hile the national economy nosedives in and out of the red, it's no surprise that people everywhere are beginning to squirm.

Inundated by debt, underwater mortgages and a cutthroat job market, we've become less certain of our futures and more pressured and stressed to fight just to stay afloat. And for most, it's a reality we'd rather forget.

So we watch television, spend beyond our means, eat our way to the grave, smoke, drink, use, pray and do nearly anything under the moon to help down the bitter pill. Very few in our culture aren't psychologically reinforced by some sort of crutch.

We have become a nation of addicts hungry for instant gratification and without the self-discipline to know when to stop.

The recent outbreak in consumption of bath salts shows just how far some can take it.

Risking death and insanity for a new high, people snort, smoke and inject the powder colloquially marketed with names like White Lightning, Ivory Wave, Stardust and Cloud Nine.

However, the effects aren't as innocent and whimsical as put off.

A Pennsylvania man reportedly broke into a monastery and stabbed a priest while high on the chemical compound methylenedioxypyrovalerone. Many others report battling demons and other imaginary foes.

The violent hallucinations, psychosis and rage associated with MDPV have drawn attention from legislators across the nation.

Florida took action to ban the drug earlier this year after a woman high on MDPV tried to decapitate her grandmother with a machete. Now, at least 28 states prohibit the substance.

But MDPV is just one of many designer drugs in circulation and easy to obtain. Throughout poverty-stricken Russia, addiction to the homemade opioid concoction krokodil, or "crocodile," has in some parts become as prevalent as heroin.

At a fragment of the cost, junkies perform a series of chemical reactions, mixing over-the-counter codeine headache pills with ingredients including paint thinner, gasoline and red phosphorus to produce desomorphine, a synthetic opiate far more powerful than heroin.

The drug takes its name from the scaly, green complexion its poisonous components leave around the injection sight. In time, addicts' flesh may turn gray and fall off or require amputation. Victims of the drug literally rot to death.

Once addicted, regular users live for only a few more years. Even if they beat the overwhelming odds and come clean, the physical and cognitive damage done is largely irreparable.

While fully aware of the epidemic, Russian officials can do little to counter the drug's advances. The common household ingredients used to produce it would not likely be banned, nor the codeine-based pills used by a majority of non-addicts.

In this way, designer drugs like krokodil have the greatest potential for destruction. They mirror effects of common drugs and are not prohibited by any legal statute.

They are often the most accessible, most addictive, least costly and least researched substances we can consume, and often the most difficult to do away with.

Could we ban neurologically dangerous whipped cream chargers because people are huffing the nitrogen to get high? Not likely.

Computer duster, solvents and even nutmeg can be abused too, and the regulation and monitoring of certain purchases allows for too many loop holes to be considered wholly effective.

The duality of countless everyday products presents the same catch 22 and inevitable systematic impasse.  And even if they're removed from the shelves, a slurry of other designer drugs skirting the legal divide will eventually flow in.

The truth is, so long as addiction remains profitable and society intent on dissociation from reality, there's no real controlling or regulating of it.

Addressing the social ills that have bred our obsession and compulsion for drugs, alcohol and the like seems to be the only true method for prevention and recovery.

But while economic crises remain in the limelight, let's not hold our breath.