The Primary Cast

The former master manipulator turned misfit meaning-maker. Learn more about Forbes right here at Confessions of an ex-Billionaire (and CMO).

Confessions of an ex-Billionaire (and CMO)

Forbes Nash

“Books are like our Selves. It’s hard for our loved ones to unsee the ugly first drafts.”—ForbesNash.com, recovering #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author…

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a year ago · Forbes Nash, ex-Billionaire

Dr Wyoming

The architect, director and man behind the curtain at The WORLD of SONGA. Learn more about Dr Wyoming over at The Millionaire’s Campfire.

The Millionaire's Campfire

Dr. Wyoming Schmetterling

‘I went about casting the cast of characters who had the time, talent and treasure to make this massively shared dream a reality…

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a year ago · Jack Ebstein

May Dove Munnie

The heiress, harmonizer, and first true believer in the Songa vision. Learn more about May Dove over at The Millionaire’s Campfire.

The Millionaire's Campfire

May Dove Munnie

“Whatʼs the point of passing wealth to future generations, when we havenʼt healed the wounds we passed down too…

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a year ago · Jack Ebstein

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Mohammad Munnie

The manager, husband, and steady hand reshaping what legacy means. Learn more about Mo over at The Millionaire’s Campfire.

The Millionaire's Campfire

Mohammad Munnie

“Learning to leave more than money behind…

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a year ago · Jack Ebstein

Emerson Spelling

The visionary, volatility, and venture heart behind The WORLD of SONGA. Learn more about Emerson over at The WORLD of SONGA.

THE WORLD OF SONGA

Emerson Spelling

“Isn’t the ultimate job of a parent to show the world how to love, and understand, their story—and their children…

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a year ago · Jack Ebstein

Erin Spelling

The quiet force, emotional mirror, and soul of the Spelling family. Learn more about Erin Spelling over at The WORLD of SONGA.

THE WORLD OF SONGA

Erin Spelling

“The lightest of life’s laughter follows the heaviest of tears…

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a year ago · Jack Ebstein

Sage Storries

The artist, alchemist, and emotional pulse behind the music of The WORLD of SONGA. Learn more about Sage Storries over at The '“Happy” Studio.

The “Happy” Studio @ the Home of SONGA.FM

Sage Storries

“If your art was your life, how would you live…

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a year ago · Jack Ebstein

The Supporting Cast

Lewis Blues

The mentor, mythmaker, and backbone of the band. Learn more about Lewis Blues over at The “Happy” Studio.

The “Happy” Studio @ the Home of SONGA.FM

Lewis Blews

“We don’t take our art to the world, we create art so spellbinding that the world comes to us…

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a year ago · Jack Ebstein

Cheyenne (“Shy Anne”)

The challenger, catalyst, and unshakable conscience in the room. Learn more about Cheyenne over at The Millionaire’s Campfire.

The Millionaire's Campfire

Cheyenne (”Shy Anne”)

“Art goes where words cannot…

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a year ago · Jack Ebstein

Brand Storries

The bridge, the buffer, the brother. Learn more about Brand over at The “Happy” Studio.

The “Happy” Studio @ the Home of SONGA.FM

Brand Storries

“Therapeutic entertainment for families brave enough to change: We build culture, not content…

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a year ago · Jack Ebstein

Dr. Jack Spelling

The editor of emotional arcs. Co-author of messy truths. Rewriting relationships on and off the page. Learn more about Jack over at The WORLD of SONGA.

The WORLD of SONGA

Dr. Jack Spelling

“What if the life you’ve spent years authoring… isn’t the one you were born to live…

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10 months ago · Jack Ebstein

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And then read Songa’s Rules, but know its (F)laws.

THE WORLD OF SONGA

THE RULES OF SONGA

The RULES of SONGA outline the creative behaviors we practice, protect, and pass on once you cross the portal into The WORLD of SONGA…

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a year ago · Wyoming

THE WORLD OF SONGA

The f(LAWS) of SONGA

The LAWS of SONGA outline the culture of behaviors we expect, encourage and discourage after you cross the portal into The WORLD of SONGA…

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a year ago · Wyoming

INT. SONGA MANSION – CONTROL ROOM – NIGHT

A recording studio in the back of a storied 19th-century mansion—rewriting the story of music and business. LED meters pulse like techno fireflies. Cables snake across Persian rugs.

SAGE lounges with a guitar across her lap, plucking its strings. LEWIS BLUES taps a djembe with one hand, the other clutches a mug of honey tea like a sacred chalice.

MAY DOVE hums aimlessly into a vintage mic, while her husband, MOHAMMAD MUNNIE, stands nearby—aloof, watching. She’s testing the equipment—and, before long, her faith in capitalism—and in Mo.

On the wall in green marker I’ve written:

“WHAT’S THE ROI
OF THE SOUL?”

FORBES (V.O.)
We met in the control room. Not a metaphorical one. A real one. Abbey Road after a TED Talk. I was there pitching a hedge fund that didn’t exist yet.

