Cartel Gunmen Kill 10th Mexican Journalist in 6 Months



Authorities confirmed the murder of yet another Mexican journalist, marking 10 unsolved cases by suspected cartel gunmen in six months.

Last week, yet unidentified gunmen shot and killed Mexican journalist Candido Rios Vasquez, a veteran crime beat reporter for the local newspaper Diario de Acayucan in the town of Covarrubias, Veracruz, Mexico’s Proceso reported. The murdered journalist was an outspoken critic of the Mexican government, its corruption, and repressive tactics.

At the time of the murder, Rios Vasquez was standing outside a local convenience store with former local police commander Victor Alegria and another man who has not been identified. A group of gunmen drove by the shop and opened fire, killing the unknown man and former cop. Rios Vasquez was seriously injured and died en route to a local hospital.

Despite the many assurances made by governments at the federal and state level, 2017 is one of the deadliest years for Mexico. The murders reached some of the once untouched tourist destinations and silenced Mexican journalists. In a span of five months, cartel gunmen murdered nine other journalists, Breitbart Texas reported.

Human rights activists and journalists previously called out the Mexican government for their inaction in addressing the impunity with which reporters are murdered, Breitbart Texas noted. Mexican authorities have not solved any of the 10 cases and are largely ineffective in addressing the multiple threats and attempts by cartel members.

Late last month, gunmen shot and killed veteran reporter Luciano Rivera at a bar in the resort town of Rosarito, Baja California. Rivera was a journalist with the local news outlet CNR TV.

In June, Mexican authorities confirmed that a charred body found in a rural area in Michoacan belonged to Mexican journalist Salvador Adame, Breitbart Texas reported. The TV reporter was kidnapped a month prior by a team of cartel gunmen.

In May, gunmen shot and killed Javier Valdez, a trailblazing journalist who helped start Rio Doce, an independent news outlet exposing government corruption and cartel activity in Sinaloa, Breitbart Texas reported.

In March, La Linea faction of the Juarez Cartel murdered investigative journalist Miroslava Breach, Breitbart Texas reported. Prior to her death, Breach covered relatives of a leading cartel member trying to take political office in the Mexican state of Chihuahua.

Ildefonso Ortiz is an award-winning journalist with Breitbart Texas. He co-founded the Cartel Chronicles project with Brandon Darby and Stephen K. Bannon.  You can follow him on Twitter and on Facebook.

Brandon Darby is managing director and editor-in-chief of Breitbart Texas. He co-founded the Cartel Chronicles project with Ildefonso Ortiz and Stephen K. Bannon. Follow him on Twitter and Facebook. He can be contacted at

Your Editor repeats the question.

Spanish Thrives in the U.S. Despite an English-Only Drive



At Carnitas Porky’s, a restaurant in the South Valley of Albuquerque, the menu is listed in Spanish on the side of the building.

Wander into El Super, a sprawling grocery store in the same valley where fortune seekers on horseback laid claim nearly four centuries ago to one of Spain’s most remote possessions, and the resilience of the language they brought with them stands on display.

Reggaetón, the musical genre born in Puerto Rico, blares from the speakers. Shoppers mull bargains in the accents of northern Mexico. A carnicería offers meat, a panadería bread, a salchichonería cold cuts, and there’s also a tortillería — that one’s self-explanatory for many who never even studied the language of Cervantes.

“Everything I need here is in Spanish,” said Vanessa Quezada, 23, an immigrant from the Mexican state of Chihuahua, gesturing toward the branch of the First Convenience Bank, where tellers greet people with a smile and “Buenas tardes.”

Indeed, the United States is emerging as a vast laboratory showcasing the remarkable endurance of Spanish, no matter the political climate.

Drawing on a critical mass of native speakers, the United States now has by some counts more than 50 million hispanohablantes, a greater number of Spanish speakers than Spain. In an English-speaking superpower, the Spanish-language TV networks Univision and Telemundo spar for top ratings with ABC, CBS, FOX and NBC. The made-in-America global hit song of the summer? “Despacito.”

