Joe Canuck – Page 28

August 19, 2025August 19, 2025

Protecting Mary’s Daughter

(They are in a quiet corner, away from a party or a crowd. Nelly looks stressed, and Joe moves to shield her from view.)

Nelly: (Sighs) “I can feel them staring. I know what they’re saying.”

Joe: (Stepping closer, his voice a low, steady murmur) “Let them stare. Let them say whatever they want.” He gently adjusts his stance, deliberately blocking her from the room. “I’ve been used to protecting you since the days of our Childhood Dreams. This is no different.”

Nelly: (Looks up at him, a worried crease in her brow) “But Joe… they’ll call you crazy. They’ll say you’re picking a fight, that you’re obsessed.”

A slow, defiant smile touches Joe’s lips. “I don’t care if the audience calls me crazy. I’ve learned not to give a fuck about their gossip. The only thing that matters is that you’re okay.”

Bono: (Looks at the sparkling skyline with contempt) “Your dreams were purer than this, kid.” He takes a long drink. “My bones… they’re not a message for me. They’re a message for you, Joe. A reminder that the network sees everything. You think the Mob runs this town? Amateurs. Thugs with cigars. The real power doesn’t get its hands dirty. It signs treaties. It wins Nobel Peace Prizes.”

He leans forward, the city reflected in his eyes. “The Bavarian Illuminati perfected the science of control. And their greatest student, the late Dr. Henry Kissinger, ran New York not from City Hall, but from the Grand Alpina Lodge. Every major developer, judge, and banker in there takes their orders. They are the deep state. Not a conspiracy theory—a conspiracy fact. And they just broke my arm for tapping on their window.”

Joe: (Is silent for a long moment, staring at the city. Then he speaks, softly at first.) “They didn’t break it because you tapped… they broke it because of the song you were humming while you did it.” He turns to Bono. “They fear your jubilee, brother. The great reset. The song that cancels all their dark debts.”

Bono looks up, shocked.

Joe: “It’s in your name. It always has been. It’s why the old power hated you. ’43’ himself, the cowboy they put in charge, he didn’t see a philanthropist. He saw an irritant. He called you ‘The Pest.’ And he hated the name Bono. Because he heard it wrong. He heard BONE NO. The ultimate refusal. That’s why their puppets, the Bavarian Illuminati, didn’t just threaten you. They had to make it literal. They broke your bones in that ‘accident’ to try and break the meaning. To turn ‘Bone No’ into ‘Broken Yes.'”

August 17, 2025August 17, 2025

I Am Yours

Title: “Of Course I’m Yours”

—Joe’s POV—

The first time I played Nelly, Def Leppard, Love Bites, something inside me twisted. Not in a bad way—more like a key turning in a lock I didn’t even know existed. Her yellow dress was so beautiful, the kind that makes a man want to promise things he shouldn’t.

“Love bites… but I’m yours.”

I said it before I could stop myself. “Of course I’m yours.”

She laughed, thinking I was joking. But I wasn’t.

I never planned to be the kind of guy who got tangled up in his own lines. Back in internet med school, a buddy, Dr. Bill Harford, tossed me a dog-eared copy of The Game by Neil Strauss. “Read this,” he said, grinning. “You’ll thank me later.”

I skimmed it. The tactics felt cheap, like fast food for the soul—filling but empty. Still, some of it stuck. The confidence tricks. The push-pull. The way you could make someone need you if you played it right.

But Nelly wasn’t some random girl at a bar. She was my first patient when I opened my naturopathic practice, Namaste Wellness. Cystic Fibrosis. I fixed her with herbs, roots, foods, the works. She called me a miracle worker.

And then, one evening after a session, she sang.

“You can’t marry anyone else,” I told her months later, half-joking, half-dead serious.

She arched an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because you’re my first patient. It’d be bad luck.”

She laughed again, but her eyes held mine a second too long.

That’s the thing about love—it does bite. And once it sinks its teeth in, you don’t get to decide when it lets go.

The End.

August 16, 2025August 16, 2025

When Food Insecurity Turns Into Famine

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.