Opiates: “Death on the Prescription Plan”

Like Harold Covington, I have a soft spot for Jewish writer James Howard Kunstler. For starters, his style amuses me, especially in his weekly (now twice weekly) blog Clusterfuck Nation. This blog plays a useful role beyond that, however, in that he consistently zeroes in on the damage his own tribe is doing to the United States (and the world). He can sum this up cleverly, bitingly, and accurately, yet of course he never names the Jew, even after he’s gone through half a dozen uninterrupted Jewish names.
His April 28th column is no exception. Consider the opening three paragraphs:
While the news waves groan with stories about “America’s Opioid Epidemic” you may discern that there is little effort to actually understand what’s behind it, namely, the fact that life in the United States has become unspeakably depressing, empty, and purposeless for a large class of citizens. I mean unspeakably literally. If you want evidence of our inability to construct a coherent story about what’s happening in this country, there it is.
I live in a corner of Flyover Red America where you can easily read these conditions on the landscape — the vacant Main Streets, especially after dark, the houses uncared for and decrepitating year by year, the derelict farms with barns falling down, harvesters rusting in the rain, and pastures overgrown with sumacs, the parasitical national chain stores like tumors at the edge of every town.
You can read it in the bodies of the people in the new town square, i.e. the supermarket: people prematurely old, fattened and sickened by bad food made to look and taste irresistible to con those sunk in despair, a deadly consolation for lives otherwise filled by empty hours, trash television, addictive computer games, and their own family melodramas concocted to give some narrative meaning to lives otherwise bereft of event or effort.
Kunstler lives in Greenwich, New York, a tiny village northeast of Saratoga Springs. He uses this setting for his surprisingly sympathetic World Made By Hand novels (four of them), where narrator Robert Earle is a carpenter in a post-oil world in which inhabitants of the United States are reduced to living like their ancestors did in the middle of the 1800s. I say sympathetic in that Kunstler creates a Gentile world, one which rings true to me, peopled by generally decent and caring folk. I salute Kunstler both for his ability to imagine a world so unlike the one in which he grew up (New York City) but more so for his willingness to actually like these White Christians. We all know many Jews have completely opposite views and feelings. Read more








