That NY Times upbeat shopping report on gift-horse laundering recalls Judeo-Christo-Muslim-Buddhist-whatever X-marketing of indulgences to complicitously blessed international drug-running bandit-patrons of days gone by. Battling the state for tax-whack is the grand legacy of brawling twix cult and state. Tithe or tax, forgiveness or the noose, adorable mass-murderer, theism or atheism, no exit, you're hoisted. It's a fine compact for building monuments to bedrugged faith of earthly pleasures, temples and capitols, cons spiritual blessing and caressing cons secular for percentages generous. Bedrugged with the rich history and rewarding journalism of such back-scratching by gods of mammons galore, one wonders how many Caribbean rimmers of yet unadvertized international cults are now bulging their laundry sacks cuts of the drugs. To the cults of rome and jerusalem and mecca for swamplords of rickety blow-downs, of scientologists mimcking these venerable predecessors, add the ex-swiss bankers now sweltering in hellish Cayman, the hot-eyed ex-usa's with kids in college, sole-practitioner very hungry beagles, all deeply inhaling the colombian aroma. All offering mother goose refuge from Sam, off-shore, in the cave of shadows, any world of illusory power where you're willing to pay the stiff-arm dues for protective delusion. There's no fee meal like that served by god-mammon's own earthly courtesans and courtiers sweet-and-sour abrading innermost money=immortality fears. CoS's E-meter-cleaner is dead-on for E-cash-drug jingling bells.