A couple of weeks ago, I decided to crack open a history book I hadn’t read in years: David Halberstam’s The Fifties, which – – obviously – – is about America in the decade of the 1950s. I didn’t grow up back then. That was the era of my parents as young adults and new parents. Yet I’ve always had a fascination of this era, since it represented America at the height of its power and true prosperity. Let’s just say that the thriving economy of the 1950s was actually based on innovation, growth, and productivity, as opposed to horseshit Federal Reserve fakery, which defines the repulsive era in which we presently reside. The book is nothing short of sensational, and I urge you to buy it and read it.
As a sad side note, Mr. Halberstam was killed sixteen years ago only one mile from my house in a car accident. The driver who plowed into him got handed five days of community service as punishment, largely due to the kindness of Halberstam’s family, who didn’t seek a long sentence. What a shameful loss. Halberstam was a great historian and writer, and we are fortunate to be able to enjoy the fruits of his labor.
