Repulsive as we find the the gangland execution of seven guys who appear to have been windshield washers, we have to confess a grudging admiration of the craftsmanship on display this weekend in Uruapan.
In the middle of the night, someone brought these seven dudes to a traffic island, sat them in identical plastic chairs, shot them one at at time, and left a couple of handwritten messages affixed to the bodies with icepicks. This isn't murder, it's performance art. (Well, okay, it's murder, too.) Try to imagine how long all this would have taken. Even if it was just a few minutes, that's a really long time to be arranging people in to a creepy, anal-retentive tableau and murdering them on a fucking traffic island in the middle of a city. That's some ballsy display of self-confidence right there.
[Bonus product placement: The traffic island is across from a Pepsi bottling plant, and known around town as "la Glorieta de Pepsi." But there's no such thing as bad publicity, so it's cool.]
Uruapan has a history of bringing the crazy with style. Who can forget the night, back in the early days of the Drug War, when the Nueva Gente announced the arrival of their gang by sauntering into a Uruapan night club and emptying a bag of severed heads on the dance floor? Maybe this is sort of a bookend, and the war will be over soon.