Lots of funny jokes popped into my head, but departed like butterflies: Our correspondent samples a fizzy drink laced with THC

Also: Looking back on the Big Lebowski more than a quarter of a century and news you can use.

THC fizzy drinks: What’s the buzz about?

The growing market in hemp and the quasi-legalization of marijuana has fomented various products packing THC, the psychoactive agent within weed. Canned, non-alcoholic drinks with THC are popping up like daisies.

AirMail’s Linda Wells recently tried her first can of a THC beverage. She drank half of it, and reports that “15 minutes later I felt a humming looseness in my body. Fifteen minutes after that, I was pretty sure that if I didn’t hold on tight, I’d slide off the couch. Was I shouting? I decided to clean the kitchen. I think it took me half an hour to wipe down the counters. But maybe it was three minutes.”

A shipment of Re9ulated THC drinks arrived at our door. The press release within declares:

“Brewed in the heart of Chicago by a crew of craft beer artisans, this low-calorie, plant-based, 5 mg per 16 oz can seltzer contains real fruit with no artificial flavors. Using only the purest Delta9 hemp extract, its main ingredient is natural THC found in marijuana, just sourced from hemp in a low-dose formulation to ensure a comfortable and social boost.”

Upon reading this pitch I thought, “This is a job for longtime AlcoholReviews.com freelancer Charles Westbrook! Charles graciously agreed to taste these samples and report back to Beverages, Books, and More. Here are his notes:

Raspberry Lemon: First sip: fruity but there’s an odd flavor. Odd the same way Red Bull tastes odd, but not so odd that it made me stop drinking it. I gulped half the 16-ounce can in 15 minutes, by which time I began feeling relaxed. Ten minutes later the rest of the can was gone and I began to space out. The television was showing me people who lived in a remote Alaskan village. I felt intense appreciation for the trees and waterways and their way of life. Then I remembered I needed to take the garbage out. I coached myself to put on my shoes after briefly(?) debating what pair of shoes to wear. Intense hunger struck, and I ate an enormous bowl of Raisin Bran cereal. My tongue felt thick and a little dry.

Then I remembered the trash, which I carried out of the house. The crisp autumn air—I felt it acutely. I dumped the bag in the can after mumbling to myself about something. Then I looked at the night sky—until I started to topple over. Suddenly worrying about my ability to walk the 30 feet back to the front door, I stepped with great caution—pressing my feet into the ground to ensure stability. I found my way back to the couch, turned off the TV since it no longer made any sense to me, and tried to read a book. I kept getting confused and having to reread paragraphs. I went to bed and slept long and deeply, and arose with a peaceful feeling but not the least bit hungover. Astonishing, seeing as how zonked I was!

Blueberry Clementine: This version of Re9ulated did not have that odd flavor. It went down very easily—the can was empty in 20 minutes. I began taking a very intense interest in the playoff baseball game on the television. I found myself gripping a pillow during a lengthy battle between a pitcher on one team and a batter. (Which was the Guardian and which was the Yankee I do not know.) Again, my mouth felt odd and I went to the refrigerator, where I found three slices of four(?)-day-old pizza, which I ate. I drank a glass of water. The weird mouthfeel continued. I thought about sipping some olive oil, but I shrugged it off and floated back to the couch.

Lots of funny jokes popped into my head, but departed like butterflies—flit, flit away. I am thankful I was alone this night and the previous one: I felt incapable of speaking. I mumbled to myself but could not determine how loud I was speaking. Then I giggled as I imagined hosting a cocktail party full of people high on Re9ulated—everyone is mumbling, nobody can understand what anyone else is saying, and people are stuffing their gullets with the stale Saltines and cardboard-dry prunes in my cupboard. After falling asleep on the couch a few times I staggered to bed and again slept blissfully for 8 hours.

Charles further reports that he enjoyed one can per night and that he “shudders to think how wrecked [he’d] be if he drank a second.” For more information or to shop for Re9ulated, surf here.

Looking back on The Big Lebowski more than a quarter of a century

The Dude abides—and endures. The film came out in 1998, and critics did not get it. The movie, grumbled one smarty, “lacks what even the most unhinged comedies must have in order to work: the recognition that out there, beyond the pratfalls and wisecracks, lurks the darkness.”

But lots of movie-goers got it, and it has become a classic watched innumerable times by millions. One of the film’s charms was its casting, which put together people who were greater than the sum of their parts. And this alchemy was partly accidental.

“The role of the Dude was originally offered to Mel Gibson, who didn’t seem to like or understand the humor in the script, before the Coens moved on to [Jeff] Bridges, who immediately grasped the character. “‘It’s like they spied on me in high school,” he says.’ …. Most of the Dude’s wardrobe was sourced from the closet of Jeff Bridges, including his signature full-zip Westerley sweater, a pair of jelly sandals, and a three-quarter-sleeve baseball shirt bearing the image of Japanese baseball legend Kaoru Betto that he’d swiped from his brother, Beau.”

And the Coen brother considered asking Andy Griffith aor William F. Buckley, Jr. to play the part of the millionaire (who also was named Jeffrey Lebowski).

Read more in Josh Karp’s “A Lotta Ins, a Lotta Outs, a Lotta What-Have-Yous,” Air Mail.

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