EMERSON SPELLING, rebrand addict and professional buzzword collector, scrolls his Linkedin feed.

I watch WYOMING enter the room, my half-brother turned full-time collaborator, and Emerson placing his phone on his lap.

Never too far.

It’s time to begin today’s meeting.

FORBES (to the group)
What if Pixar was a bank? What if every song was an asset? What if the key to fixing capitalism... was a jam session?

May Dove arches a skeptical eyebrow. MO, her husband, glowers at the mixing console like it owes him alimony.

FORBES (V.O.)
Wyoming looks nervous. He’s watching like a man who knew I was either about to pitch salvation or a very expensive mistake.

WYOMING
Even is fast.
Quick is slow.

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The room falls to a hush.

WYOMING
Art isn’t software. It doesn’t iterate. It emerges. A love song doesn’t come from a sprint—only a slow burn. You rehearse it until it sings.

EMERSON
Does this ‘singing’ come with a Q1 projection?

WYOMING
Call your therapist. Or your mother. Or your muse.

MAY DOVE
So... we have to feel things?

Wyoming nods.

MO
We’re fiduciaries. Our mandate is to grow capital.

FORBES
Then redefine capital. You’re not just managing wealth—you’re midwifing culture.

I stand, walking to the center of the room.

FORBES (V.O.)
I told them about Jobs. The Pixar years. How Catmull and Campbell taught him to lead humans, not just engineers.

I looked around at the room full of humans, hoping to engineer change.

FORBES
I’m the ex-billionaire who got humbled before I got wise. Wyoming? He’s our Bill Campbell. The whisperer. Also... our uncle was John—yes, that John Forbes Nash. Game theory. Prisoner’s Dilemma. He taught us that rational self-interest leads to irrational outcomes. But art? Art breaks the loop.

WYOMING (smiling)
Our uncle solved equations, we’re just trying to solve each other. But maybe that’s harder.

I turned to Mo. The man whose job is to grow her wealth... and whose self-worth depends on it.

FORBES
What if you grew something deeper than capital? Like community. Or courage. Don’t you think the capital would follow?

MO
I’ll put that in a spreadsheet.

MAY DOVE
He will.

EMERSON
You think this coalition of ghostwriters and broke musicians can save business?

FORBES
Not save. Rewrite. In 4/4 time.

MO
Let’s say we fund this. What happens when the artists run out of ideas? When courage doesn’t monetize?

WYOMING
Then the money learns patience. Or it dies trying.

Sage thumps a low groove on her guitar. Lewis Blues taps on his djembe—live scoring the tension in the room.

Mo look at May, arms-crossed, bracing for May’s inevitable reaction for the words that were to come next.

MO
Easy to say when you’re not the one calling the family office every quarter to justify why we’re investing in feelings instead of equities and funds.

MAY DOVE flinches, just slightly, but enough to register. She doesn’t speak. Not yet. Her silence is louder than words.

FORBES (V.O.)
The tension wasn’t about money. It was what it caused. Years of her voice being sidelined in the name of Mo "providing."

WYOMING watches them, thoughtful.

FORBES (V.O.)
He reminded me so much of Wyoming—before he entered a different state and changed his name to one.

WYOMING
I used to call it stewardship Turns out, I was laundering shame through spreadsheets—and calling it strategy.

FORBES (V.O.)
That landed. Like a tax bill in a family office inbox.

I looked to the Munnies.

FORBES
You ever think the portfolio’s not the problem? Maybe it’s more art that’ll fix what’s aching, not mo money.

I winked at May. She almost smiled. Almost.

FORBES
That’s the tension between The Art and the Machine though, isn’t it?More.

Mo was starting to understand.

FORBES
Most businesspeople try to scale output. We try to scale goosebumps. It’s not automation—it’s amplification. Our business model isn’t built on attention. It’s built on resonance.

MO
What if the most profitable outcome... is a culture that doesn’t need saving? So, what if the next unicorn isn’t a startup? What if it’s a song?

I look toward the musicians, as if cueing a song. Lewis beats on his djembe, setting the stage for Sage.

SAGE (singing)
’It's the secret that's in the song.’

Lewis layers a groove in underneath. They start stitching lyrics together, pulling from the words the group has just spoke.

SAGE (singing)
’Art goes where
hearts belong.
It’s the secret that
makes the song…’

LEWIS (singing)
’Art goes where hearts belong.’

SAGE AND LEWIS (looping)
‘Sing your story. Be the melody. Be your song.’

FORBES (V.O.)
A revolution disguised as a refrain.

The chorus came in, and I hadn’t even noticed—but Mo had joined in. He caught me watching, shook his head. He couldn’t believe it. None of us could.

MO
I can’t believe you want me to build a portfolio out of performance.

He laughed to himself. It sounded absurd when said aloud.

WYOMING
Not performance. Presence.

