A Legal Parody of Reality The Professor

What the fuck is going on?

What the fuck is going on? Life on the streets of the UK has morphed into a bizarre parody of reality. It seems like almost every day some new state or nation around the world is opening its arms to the kaleidoscopic revolutionary potential of cannabis, yet here in the UK we have just elected a government who would rather we all smashed ourselves up with unpronounceable 'research chemicals' instead.

'Legals' have been getting a lot of bad press recently, and rightly so. Its easy to throw stones at the individuals profiting from their production and sale, but to do so without acknowledging the wider sociopolitical context is worthless.

The exploration of consciousness is a fundamental part of conscious existence. Most animals take time out to get high, and all but the most oppressed cultures in history have sought to transcend the brutal here and now of everyday existence by altering or enhancing their consciousness, whether it be through drums, dance, song, meditation and/or using the power plants available to them. When traditional ways of doing this are prohibited by an external authority then authority-fearing individuals will always look for other, non-prohibited ways of tweaking their brain chemistry. So here we are, forty four years of life under the Misuse of Drugs Act and the subjects of Cruel Britannia are getting twatted on gear with names like N-(adamantan-1-yl)-1-(5-fluorobutyl)-1H-indazole-3-carboxamide quinolin-8-yl-1-pentyl-1h-indole-3-carboxilate.

Consider that hardly a good word has ever been written about legals and you have to wonder why people take them in the first place. Most users fall into one of three groups: those with nothing to do but blast time away, the bored and desperate; then there are those who like to party and lead regular lives but would lose their jobs if they tested positive for regular drugs; and, finally, the old skool addicts, those living with hardcore, life-long addictions...

“I only smoke this stuff cos I get so bored and lonely – I'm a single mum, I can't be going out all the time or having people around in the evenings, smoking this shit gives me a break from wanting to kill myself.”

“This shit is fucking crazy! It fucks me right up, one joint and I was bang out for eleven hours straight! Weed doesn't even touch the sides any more.”

Most people in this first group have fallen through our Big Society's shredded safety net, people who just want to block out all the pain that life on this God forsaken island has dealt them. No money, no education, confidence, job, purpose, motivation or hope? Fuck it, may as well get munted. The schools of the New World Order are churning out lost souls by the million, year after year, and the brutal roller coaster of poverty in the UK is just cranking into gear. Scream for speed.

“I used to love getting wrecked – pills, coke, acid, weed, shrooms, K, all of it. I'd lose my job if I took any of that shit now though. Fuck it, it's a crazy world. Research chemicals it is!”

“Care work is stressful, I used to love a spliff in the evening after work but I'd lose my job if I smoke weed now and I can't drink, I hate booze, so I smoke this stuff.”

Programmers, engineers, call centre employees, airline pilots, oil rig workers, managers in multinational corporations, sportsmen, taxi drivers, builders; if the job is drug tested then legals are on the menu.

For the third group, the old skool hardcore living with entrenched addictions, having a place where they can pick up their fix along with a newspaper and a pint of milk can be a life changer:

“This is fucking brilliant, its a lot cleaner than the street gear and I don't have to hang around with a load of junkies just to keep my wheels on the road, if you know what I mean.”

But not always in a good way:

“That shit's fucking strong man, I just got out after six weeks for assaulting a cop. I tried to bite his eye out.”

“Gimme half a bag man, go on, half a bag, anything, come on man, whaddya want? I ain't got nothing, nothing man, come on I'll suck yer dick man, I'll suck your fucking dick.”

On a high street near you, right now.

Criminalizing 'legals' should be easy for any government, but what are people going to do then if traditional drugs are still prohibited? Start buying ingredients from the DIY store, petrol station and chemist and get busy with recipes they found on the internet? You know it. Meth, krokodil or jenkum anyone? That's where this country is headed if those unconscionable suits in Westmonster don't do something soon. Hordes of desperate, frenzied and chemically lobotomised zombies will run the emergency services into the ground and then devour everything in the country that can be smoked, snorted, injected or stuck up their arse, including Mr Cameron and his new cabinet.

It has to make you wonder: why do our national laws forbid the use of natural, healing and enlightening entheogens such as cannabis, magic mushrooms and cacti but encourage us to consume vast quantities of alcohol, junk food and obscure chemicals? Sickness and stupidity beckon the nation.

When we look west we see states across the US racing to relegalize cannabis, we look east to Amsterdam, we look south, towards Spain, and north, to Freetown Christiana in Denmark. All around us people are smoking cannabis recreationally and legally. Spanish Cannabis Associations are essentially private smoking clubs. As a member you get a choice of different forms and varieties of cannabis and a suitable environment in which to consume it. 

Membership is controlled and limited and associations are permitted to grow a specific number of plants per member. Production is regulated, books are kept and tax is paid. It is very civilized. The Irish put a new set of drug laws together and got them implemented in 48 hours.
It can be done that quickly.