HeyJaredHarry's Last Stand Newsletter
Survival, socialism, cancer and left wing politics for all with a dash of humour. jmsmith.substack.com
- Indexed pieces, last 90 days
- 21
- Latest publication
- Sep 30, 2026
- Audience
- By platform
- Earliest in this view
- Aug 24, 2026
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They share a verified publisher identifier or are linked from the publication’s official site. People stay separate from their publications.
Latest pieces
A Moment Before Five (opens the original)
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<img alt="Close up of a clock face in darkness" class="sizing-normal" height="4000" src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1776090982469-d9bf7f4af082?crop=entropy&cs=tinysrgb&fit=max&fm=jpg&ixid=M3wzMDAzMzh8MHwxfH
Nothing Sticks in Neoliberal Politics, Especially Hope (opens the original)
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<img alt="" class="sizing-normal" height="409" src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!vBuP!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F36903492-4f06-4cc6-8c1a-278bfb13a7a1_615x409.jpeg"
“It Was A Fucking Blast” (opens the original)
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Peter Scott SmithSeptember 28, 1959-October 18, 2009He should have been the one to say who and what he was. Instead, I am left to share his art, his reflections, and the memories of those who loved him. I loved my brother very much. But I hate that I am the one left to commemorate his dance to the music of time. Peter should be the one to say who and what he was. During his life, because he suffered from schizophrenia, Peter was too often robbed of his autonomy and his right to define himself.To
Labour Party Conference: Neoliberalism Parties Like It Was 1914 (opens the original)
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<img alt="" class="sizing-normal" height="720" src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!zwpk!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F18b8d65e-ed40-4808-8e65-966a7d092e41_960x720.jpeg"
To Care and Be Cared For Is What Makes Being Alive Matter (opens the original)
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My parents spent the last 10 years of their marriage not in a golden sunset of retirement but as caregivers to my brother Peter, who had schizophrenia. Their loving care for Peter ensured my brother had a life worth living, but it took its toll on them, especially my mother. She died from cancer a few months shy of her 71st birthday. Peter followed her nine years later when he died at 50 from pulmonary fibrosis. With Peter gone, my father and I became a party of two, and I became his caregiver u
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