At the same time, more than 20 states have enacted laws making English the official language, President Trump won the election with a platform that included building a border wall, and his push for new limits on legal immigration would require that applicants speak English to obtain legal residency green cards.

Juan Rodríguez, 44, a Colombian immigrant who owns La Reina, a Spanish-language radio station in Des Moines, said it was an “extremely uncertain time” for some Spanish speakers, particularly undocumented immigrants who are trying to be seen and heard less often now that the president has made deportation a priority.

“But that fear doesn’t prevent us from living our lives in Spanish,” Mr. Rodríguez added. “Iowa may be an English-only state, but it’s also our state.”

Throughout the world, the position of English as the pre-eminent language seems unchallenged. The United States projects its influence in English in realms including finance, culture, science and warfare.

But on a global level, Mandarin Chinese dwarfs English in native speakers, ranking first with 898 million, followed by Spanish with 437 million, according to Ethnologue, a compendium of the world’s languages. Then comes English with 372 million, followed by Arabic, Hindi, Bengali, Portuguese and Russian.

Immigration from Latin America bolstered the use of Spanish in the United States in recent decades, but scholars say other factors are also in play, including history, the global reach of the language, and the ways in which people move around throughout the Spanish-speaking world.

Authorities in parts of the United States have repeatedly argued for curbing the spread of Spanish, like the former Arizona schools chief who said all Spanish-language media should be silenced. A judge pushed back this week against that official’s drive to also ban the state’s Mexican-American studies program, saying the ban was “motivated by racial animus.”

Linguists trace some of the coveted vibrancy that Spanish now enjoys to decisions made well before Spain began colonizing the New World in 1492.

As the Mexican writer Carlos Fuentes explained in “The Buried Mirror,” his book about the Hispanic world, the 13th-century Spanish king Alfonso X assembled a cosmopolitan brain trust of Jewish intellectuals, Arab translators and Christian troubadours, who promoted Spanish as a language of knowledge at a time when Latin and Arabic still held prestige on the Iberian Peninsula.

Alfonso and his savants forged Spanish into an exceptionally well-organized language with phonetic standards, making it relatively accessible for some learners. They are thought to have hewed to a policy of castellano drecho— straight or right Spanish — imbuing the language with a sense of purpose.

Even today, Spanish remains mutually intelligible around the world to a remarkable degree, with someone, say, from the Patagonian Steppe in Argentina able to hold a conversation with a visitor from Equatorial Guinea, one of Africa’s largest oil exporters.

Drawing on entropy, a concept from thermodynamics referring to disorder, Jean-Benoît Nadeau and Julie Barlow, the Canadian authors of a 2013 bookcharting the evolution of Spanish, describe the degree to which Spanish is spread out geographically over a wide array of countries.

By this measure, Mandarin ranks low on the entropy scale since most of its speakers live in the same country. English boasts greater entropy, but Spanish, the majority language in more than 20 countries, ranks first, followed by Arabic.

Rivaling Spain and parts of Latin America, the United States exemplifies how the movement of people throughout the Spanish-speaking world is taking the language in new directions.

In metropolitan Los Angeles, an area with more than 4 million Spanish speakers — more than Uruguay’s entire population — linguists say that a new dialect has coalesced as different types of Spanish come into contact with one another. And here in New Mexico, an influx of Mexican and Central American immigrants is nourishing and reshaping a variant of Spanish that has persisted since the 16th century.

Ojos Locos, a cavernous sports bar in Albuquerque, offers a glimpse into how Spanish is changing. Like El Super, it’s part of a chain founded in the United States aimed at the Latino market.

“What’s a sports cantina without delicious authentic Mexican comida — mas tacos, mas wings y mas cerveza,” Ojos Locos explains on its website. Such servings were in abundance on a recent Sunday when Mexico’s national soccer team played against Jamaica, and mexicano Spanish seemed to be the venue’s dominant language.

