Em & Em

As I was driving home last night after work my tire blew-out on the highway. I took my foot off the gas, pumped my brakes gently, made it to the side of the road, got out the car and angrily slammed the car door. I was 15 minutes from home but too far to walk on the highway.


"Ain't this a bitch!!!" Fuck! Fuck!! Fuck!!!" I yelled.

My choices were either call AllState Road-Side service, or change the tire myself? I popped the trunk, got the jack, and pulled the tire out the wheel well of the trunk. It was cold, rainy and 18 wheelers were blowing by me at terrific speeds. I could feel the wind as the vehicles violently blew pass me. Changing a tire at night on the highway is dangerous. It was the front right wheel that blew out. After I jacked the car up, I put the jack to the wheel and started to un-loosen the lug nutz one at a time.

Finally, I had risen above my emotions, cleared my head and simplified the situation, it was a living math problem that had to be solved. The faster I changed the tire-the faster I'd get to the Kingdom. There was a ditch in back of me that ran parallel to the road, at first I paid it no mind, and then I saw a bluish, purple curcular light, not smokey, but smokey in texture. It was a spinning vortex in mid-air just a few yards past the ditch.

"What da fuck is that!?!" I asked myself curiously. It was a bright light approximately 6 feet in diameter and spinning slowly. It was UFO type shit but I wasn't high, drunk or dreaming-I'd just gotten off the justice cipher born and was perfectly sober. This shit was bugged da fuck out. I calmed myself, remembering that everything in this universe has a logical explanation. Walking closer with that 'white person in a horror flick' curiosity, armed with the investigative tool of Supreme Math, Supreme Alphabet, 120 and my .45 caliber I bravely investigated the strange spinning light.

The swirling of the bluish mist was hypnotic as I peered into the center of the bright vortex. The closer I got, the more I realized that what I was seeing was unexplanable by normal standards: strangely, I was drawn to it. I put my finger in it curiously and it shocked me, compelling me to further walk into it. I stepped into the vortex and stepped out the other-side. The next thing I know, it was broad-day light and I was in a completely different location.

"What da fuck!" I was standing in the middle of the street and a car was coming directly at me. Quickly, I dived to the side-walk, and the car that just missed hitting me angrily honked the horn at me as it sped by. I stood up, wiped myself off, and immediately recognized my surroundings. I was at the bridge that separated the Diamond Street Projects from my old neighborhood. The projects were still there, they had been torn down years ago. What the fuck was this? I'd just gotten off work that night in Ohio, and now I was back in Philly in the middle of the day? I squinted my eyes in complete confusion, because nothing was making sense and then I looked across the street and saw the young me walking my High School sweetheart, Rasheema home after school. It was me! I was looking at me!! It couldn't be-but it was me. I turned away quickly, so the young me wouldn't notice the old me.

Rasheema had on those big ass gold bamboo earings I had bought her. As I watched myself as a young man I could tell I was beginning to grit my teeth in a sneer, slowly turning on my ice grill, because I wasn't gonna tuck my dookie rope chain with the 'Dollar Bill' medalion in my shirt. I was walking into the projects boldly. Only pussies tuck their chain in. I wasn't gonna take off my rings. Fuck that! Ain't no niggaz gonna snatch my shit or my bitch's earings, at least while I was there. At that age I thought I was invincible. The old me could tell what the young me was thinking.

I started walking behind me causing the younger me to look back at the older me suspiciously. Da Young Emblem couldn't tell that it was himself that he was looking back at. I must have looked scary to my young self and Rasheema. I had on Rocawear jeans, and timz that were 25 years ahead of any clothes or boots made in the 80's. After a few hundred yards the young Emblem got tired of the old Emblem walking behind him. And the younger Em turned around confrontationally ready to fight.

"Yo-you got a problem old nigga, cause we can do this shit right now?" The young me screamed at the old me, squaring up, ready to fight as I came closer.

"It's me!" The old me said to the young me.

"Me who?" The young me asked.

"I'm you!" I said to da young God.

The young Emblem punched the old Emblem in the face fast as fuck with all them damn rings. Young Emblem hit me so hard that my eyes watered. Those young hands I had were fast as fuck! He let go three punches before I could get set and throw one.

"Kick his Old ass God!" Rasheema yelled.

"Rasheema, it's me!" I yelled at my ex high school sweetheart.

"Stop! Who is you, and how you know my name nigga?" Rasheema asked me, cautiously moving closer.

"The two teenagers looked at me closely! I'm you young God." I said to my young self, holding my face in pain. Rasheema goose-necked even closer, as the young me put his hands down, relaxing from his boxing stance. He looked at his older self with a raised and furrowed brow. Rasheema figured it out first and it scared the shit out of her-her eyes opened up wide with horror. It freaked her out. She didn't understand and ran into her project building as if she had seen a ghost.

"What da fuck???!!!" The young me mouthed in utter amazement. You- me? You're really me? How da fuck is this even possible?"

"I don't know. I was changing a tire at night and somehow got caught up in some sort of vortex and was transported back to this time."

"What year did you come from?" the young Em asked.

"2011. I'm 42 years old! What year is it now?."

"It's 1987, I'm 17 almost 18. "

"What's 2011 like?" I asked the older me as We began to walk back to my old neighborhood.

"Well for one: we got a black President."

"Get da fuck outta here! A Black President?"

"Barack Obama! Yelp! No bullshit."

"He a muslim or something?"

"I don't know, but he's black-got a caesar fade, a black wife with a perm, fat ass and the whole nine."

Did I ever finish 120?" I asked myself .

"Young God you got one of the sharpest recitals of 120 on the fucking Planet Earth and your understanding ain't too bad either."

"Are you serious?" The younger me said with a goofey, surprised grin.

"I shit you-not!" I told my young self confidently. "As the future approaches I think it would be wise if I shared with you some valuable info regarding our future."

"What's going to happen? Are me and Rasheema still going to be together?"

"Little Nigga are you crazy!?! She's gonna be throwin' pussy out of both legs as soon as you go away to college. I hate to break your little heart young God." Puttin' the news to myself bluntly.

The younger me stopped walking, his jaw dropped in shock. What was my past was his future. Young Emblem started crying. I forgot how much he had cared for his high school sweetheart Rasheema, how they had planned their lives, and vowed to stay together forever. Ahhh-the innocence and naivite' of puppy love. I gave my young self a comforting hug like a Father to a Son. I didn't mean to hurt my feelings.

"Look, young God she is not even the one you're gonna marry, or have a son or for that matter divorce."

"I'm gonna get a divorce!!!"

I made the young God cry even harder. In less than a minute, I told him his High School sweetheart was not gonna be with him forever, and that a woman he has yet to meet would be his wife, have a child by him and that they would eventually get divorced. I was dropping too much total weight on myself at one time. How much was I changing the future by telling myself about the future? Did I just wipe-out my son's existence by telling myself about the trials and tribulations of future relationships before they happened?

I had to cheer myself up-I couldn't leave myself in tears. So, I had a plan: change the future.

"You'll eventually find the right wisdom for you, she's about six or seven years old right now, so be patient. Also you're gonna be a billionaire." You're gonna have a company called Microsoft, and a social network called 'facebook'. It's the new crack. In order to do this, you're gonna have to study math and computer science diligently and stop selling drugs. 18 year old Emblem went into his pocket and pulled out a G-pack of crack viles.

"Hell naw nigga! I gotta get this pack sold old nigga!" The young me said defiantly.

"Fuck that drug shit young God. Everything that seems cool now is corny in the future. All those damn gold rings, that dookie rope, the Gucci glasses, those jeans, those Adidas will be corny in the future. Everything. Cool quickly becomes corny as time passes. 120 is peace, take it undercap and whatnot but whatever you do, don't become a religious zealot with that shit. Remember: niggaz is niggaz! Read books on computer programming, master real math and learn everything you can about computer science and the future will be yours."

"I'm not really interested in computers. Right now I'm on the culture degree in the 1-14. I'm interested in my lessons."

When he said that, I pulled out my Blackberry and showed young Emblem.

"This is high mathematics in the palm of your hand. Your culture degree builds on '...where knowledge and wisdom of the original man started...' well right here and right now I'm telling you to go at that Knowledge and Wisdom real hard. That knowledge and wisdom is Math and Science little nigga. Real Math-not that all being born shit. The math and science class you've been falling asleep in from time to time-you gotta wake up." I was adament as I told the young Emblem what the deal was for-real-for-real!

"So What is it? A pager?" The young me asked with a perplexing look on his face as he took the strange device under perusal. "This looks like some Star Trek shit!" He said.

"Now cipher! It's not a pager. It's a Blackberry smartphone, a computer, it's a MP3, Video camera and whatever else."

"What's an MP3?"

"A Sony Walkman but smaller and better." At that moment the vortex opened up in front of us. I couldn't tell myself everything I wanted to because this might be my only chance to get back to 2011.

"You keep it-it's called a Blackberry-study it, play with it, and don't break it."

I took the phone charger out of my pocket and gave it to the young Emblem.

"When I get back to the future I'm gonna call you. Remember what I said, 'Microsoft' and 'facebook'-it's gonna be da new crack. Don't tell nobody. Peace Young God!"

"Peace!" The young me said to the old me throwing the peace sign.

I stepped into the vortex and came out the otherside again. I didn't go back to the future, intead I went further into the past. When I came out the vortex I saw a six year old big headed boy playing with two pieces of steel. I knew it was Yacob. I pulled out my .45, and put it to his big ass dome. The darkskinned child looked at me innocently with no fear in his eyes and I considered what would be different if I pulled the trigger and murdered the innocent looking six year old.

EM

Qualifications & Disqualifications of Trading Post Behaviors

Geo-Politics is a very real chess game taking place all over the Planet Earth. International politics is worthy of examination and a subject that all Original People should take under study, particularly for all those who claim to be members of a said nation. No nation can afford to overlook the movements, activities and global incursions of another nation-that'z like not paying attention to the chessboard. "Ooops! You lost your rook bitch-give me dat."

Expand knowledge wisdom cipher into an international paradigm and examine the political economy of other Nations. 'Nation' in the knowledge culture degree in the Supreme Alphabet points to the fact that other Nations on this Planet are worthy of study 'Now' or your ass is going to 'End'.

Recently, I did the knowledge to China's currency relative to American imports, and Chinese exports into the U.S.. How did such a study begin? It began in the Electronics department at Walmart while I was looking at flatscreens. I actually bought one of the first flatscreens when they were still rather expensive and was amazed at how cheap they had become. I looked at the friendly white dude's name tag and asked Roy, "Are any of these TV's made in America?" He gave me that look white people give you when they don't want to tell you the God's honest truth, but have no other choice. Roy winced uncomfortably as if he had to take a shit in a public bathroom, and said, "I'm afraid not!"

Well Roy better be afraid - be real fucking afraid Roy! Why should Roy be afraid? Because China has a venomous currency slithering around the globe like fucking monopoly money. The build degree says "...certain layers of currents are real cold and warm and some are very swift and changeable..." Let's call 'current'-'currency'. China's currency is called the 'Renminbi' or 'Yuan'-Yuan is a unit of the 'Renmimbi'. America has the dollar and the Asiatic Yellow man has the 'Renminbi'. "Cash Rules Everything Around Me, CREAM get the Money: Renminbi-Renminbi to buy some shrimp fried rice yallll."

I'm not a member of Wu-Tang nor am I a political-economist, however there are certain rules that govern the protocols of international currency exchange at the trading post set up between the Nations of The Planet Earth. What is the rate of exchange between the Renminbi and the Dollar? Rates fluctuate daily b.u.t. the Renmimbi is comparatively rediculously low relative to the Dollar bringing us to the fact that certain layers of currents are very swift and changeable. The Chinese keep their currency devalued and also keep their citizens extremely poor, which is just another hard round drop in form of a 'rich slave maker', proving that Capitalism and Communism are both very brutal, violent filthy affairs for both economic dirty religions.

Wisdom cipher years ago I read an article for a Political Science class: 'International Affairs 301'. The article was entitled "China's Dirty Practices". It wasn't a political propaganda piece-it was an academic research piece that exposed the Chinese Elite. The Elite of China exist as members of the Officers' Corps in the Chinese Liberation Army. They make-up what the Gods and Earths would define as China's 10 percent. The People's Republic of China is definitely a 'For Profit' political entity even though they consider themselves 'communist'.

Governmental control of a given population relative to the civil liberties of it's citizens is a social equation determined by who is in control of the military. That's just a fancy way of saying "He who has the Guns of a country getz what the fuck he wants." At the daily trading post of international currency markets China makes false economic interpretations and the Chinese Government intentionally devalues it's currency, which plunges their people into a deliberate socially engineered poverty and thus China's industrialist make themselves rich from the labor of their own 85 percent populace. The same formula is mentioned in knowledge wisdom cipher. Hmmmm!

The Chinese produce more, pay less to their labor force and export to other countries at unequal rates of exchange because what seems to be a devalued 'renminbi' bolsters both the Gross Domestic production in China and increases foreign demand for massive Chinese exports to other countries such as the U.S.. These other countries are interested in selling products to China, but a Hummer, BMW, or Benz, would just sit idle on a car-lot in China. A toothless Chinamen on a bicycle 'ain't got' money for teeth least of all the disposable income necessary to purchase a 'Hummer'.

China controls the international rates of exchange of it's currency, intentionally keeping their currency devalued and making it rather difficult for the average Chinese citizen to save a significant nest egg relative to any substantial market value of any notable international standard.

At the International trading post an economic cold war is being fought: American companies would love to have Supreme Chinese clientele, but the Children Of Bhudda are unable to absorb American retail imports at the same rate that Americans absorb retail shit Made in China. China keeps America apart from their social equality. Can you blame 'em? This occurs because of the insignificant domestic purchasing power of the Chinese 'Renminbi' or 'Yuan'. Americans make nothing that the Chinese can afford to buy on a retail level. In defense of American trade-American exports to China are aimed primarily at China's industrial manufacturing sectors. In terms of the retail sector such as textiles-China isn't responsible for transforming America into a Nation of consumers. Americans have been socially programmed to consume blindly regardless of whom or what. China has however added another dimension to the diet of American retail consumption via their imports. America is gradually becoming one big National Mega Mall with Chinese made products taking up shelf space at Target, Walmart and every other feeding troth where U.S. consumers consume.

In the basic scheme of things it can be said that, "China Got Economic Game!" They have Pepsi, Pizza, smart phones and a thriving criminal culture in urban areas, equipped with everything from drugs to whorehouses. China has hoods(West side!!!) and the 'hood' is the 'hood' regardless of whom, where or what. The Chinese government rigidly controls what's going on and how shit goes down on their economic, social, political and 'internet' side of the street.

What happens in China stays da fuck in China!!! China is handling their own political and economic business. If they need to play strategic games with their currency, then that'z their fucking business. The problem is-is that the U.S. hasn't come up with a contingent economic strategy to counteract Chinese economic onslaught. The U.S. claims Capitalism and its free market system to be the best economic religion in the world but in the same breath owe China a few trillion dollars. What da fuck?! That's like the Crips owing the Bloods. American Industrialist have a hard-on for Chinese Pussy but China Doll refuses to open up those economic thighs to American Industrialist to sell a Billion Chinese consumers Yankee caps, Ford F150's, Coca-Cola, Budweiser, and Big Macs. China said at the G-20 conference, "Fuck that! We're Gonna groom and grow our economy in our own Good Time and continue to give you Yankee pride movafuckuz limited access to our consumer markets." When the Chinese dude Hu came through to kick it last month wit Michelle and Barack-Barack in his exact words said, "We want to sell you stuff!" Hu then replied while exhaling a blunt, "My name is 'Hu' not 'Hoe' nigga, and I'm a Hustla homie not a Customer Chronie!"

What does all this mean Em? What dis got to do with 120 and the corner I'm standing on God?

First, open up your third-and then your third degree in your knowledge to knowledge the culture. "...and knowing every square inch of it ('HER')..." Pay close attention to the global chessboard. Do the knowledge to the knowledge degree and the reality of 'Maker' and peep the wisdom God and what it involves: 'What was the name of the place where the devil was 'manufactured'?' For any Nation to become industrialized-it must 'make' and 'manufacture' shit. Vertical manufacturing is when you transform a raw natural resource into a refined finished product to be bought and sold at home and abroad. The process of vertical manufacturing creates jobs and ultimately this is what real industrialized Nations do to build economies. America has failed it's ownself industrially, and while the Colored Man remains the 'devil' to those of the Asiatic creed living in the Wilderness Of North America the colored man's economic house is burning while Original Asiatics who rent a room in the house are singing, "The roof! The roof! The roof is on fire, we don't need no water let the movafucka burn-burn movafucka. Burn!" Personally, I don't want to be in any movafuckin house that's on fire. I don't advocate the expiration of colored people-I advocate the expiration date of devil civilization.

Understanding Power:

Tell Us The Exact Expiration Date Of The 'Devil Civilization'?

Ans: Expire Knowledge Born Knowledge Culture Freedom

Notice that the above degree states 'devil civilization' and not 'colored people'. Devil civilization is colorless, it's a social, political and economic practice of governing that governments around the world employ regardless of whether or not their economic ideology is communism or capitalism. 'Devilishment' is independent of any race, creed, religion, ethnicity, individual, governmental structure, nationality or economic philosophy. If said government encourages blood sucking, and refuses to cultivate the innate potential of it's every citizen then it is devil civilization. Democrat, Republican, Tea Party, Communist Party, RBG, NGE, NOI or Taliban-whatever the political ideology or acronym of a regime is-if said governing body does not practice righteousness and does not act in the capacity of service to the human family it will 'expire', whether it's China, Egypt, America, Iran, North Korea, Europe, Pakistan, Nigeria, India, Sudan, Afghanistan or The People's Republic of The North Fucking Pole.

...And Knowing Every Square Inch...,

EMBLEM

Iconoclastic-Gate-Keepers

The Ten Percent Use Those Who Are Successful In Their Undertakings To Make Interpretations To U N I:

One insignia defines the 'Jordan' brand. The picture of MJ with his legs stretched like an upside down 'v', while his upper torso is erect, and his arm stretched, palming a basketball that he's ready to jam. When I see the actual Jordan film footage of that dunk-I get chills reminiscent of the chills one gets when they hear the Martin Luther King Jr., "I have a dream' speech. The icon of MJ resonates in the unconscious of most Americans, it's instantly recognizable. To achieve that status is the determined idea of so many players. The Miami Heat are starting to gel as a team, over the next decade will they achieve 90's Bulls' status? If they surpass the Bulls in the number of Championships; will they achieve 'Dynasty' status? Will Lebron ever eclipse the greatness of MJ? A more appropriate question: will Kobe ever obtain a sixth ring to equal MJ's 'ring count'? Even if he does, could he ever spearhead a brand that transcends the vintage 'Jordan' brand? Aside from MJ murdering a room full of white women-the insignia that defines 'MJ' will continue daily to sell itself. Why? Because MJ's symbol is an integral part of marketing at Nike. The commercial jingle, 'Like Mike-if I could be like Mike' is a mantra running on an unconscious auditory loop, continuously playing in the mind's of Nike consumers.

Oprah is not a beauty Queen, she's on the chunky side of the chocolate chip cookie and obviously ignores the vegan isle in the Super Market, but regardless of whom or what her show has taken the world on a 25 year journey. She's every white woman's best friend and every black woman's sister. Her name has become synonymous with wealth and tears. Oprah literally made Mike Tyson cry like a 12 year old girl. A 'good cry' on Oprah is a Rites of Passage on the landscape of the occasional celebrity meltdown. You are not on the A-list of celebs until you've chatted with Oprah. She owns her own magazine in which she graces the cover every single month and now she owns her own cable Network. A media mogul, black woman billionairess: Oprah is an Icon that tells everyone in America "that you to can have extreme material success." Will they receive just as much gold as Oprah? No, they'll be lucky if they get a ticket to be a part of her studio audience.

How do the 10 percent use icons?

Ans: Social Icons are gate-keepers, who use their star power to influence 85 percent behavior on behalf of the 10 percent.

"They continue daily to teach the 85 percent that all they 'see' and 'hear' such ass rain, hail, snow and Earthquakes comes from that Mystery God that no one will be able to see until he dies. This is believed by the 85 percent...."

Major and minor icons are corporate messengers who sell hope among other things to the 85 percent.

Every young black male who can lightweight hoop on a competitive level, laces his shoes up with the hopes that one day-with practice, that their game will become 'Kobe-ish, 'Lebronish', or 'Jordanesque'. These modern athletic icons represent a standard of excellence on the court, and have become models and spokespersons used to persuade us to buy everything from sneakers, to underwear, to sports drinks. Mike, Kobe, and Lebron have tapped their innate gift of pure athleticism and have obtained 'Cream' status-'Cream Status' is when one has risen to the square cipher power of any given field of endeavor.

Corporations contract celebrities to endorse their products, who in turn encourage consumers to purchase these products. The consumer identifies with the celebrity endorsing the product. Using major icons is a very effective psychological marketing strategy because a 'star' draws the demand up in from the fine mist of the unconscious to the conscious realm of the consumer.

I write this piece while wearing a pair of Roc-a-Wear jeans, and a pair of Timz. My identification with the Timberland brand is a purely environmental attachment going back at least 20 years of my personal Quran. I wear Timz because as a teenager, everybody I grew up with wore Timz-that'z the only reason I wear them. The devil has taught me how to consume Timberlands mindlessly for no apparent reason. Why do I buy Timz? At least 10 years worth of old Timberlands align the shelves of my storage closet like trophies. That'z Mind Control. Emblem is a fucking Timberland Zombie.

"...without falling victim to the devil civilization, otherwise to show and prove that Allah is God, always has been, always will be....", Basically, we all do trading with devil civilization and most of us sure as hell don't kill the devil as quick. We 'eat' from the table of Devil civilization everyday. Devil civilization provides food, clothing and shelter. We have a few community farms as original people, B.U.T. not enough to meet the needs of the total population of the Asiatic Nation in the Wilderness. Mostly, we get our meals from the trading Posts of Devil Civilization. Asiatic society is still a 'work' very much in progress.
Asiatic citizens purchase God, Build and Born jewels at the Trading posts of the devil civilization and minor Icons such as athletes, actors, actresses, rappers, singers and political personalities make interpretations that standardize the status quo of the American dream daily. The media casts the personalities before us and we purchase into and get drawn up by the unholy current of air called 'consumerism'. The image of the Icon is used as a tool to make us a slave from mental death and power-bound by the R-O-P-E of 'brand'loyalty. Corporations hire Iconoclastic Gate-Keepers that hold the keys to the mental prison house of consumer behavior.

There are conspiratorial theories regarding 'mind control'-b.u.t. when you examine, qualify and disqualify every square inch of your own behavior-you'll see that your own behavior, in many cases, is already mentally controlled by some thriving corporate wild beast in devil civilization.

Reasonable Doubt is one of my all time favorite Hip Hop albums and everyday I wear Roc-a-wear jeans, cuffed over a pair of timz. Why? Only, because Reasonable Doubt was/is a tight album? What do Jay-z's 'genes' have to with my patronage of his brand? Nothing really! I mindlessly bought into Hova's 'brand'. Now, as I stare at the consumer in the mirror-I can see my own controlled mind and don't feel the need to take much interest in a wild conspiracy theory. Mind Control happens everyday, no secret laser beams, just some good ole fashioned Nike Commercials with MJ dunking, and then gulping Gatorade. I'm thirsty now!

Da God Em is wearing a pair of Hova's Jeans, with a pair of Timberlands on 'because'? And sipping Gatorade, displaying that I'm the piece without the magnetic sometimes. Pins run deep.

McDonald's, also known as the Golden Arches, or Mickey D's have the wrong food on tap daily. The pin of the Golden Arches is planted deep in the heads of babies: EARLY!!! A baby can spot the Golden Arches from a car-seat a mile away. " Ma, I want McDonaldsssssssss." It's true that I associate traumatic experiences with the metaphorical nurse's pin- it should also be noted, that conditioned behaviors, resulting from social stimuli is also a form of the nurse's pin. A loyal consumer mindlessly identifies with the idea of 'brand'. Brand loyalty is a controlled behavior, a conditioning, resulting from the phrase in the knowledge understanding degree, "They continue daily..."

Corporations who sell goods and services rely upon pop culture icons to become corporate pitchmen or spokespersons. The pitchmen are sent by the trader to interpret to the consumer why they should purchase a given item. With the purchase of the item the consumer unconsciously purchases into the persona of said athlete, rapper, actor, or beauty queen. The products that are pitched to the consumer are made to appeal to the consumers sense of vanity-vanity is a rash that grows on the ego, positively rewarding and reinforcing the inclinations of the ego.

Stereotypically, hypnotist swing medallions back and forth in front of the eyes of the subject supposedly being hypnotized. Today's pop culture Icons swing trinkets before our eyes and we fall asleep, and become psychologically defenseless, lose the knowledge of Self and become a savage in the pursuit of.... Post hypnotic suggestions are planted into the unconscious mind of all of us, including Emblem. And Emblem goes out and buys another pair of Timz. Why?

"Because"

"Because, What?"

Peace

Em