When I read about a new strain named after someone from the planet’s latest fixation, I knew I had to get some! What I didn’t know was the Green Box dispensary on 10th St. in OKC was curbside pick up only. So I couldn’t use their ATM, which led to me having to try two different 7-Elevens, but their security guard was nice and told me he liked my hat and shirt — and the bud tender had my order ready to go when I came back with my $20.
Hello, That Bitch Carole Baskin.
This is a mysterious new Okie bud alleged to be a cross between White Widow and Skunk #1. The real Carole Baskin just won control of Joe Exotic’s infamous G.W. Zoo, so things look to be going her way. Time to find out if this bitch is as bad as she thinks.
More lush than the jungles those famous felines deserve to live in, the dense, dark green foliage enveloped by lighter hints of sun from the canopy shimmer down on the trichrome sugar that sits on top. I know there’s some infatuation with animals amongst the big cat owners and this nug is doing the same for me. I may just end up writing, “I saw a weed leaf” and “Here weedy seedy.”
While the lineage would have you believe this would end up smelling stronger than tiger musk, the overall skunkiness was not as pungent as I had anticipated. Nice earthen tones color the stank in a pleasant way, making for a fairly odorless drive home, unless you sniffed Auntie Skunk’s purse real close.
Taking a cue from James, I decided to “taste“ the dry bud, but I didn’t have a clean one-hitter. Ever resourceful, I used a clean pen cap to capture the bud’s pure flavor. As I was beginning to taste a skunky grass flavor on the side of my tongue, a piece flew down the cap and into my throat, causing me to gag just a tiny bit. Damn, choking and I haven’t even lit up yet? Last time I do that!
Breaking up nicely under my finger, the chunked up bits of bud burned brightly as my clean bong bubbled away. After the first hit, I didn’t feel any urge to murder my spouse and feed her to my cat Merlin. I decided to ask That Bitch Carole Baskin to see her manager and took another hit, this time coming back with a bit harsher attitude, which made my eyes water. Still not impressed by the wrath of this devil-woman…and wanting to earn the highest short color possible, I took another deep hit, almost as deep as a tiger’s stomach. The sensation I had hacking up this last smokeball left a sour taste in my mouth, which made me remember/experience the correct name of a crossbreed of this strain: Tiger Poop.
2 out of 5 Skunks! 🦨🦨
I knew That Bitch was up to something. It was all part of her plan to shake me up — a Terpene terrorist if you will — and discredit me in the weed community! If I disappear, you know who to take out. Leaving a smell akin to an neglected tiger cage in my room, I have a feeling I will never recover from this existentially. Not everyone can be king, and this fad strain is something to be avoided like the real Carole Baskin. Especially at $15/gram.
—Check out Uncle Skunk on SoundCloud