How I’m Going To Find Tupac


Nick Looney, Staff Writer

It’s been attempted for centuries. Well actually, decades, but still. When I asked Mr. Plagge his thoughts on my search, he said “good luck. Try Cuba.” I am going to find Tupac Shakur.

Number one, let’s establish why I need to find Tupac in the first place. There is an insane amount of evidence that Tupac did not die on the night he supposedly died. Not only did he “die” at the same age one of his idols faked his death at, but he died at the age of 25, and 2+5 = 7. Why is this important? Because Tupac was obsessed with the number 7. Remember that for later. Also, a posthumous music video called “I Wonder If Heaven Got A Ghetto.” The video, recorded before Tupac’s death, documents a man named Pac’s journey to recovery and escape after being injured. In the beginning, a radio is heard announcing news of a shooting in the exact spot where Tupac was shot. Later on in the video, he’s taken away by a man in a Blue Cadillac (the car Tupac’s killer escaped in) and eventually ends up on a bus full of famous dead people, including Elvis and Jimi Hendrix. This is just skimming the surface, but we’ll be moving on.

There are several possible places the rapper could be. It would have to be somewhere where he likely wouldn’t be recognized, off the beaten path. One common theory is that he is in Cuba. I suppose this is possible, especially considering the embargo would mean that not many American fans would be in the area. But I still feel it is too close to the US and his rabid fans. Also, Cubans might listen to him too. Another choice is Siberia. He would likely never run into another fan again, although that goes for people as a whole. The only way to know is if we find the Tu-popsicle he must have become. My personal theory, though, is the most likely one. Tupac Shakur is in Agitata, Nigeria. As you remember, Pac was obsessed with the number 7. What are Agitata’s coordinates? 7,7. And Nigeria is fairly off the beaten path? I’m still booking the flight and hiring a guide through the wilds of Nigeria, but I will find Tupac.

Here’s how I planned to find him. First, I will put a Machiavelli (his favorite author) book on a string. I will then drag it throughout greater Agitata. If that doesn’t work, I will get a blimp with a megaphone, and announce that the number 7 is awful. He should come at me in a blinding rage, allowing me to capture him and return him home to America to make fire raps. Then, as a last resort, I will do the unthinkable; I will round up as many Tupac fanboys as possible, ship them over on a FedEx jet (yes, I am sponsored) and airdrop them into Nigeria, telling them that Tupac is in the area. Many will die. Crops will be burned. Fanboys will tear down homes nail by nail, board by board, shingle by shingle, to find Tupac. Hopefully, the calamity will result in Tupac being brought home unharmed, although it is likely the fan boys will try to take a lock of his hair to clone him. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I’m going to find Tupac.


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