Tennessee police to drug users: don't flush your dope or you'll create "meth gators"

Originally published at: https://boingboing.net/2019/07/16/dope-moreau.html

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Methgator sounds like a movie title from the studio that brought us Sharknado.

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So, if you need to dispose of your drugs just give us a call and we will make sure they are disposed of in the proper way."

Dudes on meth.

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Their first plan was to make a series about a meth-addicted dog called “Barking Bad”, but it didn’t screen well with test audiences.

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Gator Faces of Meth

Before:

After:

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I’m sure Admiral Ackbar would have a word or three to say about the police offering to help drug addicts dispose of their contraband substances.

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Yes, I’m sure all those people looking to flush their drugs will simply hand them over to the police for proper disposal. Because a drug-user’s top priority is ensuring the safety of local wildlife. And, handing evidence of your guilt to the cops is a great idea.

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They’ve had enough methed up animals

This is so methed up.

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Besides if you flush, we don’t have evidence. But think of the gators.

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If you don’t want people to flush their drugs…decriminalize them. Pretty simple. Pick your priority.

Also, stop having dramatic moments in movies and TV where when people want to go clean, they dump their booze down the sink and flush their drugs.

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Agree. The proper way to “go clean” is to do all your drugs/booze in one last, big blowout. That way you don’t screw up the sewers/wildlife.

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I am reminded of the “tinctures” in Bruce Sterling’s novel Holy Fire (1996) – home chemistry sets that make more or less everything, from hot cocoa to pheromones. This scene describes a bad batch flushed down the toilet and the police response this crime provokes:

“We overcooked the batch,” Antonio said. “We have to flush and start over.”

“What do you mean, flush?” Brett said tensely.

Antonio gestured at the bathroom door.

Brett sat up in the hammock, sending it swaying sickeningly. “Look, you can’t flush a bad tincture down the commode! Are you crazy? You have to decompose a bad tincture inside the set. Man, they’ve got monitors in the sewer system! You can’t just spew some bad chemical process into a city sewer. It might be toxic or carcinogenic! That makes environmental monitors go crazy!”

“We flushed bad batches before,” Antonio said patiently. “We do it all the time.”

“A bad lacrimogen run?”

“No, entheogens. But no problem.”

“You are an irresponsible sociopath with no consideration for innocent people,” Brett said mordantly, bitterly, and with complete accuracy.

There was a sudden violent burst from the bathroom. A blast of explosive compression. The door flew open and banged the wall hard enough to break a hinge.

Everyone stared in amazement. There were gurglings, then a sudden violent burst. Sewage jetted obliquely from the toilet and splattered the ceiling. Then rusty bolts snapped and the commode itself jumped from its concrete moorings and tumbled into the cellar.

A gleaming machine with a hundred thrashing legs came convulsing from the sewer. It was as narrow as a drainpipe and its thick metal head was a sewage-stained mass of bristles and chemical sensors. It grabbed at the doorframe with thick bristle-footed feet, and its hindquarters gouted spastic jets of white chemical foam.

It arched its plated sinuous back and howled like a banshee.

“Don’t run, don’t run,” Kurt shouted, “they punish you more if you run,” but of course everyone ran. They all leapt to their feet and scrambled up the stairs and out the door like a pack of panicked baboons.

Maya ran as well, dashing out into the damp and chilly Roman street. Then she turned and ran back into the squat.

She snatched up her backpack. The sewer guardian was sitting half-buried in an enormous wad of foaming sealant. It turned at her, aimed camera eyes at her, lifted two flanges on its neck, and began flashing red alarm lights. It then said something very ominous in Italiano. Maya turned and fled.

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I just want to say, given our current socio-political climate…is the very notion of a “meth gator” really the zaniest thing you’ve heard in the last 24 hours?

At this point…I welcome our meth-gator overlords.

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Well, unless it’s a drug/booze fueled rampage that destroys both sewers and wildlife. :wink:

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Anyone want to do the math on dilution?

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Roger That!

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hey man, the last thing you want is homeopathic meth gators…

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If this is some Tennessee tourism bureau reverses psychology marketing, I’d go with CrackCrocks, has more zang…

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Because there’s nothing like a gentle reminder directed toward people who have already made enough bad decisions to have both meth that needs disposing, and cops banging at the door, in order to get them to do the right thing.

Thank you, timely PSA!

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