If the pantheon of original cannabis strains named after primates were an Olympic event, Gorilla Glue would undoubtedly get the gold, and Grape Ape would take a strong and solidified silver. While the bronze slot might be up for debate, my vote for the next medal winner would be Kong, the hairy wonder of the pot world.
Browsing: Growing
I’ve never been one to hate on the outlandish or complex names of strains. But while the absurdity of a sativa called Somali Taxi Ride or a hybrid named Toxic Kool Aid might pique my interest, simple and no-nonsense classics are generally the strains that will last commercially. And few have names as straight to the point as Hash Plant.
I’m a fan of Colorado-centric strains, so I was surprised when a friend recently pointed out a glaring omission in our strain-review archives: 303 OG. Unlike Colorado Cough or Commerce City Kush, 303 OG (also called 303 Kush) has a reputation outside of the state, where it’s known for its Pre-’98 Bubba Kush and Chemdawg genetics as well as its social effects. But as with just about anything that’s become a local legend, some of 303 OG’s backstory is disputed.
Add this year’s Girl Scout cookies season to a long list of blown opportunities for me. I walked by more than a dozens stands of Thin Mints, Tagalongs and Do-si-dos outside of grocery stores, breweries and even pot shops, but I kept abstaining, confident there would be another time to buy. Alas, now that time is gone, and my freezer never saw one box of Thin Mints.
Granola Funk isn’t a jam band that opens for Phish or Umphrey’s McGee, but it might be in the same ballpark. The potent hybrid’s name could easily double as a new genre of yuppie psychedelic music taking over the Front Range, and its characteristics are full of relaxation and nostalgia: perfect for a mid-summer night at Red Rocks.
For most generations, Hercules (or Heracles, if you want to get technical) denotes strength and resiliency. But for mine, he was a cartoon taking orders from a minotaur voiced by Danny DeVito, or a loud kid who made childhood obesity funny in The Nutty Professor. Still, when I found a cannabis strain named after the Greek demigod, I couldn’t help but feel a bit intimidated.
Trying a new strain without showing it the proper respect can end up messy, as I was reminded last week when I dove head-first into an intergalactic abyss not just once, but twice. I should’ve expected as much from a strain named Cosmic Railway, a sativa-leaning hybrid that left me feeling abducted and probed like a drunk Appalachian farmer that none of the townspeople will listen to.
My mother would’ve quashed any hint of homophobia in our house, but thanks to Freddie Mercury, she didn’t have to. Queen songs such as “Fat Bottomed Girls,” “Bohemian Rhapsody” and “We Will Rock You” made Mercury one of my role models as a child, and learning that he died of AIDS days after I was born was like finding out that Santa Claus wasn’t real: I couldn’t fathom it. But that also made him even more supernatural in my eyes.
Combatting the stoner stereotype is the rage these days, and I’m all for it. Having moms and working professionals come out of the closet, hitting vape pens and microdosing edibles to kick ass and relax without the Cheetos, is great for diversifying the consumer image. But sometimes I just want to get giggly-baked, eat chicken nuggets and laugh at poop jokes, and I’m not afraid to admit it.