In drug-dabbling days of yore, there was one narcotic that I knew from the get-go could be my undoing: heroin.
With the possible exception of sex, there’s no euphoric feeling on Earth so sweet as a smack rush. And while I don’t accept that dipping into any drug for an experimental adventure – not crack, not methamphetamines, not LSD – will automatically predispose an individual toward addiction and a life of ruin, which is what the drug interdiction racket would have you believe, there’s no denying the siren song of heroin nirvana as a seductive compulsion.
Three times and out, I decided. Also, needles are creepy, even when injecting subcutaneously rather than into a vein.
So, no, I don’t necessarily view illicit drugs as an absolute and unequivocal scourge, though I am well aware of the harm caused to chronic partakers and society at large, especially where demand transects with supply – the criminality of trafficking, the inefficacy of gazillions spent on law enforcement.
But of all the substances available from your corner dealer, or your office connection, the most dimwitting, the dumm. . . . . READ MORE