I bet the best part of working in the Trump White House was the drugs. We’re talking about the headquarters of the most powerful man on earth, here — the political wildlife preserve that operates with near-perfect impunity and has its own in-house unlicensed pharmacy. And we’re not talking about the Carter administration, either.
The joint was under the rule of a geriatric, not-quite-strongman with a spray tan, who peaked in the ‘80s like some kind of John Hughes movie villain and appeared in live presidential debates with what looked like a classic snow-drip sniffle. So you gotta think: Who’s going stop you from getting ungodly high, on whatever you want, whenever you want, in a place like that?
