An Orgiastic Porcine Feast (Redux)

25.09.202512.10.2025 Arvin da BrghaLeave a comment

‡This blog is a return of a dream blog shared more than a decade ago. I am adding it here rather than my usual focus on principals of the House of Windsor and the evolving relations. I have chosen to take a break this month as I am working on a more detailed blog for next round. Besides, after the animus from last month’s blog, “To Be A Princess, You Have to Be Born A Princess.” I am so wary of predominantly Americans having decided that Meghan is Princess Meghan, Duchess Meghan et al. Why must Americans always decide that they must put their take on everything, because as it was – in this case royal styles and titles – of course it was all wrong until they decided to fix it.

**THR Prince William and Catherine, the Prince & Princess of Wales, September, 2025**

Let me take the time to share this photo that left me brimming with joy. Never before has Catherine, HRH The Princess of Wales looked more glorious; furthermore, William wore the Windsor uniform and has his left hand on his wife’s waist. Someone chided me because I posted this image on my Instagram; they wanted to know how I could do so when I hate them. Firstly, you can hate no one. I will never forget how my lips trembled and I grew teary as Catherine stood there in her Sarah Burton for Alexander McQueen wedding dress, at the foot of the aisle. She was in closeup, looking at the dean of Westminster Abbey and smiled her earring matching her eyes sparkle. You can never eclipse a winning wow moment like that. Heck, everyone told me to be quiet as I began yelling at William and telling him to get up and sit properly but to remain standing until his new bride was sat in the landau. Then Meghan came along and they proved themselves far too human and myopic without realising the gravity of their roles. Meghan could never be a threat; they are both in their destined role as further King and Queen Consort/King Mother as was the case previously when William was then King Henry IV and Catherine his first wife, Mary, who died young. As Meghan was Margaret Beaufort and thus no reincarnational pushover, boundaries clearly had to be set and the current arrangement is the best way to have establish one’s self-respect and dignity and not be subjected to a insufferable, racially predatory degrading work/life experience.

**Return, Oil Painting ©2025 Gordon Shadrach**

These next dreams occurred on March, 26; however, rather than 1995, they occurred in 1998. I was then resident in Montréal. What’s more, the day was Thursday and at the time, the Moon transited both Pisces and my tenth house.

It was a rather long, involved, operatic dream and it was an encounter with an extra-human (ET) species never before encountered in the dreamtime. Hey, you want to believe that Mary lay down and gave birth without once having beautifully made love like every other woman and that the universe was made simply for unimaginative human dolts to gaze in the sky and praise their made up deity, knock yourself out.

The purpose of being incarnate is to explore intellect or else we are merely nothing more than semi-feral simians over-breeding and out of season at that… That having been said, the purpose of being awakened in the dream realms is so that one can awaken to the personal truth that all of life is experiential.

It is not for you, dear reader, to project and read into what the dreams shared herein are about, any more than it is good work to go crossing to the other side of the street, more firmly clutching your handbag, at the sight of me – Black male – approaching; I don’t want your fucking handbag… you pigeon-toed dolt…

After having read the next dream, please try and fathom the futility of trying to ‘read’ the signs of dreams. Experiences in the dream realms are as real, at times even more so, as the regurgitated maya-saturated dreck we daily drudge our way through oftentimes somnambulantly…

Why do I dream as I do… choice, of course. I chose to thusly be focussed in this incarnation. I do not nor have I ever done drugs; no shrooms, DMT, Ayahuasca, no LSD, hell, I do not look at television, do not own a television… it is mindlessness… the last time that I watched television was to look at both inaugurations of President Barack H. Obama and between those events, the royal wedding of William & Catherine – so beautiful when any two souls find each other in this vast universe – and you know that I’ve watched it repeatedly on DVD since… I choose being focussed in each moment of being incarnate whether awake or asleep; and trust you me with the amount of fear and bullshit in the waking state one needs the grounding and fluidity of the dream realms to repair the spirit. Of course, being focussed in the dreamtime is a function of being a sixth positioned, late-mature artisan; if I don’t like what’s going down on channel one, I’ve got four other options – who needs TV, seriously? Of course, why do drugs when crystals, isolation tanks and pyramids can do wonders for harmonising and focussing the mind, body and spirit to afford the unfoldment of intellect – especially when focussed in the dream realms… imagination is everything… besides, as a sceptic, it did not take too long before I realised that choosing the easy route in life looked like no end of ennui…

**Tall Tundra Bird ©2013 Kenojuak Ashevak**

Now before you dismissively sniff, let’s move on to the reason why you are here, to be richly inspired by my spirit’s light as it manifests when in the dreamtime… there is negligible growth in fearfulness… pay keen attention to how I chose to respond to the dream experience as it unfolded; I’d be honoured if it inspires you…

Here, in this the first dream, I was lucidly awakened. Night-time found me with a friend whose sex I am not now certain of. The person was about my height and seemed energetically to be a man.

As we walked on a wide boulevard, up ahead I noticed that the street dead-ended. Beyond it was an empty lot. Here it was bright out though not necessarily a full Moon. Here the energies were strange, just a tad off. The buildings all around were made of red brick, like those buildings at Ellis Island New York where Eurotrash descended like feral jackals in the last century.

This place left me feeling as if I were in Brooklyn, New York City. The buildings were reminiscent of Brooklyn brownstones except that these were six to eight storeys tall. Set back a bit from the road, these were though rather colossal buildings. What was weird about it all was that the entire area seemed to have been long deserted.

Something about these houses just didn’t seem right. Sure enough, someone headed down the street towards us. Finding the place a bit on the creepy side, we had only noticed him for having turned around to check out the lay of the land. Swarthy, he had a full thick beard with a look that was not readily discernible. He could well have been North African, Hispanic, Jewish, Arabic or even Italian. His look was a mélange of so many ethnicities.

He wore a parka which struck me as odd as it was not cold out; neither, for that matter, were we dressed for cold weather. Joining us, he began speaking to us warmly with energies that were nonthreatening. I had been the one to have initiated dialogue. When heading down towards the dead-ended street, he had joined us in the middle of the block. As he walked, I encouraged him to walk between us. I pointed out that the buildings seemed like those at Ellis Island which were featured in the film, Brother From Another Planet in which Merlin’s friend the actor, Noëll Saltmarche starred.

As I had never been to Ellis Island, I added that I couldn’t be sure that it was as much. Perhaps, I speculated, it was that part of Brooklyn in the neighbourhood of the Verrazano Narrows Bridge. However, he shrugged off the suggestion; he seemingly was more confident of its location than either my friend or I were. As we progressed, I asked why exactly we were headed towards this dead-end in the boulevard anyway. So we turned around and when I went to look up into the face of this burly brawny man to smile, I noticed the sky just beyond his towering face. He was a warrior-spirited man with a great deal of Jovian energies to his body.

Here, there were a phenomenal number of intensely bright stars in the night sky. One constellation caught my eye but left me confused as to whether it was Orion or Pegasus. I pointed out its odd formation in the sky but the stranger pointed out that it was nothing really. He seemed much too casual about it all. Clearly, he was trying to distract me from cluing into what was up here.

Right away, I grew wary of his motives and wondered what all of this was about anyway. My friend looked up and confirmed that this was not the heavens as, in the waking state, we perceived them from Sol local. Absently, he said aloud that there was something weird about this which there was. In the sky was white light in the shape of an arrow which led from what was clearly Orion off to another constellation. I remarked that there were never arrows in the sky before, either from Orion or any other constellation. Obviously, there was something about all this that was not Kansan in the least.

It seemed highly improbable that there would be any manmade objects in orbit that would be in the shape of an arrow. With that I suggested that we walk back rather than proceed any further. Artfully, I claimed, wanting to go explore the other streets. I said that I wanted to explore the architecture in the neighbourhood which I describe as being charming. Though the buildings were mostly red brick, there were some architectural signatures which were of pale sandstone that nicely set off the red brick. They were, however, far and few between. The colossal buildings here tended to have clock towers on them for the most part. The taller the buildings rose in the sky the more they receded ziggurat-like with towers of impressive neo-Gothic spires.

My keen sense impression was alerted to there being something odd about these buildings. To my way of thinking, they seemed merely façade for something else entirely different. Most of all, I knew quite lucidly that I was dreaming – which is to say that, at any time, I could collapse the experience by tuning vibrationally away from this place. Yet my curiosity was piqued by the outréness of the place. This is why I had been keenly observant of the stranger’s energies. For this reason, so as not to awaken any alien and possible inimical response in him, I had been warm and engaging with him.

Even his parka seemed so much cover, hiding god-only-knows-what outréness about his physique, which would prove alien to humans’. In a friendly but dismissing gesture, I went to place my hand on his arm – to affectionately pat him – pointing out that it was good to have seen him and hoped to see him around some time. I again touched him, this time just beyond his wrist, only to feel a skin that was covered throughout with large knobby clumps. For the life of me I couldn’t tell whether these were clumps of his hirsute hairs forming into little dreadlock clusters or the fact that he was diseased. If the latter, perhaps, it was his reason for wearing the parka. Either way, it just didn’t seem all that right to me.

It was as if the skin of a crocodile or at least as one would expect it to feel. Though it was most bizarre, I kept direct eye contact with him; I chose never to betray dread or fear in what sinister extra-human this could possibly be. Saying that he would stay behind to study the stars, he agreed to say so long. As we headed back trying not to do so, too hurriedly, I looked off to the right and noticed a spectacular array of stars in the sky. Both of us stopped to marvel at the beauty and intensity of the stellar concentration. It was as if being close to the hub of our galaxy, it was quite fantastic.

Just then, I noticed yet another arrow streaking through the blackness of interstellar space; this one considerably longer than the one which streaked from Orion. From our extra-stellar perspective, both Orion and Pegasus seemed to have collided several million light years earlier and left an amalgam of both. It was all very strange. The head of the arrow, plus a bit of its stem, had been protruding from Orion. Now with this newly discovered arrow, its light was made of black light.

Even against the blackness of interstellar space, it was a discernibly black light. It was considerably longer than the white arrow. To my right, its point was headed away from the street on which we stood truly spellbound. It was at a fifteen degree angle to the deserted street. Since there was something much too weird about it all, we decided to turn back. What’s more, the man was no longer with us. Though extra-human he may be, it was good to have had anyone rather than no one.

On turning back, though we had only taken a few steps, the man was no longer anywhere to be seen. Certainly, he couldn’t have entered any of the buildings as they were far too removed from the sidewalk for him to have dodged into any of them. Quite simply, he had vanished into thin air. My companion said matter-of-factly, “Oh well. He’s definitely an extra-human and has beamed up.” Even if he had leapt into the sky to take flight, we would have at least seen him aloft, yet he was nowhere to be found. There was definitely something afoot here.

I told my friend that we had to make ourselves as scarce as possible; thus, walking briskly to the point of being on the verge of jogging, we took off. However, looking as menacing as one would expect sinister extra-humans to be posturing, two other men had immediately come from the buildings up the road. Again, they looked pretty much of the same stock as the disappeared, parka-clad extra-human did and were also just as abundantly hirsute. They were exceptionally tall, close to seven feet, and seemed as if hobos.

That, of course, was all part of their camouflage. However, it was not their true identity. I told my companion that we simply had to split up, to confuse them, he agreed.

With that, I pushed off immediately and took to flight. Now I was flying, at great speeds, veering off to the left though I had been on my companion’s left. Going along a street after having sped across a row of identical, red-bricked colossal buildings, I flew on ahead. As I flew on, I looked after myself to find them standing there on the ground. Surveilling me keenly, with an intense fixed gaze, they stood there on the street below. It was as though, by means of telepathy, they were recording my flight to transmit it live elsewhere. I then noticed as I flew overtop the city that there were never any persons on the streets.

However, from time to time, one would see the same kinds of people like the hirsute stranger who in his charming way had at one point had his arm around us whilst directing us ahead. Had we not been aware, he could well have captured us. What was of concern to me, rather than their camouflaged, none-too-convincing human disguise, was how these persons looked in their natural state. Who knows what their agendum was? Were they here to hurt us? Did we represent nothing more to them but food? Were we dispensable collateral?

Were their interests solely in seizing the planet for their species and as such Earthlings were like Africans, squatting on valuable resource-rich, real estate, are perceived by the rest of humanity? This left me thinking of how very vulnerable we are for being here isolated on this planet. We are as if truly alone in this sector of the galaxy. Of course, like any individual long isolated, we humans have been a deeply troubled fragmented tribe. How pray tell would we fare if we were to be visited by an aggressive species of Extra-humans?

One rather suspects that they would care little about who was who on the racial pecking order but see us all as dispensable. We are not a united species and for that there would be no way that we could prove anywhere of a threat to any species with designs of a hostile intervention on this planet. These people walking about in human camouflage were quite Wotanesque in stature and looked very healthy indeed. Clearly, neither Earth nor humans posed an inimical proposition for their agenda however sinister or otherwise. Following the streets below, rather than staying over any of the colossal buildings, I kept on flying over the city. Too, I remained not too high as I didn’t want to be tracked by the Extra-humans.

Besides, who knew if there was some ‘cloaked’ spaceship of theirs hovering invisibly just above the rooftops. This would leave me vulnerable to being readily attacked or apprehended by them.

Eventually, I flew on ahead and came to an area where more of the same buildings enclosed a square. Here the buildings were ancient and were built such that it was reminiscent of being in Lower Manhattan, where that part of town was built during the early part of the 20^th century. On arriving at one building, I hovered above the courtyard or the back thereof. Just as I was about to alight on a ledge, I looked for an open window. I discovered an open window so slowly began alighting towards it. Before touching down, I saw a young Chinese woman inside it who looked like a student. I remained hovering in the air outside and slightly above the window observing her as she paced neurotically about the room.

She was speaking to herself and was noticeably upset about something. Exasperated, she sighed heavily saying, “I just can’t take this anymore. I have to do this…” With that she came and stood on the ledge of the wide-open large window in what seemed like an industrial-building-turned-loft-space. She squatted on the sill, wearing black pants which revealed her wide-hipped with a burgundy-coloured top over top that. She would have been in her early twenties but very intense.

Hers was a cramped, very beautifully laid out apartment which reminded me of my tiny apartment at 425-1915 Haro Street in Vancouver’s West End. Even down to the walls, they were the same cream-coloured affair as that apartment of mine. Before I knew what next, she pushed off and began falling straight down to the ground. Never once did she make a single sound. She landed hard with a thump that had a massive sonic impact on the environment. This I think was because of the gravity of what she had just done. Definitely, there was no way that she had survived this fall. In an old building with high-ceilinged floors, she had been more than five storeys up.

She fell into the courtyard where it was damp below. At the time of her suicide, there was no one about to witness her violent exit. I then landed on the same sill just after she pushed off. I had no intentions of trying to stop her as it was fairly obvious that she was determined to carry out her deed. The whole thing was much too massive, karmically, for me to have tried intervening. I didn’t know the score – what was motivating her to do what she did. Like all suicides, what she was doing carried too massive a psychic burden for me to have become entangled with her.

Since I needed desperately a place to hide out, her place seemed ideal. Her untidy, selfish exit was all very convenient for me. On entering her just-vacated apartment, I began exploring it. The place was a very scholarly-looking dwelling. There was no getting around the fact that this woman was a Scholar Soul. She was quite a well-organised student. Off in one corner was a kitchenette where she clearly did like to cook. Lots of seasonings and drying herbs were stuffed everywhere in the kitchenette. Though a tiny space, every nook and cranny of it was perfectly laid out and compartmentalised.

Taking the time, I tried to get a good appreciation of her just concluded life. To that end, I went pouring deftly through every square inch of the place. I absorbed all the clues to her life and emotional makeup as exhibited by her dwelling. One had the sense that this woman was so tightly strung that suicide would seem to have been a most logical solution to a major crisis. I tried not to leave fingerprints about. To that end, I had grabbed a piece of fabric from the kitchen that was green and white though not checkered. I used it to pull drawers and items open as I poured through the place. All that I wanted to know was where the devil was the door from her tiny apartment that led out to the hallway.

Each time that I opened a door, the cloth in hand covering the knob, it would lead into yet another well-stocked, cramped closet. After having cautiously opened yet another door, only to find no such thing as a door to the hallway, it became a bit amusing. One door, which I was convinced led to the hallway, led right into her bathroom which was fragrant-smelling. To say the least, it was quite nicely stocked and ladylike a place. The kitchenette was beautiful with a wonderful rack system in which she kept all her fresh vegetables. There I saw spaghetti squashes, on one shelf, whilst above that ripening tomatoes. Still below the squashes were onions, garlic, shallots.

Interestingly, she used the slat-filled crates in which produce was shipped to stores, converting them into a drawer storage system in which her produce were stored. In that way, they were able to breathe without growing mold and going bad. This was so beautifully organised that it was quite good to have seen. I was saddened that she had had to choose suicide rather than seek some other resolution to her crisis whatever it was. I thought that for having experienced her dwelling that she was a beautiful person which only made her passing that much more tragic a loss. I was saddened after having taken a tour of the place.

In all honesty, it had never been my intentions to do any such thing but in the end that’s what happened as each door led me to anywhere but the hallway. I wanted to be able to leave the apartment unobserved without, having disturbed anything, giving the impression that I had been an intruder. From there I had planned to go downstairs, and take my leave of the building, so as to blend in with the locals. Off to the left of the window, on entering, was a door which originally I had assumed was a broom closet. In the end, it would prove to be the apartment’s front door but there were no demarcations on it to suggest that it was such.

