The Mac by ZoZ Cannabis
Welcome back to toasted n’ posted where we will be diving into The M.A.C. one last time. I couldn’t help but find out what nuances that ZoZ Cannabis has brought into this raging flavor-of-the-month strain. The M.A.C., or Miracle Alien Cookies, has a bit of story to accompany its checkered lineage. The product of a bizarre accident, no one is positive what magical entity entwined with Alien Cookies that day. I have heard rumors of the muse being Durban Poison while other sources aledge it to be crossed with Starfighter or a Colombian landrace. The only certainty is its untended dominance as it ascends to the apex of fame as we close out 2019. Let’s unravel this knotted mass of mystery together.
I approach the miracle that lies in wait. Crossing the invisible line in the sand, I am pulverized by a creamy musk. A curdled essence honed to a point of herbal briskness. A sweetness equal parts haze, citrus, and milky; the unwieldy froth unleashes raw burps of enlivening citrus vanilla from its depths. A spell of arid spice freckles across the rolling grassy shell. Jackets of aerated eucalyptus warmth put a minty spin on the jungle canopy.
The refreshing conquest is grounded by a neutered nutty crunch and drawn out by a buttery wake. An allure of sandy grape dusts the trail, coughs of dry berry smack in the distance. Given a chance to resurface, the pseudo-vanilla skunk musters a revival as the berry procession tires. The tired wake teases whispers of tangie gas to pad the dismissal with a fuzzy peach distortion.
Challenging the foretold prophecy, I snap the crystalline carcasses under my nose. Rockets of ripe tangerine gas burst from the fissure. A curvature of sour cream is the only boundary serving to quell a portion of The M.A.C.’s ferocity. A mellow floral melody mists over the gushing wound; a tart spritz of potpourri bathing a bright citrus rind. Willful licks of haze propel the profile forward a few octaves while reinforcing the greedy zest.
A tepid mossy dank draws a brittle heat from half-hearted spells of woodland funk. From beneath the moldy mulch, a wellspring of rejuvenating fruit begins to feed a berry bayou. The ambiguous sweetness washes through the corrosive tangerine leaving a unified mound of slick dewey tang. Oddly enough, the decimated flowers summon feathers of brisket barbeque smoke that smolder between the realms of hickory and maple.
Overcast monoliths drowned by an atmosphere of raging egg-white resin. Plastered cliffs of crystalline froth harden shelves of translucent bronze over the jungles of dense foliage. The resinous swarm pours over the flower in such overwhelming fashion that it takes considerable effort to discern through to its true disposition. The suite of bold verdancy is drawn towards a warm chartreuse sun as the sunken shades are augmented through the seas of psychoactive spyglass.
An armored nexus of moss, olive, and crocodile; The M.A.C. casts a sultry shadow that highlights the fine psychoactive quills above. A marshmallowy blue hue seems to influence the molasses swamp of seeping greens. The murky waters are herded by rare stark streaks of plum. This strain seems to embody the Sci-Fi speculated skin tones of martians; a tented canvas stretching from pine to teal as it makes its stake in ambiguity. Disrupting the asphyxiating jacket of frost are the rogue strands of burnished red. Frail stigmas resemble human hair as they weave and cling to the cemented ridges of Miracle Alien Cookies. The intermittent spits of roasted orange offer a dimension of architecture over the otherwise bulldozing blizzards of trichomes.
The M.A.C. produces flowers of considerable size that present themselves far more stable than your average Cookies phenotype. Reaching cones decorated by a rolling arrowhead point, these buds are reinforced every step of the way. Plump calyxes stagger in diamond formation to shore up the concrete structure. Visible gaps in its chainmail are depressed by the splashing dominance of the trichomes. A quick squeeze serves as testament to this strain’s strength; as the only advance I can measure is the steel foliage reciprocally digging into my fingertips. There are no conventional hopes in compromising this fortress of frost.
Leaf to flame, my tongue trembles from clamoring claps of pepper clashing against a rejuvenating carpet of berry moss. A skillfully woven lattice of musky tang, Miracle Alien Cookies rebounds between citrus funk and tongue-slapping berry lusciousness. Pinches of tea leaf, basil, and smoky pine nut are pestled to a savory paste. The gravy of stern leaf trudges into a cauldron of syrupy afghan goo. Planks of sandalwood cool bridge over the firm herbal stank.
Sour popsicle sticks prop up a withered whim of gas born of hashy grapefruit and snapping tangerine skin. As the bowl chars, the profile becomes evermore blackened and emboldened. A transformation to jagged frailty, Miracle Alien Cookies discards its buttery sweet charms to fuel a furnace of cutting chem and grinding desert haze. Spicy, sweet, and bold; The M.A.C. spins ribbons of smoky syrup onto the backs of the stabbing fumes.
A bud of reassurance blooms in my mind. Physically and emotionally, I feel a rekindling of spirit. Euphoria boiled awake by a familiar kindness, my blood feels as if it is propelled by a bouquet of glugging intravenous jacuzzi jets. Teased by inconsistent prods of exhilaration, my heart gasps as I acclimate to the spitting streams of pleasure. A circus of unwieldy physical charms stand in defiant contrast to the numbness now flooding my mind.
A tub being drained, my brain discards tension at the penalty of forfeiting the ability to form cohesive thought. Currently incapable of reading at a fourth grade level, I feel my consciousness slump into a mound of wet sand. Shifting and amorphous, resummiting my inner mountain of ego and identity seems impossible while under the influence of Miracle Alien Cookies.
Embracing the accommodating emptiness, I abandon desire to acquire peace. Relishing in the brewing tsunami of aloof physical ease, my joints seem to fizzle and expand from the unbridled strength. My body is converted into a cloud through alien alchemy, my floating limbs are only banded together through coincidence. The potency of my existence flickers as I dissipate into the aether.
The M.A.C. being so popular presented us with the opportunity to see a lot of quality phenotypes. ZoZ Cannabis has by far one of the most photogenic cuts that lies an emphasis down on luscious damp and creamy freshness while easing off on the atypical vanilla gas. The stability of these flowers is insanely impressive and I challenge you not to initiate a photoshoot of your own when you acquire from of this flower. Now that I think of it, this strain reminds me a lot of Cookies n’ Cream. As always, thanks for reading.
The M.A.C. score: 88/100
Aroma – 17
Physical – 20
Flavor – 15
Consistency – 19
Sensation – 17