But some tables were effortlessly mixing English and Spanish, especially those where children were accompanying their parents, while others, including tables of mixed-ethnicity couples, cheered, conversed and cursed (Mexico lost, 1-0) over their frozen margaritas almost entirely in English.

The ways in which families use languages at the dinner table also show how Spanish is evolving.

In the Nava family, which moved to New Mexico from northern Mexico more than 20 years ago, the grandparents passionately debate in Spanish the performance of their football team, the Dallas Cowboys.

But when their adult children talk to one another, it’s in Spanglish. And the language of their grandchildren? Mainly English, with a sprinkling of Spanish words here and there.

“Our real communication is in Spanglish,” said Cindy Nava, 29, a policy analyst at the New Mexico Legislature who arrived in the United States at the age of 7. “But we still recognize the importance of speaking Spanish correctly.”

Irking some grammarians, Spanglish is indeed gaining ground, evident in the way characters in telenovelas are speaking, Daddy Yankee’s reggaetón lyrics or ads like the Wendy’s commercial in which sweethearts bond over bacon cheeseburgers served on buns of “pan de pretzel.”

Ilan Stavans, a professor of Latino culture at Amherst College who has translated classics like Cervantes’s “Don Quixote” and Saint-Exupéry’s “The Little Prince” into Spanglish, argues that we are witnessing “the emergence of something totally new, not in any way pure, a mestizo language.”

Long before Mr. Trump was elected, the growth and durability of Spanish had caused concerns, leading to “official language” laws that in some cases limit the use of any language other than English in government offices and documents, and in other cases are largely symbolic.

Rosalie Porter, who came to the United States from Italy as a child and is now the chairwoman of an organization seeking to end bilingual education and declare English the official language of the United States, said, “When I was an immigrant child, my language was not politically correct.”

“Today it’s different,” said Ms. Porter, whose group, ProEnglish, was founded by John Tanton, a Michigan doctor who started a handful of organizations seeking to restrict immigration. “Immigrants enjoy a lot more visibility” she added, emphasizing that she understood the business reasons behind the growth of Spanish-language media.

Even apart from political efforts, the continued growth of Spanish in the United States is not assured. Linguists have documented how new generations of Latinos around the country are steadily shifting to English, just as descendants of other immigrants have done.

But if the past is a guide, Spanish will continue to evolve and endure.

“In many places in the U.S., English and Spanish are in bed with each other, a contact that is both generative and exciting,” said Junot Díaz, the writer who masterfully explores the immigrant experience in the United States, largely through the travails of his Spanglish-speaking Dominican protagonist, Yunior.

“For many of us,” he went on, “Spanish is our path to love, and as history has proven no one can legislate away love.”

Your Editor  Loves bilinguism

The Moral Voice of Corporate America



The nation has split into political tribes. The culture wars are back, waged over transgender rights and immigration. White nationalists are on the march.

Amid this turbulence, a surprising group of Americans is testing its moral voice more forcefully than ever: C.E.O.s.

After Nazi-saluting white supremacists rioted in Charlottesville, Va., and President Trump dithered in his response, a chorus of business leaders rose up this past week to condemn hate groups and espouse tolerance and inclusion. And as lawmakers in Texas tried to restrict the rights of transgender people to use public bathrooms, corporate executives joined activists to kill the bill.

These and other actions are part of a broad recasting of the voice of business in the nation’s political and social dialogue, a transformation that has gained momentum in recent years as the country has engaged in fraught debates over everything from climate change to health care.

In recent days, after the Charlottesville bloodshed, the chief executive of General Motors, Mary T. Barra, called on people to “come together as a country and reinforce values and ideals that unite us — tolerance, inclusion and diversity.”

Jamie Dimon of JPMorgan said, “The equal treatment of all people is one of our nation’s bedrock principles.”

Walmart’s chief executive, Doug McMillon, criticized Mr. Trump by name for his handling of the violence in Charlottesville, and called for healing.

