Yeep. I wanna say mag/po issue? Given the silvery appearance I also want to suggest thrips. If no insects or insect shit can be found then we need to address your inoculants and potassium.
Night after night, dinners with Herb Cohen, thrill-packed, fun-filled evenings, on the French Riviera at the Midem convention, a beige tie, the whole bit, watch Mutt eat and Leon feed the geese, one thousand green business cards with your name and the wrong address plus six royalty statements, inspected and customized by Rantoon Tan, Hantoon Frammin, and Dee, followed by twelve potential sucides, as the members of your group, past and present, find out they can't collect unemployment? A dog, a car, an epidemic of body lice, and your own record company, your name on the door, electric buzzer to the inner office, and a three month supply of German bookings with tickets on Air Rangoon. Does this kind of life look interesting to you? As a fake cannabis grower in a commercially licensed cultivation op?