LIFE ON LIDO LANE
“The Demon Box,” Burdell called it. In other words, Demons from Hell could leap out from something as evil as NBC Nightly News and possess us.
memoir
THE DEACON & MY MOTHER
In what smelled like the belch of an Arabian camel, Burt’s Evil Twin grumbled with a mouthful of sunflower seeds, “I’m marrying your mother.”
MY INSANE YEAR AS A HEMP FARMER – PART 14
A month later I found myself on a private jet headed to Vegas. Trato Diablo Farms had been nominated for Game Changer of the Year at MJBizCon, the world’s largest conference in the marijuana industry.
MY INSANE YEAR AS A HEMP FARMER – PART 13
There was no elevated consciousness here. This was about one thing: Money. At the end of the day, that’s what this was – no matter what these guys claimed: medicine, cannabinoid wellness, alternative health, bologna. It was about stacks.
MY INSANE YEAR AS A HEMP FARMER – PART 12
I thought whatever health problem Cornelius was dealing with was temporary and certainly not serious. Or he would have told me. Right?
MY INSANE YEAR AS A HEMP FARMER – PART 11
It was truly the happiest we’d ever been. I was working in this crazy but interesting new industry and Chelsea was finally home full-time raising the family. We had forged ahead with our new lives and landed at the end of the continent, in beautiful Oregon.
MY INSANE YEAR AS A HEMP FARMER – PART 10
This was no partnership. This was no empire being built. It was a house of cards slapped together by a bunch of greedy egos completely out of their range of experience and aptitude.
MY INSANE YEAR AS A HEMP FARMER – PART 9
Beyond the narrative about healthy cannabinoids and medicine and whatever stories these guys were trying to sell everybody on, at the end of the day the only thing these muldoons were concerned about was how much money they could milk out of this cash cow.
MY INSANE YEAR AS A HEMP FARMER – PART 8
It appeared Cornelius didn’t tell this lunatic anything about me – my qualifications, my background, my experience, nothing.
