George Clooney has it all. The villa on Lake Como, the Hollywood halo, the tequila fortune.

And now — apparently — a farm . He grows olives, you see. Presses them into artisanal oil. Talks lovingly about “the land.”

In Ireland, farmer suicide rates are among the highest in the country. In America, it’s even worse. Farming isn’t just lonely — it’s a daily battle against debt, drought, and despair.

It’s the sort of thing the lifestyle press laps up. The movie star who’s “gone back to nature,” barefoot among the groves, a rake in both senses of the word. But as someone raised on an actual farm in Ireland, I can’t help but laugh. Calling Clooney a farmer is like calling yourself a surgeon because you once removed a splinter with tweezers.

Knee-deep in muck

My father’s a real farmer.

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