The Parapolitical Scooby-Doo #1
Spooky Space Kook, Extraterrestrial Psyops, Real Estate Schemes, and the Ghastly Quest for Capital
Everybody asks about “where” Scooby-Doo is, but no one really asks the more prescient “how” does Scooby-Doo exist as a persistent and intriguing pop-cultural touchstone. In an enjoyable review of 1998’s Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island, noted conspiratorial media reviewer pd187 remarks that the lovable hound and his various television cartoon series serve “in a weird way” as “a kid's first McLuhanite media-literacy tool.”1 Their analysis continues:
big business isnt a front for creepy satanic rituals, creepy ritual activity is a front for the mundane evils of business. old man jenkins doesnt need to believe in witch doctors any more than peter thiel needs to believe in #bloodmoons or #q-sigils, he just needs you to believe. powerful exploiters & molesters use lurid, sensationalist grand guignol kitsch like mantis abductions or p1zzagate to scare us away from uncovering the next denny hastert (or ICE abuse) redirecting outrage from the blandly affluent to spectral oddballs, weirdos, artists & queers - a bank president in a monster mask [sic].2
This reading of the cartoon is somewhat gracious—and more referential to the original series than the actual film being reviewed—but I can attest to its general accuracy. I was raised on Scooby-Doo, obsessed some might say, and I still find value in it to this very day. Even in a recent episode of The Getting Spooked Podcast with guest Mark Pilkington, I posited that Scooby-Doo might be (at least a little bit) true to life given the military and industry’s use of folklore, paranormal topics, and conspiracy to fool its enemies or sow distrust—a tendency that pd187 notes in his review. In the original format of the show, now so ubiquitous that it’s parodied often, the monsters and villains were very human, motivated by monetary or material gain, and used local legends or fabricated fiends to reach their dastardly goals. Mystery Inc. crisscrossed late 1960s America in their flowery hippie van and were not fooled by “the man’s” devices, with only the perpetually frightened Shaggy and Scooby falling for the ever-repeating ruse.
To a person with a brain fried by parapolitics, the plans of this ghastly rogues gallery remind one of Ed Lansdale’s vampires and proposed Virgin Mary projections over Cuba, Operation Wandering Soul’s ghostly recordings and funeral dirges, or even the targeting of Paul Bennewitz and other allegedly staged alien abductions. More recent examples include the bizarre tale of jetpack-toting illegal gold miners trying to scare Peruvian natives off their land, a scheme quickly rewritten in Western conspiracy circles as an alien attack.3 While this incident has never been explained satisfactorily, the Scooby-Doo overtones are pungent.
Other writers have observed Scooby-Doo’s subversion of typical conspiratorial thinking. While the gang often acknowledges that a conspiracy is at play in the mysteries afoot, they reject the simplistic “evil forces” approach that was popularized by figures like Bill Cooper or Alex Jones. Mystery Incorporated also rejects the more contemporary to the 1960s, anticommunist, John Bircher conspiracism—though “none dare call it a conspiracy,” I suppose. True to their beatnik roots, the gang instead places the blame on individuals corrupted by the endless drive for wealth or more general baddies. “By blending traditional supernatural elements with corporate and environmental conspiracies, the series explores how power, secrecy, and fear are manipulated within communities, ultimately urging viewers to question the implications of such beliefs on society,” folklorist Sydney Brooks writes of the 2010-2013 incarnation of the show, Scooby-Doo! Mystery Incorporated.4 It is perhaps notable that this formula changed in the mid-1980s—the height of alien abduction and extreme Satanic ritual abuse allegations—when Scooby took on the very real demons unleashed from an ancient occult artifact in The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo.
But overall, if Scooby-Doo (as a decade-spanning multimedia franchise) had a thesis statement, it would be simple: The ghosts, ghouls, and assorted monsters are not real. They serve a symbolic (but manipulative and material) purpose for the elite class or to those striving to achieve great wealth through illicit means. The end goals are nearly always money, natural resources, or real estate. Even if a phantasm or two happens to be real, they are usually remnants of past tragedies or injustices, sometimes manifesting to avoid further crimes against the living. The original structure of the show follows this main thesis precisely, and early Scooby-Doo even contains some interesting takes on UFOs and extraterrestrials during its debut run.
