In a strange twist to last week's big meth bust in Northland one commentator ruminated on that popular theme, the decriminalisation of all good-times drugs.
I call them good-time drugs because people use them to make their lives seem more exciting and themselves more interesting - a compelling reason why they should stay banned. We shouldn't encourage delusion.
Few things are more tedious than a droning drunk. I should know because I've been one, and been cornered by many. Likewise, a drugged-out good-timer feeling like they're the centre of the universe makes for dull company. I've known a few of those, too.
The argument that the drug problem would be solved overnight by making it legal is one I agreed with ages ago, when everyone I knew seemed to be out of it every chance they got, in the first flush of LSD and cannabis use. What seemed glamorous then looks, in hindsight, to have stopped many of those people in their tracks, reliving the glorious groundhog days before their hair and teeth fell out, before a new set of knees became a more alluring prospect than listening to old Jimi Hendrix CDs. They've become could-have-beens who weren't, and I blame drugs for that. They were a substitute for real experience, discouraged achievement, and we're still at it, research tells us; the over-55s smoke dope more often than any other age group. Growing up in the aftermath of World War II we were reluctant to get serious, seeing where that had led the world, I guess.
I no longer think that legalising good-time drugs makes sense, not when drugs that can cure cancers or ease suffering have to jump through so many hoops before they're deemed to be safe. If the state is going to get involved in drugs it has a responsibility to be that thorough, and drugs people take for fun or to feel fabulous are unlikely to ever pass any safety tests, not if they deliver the intense impact users seem to crave.