Just when Zach and Ethan start to get complacent, the SWAT team crashes in! The NSA has a fly on the wall. The lost cinema of Germany seems to play an integral role in all of this, but Ethan fails to see Zach’s point. Zach insists that the Nazis were like a cool boy-band. They were this ultimate fear: that the government will use its information to become a tyranny.
In other news, fear of the NSA is just a two-year-old playing it up. Seeking a paradise lost, or at the very least, a return to paradise and the golden age. Diapers are merely a way to closet in the necessary excrement of the baby. Anal retention leads to a banishment from paradise. Keeping the shit from coming out of their asses is a baby’s way of succumbing to the pressure of the “No,” otherwise known as “The name of the father,” if we ask Lacan.
There is a sense of mutuality between tight-asses, which is the necessary cause of anti-social disorder. Coming home is the only way to find peace. To this end, Zach claims he's never out of ideas. Zach questions Ethan's motive. Harry Houdini is an apt example that supports Zach’s point of view. And Whale Polo is the greatest sport of all time! So everyone wins.
Ethan gives up hope of making his point, so instead resorts to empty truisms like: “Freakin data!” Finally, an actual NSA employee-that’s right, a real member of the NSA-makes his way to the stage. Sir Robertson Dandaniel finally makes his claim to fame. Despite his flippant accent, Dandaniel is an authority with which to speak! Zach interrogates him, but he's plump as a plum!