And in a rebuke to the president, who suggested that both the racist groups and the counterprotesters marching in Charlottesville were to blame for the violence there, a wave of chief executives who had agreed to advise Mr. Trump quit his business advisory councils, leading to the dissolution of two groups.

The forthright engagement of these and other executives with one of the most charged political issues in years — the swelling confidence of a torch-bearing, swastika-saluting, whites-first movement — is “a seminal moment in the history of business in America,” said Darren Walker, the president of the Ford Foundation and a board member at PepsiCo.

“In this maelstrom, the most clarifying voice has been the voice of business,” he said. “These C.E.O.s have taken the risk to speak truth to power.”

This transformation didn’t happen overnight. Chief executives face a constellation of pressures, and speaking up can create considerable uncertainty. Customers can be offended, colleagues can feel isolated and relations with lawmakers can suffer. Words and actions can backfire, resulting in public relations disasters. All this as a chief executive is expected to constantly grow sales.

Even this past week, it was easy to discern careful calculations made by executives who chose to speak out against Mr. Trump. Many faced calls to resign from the presidential advisory councils, and the prospect of boycotts if they did not.

But they also faced notable and new kinds of pressure from within — from employees who expect or encourage their company to stake out positions on numerous controversial social or economic causes, and from board members concerned with reputational issues. In the past week, business leaders have responded with all-staff memos and town-hall meetings.

In short, while companies are naturally designed to be moneymaking enterprises, they are adapting to meet new social and political expectations in sometimes startling ways.

“Not every business decision is an economic one,” said Howard Schultz, the chairman of Starbucks, who was one of the country’s first company leaders to proactively address social issues. “The reason people are speaking up is that we are fighting for what we love and believe in, and that is the idealism and the aspiration of America, the promise of America, the America that we all know and hold so true.”

Looking for Controversy

Companies have reckoned with issues of race, class and gender for generations now.

On Feb. 1, 1960, four black college students sat down at the segregated lunch counter at a Woolworth’s store in Greensboro, N.C. The civil rights sit-in movement was born, and five months later, Woolworth’s desegregated.

Decades later, activists called on American companies to divest from apartheid South Africa. Under pressure, many big companies, including General Motors and Pepsi, pulled out of the country.

But for the most part, companies got political only under duress. Rarely have chief executives gone looking for a controversy. Instead, the prevailing view was one articulated by the economist Milton Friedman in The New York Times in 1970: “the social responsibility of business is to increase its profits.”

By the 1990s, some corporate actors began taking the initiative. Apple, Disney and Xerox extended health care benefits to partners of gay and lesbian employees, helping to pave the way for broader acceptance of gay rights. Still, promoting inclusion and advancing diversity were hardly part of the curriculum for emerging titans of industry.

“When I went to business school, you didn’t see anything like this,” said Marc Benioff, the founder and chief executive of Salesforce. “Nobody talked about taking a stand or adopting a cause.”

Now, Mr. Benioff is at the vanguard of a group of executives who are more connected — to customers, employees, investors and other business leaders — than ever before, and who are unafraid to use their influence.

In 2015, after Indiana passed a law that would have made it easier for religious conservatives to refuse service to gay people, Mr. Benioff canceled all Salesforce events in the state and threatened to relocate employees away from Indianapolis.

The outcry from Mr. Benioff and other business leaders helped force politicians, including Vice President Mike Pence, then the governor of Indiana, to reverse course. Ultimately, lawmakers passed a watered-down version of the law.

“C.E.O.s wield economic influence,” Mr. Benioff said. “Nobody wanted to lose those jobs in Indiana. But we had to make a statement that we were going to withdraw if they were going to create laws that were going to discriminate against our employees.”

The business community’s triumph in Indiana emboldened progressive executives, and many have become more willing to confront controversial topics unprompted.

