Resort sand theft. Now there’s a crime plot waiting for a taker. I thought about it some. This stealing sand is nothing new. Sand theft has plagued the Hurricane ravaged islands of the Caribbean for decades, resorts frantically jockeying for tourists Euros and dollars, trying to live up to a twisted fantasy of what island living is like. Talk about the absurdity of mankind. Then again, let’s talk about the absurdity of Cancún itself, a sterilized version of a country on lock down. Whoo-hoo, party at Señor Frogs--check out my sunburned, all-you-can-eat fiesta-dimmed brain. Oh, shut the hell up.Look. I can’t begrudge people their vacations. But they should grow some wind chimes below the belt and check out the real Mexico sometime. Here’s a hint. It’s not Cabo San Lucas. It’s not Acapulco. Or even Tijuana. It’s that horror and mire of top-down corruption that drives desperation. It’s the flat-eyed obliterated Indians of Chiapas being slaughtered for oil, facing the weapons we provided the Mexican government with sticks. It’s a teacher raped and shot in the head by government bankrolled vigilantes in Oaxaca for teaching indigenous language. It’s a boy of fifteen willing to risk the perils of an Arizona dessert only to be beaten to death by misguided thugs snapping the American flag like a wet towel in the locker room. Do I even have to talk about the drug cartels and the chronic bullshit of our failed drug war? What a world.