The bathtub was a tiny affair which couldn’t have accommodated anyone other than a child. Adults would have to stand up and take a shower rather than attempt taking a bath therein. The whole style here was decidedly 1930s, in the deco style though not exclusively. The student had a laptop computer over on a desk on which were, piled high, all manner of books. Rather a beautiful space, this place. An old faded rug dominated the central living space which was not especially large. The main room was not square as over in one corner the lines were broken to accommodate the bathroom area. Diagonally, was the alcove which led to the front door, next to the single large window which flooded the room with light.

The window was a sliding affair whose bottom half slid up to open. A lone futon was the only signs of a sleeping area which I suspect she customarily never had time to open beyond the sofa position. The desk with laptop was directly across the room from the large open window. Off to the left, beyond another alcove, and across the room was the door which led to the kitchen. Once inside, there were tiny, white, quarter inch square tiles covering the kitchenette floor. Intentionally faded, the look was caesarean Rome.

In back of the sofa, there was a wall of bookcases. Every square inch of each crammed, of course, plus there were lively, healthy hanging plants cascading from on top. One didn’t get the sense that she owned a pet besides which I didn’t see one. The bookcase unit created a partition of sorts around which she could retreat to get undressed. Obviously, this woman did not entertain. A very studious woman she was. Wondered as to what could have caused her to have snapped. It didn’t seem as if she were the type to become caught up in some intense amour fou ménage à trois, in which she was betrayed and lost out in the end.

More than likely, she had probably failed miserably on her exams. Or perhaps she had been found out cheating in which case the only way out for her was suicide rather than be expelled and dishonoured. I really did feel for her loss. Going to the apartment’s front door, I slowly pried it open cautiously. Before doing so, listening to see if there was anyone outside who would possibly see me, I had stood there a long while. Seeing that it was the dead of night, I thought better of being so overly cautious as there was likely no one outside. Indeed, hearing that there was no one outside, I slowly opened the door only to have discovered the bathroom. It was hysterical indeed.

Eventually, I did find the nondescript alcove through which one entered and exited the beautiful little apartment. Sure enough, this was the apartment’s front door. The large window was the second to last from the end of the building; however, there was a stairwell close by as soon as you got into the hallway. She was in the back of the building and looking to the courtyard; once outside in the hallway, the building was laid out confusingly. There was a large, grand square formation staircase in this wing of the building which led downstairs.

Looking below it was quite the drop to the bottom which was a marble-tiled affair. A long-haired White male student had just left his apartment and heard when I closed the door to the Oriental’s. His was dirty blond and parted in the center. Familiarly, he had called out to her, calling her ‘Junko’ which is definitely a Japanese name. On seeing me, he became immediately concerned… understandably. He knew that she almost never had anyone in her apartment. Even more awkward was the fact that I couldn’t tell him that his friend had just committed suicide.

More than that, there was the matter of her apartment window being open with her dead body below in the courtyard. This did not look good for me at all. He naturally had every right to assume that for having seen me leave her place – a total stranger – that I had been an interloper who, once confronted, had shoved her to her death. It was the only logical thing to have concluded and race had nothing whatsoever to do with that conclusion. Junko, a loner, wouldn’t have had a stranger there. Seemingly, this was a student’s residence connected to some university or other. Naturally, he would have known that I was not a resident in the building.

Since I was clearly out of sorts there, I doubled back on myself. Only further implicating myself, I made my way into a tiny, narrow wooden fire escape. This was, of course, inside the building itself. On leaving the building, in a bit of a rush, I noticed two women standing outside. Wearing outfits which made much noise when they walked, these women were unusually dressed. There were tiny squares of bronzish-purple colour which were made of pliant hard plastic. They stood at the foot of a wonderful old European cobblestone bridge that spanned a river; it was not as wide as the river Thames is at Westminster Abbey.

All the fixtures here were beautiful, rich with black art nouveau lampposts from a bygone era. Their lights cascaded over, like hanging plant in bloom. They were on the left side of the bridge when looking towards the city’s other bank. Standing there, they solicited by handing out flyers. I for one didn’t want to get too involved in the crowd that they were attracting. Then again, I didn’t want to make myself conspicuous by snubbing them. Instead, after having taken the flyer then feigned reading it whilst hurrying away along the bridge, I pretended to be in a hurry. Here, as I crossed the bridge, the sunlight was beginning to come up.

The first thing that I noticed on crossing the bridge was that all the buildings here were like those first seen which reminded me of Ellis Island. Something was quite so off about this entire place. Seeing a table close by, I decided to go there to sit and get my bearings. There were already three women seated at the table. Approaching them, I asked if they would mind my sitting there. It was a large round table at an outdoor café. It wasn’t until sitting down that I noticed in my hand the same dish cloth, so as not to leave my fingerprints lying about, which I had been using back at ‘Junko’s’ apartment to handle everything.

Discreetly, I placed it on my right thigh to make it look like a napkin. My back was being bathed by the rising sun behind me as I drank in the energies all about me. The women were visiting warmly, laughing and enjoying themselves. These were genuinely happy persons. Not wanting to intrude on them by doing or saying anything, I ordered something to eat. They told me not to mind them as they visited and I assured them that I would be quite okay keeping to myself. The next thing that I knew, however, some undercover cops showed up. They apprehended me and placed me under arrest. Feigning ignorance, I asked what they were talking about. Yet deep within I knew that, my having been in Junko’s university residence and after having been seen by her long-haired friend, I was a prime suspect.

Of course, no one had shoved Junko to her death any more than Junko had willed her way to her death with great forcefulness. They told me to stop pretending because they had gotten a good description of me from a key witness who had discovered Junko’s body. Apparently, many persons living in the complex had seen me leaving. Basically, they had pieced together a scenario not wildly removed from what I had long concluded: that there had been a struggle between Junko and me when I broke into her apartment. Naturally, being larger than her, I had been able to shove her through the window of her apartment to her death. They told me that one of the witnesses had heard Junko scream.

This I knew was bullshit as I recalled distinctly Junko never once having made a sound as she violently tossed her body to her death. Needless to say, this was not what had happened but naturally this made sense as they made a science of pinning me with her death. The officers then instructed me to look to my left as further proof of my having been the perpetrator of Junko’s demise. There, I noticed that the wall was a reddish-to-sandstone colour which looked like fired clay. Nicely camouflaged against it was a ladder which was of the same material and colour. Its purpose was for getting one up to the building’s fire escape system. This, of course, only further cemented their case against me.

They accused me of having used that ladder to make it onto the fire escape. As it turned out that building though on the other side of the river was part of the same complex in which Junko lived. That having been the case, it stood to reason that after having murdered her, I had slid down the fire escape then sat there at the table taking a meal. All of this conjecture when I didn’t even know the women with whom I shared a table. True enough. This definitely did not look good. They got me up, carrying me to a low-riding yellow transport. A lone Black woman stood there looking on at me with a look of deep anguish warping her face.

To protect its passenger, the yellow transport had flaps on it. There was little room inside as I sat down low to the ground – the flap covering me up from being made a shameful spectacle whilst being transported. Soon I was joined by a Black female officer who came inside the already crowded transport. Before I knew what next, she began groping me being really aggressive about it too. More than that, she was really squeezing on my balls. Ouch! Forcefully, without missing a beat, I began violently kicking at her and told her to fuck off. Kicking her aside, I shoved aside the flap and bolted from the transport.

As it travelled, seemingly on autopilot, I had been sitting with my back to the front of the transport as it travelled. My transport was part of a long caravan of similar transports. Obviously, the other cars were filled with other convicts whom they had already picked up. I intended not to be part of their daily catch. As the others were quite prepared to be hauled off to some holding cell or other somewhere, I had no such ambitions. This was much too ridiculous. Escaping, by not running but simply soaring high into the air at fantastic speeds, I simply took my leave of the place. My destination was back to the complex where Junko had committed suicide. If only to somehow right an injustice, I wanted to return to the scene of the crime. I wanted to see if they had already removed the body.

I alighted onto the sill of the open window which was opposite Junko’s across the courtyard. Naturally, this apartment was set up differently as it was reversed to Junko’s. I entered, only to find a young White woman there who was all skin and bones, definitely she was suffering from anorexia nervosa. As a matter of fact, she was so skinny as to look otherworldly as though an astral plane habitué or an extra-human. On closer inspection, I noticed that her complexion was definitely not human rather she was yellowish-white. Not unlike the extra-humans in the, Ron Howard film, Cocoon, was she.

Throwing water on her body, she was seated in the quarter-sized tub. Further scrutiny revealed that she hadn’t any hair on her oversized cranium. This was not a situation where she was bald for having undergone chemotherapy rather she was void any hair whatsoever. Clearly, I had long flown the coop which is Kansas. There was no escaping the fact that this woman was an extra-human. It took a while before she noticed me and when she did she fixed me with jet-black oversized eyes. Quite simply, she was bizarre-looking. Depending on her moods, thoughts or emotions, her skin seemed to glow at varying intensities. There was a yellowish hue to it but not as if she suffered from jaundice.

In that sense she looked as if made of time-yellowed old ceramics. My initial thought was, “Well I’m definitely not going to want any pussy off you.”

With that I didn’t even waste time making for the door, I simply tuned out; thus, I effortlessly moved through the wall of her apartment and went into the hallway. On this side of the courtyard, the building was set out differently than at Junko’s across the courtyard. From there, I went to the apartment where Junko had lived until recently. On entering, I was stunned to find that it was completely gutted and as if having been ravaged by a fire. There was not a sign of furniture anywhere. More than that, the man whom my companion and I had originally met on the street, the brawny, Wotanesque supra-hirsute, was now there. Clearly, he was there to capture me.

With him was an old man who was quite tall. Toothless, the man was at least an octogenarian with a briskness of energies which was reminiscent of Isadore da Braga’s. This, of course, would leave me to believe that this mercurial man was a priest soul. Furthermore, he was the quintessential ‘Dark Priest’ archetype. There was a fanatical zeal about him which was unmistakably priestly. As far as he was concerned, I was the enemy and to that end I had to be captured if not eliminated. He came to get me. At that, I flew up and went beneath a steel staircase where I held on to its underside. Looking like a fly on a ceiling, there I hung upside down.

Both men had been outside on a fire escape a few storeys below where I had been in Junko’s former apartment. They had looked up and seen me there because on this visit much of the building was now gutted, not just Junko’s former apartment. Remaining where I was, I waited for them to enter my wing of the complex. As soon as they did so, I flew out the window from beneath the staircase’s underside. On noticing me, sounding pretty much like a cave filled with bats in heat, the priestly accomplice furiously screamed. Flying close to the building, I dropped down a few storeys and then dodged back inside the building through another of its windows. Once I had alighted, I set off running at full speed through the building’s cavernous labyrinthine interior; thus I tried to lose them in my wake.

I managed to have eventually made my way outside where I saw them again. Much to my surprise, they had already captured the other human with whom I had originally been. Presently, they were torturing him which was not the most pleasant of sights; nor was it anything with which I remotely wanted to have become familiar. He was being fisted by these truly sadistic men with the old dark priest man really getting off on the torture. I shuddered as I watched them reach in and pull out his innards. This was serious shit. Literally! I was immediately reminded of my youth in Sandy Point, St. Kitts when I would go to the market on the weekends and watch the animals being gutted. It was truly grim.

There was definitely something wrong with this image and it had to be stopped. I simply couldn’t abide that being done to a friend. What next happened was truly amazing, I saw that there were lots of pigs in a clearing in a slot. This looked pretty much like one was on New York City’s 5^th Avenue going down towards Amsterdam Square. They stood there in the open area of the abandoned street, in the equally abandoned city. There was a great deal of pig feed everywhere. Looking very white and on the hideous side, all of the pigs were shaved. Presently, they were in a feeding frenzy; the look and sound of them being truly gross.

One of them I noticed had been neurotically twitching. Closer inspection revealed that its arse was exceptionally fat. It seemed as if it were trying to either have a big dump or even give birth. Quite bizarre! The stuff which started coming out of its arse was basically the pig’s innards. Right away, I realised that there had to have been a connection to the companion of mine who had been fisted to the point of having the life, literally yanked out of him by way of his innards. Clearly, these pigs were totemic animals for what few genuine humans there were among this culture of disguised extra-humans; though, as in the case of the female bather, they were not all in disguise.

I thought that, perhaps, they were doing this to the human as this was the way that they achieved a sexual high. It then dawned on me that, perhaps, the pigs were more so representative of the extra-humans rather than being totems which the extra-humans had fashioned of their human captives.

With that in mind, I got a torch and approached the twitching pig’s body setting it ablaze. I figured that it was connected to my companion or the persons torturing him. True enough, I could hear cries of protest from the next block away where the human was being tortured. The other street was off to the left whilst facing the pigs. When I attacked, the pigs were feeding in a tight frenzied cluster. Definitely, it was the extra-human with whom my companion and I had been speaking who screamed aloud as the pig burnt.

The pig was more than his familiar. They were both connected and such that his response was a simpatico psychic phenomenon which didn’t need for them to be in close quarters for the extra-human to have experienced the terror which the squealing pig did. It was definitely his voice. Then and there, I knew that I was on to something. Immediately, I began setting all the pigs afire. Enraged the extra-human stopped screaming and headed in my direction to exact his revenge. Obviously, these pigs were further-disguised extra-humans which were more so in accord with their true nature than not. What was telling about these pigs was that they were the same yellow-white colour as the lone extra-human female whom I had seen taking a bath – in the apartment across the courtyard from Junko’s.

Indeed, it was on seeing the pig’s complexion that I was able to make the connection to the humanoid extra-humans which was more disguise than not. Closer inspection made me realise that the pigs were not feeding exclusively but were rather engaging in group sex. It seemed that they had at least two sex organs in the rear and possibly one or more close to their hideous faces. So their eating was for the most part a sexual act. Their large exposed sex organs in the rear could have made it look as though they were being disemboweled; however, they were in a state of arousal. Truth be told, the pig behaving neurotically was more accurately in the throes of orgasm.

Their bodies were shaped differently to a pig’s. Truth be told, these creatures did look from their long-backed selves more like a greyhound’s or even an upright creature which had reverted to walking on all fours. This was so confusing when initially I had assumed that the twitching neurotic pig was going into labour; rather, it was having sex. The pigs were having sex because their humanoid fellow extra-humans were having a sexual high for torturing my companion. Obviously, both these extra-humans had a symbiotic relationship of some sort. After having discovered their weakness, I set about to destroy the pig-like creatures who were having an orgy disguised as a feeding frenzy.

Whilst doing this, so that together we could suppress the extra-humans among us, I screamed aloud calling for help from other humans. As the other pig-like creatures were being set afire, they were so obese that it was hard for them to have taken flight. Meanwhile, no humans had appeared on the scene to come to my aid. Soon enough, I noticed that there was an outflow of extra-humans from all the abandoned-looking buildings on the street. They were all the same tall, Wotanesque supra-hirsute types as the original extra-human who had befriended my companion and me. They looked truly enraged – deadly even. Without exceptions, they all wore parkas. I do believe that the parkas were to maintain a certain body temperature and to block out as much natural sunlight as possible.

Too, there seemed to be some parasitic culture to which their bodies played host and which needed to be protected by the parkas. Indeed, the parkas were more than likely their space suits as it were. Sure enough, the two extra-humans – who had been looking at me, when I initially had taken to the air – I saw again coming down the street towards me. I was quite aware that though they never took flight, any of these extra-humans, that they were quite capable of doing so. I had seen them do as much. Earlier, when escaping the two back at the abandoned complex where Junko lived, the unusually tall octogenarian-seeming zealot had come flying after me whilst screaming much like a pig so enraged was he.

As they came towards me, they began screaming as if their bodies were afire. They pleaded with me not to do as much to them. The more they tried to come closer, the more their progress became laborious – to the point where they could no longer move. They were arrested by fear and by a psychic terror that was crippling. Their bodies in conjunction with the burning pig-like creatures experienced immolation. Though they were not on fire they were being burnt. As the pig-like creatures’ bodies burnt away, the extra-humans’ bodies correspondingly simply began disappearing. It was as though they were being erased or being made invisible, in patches, throughout their bodies.

Indeed, perhaps, these Wotanesque humanoids were merely holographic projections. Quite frankly, I had the upper hand. Though they wanted me to stop, I told them no way. They had already unleashed their sadistic terror on humans, therefore they deserved just retribution. Before I knew what next, there appeared above them in the sky a massive flame. Blue, it looked like the flame from a gas range. It was a square formation rather than the quintessential flying saucer shape of conventional human extra-human vehicle wisdom. Hovering there, it undulated whilst spewing out little red charges of flame.

The flame was a live entity which immediately began speaking. It did make biblical references to ‘Jeremiah’ and to Christ having been murdered. Telling me that it was wrong of me to have attacked the extra-humans, of which it was obviously in favour, the flame was speaking to me. I didn’t, of course, see his Flameness anywhere in the sky, pontificating whilst my companion was being fisted and disemboweled. The energy given off by the blue flame entity were extremely intense. I was convinced that the flame had appeared to retaliate against me, in the extra-humans’ defence; instead, he was there to deal with the extra-humans.

What I could gather from what transpired here was that the flame was an extra-human bounty hunter; he, the flame, was on the hunt for fugitives which in essence is what this colony of sadistic extra-humans represented. As the extra-humans were afire, this created a tear in the fabric of their cloaking devices which made it possible for the fugitives to be detected. As a result, the flame was – so to speak – beaming up the fugitives who were suffering immolation. Though they feared being on fire, it was clear that they didn’t want to be captured by the flame. For being in distress, they set off the signatures which allowed their pursuers to locale them across Space.

