Nothing thaws intergenerational relations like some well-placed THC.
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I get a lot of weird press releases. I’ve been hearing quite a bit from a company specializing in products for doomsday preppers lately. For a while around Halloween, I was getting daily missives suggesting stripping down and getting body painted with a superhero theme. But the winner may be today’s instructions on how to have “The Best Danksgiving.”
If the name alone doesn’t get your mind going, let me explain. This email essentially comprises instructions on how to spike Grandma’s mashed potatoes to calm down her political diatribes. My favorite sentence is the very first, which explains that “The holidays can be stressful but that doesn’t mean you have to wait for your food coma to avoid your family-inducing anxiety.” I don’t know about you, but the last thing I want induced is my family. Uh, yeah.
The first product is called Mondo, an “edible cannabis dust,” which the email suggests users “sprinkle into stuffing, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie or any other Thanksgiving dish.” The jar contains 200 milligrams of cannabis and comes with a tiny spoon that allows you to dose yourself in 5 mg increments until you’ve calmed yourself down after your teen cousin has told you that the new one is the best Taylor Swift album ever. Or just dump the whole thing in the gravy and watch the fireworks, or rather, long naps that can’t be blamed on the tryptophan.
If secretly drugging your family isn’t the plan, there are other options. Good Fortune pre-roll packs “come with matches, a 24-karat gold joint and truism card.” Fancy. That’s if you’re straight. If you’re gay, the same company prefers to push you toward the insultingly named Lonely’s, a “pre-roll brand targeted to the LGBTQ+ community.” There are also joints packaged in reusable cork which the release suggests sharing with your “cool uncle,” and a cannabis delivery subscription service to “make it a family affair.”
Of course, none of this will be happening in Texas anytime soon. But if you’re spending the holidays in, say, Washington or Oregon, maybe you should be spiking the green bean casserole. Or not.
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