Season 1’s “Spooky Space Kook” is an old favorite of yours truly. The monster has a unique design—an extraterrestrial astronaut in a shadowy rubber spacesuit with only its skull visible in the darkened helmet—and comes armed with a strange cackle provided by Scooby voice actor Don Messick. During Space Kook’s laughing fits, the helmet flashes red in a neat touch. These details left a lasting imprint on young Tanner. Space Kook is not simply an extraterrestrial or a ghost but rather the ghost of an alien visitor, flying a rickety spaceship that looks like a combo of a space shuttle and the Spruce Goose.
In typical Where Are You! fashion, the gang runs out of gas—what are they, stoned?—and pull over at a spooky farmhouse to fill up. Instead, the resident farmer points a shotgun at them, anticipating reporters covering the story of the ghost alien who haunts the nearby airfield. The quintet even see the glowing green footprints left by the spook, curiously reminiscent of an old John Keel story about astronaut boot prints left in the wake of a UFO sighting. Despite the newly refilled tank, the gang spots the mysterious spaceship flying around the airfield. Intrigued by this lead, the ever-helpful Fred decides they need to investigate.
The locale for this mystery is a grim, abandoned Air Force base, implied by the remaining equipment but later confirmed by the crotchety farmer. Shaggy and Scooby are chased all over the premises, giving the viewer a better impression of what’s around. The base has a mess hall with some remaining food and machine rooms with functioning equipment, both indicating that the resident ghost ET might be less than supernatural. There are also planes left on the airstrip, though few look like fighter jets, more like transport or reconnaissance craft. One in particular is branded with the word “RESCUE” on it. Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! is always ambiguous about where in the United States the gang is located at any given point—their hometown of Coolsville is Anytown, USA—but the derelict airfield is more akin to Roswell Army Airfield (later Walker AFB) than a more sprawling complex like Eglin Air Force Base. An image of the episode’s backdrop (legitimately beautiful matte paintings) was used as the thumbnail for last week’s [Spook]Housekeeping post.
After countless hijinks and clues—what would a ghost from outer space be doing reading yesterday’s newspaper?—the gang finally declares they have enough information to deem the whole case a hoax. Fred traps Space Kook in a functioning wind tunnel, where he is revealed to be Henry Bascomb, a neighbor of the farmer who lives nearby. Bascomb’s motivation in all this was to buy the surrounding land at a low price, the Space Kook gimmick intended to scare off other landowners like the farmer. “This Bascomb fella got wind that the Air Force was planning to open the field again and would be needing more land for jets,” the sheriff explains.5
There are a few noticeable issues with this scheme. Bascomb’s plan to get the land cheap would result in him being paid by the Air Force in the event of the base reopening and expanding. Problem: Eminent domain laws would presumably allow the military to take the land with “just compensation” going to Bascomb, but if he gets the land cheap, the “just compensation” would presumably be the price that he paid for it. Not much, if any, profit. An alternate possible reason: In the late 1960s, the exact time of the episode’s airing, the military-industrial complex was more willing to explore the paranormal and its potential utilization as psychological weaponry. Sidney Gottlieb of the CIA’s Technical Services Division, for instance, had an interest in parapsychology and psychical research, viewing these fields as possible avenues for intelligence purposes.6 Perhaps Space Kook was ahead of the curve and recognized that a paranormal hotspot would be of interest to DoD investment, sort of a proto-Skinwalker Ranch. Then again, I would think eminent domain applies, ghost ETs or not.
While somewhat prophetic in its notions of using aliens and UFOs as a tool of deception, “Spooky Space Kook” nevertheless isolates the villain of the episode in the realm of the commonfolk. Whereas the military is the likely culprit for several proposed real world extraterrestrial psyops—and specific factions of the MIC are certainly the culprit for the continued proliferation of the UFO meme—Scooby-Doo Where Are Are You! instead places the blame on an ordinary member of the public, the curmudgeonly farmer’s next door neighbor. But other notable questions remain unanswered: Did Bascomb provide the abandoned airfield with its strange equipment (i.e. multiple Space Kook suits, film projectors, audio equipment, jeeps with false flat tires, etc.) or was it already housed there? If so, what were these used for? Why would the Air Force have a whole set of Space Kook dummies sitting around?
