What doesn’t make you stronger kills you. I think that’s how the saying goes. While not completely sold on the premise, it’s still probably prudent to know what those things frequently are. Obviously heart disease and the Big C usher a great many souls to the afterlife (or, alternatively, to a decomposing void for our atheist romantics). However, both of those afflictions are examples of nature’s capriciousness rather than man’s. And it’s what we do to ourselves that most often attracts our notice.
So consider some prominent examples of our own efforts to bolster the embalming business. Transportation takes a significant toll. Car wrecks cause many thousands of deaths every year. It’s interesting that American road deaths actually peaked all the way back in 1972. That’s so long ago that Robert E. Lee and Christopher Columbus were good guys and illiterate equatorial Amerindians were foreigners. As I’ve said before, in liberal societies the future is fixed; it’s the past that’s always changing.
Though, of course, there are plenty other sources of anthropogenic mortality. Gun deaths are frequently in the news. As they are even more frequently a prog bete noir. And if you include suicides (which you should not), accidents, and general black barbarity then gun deaths account for a number of annual deaths eerily similar to spinning tires on asphalt.
Between cars and guns the equivalent of a small city is vaporized each year. But do you know what approximates the butcher’s bill for both those combined? Drugs. Last year 64,000+ people died from drug overdoses in America. That’s probably not enough for National Review’s Kevin Williamson, though there’s always old photos of Dresden to comfort him in the night. Yet despite its insufficiency for some, the number of drug overdose deaths remain very significant.
For years this was mostly a mystery to me. Why would people kill themselves over an idiot buzz? To be honest, I never really had much appreciation for narcotics. That is until I snapped a few bones some years ago, and found myself in more anguish than Seth Rogan watching the birth of a gentile baby. My attending quack prescribed a high-caliber analgesic and, after initially refusing to take it, I finally relented under misery’s counsel. The result was phenomenal. I don’t know if the pain actually went away, only that I didn’t care. I felt euphoric, elated, and entirely contented. If I had been blogging at the time, something like this would have been that day’s entry.
It was only after recovering my senses and cynicism that I was able to reflect on the immense power and allure of these chemicals. In particular I considered the appeal they must hold for people whose unfulfilled and unappreciated lives represent such a stark contrast with the fleeting bliss available in a pill. I’ll return to that idea momentarily.
Though first, it was surprising to learn that fentanyl has surpassed previously preeminent opioids such as Oxycodone as the plurality killer. Though it shouldn’t be surprising given fentanyl’s potency: allegedly 50 times more powerful than heroin. With heroin itself still accounting for over 15,000 annual overdose deaths, something multiples more chemically vigorous is likely going to offer much greater highs…and lows.
That’s not to say fentanyl is strictly a manifestation of pharmaceutical malignancy. While the Mexican drug kitchens that ship it north certainly exist to convert coffins into pesos, its original form actually has a legitimate function. There are people whose debilitating pain had made their lives a carnival of agony. For many of these, a fentanyl patch has made life bearable again. Thus banning the product outright would present its own victim profile.
So rather than take a position on legality, I want to discuss why so many young people are losing their lives to a needle. I have no data, but only intuition to say that the vast majority of opioid abusers are from America’s untouchable caste: whites on the bell curve’s left flank. There is no group so universally despised. That they would be held in contempt by more diverse trough feeders is hardly a surprise. That they are equally demeaned by more affluent whites is a thing of sheer malevolence. Some of these goodwhites will one day find comeuppance in the similar treatment of their own posterity. Because reversion to the mean is a real thing. And unlike Lake Wobegon, not all children are above average.
Unlike much dumber and more flamboyantly pathological inner city blacks, left-flank whites do harm primarily to themselves. And no cities burn for their folly. As a result of this restraint, they find themselves utterly bereft of institutional support. While every “minority” enjoys a catalogue of advocacy organizations and pandering politicians, these forgotten people attract only apathy when they can’t attract scorn. There is no affirmative action, or Appalachian lives matter. They have no outlets of righteous outrage or stepladders into the middle class. Rather, living in their tiny houses and trailers, they are said to be privileged. As such, absolutely no one champions their culture, their struggles, their history, or ambitions. Their livelihoods are dissolved by outsourcing and immigration, and their protests are dismissed as supremacy. To call such modest people supremacists for taking pride in the few things they have to call their own requires a special kind of evil. The kind Hollywood and Washington produce in abundance.
So considering the emotional delta between a life of few opportunities and vast popular disdain, compared to the euphoria of opium’s sanctuary, one can begin to understand the drug’s mortal attraction. Even for those who don’t feel it themselves.
That’s not to say personal accountability is voided. No matter what their lot, it can not be denied these people are still making conscious decisions to poison themselves. Which means positive alternate decisions should be far more available. Their public state universities should provide scholarships and slots to citizens of their state. American industries should employ Americans. And the political representation of poor whites should treat them as kindly as if they were violent, parasitic, foreign colonists. None of these things are charity, but merely the natural functions of a healthy nation. And there’s no drug necessary to feel euphoric about them.