The Full Boof

American Patriot Brands began as The Grilled Cheese Truck, raised more than $30 million for a supposed cannabis empire, and ended with a federal judgment totaling nearly $43.9 million.

Trulieve, Curaleaf, Verano, a Green Thumb subsidiary, an AYR-linked holding company, and Ascend gave $11.5 million to a Trump-linked PAC, finally revealing who corporate cannabis thinks deserves social equity funding.

Spirit Halloween has launched a cannabis incubator for companies with national ambitions, unpaid vendors and roughly 90 days before the lenders take the furniture. The faculty includes executives from Cannabist, PharmaCann, AYR, TerrAscend and FLUENT.

An Ohio cannabis candy fraud case inspires the industry’s most honest edible yet: Investor Gummies, infused with projections, delusion, and the sudden urge to wire money before asking questions.

Missouri's next microbusiness licensing round is meant to expand access. Boof investigates the rich white cannabis hopefuls, consultants, and “hardship” experts turning equity into a two-day costume rehearsal.

Kentucky's Jason Nemes wants physicians and businesses prosecuted for following expanded qualifying conditions. The only problem? Every medical cannabis state in America has been following the exact same script for years.

North Carolina lawmakers want to protect young people from hemp-derived cannabinoids by restricting purchases to those 21 and older. The only problem? The state already trusts some teenagers with significantly more life-altering decisions.

After years of raids and promises to shut down illegal dispensaries, Los Angeles may have stumbled upon a simpler strategy: if you can't eliminate the black market, maybe it's time to send it an invoice.

After ignoring operators, economists, neighboring states, and basic arithmetic, Michigan officials are now investigating why their wholesale cannabis tax generated exactly the outcome everyone predicted.

Japan has banned CBN, a cannabinoid associated with relaxation and sleep, after regulators reportedly identified calmness as an emerging threat to productivity.

There’s a special kind of poetry in cannabis branding. The kind where everyone is “family,” everything is “hand crafted,” and the flower is supposedly kissed into existence by moonlight, good intentions, and a mission statement nobody can afford to question.

The entire C-suite of Wyld spent 4/20 not celebrating, not doing brand activations, not pretending to care about budtenders for once, but collectively getting stretchered out of HQ after eating their “first ever” edible. Yes. The people who run one of the biggest edible companies in America discovered edibles on 4/20 like a bunch of exchange students who thought a brownie “wouldn’t hit.”

The Invitations No One Wanted to Receive No one admits how nervous they were when the invites went out. They’ll joke about it now. Post about it. Laugh it off in Slack threads and group chats. But when those envelopes first landed, no return address, no branding, just a matte black card that read “You’ve been nominated. Attendance strongly recommended.”, people checked the categories twice. Some checked with legal. Others checked their last three product launches.

In a scene more predictable than a THC-infused seltzer brand posting a mocktail recipe nobody asked for, a cannabis CEO reportedly entered the marketing department today and unleashed the annual trauma trigger: “Sooo… what are we doing for 4/20?” Eyewitnesses say the room immediately filled with the sound of collective soul evaporation, described by OSHA as “similar to a Roomba choking on a gummy worm.”

A cannabis industry CEO confirmed this week that his bold strategy of sliding into women’s LinkedIn direct messages has produced exactly zero romantic outcomes, leaving the executive both confused and mildly offended.

LAS VEGAS - Tourists expecting neon excess at Planet 13 Las Vegas this weekend instead found something even more surreal: Dan Bilzerian behind the counter asking if they prefer sativa or “something chill.” Yes. That Dan.

In a stunning development that absolutely no one outside a cannabis executive Slack channel saw coming, several multi-state operators are now being sued by the Ohio Attorney General for allegedly doing the one thing capitalism is extremely clear about: Agreeing on prices. Together. On purpose.

In a bold legal maneuver straight out of the “Please Stop Looking at That” playbook, Trulieve is reportedly suing Ganja Leaks for $750,000 in defamation after videos surfaced showing mold in Trulieve grow facilities, allegedly filmed by a former employee who, crucially, did not invent the mold.