Juan Santo started off raising crops in the Danish West Indies. Then as the business grew so did Mr. Santo's ambitions. Mr. Santo was know by many names; Don Juan Santo, Don the Man Santo, but most often he just went by the name Muan Santo. Muan Santo got his hands in local government and kept in touch with politicians on the hill. The money he got from his crops he quickly replanted in the pockets of the chief of police and local politicians.
With business booming he knew the only way to grow was to capture a broader market. He had his eye on moving and looked for a new place to base his business. A place where law-and-order and justice-for-all was just a code name for morally-corrupt and welcome to the land where capitalism is king. Muan Santo knew right where he needed to go.
Muan Santo no longer had the bother of customs and coast guard payoffs or the transportation costs from his new location smack dab in the center of the midwest US of A. His headquarters was in Creve Coer Missouri were he thought to divert piles of cash into the hands of local politicians and police. No better way to take control than to get people to take dirty money and lots of it. All in the name of bettering the community for ones self of course. Muan Santo continued with their successful business model, and with the wheels greased and all the pegs falling properly in place the sky was the limit. No one dared contend with Muan Santo, and so the business grew by leaps and bounds.
The hybrids he had developed in the West Indies grew tall and strong in the humid hot Missouri summers. Muan Santo had the best and most potent crop, and found the local growers unorganized and easy to bring aboard or get rid of. With the proper payoffs he got the government to give him lucrative contracts for hemp for war efforts. He got politicians to pass laws to legalize use for medicinal purposes. Laws got passed so Muan Santo could patent the genetic footprint of all their hybrid plant varieties. If that wasn't enough Muan Santo even got subsidies from the government in the guise of a farmer's aid bill. Muan Santo was now set to plant everywhere, and anywhere.
What land Muan Santo couldn't take outright, got sucked away by proxy. The wind and weather spread Muan Santo plants-on-steroids far and wide, contaminating neighbor farms fertile fields like the wild weed they were. The farmers had to leave these invading foot soldiers to grow and multiply on their land in silent fury or face reprisal and persecution from Muan Santo gang members. If they were caught trying to pull them out they'd be arrested for harvesting. Defending oneself from accusations of being an unlicensed grower and a patent thief became an rather tiresome and unproductive pastime for more and more farmers. With Muan Santo owning patent on all the seeds, the farmer couldn't collect the seeds, plant them, and partake in this profitable harvest without the real probability of a Muan Santo lawsuit, litigation, and the real fear and possibility of losing the ranch.
And if that isn't bad enough, if a neighboring Muan Santo field were to cross pollinate with your heirloom seed crop you can't harvest and plant seeds from your own crop. Your crop is contaminated by Muan Santo and instead of being able to sue them, they'll be bringing you to court for harvesting seeds because they now contain part and parcel of Muan Santo's hybrid plant DNA. The present situation is unprecedented, at least since the time of serfdom. Farmers have either sold out or lost their land to Muan Santo. And so it goes, such is the sorry state we find ourselves in today.
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