The recent rise in popularity of synthetic designer drugs with unimaginative street names, such as ‘Bath Salts’ and ‘Kronic’ has seemed to coincide with a spate of horrific attacks on unsuspecting strangers by crazed lunatics with a common theme – the consumption or attempted consumption of human flesh. In one such incident, a man was shot dead by Miami police after he stripped buck-naked and ate the majority of a homeless mans’ face while growling like a dog. Had a good ol’ chomp, he did! Initially, media outlets linked ‘Bath Salts’ (a synthetic form of methamphetamine which is sold as a powder) to the attack, although toxicology reports later found this claim to be untrue.

Kronic was first brought to my attention by an exaggerated news-story on Seven (surprise!) covering to prolific use of the drug in the mining towns of Western Australia. Stoked (fully stoked, bra!) that they’d beaten the system, miners started smoking the drug on-the-job. This practice is probably not a good idea if you’re mincing around the Mixmaster in an Artisan cupcake store in Brunswick (More on Artisan cupcakes later… I haven’t even started on Artisan fucking cupcakes…) Imagine the potential repercussions when you’re driving 100 tonne dump trucks laden to the gills with iron ore in the confined spaces of a mine. Suffice to say, there were several serious accidents, several cases of erratic and aggressive behaviour and then a significant amount of money made when some clever scientists devised a way to accurately test for the substance. Case closed.

The spelling of Kronic also infuriates me. Misspelling words starting with C by substituting a K is one of the most imbecilic endeavours one could possibly hope to undertake. Comparable to burping the alphabet, it’s the sort of branding that flat-brim donning, white-bread eating, hot-dog loving, motocross riding, girlfriend-beating bogan douchebags are attracted to, like flies to the eternally bright lights of the bug zapper hanging loosely on the rusted-out hook above the entrance to their family home (caravan).

Anyway, back to the Bath Salts story – Aside from the hilarity of naming a drug that induces rage and psychosis after something that middle-aged women tip into their baths to relieve the solemn aches of menopause, the news article got me thinking; what if synthetic drugs are slowly turning the population of the world into the walking un-dead? Would they exist as George A. Romero imagined them in his movies? (slow but with an ability to form alliances and work together to end civilization), or would they be the run-and-gun style seen most recently in the Zack Snyder re-imagining of Romero’s cult classic, Dawn of the Dead? You’d think faster zombies would be more terrifying, but (on film at least), the slow, calculated shuffle of Romero’s creatures is patently more sinister.

To be honest, the types of people currently smoking/snorting/rectally-depositing these types of drugs are already doing a fairly good job of destroying civilisation as it is. Perhaps zombifying them will at least promote a sense of community amongst the survivors as we band together to defeat the un-dead scourge. After all, we are all so busy with our jobs and families these days that it’s easy to feel isolated, even in a big city…

/end communication