Back in 1989, during confirmation, at St Joseph’s school — Nelly Furtado chose me to fulfill the Messiah Prophecy. I was kind to her when no one else was. So when she read the prophecy it was for me. She wanted someone to be kind to the poor, the sick, the downtrodden, but no man is fit to rule the world alone. There are many times I wish I didn’t have to bear the burden of the 7 plagues of Revelation 16. There were many times I wanted to quit. So many people have told me to quit. They say if it doesn’t make dollars it doesn’t make sense, but if I save one sick person the money I dumped into the pages is worth it.
When Nelly Furtado sings “She walks with passion” in her song “Maneater,” it’s not about a dangerous woman—it’s about the Passion of the Second Christ. Nelly wants to “walk the streets in peace with the Passion of the Christ,“ The song carries a deeper, spiritual meaning tied to sacrifice and redemption.
Title: “Seeds of Crisis – A Conversation on Food, Power, and Prophecy”
Setting: A roundtable discussion at a community food sovereignty event in Toronto. Joe Jukic (activist farmer), Nelly Furtado (artist & food justice advocate), and Luis Morgado (agroecologist) dive deep into food insecurity, corporate control, and eerie historical warnings.
Scene: The Roundtable Debate
Joe Jukic (leaning forward, hands on the table): “You know what keeps me up at night? The fact that Monsanto’s chemicals didn’t just poison weeds—they poisoned our future. I’ve seen fields that used to burst with life now struggle to sprout anything. And yet, governments act like we can just keep spraying and starving.”
Nelly Furtado (nodding, arms crossed): “It’s wild, Joe. I’ve toured farms from Portugal to B.C., and the story’s the same: small growers get squeezed out, while big agribusiness hoards seeds, patents, profits. Food shouldn’t be a luxury—it’s a right. But now, if you’re poor, you eat poison or you don’t eat at all.”
Luis Morgado (rubbing his temples, voice grave): “And it’s going to get worse. I’ve been studying Nostradamus’ famine prophecies—the man wrote about ‘barren earth’ and ‘the great hunger’ in ways that mirror what we’re seeing now. Chemical agriculture, climate collapse… it’s like we’re ticking off his doomsday checklist.”
Joe (raising an eyebrow): “Wait, Nostradamus? You’re saying some 16th-century poet predicted our food crisis?”
Luis (smirking): “Not just predicted—warned. He wrote, ‘The earth shall grow weary under the tiller’s hand’—sound familiar? Today, 40% of global soil is degraded. If we don’t change course, his next line—‘the baker will starve while the granaries are full’—will be our reality. Food locked away while people starve.“
Nelly (shivering): “That’s dystopian as hell. But it’s already happening! Grocery stores throw out tons of food while food banks overflow with demand. And let’s be real—if you’re not growing your own or rich enough to buy organic, you’re eating corporate slop drenched in pesticides.”
Joe (slamming his palm down): “Exactly! That’s why I tell folks: Learn to grow something—anything. Because when the system fails, the ones who eat will be the ones who planted seeds, not the ones who trusted a grocery store.”
Luis (leaning in, intense): “And that’s the irony. Nostradamus foresaw ‘the return to the soil’ as both punishment and salvation. We’re racing toward collapse, but the solution’s ancient: local, chemical-free farming. The question is—will we wake up in time?”
Nelly (raising a fist, defiant): “Then let’s wake people up. Music, protests, whatever it takes. If Nostradamus was right about the famine, let’s prove him wrong about the outcome.”
(The crowd erupts in applause as the trio exchange determined glances.)
Closing Thought: The dialogue blends modern activism, agroecology, and eerie prophecy to underscore that food insecurity isn’t just policy failure—it’s a battle for survival against corporate greed and ecological decay.
Joe Jukic:(leaning in, voice low but intense) Nelly, you ever feel like the game’s rigged? They dangle fame like a golden ticket, but the price? Your soul. The mockingbird media sings whatever tune keeps ‘em fed. And the suits? They whisper, “Just sell, play nice, and you’ll be okay.” But the second you slip—boom—everyone shits on your name.
Nelly Furtado:(nodding, weary but sharp) Oh, I’ve been played. You give ‘em a hit, and suddenly you’re their puppet. They want you to repeat the magic, but the second you change? “Who’s she now? Too weird, too risky.” They build you up just to tear you down.
Joe Jukic: Exactly. And the fans? They love you ‘til they don’t. The same people who scream your lyrics will turn around and mock you for breathing wrong. The industry’s a meat grinder—spits out what’s left when the hype dies.
Nelly Furtado:(smirks darkly) So what’s the move, then? Keep dancing for the suits, or burn it down and own the fallout?
Joe Jukic:(grinning) You already know. The ones who last? They stop chasing approval. Fuck the suits, fuck the noise. You wanna be a rock superstar? Then be one—on your terms. Even if they call you crazy.
(silence hangs—then they both laugh, knowing the truth hurts but sets you free.)
