Surf, Turf, and Fentanyl: The Ultimate Caribbean BBQ

So first, we’ve got the political philosophers scratching their heads like: “Gee, why would cartels push drugs that wipe out customers faster than Raid wipes out a roach colony?” Yeah, it’s called repeat business through funerals—ask the undertakers, they’re the real beneficiaries of fentanyl.

And then, flip the channel: America throws a barbecue at sea. Not ribs, not burgers—just 11 cartel guys turned into extra crispy by a missile strike in the Caribbean. President Trump calls it a “successful operation,” while Marco Rubio proudly narrates like he’s hosting a Travel Channel special: “Tonight, we’re featuring the southern Caribbean, fine waters, and a freshly sunk Venezuelan drug boat.”

But seriously—how many overdoses, bodies, and broken families does it take before the U.S. stops pretending this is a polite chess match? These aren’t your grandparents’ joints and party pills. This is poison dressed as product—designed to gut a whole generation while politicians argue about whose turn it is to wear the tough-guy pants.