Former Fox News host Tucker Carlson launched his own brand, ALP, short for American Lip Pillow, in 2024. “Nicotine’s super important,” the ex-smoker told podcaster Theo Von in December, embodying a plump Marlboro Man for the smoke-free age. “This country’s gotten far sadder and less healthy since it was discouraged, and it’s coming back and it shows: People are just happier.” He also admitted to Men’s Health in January: “Is ALP addictive? Fuck yeah, it’s addictive!” (Carlson, 56, reportedly told podcaster Lex Fridman that nicotine “literally … makes my dick super hard.”)
Brain Power
Nicotine’s core mechanism hasn’t changed in the journey from puff to pouch; the compound still floods the brain with dopamine. Dependence develops quickly, but for some users in the tech sector, the rush of productivity balances out the risk of dependency.
“I almost become addicted to the amount of output that I can achieve by using it,” says Cory Firth, an entrepreneur and flow-state coach who swears by a brand called Sonic. The former smoker abides by a system of four-week cycles, which he punctuates with a week or two of abstinence. “When I notice that I need it to feel normal, that’s when I know I’m in trouble and I need to take a break,” he says. “The first couple of days can be difficult, because you’re messing with your baseline of the neurochemical that helps you focus.”
Nick Bostrom, the author of a bestselling book about AI called Superintelligence: Paths, Dangers, Strategies, prefers his method of ingestion, a nicotine-coated toothpick, to profit from the drug’s “nootropic benefits for memory and concentration.” The nicotine pouches revolutionizing daily work for many tech workers “seem a bit yucky,” he says, brandishing his toothpick during our Zoom call.
The 53-year-old Bostrom ditched nicotine gum, which he chewed for many years after discovering the products contain “a bunch of gunk that seemed of dubious healthiness.” The pouches, it seems, might follow a similar trajectory—vaunted until somebody closely checks the small print. With an unflavored toothpick, by contrast, the nicotine is as clean as it can be, Bostrom says: “If you’re trying to be health-conscious and then exposing yourself to a whole bunch of substances continuously … then I feel it’s better to do it in a pure form.” He acknowledges with a hint of sarcasm, “There’s a kind of coolness in being like, ‘Yes, I’m a machine.’”
When I speak to Brian Erkkila, a neuroscientist and head of executive affairs at Philip Morris, he would not be drawn into a discussion about whether smokeless nicotine is cool. But he did suggest that cigarettes are passé, calling them “a 20th century nicotine-delivery way of doing things.” He also poured cold water on some of the biohackers’ claims, with the science “not solid enough to say that there is a cognitive benefit.” And Erkkila swats away criticism of Zyn pouches’ makeup: “All of those things are food-grade ingredients that you would find in the grocery store.”
Ups and Downs
But how “clean” really are the pouches? A gulf is swiftly emerging between nicotine advocates who use the pouches and those who use toothpicks, lozenges, pills, patches, or sprays. Biohacking guru and author Dave Asprey describes nicotine as being close to a perfect psychotropic. “If you’re under-aroused, it brings you up; over-aroused, it brings you down,” he says.
But Asprey is equally critical of pouch brands that use artificial additives and synthetic fibers, which he claims include microplastics, and has invested in the brand Lucy, which he says is healthier than its competitors. “Pouches might fall out of favor, but clean nicotine will likely be here to stay, especially as more and more research comes out on the brain benefits,” Asprey adds.