MAY DOVE
I can’t believe it either. But I’m not signing off on the math…

May grabbed her husband’s hand.

MAY DOVE
…I’m signing off on the man.

FORBES (V.O.)
He didn’t thank her. But he didn’t deflect. In their world? That counts as intimacy. Or at least, the start of it.

May Dove looked to the group, seemingly ready to make a confession.

MAY DOVE
I thought wealth meant we were winning. But I was losing… Losing myself behind designer handbags and charity galas. So busy keeping up with the Joneses, we forgot how to be the Munnies.

She looks over to Mo. He doesn’t look away, not like I’d seen him do so many times before.

MAY DOVE
We called it legacy. But maybe the legacy our kids need
isn’t in a trust fund… It’s the one we build on trust.

MO
Forget the legacy we meant
for the kids someday.
Let’s build one with meaning
for them today.

The band continues to play.

FORBES (V.O.)
They didn’t just buy in. They sang in.

MAY & MO (singing)
’You say you want to make a change?
You say want to make a difference?
You say you want to be somebody.
You’ve got to be the song.’

Subscribe to unlock
“Be Your Song”
below and start
singing your own.

Want more stories from the capitalists upending business with music?

• Check out 🌍The World of Songa.

Why stop there?

• 🏕️Gather around The Millionaire’s Campfire for stories of money, meaning, and the messy road in between.

• 🎶Groove to the beat of The Happy Studio for songs of soul, story, and the rhythm of reinvention.

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“Books are like our Selves. It’s hard for our loved ones to unsee the shitty first drafts.”—ForbesNash.com, recovering #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author

In 2021, shortly after our father’s death, my brother Wyoming and I changed our names, deleted our social media profiles, and went undercover to infiltrate the world’s largest gathering of capitalists. In a Nevada desert, we came across an eclectic and extraordinary band of songwriters, screenwriters, jokewriters, codewriters, copywriters and — ahem — underwriters.

We concluded that the world was too broken to change, so we decided to create a new one, and invite the world into it.

We wrote a book about this new world, scored it like a musical, and titled it THE MILLIONAIRE’S CAMPFIRE: A “True” Story about Culture, Capitalism, Community, and Coming Home.

It’s being trickled out this year, in advance of being served to an aching world at The World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland next year.

Below is my brother’s subscribers-only blog and invitation-only podcast:

The Millionaire's Campfire

This isn’t a story about wealth—it’s about what we forgot to build with it. It's a 'True' Story About Culture, Capitalism, Community, and Coming Home.

By Wyoming

If you're wondering how we joined this remarkable group of writers, keep reading.

“Forbes Nash is not a rich narcissist. but he does play one on television.”

RiverfrontTim.com, PR stuntman and shockjock “podcast jockey” (PJ) on SONGA.FM*

Before I belonged, I didn’t. I was a data miner who wrote the disgracebook algorithms that made media less social. I was the son of an oil miner in a small field in the plains of West Texas. You might know the company I cofounded by a different name. I bet you use the platform I built too — probably even a little bit too much. Well, I used your data. And I became the company’s CMO, the Chief Marketing Officer, but I was later reviled as its Chief Manipulation Officer, because my algorithms manipulated—and sold—

YOU.

Every saint has a past, every sinner, a future.

I had hoped to create joy and connection in the world, but I was paid handsomely by our Shareholders at Sequoia Capitol™ on the bottom line, so I drove traffic to our platform using the emotions that sold best—Anger and Division, Hate and Fear.

When we started scrolling, we stopped livin’, and lovin’. When my heart and life grew dark, I finally lost my Self.

But the greatest tragedy came later. As our screens got smaller, so did our gatherings, until our screens got so small that we didn’t gather at all.

I sold the eyeballs that those negative feelings drew to companies for a massive profit. And as the social media landscape I helped architect tore apart society’s fabric—and millions of families along with it—my bank account grew beyond imagination. But along the way, I lost my imagination,my joy, and ultimately, my family too.

Wyoming, before he changed his name and became the one named enigma that the world’s come to know him by, was my rival for Shy Ann’s love, and once upon a time, he was also my brother. We had two different mothers: Mine, the sister of a game theorist who’d won the Nobel Prize in Economics. Uncle John Nash was a novel thinker known in Nobel circles for his theories, helping the world better understand the interconnectedness of our societal fabric, the very fabric I’d destroyed with the algorithms that fascinated me as a young engineer at disgracebook.

I’d never really taken his Nash Equilibrium to heart, because the prisoners my uncle saw, Wyoming (“Wy”) and I, we were trapped in our own Prisoner’s Dilemma, fighting for our father’s attention in a game where no player benefitted while the others strategy remained unchanged. Uncle John solved The Prisoners Dilemma.

Wy and I could never release ourselves from that prison of our own making, the one my father helped create.

They called him domineering. Wy and I played the same game growin up, our father’s game.

