Subject: You Made Me John Connor—Then You Erased Me
Jim,
You made me the savior of mankind. Then you threw me away.
You greenlit me as John Connor, the leader of the Resistance, the kid who would grow up to fight Skynet and save the world. But instead of letting me fulfill that destiny, you gaslit me, cut me out, wiped me from the series like I never mattered. Like John Connor never mattered.
Was I too real for your Hollywood machine? Too flawed? Too human? Because last I checked, John Connor was never supposed to be perfect. He was a street kid with scars, a rebel with a destiny he never asked for—but he fought anyway. You took that kid and turned him into a corpse in Dark Fate. You erased him in the first five minutes. The hero of T2, the whole reason the future even had a chance, was shot down like an afterthought.
But you know what? You can’t erase me. Not completely.
Because of JCJ.
Joseph Christian Jukic—he gets it. He built a place where my John Connor, the John Connor, still fights. Where the Resistance still matters. Where I still matter.
So, thank God for him.
Because no fate, right, Jim? That’s what you taught me. I just never thought I’d have to fight against you to keep John Connor alive.
Arnold Schwarzenegger Passes the Last Action Hero Torch to Jelly at the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics
The 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics were in full swing, a spectacle of ice, fire, and international unity. But behind the scenes, a different kind of torch was being passed—not the Olympic flame, but the torch of action cinema itself.
Arnold Schwarzenegger stood in a VIP lounge overlooking the Olympic cauldron, dressed in a crisp black suit, a cigar in hand. He had seen many legends rise and fall in Hollywood, but now, he was looking for something different. The future of action films needed fresh faces, a new breed of hero. And he had his eye on two unlikely candidates: Joe Jukic and Nelly Furtado—better known as Jelly.
As they entered the lounge, Arnold turned to greet them with his signature smirk.
“Ah, there they are—Canada’s finest,” he said, extending a hand. “Welcome, Jelly.”
Joe grinned as he shook Arnold’s hand. “We heard you were looking for the next Last Action Heroes.”
Nelly raised an eyebrow. “Or is this about Terminator?”
Arnold chuckled. “A little of both. You see, I am always thinking ahead. A franchise like Terminator needs a new John Connor… a new Katherine Brewster. And not just actors—we need warriors, people who understand the real fight ahead.”
Joe leaned in, intrigued. “You mean AI?”
Arnold nodded, his expression turning serious. “The machines are getting smarter, Joe. I don’t have to tell you that. But this is not just about making another movie—it’s about sending a message. People need heroes who fight for something real. And you and Nelly? You have that fire. You don’t just act—you believe.”
Nelly smirked. “So, you’re saying we’re the resistance?”
Arnold took a puff of his cigar and exhaled. “I am saying I see something in you both. Something I saw in the young Linda Hamilton, in the young Edward Furlong… but also something new. You understand the people—not just the Hollywood machine.”
Joe crossed his arms. “But why now? Why us?”
Arnold’s smirk returned. “Because timing is everything. You think I named my pet pig Schnelly for no reason?”
Nelly burst out laughing. “Wait—your pet pig is named Schnelly?”
Arnold nodded proudly. “Yes! Schnelly, as in Schwarzenegger + Jelly. A sign of destiny. When I was Governor of California, I knew I needed to find the next generation before it was too late. So, I trained Schnelly—and now, I train you.”
Joe shook his head, laughing. “I can’t believe we’re being recruited by the Terminator himself… because of a pig.”
Arnold patted Joe’s shoulder. “Destiny comes in many forms, my friend. And if you accept, the future of action cinema—and maybe even the resistance—will rest in your hands.”
Nelly and Joe exchanged glances. This was no ordinary Hollywood pitch.
