In some regions of the country, the Girl Scout Cookies you know and eat too many of have very different names. Tagalongs become “Peanut Butter Patties”. Samoas: “Caramel deLites”. You know what they call Thin Mints in those places? Thin Mints. They call them Thin Mints. The name is an absolute, just like their deliciousness.
And who knows the most about the deliciousness of cookies, of everyone in the world? Cookie Monster. And what would Cookie Monster do with Samoas? Nothing. There’s nothing TO do. You’ve seen how the dude eats: he just rams cookies into his mouth as crumbs surround him like a swarm of delicious, sugary bees. Thin Mints have that classic cookie crumble-ability.
Samoas? They’re too structurally sound, too engineered. The caramel insists they never crumble, which everyone knows cookies are meant to do. They basically have no soul. If you gave Cookie Monster Samoas, he would say, “C is for cookie that’s good enough for me, but what is not good enough for me are these cookies that I hate, which is something I don’t often say, considering I am a monster who loves cookies.”
But here’s maybe the best part: they’re a sleeper cookie. In a room full of Samoas, people will get all excited about the Samoas, eat all the Samoas, and then, eventually, become ill and not want any more Samoas even if they were around, because too much coconut is not a good thing at all. And, then, you look over in the corner, and there it is: an untouched box of Thin Mints, 32 cookies strong and just waiting for you to lean back and pop them into your mouth one by one, and laugh and laugh, and realize that you are eating the greatest cookie ever made by a Girl Scout. Who totally make them, right?