Randall Stephenson, the chief executive of AT&T, recently reflected on racial tensions in America at a meeting of 2,000 employees. “Black lives matter,” Mr. Stephenson said, “we should not say, ‘All lives matter,’ to justify ignoring the real need for change.”

Hamdi Ulukaya, the founder and chief executive of the yogurt maker Chobani, has hired hundreds of refugees — drawing the ire of the far right, but making him a cause célèbre for progressives.

And even before the showdown in Indiana, Timothy D. Cook, the chief executive of the world’s largest company, Apple, came out as gay — the most prominent executive to make such an announcement. “I’m proud to be gay, and I consider being gay among the greatest gifts God has given me,” he wrote.

None of this is to say that all corporate leaders are now beacons of morality. The Uber co-founder Travis Kalanick was ousted amid a mushrooming sexual abuse scandal at the company, and reports that he had cultivated a frat house culture. Martin Winterkorn, a chief executive of Volkswagen, resigned amid his company’s emissions scandal.

But faced with circumstances they cannot in good conscience accept, more and more chieftains appear unafraid to act. In June, after the president withdrew the United States from the Paris climate accord, Elon Musk, the chief executive of Tesla, and Robert A. Iger, the chief of Disney, resigned from presidential advisory councils, setting the stage for this past week’s revolt.

“The C.E.O.s of big public companies don’t walk out onto the plank of social and political leadership by default,” said Nancy Koehn, a historian at Harvard Business School. “But today, to keep silent is to jeopardize the reputation of the company.”

‘Many Sides,’ One Voice

Last weekend, as white nationalists protested the removal of a statue of the Confederate general Robert E. Lee in Charlottesville, chief executives were paying close attention to the president’s response. Among those watching was Kenneth C. Frazier, the chief executive of the drugmaker Merck and one of dozens of executives who had agreed to advise Mr. Trump on economic issues.

Mr. Frazier disagreed with the president’s stances on immigration and climate change, but he believed it was important to have a seat at the table. Yet for Mr. Frazier, the son of a janitor and the grandson of a man born into slavery, the president’s remarks — in which he blamed the violence on “many sides” — were too much to bear.

On Monday morning, Mr. Frazier said he would step down from Mr. Trump’s manufacturing council. “As C.E.O. of Merck and as a matter of personal conscience, I feel a responsibility to take a stand against intolerance and extremism,” he wrote.

The president took to Twitter, lacerating Mr. Frazier and attacking Merck, bluster that alienated more chief executives. By the end of the day, the chiefs of Under Armour and Intel had dropped off the same advisory group. The following morning, three nonprofit business leaders also quit.

As the manufacturing council fell apart, another presidential advisory group was also tottering. The Strategic and Policy Forum, a group with chief executives of some of the country’s biggest companies, held a conference call and agreed to disband.

The reaction from business leaders extended well beyond the confines of the presidential advisory councils.

James Murdoch, the chief executive of 21st Century Fox, pledged to donate $1 million to the Anti-Defamation League. The gesture was all the more remarkable because Mr. Murdoch is the son of Rupert Murdoch, a staunch supporter of Mr. Trump, and because his company operates Fox News, known for its favorable coverage of the president.

“What we watched this last week in Charlottesville and the reaction to it by the President of the United States concern all of us as Americans and free people,” the younger Mr. Murdoch wrote in an email to associates. “I can’t even believe I have to write this: standing up to Nazis is essential; there are no good Nazis. Or Klansmen, or terrorists.”

Technology companies severed ties with white supremacist groups. Google and GoDaddy dropped domain registrations for far right publications. Facebook deleted articles that celebrated hate crimes. Spotify took down music by white power rock bands.

And in Seattle, Mr. Schultz held a town-hall meeting for more than 1,000 employees where he condemned bigotry and called for unity. “I could sense the anxiety,” he said. “I felt a need to create a safe and loving environment.”

All week, the business world’s actions went beyond the donations to charity and pledges to plant trees that once defined corporate social responsibility.