Clearly, these extra-humans had the ability to jump space and possible travel cross time. The voice from the flaming entity in the sky had a booming strong resonant voice which was reminiscent of the actor, James Earl Jones’s. The booming voice made several references to human history – all of which were fairly accurate and impressive. With that, the flaming entity in the sky started consuming the pig-like creatures which were screeching whilst on fire in the middle of the street. As it consumed the creatures, it was clear that they did not relish their fate. There were no illusions as to the fate of these extra-humans. They were being relocated elsewhere and it was definitely to their home which was nowhere on this planet.

I then realised that the buildings, which all looked like they were out on Ellis Island, actually were the extra-humans’ spaceships which were artfully disguised. All the buildings were on dead-end streets which likely had not existed before. This entire neck of the woods had been artificially made. The whole affair had been plunked down in the middle of nowhere yet made to look like part of a large metropolitan area. It was a factory of sorts. By that I mean that, the captured humans were brought there and subjected to various forms of the hunt. Afterwards, they were captured outright and subjected to sadistic torture sessions in which the extra-humans sexually got off.

Quite intriguing, most especially since the real extra-humans were closer to being like pigs than humans.

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Cleo Laine & Ray Charles Porgy & Bess Medley

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You are to Jazz what wings are to an ostrich; what the fuck do eagles care that queer, unaware ostriches have wings?

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Redux: Patron Saint & Queen of the Karens. Victim. Virgin Mother!

19.07.202524.07.2025 Arvin da BrghaLeave a comment

*This blog was originally published in October, 2023. In light of the recent discloser, July 2025, that Catherine’s stylist, Natasha ‘Tash’ Archer has departed with her being exposed as having stalked Meghan and all her inner circle friends and influencers’ Instagram accounts, this does validate my observations that Catherine has used clothing to be racially predatory of Meghan by cannibalising most of Meghan’s looks. Do enjoy anew!

**Jealous Peggalicious Preys Whilst Scorned Ekaterina Deliberately Flirts with Thespian & His Beard**

Well, of course, the Venus Flytrap-pussied broodmare is damn well going to flirt after having been brushed off days earlier at the Polo. So there was she, patron of the All England Lawn & Tennis Club in bitch-dominatrix green – perfect colour for a woman with energy body of 9, reigning at Wimbledon. Just for the cameras, Ekaterina obstinately flirted with actor, James Norton. So what if he is Queer, all men are dogs, after all, it’s just a matter of time before they sniff each other and start humping seen or unseen. Ekaterina, the world onlooking, just wanted to get under the Pegged and follicly challenged boor Wilhelm’s skin. Of course, the fact that both senior Waleses are task companions only adds to the complexity of the War of the Waleses.

**Poor Peggalicious Desperately Fails to Cock Block**

Ekaterina’s Reason for Devoting More Time to The 1851 Trust than Any Other Charity? Big Ben

With the recent departure of Elizabeth II, the snivelling palace sycophants have been reinventing fabulist gossip and tales to make of the Waleses and Windsors that which they have never been, Olympian. These are crass racist charlatans and little else. So after having been outed as a racist boor both on the Oprah interview in March, 2021 and in Prince Harry’s SPARE, along comes snivelling bottom-feeder Valentina Pas-Haut with a revised edition to her specious tome, adding more storeys than the combined felled Twin Towers. Ekaterina insisted that ‘Recollections May Vary’ be kept in because it was important that History judge them correctly. Chile please! The Fleet Street parasites have no control over either facts or opinions outside their cultist island kingdom.

Bitch Get Off Me… Don’t Make Me Slap You. Ekaterina Brushed Off at the Polo.

Well, indeed, it seems that the tide has drastically changed. Prinz Wilhelm von Pegged und Fisted has come out, fighting that is, and with Elizabeth II off the stage, he can damn well do as he pleases and is. No more time to waste on spilled milk; living separate lives does seem to be the order of the day.

HRH Prince George of Wales – The Spook in the Window

I don’t know about you, but that is just not normal behaviour. There was a point at Trooping the Colour 2023, on the Buckingham Palace balcony, George was speaking and his father, Prinz Wilhelm von Pegged und Fisted, snapped at him. In that moment, George became frozen, standing there on the Buckingham Palace balcony and his right arm began involuntarily twitching.

Trooping the Colour 2023. Incident Occurs Between 02:56:00 and 02:56:30

There are a number of times when Prince George tries to get the attention of either parent and instead either parent favours Prince Louis or Princess Charlotte. George has a number of odd twitches and much of them are likely due to being around mercurial parents, who shout at each other lots. Prince George’s numbers do not leave him in good stead next to either parent’s numerology; they would incite a considerable degree of discomfort and fear. Prince George: 22.7.2013 Year of the Snake 4.2.8 = 5. That 5’s placement spells sexual scandal down the line; the 8’s placement means that the family’s fortune potentially may suffer massive setback(s). The 2 mindset means that he is innately creative and his parents are a mystery to, and some degree of distress for Prince George. George has only one number in common with his mother, Ekaterina, 4; he has two with his father, Wilhelm, 2 & 5. 5 represents excess, kink, unorthodox sexual appetite. George, however, with the mindset of 2 may end up being a fantasist rather than indulger and may end up being a collector of erotic art, along the lines of Shunga, Kangra, Chinese, Persian, Arabic, Islamic & European erotic art, books, sculpture et al. 2, also, rules two-spirits, a pronounced feminine principal so that coupled with 5, George may well become genuinely bisexual in nature – what he does in private when an adult, is no one’s business – provided it won’t be with minors. More than that, 2, represents genius level creativity. In George with such strong-willed ‘loud’ parents, his 5’s excessiveness apart from leaving him potentially quite tall, will act out through food, thus, he may end up being rotund for eating to excess, the opposite of his paternal grandmother, Diana, Princess of Wales’s, bulimia.

Trooping the Colour 2023. Famille Wales: George, Louis, Ekaterina, Charlotte & Wilhelm

There is a great deal about the firstborn which is marvellously camouflaged. All the more reason, why they allow the little freak, Louis/Damian to act out, thereby taking the spotlight off George’s spectrum markers. Alas, not everyone chooses to see nothing! George’s softness lends credence to the rumour that George was preceded by an older illegitimate sibling. Indeed, have you not heard about Happy Valley, the Sequel? It isn’t just the alpaca-faced chatelaine in Norfolk, who is a baby mama; indeed, George simply lacks the alpha vibration of a firstborn child. Even within the brood spawned by Prinzessin Ekaterina von Rictus der Gurnalot und Mumbleweiss. By far, Charlotte is more dominant of the three. Queer indeed it is that the Horse Guards Parade photo of George: the spook in the window, has been completely scrubbed from the internet – indeed, they’ve got something to hide. Also of note whilst stood on the Buckingham Palace balcony was Prinz Wilhelm’s animated coughing as though he were rudely saying something to the perpetually rictus Ekaterina, as she kept trying to have her left arm touch his right arm whilst stood side-by-side.

As Happy as a Truly Rictus & Gurning Loon

Just look at her, the blasted gurning loon. She is like an engagingly fascinating coffee table book cover that turns out to have not a single page between the covers. Blithering, inarticulate, quite the mumbling loon, Ekaterina. This past spring, I was at a Sunday brunch when the hosts wanted me to explain the finer points of numerology; it was an exciting gathering that lasted into early evening. At that time, a guest there had been familiar with Jian Ghomeshi and was fascinated to learn how his numerology explained his fall from grace for being caught up in a legal sex scandal. My take on the whole affair – Google is your friend – is that there would have been a great degree of consensual relations. Jian’s numbers are 9.6.2 = 8. First and foremost, all persons with energy body of 9 are all about control; they will always be abrasive and given to being smothering, manipulating – controlling. The one thing that is marked by persons with energy body of 9, is that they are given to ritualised sex that is chiefly consensual and either would be dominatrix or sadist but never masochistic.

Ekaterina at Wimbledon, 2019. Meghan Is Being Verbally Assaulted. Meghan Is Stunned.

In 9 energy body persons dealings with others, they often attempt, usually successfully, to bully and make subordinates their ‘bottoms’ – this chiefly is the dynamic of Ekaterina with Wilhelm and also what she sought to establish with Meghan. Obviously, she failed to break Meghan or the Sussexes would still be in the UK. Look at Meghan’s expression in the preceding photograph and tell me that that is the face of a bully. Look at the optics of that photograph, Ekaterina’s lizard lips are shaped in the same hostile ‘O’ that chimpanzees make when making screaming shrill calls at an opponent. Meghan is sat there before the world, knowing the optics of being ‘on’ and is both stunned and exhausted at this mumbling, inarticulate, crazy bitch, fucking with her and trying to break her spirit. Bitch in what world is Meghan supposed to take shit from your dumb, lazy, leg-spreading, racist ass? The racially predatory Ekaterina just couldn’t wait to have Meghan fully captive, minus Prince Harry, and before the entire world. Sat was Meghan between Ekaterina the dominatrix and her flat-arsed sister, Pippa. You just know, too, that there was a 99.9% likelihood that Ekaterina was all liquored up and in peak bitchy, sarcastic, bullying energy body of 9 mode. Hands down there is no way that Meghan would ever privately describe Ekaterina as pleasant. Ekaterina knows damn well that even if she spat in Meghan’s face, whilst sat there in the royal box at Wimbledon, the whole world would say that the reverse happened or that Meghan spat on her first but it was not caught on camera.

Shunga Print Provenance: British Museum

Alas, Vanilla sexual relations are not the norm for 9 energy-bodied persons as was clearly the case with Ghomeshi. As 9 energy body has to do with ritualised sexual control, obviously, at some point that dynamic corrupts the dominant partner and abuse can ensue. Think of the animal dynamism of sexual play in the 2015, Doug Liman film Mr. & Mrs. Smith, starring Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie – that is the order of sexual play with 9 energy body persons.

Damian: the Possessed & Damaged Spawn’s Coming Out

Okay then, said the striking red-maned Ethiopian with the most strikingly beautiful eyes – in town from London, England by way of New York City, for a wedding, please explain what the hell is that, as she turned her phone and showed us a clip of Prince Louis at the Platinum Jubilee Parade in June 2022. We all hysterically howled. Obviously, the child is crazy and there is nothing cute or adorable about behaviour like that, said she, to which I enthusiastically agreed. Louis/Damian: 23.4.2018, Dog, 5.9.2 = 7. Like his paternal grandmother, Diana, Princess of Wales, this very disturbed individual runs the very real risk of being murdered to be rid of the nuisance that he proves to either his mother or possibly father under duress – either way, he would be rather readily disposed of, and the island kingdom’s somnambulant would think nothing of it. Louis has three numbers in common with his father 2, 5 & 9 and one with his very controlling powerful mother, Ekaterina, 9. Ekaterina was sick to death of him and livid that he was proving a thorough embarrassment before the entire world. Let’s then look at the machinations, of which the then Cambridges were the obvious chief architects.

November 2016

A Statement by the Communications Secretary to Prince Harry

Published 08 November 2016

Since he was young, Prince Harry has been very aware of the warmth that has been extended to him by members of the public. He feels lucky to have so many people supporting him and knows what a fortunate and privileged life he leads.

He is also aware that there is significant curiosity about his private life. He has never been comfortable with this, but he has tried to develop a thick skin about the level of media interest that comes with it. He has rarely taken formal action on the very regular publication of fictional stories that are written about him and he has worked hard to develop a professional relationship with the media, focused on his work and the issues he cares about.

But the past week has seen a line crossed. His girlfriend, Meghan Markle, has been subject to a wave of abuse and harassment. Some of this has been very public – the smear on the front page of a national newspaper; the racial undertones of comment pieces; and the outright sexism and racism of social media trolls and web article comments. Some of it has been hidden from the public – the nightly legal battles to keep defamatory stories out of papers; her mother having to struggle past photographers in order to get to her front door; the attempts of reporters and photographers to gain illegal entry to her home and the calls to police that followed; the substantial bribes offered by papers to her ex-boyfriend; the bombardment of nearly every friend, co-worker, and loved one in her life.

Prince Harry is worried about Ms. Markle’s safety and is deeply disappointed that he has not been able to protect her. It is not right that a few months into a relationship with him that Ms. Markle should be subjected to such a storm. He knows commentators will say this is ‘the price she has to pay’ and that ‘this is all part of the game’. He strongly disagrees. This is not a game – it is her life and his.

He has asked for this statement to be issued in the hopes that those in the press who have been driving this story can pause and reflect before any further damage is done. He knows that it is unusual to issue a statement like this, but hopes that fair-minded people will understand why he has felt it necessary to speak publicly.

In November 2016, Prince Harry released a statement in support of Meghan, defending her against the racial undertones in the media that attacked her integrity. Naturally, by this time, the then Cambridges would have been upset that Harry had chosen a wholly unsuitable ‘girl’ – good god just imagine what the kids would look like. Ekaterina with an energy body of 9, would by now have become livid and seethed at Meghan possibly marrying into the RF. She is Black. Most of all, she is infinitely more charismatic and articulate than her – Meghan is her Kryptonite! Do not underestimate the power of a 9 mother, like a bear and her cubs, Ekaterina, as are all mothers, is extremely protective of her cubs. Ekaterina did not relish Meghan and her biracial kids, close in age to her own kids, coming on the scene. Imagine a ginger, afroed Archie and Lilibet, who by their mere exoticism, would garner greater press coverage. A wholly unacceptable proposition for Wilhelm and, in particular, Ekaterina this proved.

March 2017

Harry & Meghan, Montego Bay, Jamaica. Tom Inskip’s Wedding

March 2017, Montego Bay, Jamaica, Meghan joins Prince Harry as his date for friend, Tom Inskip’s wedding. At the time, the rumour mill and every Karen’s livid little blog, insisted that Meghan had crashed the wedding and was stalking Prince Harry; after all, they knew to be fact that Prince Harry had broken off their relationship in early 2017. All this in a narrative of their own delusional making. Well, all the Karens were sure that the Queen was suffering dementia and Caligula II had to step in and provide greater security for Prince Harry as he was being stalked, harassed by the crazed actress whom they had irrefutable proof was a yacht girl – The 1851 Trust notwithstanding. Just look at how miserable Prince Harry looked at the wedding and how she clawed all over him, touching a royal prince! Never mind, the braying racist masses, but Ekaterina with an energy body of 9 and Wilhelm with a mindset of 9 – defender of the flame and does not like anything that is not traditional or deemed unconventional, were secretly hissing at how Harry was doing this to them, to the family; it was betrayal, plain and simple. The then Cambridges would not have approved of Harry being enamoured of Meghan.

May 2017

Pippa’s Wedding to James Matthews

Pippa’s wedding to the son of a wealthy – though guarded – paedophile, was Ekaterina‘s chance to start publicly fucking with Meghan. Ekaterina whose control of Wilhelm is thorough, laid down the law; however, like all dimwits, she left herself open to unflattering scrutiny. According to the rules, if a woman was neither engaged nor married, she could not attend the wedding ceremony at the church. That being the case, Meghan was relegated to the wedding reception, which was well out of the view of the paparazzi. So there was Prinz Wilhelm arriving with Prince Harry to kill any rumours of Prince Harry attending alone and if that meant that it was over between him and Meghan better yet, even though everyone here in Toronto in the know, knew that Harry and Meghan were still very much so on.

HRH Princess Eugenie & Lover Jack Brooksbank, Pippa’s Wedding , May 2017

Then the most marvellous thing occurred, HRH Princess Eugenie walked to the church ceremony of Pippa’s wedding, accompanied by Jack Brooksbank. At the time, Eugenie and Jack were neither engaged nor wedded; thus, the whole rule of ‘no ring, no bring’ ordained by the rather sooty – not to be confused with snooty – classist boor, Ekaterina, exposed her animus towards Meghan and proved Ekaterina to be not very bright and frankly stupid – receipts matter. Nonetheless, the deed was done, Ekaterina had given her marching orders to the Fleet Street abattoirs, herein after referred to as FSAs, to begin the campaign of deeming Meghan a most unsuitable girl – straight outta Compton, indeed.

July 2017

Cambridges, Poland, July 2017

During or just after their July 2017 royal tour of Poland & Germany – neither of which happens to be a Commonwealth nation, though all importantly not predominantly overrun by Blacks – well , the 9 centric Cambridges like two slithering angry snakes, drunkenly writhed, hearts filled with hatred and scheming… Could she not wait to return home and run off to be further aroused and consumed with passion at The 1851 Trust? Was he, sat there looking bored and witheringly disdainful, lusting to be returned to Norfolk and attend to the alpaca-faced chatelaine and favoured baby mama, not to mention the other baby mama in Happy Valley in the sequel to White Mischief? Whether Big Ben or Pegged Wilhelm, either way, she was soon to be with child. A child it was whose nine months of gestation were passed with its host, ravaged by hatred, racist dread and obsession with Meghan and most likely a few too many glasses of drink those forty weeks.

November 2017

Harry & Meghan BBC Engagement Interview

Well past her first trimester, Ekaterina positively cramped with rage at watching the charismatic, emotional intelligence of Meghan in her BBC engagement interview and increasingly her racism and hatred were being transferred onto the little gestating monster, Damian in utero.

