Stuck in a car with his parents driving to a family wedding in Vermont, a very close friend of ours wrote the following in an email:

ll be in VT this weekend at my cousin’s engagement party. Ill be with my parents so unfortunately it will be very difficult to bang her hot friends unless I carry out my business in the barn her father built with his bare hands.

After inquiring about said barn, we were sent this:

My uncle erected a barn. I’m driving up with my parents right now and my dad told me about the first time he met my moms family at the barn raising.

He went up to visit mum for the barn raising and found a huge crop field full of pot (maybe an acre), with a few rows of corn plants as cover running the perimeter. My grandmother thought they were just ‘weeds’ and shrugged it off. She was probably drunk.

There is little doubt that my uncle, now a well-regarded woodworker, inlay expert and published hand-plane authority, was a very successful pot dealer in middle VT when he was our age. He’s on his third wife. He is also missing part of his left ring finger. It is assumed that he chopped it off on a table saw while woodworking, while stoned.

Bravo…  Bravo.