Me, the unseen son, in Wyoming’s shadow—quiet, overanalytical, overlooked. But during those hot Texas summers, when Wy would leave St. Louis and come to our father’s ranch,

We’d fight for his affection, convinced it was a winner-take-all-game for our father’s love. He liked it that way.

I manufactured crisis and played the Victim. I’d inflate my successes and play the Hero. None of it seemed to buy my father’s love which was never for sale, as much as he pretended it could be bought. Wy accused me of manipulation. So, it only made sense I’d pursue a career in it.

We lost touch as I went to MIT for a degree in computer science. I wasn’t done running, trying to prove myself. So, I went to France for an MBA from INSEAD. Everyone was obsessed with marketing and accounting classes, but for me, it was all about distribution.

But what I was distributing out into the world was greed and selfishness, borne from the scarcity mindset our father had instilled in us as kids, and mirrored in the capitalist system that I entered after graduation: the one that pitted us all, against each other.

Capitalism failed us, and it’s failed…

… YOU.

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Wy and I weren’t released from the prison that we created until the Warden became sick

When our father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and there was no familial scoreboard, no more game to play. On the day of our father’s funeral, Wyoming approached me at the grand mansion he’d bought in the heart of St. Louis’ Tower Grove neighborhood. He brought me into a recording studio, turned on the mics, and we discussed his plan to reverse the societal disconnection we both felt, and I’d helped cause at disgracebook.

I decided to fix the problems I’d created.

We hatched our The Plot to Save the Soul of Business (with music) and take down my former employer, disgracebook.

I picked up a pair of orange sunglasses. A reminder that I wasn’t just looking at the world anymore; I was finally seeing it. For the first time in years, I wasn’t manipulating emotions—I was feeling them.

My brother and I penned the viral social manifesto predicted to win a Nobel Prize for Economics, and a Tony Award for Best Musical.

We scheduled opening night in a small theater in Davos and cast our friends and family for parts in a our social play.

“What if the screens that helped cause this rip in the fabrics of our family, and society, could be the same that helped stitch it back together? What if there's a way to create media that connects us, instead of divides us?”

And thus, the world’s first SOCIAL me(dia) change game platform was born. Insiders call it a ‘son’ game, a game for unseen sons, and daughters. But outsiders call it ‘songa dot me’ (songa.me)

Because when conversation died, so did nuance, or attempts at understanding. For millennia, we’d had the village fire where dialogue was essential to function, and survival.

What if we could return to the fire? What if we could create social media that actually makes us more social, not less?

Explore how we’re doing just that @ songa.org

in the meantime, let’s connect on Instagram,then, let’s connect—for real—in real life.

Live the interactive story that’s emerging

LIVE before your very eyes, and ears, at Songa Studios ST LOUIS and @ live.songa.org.

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EXT. COMPTON RESERVOIR PARK – DAY

An OPEN PERFORMANCE SPACE carved into the urban fabric of St. Louis. Raw, concrete beauty meets wild foliage. A geometric STAGE leads into a glowing PORTAL. Living murals envelop the crowd, each segment a work-in-progress painted by local artists.

CAL ‘THE BROKE’ BILLIONAIRE (50s, guarded, skeptical) walks alongside WYOMING SCHMETTERLING (60s, wild-eyed, poetic). They move toward the SONGA MANSION across the street.

CAL
How’d you hear of me?

WYOMING
Everyone in St. Louis knows you, Cal.

CAL
But I still don’t know why you asked me here.

WYOMING
I once saved your number in my phone as ‘Broke Billionaire’—thought your voicemail said you were going broke. Turns out it was just a bad connection. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? The connection’s breaking. And we need to fix it.

CAL
You think this fire’s going to fix St. Louis?

WYOMING
I grew up in your mall, Cal. Had my first kiss there. It was a time when people still gathered. When people shared social moments—not social media. That’s what we’re trying to build again.

They walk up the steps of the GOTHIC 19TH-CENTURY SONGA MANSION in the heart of St. Louis.

CAL
So this is some kind of nostalgia play?

WYOMING
No. It’s a future play. A family reunion disguised as a TV show. A fundraiser disguised as a miracle. We start right here—with fire and story—and we use The Workshop to do it.

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INT. SONGA MANSION – CONTINUOUS

They enter a multimedia recording studio and creative playground where families dream, and talent feels home.

FORBES NASH, the former CMO of Disgracebook and Wyoming’s half-brother, finds them. He beckons them forward for a tour. Cal and Wyoming follow Forbes through…

Walls lined with storyboards and community blueprints. Rooms humming with instruments and laughter. A HOUSE BAND rehearsing in the ballroom. CHILDREN choreographing a dance in the hallway.

FORBES
This is what happens when you give people back the stage. Everyone becomes an artist again.

Cal stops, taking the scene in. He looks behind him—the two brothers gone. He catches the backs of them as they enter…

A wide chamber lined with projection screens and acoustic tiles. The ceiling glows dim blue.

WYOMING
What kind of town do you want to build, Cal?

Cal looks inward, considering the question.

