Three cold, electronically charged, neon trimmed, and fictitious government-approved highs for scrolling through billionaire corporate heir's Tumblr pages while staring out the window of a private jet featuring 1080p/surround-sound screens blasting Hype Williams' music videos, heated microgravity seating, and free luxury bottles of designer French wine, as you land on the roof of London's top executive night club drenched in sweat after those many lines of coke in the airport bathroom.
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