapse anytime soon, but Mexico's collapse is truly a reality thanks to the USA's consumption of drugs and the crime & major curruption in Mexico. It's very sad because most of the people of Mexico are decent, honest, family oriented folks. Unfortunately, the criminals - in the minority - are overwhelming the population. The following is a true story of my own kidnapping ordeal:

Mexico City by Night

We all know that kidnappings take place on a daily and nightly basis in Mexico City – those of us who live or used to live there. We go through our usual daily and nightly activities such as only carrying credit and bank cards when we intend to use them during a specific outing. When in our own cars, we try to stop at stoplights in the center lane of our three to avoid being approached by street-criminals from either the side of the street or the median strip. At night, forget it; we don’t put our lives in jeopardy by waiting for some silly red traffic light to change to green. While walking, we change sides of the street often enough to avoid being accosted by a mugger. And when we leave home, we never carry a huge wad of money; but we must carry enough to satisfy a criminal’s time spent on robbing us – just enough to keep him from blowing us away in a fit of anger from failing to bring home the bacon. (500 pesos should keep most thugs happy when coming across a victim of no substance). Kidnappings are so pervasive that they have become a part of the culture of the Chilangos (residents of Mexico City). We even make jokes and watch comedy films about them. We know this crime of epidemic proportion so well that we don’t expect it to happen to us individually, even though we have an expression, “if you haven’t been kidnapped, it’s just a matter of time.”

Thus, it was a complete shock when my girlfriend, Graciela, and I were approached by four thugs one night while I was dropping her off at her apartment building in one of the better districts of the city, Polanco. It was about 11pm when we pulled up to her all-glass lobby and I walked her inside while leaving my car parked across the sidewalk, directly in front with the engine running. Just as the glass door was closing, these young guys approached, running into the lobby. The next thing I knew is that there was suddenly a lot of pushing and shoving going on, but I didn’t understand what was happening, so I naturally resisted. Then I felt a crash on my head. I don’t remember any pain, but just seeing a kid of about 14 years old with a big gun, which turned out to be a 45-automatic pistol. Then one of them shouted, “esto es un asalto!” Strangely enough, this phrase helped me to calm down and understand that, “this is an assault!”

As I looked toward the street, I could see two of these hoods forcing Graciela into a car. I now went willingly to the car with the other two as Graciela’s life had suddenly become my main concern. They had seated her in the middle of the back seat next to the big, ugly, quiet goon on the right side. I took the remaining space on the left as directed, next to Graciela, and put my arm around her, holding her as close to me as possible. As the other three got into the front seat, I happened to mention that my car was still running, thinking this might cause a diversion, but no such luck. One of the goons in the front simply got out and went over to my car and turned off the engine, while leaving the keys in the car. I now knew that my car would be stolen by the time we returned – if we returned. I mentally wrote it off and returned to dealing with our life-or-death situation.

As we began our “tour of the city” our wallets, watches, and other jewelry were confiscated. At different times we were asked if we were going to cooperate, and naturally we both responded, “yes.” The idea was, and still is; to withdraw the maximum amount allowable from a bank account before 12 midnight, and then a few minutes later, draw out another maximum allowable amount as now it is a new day. Gaciela and I both had used our ATM cards that day, so our hoods were in luck. It seemed like we had driven around forever before stopping at the first bank.

Since Graciela and I had different banks, we would stop at four different banks and each far from the previous one. At our first stop, the 14-year-old, in the middle of the front seat, handed the 45-automatic to the hood to his right. He was obviously in training since he was given my ATM card and sent to collect the funds from my account after they had solicited my PIN number.

As we waited for the young student of street crime, the hood behind the steering wheel started rummaging through the glove box. This was my first clear indication that these guys had just stolen the car they were using. I’ll never forget this car and will forever have a bad memory of it – a red two-door Chevy Cavalier. After a few minutes, the kid returned and told his buddies that my card wouldn’t work. Naturally, they all thought I was trying to screw them out of “their” money, so they threaten to kill us right there. I assured them that I had given them the correct PIN number and then I noticed that the 14-year-old imbecile had bent my ATM card. I wanted to say, “este pendejo acaba de doblar la tarjeta; por eso no funcióna!” (“This stupid **** has just bent the card; this is why it doesn’t work”). But my fear of reprisal kept me from doing so, and I simply told them that the kid had bent the card and to try it again. He did and we continued on – and still alive.

