I don’t claim to be psychic, but I must have been smoking some strong psychoactive substances back in August 2019, when I predicted Wayne Coyne would dip his bedazzled fingers into the celebrity weed market.
And while I did not know he would name his new line of weed gummies after Miley Cyrus’ favorite song, I still knew the Flaming Lips frontman would trod here in his never-ending quest for Oklahoman icon status (even if we don’t want it to happen and have continually told him to stop).
After many articles fawning over the “Love Yer Brain” launch at the (sold-out) Critereon concert on 4/20 (Patrick, where’s my ticket!?!), I wanted to see what I’d actually be eating here. Touting brain-shaped gummies in decidedly unOklahoman flavors like watermelon, green apple and raspberry, these wacky weed treats are specially made for unlocking creativity and taking a trip inside of Wayne’s brayne.
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I can only imagine the gong-banging, confettied chaos of a million rumpled-suit-wearing monkeys as some sort of comparison to the bedlam that might occur in my mind after popping a Love Yer Brain gummy. There are no images available of the product or packaging, so I’m just going leave this life-sized gummy comparison, in hopes this is one of those things that gets put out on the internet and becomes reality.
Unfortunately, my leached WiFi is slow, and when loveyerbrain.com finally loaded I was greeted with a semi- animated decapitated head of Wayne shooting laser beams out of his eyes — hopefully destroying all the normie chumps and squares that have infested Norman, my hero! I waited all that time only to be stopped with a bad gif and subscription service? I couldn’t let my fear of being forever hounded by the flaming freaks stop me in my journalistic duties. I had to input my information and continue!
Well I did, and all I got was a confirmation email…talk about impersonal.
I was hoping for a Wayned Weedy Wonka to be beamed from my phone and projected on my wall proclaiming my free ticket to the 4/20 launch concert. “Play One More Robot you fucks!” I would yell from my moistened space bubble, as confetti begins to stick and obscure my view…only to have the evening get better when I’m thrown out for arguing that a true live Race for the Prize performance must feature way too much overzealous gong and theremin playing. I guess I’m just a flaming purist.
Maybe this Skunkle will even gong-bang-and-tell, after I get a chance to put my brain on Love Yer Brain.
—Uncle Skunk wishes the best to Mr. Coyne
