Dipset

Cam'ron of Dipset is the brand new spokesman—sorry, person—for the American Death Industry. He believes that this verifies to spokesperson-watchers—who are, we are all aware, legion and shit—that he is a man of great intellectual heft. Finally, he will be taken seriously. He wakes up every day with a renewed sense of self.

His new self engages in mirror conversation with the old, less-respected-for-his-gravitas Cam'ron.

A tree in the yard, privy to the nuances of the conversation, dies.

The soul of the tree reaches the center of the Earth, where its roots are plugged into the soul of the rest of the world.

The rest of the world survives an attack by the soul of the tree killed by the subtext of self-doubt that occurred during Cam'ron's conversation with himself in the mirror.

The soul of the world takes its revenge by destroying all trees the world over. As the trees the world over wither, Cam'ron boards a helicopter—an ex-military helicopter that was purchased by the American Death Industry to transport its spokespeople—and is flown to Providence, Rhode Island, where he meets with the American Death Industry and is shot in the face.

Dipset, motherfucker.

***

Blake wrote a bunch of pieces about famous dead people. I have been writing responses. Above is my response to his piece on Tupac.

(I have one left, Blake. Then we should find a publisher.)

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I miss pills. I stopped taking pills. I think I should start taking pills again.

What do you think?

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Daniel Bailey's east central indiana. It is good.