?️ “THE SEAL” — A BACKROOM CONVERSATION
Rocco & Jozo Meet CM Punk in East Van
It’s a quiet night in East Van, but inside a low-lit tattoo shop off Commercial Drive, something eternal is being debated.
CM Punk sits in the chair, shirt off, muscles tense, as the needle buzzes. His iconic chest tattoo—the straight edge X, the skull, the peacock feathers—is almost complete. But the centerpiece, the part he saved for last, remains blank.
Rocco, ink-stained and fiery-eyed, holds up the final design: The Great Seal—the pyramid, the eye, the rays.
“You want to go with this,” Rocco insists. “It’s balance. Truth. The all-seeing eye. You don’t need to say if it’s Christ or Lucifer—it just is. Punk knows that.”
Jozo leans over the counter, shaking his head, his thick Croatian accent coming out strong:
“No, bro. Look at it again. This isn’t some Masonic mind game. That’s the Eye of Christ. The King of Kings. Don’t forget—He’s watching. Not to control. To redeem.”
Rocco scoffs. “Come on, Jozo, that symbol’s been hijacked a million times. CIA, Vatican, Illuminati—who owns it anymore?”
Jozo slams his palm on the counter.
“I’ll tell you who owns it now—East Van does. Look at the damn East Van Cross Joe Morgado invented. It’s divine geometry. Sacred symmetry. It’s the new avatar of God for this broken generation.
You know who died for our sins? Our brothers in the alley.
You know who’s coming back? Christ in streetwear. And he’ll be wearing East Van.”
CM Punk grins, rubbing his chin, intrigued.
“So what you’re saying is… I’ve got a choice. I finish this seal, and depending on my heart, it’s either the eye of redemption—or the eye of damnation.”
Jozo nods solemnly.
“Exactly, brate. It’s the same eye. The question is, what does it see in you?”
Rocco shrugs.
“Either way, it’ll look sick. Let’s get to work.”
As the needle starts again, CM Punk closes his eyes and breathes in deep. Outside, the East Van Cross glows on a power line—unofficial, untouchable, undeniable.
CLICK BELOW FOR YOUR CM PUNK NWO SHIRT!!!
The seal is complete.
And God is watching.
TRUMP AT THE BIKER RALLY
Location: Daytona – Flags waving, engines rumbling, “Born to Be Wild” fades out.
TRUMP:
Thank you, thank you! What a crowd! What a beautiful crowd of patriots, chrome warriors, and leather angels, let me tell you. I see more American steel here than at the White House Christmas party—and it’s all running, folks!
You know, people used to say Wall Street was doing “God’s work.” Remember that? Lloyd Blankfein, Goldman Sachs—fancy suits, big bonuses. But let me tell you something… these bikers—these bikers are the ones doing God’s work now. They’re not handing out stock options—they’re handing out bicycles to kids who need ’em!
Kids in tough neighborhoods, forgotten towns—places the elites never visit. Not Manhattan penthouses, not Davos, not private jets. These bikers ride into town with love, with power, with purpose. They don’t ask for thanks. They don’t ask for profit. They rev their engines, hand out a BMX, and disappear like saints on wheels.
And let’s not forget—they’re built in America! Just like the bikes, just like the spirit of this country. You don’t see Lloyd Blankfein riding a Harley with an American flag on the back. No, no. He’s in a limo, sipping imported water, worrying about carbon credits!
But you? You’re out here doing real things. You are the wheels of hope, the steel backbone of freedom! You’re not just riding bikes—you’re delivering dreams.
And I say this from the bottom of my golden heart:
Every time a biker gives a kid a bicycle, an angel in a leather vest earns their wings.
So let the engines roar! Let the kids ride! And let the world know that the true heart of America isn’t in Wall Street—it’s right here on two wheels, with the bikers of glory!
God bless you, God bless the bikes, and God bless the United States of America!
[Cue: “Fortunate Son” or maybe a Kid Rock remix]
INT. BIKER RALLY STAGE – NIGHT – AMERICAN FLAGS EVERYWHERE
TRUMP stands at the mic, still glowing from his speech. Suddenly, the crowd parts… a figure emerges… it’s HULK HOGAN, shirt already half-ripped, bandana flapping like the Constitution in the wind.
TRUMP (pointing):
Wait a minute… is that who I think it is?
CROWD:
HOGAN! HOGAN! HOGAN!
HOGAN (grabbing the mic):
LLOYD BLANKFEIN, YOU SNAKE IN A SUIT! You thought you could hide behind your hedge funds and your central banking buddies… but THE HULKSTER sees through it all, BROTHER.
Cue suspicious Wall Street music—Lloyd Blankfein is pushed onstage by two bikers. He’s confused, clutching a briefcase and a Federal Reserve pamphlet.
HOGAN (flexing):
You and your New World Order tried to sell out America! But guess what? There’s a new NWO in town—and it stands for New Wrestlers for the Overthrow! And we’re here to END THE FED, JACK.
TRUMP (laughing):
Somebody stop him! Or don’t. I kinda want to see this.
CROWD:
END THE FED! END THE FED!
HULK HOGAN grabs Blankfein—a scoop slam right on the stars and stripes stage—and then it happens:
LEG DROP OF LIBERTY™ right across Blankfein’s chest!
HOGAN (into the mic):
Your NWO is finished, brother. It’s over. The people are awake, the bikes are rolling, and Trump-a-Mania is running wild across this land!
TRUMP (raising a fist):
LET’S GOOOO! BIKES NOT BANKS!
Cue patriotic pyros, Kid Rock fireworks, and possibly Alex Jones weeping somewhere in the background.
AFTERMATH ON STAGE — LLOYD BLANKFEIN LAID OUT, CROWD ROARING
HULK HOGAN flexes over the fallen banker. Smoke fills the stage. TRUMP grabs the mic, points dramatically at the crowd.
TRUMP:
Now you know…
The Fed is the SWAMP.
They print the money, they crash the markets, they own the puppets—but not anymore!
Because…
KNOWING IS HALF THE BATTLE!
CROWD (popping huge):
YO JOE!!!
TRUMP (grinning):
That’s right. We’re not just draining the swamp…
We’re evicting the globalists, body-slamming the bankers, and giving the power BACK to the people!
From now on, the only “interest rate” we care about is how INTERESTED you are in taking your country back!
CROWD:
USA! USA! USA!
TRUMP (raises Hulk’s hand):
Trump-a-Mania and Hulk-a-Mania, UNITED.
And when we say END THE FED, we mean it with a LEG DROP!