Send us a text Last time, we traced how Mexico’s past built the world we see now. The old systems never vanished—they just changed names. Power shifted hands, but the structures stayed the same. This episode picks up in the mid-1980s, when a young man named Adolfo de Jesús Constanzo stepped out of Miami’s shadows and into Mexico City. He wasn’t a priest, but he carried candles, bones, and promises. He called himself El Padrino. From the crowded streets of Zona Rosa to the back rooms where nar...
All content for Nightmares of the Americas: Indigenous Tales is the property of Joseph & Gabriel Behill and is served directly from their servers
with no modification, redirects, or rehosting. The podcast is not affiliated with or endorsed by Podjoint in any way.
Send us a text Last time, we traced how Mexico’s past built the world we see now. The old systems never vanished—they just changed names. Power shifted hands, but the structures stayed the same. This episode picks up in the mid-1980s, when a young man named Adolfo de Jesús Constanzo stepped out of Miami’s shadows and into Mexico City. He wasn’t a priest, but he carried candles, bones, and promises. He called himself El Padrino. From the crowded streets of Zona Rosa to the back rooms where nar...
Send us a text In this episode Joseph, Gabe, and RedBear dig into Mexico’s Indigenous heart — the food, the languages, the rituals, the medicine, all of it still alive today. Tortillas, tamales, pozole, Day of the Dead, Nahuatl and Maya, curanderos doing limpias — this isn’t the past, it’s daily life for millions. This week we’re talking about how that continuity runs through Mexico, from the table to the altar to the healer’s smoke. And at the end, we point to what was coming in the 1980s, w...
Nightmares of the Americas: Indigenous Tales
Send us a text Last time, we traced how Mexico’s past built the world we see now. The old systems never vanished—they just changed names. Power shifted hands, but the structures stayed the same. This episode picks up in the mid-1980s, when a young man named Adolfo de Jesús Constanzo stepped out of Miami’s shadows and into Mexico City. He wasn’t a priest, but he carried candles, bones, and promises. He called himself El Padrino. From the crowded streets of Zona Rosa to the back rooms where nar...