BBC Engagement Interview for Prince Harry & Meghan

The articulate, smooth delivery, charm and eloquence of Meghan’s master number 11 on display, would have proven infuriating for 9 energy body Ekaterina. She must be stopped, Ekaterina and the world’s every racist Karen seethed. Ekaterina was dead set on ridding the kingdom of this interloper, this vile blackamoor imposter. How she must have smoked and drunk more heavily at this time. Ekaterina & Wilhelm would have looked at this interview and felt immensely threatened. You simply cannot underestimate what an affront Meghan in that interview posed to Ekaterina and by extension Britons. Here was someone the product of slavery and the enslaved being so articulate, successful and able to leap into the heart of Britain’s classist inner sanctum. Britons have a pronounced inferiority complex towards Americans, owing to their defeat and loss of the colony and the fact, most of all, that America and Americans are so much more dynamic than they are. This though does not stop Britons from copping hauteur, that god-awful horrid accent of theirs and lording it over the ‘Yanks’ that they do not have a monarchy.

Samantha Markle Before Kensington Palace Payoff aka Financial Lobotomy

Here is Samantha Markel on Good Morning Britain just after Harry and Meghan’s BBC engagement interview. Soon, her tune would radically change as Ekaterina & Wilhelm waged war and had J’anusz der Schmeckel-Snitz start paying off and grooming the Markles on what to say and do to sabotage the upcoming wedding of Harry and Meghan.

December 2017

Princess Michael of Kent Wears Blackamoor Brooch + Harry & Meghan at Christmas Day 2017

What did Ekaterina care? Elizabeth II was old, cancer-stricken and as Elizabeth II never favoured her, why should Ekaterina care what she would think? Naturally, the mother of Prinz Wilhelm von Pegged und Fisted’s minor royal drug dealer, who’s really proud of her Jewish daughter-in-law, would gladly accept the dare to wear a blackamoor brooch. After all, she had called her two black sheep, Venus & Serena; Baroness Marie-Christine der Blackamoor Brooch would definitely go along with the racial harassment of Meghan. How Ekaterina and her bullied, pegged bottom, Prinz Wilhelm must have howled for joy at that golliwog, Meghan, being openly attacked before the whole world. Of one thing, Ekaterina was certain, sooner or later, she will be able to get the Fleet Street hacks to turn on that damn Yank… that damn Black thing. Ekaterina still cramped with racial animus for Meghan, likely drank more heavily over the holidays than is usually her wont. Of course, Ekaterina & Wilhelm would have been egged on by the likes of handlers like Ben Goldsmith and those of his rarefied chosen ilk.

February 2018

Royal Foundation Interview: Harry, Meghan, Ekaterina & Wilhelm

Here is the fabled Fab Four Royal Foundation Forum interview at which all four principals were present including pregnant Ekaterina. The dynamic between both women is rather telling and it is clear that Meghan was acutely uncomfortable, for being in Ekaterina‘s presence. I cannot state enough that for being an artisan soul, Meghan inputs on 5 channels, which leaves her inordinately attuned to spiritual undertones which are more than meet the eye fare. Meghan’s master number of 11 is supra-sensitive to subtle vibrations and energy, which for being energy body of 9, Ekaterina radiates with laser-like focussed animus. 9 energy is very circuitry-jamming by nature. I might also add that as both Ekaterina and Wilhelm are Warrior and Scholar souls respectively, both soul types only input on one channel. This gives them singleness of focus, but it also leaves them with far less subtlety and sophistication than Sages and definitely Artisan souls who respectively input on 3 and 5 channels – Meghan’s five channels of input would be just as baffling as Artisan soul Diana, Princess of Wales’s did for Warrior soul Caligula II and Scholar soul, Milonia Caesonia. Both the then Cambridges, for being senior royals, were dead set against Meghan being in their midst and that they readily telegraphed. Ekaterina here is in her final trimester and passively aggressive, hateful and bullying as any raptor, racial predator can be expected to be. Meghan, of course at the point of the interview, was acutely aware of this and was by then getting the lion’s share of verbal abuse. Can you just imagine the hyper-criticism Meghan would have gotten from the then Cambridges, both possessed of fault-finding, shit-disturbing, bullying 9 energy as they are?

April 2018

Prince Louis’ Christening, July 2018

Prince Louis aka Damian was born less than a month before Prince Harry and Meghan’s wedding at St. George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle. As the preceding photograph reveals at his christening in July, 2018, Prince Louis is damaged goods. Those are the eyes of a child on the spectrum and one who has already proven not the least bit stable. Louis was born 23.4.2018, Year of the Dog (same as his father). Also, like his father, Prinz Wilhelm (21.6.1982 Year of the Dog 3.9.2 = 5), Prince Louis has 9, and 5 in his numerological makeup; this is usually the mark of someone whose mercurial disposition is not readily disguised. Unlike his father, Prince Louis (Damian) will have a harder time disguising his lack of emotional intelligence. Louis’s numbers are: 5.9.2 = 7. Louis, as previously stated, has three numbers in common with his father, Prinz Wilhelm (2, 5 & 9); he is a dead ringer for his father, Prinz Wilhelm‘s, very well camouflaged nature.

Damian, El Diablo Muy Loco & His Psycho Mama

Make no mistake about it, in due course, Louis is going to be the source of astounding royal scandal. Stop making excuses, neither George nor Charlotte were ape batshit crazy at aged four. Louis has same mindset of 9 as his father, Wilhelm; Damian’s father is a sadistic bully and archly unorthodox in his views, so likely will his possessed son be. Furthermore, Damian’s 5 is his energy body – think Tasmanian devil. He sucks the oxygen out of any room and is not remotely sane. This combination of 9 and 5 means that S&M will be his preferred sexual outlet with a gross predisposition towards kink. Anything odd, bizarre, including persons will fascinate and leave him readily obsessed. The 2 speaks to the childlike/autistic wonderment and a sense of infantile and or developed feminine principle. Lastly, that 7 in the fourth position has seen highly placed royals bumped off when they proved themselves a nuisance, liability: Lord Mountbatten and Diana, Princess of Wales. 7 in the fourth position almost always means the murder of an individual in the public eye. Either parent or both would readily have him murdered if he proves too problematic. Of course, as far too many Whites do not assume culpability, Ekaterina and Wilhelm will always lay blame at Meghan’s door. They will rationalise Louis’ predicament, resulting from Meghan having come into the family and causing all this upheaval – god only knows their racist terrorisation of Meghan could not have had adverse consequences for them. Tant pis.

May 2018

Royal Wedding of TRH The Duke & Duchess of Sussex

May 19, 2018, what a gloriously sunny, picture-perfect day it was. As we have since learnt both in the Orpah interview in March, 2021 and from Prince Harry’s electrifying memoir, SPARE, all was not as it seemed. Of course, much of the tension afoot was more readily discernible than others.

Royal Wedding Prince Harry & Meghan, The Duke and Duchess of Sussex

Start looking at the 03:35:00 mark of this version of the BBC coverage of the Royal Wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan. As the couple begin taking their vows, Ekaterina spends her time exclusively looking down at the programme in her lap rather than look at the couple; this betrays her disapproval of their marriage and more importantly, Meghan becoming a member of the royal family. One thing of note is that this recording is a copy of the BBC coverage. The original BBC version has since been scrubbed from the internet; if only because a year after the wedding and the time at which the BBC version was scrubbed, it had been viewed more than 30M times; however, to that point, the BBC’s 2011 coverage of The Royal Wedding of Prinz Wilhelm and Prinzessin Ekaterina had garnered less than 15M views. Today, 2023, that 12 year old video sits on the royal family’s website and has garnered over 49M views; obviously, that is a combination of Meghan haters and the royal family aggressively jacking up the numbers. Of course, there is a ten-year old ABC (American Broadcasting Corporation) coverage of the now Waleses’ wedding, hosted by Barbara Walters, Diane Sawyer & Robin Roberts, which has just passed the 500k mark. The royals lie about everything, just as their Instagram page always artificially had a higher following that The Sussexes’ now defunct Instagram page. You can never underestimate how utterly petty, TRH Prinz & Prinzessin of Wales are. Prince Edward, like Doria Ragland, Ben and Jessica Mulroney and others were there to witness a marriage and looked at the couple throughout as they exchanged vows; not so, Caligula II, Wilhelm and Ekaterina.

Cambridges & Cornwalls Openly Gossip & Ridicule Blacks, Yanks, Meghan & Harry

Now jump ahead to 04:00:00 on the same video of the Sussexes’ wedding, at this point, having signed the registry, both Caligula II & Doria are returned to the quire. As the gifted cellist Sheku Kanneh-Mason starts the final of three pieces, Wilhelm, Caligula II, Milonia Caesonia and Ekaterina commence throwing shade at The Sussexes and Meghan’s culture. This they openly did before Elizabeth II, the world; moreover, this they did to the very shrewdly observant film industry professionals, who directly sat opposite them. Again, the senior royals quite arrogantly have neither couth nor awareness. Caligula II, Wilhelm, Milonia Caesonia and Ekaterina behaved at Harry & Meghan’s wedding not as persons who were concerned about Meghan being a bully. By their open ridicule of Meghan, Harry and Meghan’s culture, they betrayed to the world that they did not care for Meghan and were already having great fun at Meghan’s expense, along with bullying and racially harassing her.

Baby Mango Man Goes Full Crazy Town

All that hatred, predatory racism, bullying from Wilhelm and Ekaterina against Meghan, resulted in Ekaterina‘s bilious womb, serving as stowaway for a rapidly reincarnated soul, likely overdosed in the immediate past-life as crazed crackhead, Louisa, straight outta Compton. There is no greater winning argument in prosecuting the case against Ekaterina as the dominatrix, bully, racial predator than the fruit of her womb as she waged psychological warfare against Meghan for being a Yank, a self-made strong woman, to say nothing of a beautiful and articulate Black woman.

*When first I saw this display, I was horrified. However, at Trooping the Colour, 2024, I saw little Louis doing his little dance and I had an epiphany. I have a data base of hundreds of historical, famous, political and persons known to self’s numerology. As I have not done Prince Louis’s Michael Overleaves, his numerology had entered the data base at his birth and that was that. As he danced his little heart out at Horse Guards Parade, I suddenly thought to look up his numerology. Everything that I said of him at this blog when originally published in October, 2023, flew out the window. This is a child with 5 energy body. They are adrenalin junkies and in that moment, I fell in love, becoming his biggest cheerleader. Think tennis ace, Cameron Norrie, gymnast Simone Biles and many other athletes. They never stand still and are the most intensely focussed kinetic energy in a human body. Of course, he was not going to quietly sit there at The Queen’s Platinum Jubilee parade; he was being overstimulated by all the colour, music and excited humans. I cannot begin to fathom what it must be like to be an expectant mum with a five energy body incoming baby in utero. Louis is a joy to the world and I certainly hope that he fares well in such a rigid institution which also happens to be a family. END.

Ekaterina: 12 Years a Fail But Oh So Soused

Ekaterina was threatened and had the tacit approval and complicity of Wilhelm in a campaign to destroy Meghan. Very telling, too, was Wilhelm‘s remarks at the first annual Royal Foundation Forum summit, of which they would be only one, as he faced inwards towards Meghan and hawkishly preyed on her, ready to scream at her after the event behind Kensington Palace walls. Like her open animus towards Meghan, there has been the one constant: Ekaterina with a drink in hand and not just for show. This, precisely, is why Damian emerged the liquored up monster.

Wilhelm, Explosive Bully. Prince Harry Ever Wary of Wilhelm’s Deceit. Wilhelm Blissfully Unaware

That interlude also graphically demonstrated how groomed and hamstrung Prince Harry, in his role as spare to the arrogant, racist, ignorant Wilhelm, had become. Wilhelm it was, who remarked about being focussed on mental health and specifically suicide, more so male suicide. All that was cover, what he was in essence doing, was mind-fucking Meghan, letting her know by way of suggestion, and before the world I might add, that he wanted her to suicide… to get out of their midst. Wilhelm is after all the father of lunatic Damian. In the preceding photographs, Prince Harry looks exhausted from being bulldozed by Wilhelm & Ekaterina. At the time of his marriage, Harry still held out hope that his pa and brother would come around and accept Meghan. No, Meghan called it correctly, that was no environment in which to bring up their children. Indeed, it was not an environment in which Prince Harry should keep on living if he was to be a true father and husband to Archie and Meghan.

Meghan Gaslighted, Suicide Ideation, Racially Preyed On

Imagine that, Meghan lays bare what racist terror she experienced, at the hands of the senior royals and their lackeys, and for that, she was gaslighted and racially preyed on with even greater frenzy. The one thing racist non-Blacks, in particular Whites, cannot admit to, is that they are racist and that racism towards Blacks is not just sport but is physically, mentally, emotionally and financially damaging. Gaslighting Meghan was about having her stay and take it; goodness me, why ever would she want to leave a life of luxury, the life of a royal? But fuck it all, she flipped the script on the now Waleses. Just look at Meghan in the royal box at Wimbledon in 2019, she is looking at this inarticulate, dumb as fuck monster and thinking, whilst still breastfeeding Archie, “Bitch, I am not putting my child through this shit!”

Family: Abigail Spencer 4.8.1981 Rooster 4.3.4 = 11. Meghan 4.8.1981 Rooster 4.3.4 = 11

Ekaterina was damn confident about having her own little Prissy to slap every chance she got, to say nothing of her damn unwanted half-breed kids. No one laughs harder than a master numbered individual. Abigail & Meghan born same day, same year truly are blood. Nothing master-numbered 11s love more than laughing hysterically at damn fools. “Can you imagine? Mousy, inarticulate, dumb broad, trying to make me her bitch…” followed by the loudest gales of laughter. For an artisan soul with master number 11 like Meghan, that moment in the royal box at Wimbledon would have been like having to communicate with a mentally challenged idiot, trying to form a sentence. It took inordinate grace for Meghan to have endured all that shit, but that she did. Meghan like a strong bear had to not only secure her cub, Archie but she had to break the mindfuck that held Prince Harry captive to two of the meanest, pettiest, most pernicious dumbasses imaginable. What else can fraulein von Rictus der Gurnalot do but shapeshift into Meghan’s outfits; yet the bitch still can’t do more than mumble & fumble attempts at working a mic.

Buster Tripping the Light Fantastic Across the Cativerse

*At aged 20, Buster effortlessly passed when put to sleep at the vet’s. Just as he appears in this photo, he looked us over one last time, placed his forehead down as when blissfully dreaming, waited and like that, he slipped away in February, 2024. Sweet and blissful dreams darling, Buster. END.

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Grooving & Upping the Frequency via Crystals & Music

In the near 50 years since being spiritually focussed, which has included crystals, pyramids, mediums, past-life/reincarnation exploration, I have never once met a White male or female, who has stated that they had a past life in the Americas and West Indies during slavery and were a White slaveowner – god only knows they would never possibly have been an enslaved Black. It is always the reckless abandon of lives lived in opulence in Egypt, at court in Europe or exotic locales, which may venture to China, Japan and India but never Africa where there have always been in excess of 1000 royal families and also never the Muslim Middle East.

Kerry Washington, Kelly Rowland, Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex at Beyoncé Concert

Meghan is as hated as she is, because most Whites are loath to have to address the fact that they are racist boors. More than that, most Whites are not prepared to accept, much as with Donald Trump and his devotees, that Ekaterina could be a racist White boor, which they innately know to be true.

George, Ekaterina & Wilhelm, Berkshire, 2013. Ekaterina & Elizabeth II & Elizabeth II May, 2016

The earliest outward signs that Elizabeth II was mortal appeared just after her 90th birthday. Back in 2013 at George’s birth, Wilhelm who could not then have cared less about his father, Caligula II, decamped with his new family to Berkshire and set up court at Ekaterina’s family. Ekaterina was flexing her fist; the moment that she gave birth to George, she was now the most powerful woman in the kingdom; Milonia Caesonia would never be King Mother as she Ekaterina was destined. Furthermore, Wilhelm secretly hated Milonia Caesonia. With Elizabeth II’s demise, Ekaterina knew that she would be unstoppably powerful. For now, they avoided Caligula II and afforded him little contact with his first grandchild, George. Two things then occurred, Elizabeth II’s cancer was diagnosed and Harry met Meghan. First outward sign of Elizabeth II’s cancer appeared in May, 2016, a month after her 90th birthday. Straight away, Harry pressed The Queen for her blessing to marry Meghan and knowing what vile pieces of works, Ekaterina, Wilhelm, Caligula II and Milonia Caesonia were, Elizabeth II consented and rushed them along. Elizabeth II knew that neither Caligula II nor Wilhelm would sanction Harry’s marriage to Meghan, if she did not speed up the process, owing to her rapidly deteriorating health.

Caligula II & Wilhelm von Pegged und Fisted

Before her cancer could become stage 4, the marriage of the Sussexes was planned and in the books; not before, of course, Ekaterina & Wilhelm went to war on Harry and Meghan. Meghan’s life was made a positively hellish racist nightmare that drove her to suicidal ideation, which no one gives a damn about when you are Black. Outed on Oprah, suddenly vile, lizard-lipped Ekaterina was wounded by something so base as to be accused of being a liar and a possible racist by that Yank and by someone Black. Under no circumstances do Whites give a damn about Blacks talking about racism at the hands of Whites. Suddenly, with Meghan wedded in, Ekaterina & Wilhelm fast became solidly aligned with Caligula II and Molina Caesonia. Here’s a measure of what a truly nasty piece of work Ekaterina is, she could not have given a fuck about the dead Queen, she gladly stayed behind so that Meghan could not attend Balmoral Castle. Ekaterina did not have the decency to go pay homage to the dead Elizabeth II, the most revered woman in the world; that decision tells you all you need to know about Ekaterina’s detestable character.

