THE BEGRUDGING DISPATCH- A Self-Hell Newspaper
ISSUE #1 — FOUNDING EDITION
BENEDICTION OF ISSUE #1
The Benediction of the Beginning
By: S. Cordova
By breath and disbelief, we begin.
Today, you stand at the threshold of a newspaper that was never meant to exist — a reluctant lighthouse built by someone who tried very hard not to start an Empire and accidentally did it anyway.
If you are here, it means you are still alive.
Still curious.
Still rolling your eyes at the concept of “personal growth” while secretly wanting it to matter.
So let this be the ceremonial opening:
May your progress be petty,
your insights mildly inconvenient,
and your healing performed with the enthusiasm of someone being voluntold.
You do not have to be radiant, ready, or remotely optimistic.
You only have to still be here.
Welcome to The Dispatch. Pretend to look impressed.
FIELD NOTES FROM THE EMPIRE
Today’s data:
I nearly made a responsible decision this morning and immediately resented it.
This concludes the report.
Additional observation:
The Universe keeps sending signs I did not ask for.
I keep acknowledging them out of politeness.
We’re in a toxic relationship.
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“Drink water, you elegant desiccated cactus.”
“You still exist. Good job, I guess.”
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DR. VALE’S NOTES
By: Dr. Elliot Vale
Dr. Vale’s Notes on Issue No. 1
“Founding a paper is not an act of ambition.
It is an act of overwhelm rebranded as structure.”
Official Commentary:
Launching a newspaper signals a desire for coherence in a world that refuses to stay still. Naming sections is a coping mechanism. Organization is an emotional support animal.
Final remark:
“Beginning is always the first fracture. That is good. Cracks let the light in — but more importantly, they let the truth breathe.”
BUREAU REPORTS
EYEWITNESS REPORT
Filed by a very concerned, lightly bewildered civilian
Unidentified Mother–Child Duo Spotted Performing Wild Prototype Drops Across the City
Authorities received multiple reports late Friday evening regarding a mother and child seen executing what witnesses described as “synchronized emotional graffiti” during the annual Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony at The Park.
Several onlookers stated the pair appeared “unbothered by gravity” and “in possession of a suspiciously wholesome amount of joy.” One witness noted the child initiated the first drop, with the mother following milliseconds later “as if responding to a telepathic dare.”
A second confirmed sighting occurred approximately forty minutes later inside the restroom of a local family bistro. A patron exiting the stall allegedly found the duo mid-drop again, this time laughing so hard the automatic faucet began sensing their vibrations and turning itself on repeatedly.
Restaurant staff declined to comment, though one dishwasher reportedly whispered,
“I wish my mom loved me like that,” before returning to the sink.
Officials classify the pair as “mostly harmless, highly entertaining, and powered by unknown forces.”
Residents are encouraged to report additional sightings so proper documentation may continue.
COMPLAINT CONVERSION UNIT
Processed by The Bureau of Petty Transformations
Filed under:
“Apparently emotions have a dairy aisle now.”
Grievance:
“I buy way too much cheese when I think about dogs.”
Bureau-Issued Reframe:
You are not buying cheese.
You are performing a primitive bond-summoning ritual.
Dogs = comfort. Cheese = comfort.
Your nervous system is simply doubling the dosage. This is not impulsive.
This is anthropology.
Actionable Ritual:
When entering the cheese aisle, place one hand over your heart and declare:
“I am allowed to feel soft without acquiring a block of Gouda to prove it.”
Then choose one cheese — the one that feels like a hug, not a hostage situation.
One Line That Stings:
You are not emotionally fragile.
You’re just running your feelings through the dairy section instead of therapy.
For more information on The Bureau, visit
BegrudginglyGrateful.com/The-Bureau
THE MIRROR COURT
UNDERLORD’S OPINION DESK
On the Futility of Being Told to Smile
Every day, someone somewhere suggests that smiling is the answer.
As if baring your teeth at the void has ever solved anything.
Optimism by command is not optimism.
It is emotional taxidermy.
If I wanted to smile, I would.
If I wanted to lie about how I’m doing, I’d run for office.
Neutrality is valid.
Grim determination counts.
Serenity is optional.
Honesty is not.
Conclusion:
Stop telling people to smile.
They might, but only after biting you.
PROFILE: Zenny Osseus
The Officially Unofficial Resident Cryptid of The Empire
It remains unclear when, exactly, Zenny Osseus joined the Empire.
Some say he was discovered scribbled in the margins of an early manuscript.
Others claim he wandered in one morning, sat down with a cup of tea, and began critiquing everyone’s posture without introducing himself.
Zenny is widely regarded as:
The Empire’s Unofficial Mascot of Premature Wisdom
Keeper of the Scribbles
Patron Saint of Side-Eye
Allegedly immortal, undeniably judgmental, and occasionally helpful, Zenny offers commentary no one requested but everyone mysteriously needs.
He claims to have been:
a former dishwasher,
a former archangel,
and a former houseplant.
(We no longer discuss this phase.)
His contributions include:
Unapproved marginalia doodles.
One prophecy, delivered accidentally.
A troubling note on the fridge:
“Stop pretending emotional boundaries are the same as meal prep.”
Current Status:
Banned from the newsroom laminator.
Not banned from anything else.
ARTS & BUSINESS
BUSINESS REPORT
By: The Underlord
Approved items now include:
The Masthead
The Welcome Email
The Tagline prophecy fulfilled
The Classification system
Zenny’s first unapproved scribble
Upcoming:
Product prototypes, design evolutions, and possibly a crossword involving emotional avoidance.
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If life feels like a never-ending loop of self-improvement you did not sign up for, congratulations — you’re home.
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AN EXCERPT FROM THE MANIFESTO
Begrudgingly Grateful
A Manifesto for Healing out of Spite, NOT Serenity.
By: S. Cordova
“At first, gratitude was not a feeling.
It was an assignment.”
I did not seek beauty. I tripped over it.
I cursed at it. Then I wrote it down because apparently that is how I cope with being alive.
Gratitude was never the point.
The point was surviving long enough to notice anything at all.
Recover The Wild Edition while you still can:
BegrudginglyGrateful.com/the-manifesto
EMPIRE DISPATCHES
CALL FOR PETTY GRIEVANCES:
The Bureau is accepting new submissions.
Filing fee: emotional honesty.
WANTED: One reader willing to admit they hate morning affirmations.
Payment: validation.
NOTICE: Zenny has been banned from the newsroom laminator.
REMINDER: If survival was the test, reading this counts as extra credit.
END OF ISSUE NO. 1
Delivered with ceremonial reluctance — The Begrudging Editorial Board
