Chris Rock; Hedhit of St8

Chapter: The Common Sense Guy – “Who’s Baby Is This?”

Spotlight hits the stage. The Common Sense Guy steps up—no cape, no mask, just a raised eyebrow and a look that says, “Really?” He surveys the crowd, arms folded, the living embodiment of every exasperated parent and weary citizen who’s ever muttered, “You can’t make this stuff up.”

He starts, “Let’s talk about the question nobody in charge seems able to answer anymore: ‘Who’s baby is this?’ Used to be a joke. Now it’s a national crisis. Half of you can’t answer it without checking your phone—or waiting for an official memo.”

He paces, voice sharp but dry. “You think you know your own kid? Think again. In a world where your eyes can lie, and tech can swap faces faster than you can say ‘deepfake,’ you can vanish without a trace—while your kid’s face is still right there, except it’s not. The system’s been tucking you in with bedtime stories full of lies.”

He points at the camera, deadpan. “The government can find your tax return from 1997 but can’t find a missing kid from last week. That’s not a coincidence. That’s a conspiracy. And I’m not here to sugarcoat it.”

A bureaucrat shuffles onstage, nervously clutching a stack of papers. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”

The Common Sense Guy smirks. “Dramatic? The only thing more dramatic than me is your cover-up routine. Try explaining to a parent why their kid’s eyes don’t match their memories. Try telling the world why ‘vanish without a trace’ is a feature, not a bug.”

He turns back to the audience, voice steady. “If you want someone who’ll play along, keep scrolling. If you want someone who’ll call it like it is, listen up. Because the truth doesn’t need a filter, and common sense doesn’t need permission.”

He steps forward, gaze unwavering. “You want to know who’s baby this is? It’s yours—if you’re brave enough to open your eyes, face the truth, and fight for what’s real. I’m not stopping, and neither should you.”

The lights fade. The message lingers: common sense isn’t gone—it’s just waiting for someone to listen.