Against Psychedelics

I can already hear your gears turning, dear reader: “Wait, you’re pro-booze, pro-cannabis but anti-psychedelics? At least be consistent, you human paraquat!” And look, I get it. But hear me out.

I’m not anti-psychedelics; I’m anti-hype. And right now, the psychedelic hype train makes me want to gouge out my eyes. I’m a libertine when it comes to recreational drugs—they’re fun, they open up new ways of seeing the world, they remind us that other realities exist, and they can even bring us closer to our friends. Sign me up!

But please don’t insult my intelligence by telling me this stuff will solve all my problems. Don’t promise me oceanic boundlessness—yes, an actual scientific term—when what you mean is that it will deliver moments where you think you’ve unlocked some deep mysteries that have been holding you back, only to realize later it was just some half-baked epiphany that makes little sense when you’re not tripping balls.

Maybe I should back up a minute and describe what, exactly, …