Cattle Rustlers & Bootleggers

The thinness and blueness of the line between civilization and anarchy is, of course, metaphorical. The barrier is more like a variegated shopping mall. Sometimes, the shopkeepers get together and cooperate, and when they do, you can bet they give the project a name. In Alabama, this week saw the culmination of “Operation Giddy up and Go.” 15 counties in Alabama and one in Florida got together to recover stolen goods in a 6-month sting. They got “tractors, backhoes, all terrain vehicles, power tools, more than 80 head of cattle and 17 calves.” They also found some moonshine.

Alabama Commissioner of Agriculture and Industries Ron Sparks said, “the number of cattle and property thefts has gone up tremendously as unscrupulous people try to make a quick buck.”

Rivers of moonshine, blood in the streets: honey, grab your coat, we're going to Mexico

George Plimpton used to love to tell the story of how he asked the first son of the Aga Khan for money to finance the Paris Review as together they ran from the bulls in Pamplona: "Yes! Yes, I will!" (Read about it here, or here).

Whatever desire I harbored to run with those animals in Spain has been supplanted. I recently learned that the bulls run in Tlacotalpan every year. It's the best news to flip through my virtual transom in a long time.

But unlike Pamplona, where a pack of bulls chases people for a few
minutes down a carefully cordoned-off path, in Tlacotalpan the beasts
are let loose to rampage through the streets for hours as crowds taunt
them.

There's more here to pique my interest than simply a bunch of crazed bulls goring the townsfolk.

The dangers increase after hours of drinking sweet creamy cocktails
called "toritos" ("little bulls") made with local moonshine, sugar,
milk and fruit or peanut flavoring.

The wanton disregard for the safety of, well, everyone and everything is admirable.