Jim Hopkins: Dr Hash's wonders of mystic herbal revelation

Has Dr. Don Brash had a 'road to Hashmascus' experience? Photo / Thinkstock

The great disadvantage of a Presbyterian upbringing is that those who've had one are invariably left with the lifelong suspicion that they're missing out on something wildly exciting and forbidden.

Which, in truth, they have. It's all very well cleaving to the path of virtue while those of us less decorously bred merrily lead ourselves into temptation with neither pang nor qualm, but there is a problem with virtue. Virtue is vanilla. It's bland. It's boring. Most of us would rather be chased than chaste.

While being virtuous is, without doubt, the perfect audition for the life hereafter, the fact you've never walked on the wild side or tried any of that hot, sweaty, sinful, naughty, furtive, enjoyable, immoral stuff before you get there makes the journey pretty dreary.

This may explain why the former Presbyterian and now leader of the Dak Party, Dr Hash, has, somewhat unexpectedly, come out swinging, so to speak, for the wonders of mystic herbal revelation. "If we're broke, let's toke," is the Doc's new mantra. And we mustn't rush to judgment or condemn too harshly his sudden rush of hedonism. Hey, at least he's had a road to Hashmascus experience. It may have taken a while but he has tapped into high finance. He's the Nandor Tacnos of money, man, and better light than never, say all us groovy dudes.

We need to chill. If Dr Hash has come upon his "dawning of the Age of Actquarius" (as the Hair hit has it) a tad later in life than many of his hydroponic contemporaries there are obvious reasons why it should be thus. When you're, like, Governor of the whole Reserve Bank, man, Captain Cash, king of suitsville, you can't spend all day sitting cross legged on a flokati rug in your incense-drenched office, staring at a print-out of the OCR with a Marley-sized spliff in your hand saying, "Hey, can you dig it? 5 basis points. Total stoner, man!"

This is not what we expect from our monetary mandarins, more's the pity. They're required to be pillars of rectitude, cautious, circumspect, steeped in prudence; in a word, Presbyterian. Social pressure obliges them to put inflation before inhalation. They can't just kick out the jams, man. They've got to be uneasy riders. Born to be Mild is the economist's song. So, when Dr Hash was in the house he had to be, like, mega-straight, oozing gravitas, sweating restraint. Cos da Bank don't boogie, dig?

But perhaps it should. Perhaps all the economists should. Perhaps Dr Hash is blazing a brave new trail and challenging all of us lechers, layabouts, lounge lizards and libertines to lighten up a bit and encourage the economists to light up a bit as well. Heaven knows, they need to. All they get is bad news. If it's not Greece, it's Spain, if it's not Spain it's Portugal, if it's not Portugal it's the US dollar and if it's not the US dollar then it's the whole ball of wax, a great steaming midden of financial calamity hurtling down the turnpike towards our itsy-bitsy basket of quivering currencies.

This is not good. Watching the imminent implosion of pretty much everything must play havoc with the brain chemicals. It's gotta mess with your head, man, like, totally! So perhaps it is time for the hash to hit the fan. Perhaps we should lower our expectations and let the economists have a Big Chill Out. "If we're heading for the reefs, just reach for a reefer," is the message we should be sending.

If the world's going up in smoke, so should we - and so should the money men. Turn on, tune in, cash up. That's the new vibe. Whatever gets you through the plight. Let's face it, there's only so many bail-outs you can take before reaching for a bong. Or going bonkers. And the Doc's saying, "No!" He's saying, since we've made a hash of things, we should make a thing of hash. And he's right. Of course he is. Breathes there a lotus eater among us who dares gainsay it? No, there's not. We're up for it, baby. If we're going to hell in a handcart, then we might as well go in a purple haze, yeah!

Because no economist in their right mind wants to be. Not now. Not with the world the way it is. A right man is the last thing you need. The message for Bollard's boys (and girls) is clear. "Just get a little bent, okay?" Rock the joint for a change, pack up all your cares and woe, there you go, smokin' blow. Bye, bye, bankrupts.

The Doc's on to it, no question. The sooner all our monetary mandarins start sharing a joint and saying, "Greece, love and waterbeds," the better things will feel. "Oh, wow, man! Look at that recession. It's s-o-o-o-o-o-o cool!"