So it’s 7am, I still haven’t slept yet, but as I sit here reflecting on what might have been the craziest night of my weed career in Humboldt, I can’t help but smile. I made it. What that means will become more clear as this story evolves. You may find yourself in disbelief, but I promise the events that unfolded are 100% true.
Anderson Valley Advertiser
Although it comes late in life, when because of surgery and old age I am no longer a contender, I have discovered an infallible technique for attracting women: falling off my bicycle. Yesterday morning, around…
I was entertained, the other day, to read in the Journal about the city at last lowering the boom on the Palace's dysfunctional owner Eladia Laines, and finally moving to hire a 'receiver' to take…
It was not the tireless wind now being harnessed by Germany’s Energy Transition (Energiewende)—that same force discussed last week in this space—but the fires of internal combustion that sped us south, from Norden and its…
Does the Taliban have a point?
“I should have buried Dad here,” Billy Lee Riley thought, standing in the unfinished grave up on Panther Rock, digging deeper with a pointed shovel – the wrong fuckin’ tool for the job. Outside the…
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