Native Roots: Corleone Kush – La prova e nel gusto!
24% THC – Indica Dominant Hybrid – Pre ‘98 Bubba Kush X SFV OG Kush
When I picked up the latest batch of Corleone Kush at Native Roots in Edgewater, it was about 7:30pm on a Thursday night. I had grandiose dreams of fresh pasta, a Neapolitan ragu, and a big, fat, honkin’ Chianti. However, after taking my third rip from my freshly cleaned glass pipe, it was very clear I was going to settle for leftover Lo Mein and a warm Coors Light. Poof! My aspirations of a home cooked Italian classic went up in smoke, just like the dank, crystally nugget of Godfather fame. Let me tell you though, I crushed that fucking Chinese right down to the last noodle, and swigged the room-temperature beer like it was my last. In my stoned haze, it probably tasted just as good as the meal I fancied. Nevertheless, with my munchies quashed, I bee-lined to the nearest recliner, kicked my feet up and flipped on the first season of Homeland. Holy fuckin’ shit, that’s the best show on TV right now. Period. Your argument against is irrelevant. My next memory involved the dog barking shrilly at the sound of another dog barking, 4 miles away. It startled me out of my chair and out of my trance – major bummer. But fixable. I sparked the bowl for another two solid rips, and let my newfound euphoria soak in. Initially, I would have classified The Don’s bud as a major couch lock, but on the second go, I found immense clarity and a deeply introspective mood. I was able to relax and focus on some internal strife I’ve been facing over the last couple of weeks. My high helped contribute to the decision-making process and helped fortify my stance that I should continue fighting an important battle, not let it fall to the wayside. Incredibly vague, I know, but you might find some comfort and strength in the wisdom of Corleone Kush too. After all the thinking and deciding and introspective-ness, I found my munchies lingering again. I was craving a cannoli and a Godfather marathon weekend. Given the effort it would take to actually find a decent Italian pastry in Denver, a town sorely devoid of ANY solid ethnic restaurants, I decided to indulge on the stale fruit-roll up I found in the back of my pantry. Such is life when the indica is slowing your brain down. In the end, the high was a perfect ending to a less-than-perfect day. My visit to Native Roots was relatively brief, but the budtender sure knew what the fuck he was talking about when he pushed this strain my way. Clearly, the Corleone Kush had made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
Check out the Corleone Kush online!