As we headed for the second stop, the driver started asking Graciela and me a lot of questions about where we worked, how much we made, and so on. Since we didn’t want to give them the impression that we might have even more for them to rip off, we each made up stories giving us less importance to them. Graciela is a corporate lawyer, but told them that she had just a menial job as a law clerk with low pay. I told them that I taught English, which I did, but very part-time; hence, I made little money. They then asked us about the apartment building where they had accosted us. We didn’t want them to know that Graciela lived there with her family, so she told them we had gone to visit friends there and that she lived in another part of town not far away, but in a run-down area.

After the second bank, we started toward the outskirts of the city. My biggest fear was that they may try to rape Graciela, which would most likely be followed by them killing both of us. So by now, I had formulated in my mind that, in this event, I would throw myself on top of Graciela. They would have to kill me first to get to her and probably pass on the idea of raping her, although they would probably kill her too. But there was also the possibility of their running off after killing me.

As we continued on, the guy driving, who appeared to be the hood in charge, reached back with one of his hands to adjust his headrest and accidentally hit me in the face, as I was directly behind him. To my great surprise, he said, “perdon” (“pardon me”). Nothing more was said.

We now had one stop left as we started speeding beyond the airport. Seeing the airport go by and our surroundings becoming less illuminated gave me the feeling that we were getting dangerously close to death. It was at this moment that I truly understood what fear is – complete absence of control over your own life. By now my fear was so strong that the final bank stop was like being in a fog. It apparently satisfied our hostile hosts, so we continued driving on what was now a divided 4-lane highway. These are the types of roads that take you out of the city. I remember thinking, “I don’t want to die in or next to this dark, dirty city.”

While still on the highway, we suddenly pulled to the edge of the road and stopped. For a couple of seconds, two of the hoods in front joked about taking the leather coat I was wearing, but didn’t. The driver then told us to get out and go over to the small restaurant there next to the road – it was still open – and call a cab to return home. He said we needed to be careful because in that part of town, it was very dangerous. Imagine that! As Graciela and I exited the car, one of the thugs handed me a 100-peso note and said, “Esto es para el taxi, para que vean que no somos malos” (“This is for the taxi, so you see that we aren’t bad”). As we walked toward the restaurant, the four hoods sped off in their stolen red Chevy Cavalier.

One hundred pesos out the more than ten thousand pesos stolen from us – and we were still alive! It could have been much worse. After hearing what had just happened, the restaurant proprietor allowed us to use her phone and offered anything we might need while waiting for a cab.

When we arrived back at Graciela’s apartment building at approximately 1am, I encountered another – unexplainable – minor stroke of luck. During the preceding two hours, no one had stolen my car. There it sat in this city of 20 million, across the sidewalk, undisturbed, and with the keys in the ignition.

This event took place back in the year 2000, around the time Vicente Fox was elected president of Mexico.

RichC · #7 02-08-2009, 09:26 AM

I am actually suprized that Mexico has held together as long as it has.

lowriderdog37 · #8 02-08-2009, 12:25 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Jim B.

But legalizing drugs in the USA is not the answer. It denies personal responsibility.

I am going to have to disagree. It raises personal responsibility on a more basic level. If drugs were legalized, you have to decide between living your life or flushing it, not if you should play with a substance you are told is bad by somebody else.

When you outlaw something, only outlaws use it. Legalization would save billions on policing, and it would free up the money for education. Trade would be legalized and gang violence based on drugs would be unnecessary.

People on an individual level would have to make a decision on what to do with their life. See it as Darwinism at it's greatest.

RichC · #9 02-08-2009, 12:42 PM

The drug trade is alive and well.

And the drug dealers wear suits and send out salesmen / pushers....

They are making billions.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_pharmaceutical_companies

1Johnson and Johnson U.S. 53,324,000,000.00
2 Pfizer 48,371,000,000.00
3 Bayer Germany 44,200,000,000.00
4 GlaxoSmithKline 42,813,000,000.00

And they are not going to let anyone into their territory !!!!!!!!!!

