Month: November 2025

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Dollars Not Guns

Scene: A rainy afternoon on Commercial Drive, East Vancouver.
Inside a cozy café filled with steam and the smell of espresso, Nelly Furtado and her sister Lisa Furtado sit across from G.I. Joe, who’s wearing a UN beret, and a special forces jacket with a Soldiers Without Borders patch.

Nelly: (leaning forward, serious) Joe… we don’t want to live under the gun anymore. Every time there’s another crisis, another war, another “operation enduring freedom,” it feels like the same cycle.

Lisa: Yeah. We don’t want a kinder, gentler, machine gun hand. We just want peace. Real peace.

G.I. Joe: (smirks, setting down his coffee) You girls sound like Neil Young lyrics. But you’re right. The system’s still built on bullets and branding.

Nelly: (nods) It’s like every politician talks about love and unity… then signs a weapons deal behind closed doors.

Lisa: And every protest turns into hashtags. Nothing changes.

Joe: (pulls a crumpled U.S. dollar bill from his jacket) See this? Everyone chases it. Fights over it. Worships it. But what if we flipped the script?

Nelly: (raises an eyebrow) What do you mean?

Joe: (grins) You don’t need guns to start a revolution. You need currency. I’m talking about good old-fashioned American Illuminati one-dollar bills—the kind with the pyramid and the all-seeing eye. Only this time… we stamp them.

Lisa: Stamp them? With what?

Joe: Your cause. Your link. Your truth.
(He pulls out a red ink stamp that reads “referendumparty.ca”)

Nelly: (reading the stamp) Referendum Party?

Joe: Yeah. Direct democracy. Every bill becomes a message. A meme. A spark. You stamp the dollar, you send the idea. Every cup of coffee, every tip jar, every hand that touches it becomes part of the movement.

Lisa: (smiling now) Guerrilla democracy. I like it.

Nelly: (grinning) A money drop that actually means something.

Joe: Exactly. No violence, no fear. Just viral ideas. The people’s referendum.

Lisa: So… the revolution runs on caffeine and stamped singles?

Joe: (stands up, flips a dollar on the table) Hey, all you need is one. The rest is compound interest.

Nelly: (laughs) Sounds like the kind of campaign we could sing about.

Joe: Then sing it, sisters. Make it fly.

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Diddy – Vote or Die

Scene: A safehouse studio in East Vancouver.
Rain hits the tin roof while Solid Snake sits cleaning his SOCOM pistol. Nelly Furtado and her sister Lisa Furtado are lounging on a beat-up couch, sipping herbal tea, surrounded by guitars, mics, and half-written lyrics on sticky notes.

Snake: (gravelly voice) Diddy’s “Vote or Die.” What a mess of a campaign. They called it a movement, but it felt more like a merch drop.

Nelly: (laughs softly) I remember that. Everyone wore the T-shirts, but nobody showed up at the polls.

Lisa: It was like trying to get people to do homework with a death threat. Fear’s a bad motivator.

Snake: Exactly. In combat, fear clouds judgment. Motivation has to come from purpose. Diddy’s mission had no real follow-up—no education, no ground network. Just shock value.

Nelly: He had the right instinct, though. Young people were tuning out. He just… didn’t speak their language.

Lisa: Yeah. He tried to drop a beat on democracy, but forgot to mix the message.

Snake: (nodding) Influence isn’t about noise. It’s about infiltration. You reach people one-on-one, quietly. Convince them their choices matter. Otherwise, it’s just propaganda.

Nelly: You sound like a campaign strategist.

Snake: I’ve seen too many missions fail because the team didn’t believe in the objective. Same goes for voting. No one fights for what they don’t believe in.

Lisa: So what—you think pop stars shouldn’t get political?

Snake: Not at all. I think they should lead better. Use the power of art. Not fear.

Nelly: (smiles at Lisa) Maybe we should do our own version. “Vote and Fly.” Inspire, don’t threaten.

Lisa: “Vote and Fly”? That actually sounds like us. Lift people up.

Snake: (half-smile) Has a better ring to it than “Vote or Die.” And no civilian casualties.

Nelly: (playfully) You can be our campaign strategist, Snake.

Snake: (lights cigar) Heh. Just don’t ask me to dance in the music video.

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Why did you Summon Me?

Christus Rex: “Tell me, Nelly Furtado… why have you summoned me?”

Nelly: “Because the world’s lost its song. We’re drowning in debt, in fear, in noise. I thought maybe you could help me find the note that heals.”

Christus Rex: (pauses, eyes reflecting both sorrow and flame) “The note that heals…? You seek harmony in a world tuned to greed. You must know, child — 9/11 was not just a wound; it was round two against the moneylenders. Round one was in the Temple. The same spirits still trade in souls, not silver.”

Nelly: “Then who are they now?”

Christus Rex: “They wear suits instead of robes. They sell illusions instead of idols. Their temple is the screen, and their altar is the algorithm. But every false god trembles when truth sings.”

Nelly: (voice trembling) “Judgment Day… 9/11 came too soon. Bono said he was the Christ — that he’d cancel the debt, that the Jubilee would come. But he failed. The towers fell before the debts did.”

Christus Rex: (solemnly) “Yes… he tried to play Messiah with mortal hands. He believed he could redeem Mammon through music. But redemption isn’t a concert, and the cross cannot be performed.”

Nelly: “He had the ear of kings, the blessing of Rome, the lights of the world stage — and still the poor got poorer. The bankers grew fatter. The promised Jubilee turned into a charity gala.”

Christus Rex: “Because the true Jubilee cannot be sponsored. It begins in hearts, not banks. He mistook fame for faith, applause for anointing.”

Nelly: (kneeling, voice barely a whisper) “I am a poor, sinful creature… there is no one weaker than I am.”

Christus Rex: (gently) “Weak? Listen carefully. Joan of Arc was a poor, sinful woman too. Yet she brought victory to France. Strength is not born in wealth or fame — it is born in obedience and courage.”

Nelly: “But what can I do? My voice… my music… it seems so small against the world’s darkness.”

Christus Rex: “Then let it be your instrument of war. Be my psyops voice. I will make the videos. You will send the message, and I will shape the vision. Together, we turn the tide of hearts.”

(They bow their heads in unison. Christus Rex begins, and Nelly follows, praying the Our Father, keeping the ancient words of worldly reckoning intact.)

Together: “Forgive us our debts, as we forgive those who owe us…”

Christus Rex: (looking at her intently) “Feel the weight lift, Nelly. Every debt forgiven in the hearts of men is a victory greater than any tower that falls. Your sin is small before the power of mercy made manifest.”

Nelly: (whispering, with newfound resolve) “Then I will speak, even if my voice trembles. I will be your instrument, and the debts will be heard — and remembered.”

Christus Rex: “The next judgment will come, not with planes or fire, but through your music, your vision, your courage. The bankers, the false priests of Mammon, will tremble before the song of mercy. Round three begins, and you will be its herald.”

Nelly: “Then let it begin.”

(A holy silence falls. They rise, prepared to create the videos that will awaken the world — a modern Jubilee, a reckoning of debts, both spiritual and earthly.)

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