synthetic cannabinomimetics (I’m training myself to use that term, because these chemicals aren’t actually cannabinoids)
Actually most of them are – cannabinoids are simply drugs that bind to your cannabinoid receptors, they don't have to be structurally related to THC. In the same way methadone is a jolly good opioid but not an opiate.
The endogenous cannabinoids or endocannabinoids that your own body produces don't resemble THC at all, and clearly the same is true of many synthetic cannabinoids.
Most of these legal high drugs appear to mimic the effects of cannabis by binding to a cannabinoid receptor called CB1. So they are they are synthetic cannabinoid receptor agonists with cannabimimetic activity.
However, you’re not completely wrong to make a distinction between cannabinoids and cannabimimetics. Some cannabimimetic drugs don’t work by binding to CB1 and so can’t be called cannabinoids.
One called URB-754 apparently produces cannabimimetic activity by inhibiting the work of an enzyme that deactivates your body’s own endocannabinoids.
The term cannabimimetic seems more useful for law enforcement, as a catch-all phrase that saves legislating for every class of compounds.
Still, to me it actually sounds more sciency and leads to the impression that we have some deep understanding of their pharmacology.
It would seem that's often not the case, at least not until long after the drugs hit the market.
of course robyn malcolm is the sexiest woman on tv
jason gunn is unquestionably the funniest looking person on TV
the zoo is definitely a documentary
jim hickey is ...oh god.
relax. babies also...
sleep beatifically on your chest while you listen to
'a prairie home companion' for two hours.
light up when they see you in a way no one else ever will
and laugh uncontrollably at your silliest slapstick schtick
one thing you'll never be is bored. but meanwhile, find a copy
of momus' i hate his majesty the baby and indulge for a few months. opening verse:
Crooked smiles, twisted eyes and a toothless grin
I hate his majesty the baby
His bowels and bladder uncontrolled
Sitting astride a throne of nappies
As though his shit were made of gold
As though a cherub on a fountain
He suckles breasts as big as mountains
Then pisses freely on the women
Who so lovingly surround him