Scooby-Doo is limited in the amount of depth that its investigations can partake in, it is a children’s cartoon after all, but Air Force complicity could also be part of the equation. Bascomb’s allegiances are implied to be only to himself, but his use of the Air Force’s property—remember, only the surrounding area was not already owned by the Air Force—indicates some level of collusion. While the airfield is abandoned, it would be rare for it to not have an AF-affiliated caretaker, especially when so much usable equipment is still sitting on the grounds. Maybe Bascomb was the caretaker, given the extra task of scaring off the nearby residents so that the base could reopen and expand. While this may be giving Bascomb too much credit, the level of intricacy involved in his haunted house routine pales in comparison to the amount of thinking used on the financial side of things. Was the Air Force trying to evade an eminent domain payout altogether or was something more sinister and covert afoot? These are the questions that must be asked of a 1960s Saturday morning cartoon with a talking dog.
I concur with pd187, that the “ideal version of scooby doo is something like MIRAGE MEN”—a reference point that the program comes surprisingly close to in “Spooky Space Kook.”7 As pd187 writes: “scooby doo isnt some potteresque fantasy about teens fighting magical monsters, its a blueprint for young conspiracy theorists on how to approach the terrifying (but real) deceivers of our world [sic].”8 I couldn’t have said it better myself. This humble Saturday morning children’s cartoon, then, serves as a rubric for critical thinking that can be utilized to better understand the sinister forces that guide the world. A Scoobric, if you will. These forces are not supernatural, paranormal, or otherwise mystical, they are the very real entities behind capital accumulation and resource plunder.
Yet, the way Scooby programs approach the variety of lore, legends, and rumors that serve as antagonistic entities is surprisingly well-read on the real-life equivalents. In potential future installments, ancient aliens, the Bermuda Triangle, interdimensional beings, monsters from the future, Judeo-Christian demons, and oodles of indigenous legends are deployed by sinister big business representatives—sometimes even the military—as weapons of manipulation against an unsuspecting populace. One can see how we might need meddling kids now more than ever.
This series was something light and fun I had on the docket in case burnout set in, but if you enjoyed and want to see more, let me know. Rest assured, I have many more episodes to delve into and my knowledge of Scooby is expansive (and unbefitting of a 29-year-old man). As always, thank you for reading Getting Spooked. I am a reader-supported publication, so if you enjoy this research and commentary on the paranormal and parapolitical, consider subscribing, sharing articles with others, or upgrading to a paid subscription. This is not without its benefits: Paid members gain access to archived articles, special podcast episodes, Cystic Detective Updates, and the ability to ask questions for Q&As. It is the best way to directly support the continuation of this publication. My thanks goes out to anyone who has done so.
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pd187. “Review by pd187: Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island.” Letterboxd. 18 September 2020. https://letterboxd.com/pd187/film/scooby-doo-on-zombie-island/.
Ibid.
Janowitz, Nathaniel. “‘Flying Aliens’ Harassing Village in Peru Are Actually Illegal Miners With Jetpacks, Cops Say.” VICE. 14 August 2023. https://www.vice.com/en/article/peru-aliens-illegal-miners-with-jetpacks/.
Brooks, Sydney K., “’Gang, We Have a Mystery on our Hands!’: A Folkloristic Approach to Conspiracy Thinking in Scooby-Doo! Mystery Incorporated” (2025). All Graduate Reports and Creative Projects, Fall 2023 to Present. Page 7-8. https://digitalcommons.usu.edu/gradreports2023/80.
“Spooky Space Kook.” Scooby-Doo, Where Are You!, created by Joe Ruby and Ken Spears, Season 1, Episode 15, Hanna-Barbara Productions, 1969.
Weinberger, Sharon. “When the C.I.A. Was Into Mind Control.” The New York Times. 10 September 2019. https://archive.is/20250203022919/https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/10/books/review/poisoner-in-chief-stephen-kinzer.html#selection-725.0-725.37.
pd187. “Review by pd187: Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island.” Letterboxd. 18 September 2020. https://letterboxd.com/pd187/film/scooby-doo-on-zombie-island/.
Ibid.
That was fun! Yes, more please.
10 or so years ago, one of my favorite comic book writers co-wrote a "Scooby Apocalypse" comic book series that put the gang in a post-apocalyptic world. I have not read it, so don't know if it follows the same "blueprint for young conspiracy theorists" pattern. It did get a lot of praise at the time. I mention it as a curiosity, if nothing else.
And they would've gotten away with it too, if it wasn't for that meddling Getting Spooked!