These guys ain’t got nothin’ on junk food!/Image: Licensed Adobe stock, steheap.
How are we doing, my questioning, conservative readers?
Once again, it’s been quite the week at the ol’ Trump White House, one that makes Jackson Pollock’s entire oeuvre seem rigid and orderly. Sadly, while President Donald Trump does his best to fill the world with disorder, misunderstanding, and animus, a quiet scourge eats away at all the splendor El Anarangado–see, I used the Spanish word for “orange,” which means Alt-right-ers like me, Kaylee MacEnnaKnee, LCSW, can’t be racist–tries to bloat the world with: the opioid epidemic. Alt-readers, our fellow countrymen (women and those who belong to other gender categories don’t matter, so, yes, “-men”) are becoming dependent on opiates and dying from the ravages of the disease of addiction at all-time-high rates. Soon, thanks to a radical, new, yummy-treat-based approach, spearheaded by she who seems a little high most of the time herself, Counselor to the President Kellyanne Conway, soon this public health crisis will all be a distant memory. For more, I share with you the following letter I received from a reader and my response.
Related: Read our exclusive Interview with Secretary Rex Tillerson.
Dear Kaylee,
I’m a 45-year-old Alt-male living in America’s heartland. I have a wife that I love, and two children who are the co-apples of my eyes. I go to an office to work in a field I find fun and fulfilling every day. I espouse and advance the goals of the Alt-right in all my affairs. But beneath the surface, I’m keeping a secret that is becoming harder and harder to hide as the problem worsens. I’m addicted to prescription painkillers. That’s the first time I’ve admitted that, even to myself. I’m so scared, Kaylee. What should I do? Who should I turn to? What if this horrible monster of addiction takes my life before I get the courage to reach out for help. What if I can’t be helped at all?
Desperate in Davenport
Dear Desperate,
First, take a deep breath. Let it out. You’re going to make it, and I’m going to give you the tools to do so, courtesy of the HLIW, or Head Lady In Waiting of the Alt-Kingdom, Mrs. Kellyanne Conway herself. But first you must do one thing for me: forget everything you’ve heard about how hard it is to recover from addiction, that it’s a precarious, even tenuous victory, when won. Now, you’re ready to learn the truth about addiction and recovery: it’s fun, easy, sweet, and salty. No, Desperate, I’m not high right now, myself. I’m simply speaking the truth, though I may be in a slight junk-food-induced fog from the Rocky Road and fried-potato treats I’ve just eaten. And that, Desperate, is how you’re going to kick your opiate habit: ice cream and french fries.
“On our college campuses, your folks are reading the labels, they won’t put any sugar in their body, they don’t eat carbs anymore, and they’re very, very fastidious about what goes into their body,” Conway said. “And then you buy a street drug for 5 dollars or 10 dollars, it’s laced with fentanyl, and that’s it,” Conway noted in a speech last Friday. “Eat the ice cream, have the french fry, don’t buy the street drug. Believe me, it all works out.”
And: Apprise yourself of the foolhardy-latest in viral video challenges for the right-wing teen.
I think you know what to do, Desperate. Next time that urge to pop a pill begins to take you over, an urge so powerful that people have literally forsaken their children, jobs, and continued existence because its grip on them is so fearsome. As you sweat, shake, and panic, go to the nearest Friendly’s, the place that it will be easiest to get the two things that are going to cure you forever. As you know, I speak not of Suboxone and Naltrexone, a medication that helps treat opiate withdrawal and one that eases drug cravings, respectively.
Order a super-scrumptious sundae with whatever toppings most tickle your taste buds and a heaping helping of sliced and fried spuds, your voice trembling and your eyes darting from side to side.
I’m telling you, and so is Conway, that when you can allow a bit of creamy goodness to glide down your throat and you can bring yourself to tear off a chunk of potato-based pleasure and send it down the hatch, despite how miserably dope-sick you are, you’ll notice your tremor get less intense, you’ll be aware you’re not so sweaty, and you’ll find that your thoughts have slowed down. Physical comfort, mental calm, and a placid alertness will wash over you. With each bite of high-calorie yumminess, your brain, once completely hijacked by a ravenous need for smack, will begin to rewire itself. When you’ve polished off the last mound of chilly goodness and the final slice of fried fantasy–guess what, Desperate?–you’ll then be addiction-free.
Now, lean over to further free that beautiful right butt cheek of yours, this time from being squished against those red, nylon seats at Friendly’s. Whip your wallet out, toss some green ones on the table, and leave a smiley face on the check. As a fellow diner passes you on your way out, smile, wink, and tip your hat at her. Stride to your car with your head held high, even tossing your chapeau into the air like Marlo Thomas in the opening credits to “That Girl.” Because like her, you’re gonna make it after all!
And know this, too: staying sober is going to be a piece of cake, a cakewalk, and a cake you can have and eat too. That’s because Conway shared in the same speech mentioned in the Herald piece above, that some confectionary geniuses are on the case.
“We’ve recently added to our offices, located on Turkey Hill, Maryland, to work on more treatment options for those suffering from opiate addiction, Dr. William Wonka, and Vermont-based researchers Benjamin Cohen and Jerry Greenfield,” Conway said.
Also, in keeping with the Trump admin’s habit of appointing relatives who don’t know what they’re doing to high-level policy positions, her Auntie Annie would be contributing her considerable chewy-pretzel know-how to Conway’s anti-opiate-addiction team at the White House.
I hope that anyone reading this post and struggling with an addiction to opiates now knows that help is as close as the nearest mall food court. From working with my own clients in my practice, I know that the cycle of sobriety-relapse can be deeply frustrating, even leading to total hopelessness and despair. You can get to a point where you’re so tired of getting clean and then relapsing that you cease to believe recovery is possible, and you don’t care whether you live or die anymore. Today begins the end of that torture. As soon as you hold on to the hope of shaking some sprinkles on your sundae, dipping a french fry in ketchup, and rubbing your tummy while smiling and emitting the spontaneous moan that comes with simultaneous pleasure and satisfaction, healing begins.
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© 2018 Akbar Khan
