To paraphrase and twist a sentimental nonsense statement we have heard from every prohibitionist who ever opened up their dumbass mouth, If even only one person who reads one of these reviews subsequently gets inspired to go out and cop a certain strain that then makes their life better, then the effort will have totally been worth it.
I truly mean that. Especially when it comes to gems like Blue Crack, the child of Blue Dream, a universally adored fruitopia perfect for afternoons of arts and Kraftwerk, and my beloved Green Crack, a Pacific Northwest favorite with a rep as the Ritalin of reefer. For consumers looking for weed that works well in the workplace and the gym, and that opens up your mind while keeping you awake and focused (to a point), this is worth a treasure hunt. The batch that crossed our path was simultaneously firm and fluffy, making for a smooth ride in a joint as well as in a number of glass pipes we sampled with.
Again, Blue Crack should be a go-to for everyday workers and artists alike. That’s my primary reason for writing this, though I’m also hoping to spur some discussion about the name—specifically, the crack part. As anyone who actually lived in the ’80s in a major US city knows, there’s nothing funny about crack. An elite cadre of comedians may get a free pass to address the topic on account of having written legendary routines from the eye of the storm; otherwise, hearing everybody from my friends to growers talk about their feverish affection for addictive crystal-covered crack nugs is slowly becoming as unbearable as bros telling their pals adventure stories about the time GPS took them for a ride through “the hood.”
I’m well aware that this is far from the first rumination on the absurd and increasingly predictable names given to weed. My rant’s not to insult tradition, or to repeat all the cliche gripes; rather, I hope to simply put my name down as someone who recognizes that we’ve hit peak stupid. Many of these monikers have real historical and even personal significance for many people, but with countless hybrids and newfangled seed varieties surfacing every year it’s getting harder, dare I say impossible, to keep up. I don’t have serious answers or solutions, but stitching names of strains together like we do for famous couples is getting confusing. Leafly’s periodic table-like system is a great start; Blue Crack is Brc, for example. Blend that with the Dewey Decimal system and… poof… you’ll probably have something infinitely more bewildering. Never mind me. Just passing through…
In any case, to wrap up I just want to note that while we try to only review strains that are available at licensed dispensaries in New England, this time we made a slight exception for a good reason. Blue Crack’s simply something that the planet needs to know about, a key to unlocking your cranium for creativity and kicking into high gear. We hope that it arrives sooner rather than later, if not in our medical facilities then at rec shops when they open at long last.
Until then, I will be puffing on this batch, writing winded diatribes that are both abstract and utilitarian, sort of like the brands blended and bred together to yield Blue Crack.