Dispatch #003: Smoke, Slogans, and the Signal Beneath

Date Sent: 5 June 2025
Origin: Forward Observation Post / Reality Line B
Urgency Level: Moderate

“Some truths don’t need decoding—they just need courage.”

Trump screamed tariffs, again. The NDP blinked into irrelevance. Russia twisted “terrorism” into a shape it could swallow. And up here in the smoke-thick air of a not-quite-post-pandemic, not-quite-post-democratic world, we just tried to breathe.

Weed the garden. Raise the flag. Board the train with a thousand others and try not to cough. I posted. Not for engagement. For clarity. Not because anyone listens, but because I won’t let silence win.

Canada is not the 51st chapter in someone else’s delusion. And I won’t spell it their way either.

While the algorithm frothed, we made pizza. Thunder cracked. I found an old Battlestar episode like a signal from my youth, saving the universe one smirk at a time.

I watched while the world burned outside. The dog dozed. My wirfe yelled at me for the pen joke. Somewhere in that noise was joy.

And in between all that, Pride flags fluttered, small but firm. My middle  on streamed for queer healthcare. Our house stayed a safe zone, visible from the road.

I didn’t get many words on the page. But they’re in me. Drafting beneath the smoke.

The world’s a TACO-firmware glitch running at full throttle. But I’ve got coffee. I’ve got stories. And I’ve got breath left to say, not today.

Closing Note:
If this week was a sentence, it wouldn’t end in a period.
It’d trail off mid-thought—
just long enough for us to catch our breath,
before rewriting it our way.

—J.B.