The thing about drugs is that they’re sometimes tragic, but often fun. Or if not fun, just cool and for anyone who likes being liked, that’s enough. The DEA doesn’t understand cool or fun or being liked and this is why they’re useless. They think arresting people will make drugs go away but this isn’t true. Not that they seem to have noticed. In fact, they’ve got a visitor’s museum at their Washington DC headquarters that claims they’re great because they arrest lots and lots of people. So I went along and learned about how they arrest people, the types of people they arrest and all the people they want to arrest soon. In short, I learned what’s wrong with them.
They’re evil. That’s the first thing I thought when I saw the building. It’s the black, evil windows that do it. All jerks grow up dreaming of black, evil windows. It’s why there’s a market for Hummers.
After being screened for bombs at the entrance I came face to face with this: A display of all the different types of people who take drugs, as depicted by cut-out caricatures inspired by the Village People. This lets you know drugs are everywhere, even amongst white people.
After you’ve been surprised for a while you lift a flap to reveal some hard questions, or rather the same hard question over and over.
So how would you feel if a (insert guy) was abusing drugs? Imagine a pilot on drugs? A construction worker?
I kind of lost the thread here. Do dogs take drugs? I don’t know if they do. If dogs take drugs I want to watch. Is it cute?
After that I wandered on and found a sort of drug-dens-through-the-ages installation. I’d always thought that drug dens were basically abandoned houses but apparently I’m wrong. Apparently they’re a fashion thing.
Is this a Waterworld themed gay bar? Because if I was into crack and I saw this door I probably wouldn’t bother. This door is so crack that it actually isn’t. Like the museum curator learned everything about drugs from their mum and then lived under a rock on the moon. Why else would they think people do crack in post-apocalyptic bank vaults with their dogs.
And I guess this is the latest in drug den style but really, who cares? Are these people still getting excited over weed clinics? It’s like my grandad goes on about sex shops, which is about right because the whole place has a my-grandad feel about it. That’s probably why they’ve got some photos of his golf buddies frowning.
Meet Henry. He likes short hair, neat desks and predator animals. His house is full of porcelain eagles and paintings of sharks eating dolphins. His wife recently admitted she hates the shark paintings and he told her it’s because all women are like dolphins. She cried and he watched her, wondering what dolphin tastes like.
And this is Rob. Rob is dead now but he lives inside computers like a ghost in the machine. He’s having sex with your fingers right now. He knows you like it because you’re smiling. Wait, don’t move. He’s nearly finished.
I was beginning to understand. The DEA has spent the past forty years floundering because they employ unlikable people. If someone is to have any hope of changing my mind, I need to like them or at least trust them. It’s very clear from the museum that the DEA are cunts who have a hyper-sensationalised view of culture. Like a bunch of divorce lawyers offering dating advice.
No display encapsulated this issue like the undercover costume display. What does subculture look like to a law-enforcement sadist?
It looks like this. Because nothing says “rave” like a Fox Racing hat and a futuristic Italian shirt.
If you were a goblin in the 70s, you wore these. If you were a DEA agent in the 70s you wore these and people thought there was something wrong with you. Then (according to the sign) you “put them all away” and people said “ah, he was a goblin.”
On the other hand this jacket is incredible. Imagine how much attention you’d get in this. That’d be useful when you’re trying not to be noticed.
Suddenly a security guy came and asked if it was my girlfriend outside. I nodded and said she didn’t want to come in because she was… um, sick. I didn’t want to admit she was hungover in case he arrested us. “Well sir, I’d go check on her. She’s laying down and that’s a bad look for us.”
I passed the gift shop on the way out and thought I’d get her a little something to cheer her up.
I thought about a nice DEA duck.
But then I saw these guys. You know, it’d be real easy for DEA soft toys to come across as creepy and confusing, but somehow they’re just right.
But in the end I didn’t get her anything. I went outside and she asked me why I’d left her alone with all these weirdos staring out at her. “It’s like they’ve never seen a girl before.”
“Maybe they haven’t.” I replied. Judging from their museum, I don’t think they get out much.
Follow Julian on Twitter: @MorgansJulian
For more fun with the DEA: