INT. STUDIO APARTMENT – NIGHT
CODY packs and rolls a cigarette paper with hash and ground cannabis flower. The room is redolent with an oily skunkiness. Curtains drawn. Littering the coffee table are books bearing titles like The Occult and Symbols of Freemasonry. He wets his lips, licks the adhesive strip, twists off the joint, and holds it out to light with a Bic. He takes a deep drag and blows 3-5 smoke rings before exhaling fully.
CODY
Feel like we’re losing the plot a little. You want to do what exactly? A history of monetary policy?
CODY (HASH INFUSED)
Man, d’you know how powerful the Federal Reserve is, man? D’you know about Bretton Woods, man? The petro-dollar? And now with COVID as cover, Jay Powell is letting that money printer just brrrr away, man, infusing the securities market with free cash and no aid given to the Little Guy, man. You don’t think that’s worth worrying about?
CODY
Maybe, but, what, we’re gonna be anti-fiat crypto guys? Goldbugs? I don’t like thinking about the market at all.
CODY (HASH INFUSED)
Man, you need to open up your Third Eye, brother.
CODY
Wasn’t the concept of a Third Eye popularized by Blavatsky’s descriptions of the Lemurians? And we all know who loved Theosophy so much they adopted their little cross symbol.
CODY (HASH INFUSED)
You mean the Hindu symbol for “peace”?
CODY
Don’t play dumb, man.
Another long drag off the joint, with a wistful (suspicious?) glance over the shoulder.
CODY (holding in smoke)
Why d’you think Q stopped posting, man?
CODY (HASH INFUSED) (exhaling)
Pssssh, man, how much time you got?
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