- Brandon Soderberg
- On Scooby Snacks, occupy your mouth with eating rather than talking.
You would be forgiven at this point for not wanting to care. Every day, especially lately, makes it very hard to reconcile waking up, walking around and checking off errands and obligations, doing you on a daily basis, and also getting outside your head and understanding current events (an incomprehensibly terrible leader of the “free” world, mass white supremacist shootings, neoliberal coups, late capitalism’s last gasp, along with whatever tragedy’s playing out among your friends, family and neighbors), a 24-hour endless scroll of a report on the void — “Oh hmm... how’s the void doing now, don’t think I’ve checked in on it in a couple of hours!”
Folks, note that I said you’d be forgiven for not wanting to care — actually not caring is not exactly forgivable. If you want to flirt with apathy though, Scooby Snacks is a great strain to practice avoiding the void for a little while. A mix of Platinum Girl Scout Cookies (which is like GSC, just extra) and Face Off OG (a muscular, identity-crumbling strain that, depending on your friend group, either makes Nicolas Cage jokes or Grateful Dead “Steal Your Face” jokes on this stuff), Scooby Snacks makes you get stupid fast and makes you very hungry. While the physical act of eating is really enjoyable, tactile (this presumably is why this strain is called Scooby Snacks, because it makes you hungry like stoner cartoon icon Shaggy and his dog), so much else about this strain is mitigated.
Its scent and taste are dulled, smell wit h a frame around it: fruit but not a citrus fruit, a plum or a pear, odorless gel deodorant. And when the stuff is really burning, peppercorn or clove pops up, and it’s a light smoke — you will have a hard time smoking enough to cough. You’ll feel sleepy and compromised, like a warm, hard wind’s blowing against you, pushing you back, preventing you from moving too fast, and the world skips a little, a strobed, shaking sort of slow-motion, like the moment on some cheesy television show where someone’s going to be shot or something and someone yells, “nooooooo,” all chopped-and-screwed.
Our rubric for each strain focuses on issues related to existential dread and general anxiety, but Scooby Snacks needs some kind of “annoyed with other people” category because the break from caring this strain offers leaves you annoyed in a bratty, Buddhist way: Why would you care so much about anything and why would you be so gauche as to utter it aloud, I kept thinking. Whatever someone said to me and whatever I had in my head seemed like it could be better handled by not talking, not dropping more words and ideas out there but by going inward, thinking, categorizing. A terrible, necessary break from being a person for a few hours and a reminder that dollar store enlightenment is not a way to always be.