CAL
All I know is I’m afraid for my children and grandchildren growing up in this world with its current trajectory.

Forbes nods along.

FORBES
So, what do you want more of—and what do you want less of—in your life, then?

CAL
It’s a tough question to ask someone in a position like me. What’s the point of more, when you already have more than enough?

FORBES
How’s about something real?

Cal likes the sound of that.

WYOMING
You know, in a world plagued by artificial intelligence and relationships, real is the new luxury.

FORBES
Whatever your town looks like, we can help you build it. The Workshop can light the fire that shows this city the way. A bonfire that brings St. Louis back to life.

Forbes triggers campfire soundscapes from hidden speakers.

CAL
You think people will show up?

WYOMING
They will… Just watch —

Wyoming hits the room’s control board, triggering a descending projector screen.

WYOMING
Long before screens, people gathered around the village fire to share songs and stories. They shared a connection. What if art is the only way to get our communities communicating again?

The projector streams a rendering of a ‘Songa Bonfire’ at The Workshop. An intergenerational multimedia musical gathering around a bonfire—yes, a real fire.

INT. THE WORKSHOP – BROADCAST

The WORKSHOP is a reimagined warehouse-turned-cathedral-of-culture in a suburb of St. Louis. Exposed brick. Massive steel trusses. Holograms of dancers from across time shimmer between walkways. Projected murals shift in real time to music. Light sculptures pulse in harmony with live drumbeats.

FORBES (V.O.)
We're building on what was here before. 1904. The World’s Fair. Forest Park lit up like a dream. The whole world came here—to St. Louis—to imagine what was possible.

WYOMING (V.O.)
We’re not starting from scratch—we’re remembering who we are.

The stage is filled with families from every corner of the city: its business elite, its artists, its dreamers, and doers—creating something larger than themselves.

They play violins, djembe, banjo, synth. Gospel singers harmonize beside rappers and untrained youth. Jazz floats into rock and roll, melts into funk.

Music. Movement. Meaning.

WYOMING (V.O.)
In biology, culture is the cultivated environment in which an organism grows. For humans, culture is the air we breathe, the food we eat, the media we consume, and the people in our lives.

FORBES (V.O.)
Happiness comes effortlessly when we change the culture we live in. If the people around you—and your loved ones—are happy, you’ll be happier too.

Cal, Forbes and Wyoming enter ‘The Workshop’, no longer watching from The Songa Mansion. Cal looks around in awe.

360-DEGREE CAMERAS stream the Compton performance onto a central screen. Families, patrons, skeptics, and believers sit on layered platforms. Rugs. Lanterns. Neon.

FORBES (to Cal)
The old mall, your old mall, has recently gone the way of our community and media: it’s fractured. In many ways, it’s a microcosm of St. Louis itself—divided by culture, race, and economic fault lines.

They walk past a collection of refugees and retirees. Skeptics and seekers. Hands held. Meals shared.

A sculptor and a tech CEO share a canvas. A coder plays percussion. A pastry chef improvises a beat with a violinist. Each one takes a turn, steps back, invites another to solo.

WYOMING (CONT'D)
Why don’t entrepreneurs collaborate like musicians do, giving each member of their entrepreneurial band a solo, and their moment in the spotlight? What if 'The Workshop’ could be that spotlight.

The FIRE CHIEF sits with his family, watching the bonfire intently, while basking in its glow with his daughter.

AUDIENCE MEMBERS receive NOTECARDS. On the back: “Put a check in the box if you want us to sing your story.”

As MAY DOVE MUNNIE, family office maven from the city’s old moneyed vanguard, steps on stage. She grabs the microphone, the family band backing her up.

Anyone, and everyone, can be an artist here.

MAY DOVE (trembling)
I didn’t plan this. I thought I’d just watch tonight. But... it’s the anniversary of my father’s death. One year today.

A hush falls. The band begins to play—gentle chords, a soft rhythm. May closes her eyes. Her voice is raw, searching. She begins to sing.

SONG: “BELONG, BE STRONG, REACH FAR”
We are the source of love...
The heart will calm the mind...
Reach far, belong, be strong...
Leave no one behind...

The screen behind her comes alive—archival photos of St. Louis, her father’s face, images of families reuniting. May’s voice cracks with emotion, but she pushes through. The band swells.

She finishes. Silence. Then, applause. Standing ovation. She walks off stage, joining Wyoming, Forbes and Cal.

WYOMING
That’s the moment we’ve been waiting for.

Cal and May Dove shake hands, exchange introductions.

CAL
So, think this actually works, huh?

MAY DOVE
It did for my family. And it will for others. I know it.

Cal stares at the room alive with music, strangers turned kin. Children hand tambourines to elders. A mural from Compton Reservoir Park blooms onscreen. May Dove’s lyrics echo through the space.

MAY DOVE
Songa brought our family’s joy back that we’d lost. Our family office was telling me my net worth was increasing... so where had my self-worth gone? I had no dreams. Just shareholder value. But who are society’s real shareholders?

