Tag: joe jukic

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All Apologies Dr. Wanis

Subject: Apology & Explanation, Dr. Wanis

Dear Dr. Wanis,

I want to sincerely apologize for wearing the Lucifer Angels baseball hat. I understand how it may have come across, and I assure you, it wasn’t meant as a statement of belief or defiance. It was a move in a larger game—one that involved Kevin Cuthbert and a chess match between me and the so-called Japanese messiah.

Kevin asked for the hat. I knew what he wanted, and I knew what it symbolized in his mind. So I took it first—not to wear it with pride, but to thwart him. Sometimes, the best way to throw off an opponent is to take the move they think they own.

But that game is over now. I’ve got a Mike Trout hat instead. A better fit, a better name. No more symbols that can be twisted, no more unnecessary controversy. Just baseball.

And, while I’m apologizing, I need to say sorry for breaking your computer. I was frustrated—frustrated that you wouldn’t study my Revelation. I believed I had something important to share, and when I felt dismissed, I let my anger get the better of me. That wasn’t right.

I let my emotions take control, and I regret it. You didn’t deserve that.

I hope you can forgive me for both. I still respect you, and I still believe in the work you do.

Sincerely,
Joe Jukic

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An Apology to Dr. Lazar

Subject: Apology & A Question, Dr. Lazar

Dear Dr. Lazar,

I want to sincerely apologize for losing my temper. It wasn’t right, and I know that. But I need you to understand where I was coming from. The Terminator once said, anger is more useful than despair, and maybe that thought got the better of me.

But let me ask you, doctor—what would you do if the woman you loved was sick, and the doctors didn’t do their jobs? If they kept pushing medicine for profit instead of following Hippocrates’ wisdom—let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food? What if they ignored real healing, simply because there was no money in it?

I know you’re a good man. And I know you’ve dedicated your life to helping people. But you must see what’s happening. Too many suffer because the system isn’t built to heal—it’s built to profit.

I hope you understand where I’m coming from. I lost my temper because I care. And I believe you care too.

Sincerely,
Joe Jukic

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Jungle Psyops

Title: Jungle Psyops: The Ned Jukic Mission

FADE IN:

EXT. PANAMA JUNGLE – NIGHT – 1989

A BLACK HAWK HELICOPTER hovers over the dense jungle, floodlights illuminating the swaying treetops. The roar of the rotors competes with Van Halen’s “Panama” BLASTING through the onboard speakers.

CUT TO:

INT. BLACK HAWK – SAME TIME

A SQUAD OF CIA-TRAINED OPERATIVES sit strapped in, faces painted in camouflage. Among them is NED JUKIC (40s, Croatian lumberjack, hard as nails, chain-smoking a cigarette even in a no-smoking zone).

The OPERATIONS OFFICER hands Ned a dossier with a picture of MANUEL NORIEGA paperclipped to the top.

OPERATIONS OFFICER
(shouting over the noise)
You understand your orders, Jukic? You’re not just here to fall trees. You’re part of the show. Psychological warfare. CIA wants Noriega spooked.

NED JUKIC
(gruff, lighting another cigarette from the first one)
I drop trees, you drop bombs. I don’t need to know the rest.

The officer grins and leans closer.

OPERATIONS OFFICER
That’s the spirit. Just know, when the choppers start blasting Van Halen, that’s your cue. We’re making Noriega think the Devil himself is coming for him.

Ned takes a deep drag and exhales smoke through his nostrils, unimpressed.

NED JUKIC
The Devil doesn’t need a soundtrack.

CUT TO:

EXT. PANAMA JUNGLE – DAWN

Chainsaws ROAR as Ned and a team of jungle-clearers hack through thick foliage. Helicopters circle overhead, lowering supplies for an incoming landing zone for Apache gunships.

Ned signals his men to take down a massive ceiba tree blocking the clearing. He revs his Stihl chainsaw and drives it into the bark—

WHOMP-WHOMP-WHOMP!

SUDDENLY—multiple Cobra Gunships sweep in LOW over the trees, LOUDSPEAKERS BLARING “Panama! PANAMAAAAA!”

CUT TO:

INT. NORIEGA’S COMPOUND – SAME TIME

Inside a heavily guarded bunker, NORIEGA (50s, paranoid, sweat-drenched) sits with his GENERAL STAFF. The walls SHAKE as the helicopters pass over. The psyops broadcast begins: a mix of Van Halen, demonic whispers, and fake distress calls from his own men.

NORIEGA
(panicked, to his officers)
They’ve brought the gringos’ war music! The Devil comes with electric guitars!

His officers exchange nervous glances. The CIA’s PsyOps are working.

CUT TO:

EXT. JUNGLE CLEARING – DAY

Ned watches the helicopters unleash their psychological assault. He wipes sweat from his forehead and mutters—

NED JUKIC
What a waste of good music.

He gestures to his men—keep cutting. The mission isn’t over.

FADE TO BLACK.