Elizabeth II Snubs Ekaterina & Wilhelm, December, 2020

Meghan could have gone there with Ekaterina then have Meghan stay away in a separate suite and not allowed to see The Queen’s body. However, future King Mother made it perfectly clear, she did not give a damn about Elizabeth II. Elizabeth II was dead; she was not Queen. Ekaterina was being her vile petty self, in not going to Balmoral Castle, she was saying fuck you to the departed Elizabeth II, for having snubbed her in December, 2020. In a fucked up racialised world, all everyone did, was focus on Meghan and make it about Meghan having caused a rift in the family, when it has always been Ekaterina: regurgitating, pernicious, slithering, vile monster. First act Ekaterina does on Elizabeth II’s death, is lay down the law, “I do not want that Yank, that fucking Black thing anywhere near the body. I don’t give a shit! All those damn fools will see, is how she has caused chaos in this family!”

Ekaterina Philip’s Funeral, 2021. Ekaterina’s Wedding, 2011. Ekaterina Elizabeth II’s Funeral, 2022

It worked, the FSAs were given their marching orders and the royal pantomime did a course correct. It is not entirely out of the realm of possibility that the whole thing, Elizabeth II’s death, was staged to insult and sacrifice Meghan to repair Ekaterina’s shattered and compromised image thanks to the Oprah interview. The House of Windsor performs the function of perpetuating the Virgin Mother mythology/Iconography of the White tribe. At George’s birth in 2013, Ekaterina became a Queen more powerful than Elizabeth II; Ekaterina was figuratively crowned the Queen Bee. From that moment on, she has been Queen in waiting and will ever be King Mother as she has from that moment in July, 2013 on becoming Mother/Virgin Mother/Queen Bee.

Windsor Walkabout:. Ekaterina Openly Seethes at Meghan. It Was Expulsion & Sacrifice

They are frankly that vile: Caligula II, Wilhelm, blithering idiot bigot Milonia Caesonia and most especially Ekaterina. Kill her off, avenge Diana’s murder, put her out of her misery, repay her for sanctioning that damn marriage of Harry & Meghan and crown Ekaterina with styles and titles: White Virgin Mother. Super Bitch. Queen. King Mother. Patron Saint of the Karens. Queen of the Karens. In one move, Ekaterina became Patron Saint & Queen of the Karens. Wilhelm indeed should damn well be wary of her because if he died, she would still be King Mother and it would be far better for Ekaterina if he died rather than being divorced and banished. Thousands stood for days in the elements to file past Elizabeth II’s casket at Westminster Hall, yet Ekaterina who would not have married Wilhelm without Elizabeth II’s consent, could not have given a damn to head up to Balmoral Castle and pay her respects to Elizabeth II’s corpse. With that move, Ekaterina was able to return to her role as heroine, of the wronged White woman, falsely accused of being a racist; she was once again victim, after it was challenged post Oprah interview when the lie of “Meghan made Ekaterina cry” was rather elegantly exposed by Meghan who is infinitely more shrewd than Ekaterina.. than all of them.. and they know it. Queen of the Karens in essence made it known that it was that damn Yank, Meghan, who made it impossible for her to have attended Elizabeth II’s body. The nonsense that Meghan could not go if Catherine did not, was a lie. If that were truly the case then Sophie, the then Countess of Wessex, would not have been allowed to attend Balmoral Castle and visit the dead Queen’s body; however, that she did do.

Ekaterina Perpetually, Racially Predatory of Meghan. Ekaterina Now the Most Powerful Windsor Wife

Catherine stayed behind so that with Meghan also left behind, she could confront her and be an evil, vile, psycho, mind-fucking bitch to Meghan about the Orpah interview. It would have been her one chance to do so and she would definitely have seized the opportunity to go to war with Meghan. She was still filled with animus the following day as they got ready to depart in the car at the Windsor walkabout. Ekaterina forthrightly came forward, and squared off with Meghan by looking at her then down at the ground as if to signify, you are done and truly buried; she was also most definitely hissing something from the set of her jaw and rictus grin. There was no equanimity or truce with the Windsor walkabout. Meghan having been confronted the day prior at Windsor by Ekaterina, who declined to go to Balmoral Castle, because she wanted to confront Meghan, looked yet again exhausted for being around 9 energy bodied Ekaterina which is precisely the effect that a negatively focussed warrior soul (Ekaterina) would have on an artisan soul (Meghan).

Ekaterina, Patron Saint & Queen of the Karens

This is why Ekaterina has emerged in all of this as an icon, SWF, a great heroine – Patron Saint and Queen of the Karens. In the preceding photograph, Ekaterina is being fawned over and worshipped on the eve of Caligula II’s coronation. Naturally, as Ekaterina drove off the Yank/Negro in the royal family, everyone of those women who ‘just love her’ are gushing with love for and pride in Ekaterina because she did what was expected of her and as they would also have done of any Black woman, moving into their neighbourhood or workplace. Get rid of it! And oh what great sport they would have in doing so, which is precisely why Meghan shared the soul-crushing suicidal ideation that she experienced for being subjected to the unrelenting racial animus from Wilhelm & Ekaterina and all the lisping racist sycophants of theirs both within the royal households, J’anusz der Schmeckel-Snitz et al, and the FSAs.

Unhinged Loon Hiding In Plain Sight.

Just as she sat there gurning like a blasted loon whilst the fruit of her toxic womb embarrassed the shit out of her before the world at the Platinum Jubilee Parade – remember how she laughed at Meghan and her culture at the Sussexes’ wedding, so too she fakes it through royal life, being the new, beloved White goddess – Queen of the Karens and killing off Elizabeth II’s image/iconography for all time. Truth be told, Ekaterina is more damaging to the monarchy/Britain than Andrew, Duke of York. When growing up in the Caribbean, I used to visit my aunt in St. Croix – where incidentally I experienced by first racially predatory attack by mainland Whites whose father was a local judge. On Sunday afternoons, my aunt’s church used to go to have service at a senior care home where there also were disturbed youth, some cerebral palsy; at the time, all the residents were Whites. There were Whites in St. Kitts, it was, though, the first time that I had experienced mentally-afflicted, institutionalised young persons. It was sheer madness. I found the experience each time so confusion, I wanted to empathise with them yet all they did was react to us for being Blacks as though we were freaks… seriously.

Ekaterina Boozed Up & Predatory. Banned Paul Emsley Portrait. Caligula II’s Scottish Enthronement

There was one woman there, a patient, who had about half an inch worth of forehead and the largest gums. All she did was hide from us, as we were Blacks, then would gurn and hiss at us, then run away and hide some more whilst laughing her truly lunatic skull off. Fifty plus years later, I always think of that disturbed woman whenever I see Ekaterina gurning. Indeed, as Meghan told Oprah, “the reality is nothing like it seems.” 9s are shrill and borderline unhinged when focussed on being adversarial to whomever they’ve chosen to target and never ever do they cease targeting the subject of their focussed animus – this is precisely why Ekaterina has transposed her racially predatory bullying and harassment of Meghan via cannibalising her through clothing et al.

Make It The Motherfuck Make Sense

How now, sweet little darling, you are still an embarrassing, inarticulate bore who is as charismatic as sodden cardboard. Nothing like a weak, insecure woman; she will destroy everyone around her. Going after Meghan has come at the cost of her marriage and her thirdborn’s mental health. Louis validates that not only is she a drunk but she is that queer oddity, the functionally unhinged; clearly, for Prinz Wilhelm, it has become a total trip and exhaustive buyer’s remorse. Prinzessin Ekaterina for being a meanspirited bully, to say nothing of racist boor, has betrayed her culpability by having waged a racially charged, bullying campaign against Meghan.

Texts Between Ekaterina & Meghan as Shared in Prince Harry’s SPARE

It is clear from the text message shared in Prince Harry’s searing memoir, SPARE, that Ekaterina was hellbent on breaking and sadistically owing Meghan; Meghan of course was professional and infinitely gracious. Nothing of that exchange suggests that Ekaterina is predisposed to crying. She is of coalmining pedigree and exposed to power, she has become drunk on power and corrupted of spirit. Nothing in that text exchange points to Meghan being a bully and a bitch but yeah, the Waleses control the narrative in the tabloids. How fucking bored must one be to be indulging in this petty BS, save of course if you’re bigoted boors, you will act exactly as Prinz Wilhelm and Prinzessin Ekaterina have.

Abigail Spencer 4.8.1981 Rooster 4.3.4 = 11, Fraulein von Rictus der Gurnalot und Mumbleweiss

The psychology of this vindictive, archly petty, shitty excuse for a woman is pretty obvious. Knowing that Abigail Spencer was born on the same day, same year as Meghan, she targets Meghan by wearing the exact dress as Abigail wore to Meghan’s royal wedding. This served as the opening salvo in her long running soft cannibalisation of Meghan through the tabloids by way of her choice of clothing.

Meghan Carries Portmanteau, Followed Thereafter by Ekaterina Doing Same

Now fraulein von Rictus der Gurnalot takes her psychotic stalking directly to Meghan after the Oprah interview when Meghan and Harry were successfully received at the Global Citizen Festival in New York City’s Central Park, five months later in September, 2021. Naturally, the gurning bully showed up to an event, carrying a portmanteau, mimicking and ridiculing Meghan.

Meghan Remembrance at Cenotaph, 2019. Ekaterina Remembrance at Cenotaph, 2021

As a result of the Oprah interview in March 2021, Prinzessin Ekaterina wears a broad downturned hat at the Cenotaph in November, 2021 after Meghan had done so in 2019, Ekaterina‘s obsession is febrile as for one thing, Elizabeth II was close to dying, she has been beyond livid that her true ugliness has been exposed in the Oprah interview.

St. Paul’s Cathedral Queen’s Platinum Jubilee Service, June 2022

Elizabeth II’s Platinum Jubilee Celebrations. Of course, timing being everything, her long reign turned farcical towards its closing hours. For having outed them on Oprah, now comes the revenge. Not only are they now non-working royals – whatever the blasted motherfuck that is? – but they also do not get to stand on the balcony – oh boo-fucking-hoo. Then, if that’s not enough, to drive home what petty fuckers they all are, they have that blasted rhino-stumped heifer, Baroness Marie-Christine der Blackamoor Brooch sat in the row behind the then Prince of Wales and his miserably wedded heir, with Meghan and Harry sat across the aisle and directly in front of Caligula II’s up skirt/kilt Battyman even though with Elizabeth II still breathing, the kilted stud has as yet begun living openly with his debauched and buggered lover, Herr Fatty-Fingers.

Love Is In the Air… Up Skirt & Musky As All Hell

There was the lover, apprenticing up skirt Elizabeth II’s poopy-smelling frockcoats in June, 2022 and a mere five months later, there was he in November, 2022 sat in the royal box at the British Royal Legion’s Festival of Remembrance at Royal Albert Hall.

Meghan The Duchess of Sussex Speech in Full at One Young World Summit, 2022

Harry & Meghan, The Duke & Duchess of Sussex

Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex delivers speech at One Young World Summit in Manchester, England on the eve of Elizabeth II’s death, September 2022. This, in a mere three months, gives Ekaterina, the bullying, power mad, gurning loon the idea to outdo Meghan. Look for sycophant Sir Bod Geldof hardly rise as Meghan takes to the lectern.

Prinzessin Ekaterina von Rictus der Gurnalot und Mumbleweiss Suffers Charisma Implosion

Ekaterina von Rictus der Gurnalot und Mumbleweiss & Wilhelm von Pegged und Fisted

Elizabeth II is now dead and buried and Prinzessin Ekaterina von Rictus der Gurnalot und Mumbleweiss has been getting all the King’s RADA sycophants to try and make a half decent silk purse of this limp, sodden sow’s rectum – god how they must sit around, as actors are wont to do, hysterically shrieking at what a dumb twat she is. Shocker, there she was, wearing an electric red pantsuit as Meghan had months earlier, to also give a keynote address. Somehow, this obsessive boor thinks that for mimicking Meghan, she was suddenly going to be possessed of intellect, eloquence and prove remotely charismatic – fraulein gurn und mumble indeed.

Kate Middleton
Princess of Jazz Hands 😅😅😅 pic.twitter.com/l937jlh5VY
— Veritas (@theroyaleditor) September 29, 2023

C’est très Charmant, Mais Oui, Non. Chile It Speaks with Its Hands!

😅😅 pic.twitter.com/srMjS9DdfJ
— Veritas (@theroyaleditor) September 29, 2023

Keep Your Damn Hands Out of Spike Lee’s Face!

Willy can’t stand Ol Jazz Hands doing her Jazz Hands 😅😅😅😅😅😅😅 pic.twitter.com/kZbFOjEVMf
— Veritas (@theroyaleditor) September 29, 2023

Wilhelm Is Just Biting Off His Lower Lip. There’ll Be More Shouting for That Performance

Together. Our Community Cookbook Forwarded by HRH The Duchess of Sussex

Meghan, The Hague April, 2022, Transparent Racial Predator Ghouls, Grenfell Tower June, 2022

Summer 2022, Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex accompanies Prince Harry to the Invictus Games at The Hague. June 2022, on the fifth anniversary of the Grenfell Tower, Ekaterina attended the ceremony, though at the time, and I was in London during the Grenfell Tower fire, Ekaterina did not look over her shoulder. Of course, she could have sent the newly minted Duke & Duchess of Edinburgh, but Ekaterina as ever had to make a point and tear her flat arse in Meghan’s face. Meghan wears Chanel flats to Invictus Games in 2022, so Prinzessin Ekaterina goes to Grenfell Tower ceremony where Meghan had launched the Together cookbook to assist the devastated residents of Grenfell Tower as another way of letting Meghan know, “Bitch you can run to Oprah all you want, I got you out of here, you are not here and I will never let you back!” So petty is the goddamn gurning loon, Ekaterina, with the little baby Mr. Mango freak, Damian. Just as in January, 2023 and June, 2022, Ekaterina takes the time to directly look into the camera as she bullies Meghan – mostly her racist Karen flock and the FSAs. Prinzessin Ekaterina is saying “fuck you” Meghan whilst looking directly into the camera, thereby betraying how miserably she has failed to own and control Meghan. Her vacuous life passed, plotting and scheming how next to cannibalise/stalk Meghan by way of clothing, shoes at charity appearances.

Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex Wears Signature Aquazurra Bow Tie Heels

Ekaterina on the Eve of Caligula II’s Coronation. Meghan Duchess of Sussex Queen Elizabeth II’s Funeral. Alpaca-Faced Baby Mama, Coronation

Meghan, having quite had enough of small island, small-minded bitches, turned her back on the racist island kingdom. Left to stew in their venom, who could possibly be surprised by SWF Ekaterina on the eve of the coronation saying fuck you to Meghan, who was declined an invitation, by wearing the Aquazurra bow tie heels, which previously Ekaterina had never owned or worn. This woman, Ekaterina, is so immensely petty. How indeed could Meghan not have been driven to suicidal ideation when harassed and lynched by this out-of-control, power mad, racist woman of coalmining pedigree?

With Meghan leaving Spotify under super agent Ari Emanuel, naturally, both Spotify and the Waleses had something to celebrate. Having taped an episode for Shrek & co.’s podcast, they cunningly made sure that the event took place in the same drawing room at Windsor Castle – god only knows there is only one drawing room in Windsor Castle – as the official portraits of Harry & Meghan’s wedding. Naturally, they waited to air said sports podcast, to coincide with the opening of Prince Harry’s Invictus Games in Dusseldorf as a way to overshadow the Games but also to telegraph to Harry & Meghan that they were history; they were being whitewashed from royal history. Of course, good old Shrek just had to go and remind us that Ekaterina is a blasted drunk who is Queen of beer pong.

Meghan at Invictus Games The Hague 2022 Catherine Rugby World Cup France 2023

The next day, Ekaterina who had now replaced Prince Harry as patron for English rugby union was at their match in France at the Rugby World Cup, 2023. Naturally, as Harry was being erased, Ekaterina just had to wear a white pantsuit, clutch and similar round pendant necklace as Meghan had the summer prior at the Invictus Games at The Hague.

Meghan NAACP Image Awards, Feb 2022. Ekaterina Being Functionally Unhinged Dec 2022

Earlier during Black History Month at the start of the pandemic, Harry & Meghan picked up an award at the NAACP Image Awards for their humanitarian work. Fast forward, et voilà, as predictable as a monkey jacking off, there reliably is the fucking sodden cardboard psycho, sporting the same outfit; there can certainly be no mistaking, who ape batshit crazy Damian’s mother is. All this does raise the very pertinent question, how interested is Ekaterina in these charities, if clearly a major reason for showing up, is to further her psychotic aggression against Meghan?

Royal Wedding of HRH Princess Eugenie & Jack Brooksbank, October 2018

HRH Prince Eugenie’s wedding to Jack Brooksbank afforded further insights to the dynamics of the relations between the royal princes and their wives. At the 50:20 minute mark, both TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex arrived, followed immediately after by TRH Duke & Duchess of Cambridge. It was a hurried affair and likely there were some hisses once waiting to enter the quire and be sat before the world’s gaze. The senior ducal couples are sat in the quire, Prince Harry sat between his wife, Meghan and sister-in-law, Ekaterina. Meghan ever ‘on’ busies herself whilst avoiding Ekaterina’s hissing/sniping and chats with Zara Tindall.

Prinz Wilhelm Restrains Reptile Ekaterina. Prince Harry Foils Pregnant Meghan from the Evil Boor

At the 01:05:50 mark of said video, Meghan can be seen chatting with HRH Princess Anne, The Princess Royal sat to her immediate left as she has no desire to lean across Prince Harry and chat with the fork-tongued, slithering, power mad coalmining offal. Then at the 01:06:55 mark, behind Sarah, Duchess of York & HRH Princess Beatrice, Ekaterina is seen tapping Prinz Wilhelm on the left thigh, he holds her right hand and she goes on to neurotically rub his thigh, as he restrains her inner hissing. Of course, at this point, Wilhelm & Ekaterina are both aware that Meghan is with child and you can bet, the campaign was already begun to drive Meghan mad, have her either miscarry or suicide. They do not want an Octoroon in their family. Just imagine, a curly afroed ginger, Archie would be the obsession of the British tabloids to the exclusion of Ekaterina’s own not-the-swiftest-of-souls sons, though to be sure sure, Charlotte does fire on all engines. Early days yet, for Meghan it was just smile serenely and carry on. Prinz Wilhelm was of course, restraining his venomous wife who was utterly opposed to Meghan being in their midst and wanted her gone. For his part, Wilhelm is still his mother’s son and Meghan is his brother’s wife.

Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex the reincarnated Tudor Matriarch

Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex, Princess Henry of Sussex

Meghan, the most powerful Windsor wife, since her soul was previously incarnate as a female member of the British monarchy, Margaret Beaufort, Tudor matriarch. The importance of Meghan in this current drama is not easily disguised, though, there is a great effort exerted to distract from the truth. At the heart of Meghan’s lynching is the fact that the royals of The House of Windsor have been outed as racist boors. This was not easy for Elizabeth II as she spent her entire life projecting the image of the great matriarch of the Commonwealth and all its disparate races. Meghan was supposed to have sustained that legacy and been the bridge to the Commonwealth when racist Prinz Wilhelm & Prinzessin Ekaterina had no desire to make forays into predominantly Black Commonwealth nations – they still have not toured one of the predominantly Black 19 commonwealth nations in sub-Saharan Africa.

Ekaterina & Mary. Ekaterina & Stephanie of Luxembourg. Ekaterina & King Wilhelm-Alexander

Ekaterina has never once toured any of the 19 African Commonwealth nations. How do you justify being a senior royal and mother of a future Sovereign yet in 12 years of marriage never once having set foot in not one of those 19 predominantly Black Commonwealth nations? Twice she has undertaken Commonwealth tours on behalf of Elizabeth II when she was clearly no longer able to undertake such taxing tours. Instead of her lazy racist hide going on tour, Caligula II and Anne have done the lion’s share of this work and merkin-predisposed Sophie taking up the slack. Ekaterina, the Queen of the Karens, has been on tour to a mere 9 Commonwealth nations, whilst having visited 13 non Commonwealth nations. Ekaterina does not like non-Whites and most definitely, she does not like Blacks. Ekaterina, the overindulged never once had to undertake a royal tours whilst pregnant, yet there was Meghan on her first royal tour, days after it was announced that she was expectant with Prince Archie. Ekaterina has speciously claimed that she has stayed put rather than tour as she wants to bring up her kids; obviously, from the looks of Louis/Damian, Ekaterina has had little to no time to spare on the damaged fruit of her toxic womb.

Ekaterina Holding Dress Avoiding Blacks. Belize Standoff. Ekaterina Rebuffs Jamaican Olivia Grange

If 2022 were not a Jubilee year, Ekaterina would not have undertaken a royal tour of Commonwealth nations. She was loath to have to do so on Elizabeth II’s behalf. At the start of the tour, there was her outright rudeness to the local Blacks in Belize, and later in Jamaica she rudely brushed off the Minister of Sports, Olivia Grange, who tried to take her hand. Ekaterina is as common as an Ozarks redneck full of anti-Black racist venom. The white t-shirt photo perfectly captures the penny dropping moment for the racially predatory pair; if only they had not chased Meghan from the kingdom, she would be the one undertaking this damn tour to be amongst the natives, whom they are so loath to have to tolerate for a damn nanosecond.

Caligula II à La République de la France. Brigitte, Milonia Caesonia & Incitatus. Milonia Caesonia in Dior

As was plain for all to see, there was Caligula II on his official visit to La République de la France with his lover, the kilted Incitatus openly walking alongside Madame Brigitte Macron & Milonia Caesonia on the Champs-Élysées no less. Of course, having Meghan perpetually, unrelentingly lynched takes the spotlight off debauched and buggered Caligula II. Meghan has to be hung from a tree and the White tribe get its jollies so that god forbid Milonia Caesonia should be booed or openly rejected for the pain she caused the beloved Diana, Princess of Wales. Too, Meghan serves the purpose of keeping whispers of the kilted Incitatus being more than Caligula II’s equerry at bay. No need to have whispers persisting as to why Caligula II lives apart from Milonia Caesonia with the virile Incitatus at Highgrove. I for one, as I flatly replied to friend, don’t give a damn what her Dior cost but I do care to know what it cost to replace all that shattered glass at the Palais de Versailles!

Serena Ohanian-Williams. Meghan, HRH The Duchess of Sussex. Abigail Spencer, NYC Baby Shower.

No matter how much Caligula II and his henchmen in the media cast their nets far and wide, they will never be able to affect Harry and Meghan’s success and happiness. One thing that they will never do, is remove Harry & his heirs from the line of succession as some of the media racist boors bleat on. The moment they do any such thing, their greatest fear would be realised: a memoir of Meghan’s detailing the racist abuse that she suffered at the hands of senior royals. Meghan knows her power, this is why she does not set foot anywhere near the lot of them when charitable work takes her to England.

Harry & Meghan with Oprah Winfrey. David Foster & Prince Harry. Meghan & Harry with Kevin Costner

More than all that, showbiz is all about knowledge and the power of secrets; the land of make believe, is all about power to ruin someone by exposing their secrets. Everyone in Hollywood knows the goods on the senior royals at this point. The baby shower in New York City in February, 2019 was for Meghan to decompress from the racist maelstrom that she faced whilst pregnant. Ekaterina & Wilhelm wanted her to suicide; Meghan needed a break from Wilhelm and Ekaterina’s campaign of convincing Meghan that she was carrying Rosemary’s Baby – talk about irony as per Damian’s coming at at the Platinum Jubilee. Talk about karma; they serve up their petty seating for the Sussexes and the next day the universe had the last laugh as Damian, finally let out of his cage, pissed on and humped the dominatrix’s leg.

Tracy Robbins. Sophie Grégoire-Trudeau. Kelly McKee Zajfen.

Lindsay Roth. Misha Nonoo-Hess. Delfina Blaquier

Oprah stated that there was a lot more tape to that interview. Tyler Perry pointedly stated that there was a lot more that Meghan could have said in her Oprah interview, which would have proven injurious to the House of Windsor’s senior royals. David Foster’s wife is Katherine McPhee who went to the same high school as Meghan. The Fosters know the senior Mulroneys, plus Ben and Jessica, not to mention Sophie Grégoire-Trudeau & husband, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. All these people socially overlap and at their level of society, they rarely ever have fallings out – relationships and connections are of immense financial worth. These are, on the whole, tight, well-guarded, upper social strata bonds that transcend politics and social whims.

Molina Caesonia, Caligula II, Prinz Wilhelm von Pegged und Fisted, Prinzessin Ekaterina von Rictus

No matter what the dog whistling Windsor media henchmen speciously allege on their silly little island, they have no power and their unmasked truth is a known open secret, which makes it the most bankable commodity in Hollywood. Meghan is a devastating threat because with her departure and by taking Harry and their children with her, the House of Windsor is suddenly exposed as utterly vulnerable and frankly irrelevant.

Vichyssoise. Brown Sugar & Butter Roasted Squash. Ossobuco on Roasted Pine Nuts & Baby Carrots

Back in late spring of 1987, Merlin and I hosted an old friend of mine to dinner at our Cabbagetown home. Back in the late ’70s, Ivan was an eccentric artist: painter, sculptor and former dancer from New York City. He lived a rather bohemian theatrical life in a loft across Markham Street from Ed Mirvish’s Honest Ed in Mirvish Village. One day, after I had been by for tea and great conversation, he took me across the street and introduced me, grandly stating that I was now going to start working for them that very day, and I did. Eventually, I was off to Winnipeg to study dance which proved the most soul-crushing, racist experience imaginable. I remember sitting there in the theatre, the house lights going down and the full dress rehearsal for Romeo & Juliet was begun. The only Black in the school, I also had the humiliating experience of being the only student who was not allowed to take part in the production. I was crushed and this was after having suffered the indignity of having another male in the school piss into my locker’s grated door into my shoes and socks, which meant having to venture home in -30°C and colder in the driven snow in piss-sodden socks that were frozen to my feet by the time I made it home from the then studios on Portage to my tiny apartment on Assiniboine. That late spring, Merlin and I slaved away in the kitchen, prepping for dinner with Ivan. As a rule, I never once cooked a meal for any of Merlin’s friends; most of all, none of his friends were ever invited when I had friends of my own to dinner. We started with vichyssoise, followed by halved, baked squash with butter and brown sugar, into which was placed purple rice smothered in melted white cheddar and slivered almonds. The main course was Merlin’s favourite, the most sublime ossobuco sat on a bed of liqueur-sautéed pine nuts and adorned by baby carrots. Ivan was a great raconteur, with the loudest, most irreverent fuck-that laugh, and a ravenous appetite; it was always good to host him and repay his kindness from the decade earlier; moreover, Merlin genuinely loved his company.

Chicago. Halved Lobster Meal. Washington D. C.

Ivan it was who had introduced me to a wealthy friend of his, who was a patron of the arts and lived in Chicago, New Orleans and Washington D.C. He thought that my experience in Winnipeg was ridiculously hellish and I needed to get out. Naturally, his friend’s lover got wind of my existence then called the school and reported, “Ms. Thang was trying to thief her man!” This was great ammunition for the school’s principal who treated my existence in class as though I were truly invisible. Next, the scheming, bigoted principal, an ex-lover of whose told me that I would never get into the company so arch was his hatred of Blacks, went all out to exterminate me. He then set me up with someone for lunch whom I assumed was the hotel manager at the local Holiday Inn. Large-bodied but kind and reserved, I replied after he asked why I was not eating, starved though I was, that my mother’s name was Miriam, a Jew and we neither ate pork nor shellfish. The halved whole lobster before me truly made me feel nauseous. He called a waiter, had it replaced and asked where I was from as I ravenously tucked in whilst schooling him on Nevis. He then gave me his business card and that of the banquet supervisor. Days later, I called him a few times to thank him for getting me the job of waiter/bartender at the hotel – god only knows I was at 105lbs dying on a diet, noon and night, of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I then had a sit-down interview with the school principal, who let me know that there was a complaint against me for repeatedly calling my host at lunch in the hotel. Imagine that, calling someone to say thanks for their kindness and getting me a gig, is deemed suspect? All along, I had assumed that he was the banquet manager, it was Ivan who told me that that manager, Izzy Asper, was one of the richest Canadians who owned the damn hotel! Furthermore, the principal then took it on himself to announce to the whole school that it did not reflect well on him and his school to have students with sugar daddies or any student aggressively looking for sugar daddies in his school. Looking back, the thought that the principal actually used Mr. Asper as bait to accuse me of being a male whore when the gentleman was not remotely Queer, was truly repugnant to me.

Mirvish Books on Art, Mirvish Village. Christina’s World, Andrew Wyeth, MoMA. New Orleans.

Years earlier whilst Merlin was in Toronto filming Fraggle Rock at the CBC studios with Jim Henson, I was still resident in New York City, dancing and spending much time with milliner Frederick Jones & former dancer, Attila Isaksen, who had the greatest feet of any dancer I have ever seen, male or female. Attila laughed at life and was a great spirit whose brief dance career took him from Houston to New York City. Attila born March 7, 1955 had two numbers in common with me and was also possessed of master number 11 – he is also an artisan soul like me and an entity mate. Attila thought that my experience in Winnipeg was beyond absurd. One evening after we had had more fantastic sex, we sat in the tub talking, laughing and sipping on red wine before more robust noisy sexual play. “How did you manage to survive that penal colony, my god?” Attila asked to which we both roared. Of course, I then shared with Attila how I charmed the school principal into giving me the job of school custodian, which he gleefully accepted – never underestimate the stupidity of ‘Whites,’ rather than Caucasians, who are ever convinced that one is never possessed of intellect for being Black. I then proceeded to master cleaning the place in record time, when I had figured out how to do the four hour gig in 1.5 hours, I then set about scouring the school principal’s notes that he kept of all students. Indeed, he dismissed me as unaware and not company worthy. More than that, I got keen insights to his opinions of male students, especially the not remotely Gay ones, of whom he seemed ever keen on grooming – breaking them in. Attila, naturally, was not surprised at any of this; it is par for the course in the dance world.

Soul Crooners: Barry White. Al Green & Teddy Pendergrass

Going on, I then told Attila of my casual lover who lived just off Pembina Highway in the city’s south end. I spent at least two weekends per month with him for about a year. He was a tall, jet-black Jamaican nurse, whose house was covered throughout in plastic as he collected two of every item of furniture, the spare one to be eventually shipped home to Jamaica where he would build a house and retire – this is not as uncommon as one would assume. I shared how after each fuck, I felt splayed and truly as if paralysed from the hips down. Randomly, Attila asked if I was familiar with Andrew Wyeth’s paintings; indeed, I wasn’t then familiar. Devon Bradford had the largest, thickest, big Black cock, I have ever seen; it felt arousing of spirit each time to see what my tiny body had just conquered. Attila shared that I was correct in my observation that truly big-dicked Black men always played damn good soul music to hypnotise you into a spectacular, memorable fuck – Attila’s lovers were all Black. We howled at how many times we had heard the same Barry White, Teddy Pendergrass and Al Green songs; Attila of Scandinavian heritage, by way of Minnesota, had the thickest cock and his arms were covered in the same blonde forest of fur as Prince Harry’s. The next weekend, on a Saturday afternoon, Philip took me to MoMa for my first visit and guided me by the hand with his blindfold covering my eyes. We stopped, he removed the blindfold and we both erupted in hushed giggles. There before me was Andrew Wyeth’s Christina’s World, which perfectly reflected how, having shared with Attila, I felt each time after a soul-jousting fuck with Devon in cold, hellish, racist Winnipeg. Attila thought that I should have lived with Devon, who wanted to put me through nursing school; then again, said I, I would not have met him or Merlin. “Sooner or later that fucker is going to crawl into his casket and rot in hell, eating every pope’s arse,” I quietly told Attila of the racist school principal. Vaffanculo! In short order, Attila and I were returned to marvellously hot sex. There is no doubt in my mind that Meghan’s experience, for being the first Black to have married into the royal family, whilst living in England mirrored and surpassed in its cruelty aspects of the racism to which I was subjected for being the only Black in that school in Winnipeg.

Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex, Whitehall, November, 2018.

Ever, I will be most fuck-all indefatigable in defending Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex against all and everyone and will remain fiercely respectful of her, Prince Harry, Doria, their children, plus the persons who form their secure inner circle… to say nothing of their journey. I stood almost directly opposite Meghan in Whitehall at the time of the preceding photograph and the hatred being directed at this human was devastating. Not since my days in Winnipeg had I felt so racially smothered; Britons are vile racist boors.

Harry & Meghan, The Duke & Duchess of Sussex Invictus Games, Dusseldorf, Germany, 2023

Meghan made it perfectly clear that she will never bow or curtsey to a racist boor by staying away from Caligula II’s coronation. So there was Ekaterina with her team of lisping sycophants at the ready, waiting to see what Meghan would be wearing in Dusseldorf, to replicate it in short order. Well, fuck it! What is Ekaterina to do now? She most definitely cannot be seen wearing YSL sandals in public. Most of all, she cannot break protocol and start wearing shorts to official charity events. The strapless, metallic teal, lace midi was exquisite; most of all, there is no way for Ekaterina to cannibalise that look.

Now That’s What You Call Real Gangsta Cannibalism – Bronzer & an Afro Wig. Foxy Brown Ekaterina!

Silly Ekaterina, that’s what you get for showing up at Grenfell Tower event in June, 2022, wearing Chanel sandals and on the eve of the coronation, wearing Aquazurra bow tie heels. The only way for her to top Meghan’s look in Dusseldorf, is to show up with spray-on full body bronzer whilst wearing a curly afro wig. I would truly piss myself shrieking and you know that Ekaterina is both desperate and competitive enough to do just that.

How to Go Hooking and Sporting; ie Ekaterina Getting the Job Done Whether Bagging Prince or Lover

Everyone keeps carping on about how Ekaterina was so bullied and stressed out by Meghan. Bullshit! Ekaterina is an utterly vapid, shallow, embittered power mad cannibal with the famished soul of a dominatrix. Damn Ekaterina, Meghan is not your bitch to be either pegged or fisted by your febrile, sadistic, terrorising campaigns.

