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September 16, 2020 | Into the Smoke

A best-selling Canadian author of 14 books on economic trends, real estate, the financial crisis, personal finance strategies, taxation and politics. Nationally-known speaker and lecturer on macroeconomics, the housing market and investment techniques. He is a licensed Investment Advisor with a fee-based, no-commission Toronto-based practice serving clients across Canada.

Kicked off some major media web sites for being such a tool, he landed here. Over the next four or five years Smoking Man dropped thousands of comments on this blog. At least half of them were obscene, libelous, incendiary or unintelligible. Especially the drunken, overnight ones. SM became the most Deleted person in blog dog history.

The others were always acerbic, sometimes profound, bordering on prophetic. He called for a Trump win when the guy was still riding down his elevator and labeling Mexicans murderers. He mercilessly raked former banker colleagues on Bay Street. He wrote the worst book possibly ever penned, then insisted on trying to publish pieces of it here, hoping I wouldn’t notice. He attempted to humble, humiliate, embarrass and torment me. Then he sent me creepy emails (at night, drunken) to say he loved me.

When I wrote about Dorothy one day, this was his nocturnal message:

Garth, she is beauty. I know she hates my character. I wanted to say nicer things but I love being the bad man on the can’t bend what you can’t offend..

Your lucky, you got a good woman at your side.. It’s all you need. Everything is a risk on adventure after that.

Why you got into politics beats me.. You can’t the machine. What is wrong with you? Guess you figured it out the hard way……

Congrats, you ugly bearded freak…

Smoking Man was a persona. Or was it? Was Jim Stojsin really dyslexic, or just pretending? Did he actually make millions trading forex in his wife’s name after perfectly timing his Toronto real estate sale and moving onto a California beach? Or was that fiction?

Once day three years ago he materialized, coming to visit me at my country general store, wearing Wal-Mart flip flops and driving a runt pickup with a broken windshield.

Just before the virus arrived, he went silent. I sent a note. The response: “Hello Garth this is Jim’s wife Brenda.  It’s been a tough road for Jim and I.  We were living an incredible life in California when terrible and tragic events occurred.  When he’s up to it he will let you know.  Meanwhile keep him in your prayers.”

Hours later SM sent this: “I want to send something. Just need some time to put words together. This thing is a bitch.”

Last Sunday, says daughter Amy, Jim died of brain cancer. At 61.

She sent his obituary:

Jim and his wife Brenda spent 2 fabulous years in Corona Del Mar, CA after Jim landed his dream job. Sadly, their time was cut short when Jim was rushed into emergency brain surgery in California. After, he had to return home to Canada and fight for his life, not able to return to his home away from home. He enjoyed the last few months of his life surrounded by his loved ones, seeking as much quality time and adventure as his body would permit.

Jim was a loving husband, devoted father, published author, conspiracy theorist, blog writer , alien hunter, animal lover and self-taught computer guru. Jim was not your average man, he pushed the envelope, thought independently, and walked to the beat of his own drum, all things that made others love the man they endearingly called “BigStoj”.

“Remember when you were young
You shone like the sun
Shine on you crazy diamond” – Pink Floyd

Amy also said she was going through his laptop, “and found a final blog post that mentions you. It seems that he meant to post it. We were wondering if we sent it to you if you would publish it?”

Here are Smoking Man’s final words.

It must have started in September of 2019. I came here to post words would not flow, I imagined that I had grand essay only to catch it the next day one or two sentences.

Just did New Year 2019. Wife’s forex account screaming green. Complete bragging rights for Greater Fool, was trying to figure out a way to link the P&L sheet with out Garth knowing about it.

Next thing I know I wake up at the Hoag hospital in Newport Beach to the news that if I’m lucky, I get to live 1 to 5 more years. Brain Cancer.

Man does that change your priorities, even typing this little blurb while in treatment is almost impossible, good thing my phone does the typing, I just talk to it. It’s retarded but it works.

In a short span of time I’ve gone from a make money Maverick to a how much time do I have left. Take in the views, plan the next vacation before it’s to late, start helping other’s.

I never planned on living as long as my parents, was brutal on me watching them melt. Now the odds of me making it to 65 are clearly against me. Never saw that coming. But it is what it is.

I just want to thank you dogs for putting up with all my shit over the years, I think I’m a great troll but who knows who cares. Those days are over.

Indeed they are. And I regret that. It’s now a worse world.

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September 16th, 2020

Posted In: The Greater Fool

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