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DOS & DON'TS
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NEW FRONTIERS OF SOBRIETYBeing Anti-High Feels Anti-GoodPublished August, 2009
BY HAMILTON MORRIS Newton’s third law of motion states that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. In particle physics we learn that for all matter there can be antimatter of opposite charge. But what about drugs? Is there an anti-weed, an anti-heroin, or an anti-beer? Pharmacologically speaking, the answer is yes. Scientists can identify regions of the brain stimulated by a given drug and then create an anti-drug with the opposite mechanism of action. Substances that do the opposite of common recreational drugs are useful in overdoses but rarely become recreational drugs in their own right for the simple reason that they make you feel totally and completely miserable. I decided to systematically test three of the most powerful anti-highs over the course of one week. Here are my results: 
ANTI-WEED: RIMONABANT DOSE: 60 MG Pharmaceutical researchers have observed that smoking weed gives people the munchies, so logically it follows that deactivating the receptors in the brain responsible for getting high would give you anti-munchies. They tested a drug with just such an action and found that it was incredibly effective. The drug was approved in Europe and appeared to be one of the best weight-loss drugs in history. Rimonabant is inexpensive, effective, and totally nonaddictive. Unfortunately, in addition to giving users anti-munchies it was found to have a prominent side effect called anti-happiness, aka suicidal depression. In the months following the drug’s clinical trials, there were over 70 patients displaying signs of suicidality, two completed suicides, a host of seizures, precipitated multiple sclerosis, domestic abuse, and a man who strangled his daughter. When you smoke weed, it stimulates the parts of your brain called cannabinoid receptors. It may seem obvious, but our brain has these receptors for reasons other than getting stoned. Our cannabinoid receptors have an array of crucial regulatory functions in the unstoned brain. We depend on a cocktail of natural weedlike chemicals called endocannabinoids to regulate inflammation, appetite, and emotional stability. When you take rimonabant, not only is it impossible for you to get stoned on weed, it’s also impossible for your body to utilize its natural endocannabinoids. I have heard more than one stoner speculate about a future where the government requires rimonabant implants at birth to prevent the population from “expanding their minds.” Unlikely, but one must wonder what it would feel like to live in such a world! Since normal drugs are generally taken socially at night, I decide to do my anti-high experiments first thing in the morning and alone. But I’m curious about how my friend Sam would respond to rimonabant so I persuade him to try it with me. Sam has smoked weed all day, every day, for the last five years. When I suggest he take a pill that would make it impossible for him to get high for at least 24 hours, he is not too keen on the idea. But after asking about 50 or 60 times and offering to buy him weed in return, he cautiously accepts my offer. Both Sam and I take a whopping dose of rimonabant three times higher than the maximum dose used for weight loss. After swallowing the pills, Sam goes out to meet his weed dealer in Manhattan. A half hour later, he texts me to say he’s having an attack of “explosive diarrhea.” I’m also feeling the onset as a subtle but persistent anxiety. Sam comes back to my apartment and shakily loads a pipe. He takes a deep hit, waits, and shakes his head, saying he feels “absolutely nothing.” We decide to go out and get some food at a Polish diner. Upon walking into the restaurant we realize that our waiter is an incredibly slow guy we’ve had in the past who never refills the small water glasses. Both of us tense up. I order an egg-white omelet and Sam interrupts me to say, “What are you talking about? You want the whole egg. Why would you just want the whites?” “I usually get egg whites. They’re good. Is there something wrong with that?” Sam turns to the waiter. “He wants the whole egg.” I look down and see that my hands are trembling. I remember reading studies that suggest rimonabant lowers the seizure threshold. I don’t mention this to Sam. My omelet arrives and I start to feel nauseated the moment I look at it. It’s made with sickeningly orange American cheese. I might actually vomit. Sam has a healthy appetite. In the past I have seen him eat a whole chicken down to the skeleton, but on rimonabant he picks at his omelet for a few minutes before loudly protesting, “If someone does not get this omelet away from me I’m going to vomit… I’m going to fucking vomit and then I’m going to die!” We leave the diner and anxiously walk down St. Mark’s. I stop inside a bong store and touch my fingers to the glass like a peasant outside a department store on Christmas. I have never felt so un-high in my life. I must admit that my thinking is unusually clear and I could see a lower dose of rimonabant being helpful when studying for a test—well, it could if it didn’t make me feel like I was about to simultaneously cry, puke, and have a seizure. The fact that this is a widely prescribed drug is unbelievable. The idea of taking this daily is insane. It would be less than a week before I killed someone. In the late afternoon I try smoking some weed. I take a deep hit, feel a transient sensation of threshold stonededness, and then whatever it was passes in less than five minutes. Sam is not willing to let the rimonabant win, and throughout the day he continuously attempts to get high, taking hit after hit after hit from an aluminum cigarette. Around midnight, I hear him take a deep toke, sigh, and scream, “Damn it!” See all articles by this contributor
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