“For a long time, corporate social responsibility was a buzzword marketing tool, walled off within an organization,” said Alan Fleischmann, president of Laurel Strategies, an executive advisory firm. “Now it has to be central for the C.E.O., part of their everyday responsibility and leadership.”

The Cost of Speaking Out

Kevin Plank, the founder and chief executive of Under Armour, the athletic apparel maker, built a brand that celebrates diversity, sponsoring athletes like the basketball player Stephen Curry and artists like the ballerina Misty Copeland. Yet when asked to serve on the president’s manufacturing council early this year, Mr. Plank agreed, voicing his optimism about Mr. Trump.

His star sponsors made their displeasure known. “I strongly disagree with Kevin Plank’s recent comments in support of Trump,” Ms. Copeland said. Mr. Curry also expressed his distaste for the president.

So on Monday night, when Mr. Plank stepped down from his advisory role, he might have thought his troubles were over. Instead, Mr. Trump’s supporters have risen up, calling for a boycott of Under Armour.

“The leaders of corporate America have demonstrated the courage to call out something that is unacceptable,” said Mr. Walker of the Ford Foundation. “But speaking truth to power can come with huge costs.”

Because companies have inherently diverse customers and employees, taking a stand can be a no-win situation for chief executives. For every employee, investor and customer they make happy, they may well make someone else unhappy.

When Pepsi this year released an ad featuring Kendall Jenner offering a police officer a soda in the midst of an apparent Black Lives Matter protest, the condemnation was swift. Two years earlier, Starbucks drew wide ridicule when, as part of an effort by Mr. Schultz to start a national conversation on race relations, baristas were encouraged to write “race together” on coffee cups.

Companies on the conservative end of the ideological spectrum are also increasingly willing to stand up for their principles, and just as likely to face criticism. After it was revealed that the family behind the fast-food chain Chick-fil-A supported groups that opposed same-sex marriage, gay rights protesters targeted the restaurants.

Hobby Lobby, the craft-supply chain run by a conservative Christian family, challenged a provision in the Affordable Care Act that required family-owned corporations to pay for insurance coverage for birth control. Despite drawing the ire of the left, Hobby Lobby took its case to the Supreme Court and won.

Critics of Mr. Plank’s decision cast their net wide, going after all the chief executives who quit the president’s business advisory groups. “This is a remarkable moment in history,” said Lou Dobbs, a Fox Business Network host. “Every one of those C.E.O.s, mark my words, is a coward — and the president is exactly right — a grandstander in the service of the left. And no one should make any mistake: This is a coordinated, orchestrated attack against this president.”

John Carney, a business editor for Breitbart News, the conservative news site, wrote that “corporate America is part of the opposition.”

“The confederacy of the media institutions, the American left, and Corporate America has aligned itself against the populist uprising that brought Trump to the White House,” Mr. Carney wrote. “The battle lines are clear.”

Those executives who go out on a limb know the risks. “We all recognize that with every decision we make, there is group of people that are not going to agree with us,” Mr. Schultz said. “But you must define you core purpose for being. We stand in the interest of something greater than just making money.”

A Diversity Paradox

Diversity — of opinions, ideologies and religions — is what makes taking a stand on moral issues so treacherous for C.E.O.s. Yet paradoxically, it is also diversity — of races, genders and worldviews, among customers and the work force — that makes many of the executives, when forced to take a stand, come down on the side of inclusion, tolerance and acceptance.

Business leaders looking to the future are accepting that it is unwise to isolate swaths of the population by coming off as racist, sexist or intolerant. Instead, for the sake of the bottom line, it is imperative that they appeal to the widest possible audience. “Business leaders aren’t threatened by an America that is browner, an America that is more diverse; they welcome that,” Mr. Walker said. “Business leaders are bullish on diversity.”

What’s more, some executives have concluded that speaking out on issues of morality can improve more than their reputations — it can benefit recruitment, morale and even sales. “Our employees come here knowing that this is something that is extremely important to us,” said Mr. Benioff of Salesforce. “Business is the greatest platform for affecting change.”

