blogging it real

A fun article in the Guardian, which illustrates that even the venerable Sherlock Holmes was hooked on a bad, evil drug (admittedly, before big government began to believe it had the authority to make such activities illegal):

"Sherlock Holmes took his bottle from the corner of the mantelpiece and his hypodermic syringe from its neat morocco case. With his long, white, nervous fingers he adjusted the delicate needle, and rolled back his left shirt-cuff. For some little time his eyes rested thoughtfully upon the sinewy forearm and wrist all dotted and scarred with innumerable puncture-marks. Finally he thrust the sharp point home, pressed down the tiny piston, and sank back into the velvet-lined armchair with a long sigh of satisfaction."

Nice work, Sherlock, now put aside your cocaine and tell me: was it the Colonel Mustard in the living room with the candlestick holder?

I particularly liked this part, and its definition of an alcoholic:

We used to think we knew what cocaine meant - it meant a bad, dangerous habit, a short-circuit to pleasure that was indulged in by those on a fast track to ruin. Unless, of course, you indulged in it yourself, in which case you were able to keep your sordid little habit under control and besides, it wasn't sordid, on the venerable principle that an alcoholic is someone you don't like who drinks as much as you. It has, alone among the pharmacopoeia, the property of turning its users into hypocrites.

Indeed, and as of half an hour ago I was still nursing a hangover. Yes, that's right, 5pm!

Nicholas Lizard is certainly right to claim that a more mature, pragmatic approach to drug use would take us several large steps in the right direction: "many fewer people are going to jump in fright when the government or the tabloids go 'boo' at them." Too bloody right, mate, we've got more important things to worry about, like who is or isn't speeding through South Canterbury as we speak. Finally, it's interesting to hear of someone "coming clean" and eliciting little reaction other than perhaps a telling off from his mother:

Daily Telegraph journalist Sam Leith presented his readers with a list of the drugs he himself had tried: "speed, dope, acid, ecstasy, MDMA, ketamine, amyl nitrate, cocaine, nitrous oxide, magic mushrooms, temazepam, Valium, Salvia divinorum and khat". This was the roster of the "average, middle-class drug tourist", and if Leith got into any trouble for it with any authorities apart from his mother I have yet to hear of it. It used to be said by the Persians that there were four cushions on the divan of pleasure: coffee, wine, opium and tobacco. It would appear now that there are at least 18.

Yes, well, it will be a while before I dabble in the delights of alcohol again. On the other hand, tomorrow is Friday.