The Other McCain

"One should either write ruthlessly what one believes to be the truth, or else shut up." — Arthur Koestler

It Had to Be Written

Posted on | January 5, 2014 | 3 Comments

As soon as David Brooks shared his drug experiences with an unwilling world, the gonzo version was inevitable:

The silver 2001 BMW 535i roared through Adams Morgan, occasionally screeching over the sidewalks as my accountant wrenched both hands from the wheel for another toke at the weed-pipe. “Gadzooks, man!” I shouted. “Can you keep it together for another fifteen miles, or at least outside the District limits?” We were halfway through our 35 mile journey from Bethesda to Falls Church, with enough dangerous narcotics to stun a grizzly bear in the trunk: We’d started with nine ounces of weed, six rocks of crack, a sugar jar full of blow, 36 vicodin tablets, a cage filled with live Bolivian arrow toads, and two jars of ketamine. Plus two quarts of Beefeater gin, a case of Schlitz malt liquor, and a four ounce ball of Afghan hash: Surely enough to get this pair of degenerate drug addicts to Fall’s Church. After that what man could say? . . .

Read the rest at Popehat.

 

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Comments

  • Quartermaster

    It’s not surprising that Brooks is a depraved reprobate. It’s part of the package that makes him what he is.

  • Steve Skubinna

    No way. Brooks is a better dressed edition of Obamacare Pajama Boy trying to pretend he’s a reprobate. A whining spineless educated fool vainly trying for some street cred.

    Next step: a muscle shirt from Nieman Marcus, a pair of Wayfarers and a temporary tattoo reading Born To Raise Heck.

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