Pooka · #10 02-08-2009, 04:14 PM

Our friends to the south have had their economy cave in several times in the past. You can really make out on this if you are in the right place at the right time.

Try holding a contract to buy 5,000,000 bbls of oil at $16.50 when the contract was made and then paying $2.80 bbl upon delivery after the peso was re-valued. Sweeeeeet.....

This was some years ago, but the concept is the same.

As far she Mayan calender 'ending' in 2012 (or whenever)... It does not end on this date, it just starts over. That was their way of counting years.

Botnst · #11 02-08-2009, 05:43 PM

When the moon is in the seventh house
And Jupiter aligns with Mars

Hatterasguy · #12 02-08-2009, 06:21 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by 280EZRider

I don't believe the world is going to collapse anytime soon, but Mexico's collapse is truly a reality thanks to the USA's consumption of drugs and the crime & major curruption in Mexico. It's very sad because most of the people of Mexico are decent, honest, family oriented folks. Unfortunately, the criminals - in the minority - are overwhelming the population. The following is a true story of my own kidnapping ordeal:

Mexico City by Night

We all know that kidnappings take place on a daily and nightly basis in Mexico City – those of us who live or used to live there. We go through our usual daily and nightly activities such as only carrying credit and bank cards when we intend to use them during a specific outing. When in our own cars, we try to stop at stoplights in the center lane of our three to avoid being approached by street-criminals from either the side of the street or the median strip. At night, forget it; we don’t put our lives in jeopardy by waiting for some silly red traffic light to change to green. While walking, we change sides of the street often enough to avoid being accosted by a mugger. And when we leave home, we never carry a huge wad of money; but we must carry enough to satisfy a criminal’s time spent on robbing us – just enough to keep him from blowing us away in a fit of anger from failing to bring home the bacon. (500 pesos should keep most thugs happy when coming across a victim of no substance). Kidnappings are so pervasive that they have become a part of the culture of the Chilangos (residents of Mexico City). We even make jokes and watch comedy films about them. We know this crime of epidemic proportion so well that we don’t expect it to happen to us individually, even though we have an expression, “if you haven’t been kidnapped, it’s just a matter of time.”

Thus, it was a complete shock when my girlfriend, Graciela, and I were approached by four thugs one night while I was dropping her off at her apartment building in one of the better districts of the city, Polanco. It was about 11pm when we pulled up to her all-glass lobby and I walked her inside while leaving my car parked across the sidewalk, directly in front with the engine running. Just as the glass door was closing, these young guys approached, running into the lobby. The next thing I knew is that there was suddenly a lot of pushing and shoving going on, but I didn’t understand what was happening, so I naturally resisted. Then I felt a crash on my head. I don’t remember any pain, but just seeing a kid of about 14 years old with a big gun, which turned out to be a 45-automatic pistol. Then one of them shouted, “esto es un asalto!” Strangely enough, this phrase helped me to calm down and understand that, “this is an assault!”

As I looked toward the street, I could see two of these hoods forcing Graciela into a car. I now went willingly to the car with the other two as Graciela’s life had suddenly become my main concern. They had seated her in the middle of the back seat next to the big, ugly, quiet goon on the right side. I took the remaining space on the left as directed, next to Graciela, and put my arm around her, holding her as close to me as possible. As the other three got into the front seat, I happened to mention that my car was still running, thinking this might cause a diversion, but no such luck. One of the goons in the front simply got out and went over to my car and turned off the engine, while leaving the keys in the car. I now knew that my car would be stolen by the time we returned – if we returned. I mentally wrote it off and returned to dealing with our life-or-death situation.

As we began our “tour of the city” our wallets, watches, and other jewelry were confiscated. At different times we were asked if we were going to cooperate, and naturally we both responded, “yes.” The idea was, and still is; to withdraw the maximum amount allowable from a bank account before 12 midnight, and then a few minutes later, draw out another maximum allowable amount as now it is a new day. Gaciela and I both had used our ATM cards that day, so our hoods were in luck. It seemed like we had driven around forever before stopping at the first bank.

