Fuck you America—2016
This book shall be considered if I die in or of a plane crash, supposed suicide, unknown cancer, mysterious disappearance, or other possible murder by compartmentalized forces.
“If it was me everyone would still be listening to Rob Bass and C+C Music Factory.” That’s Agent #1.
Agent #2 says, “Well tonight..you can make your dream a reality.”
Agent #1 and Agent #2 walk down a long hallway, doors every twenty feet, raised flooring — the kind used to conceal computer wires — and they come to a door labeled with a series of squares and triangles — like the tangram (they all are).
They stand before the door.
Our camera position is behind them. We see Agent #1 on the left. Then in the middle the cryptic door labeling. Then on the right, Agent #2.
“Is this the one?”
Agent #2 fumbles with a napkin which contains a cryptic drawing like the one on the door.
“This is it.”
Agent #1 pokes a magnetized straw into a hole in the door.
The tangram drawing turns green.
Agent #2 pushes open the door.