The Interesting Life of Cocaine Kingpin George Jung


The real-life George Jung was trying to avoid Beta provider and corporate drone hell, and became hugely successful before his downfall

Life passes most people by while they’re making grand plans for it.

There’s one quality the cocaine film Blow has that many other rags to riches and good guy turned bad guy films don’t have – and that is its truthfulness. And by listening to the interviews George Jung is giving now that he’s out of prison, one can glean that the film starting Johnny Depp and Penelope Cruz is factually pretty accurate, another shocker in a Hollyweird industry that likes to manipulate reality to fit a preconceived script. Be advised this article contains spoilers.

Blow centers around the life of “Boston George” Jung, also known as El Americano, a major player in the cocaine trade of the 1970s and 1980s. Working with Pablo Escobar, he smuggled huge quantities of cocaine in from Colombia. He was worth $100 million at the height of his game, making him one of the richest drug dealers of all time.

One of the themes of Blow is the fact his poor bastard of a father worked hard and played by the rules only to be repeatedly shit on by life and an ungrateful wife. He toiled as a construction worker only to end up filing bankruptcy and listening to a sour Anglobitch quarrel at him all the time. George did not want to have this kind of a life. The sad life of a Beta provider plays out in the film as Johnny Depp narrates the hypergamous marital hell playing out on the screen:

Dad worked hard, but didn’t earn enough to please Mom. She’d thought she’d married above her class. He’d promised her the moon, but didn’t deliver. The truth was, business got slow and we were broke. No matter how often my mother left…no matter how many times she embarrassed him…he always took her back. He loved her. God, he loved her. Look, this is how it goes. Sometimes you’re flush, sometimes you’re bust.

And, spoken like a true man and minimalist, George’s father (Ray Liotta) delivers these lines, which echo the money and minimalism section on this blog.

When you’re up, it’s never as good it seems. When you’re down, you never think you’ll be up again. But life goes on. Remember that. Money isn’t real, George. It doesn’t matter. It only seems like it does.

Indeed, in reality money is only paper printed by a mafia (the government, an agency with a monopoly on violence) or digits on a computer screen. Most of the sheeple in the populace never realize this.

What makes Jung so interesting, apart from his success, is he could be any one of us in the disillusioned manosphere. He was a high school football player, a “natural leader” and his first arrest laughably came from solicitation of prostitution in the Puritanical, gynocentric legal system of the U.S. He went on to the University of Southern Mississippi and studied for a degree in marketing, but never completed his studies. Having been there and done that with the rigged education system pushing men to become geldings in the corporate world, I can’t say I blame him.

Moving On Up

Jung started off selling pot, a business that grew using his girlfriend’s status as a stewardess to ship pot back to New England. Back then, there was something called freedom and they didn’t check the bags of stewardesses. Wanting to make even more tax-free money to grow his fortune, he soon expanded his pot business to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico using airplanes stolen from Cape Cod. During his success as a successful pot kingpin, he was staying at the Playboy Club in Chicago and banging high quality tail.

Of course, as shown in the film Jung got busted in Chicago for smuggling 660 pounds of pot. Let’s stop for a moment to analyze this: The U.S. government has been destroying lives over a plant it deemed evil for 50 years, but is now playing legal games with an oblivious public as some states legalize it and others still send people to prison for it. If this doesn’t show a man how ridiculous the government is, nothing will. One of the best scenes in the film follows, and centers around his pot bust.

Judge: George Jung, you stand accused of possession of six hundred and sixty pounds of marijuana with intent to distribute. How do you plead?

George: Your honor, I’d like to say a few words to the court if I may.

Judge: Well, you’re gonna have to stop slouching and stand up to address this court, sir.

George: Alright. Well, in all honesty, I don’t feel that what I’ve done is a crime. And I think it’s illogical and irresponsible for you to sentence me to prison. Because, when you think about it, what did I really do? I crossed an imaginary line with a bunch of plants. I mean, you say I’m an outlaw, you say I’m a thief, but where’s the Christmas dinner for the people on relief? Huh? You say you’re looking for someone who’s never weak but always strong, to gather flowers constantly whether you are right or wrong, someone to open each and every door, but it ain’t me, babe, huh? No, no, no, it ain’t me, babe. It ain’t me you’re looking for, babe. You follow?

Judge: Yeah… Gosh, you know, your concepts are really interesting, Mister Jung.

George: Thank you.

Judge: Unfortunately for you, the line you crossed was real and the plants you brought with you were illegal, so your bail is twenty thousand dollars.

Think about how right on that scene is. The government has been busting people for carrying a bunch of plants across an imaginary line, a line it regularly disrespects by bringing in hordes of people from all over the world and catering to the demands of illegal aliens rather than its own citizens. That’s pretty fucked up.

In any case, while in prison, Jung met a man of German-Colombian descent named Carlos Lehder, and through this connection Jung became involved with the Medellin cartel out of Colombia and even went on to become best buds with Pablo Escobar. Jung, as the middle man flew planes full of cocaine from Colombia to southern California where his dealer, Richard Barile distributed it to everyone from Hollywood stars to coke whores.

At the height of his power, Jung was making $15 million per run. He was arrested in 1987 at his mansion in Nauset Beach, Massachusetts. Of course, he was ratted out in the film by his Colombian wife Mirtha, proving once again that women are never to be trusted. (Even the Bible repeatedly alludes to this.) As Jung lost his fortune and his mansion, she turned to the typical venom and vitriol women deliver to men who no longer serve a purpose in their lives, i.e. being a meal ticket providing material and social benefits:

We are broke, that is my fucking problem and you are a fucking spy. That’s right. Always spyin’, always judgin’. Everyone’s laughing in your face, you fucking pussy. You let Diego fuck you in the ass. Maybe because you like it, maybe because you’re a fucking faggot. That’s what I think you are. I think you are really fuckin’ him cause you’re not fucking me. Why’s that? Why? Why don’t you fuck me anymore? Don’t you ever touch me again, motherfucker! Don’t ever put your hands on me again, asshole! Get your hands off me.

Jung was broke after living life in the lap of luxury, skipping bail only to get arrested again a number of years later after a failed drug deal. It was then that Jung spent 20 years (out of a 60-year sentence) in prison until he was released in 2014.

Whatever criticisms one has of the man, there are those of us who have sympathy for Jung. There will always be a demand for cocaine, he was simply the supplier. There are even well-documented reasons to think Bill Clinton and George Bush were running cocaine through Mena, Arkansas right about the time the “drug war” was shutting down gangsters like Escobar and Jung in favor of CIA drug smuggling ring run by political gangsters like the Bushes and Clintons. So, it’s hard to take the moral high road and cast myopic judgement on Jung when people are blindly voting for bigger gangsters than these who only know how to play the game of sophistry better.

Jung tried to do anything he could to avoid the Beta provider and business world lackey hell his father found himself in, only to wind up in the same boat when all was said and done. But what a ride. More than anything, Jung’s life story helps explain why I have nothing but spite for the current gynocentric, corrupt government in the United States. It’s all an illustration that if a man wants to win at anything, he cannot play by the rules in a system set up to take advantage of him.

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