The all-powerful presidency has proven itself a
remarkably stressful proposition. So as Brian Abrams writes in his sharp
and funny new book, Party Like a President: True Tales of Inebriation, Lechery and Mischief From the Oval Office,
the occupants of 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. have been shameless in their
pursuit of an after-hours release. And that’s just the group who could
bear to wait.
Cocaine is the grandfather of party drugs. It’s been the unofficial substance of choice for the rich, famous, and sexy for decades now. In its heyday, coke was one of the MVPs of the infamous Studio 54, where its union with nightlife was officially sealed by the man in the moon with the cocaine spoon.
You think coke, you think slinky starlets wearing Halston, supermodels doing bumps backstage during Fashion Week, and groupies snorting lines of coke off of erect rock star dicks. That shit just sounds all sorts of glamorous, dirty, and sexy at the same time.
Unfortunately, that image is mostly a bunch of bullshit cultivated by years of inaccurate movie depictions of coke-fueled sex romps. Nowadays, most coke is mixed with so much other shit that it’s about as pure as Jenna Jameson on her wedding night.