HIGH TIMES FOR MAKING A BUCK OFF THE WAR ON DRUGS

The start of the school year also means the latest issue of High
Times magazine includes a "Back to Campus" gift guide for college
students. Sure, there is the studying part. And then there is that
other 80 percent of the time.

The gift guide suggests such dorm-room essentials as a spray that's
guaranteed "to neutralize any odor." Or what about this rock-concert
item? It's a baseball cap with a hidden pocket "to keep your stash
intact in a stylish stealth manner."

You know that war on drugs? High-school kids have slightly decreased
their use of various stimulants.

But once they leave for those ivy-covered halls? P-a-a-a-r-t-y.
Especially with pot, which the Department of Justice says is
"epidemic" with 18- to 20-year-olds.

I happened to see the magazine when perusing the newsstand racks at
Barnes & Noble, as I walked past the titles about tropical retirement
havens that I find real interesting these days.

Then there it is: High Times, a blast from the past, paid monthly
circulation of 225,000, still going strong in its 27th year devoted
to marijuana. The typical High Times reader is a single young male
who, when watching TV, prefers "Comedy Central," MTV and, for some
reason, the Discovery Channel. Maybe those nature documentaries go
well when lighting up.

I buy the magazine, put it in a brown paper bag and bring it home.
It's the ads that fill the 118-page magazine that have caught my
interest.

They vividly show the other side of that war on drugs. However you
might feel about marijuana use, you have to give the advertisers
credit for that famous American talent for innovation.

I dial the phone number for a product called "The Urinator," only
$149.95, plus $16 for overnight shipping. "Comes with a free sample
of synthetic urine," the ad says.

A guy who tells me his name is Mike Smith answers. The Urinator is
basically a fluid bag that has an electronic heater controlled by a
computer chip. The bag fits inside a cloth pouch with Velcro on all
sides, so you can hide it inside your pants.

Let's say you're asked to take a urine test at that part-time
construction job. No problem! You have that pouch filled with fake
urine that's right at body temperature.

Mike tells me The Urinator isn't being sold to beat tests for illegal
drugs. No, no. It's to protect people from employers carrying out
"genetic profiling" that would show if an employee were predisposed
to cancer or other diseases.

Come on, Mike, I say. Your customers are trying to beat tests for
illegal drugs.

"Well, when you sell somebody a car, they take responsibility for not
going 55 in a 25-mile-an-hour zone," Mike says. "It's the same here."

Mike says his product really does work. But when I call Corp Drug
Testing in Seattle, I'm told they make sure - by watching you - that
the urine really is yours and not from a pouch. Plus, they point out,
if it's random testing, would you always be carrying The Urinator
inside your pants?

I call Comprehensive Toxicology Services in Tacoma, which does lab
work on drug tests. I ask about other products I've seen advertised
in High Times, such as "carbo drinks" that say they detoxify your
body in an hour.

The Tacoma lab faxes me the results of its tests on one such drink.
"This particular product has a very high carbohydrate content, which
may have a temporary diuretic effect that would help get a
borderline-positive drug level to drop below testing cutoff limits,"
says the report. "This product is only going to help people who are
casual users that know when they are going to be tested."

At the labs, they know about the High Times ads, and refine their
detection techniques in response. But then there is always some new
ad that says its product will beat the labs. Continuous innovation.
It's the American way.

I call up some other advertisers. Here is The Hidden Jungle in
Toronto, which sells marijuana seeds by mail. "American customers
welcome," says the ad. I ask just how the contraband is sent across
the border. I'm told to look on the firm's Web site, where I find a
note that says "we use many different and varying tactics in
shipping." It recommends recipients "acquire a P.O. Box."

I call up a phone number listed for Jamaica travel, and get voice
mail. For $650 a week, a couple is promised lodging, a guided
mountain tour and "Grade A Ganja." I identify myself on the voice
mail. I don't get a call back.

I call up Jeff Steinborn, a Seattle attorney whose clients have
gotten into trouble mostly because of marijuana. He runs a small ad
that includes his Web site, www.potbust.com. I ask him about college
kids and grass.

"I'm 58. I'm just not into youth culture," he says. Steinborn tells
me about his clients, "They're basically gentle, law-abiding
citizens. They are your neighbors who'd watch your house, feed your
cats while you're gone."

I keep looking through the ads. Here is another dorm room necessity:
Hanging wooden door beads for $25. "Turn any room into a hippy
haven!" says the ad.

Ah, boomer parents, visiting your kid at college and seeing those
beads on the doorway. What goes around, comes around, hmmm?