Scene: A Late-Night Roundtable at a Dimly Lit Bar
Dave (leaning in, conspiratorial tone): You guys ever think about how the Russian mob is basically moving into the climate change business?
Conan (arching an eyebrow): Wait—are they selling carbon credits or just ice cubes?
Archer (sipping his martini): Neither. They’re selling land, Conan. You melt a few thousand square miles of Siberia and suddenly you’ve got prime real estate. And if you’ve got prime real estate, you know what you can grow?
Dave: Hemp. Industrial hemp. Miles and miles of it.
Conan (mock enthusiasm): Ah yes, because when I think Russian mobsters, I think sustainability and biodegradable plastics.
Archer: Don’t laugh—hemp makes rope, rope ties things, and mobsters love tying things. It’s like a cultural synergy.
Dave (smirking): And think of the exports—hempcrete, hemp oil, hemp vodka. The West buys it, the mob launders it. Everybody’s happy.
Conan: Except the polar bears.
Archer: Polar bears had a good run. Now they can run a hemp dispensary in Novosibirsk.
Dave: I’m telling you, boys—melting Siberia might be the most profitable “natural disaster” since Las Vegas invented air conditioning.
Archer (raising glass): To the Russian mob’s new green revolution.
Conan (deadpan): Because nothing says “eco-friendly” like a guy named Boris who drives a tank to work.