If the voices of business leaders seem amplified, that is perhaps because in such partisan times, few politicians can speak to both sides of the aisle, leaving a vacuum for business leaders to fill. This last week, the executives on Mr. Trump’s business advisory councils piped up, led by Mr. Frazier of Merck.

The black chief executive of a $172 billion company — a multimillionaire who was born in a poor neighborhood, a former lawyer who fought for civil rights and had agreed to advise the president — Mr. Frazier offered remarks that set the tone for the business world at large.

“Our country’s strength stems from its diversity,” he wrote, adding, “America’s leaders must honor our fundamental values by clearly rejecting expressions of hatred, bigotry and group supremacy, which run counter to the American ideal that all people are created equal.”

The C.E.O.s had found their voice.

Your Editor Hopes: Business leaders may become our diversity champions.

Journalists Fear for Their Lives


by CHARLIE SPIERING,  Breitbst News

Members of the establishment media reacted in horror after President Donald Trump criticized them again last week during a rally in Phoenix in the wake of the violent Charlottesville protests.

Axios founder Jim VandeHei sent a series of distressed messages on Twitter early Wednesday morning after Trump called the media “bad people” and “sick people” who “don’t like our country.”

To family/friends who support Trump: what he said last night about reporters was despicable, extremely deceptive, dangerous. Claim bias. Fine. Claim elitism. Fine. Claim the press hyperventilates/bloviates. Fine. But to say reporters erase America’s heritage, don’t love America, turn off cameras to hide truth, are to blame for racial tension, is just plain wrong. I worked w/ reporters like Daniel Pearl who died a gruesome death seeking truth; scores die yearly exposing facts. There are great Americans deeply concerned about a changing nation. God forbid one buys Trump’s mad rant and takes action..

MSNBC’s Chuck Todd also expressed worry that journalist’s lives were in danger.

“Whether POTUS means it or not, I don’t know, but this could motivate a crazy,” he saidon Twitter. “Dangerous rhetoric. Sad how few elected officials condemn it.”

“Who will Donald Trump blame when a journalist gets severely injured or worse by someone acting in his name?” wrote Tom Namako of Buzzfeed. “’Fake news?’”

“I’ve worked as reporter in China; during riots/protests in Seoul, Rangoon, Manila; civil rights demos in Miss/AL,” wrote the Atlantic’s James Fallows.  “Hadn’t seen this.”

“This was incitement, plain and simple,” said ABC’s Cecilia Vega on ABC’s Good Morning America. “This was an assault that went on and on and on, I’ve got to tell you … this one felt different, it really feels like a matter of time, frankly, before someone gets hurt.”

CNN reporters also signaled their distress, after Trump supporters roared “CNN Sucks!” during the rally.

“The attacks from the most powerful office in the world are fundamentally dangerous,” CNN Chief National Security Correspondent Jim Sciutto wrote.

“This is why I keep calling the president’s words ‘poison,’ CNN’s Brian Stelter wrote. “His attacks seep into the country’s bloodstream.”

“That is dangerous rhetoric. It just is. It is dangerous. Something is going to happen,” a distraught CNN reporter Chris Cillizza said on-air. “You cannot vilify the media like this. I know I’m a reporter, but you cannot do this with any profession and expect no consequences.”

CNN political analyst Peter Mathews said Trump’s rhetoric as “dangerous,” comparing it to same rhetoric that Hitler used in Nazi Germany.

“That is going back to not just McCarthyism, but perhaps worse, even toward fascism or something like what was going in Germany before Hitler and when he was holding on to power,” Mathews said.

“People close to him know it puts journalists at risk just for doing their jobs,” CNN’s Sara Murray wrote. “He does it anyway.”

Murray warned that some of Trump’s supporters “treat Trump’s ‘fake news’ diatribes seriously,” and “harass reporters and photographers.”

Your Editor Asks: How long before one of us is murdered?

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