I popped by to see Junior Trump last night.
Well actually it was more like 4 AM. Junior is nocturnal as most cocaine addicts are, and I’m just a cat. We prefer the night; you meet some really fucked up people.
I asked him how Eric was coping with all the attention and pressure being brought to bear on the Trump Org after Mazars fired them as clients.
“He’s climbing walls. Did you see him on Hannity the other night? He’s was off the chain, drawing imaginary geographical links from Hillary to Letitia. His big conclusion? They’re both in New York state. It would have been hilarious if it didn’t feel like I was watching him unravel in front of the whole MAGA world. And don’t forget my dad watches Hannity religiously. Eric is in so much shit and his nerves are so shattered he asked me for some cocaine.”
It was at this point Junior deployed and snorted a few rails for himself before offering me a line and continuing with his tirade.
“Fucked if I’m going to give him my cocaine. I need it. I don’t know if you’ve heard but I’m a bit of an addict. For Eric, I bought some shit from a guy under a pier on the beach who said it was coke. Good enough for Eric. He’s cracking under pressure, and I don’t think that loon wife of his is helping. She’s freaking nuts you know. But all this shit hasn’t really changed his relationship with our father. My dad’s usual name for him is Loser, but with all the NY AG trouble he calls Eric his little Scapegoat.”
I did my line and having heard enough started to leave.
Junior shouted after me, “Hey dude, thanks for dropping by. Come on over anytime. We don’t have many friends. I think my fiancé scares people.”
The only interview I’ve ever done where I wasn’t told to fuck right off. I then proceeded to the pier on the beach. The rest of the night is kind of a blur.