And the Mirror Cracked. Ekaterina’s Mask Slips

Silly woman, didn’t it ever occur to you, Ekaterina, that hating Meghan, is like pulling the pin on a grenade and forgetting to toss it? These mad amateurs think that they can simply demonise Meghan in the media and somehow, they will prove the first time in human civilisation that there aren’t two sides to this historic royal story. Ekaterina has never been on tour whilst pregnant; however, Meghan is shipped off to Australia on tour early during her first pregnancy. Further, whilst she is away in October, 2018 J’anusz der Schmeckel-Snitz is put up to write to Valery “The Fly” du Bout and allege that Meghan was a bully. Prinz Wilhelm & Prinzessin Ekaterina are to their supporters much like Donald Trump is to his followers; regardless the obvious facts, only their warped account of reality sans factual evidence matters and their race, Meghan’s race and that the FSAs certainly see to it.

J’anusz (Pronounced Anus, the J’ Is Silent) der Schmeckel-Snitz aka Herr J’anusz der SS.

As Wilhelm is not the swiftest of souls (3 & 2) he has left himself fully exposed as the complicit architect of so much of this absolute shitefest. If you cannot get the marriage cancelled – Thomas Markle Sr. slipped up on Live Australian TV and said that J’anusz der Schmeckel-Snitz had put him up to the Jerry Springer sideshow before The Sussexes’ wedding, in the hope that the wedding would be called off. In the meantime, since Meghan was pregnant, let’s apply even more pressure and hope that she either miscarries or commits suicide whilst on royal tour in the southern hemisphere. J’anusz, Wilhelm & Ekaterina’s bottom feeder, has access to the FSAs and of course, he knows too much about Prinz Wilhelm’s pegged & fisted proclivities. For this reason, J’anusz has proven himself indispensable and as soon as Elizabeth II died, he is appointed by Wilhelm himself as an lieutenant of the Royal Victorian Order, in December 2022. The little Texan cactus (now there’s a butt plug) merely acted on his own, regarding that email which highlighted Meghan’s alleged bullying of staff, which Prinz Wilhelm von Pegged und Fisted releases J’anusz to go afford the court in a bid to assist the Fail on Sunday in its case against, Meghan – Meghan of course won because the courts saw how utterly amateurish and exposed Wilhelm & Ekaterina have left themselves in this entire tawdry affair. Since then as his secrets are too potentially damaging of the Waleses’ marriage and reputation, J’anusz has now become a major appointee at the vanity Earthshot Prize, which is about as meaningless as Wilhelm shucking oyster or was that a diamond encrusted dog tail butt plug that he was in search of? If J’anusz had to be seduced and bedded to get him to go after the senior Markles then so be it. Now like old Etonians, they are practically inseparable, J’anusz even climbing in next to him on the recent boys’ trip to New York City.

Wilhelm & Ekaterina, 2010. Prince Caligula & Diana Princess of Wales, 1981. Wilhelm & Ekaterina, 2021

Let’s face it, Ekaterina, every day is one day closer to the Prime Minister standing in Parliament and announcing that: “It is with regret that Buckingham Palace announces that the Prince & Princess of Wales are to be separated.” Ten years on, and Ekaterina could not directly look into the camera. Notice, too, Wilhelm’s arms no longer wrap completely about Ekaterina’s body ten years on. So glad that Harry let Prinz Wilhelm have their mother, Diana, Princess of Wales’ sapphire engagement ring; the damn thing is clearly cursed.

“All of Me, Why Not Take All of Me…” Sing It, Peggalicious. Wreath Laying in India.

Just look at that two-way pegged and fisted byway being flagrantly advertised; what does J’anusz der SS not know? Indeed, what debauched peggalicious fun did J’anusz and Wilhelm get up to in New York City from which Ekaterina was banished so that boys and lovers could be pegged and fisted boy and lovers. Naturally, J’anusz has conveniently been handsomely placed at Earthshot Prize, making his companionship less likely to arouse suspicion. What’s more, Ekaterina is not going to Singapore because at the end of the day, Diana is not Ekaterina’s mum, she is Harry’s mum.

Wynton Marsalis solo Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra at Massey Hall 2025

Summer is Jazz season and boy has it been great this year. Here is enduring favourite, Wynton Marsalis leader of the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra intoxicating the soul with his brilliant creative genius. Jazz is Love. Jazz is Life. Jazz is Art most rare!

The Cannibalising Racial Predator Exposed

So in the week of the French President’s state visit to the UK, during which the Prince & Princess of Wales kept the Macrons waiting for over 10 minutes before arriving, our 1851 Trust patron #ladylegswideopen was irrefutably outed as having waged a years-long campaign of stalking Meghan Sussex by way of cannibalising her through fashion. Trust TikTok creator @matta_of_fact to have sorted it all out. Yes, indeed, Natasha “Tash” Archer announced that she was leaving her post as chief stylist to Catherine, The Princess of Wales after a fifteen-year association to go start a consultancy of her own. What then unfolded was making her, as ever, private Instagram account public. However, in the process of doing so, “Tash” did not take the time to cull her following list before actually going live/public. As a result, it was revealed that all Catherine’s predatory Orca-like fashion copycatting of Meghan, post Megxit, were done for stalking all Meghan’s design and clothing. What this reveals is how truly obsessed both William and Catherine are with that fucking Black Yank whom they cannot stand; they’ve been in a blind white-hooded rage at the every move that Meghan makes. This, of course, also blows wide open the campaign of hostilities and lies from the Fleet Street henchmen, being directly orchestrated by the gruesome, racist twosome whose offices remain Kensington Palace but who knows exactly where they live as their separate lives continue unaffected.

I am inclined to think that as Natasha has resigned, it likely means that there has been a falling out and that she was being relieved of her duties. This might well be because the rift between the Waleses is that severe. Further, the fact that Natasha would do something as self-destructive as go public with her following list exposed, seems to me to be a way of Natasha to reveal to the world that her boss, Catherine is a bully and serious stalker of Meghan’s. There is no such thing as happenstance and I think that this amateurish embarrassment is totally deliberate on Ms. Archer’s part. Either way, it has served to validate what I have stridently stated, based on the overleaves and numerology involved, all along about who Catherine is, which is why I chose to devote at least one blog to the cannibalisation of Meghan by Catherine. This whole think has left Catherine exposed as a vile deranged, petty, single White female of the most venal kind. At the end of all this, I think that likely Olivia Buckingham, Vogue Hong Kong editorial contributor and stylist for Princess Beatrice will step into the void created by Ms. Archer’s departure… if, indeed, she has not yet already done so.

**Meghan Ralph Lauren 2023 & Catherine 2025**

Recently, Catherine went around to a cancer recovery centre and talked her usual hand jive, jive sucker bullshit, making noise and saying sweet fuck all. Let’s face it, Catherine has no more had or has cancer than she is a paragon of sophisticated elocution – stomach surgery is not uncommon for anorexics. There she was in a camel pinstriped Ralph Lauren, which two years prior, Meghan was seen wearing the exact blouse. All the while, she has Lady Fuckamere’s trolls at Fleet Street abattoir, Daily Mail, dissing and doing her catty, racist bidding.

Catherine 2023 & Meghan 2018 Catherine 2018 & Meghan 2018 Catherine 2020 & Meghan 2018

Catherine 2022 & Meghan 2018 Catherine 2021 & Meghan 2018 Catherine 2022 & Meghan 2018

Catherine 2022 & Meghan 2020 Catherine 2023 & Meghan 2018 Catherine 2023 & Meghan 2022

If It Looks Like Stalking…

How insecure, to say nothing of unfocussed and bored, do you have to be that you engage staff to stalk, cannibalise and vilify someone who is not English, who is not White. Good God Catherine, you became the most powerful women in the House of Windsor on July 22, 2013: Future Princess of Wales, Future King Mother, Queen! You won the damn lottery. You staked your ownership on it all, on the 4th Baron Rothschild’s 75th birthday when in that closeup through the veil you smiled at the foot of Westminster Abbey’s aisle and the world fell in love. All this petty drama is so beneath you! Rise above it; there is no way that you cannot own your part in the macabre spectacle. Alas, you are human after all.

The Notorious JTB Sounds Off

I positively love this man. He is, by far, one of the most eloquent and insightful commentators on all things Royal as it chiefly focusses on the Sussexes and the House of Windsor. He is truly a cut above most Sussex Squad commentators.

Catherine & George Arrive at Wimbledon, 2022

July, 2022, two months before Queen Elizabeth II’s death and Catherine turns up to Wimbledon to be lauded by the masses. She wears the same shoes that mimic Meghan’s Chanel flats months earlier at the Invictus Games. More than all that, look at what happens, Catherine arrives separate from William, which suggests that they were at that point, already living apart. That would certainly explain why she never showed up to Balmoral at the Queen’s passing because, she may have been staying elsewhere and therefore could not have travelled to Balmoral separately before or after William. Naturally, Meghan was made to stay behind because of protocol considerations, which proved ultimately false, was to throw everyone’s scent off of William and Catherine living apart and thus unable to have travelled to Balmoral together. Was Catherine is Bucklebury at The Queen’s passing? Was Catherine even in Mustique with the kids and therefore could not have returned in time to head up to Balmoral with William. Either way, William and Catherine’s arrival at Wimbledon separately – Catherine was actually sat next to stylist ‘Tash’ who could easily have sat in the second Range Roger with William next to Catherine and George, highlights their separate live. Obviously, Catherine and George were likely in Bucklebury at the Middleton penitentiary.

**Catherine HRH The Duchess of Cambridge at Wimbledon July, 2022**

A month after having attended the Grenfell Tower memorial with Prince William, Catherine sported the same shoes as then to Wimbledon finals. This she did as a racially predatory taunt of Meghan who at that point, she had successfully driven out of the Kingdom.

**Meghan Invictus Games April 2022, The Hague**

She wore the matching shoes as Meghan had earlier worn at the Invictus Games at the Hague in April, 2022. Catherine first wore the same designer shoes, though with heels, in June, 2022 to the Grenfell Ceremony then to Wimbledon finals in July, 2022.

Meghan, Vancouver February, 2024

Clearly, having had quite enough of that racially predatory psychopathic lush Ekaterina, Meghan turned up in long gloves, knee-high boots, and a poncho… a wardrobe combination that her stalker could never mimic… and it worked, too. Obviously, Meghan was quite aware that she was being abused by Catherine though in Montecito, even as she clearly had whilst in London, which is why they would have been permitted to relocate to Frogmore Cottage at Windsor Castle, though the apartments next door to William and Catherine at Kensington Palace had been renovated for the Sussexes’ use after having lived at Kensington Palace’s Nottingham Cottage.

Prince George of Wales, famille Galles & Catherine at Wimbledon 2025

As a sportive warrior soul, Catherine thoroughly enjoys her patronage of the All England Lawn and Tennis Club aka Wimbledon. This, I believe, is her favourite event of the year. She gets adored, especially so since having faked cancer and aced the sympathy card from the somnambulant of her tribe. She also, as is obvious above, gets to knock back a drink or more. Most of all, Catherine appears and like a silent era film ingenue, she gets to say nada, which is crucial as she is so woefully inarticulate and void either eloquence or charisma. George’s neuroses should by now have been transcended; he is about to turn 12 years old and is way too kooky; it’s made all the more glaringly obvious when anywhere near Princess Charlotte’s orbit.

Catherine presenting the Wimbledon men’s final trophy to Jannik Sinner

Back in 2024 when the palace struggled with how to unravel Catherine’s disappearance, the moment that there was mention of abdominal surgery, I immediately thought that she was clearly anorexic. Of course, conveniently it was savvy to have claimed pre-cancerous sells being treated as this would garner the desperately needed sympathy after she and King Charles III were both exposed in Omid Scobie’s Endgame as the two royal racists, which had been first exposed in Meghan’s elegantly poised interview with Oprah in March 2021. As per her disappearances and re-emergences since ‘treatment,’ it has clearly fooled the mere mortals. Having been in the world of classical dance, Catherine exhibits all the signs of an anorexic. Her 9 energy body lends itself to the rigid, focussed perfectionism and the steely will to compete and win at all costs. As Catherine is phenomenally lazy, playing the cancer card handsomely serves her agendum; it gets her out of performing royal duties and she can pick and choose the ones that she cares about and to hell with the rest. Besides, her Fleet Street henchmen will always slavishly protect her by lynching Meghan ad infinitum.

**TRH The Prince & Princess of Wales at the French State Banquet 2025 at Windsor Castle**

After having missed the last two state banquets, Catherine had devilishly played the lot of us. After all, separated/divorced royals are not permitted to wear tiaras. There was Catherine grinning her best Cheshire fuck you grin whilst owning the room in that gorgeous red dress by her favourite, Sarah Burton for Givenchy. No it had nothing to do with cannibalising Meghan whose wedding dress was a Givenchy – different designer; I believe Catherine chose Sarah who designed her wedding dress and made her a vision of dynastic elegance on the day. I for one was thrilled to see Catherine at the state banquet tiara adorned. Above all else, tiara-crowned Catherine meant that three young humans: George, Charlotte and Louis would not have their emotional and mental health broadsided for life by their parents divorcing. I have yet to have witnessed children of divorce not being adversely impacted by the event and for the rest of their lives too.

Princess Charlotte holding court at Wimbledon 2025

Though I don’t know her Michael Overleaves – nor Louis’s for that matter, if I had to guess, I’d say that Charlotte, like her mum, is a warrior soul. I may be wrong; it could be that she has strong warrior overleaves, casting or a warrior task companion. What I do know, though, is her numerology: 2.5.2015 Year of the Goat 2.7.6 = 6. All two energy body persons are charming, self-aware, creative and have a strong sense of theatre; Charlotte was born being ‘on.’ She keenly understands her role in the drama and commendably acts the part. Poised and like her paternal great-grandmother HLMTQ, she has a mindset of 7; strong, intuitive and a boss. Charlotte is the moment; all others are merely orbital. Like her uncle, Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex, she does have two 6s in her makeup; she like he will definitely make an interesting ‘spare’ as the institution is so intent on role assignations.

Charlotte Holds Court

Recently, a friend took me to task, demanding to know how I could feature Catherine on my Instagram when I hated her. What? I hate no one. In dreams there are no lies and who these people are is deftly mirrored in dreams. Catherine is always cool, adroit and never interacts first; neither do I, for that matter. Of all the royals of the House of Windsor, I have more dream encounters with William than any other. As he has a goal of acceptance in this life and is a scholar soul and Merlin was a scholar soul and also had a goal of acceptance, it is not surprising that I would dream of him more than others. Also, there is the matter of past-life connections, which have been positive in nature. Regardless, he has ridiculously strong overleaves in this lifetime and they are being currently expressed in the negative pole. William a 6th mature scholar, Catherine his task companion is, like Prince Harry, a fifth mature warrior. The King is also a warrior but older-souled than them all; like me, he is a seventh level mature soul. Though, I am not a warrior but an artisan soul, I am on my third life at seven level mature, in the third cadence and the third greater cadence of my entity. Three equals warrior energy so I am not your typical fluid artisan-type. I will say this that dream encounters with King Charles tend to prove chaotic. He appears centred, zen and rather buddha-like; however, it can fast turn adversarial. Older souls – fifth level mature and older – perform magic in dreams: walking through walls, rendering self invisible, or shapeshifting. I am more adept at being lucidly awakened and keenly focussed than most persons when encountered in dreams.

Daily Mail implies that Meghan cryptically wished Camilla happy birthday

Never mind that in December, 2022 Camilla’s friend, Jeremy Clarkson penned an odious editorial in The Sun, a Rupert Murdoch newspaper. Clarkson expressed his sadistic fantasy of Meghan made to walk naked throughout the kingdom and pelted with human faeces. Days later, Queen Elizabeth II not yet dead three months, Camilla hosted Clarkson and other glitterati at Mayfair’s Murano. Yet somehow, Meghan in her need to play kiss-ass house slave cryptically wished Camilla a happy birthday when in an Instastory Meghan wrote, “Sending birthday love – both near and far to my ladies.”

Camilla ridicules Inuit throat singers

How possibly could Meghan have been sending a cryptic message? Meghan’s note was unmistakable; it was addressed to ladies! In a desperate need to earn clicks, Meghan’s Instagram is preyed on then regurgitated in a bid for Daily Mail to have their racist chav readership go into a feeding frenzy. How pray tell would Meghan even countenance that woman after having been lynched in the gutter press by Clarkson then to have had said adulterer, who ruined Meghan’s mother-in-law’s marriage, fete him at Murano. Meghan has long moved on and is little-focussed on small-minded, racist, small-island dwellers.

Samara Joy Massey Hall Encore

This is the encore performance of Samara Joy’s at Toronto’s historic Massey Hall where the seminal live Jazz recording occurred 53 years earlier with Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie and others. This was the most electrifying show and what truly amazes, is how much more august a performer Samara has become in the short space of a year. This was in May 2025 and in late June 2025, I drove down the 401 Highway to Montréal to get in a few performances of this year’s Toronto Dominion Bank Festival International de Jazz de Montréal. Again, I saw a Samara Joy performance, which was far superior to the Toronto performance. Ms. Joy shared that she got her big break in Montréal at said festival and it was there that she had played to more than 100 persons for the first time and with the few thousand spectators outdoors, she realised that Jazz could become a viable career. Truly blessed are we to have her focussed in the Jazz idiom. She is a remarkable performer.

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You are to Jazz what wings are to an ostrich; what the fuck do eagles care that queer, unaware ostriches have wings?

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Gonna Have A Gay Ole Time in Rio!

