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Strain review: Clementine Kush

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Try not to think of old man cologne. - BRANDON SODERBERG
  • Brandon Soderberg
  • Try not to think of old man cologne.
Weed writing I fear, is maybe entering its annoying explainer phase, with lots of glib weed hot takes, I kvetched a while back. I was referring to annoying if not entirely useless pieces such as Vice Motherboard’s endlessly shared “Weed Strains Are Mostly Bullshit” (to which I ask, what on earth is not mostly bullshit?) that leave little room for fun or wonder or one’s own subjective whims whatever they may be when it comes to weed. And all that seems like an important element to consider when we’re thinking about a thing whose effects are primarily on the mind.

When I was smoking Clementine Kush, I started thinking that clementines are hybrids of mandarins and sweet oranges and nobody denies that they are different from other oranges and that some people might enjoy them more, and no one’s dropping hot takes about how you don’t #actually understand the fruit you’re enjoying. There are lots of kinds of oranges and people prefer them for reasons that can be broached by mentioning pinene, but that doesn’t tell the whole story. Satsuma Mandarins for example — with the big leaves and long stems, a little smaller than your average orange, a little bigger than a clementine with a looser skin — have a singular taste, though the fact that they’re suddenly all around you because of the holidays adds something associative to their taste.

Tangie descendant Clementine Kush is a hybrid of Tangerine Sunrise (an especially strong and yippy strain) and Gupta Kush (a sedate Indica named after the Democratically favored doctor who is pro-weed apparently, though also firmly in the pocket of big pharma and look, naming a strain after this guy feels like the neoliberal nadir of contemporary cannabis culture TBH, dude is not exactly Jack Herer but I digress). Clementine Kush tastes a lot like an orange with a touch of cheap old man cologne and looks strange, a tangle of long and short leaves with crystals wrapped around them, oblong, like it’s sagging, an old man’s ball sack dipped in keef — yeah I said it.

Clementine Kush’s effects dump on you, dripping down the body from head and eyes to shoulders, then retreating for a moment before going farther downward. It was as if I was being ironed, heated relief moving along my whole body retracing its past few steps a bit each time and then pushing on a little farther. I went out to go watch some basketball at a bar, as I am wont to do, whatever game, any game as long as it’s NBA or WNBA, I watch it anarchically with no dedication to location all in praise of the individuals passing, shooting or dunking briefly bigger than team or corporation when they have that big, yes, orange ball in their hand. Viewing an HD broadcast on a non-HD television created a shimmering smear of orange behind the ball as it flung across the court and this orange weed unloaded on me, a smear of alleviation moving through me. It felt right, though I cannot explain it and do not want to.

Strength: 8
Nose: An orange obviously, but also wood and bad bodywash
Euphoria: 7
Existential dread: 2
Freaking out when a crazy person approaches you: 2
Drink pairing: Freshly squeezed orange juice
Music pairing: Rosalía, El Mal Querer
Rating: 7

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