The first thing to make perfectly clear is; “what is high value agriculture?” Is it those fancy chickens? The ones with feathers on their feet? Or perhaps lilacs? Maybe it’s growing lilacs for the perfume or table decorating market? Both of these might be true. Or neither. But it’s probably the chickens.
In my experience, high value agriculture involves arguing in a foreign language (in this case, Russian) with two or more people, at ever increasing volumes. And at least one of those parties should be on a cell phone the entire time. This argument can range from two minutes to several days, and should almost reach the logical conclusion of one person throttling the other (or others) with a plastic shopping bag.
At some mutually agreed upon point (only slightly before the shopping bag is used with deadly intent) both parties will, with great flourish, remove certain papers, carefully selected, from the plastic bag. These papers are the placed on my card-table work station, carefully smoothing any wrinkles which may have resulted from striking their colleagues. The chosen pages will have a weathered, caramel patina, like an original copy of the Magna Carta, or Nick Nolte.
Additionally, the lower third should display a bruised rainbow of official stamps, which is a good opportunity to introduce the co-star of this lush drama, the stampila.
Nothing, and I mean that in the strictest definition, nothing is official here without at least one stampila being applied with great force and consideration. Stampila, for the uninitiated, are a small aluminum disk, about the size of a half-dollar, in two parts, which contains a persons private stamp.
I have heard, from fools, that this stamp is registered with the government and is similar to a business license. That is stupid. The stampila is a priceless relic and a birthright of select people. This is a fact. They are literally born with it, in a little pouch of skin, similar to a kangaroo’s pouch, where they will later wear a black vinyl fanny pack, for convenience.
Being born with a stampila is a great honor and burden, like being born with a superfluous nipple, or an extra set of teeth, behind the regular set, which flip forward, when necessary, like a sharks.
The stampila is applied to everything, but isn’t used willy-nilly. Anything another person might see, or be called upon to see, or asked if they have been called upon to see, gets a stampila. It’s quite simple. Some stampila also get stampila-ed. Some receipts get them, always with eye contact and a wink, which implies, “Save this valuable slip of paper, you will be visited, late at night, by officials who will demand proof your coffee mug was obtained legally.”
My next business project will be setting up a counterfeit stampila operation, kind of like a fake ID stand in Tijuana, but for disenfranchised Moldovans in place of thirsty high school students. Too long have the elite wielded the power of the mighty stampila! Let’s smash this glass ceiling! Let’s all get started in high value agriculture!
lostpaddle 