I’ve been trying to think of a satisfactory comparison for OG Kush, and the best I can come up with is Gatorade. It’s available everywhere, virtually everyone likes it, and it has tons of flavors. Are the classic OG, San Fan Fernando Valley OG and Tahoe OG the same strains? No, yet they’re all phenotypes of OG Kush, carrying similar but distinct characteristics that have created one of the most popular genetics webs in cannabis.
Four weeks from now, voters in Michigan, Missouri, North Dakota and Utah will all be deciding measures that would lift legal restrictions on marijuana — but all in different ways. And Colorado, too, has another marijuana-related issue on the ballot.
A Michigan ballot proposal would set up a licensed retail system similar to Colorado’s, while North Dakota voters will decide whether to allow marijuana possession and distribution (but without a comprehensive business licensing system), as well as expunging certain marijuana-related crimes.
I’m not going to waste time complaining about my life — everyone has to eat shit sometimes, and my diet is relatively free from that substance — but the tidal wave of feces lapping on my shores last week broke records. Financial, medical and relationship issues all culminated in one massive dump, and just like that, I was officially over being an adult. I needed an age-cation.
Shopping for a strain to help me escape into a land of Nickelodeon cartoons, comic books and ice cream sandwiches for a weekend, I came upon Sour OG. A product of San Fernando Valley OG Kush (SFV OG) and Sour Diesel, Sour OG has been bypassed by Girl Scout Cookies as everyone’s favorite OG-sativa blend, but the fifty-fifty hybrid’s presence in Denver dispensaries should still be respected.
The Drug Enforcement Administration appeared to take a large step forward on Thursday, September 27, when it confirmed that it would reclassify Epidiolex as a Schedule V substance. The move follows Food and Drug Administration approval and classifies the marijuana-derived cannabidiol (CBD) medication under the DEA’s lowest restriction for drugs, so physicians and pharmacies can now prescribe and dispense it in all fifty states under federal law.
I recently heard Ving Rhames say in a radio interview that Quentin Tarantino “loves breakfast cereal.” Rather than go down the rabbit hole of wondering what fucked-up combination of booze and breakfast Tarantino has in the morning, I started craving some breakfast cereal of my own — and you would, too, after hearing Rhames’s gruff, sexy voice over-enunciate those two words.
I’m at a point in my life where cereal is more of a dessert than breakfast; I enjoy Apple Jacks and Cap’n Crunch as sugary delicacies rather than as “part of a well-balanced breakfast,” as their shady commercials suggest. I stay away from Fruity Pebbles, though, because I’ll eat the entire box in one day. Luckily for me, the weed named after Fruity Pebbles will knock me out before I can overindulge.
If cannabis has all this medical value, why do strain breeders continue to label it with names that sound like a disease? I don’t know about you, but I’d never want to come down with a case of Sour Amnesia — which sounds a lot like what most grumpy old men go through on a daily basis. And after a few too many puffs of the sativa-dominant hybrid of the same name, I started to feel like confused old fart myself.
A cross of Amnesia and Sour Diesel, Sour Amnesia is a double shot of espresso that also makes you forget how to put on your pants. The two potent sativas create a delicious yet dangerous strain that will give you all the vigor and intelligence of a golden retriever, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing, if you know what you’re getting into.
Cannabis has become a popular alternative treatment for cancer, but with one of its own fighting for his life, the legal pot industry has geared up to fight the disease on a different level. A member of that industry for five years, Jason Margolies was diagnosed with stage-four colon cancer at the beginning of 2018.
Suffering from Crohn’s disease since at least 2000, Margolies considered himself lucky to have never required surgery, but that changed last fall when his health began to decline. An operation found a tumor in his chest; initially labeled benign, it was actually malignant. In January, doctors found that cancer had spread to his lungs and abdomen.
There’s nothing wrong with letting loose at the bar sometimes, but too many drinks tonight can lead to sharp headaches and a pukey stomach tomorrow. Especially in Colorado, where three IPAs can suck the moisture right out of you.
Like the nurturing yin to alcohol’s belligerent yang, cannabis can be your savior when you wake up to the self-mutilation from the night before. You might need a greasy burrito, a gallon of water and a three-hour nap to bring it all home, but for many of us, Miss Mary is an essential first step in ditching a hangover.
Virtually every strain of weed can help with a hangover, as THC and CBD both induce appetite and relax the muscles — but some strains will hold you closer to their bosoms than others. To help get past that smelly day after, here are twelve strains we’ve reviewed that are prime hangover helpers.
Dear Stoner: My kid has growing pains in his legs and deals with shin splints after running or playing sports. Would CBD cream put him at risk of getting into trouble or anything like that at school?
When I moved back to Colorado five years ago, sour beers were just about to become something big. Only the brave breweries were making these brews, which had to spend upwards of a year aging in barrels or required volatile yeast strains that Americans weren’t used to. Today you can get kettle sours in six-packs at a corner liquor store. Nothing wrong with that, but the next big thing has lost its luster.
The same thing has happened to citrus strains. The wide-eyed looks and open mouths once evoked by California Orange or Lemon Kush have been replaced by ho-hum reactions; consumers are like a spoiled fat kid who “only” got one cookie. Tart, pinching scents of lemons and oranges are now commonplace, thanks to the vast inventories of commercialized cannabis. But when we fail to appreciate them, whose fault is it? Ours. Mine, specifically.