Kash Patel: The Drunk in the Poodle Room
He’s a drunk, he’s panicking, and his lawyer is a punchline.
There’s a moment in every Trump-era career arc, and I mean every one, where the walls close in, the flop sweat starts, and the doomed apparatchik begins thrashing around like a catfish on a hot dock.
For FBI Director Kash Patel, that moment arrived this weekend with a sickening thud.
The Atlantic’s Sarah Fitzpatrick dropped a devastating report on Friday night detailing what more than two dozen sources describe as a pattern of heavy drinking, chronic absenteeism, and behavior so erratic that his own security detail once had to deploy breaching equipment … the kind of gear SWAT teams use to knock down doors … just to wake him up.
Let that sink in. The director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation was so incapacitated, so deep in his cups that the people sworn to protect him had to treat his residence like they were on a meth lab raid just to rouse him from his boozy stupor.
Patel is reported to get sloppy on weekends in private Vegas club called the Poodle Room.
Dude. Come on. The jokes write themselves.
His meetings for his day job as FBI director are apparently often pushed to later in the day because the nation’s top law enforcement officer is a liver-pickled booze sponge, reeking of hooch who has to sleep off the night before. The man entrusted with protecting the homeland from terrorism, espionage, and organized crime was, according to these sources, a national security vulnerability all by himself.
If I may use the technical term: duh.
And then came the detail that tells you everything about Kash Patel’s fragile psyche and his tenuous grip on reality: On April 10th, unable to log into his FBI computer, Patel had what sources described as a “freak-out,” convinced Trump had fired him.