Since Graciela and I had different banks, we would stop at four different banks and each far from the previous one. At our first stop, the 14-year-old, in the middle of the front seat, handed the 45-automatic to the hood to his right. He was obviously in training since he was given my ATM card and sent to collect the funds from my account after they had solicited my PIN number.

As we waited for the young student of street crime, the hood behind the steering wheel started rummaging through the glove box. This was my first clear indication that these guys had just stolen the car they were using. I’ll never forget this car and will forever have a bad memory of it – a red two-door Chevy Cavalier. After a few minutes, the kid returned and told his buddies that my card wouldn’t work. Naturally, they all thought I was trying to screw them out of “their” money, so they threaten to kill us right there. I assured them that I had given them the correct PIN number and then I noticed that the 14-year-old imbecile had bent my ATM card. I wanted to say, “este pendejo acaba de doblar la tarjeta; por eso no funcióna!” (“This stupid **** has just bent the card; this is why it doesn’t work”). But my fear of reprisal kept me from doing so, and I simply told them that the kid had bent the card and to try it again. He did and we continued on – and still alive.

As we headed for the second stop, the driver started asking Graciela and me a lot of questions about where we worked, how much we made, and so on. Since we didn’t want to give them the impression that we might have even more for them to rip off, we each made up stories giving us less importance to them. Graciela is a corporate lawyer, but told them that she had just a menial job as a law clerk with low pay. I told them that I taught English, which I did, but very part-time; hence, I made little money. They then asked us about the apartment building where they had accosted us. We didn’t want them to know that Graciela lived there with her family, so she told them we had gone to visit friends there and that she lived in another part of town not far away, but in a run-down area.

After the second bank, we started toward the outskirts of the city. My biggest fear was that they may try to rape Graciela, which would most likely be followed by them killing both of us. So by now, I had formulated in my mind that, in this event, I would throw myself on top of Graciela. They would have to kill me first to get to her and probably pass on the idea of raping her, although they would probably kill her too. But there was also the possibility of their running off after killing me.

As we continued on, the guy driving, who appeared to be the hood in charge, reached back with one of his hands to adjust his headrest and accidentally hit me in the face, as I was directly behind him. To my great surprise, he said, “perdon” (“pardon me”). Nothing more was said.

We now had one stop left as we started speeding beyond the airport. Seeing the airport go by and our surroundings becoming less illuminated gave me the feeling that we were getting dangerously close to death. It was at this moment that I truly understood what fear is – complete absence of control over your own life. By now my fear was so strong that the final bank stop was like being in a fog. It apparently satisfied our hostile hosts, so we continued driving on what was now a divided 4-lane highway. These are the types of roads that take you out of the city. I remember thinking, “I don’t want to die in or next to this dark, dirty city.”

While still on the highway, we suddenly pulled to the edge of the road and stopped. For a couple of seconds, two of the hoods in front joked about taking the leather coat I was wearing, but didn’t. The driver then told us to get out and go over to the small restaurant there next to the road – it was still open – and call a cab to return home. He said we needed to be careful because in that part of town, it was very dangerous. Imagine that! As Graciela and I exited the car, one of the thugs handed me a 100-peso note and said, “Esto es para el taxi, para que vean que no somos malos” (“This is for the taxi, so you see that we aren’t bad”). As we walked toward the restaurant, the four hoods sped off in their stolen red Chevy Cavalier.

One hundred pesos out the more than ten thousand pesos stolen from us – and we were still alive! It could have been much worse. After hearing what had just happened, the restaurant proprietor allowed us to use her phone and offered anything we might need while waiting for a cab.

When we arrived back at Graciela’s apartment building at approximately 1am, I encountered another – unexplainable – minor stroke of luck. During the preceding two hours, no one had stolen my car. There it sat in this city of 20 million, across the sidewalk, undisturbed, and with the keys in the ignition.

This event took place back in the year 2000, around the time Vicente Fox was elected president of Mexico.

Wow thats crazy! Glad you made it out! If someone did that to me I'd want to hunt all those POS down and kill them.