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Locked inside this clip there is a file, and one word that opens it. Only the men who paid ever see that word. Send it to me and I let you in -- and from that second this stops being a video you watch and becomes something that happens to you. Because I am not staying on your screen tonight. You are going to open what I give you and sit there with it in front of you, and I am going to make you fill it in while I talk. Your name. Your wife's name -- typed by your own hand, not mine. The year you married her. Five vows you say out loud in a slping house. Your signature, drawn with your finger, on a line under mine. And when it is done, it stays done. Tomorrow morning you will pour her coffee with my number on your phone and her name sitting in my file, and there will be no version of the day where that did not happen. Other clips give you ten minutes and nothing to keep. This one takes your ring, her name and your handwriting, and keeps all three. Aroma up. Cock out. Ring hand where I can see it. And open it -- I am waiting in there.