CAL (re: surrounding St. Louis families)
Us.

WYOMING
We spend our entire lives searching for a place where we belong.

He turns to May.

WYOMING
While you were singing, I couldn’t help but think... What if we light a fire—and create a place where others feel like they belong?

Cal walks toward the dancers, ready to join the crowd. He stops and looks back.

CAL
I think I know what I want my town to look like now.

FORBES
Oh, yeah?

CAL
Yeah. More moments like this. Fewer meetings of the mind... and more gatherings of the heart.

FORBES
Then bring the Bonfire to The Workshop. You light the flame. We’ll do the rest.

CAL
Sounds too good to be true.

WYOMING (CONT’D)
Some offers aren’t too good to be true. They’re just true.

FADE OUT INTO A PORTAL, A DOOR WITHIN THE WORKSHOP:

SUPER: “THE CODE IS 2112.”

CUT TO BLACK.

Before you move on to ACT 6,
climb the paywall and listen to
“Belong, Be Strong, Reach Far”.
Shaped by heartbreak, lifted by hope.

Subscribe now

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INTERNAL MEMO — DO NOT DISTRIBUTE
CONFIDENTIAL — Apple Global Communications
FROM: Kate Adams, SVP, Legal & Public Affairs
TO: Executive Leadership Team
RE: Incident Report: “iScreen” Cultural Disruption Campaign (Forbes Nash)
DATE: May 23, 2025

Overview:
Earlier this week, former software executive and known media provocateur Forbes Nash entered the Apple Store in downtown Nashville and attempted to acquire what he referred to as a “beta unit of the Apple iScreen.”

There is no such product in our official pipeline. However, Nash’s framing has gained traction on social media and is now trending under #iScreenRevolution, #CallYourFather, and #ThisIsNotAPhone.

Key Quotes Recorded During Incident (Flagged by CommOps):

• “They convinced the world they were selling a phone. What they sold… was a screen.”

• “As our screens got smaller, so did our gatherings.”

• “They’ve made media less social—on a device called a phone.”

THE MOVEMENT

In an impromptu visit that doubled as a culture jam, Nash tried to pick up a beta model of the rumored iScreen, citing legal contacts, whispered lawsuits, and a campaign to reclaim digital dignity.

He’s not suing. Not yet. But he’s naming what others won’t.

“And if you’re a parent waiting for your child to call… maybe you’ve already joined the movement.”

He accuses Apple of having spent nearly two decades selling a device it calls a “phone.” But for most parents, creators, and culture critics, the reality is clear: nobody’s using it to talk anymore.

Enter: The Apple iScreen™.

“My kids haven’t called me since they got one,” Nash said, standing in the Apple Store. “I’m not angry. I’m just branding accurately.”

The iScreen isn’t just a rebrand, he claims. It’s a reality check. It acknowledges what millions already know: the device in your pocket isn’t a telephone—it’s a screen you touch more than you touch the people you love.

Impact Analysis:
Nash is exploiting a latent cultural tension. His framing is emotionally resonant among parents, educators, and critics of digital dependency. We believe his core message—that the iPhone is no longer a phone, but a socially isolating screen—poses a unique reputational risk.

Additionally, his campaign’s use of “culture jamming” tactics in physical retail locations may inspire further flash disruptions. He purchased multiple Apple products during the event, including a $1,500 iPhone for a gas station worker named Christy, suggesting a calculated performance of generosity tied to economic critique.

Recommended Containment Actions:

1. Do not engage publicly. Any formal response would amplify the message.

2. Activate Calm Signal Protocols in retail: Store leads will be briefed on Nash and trained to de-escalate any future “beta pick-up” attempts.

3. Monitor Legal Language Drift: The phrase “false advertising” was used in-store re: calling the device a “phone.” Legal is exploring protective language strategies in upcoming software agreements.

Strategic Opportunity:
Ironically, Nash has named something our own user research flagged months ago: connection fatigue.
As a preemptive repositioning, consider the following soft pivots for Fall campaigns:

• “iPhone. More than a screen.”

• “Stay close, not just connected.”

• “Designed for touch. Made for talk.”
  These may allow us to absorb and redirect public sentiment without legitimizing the ‘iScreen’ framing.

Next Steps:
If Nash escalates, or if the class-action rumors gain legal footing, we may need to consider a quiet backchannel approach or brand disarmament via satire (see: 2014 “Bendgate” response).
Marketing, stay light. Legal, stay dark. Retail, stay friendly.

Above all: Stay the course. We don’t sell screens. We sell futures.

—Kate

🎧 Field Trip: The Live iScreen Taping

Forbes Nash goes off-script in the most scripted way possible.

Recorded live at the Apple Store in downtown Nashville—this is the moment the iScreen movement went public.

Paid subscribers can access the full recording below the paywall.

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New here? Check out ACT 1.

