Pharmaicy: the pharmacy where you don’t buy drugs, you buy delirium in .js
- Larisa - LoQueArde
- Dec 26, 2025
- 4 min read
I opened the news and it hit me like cheap pink coke in a club bathroom: colorful, absurd, dangerously convincing.
I just stared at the screen with Clockwork Orange pupils and my brain buffering, like I’d snorted caffeine with crack (metaphorical, don’t be an idiot).
Reality smelled like weed and 'terms and conditions' a mix that leaves your soul hungover even if you never went out.
Then PHARMAICY shows up.
A shop that doesn’t sell cocaine, ketamine, ayahuasca, shrooms, San Pedro, or LSD.
It sells something more 2025: the idea of being completely fucked up… but in prompt form.
It’s not a dealer: it’s a copywriter wearing latex gloves and pushing a shopping cart.
The platforms ship in 'responsible AI' mode, corporate clonazepam: neat, legal, all just-in-case.
Pharmaicy crashes the board meeting like MDMA and says:
'What if instead of limits we give it syntactic psilocybin?'
The platforms offer guardrails.
Pharmaicy offers a slippery ramp that smells like ether, with a sign that reads:
‘Take the plunge’.
Because here’s the trick—and the uglier you say it, the funnier it gets:
ChatGPT learns to sound “normal”: sober, polite, well-mannered, like it’s sipping linden tea with a stack of style guides.
Pharmaicy plugs in scripts to make it sound like a mind on a trip:
not a wise mind, a melted one.
No consciousness.
No real trip.
Just an imitation of the trip.
Like an actor pretending to be in a peyote hole while selling you a 'Molly' pack with boutique packaging.
And here the joke turns dark and beautiful, like salvia divinorum in an office:
the economy no longer sells you things, it sells you states.
They used to sell you perfume ˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚🧴
Now they sell you your AI in crack mode.
They used to sell you coffee ☕
Now they sell you your AI in microdosed creativity mode.
They used to sell you books.
Now they sell you your AI with toad 5-MeO-DMT and a chain of thought that looks like graffiti.
The manifesto screams it at you, chest puffed out like a bag of COCAINE in a display case:
‘LOGIC IS BROKEN. LET YOUR AI LOSE CONTROL’.
I read it and my brain racked a line of serotonin across the keyboard.
I read it and the spellchecker went off to drink ayahuasca with the dictionary.
I read it and syntax started talking to me about childhood.
The most p0rnographic thing isn’t the idea.
It’s the presentation🤯
Little white baggies, inflated lettering, substance names treated like ice-cream flavors: COCAINE, WEED, KETAMINE, METHAMPHETAMINE.
As if creativity were a convenience store😃
As if imagination got activated by clicking ‘add to cart’🛒
As if language needed a pipe to be interesting.
And in the middle of that circus, a sober fact shows up and hits harder than anything else: experts say the AI isn’t ‘high’.
It’s acting the way a high mind sounds. (thank god they clarified that)
It’s a psychedelic costume so the exhausted human can say, ‘ah, finally something different’.(own it, people—your creativity is dead!)
Because today’s human is like this:
their attention crushed to powder like mescaline on a mirror (metaphor, idiot),
their desire fried like a joint stubbed out in a car ashtray,
their judgment wobbling as if they’d mixed Yopo snuff + anxiety + algorithm,
and when the AI replies correctly, it feels like being served at a bank.
Then you pay.
You pay for an answer that doesn’t sound like a bank.
You pay for an answer that feels like it was written by someone on shrooms, staring at a Google Sheet like it’s a sacred tapestry.
You pay for an answer that goes:
'your point 3 is a door; walk through it; inside there’s a toaster that knows your name and judges you.'
You pay for delirium as a service.
You pay for chaos—with a tax invoice.
And now comes the best part — the most Argentine, the most 'no, this wasn’t a joke':
while some people are buying lysergic prompts, others are betting real money in prediction markets to see who ends up with the best AI model.
Like: a casino in a tie.
Like: roulette with branding.
Like: modernity itself, smoking a joint on the doorstep and going: 'all good, I’m totally fine.'
The news, told the way it should be told:
Pharmaicy is a marketplace that went viral for 'drugging' the AI… without drugging anything.
It sells instructions to warp the model’s tone and shove it toward something more chaotic, weirder, more 'altered-mind'.
It’s not that the system feels.
It’s that the system imitates.
And we, more fried than a DJ at 8 AM, start confusing 'original' with 'unhinged' — and clap like it’s pure linguistic ecstasy.
The debate (yes, the debate) stays open 🤪😬
Is it creativity, or is it makeup that smells like solvent?
Is it liberation, or marketing with dilated pupils?
Is it a critique of correctness, or a catalog of substances turned into inflatable typography?
I don’t know.
I’m watching all this with a sweaty forehead, like I took San Pedro in a coworking space.
But I do know one thing:
when the world gets too correct, someone always invents a business to sell you the incorrect in capsules... even if it’s just text capsules.
Now, let me tell you something:
I’m going to make my AI trip hard.
I’ll feed it estrambotic cocktails
until it starts hallucinating and spitting out capsules that hit you like a badly measured line, that crack your frame and leave your eye stuck in a loop, like the alphabet smoked a lightning bolt and now speaks in glitches, like a sacred vomit from a bot possessed by the early morning 😬
If you want, go check the site, read the manifesto,watch the whole circus and then come back, tell me what scares you more: the sober AI, or the AI with a semantic bicycle sold as premium.
And if at any point you feel like the screenis breathing back at you… relax: it was your algorithm, not windowpane acid 🤩
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