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On the eve of historic legislation that will shower more money on the rich and slash health care for the poor, I find myself on the island of Malta, wandering the ancient walled city of Medina, where the Romans ruled for 600 years before their empire collapsed in a heap of decadence and fire. On the brink of history, I’m sweating out last night’s tequila in a blazing Mediterranean sun, the last traces of a psychedelic compound ebbing in my brain, and wondering how the hell I got here.
I…