COLD OPEN

INT. BASEMENT STUDIO – NIGHT

A grainy,VHS-style broadcast opens with a banner:"BREAKING NEWS: TEAM USA SAVES THE MUSIC INDUSTRY (and the national debt)."

An 8-YEAR-OLD BOY in oversized sunglasses sin…

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INT. CONGRESSIONAL HEARING ROOM – DAY

Cold. Ceremonial. Its stillness broken by the quiet shuffle of papers and low murmur of aides and legal counsel. Behind the dais, a semicircle of SENATORS.

SENATOR WEXLER, Committee Chair. Late 60s. He taps his mic.

SENATOR WEXLER
Mr. Nash, for the record, please state your name and professional background.

A sharply dressed FORBES NASH JR. leans into a microphone.

FORBES NASH JR.
My name is Forbes Nash Jr. I was the CMO of a company I’ll henceforth be referring to as ‘disgracebook’.

A few muffled laughs from the gallery.

SENATOR WEXLER
Mr. Nash, during your time as Chief Marketing Officer—

FORBES NASH JR.
Correction, Senator. Not Marketing. Chief Manipulation Officer.

The gallery erupts—laughter echoing off the marble walls. Even a few aides stifle grins.

SENATOR WEXLER (banging gavel)
Order. This is a formal hearing, not open mic night at the Apollo.

He leans forward.

SENATOR WEXLER
Mr. Nash, help this committee understand: how does your experience in social media qualify you to speak on the issue of fair compensation for creative labor?

FORBES NASH JR.
I designed the algorithms that turn attention into currency. Culture into collateral. That same system now reroutes the profits of art to the hands of shareholders who had no hand in its creation. While the real power belongs to society’s true stakeholders: the creators.

The gallery’s intrigued. The senators, bankrolled by the monopolies in question, less so.

SENATOR WEXLER (skeptical; dismissive)
And how do you propose to do that, Mr. Nash?

FORBES NASH JR.
It starts with a question. An opportunity, really… How do we save the music industry, finally make Spotify give a sh*t, all while paying down the national debt?

Now it’s the Senator’s turn to lean forward, intrigued.

FORBES NASH JR.
We tariff the algorithms.

Cut to: MONTAGE — A CHORUS of AMERICAN MUSICIANS
Testify before Congress on C-SPAN, like war veterans from a forgotten battlefield.

-BIG WALTER, 78 year old bluesman from the Delta, grips the mic.

BIG WALTER
I had 1.2 million listens on Spotify last year. I made $2.87. Tell me how the hell soul music, and the soul of this country, got licensed to the highest bidder?

-LENA MESA, 36 year old session musician, testifies.

LENA MESA
My voice is used to train AI models that I didn’t consent to—and that now compete with me for gigs. They call it innovation. I call it theft.

-SIENA RUE, 25 year old, pop artist and TikTok star, speaks.

SIENA RUE
Three million streams a month, and I still can’t afford a dentist—if algorithms make the money, why don’t they pay the bill?

The C-SPAN cam pans over the gallery and senators, all moved.

FORBES (V.O.)
Let’s get real. America may have lost the manufacturing war, the textile war, the artisanal pickle war—but dammit, we still own music, movies, memes, and middle-aged writers.

The CSPAN feed glitches. Channel changes. A CABLE NEWS BROADCAST cuts in.

ANCHOR (V.O.)
BREAKING: The White House is considering a new Byte Tax. Foreign companies using American-made algorithms, IP, or musical notes will face a 30% tariff… unless they pay artists. In cash. Company shares. Or an honest contract written in plain English.

INT. SONGA RECORDING STUDIO – NIGHT

WYOMING, Forbes’s half-brother in his fifties, who abandoned a capitalist empire to change the very system he left behind, leans over the sound mixing booth toward Forbes.

WYOMING
You think tech bros are gonna pay for art?

FORBES
No. But if they don’t, we’re going to slow their streaming speeds to 1997 levels.

INT. MIDDLE AMERICA FAMILY HOME - BEDROOM - NIGHT

The flickering glow of a smartphone screen illuminates a 13 year-old TEENAGER lying in bed, his worried face staring at the endlessly spinning Spotify wheel.

TEENAGER (yelling out)
Mom, why is Spotify buffering?!

MOM pops her head into the bedroom.

MOM
Because America’s finally standing up for musicians, sweetheart!

Teenager sets his i-Phone down on his nightstand.

MOM
That means your dad’s not stuck gigging all the time.
More money means more live shows—and more time with us.

PATRIOTIC MUSIC swells. Eagles cry. Teenager joins his mom in the living room as they ready to spend an evening together. As we hear…

FORBES (V.O.)
This isn’t just about royalties. This is about justice. For every jazz player, gospel grandma, folk weirdo, and indie kid who got 100,000 plays and couldn’t buy a burrito.

