The human pursuit of elevating one's state of mind has been in existence since humans have had minds to elevate. Whatever part of the brain that has the ability to process stimuli differently from that of more primitive animals also has the tendency to become dissatisfied with said stimuli in its unaltered state. As a result, we turn to substances like alcohol or marijuana in order to feel happier or more alive. I'm not judging these people, necessarily. I have a passion for vodka that is rivaled only by those who say "and I'm an alcoholic" after giving their names, and I admit fully that nothing makes me quite so content with my life as a dose of Percocet, but I tend to draw the line and more illicit substances (cocaine and heroin) don't interest me in the slightest.
Others are unsatisfied with the carnival freakshow of consumable delights available in the drug world, and they get creative. They crush up some Sudafed, mix it with some bleach, cook it up on a stove, and smoke the residue. The result? Methamphetamine, of course. Crack open an aerosol can, a tube of rubber cement, or remove the cap from a Sharpie and you can even get a little high off of that. The possibilities are endless.
But let's get down to the nitty gritty. And folks, it doesn't get much grittier than this. A good friend of mine who is privy to information from the law enforcement community passed along something he got from an intelligence bulletin the other day about the latest thing the kids are cooking up to get high. In fact, it's something that each and every one of us has easy access to. I bet you had no idea that your own body was its own walking and talking drug lab.
What am I talking about? Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce you to Jenkem, otherwise known as "Butthash."
Yes, that's right. Butt. Hash. This is no joke.
Butthash is made by combining fecal matter and urine in a bottle, placing a balloon over the opening, allowing proper time for fermentation, and finally huffing the collected gases. What results is apparently a feeling of nearly immediate euphoria (or "ewwwphoria," as the case may be) followed by a period of intense hallucinations.
There are so many things I can say about this revelation. In fact, I've known about this little gem of information for a few days now and have held back on writing about it because I was experiencing the writer's equivalent of "kid in a candy store" syndrome.
Do I talk about the repercussions of attempting to regulate the use of Butthash? Sure, we can limit sales on decongestants in order to stimy the production of meth. We can make aerosol cans that can't don't double as free whippits for broke, bored teenagers. But when it comes to Butthash, what are we going to do? Limit the amount of fiber you can purchase to products containing no more than 5 grams? Will Metameucil be the next thing to hit the black market? Will we make it illegal to eliminate our waste into anything other than government-approved containers that must be immediately shipped off to clandestine processing facilities?
Also, what does the existence of Butthash say about our society and how we've handled our drug problem? Wouldn't things be simpler if we just went ahead and made pot legal? For crying out loud, if you want to get high, wouldn't it just be a hell of a lot less disgusting and more dignified to walk down to the 7-11 and pick up a pack of Mary Janes instead of shitting and pissing into a beaker and waiting a few hours to inhale the fetid stench?
Regardless, I don't see the problem of Butthash going away anytime soon. In fact, I can see this cutting into the sales of the friendly neighborhood drug lords. How could it not when someone's next high could be no farther away than a box of Triscuits and a slammer of Mountain Dew?
Either way, the problem of Butthash is very real and imminent.
I shit you not.