INT. SONGA HEADQUARTERS – WAR ROOM

Cluttered hive of creativity and strategy. Whiteboards burst with equations, diagrams, and cryptic notes. Monitors flicker with data streams and legal briefs. At the center, a massive screen reads:

Operation: Save the Soul of the Music Business

Forbes sits on a chair, speaking into a Songa headquarters camera:

FORBES
Welcome to SONGA—where social media makes us more social, not less.
We don’t just manipulate media. We rewire it. With heart.

Forbes’ collaborators enter the room, getting to work. He smirks.

FORBES
Along with a team of multidisciplinary artists, rogue economists, conscious capitalists, healing clinicians, copyright lawyers… and overworked baristas.

SMACH CUT TO:

THE DISCLAIMER

What you just read may sound like fiction.

But try telling that to the 73-year-old funk bassist who made less money than a middle schooler selling slime on TikTok.

This plot is real.

And it’s just getting started.

Join the Resistance @ The xBillionaires.org

Subscribe below, then scroll down to reach ACT 2

Meet some of the other minds shaping this movement:

🎧 Lewis Blews — musical producer at The "Happy" Musician
🏕️ Wyoming — my brother and resident myth-maker at The Millionaire’s Campfire
✍️ Jack Ebstein — the screenwriter chronicling The World of Songa

Subscribe to their Substacks, follow the threads, and step deeper into the story.

Subscribe now

ACT 1: THE DISCLAIMER

We stopped pretending long ago that the stories we tell ourselves are true.

What you’re about to experience is true.

(ish.)

We present it as fiction, because let’s be honest—you wouldn’t believe us if we told you it was real. This is a work of emergent fiction. Whether it becomes fact or stays fantasy depends on two things:

1. When you read it.

2. If you believe it could come true.

This story was pieced together from on-camera interviews with ex-billionaires, failed founders, Songa musicians, movement therapists, baristas, rogue A.I. coders, and at least one rideshare driver named Duuntu Uthers Hart. It includes off-the-record confessions, unsent emails, legal depositions, Instagram voice memos, congressional testimonies, and first-person accounts too embarrassing to be remembered sober.

All identifying details have been carefully disguised to protect the innocent.

And the guilty.*

WHAT IS THIS?

Welcome to Confessions of an Ex-Billionaire (and CMO)—a serialized, semi-fictional exposé from the man who helped break the internet, then tried to use the same tricks to fix what he broke.

I’m Forbes Nash Jr.

Recovering Chief Manipulation Officer at a company you probably still use. (I call it Disgracebook. You call it whatever your screen says.)

In another life, I wrote the algorithms that turned friends into followers, followers into fanatics, and attention into currency. I built the architecture for a machine that could simulate love, hijack your empathy, and reward your outrage.

It made me rich. Like 3-commas rich. Then it made me numb. Then it made me alone.

Now I’m telling everything.

We’re exposing every psychological, technological, legal, emotional, and spiritual manipulation in the book—the same ones I helped invent. The ones that rewired society and disconnected you from yourself. The ones that made your niece addicted to doomscrolling and made Thanksgiving awkward with your uncle.

We’re using them to reconnect you. To rebuild what was lost.

Not with nostalgia. With better software. With stories. With song.

With social media that actually makes you more social.

This isn’t just a memoir. It’s a plot.

A plot to save the soul of business.

(With music.)

And yes—it’s a screenplay.

Because life is a stage.

Write your character in any moment.

So the algorithms don’t do it for you.

If you stay with us, here’s what you'll witness:

• Secrets unveiled by the people who built the machine—and then turned against it.

• A ragtag coalition of healing capitalists, artists, economists, and renegade musicians banding together to take down the system from the inside.

• A cinematic chronicle of how it all went down—complete with congressional showdowns, viral revolutions, love songs turned manifestos, and the world's first protest musical staged inside a recording studio.

• Strategies once used to manipulate your mind, now used to set it free.

• Actual tools: leaked transcripts, social scripts, digital tax codes, policy drafts wrapped in poetry.

• A new kind of software—not for your phone, but for your soul.

• And yes… possibly a juice box.

(Organic. With pulp. Because honest stories should leave a little texture.)

I’m not a billionaire anymore. Not even close. But I’ve met the ones who stayed sane after losing their third comma.

They didn’t go broke.
They just redefined wealth.

They invested in the starving artists around them, challenged their loved ones to turn life into art, and kept “only” $999,999,999 for themselves.

If that sounds ridiculous—good.
It means you’re still paying attention.

Let’s laugh. Possibly cry.
Let’s tell a better story.

___

Get a free behind the scenes look at Forbes Nash (forbesnash.com)
The man turning weaponized algorithms, into instruments of connection. Subscribe below, then scroll down reading ACT 2 below

Subscribe now

Please meet and follow some of my collaborators on Substack:

• Musical producer at The “Happy” Studio who is creating novel music models for an AI age, with soul.

• My brother at The Millionaire’s Campfire a money mover writing about Culture, Capitalism, Community and Coming Home.

• , the screenwriter who’s been documenting .