01.05.2025 Arvin da BrghaLeave a comment

Peter Allen – I Go to Rio 1976

That’s right, for this old earth that we so love, we are gonna shoot the jizz in Brasil! We are gonna have us a Gay ole time at the SolarJizz Gala. Without doubt, #peggalicious and his *BAC posse are going to have a riotous time of debauched late night man-on-man loving, whether at Ipanema or Abricó beach. This will be the moving-centred aggressive-sexed one’s liberation and coming out romp through the country that annually hosts the world’s largest Gay Pride parade.

Catherine at Her Most Radiant

If the murmurs are to prove true, in due course, and the Waleses are to be officially divorced, let’s just take this time to salute Catherine. Let me make it perfectly clear, your first impressions matter, though, your opinions of someone’s actions in due course prove them unsavoury. The fact is that in the first minute of this video except from TRH The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge’s wedding in 2011, one was readily enamoured with Catherine and completely enthralled by her intoxicating allure. What is a woman at her wedding but a Queen being crowned, even Baron Richard Chartres, Bishop of London said as much that day. Look at Catherine’s eyes, she is utterly radiant and magical. It was the most sublime theatre. Catherine has always had great power in her projection of her Michael overleaves, her role in essence and who she has been reincarnationally in the British monarchy. Pupils fully dilated, Catherine was most ravishing.

Catherine in the late 14th century was Mary du Bohun, first wife and Queen of King Henry IV’s. She died during childbirth with Philippa, who became Queen of Denmark, Norway and Sweden. Henry IV is currently, HRH Prince William, The Prince of Wales and her daughter, whom she did not know in that life, is currently her firstborn, HRH Prince George of Wales. Prince George is a fourth Mature King, and his closeness to his father is as much to do with a rich past-life history as it does William’s responsibility to groom Prince George to be sovereign in due course.

Not only are Catherine and William task companions, but she is a warrior soul to his scholar soul; they are also mature souls, which is beset by tempestuous emotionality and drama. There are two soul bonds that are most trying, yet the most compelling, that of task companions and essence twins. It is the one soul to whom you are most intensely bonded each time you encounter regardless the outward relationship when incarnate. Famous essence twins were Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton, which is why they remarried and had such a volatile relationship. Essence twins are consumed with each other, especially when in a physical/romantic relationship to the exclusion of all others in their lives, especially so children. Less intense, but by no means not intense, is the relationship of task companions. Catherine is a fifth mature warrior and William and sixth mature scholar.

Regardless their sex, a warrior is always the dominant partner in any relationship whether as lovers, parent/child, friend/foe. Catherine having an energy body of 9 makes her steely and formidable foe for William or anyone. In the GIF above, William is being submissive to Catherine and his goal of acceptance plus is energy body of three (peacemaker, gracious, tactful, but archly manipulative, duplicitous when negatively focussed) is dowsed by Catherine’s brittle 9 energy body. Catherine’s mindset of 1 leaves her ruggedly individualistic and not given to be ‘out there’ or ‘on.’ Persons with 1 mindset are not social butterflies and would prefer nothing better than to stay indoors and let the world “go fuck right off” – this is why Catherine was dubbed ‘Princess Do-Little by The Late Queen Elizabeth II. Catherine is a warrior and knows her power. As of July 22, 20213, she became the most powerful woman in the House of Windsor, even more so than The Queen – she became future king mother.

Get Off Me!

As the preceding clip validates, William with his 9 mindset is quite capable of giving as good as he gets. 9 energy is about being fault-finding, nitpicking, difficult, snobbish, boorish, shit-disturbing, obstreperous. It is virtually impossible to cohabit with a person who is 9 energy anything, however, when you have a couple who both have 9 in their numerology and they happen to be task companions, you can expect nothing but prickly, combustible relations at least once per week. 9 energy is simply exhausting. It has not been easy for Catherine, but she is a warrior and will always give as good as she gets. Task companions, even if they mate for life, will at some point have to live separately to avoid destroying each other or simply imploding of exhaustion. In the case of Catherine and William they each need an ‘out’ from each other; how they manage to, is their business. However, it is plain to see that William has had enough of putting up with shit; he was simply not brought up to take shit from anyone.

There has been serious disruption in their relationship and it is hard to know whether she suffered a breakdown when slapped with a demand for a separation or divorce; perhaps King Charles simply wants them not to make his waning years wrought with the same drama that plagued his mum’s reign as he fought and destroyed, in tandem with Queen Camilla, Diana, Princess of Wales’s life. Ultimately, William is the product of a divorce, so he may well see himself entitled to walk away from a problem marriage just as much as his father did. Too, there is the matter of his being heir and having the right to dispense with a wife, if he’s had enough. William is the principal and whatever he does, the kingdom with slavishly obey and support him in his wishes.

Easter Sunday 2025 Royal Family St. George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle

There were two lies widely disseminated about the Waleses not being in attendance at Easter Sunday service, 2025. William does not like going to church. The Waleses chose to spend Easter with Catherine’s family in Bucklebury. Naturally, after having been exposed for being on their second skiing holiday weeks earlier, the Waleses nor their gutter press henchmen could not speciously allege that they were away, owing to Catherine’s cancer recovery, leaving her a bit under the weather. Her sister, Philippa Matthews has already outed Catherine’s cancer fakery by stating to the press that Catherine has not been ill in the traditional sense. Hours later, Catherine’s sister Philippa’s remarks disappeared from the press. Naturally, William has recently consulted the legal firm which his late mother, whom he dismissed as paranoid, Diana, Princess of Wales’s employed during her divorce. Of course, Catherine has not attended the last two state banquets as separated or divorced royals can no longer wear tiaras.

Drunk and barefooted in Courchevel. Skiing cancer break. Predatory in Birmingham

Second skiing trip of the year, in between which was a jaunt to Mustique for the cancer-faker to sun herself and not give a damn about the little people. I just don’t get how The Waleses have such open contempt for the kingdom. Stop making excuses for William stating that he did not attend Easter Sunday service 2025 because he does not like going to church. That is his duty as heir and future sovereign as Supreme Governor of the Church of England. Granted that Easter Sunday service is classified as a family event; however, both Sovereign and heir have attended for the optics of it. Let’s also not forget that William is not a cancer sufferer, despite how gaunt and god awful he looks on meeting Trump at the Paris embassy in December, 2025, which is more likely due to his alcoholism. However, if as Poland and Vladimir Putin have openly stated that they know that Charles is not William’s father, even going so far as to state that his father is 4th Baron Rothschild, that would certainly explain his disinterest in having to attend church services. I might also add, there is much credence given to those claims when William bears an uncanny resemblance to a famous Canadian Ashkenazy film industry professional’s son.

Mere Milquetoast William Brusquely Dismissed by the Felon Boor

Just look at the way the lightweight, royal poseur and as claimed, interloper, is dismissed and shoved out of the way by the felon, who has evaded justice thanks to the power of racism in America. William is gaunt, looks unwell or it may well be that he’s just a damn drunk. As ever, the energy body of 3, has him do his studied hand-clasping routine to no effect as Trump knows that there is no one more important than himself, positively no one. All the world is a stage, indeed, and at that level of society there are no secrets. Trump would turn on William in a nanosecond if it suited his agendum at the moment. William has no cache; he’s built up no capital as a statesman. He has kept his sniffing, twitchy interloper ghoulish hide in the wings, too afraid and unaware of the bigger picture to ever venture centre stage.

Trump, Macron, Zelensky. No William

The Daily Mail’s specious assertions that William at Pope Francis’s funeral proved himself an elder statesman who had the forethought to bring Presidents Trump and Volodymyr Zelensky together, is pure sophistry. William was never present and why would he be, all three men do not waste their time, thinking of William as a statesman; William is not. The thing about all 3 energy body persons is that they are also the most charming, totally superficial and polished operators. To the core, though, they are each one, the most backstabbing duplicitous and manipulative energy body you’ll ever encounter. To be sure, the most dominant statesman with the keenest, shrewdest intellect is Macron. Notice that he declined shaking Trump’s hand. Macron knows that Trump is a damn fool and a menace. Macron shook Zelensky’s hand to remind him not to take the fool seriously and that no matter what, those who matter have Zelensky’s back, not Trump. Trump is energy body of 5 – liar, fool, crazy and dangerous. Zelensky is energy body of 7 – amoral, cutthroat and survivalist. Marcon is energy body of 3, the most ruthless, strategic, and purposeful assassin of the lot.

King George V has the exact same numerology as Prince William. Added to all, that William is a sixth mature Scholar soul who is moving centred. This is someone who not only screams and is difficult in the extreme, the saying shoots first then asks later, is endemic of persons who are moving centred. This, of course, was borne out in Prince Harry’s SPARE when he told of the kitchen incident at Nottingham Cottage when William confronted Harry, assaulted him, shoved him to the floor then quickly recoiled afterwards and demanded that he not speak about it to Meghan. The incident validates exactly what someone who is 3 energy bodied and moving centred would do in such a situation. Also, William has a goal of acceptance, in the positive pole, these are the kindest, gentlest most loving persons; however, in the negative pole, they slip to its opposite goal of Rejection and do just that with everyone… everything. William when encountered in dreams is always focussed in his goal of acceptance. William, though, is a scholar soul and there are more assassins, bullies, executioners, gangsters, serial killers who are scholars than not – they do not do emotions. They simply do not care. Queen Camilla is also a scholar soul, which explains why she was so driven and obsessed with stalking and literally driving Diana, Princess of Wales out of her life. In this life, William has chosen a goal of acceptance to temper his innate inability to care, give a damn and not be arrogant as all hell. Obviously, one of the reasons why he has a drinking problem is because he is so rarely focussed in his goal of acceptance. All the ‘drama’ against the Sussexes is manipulated by him; he is excessive in the extreme. It does not help that he is on the spectrum as this would mean an almost diabolical obsession with Meghan as we see being played out. Unmistakably, William’s callous dismissal of Harry and his Black wife, is precisely like King George V’s response to the Romanovs, his relatives, “Let them eat lead!” In essence, William sees Harry with his Black wife and their son, Prince Archie, whom he dismissed by stating, “I’m already an uncle,” as much a liability for the House of Windsor’s image as George V saw the equally foreign, Russian relations, Tsar Nicholas II and his entire family. The specific combination of the four numbers 2, 3, 5 and 9 has the exact motivation and results for both King George V and Prince William, The Prince of Wales, which in their case is: 3.9.2 = 5.

Meghan: It’s Your Brother, I’m Not Going to Say Anything about Your Brother

Meghan, possessed of master number 11, displays a greater intellect than William or Catherine. With that statement by Meghan, “It’s your brother, I’m not going to say anything about your brother. It’s so obvious.” Meghan displays her mettle and her superior intellect. Meghan is more shrewd than any other member of the House of Windsor and they know it. She terrifies them, yet she has said nothing save elegantly state fact in the most poised manner before Oprah and the world. That interview is an historic document which will be celebrated, in time, for what a master strategist Meghan is. She was after all the Tudor matriarch, Margaret Beaufort, mother of King Henry VII, grandmother of King Henry VIII and great grandmother of Queen Elizabeth I.

Another display of William’s controlling, duplicitous energy body of 3 on display occurred when this exposé of him and family on their second skiing holiday of 2025 appeared. This, of course, occurred weeks after they had been to Mustique; she, cancer-faker Catherine, likely laid around in the sun, being thermoregulatory aka sunbathing – reptilian that she is, and likely without a hat. I know of no one with cancer who goes skiing twice in as many months with a sunbathing holiday thrown in for relief. William has been incandescent with rage and threatened legal action for the French publication having invaded his privacy.

Catherine Visits with Scouts

Naturally, this was good for the idle arrogant principals to have released an old video of #sportykate getting down with the Scouts. Purely PR, the scout visit video dropped a week after the Paris Match exposé, though, the visit had occurred the month prior. That’s right, nothing to see here, move along and go lynch the #yank. What these not very bright third-tier pantomime players do not realise, is that in releasing this tawdry video in response to the Paris Match exposé, proves that Catherine has not been sick with cancer. Her sick subplot has been about buying her damage repair and an overhaul of her image, in response to the racist royals exposé in Omid Scobie’s Endgame.

Cancer-Stricken Catherine Initiates Kiss with Female Wimbledon Champion 2024

When you need an excuse to counter why you have refused to tour predominantly Black Commonwealth nations in Africa, you make it so that you are too ill to even do a full schedule of royal engagements within the kingdom. Post disappearing act, the pantomime’s thermoregulatory reptilian, Catherine, now does Trooping the Colour, St. Patrick’s Day, Remembrance Sunday and her wishy-washy Christmas Carol nonsense, which unsurprisingly is about as engaging as she is charismatic.

Going to Rio!

Having launched a not too successful hostile takeover of Sentebale, along comes #peggalicious drunkenly flexing. With an obligatory Black woman in the announcement, fiendishly the Windsor interloper gloats at his latest attack on Harry’s superior accomplishments as he announces his latest vanity venture, which is truly an ode to folie de grandeur.

As the drunken interloper can’t for a nanosecond stop obsessing over Meghan, the wayward bastard has sprung for more drama. That’s right, the 9 mindset and that drama-crazed 5 fourth number lusts for more than just debauched sex; it also wants revenge against the Negro Yank that dare try to enter the Guglielean court. Absolutely not! Under no circumstances is the fourth baron’s bastard suffering any such indignity… just imagine the Vesuvian screams every time that delicate, spectrum fare #peggalicious experiences at the thought of Meghan, let alone Meghan failing to be bothered by his lunatic existence, after having very firmly, a tone filled with rumbling tectonics, stating, “If you don’t mind, keep your finger from my face…”

So like a loyal sex slave, with the sort of pretty Jo-Beth Vance eyes, to be bearded and moustachioed; all the better to tickle the rim with bristly stubble. This grovelling nez brun, like pure white Texas calla lily, has the flute of its two major orifices – anus and mouth – stuffed and pegged good by fingers, fist and cock as the Guglielean court has taken febrile debauched shape. There is positively nothing about this no-chinned, snivelling kiss-ass that says that he did not spend his youth in America, passionately consumed with racially predatory animus towards Blacks. Finally at the ass-sniffing Guglielean court, he’s flowered into quite the malodorous specimen; indeed, this is no mere calla lily, he’s nothing but a stinking, showy agave Americana. The easiest thing for the White tribe to do, in their obsession with Blacks, is tell a lie and readily, they’ve long assumed that it will be either believed or true for saying so.

Gay Ole Brasileiro

That’s right, girlfriend, you take the Guglielean court’s harem of *BAC and go to Rio and have yourselves a Gay ole time. Thermoregulating your reptilian, no-calved, flat-assed, clit-nosed, lizard-lipped melanin-deficient freakdom at Ipanema then partying long into the night, pegged, bothered whilst having a well-fisted drunken, wasted time of it after the SolarJizz prize, is ultimately where it is at. Darling long before you reincarnated cum interloper, we’ve been there, done that… you are neither a mystery nor are we fooled. Go on, Jacob Lusk, take us to church and sing these tired fools to the back of the bathhouse…

Bennie and the Jets by Jacob Lusk Library of Congress Gershwin Prize

That’s right, flying down to Rio, in the country with the largest Gay Pride parade, if not the planet’s largest Gay population. Though it is now impossible to find, back in 2023, there was a revelatory video of #peggalicious at SolarJizz in Singapore where he had a member of his entourage who was seen walking a few paces ahead, energetically get the attendant crowds to start screaming, clapping and going into sycophantic meltdown as the charisma-challenged interloper approached.

Adrienne Warren TINA The Musical Royal Variety Performance 2018

Not only was this a great performance – those chops, but Harry & Meghan were the royals in attendance that night in November, 2018. I could not manage a ticket to the Aldwych Theatre production when visiting in November, 2018; I would love to have seen her commanding performance.

**Prince Andrew, Duke of York 19.2.1960 Year of the Rat 1.3.1 = 5**

Well, what have we here, on the magnificent day of the funeral of Pope Francis – a truly beautiful and unsurpassed affair, Andrew was suddenly uppermost in everyone’s consciousness. It was only the weekend prior that the delusional boor was front and centre at the Easter Sunday service at St. George’s Chapel, Windsor. Perhaps, this was an attempt to rehabilitate his image and welcome him back into the royal fold; however, a week later the tide has definitely turned. Rather conveniently, the suicide of the American trafficked by Jeffrey Epstein with an unsavoury and undeniable association to Andrew had suicide. Certainly, it all stinks and it was HLM, Queen Elizabeth II who paid off the trafficked American woman 13£m.

What was to be expected was that product of 182 years of reparations to Britons for the financial blow to them, for having mightily profited from the enslavement of Blacks, to raise her rear right leg and engage in classist condescension. True to form, there was viscomtesse Victorianus de Herpees copping hauteur and feigning compassion about the trafficked American’s suicide, which without doubt does not pass the sniff test. Of course, one could expect nothing less from the Cannes Festival yacht-hopping zombie. To look at it, you just know that like a urinal in a high-trafficked, very cruisy washroom, it’s perpetually pissed on and full of cum. Enough about bipedal urinals. How exactly are the Fleet Street abattoir hacks and the senior royals going to address this obvious wrinkle in Andrew’s rehabilitation? What new plot twist next for the macabre pantomime?

Reptilian humanoids from Luigi Serafini’s Codex Seraphinianus

It is abundantly clear to those who choose to perceive that some are decidedly not like us. They who thermoregulate are remarkably queer. They are also clearly of reptilian stock, which is why they are consumed with thermoregulating; it is in their genes. The too-short arms, the legs sans calves, the smell, the thin reptilian lips and the need to be ever focussed in the reptilian brain stem – violent, predatory… indeed, cannibalistic.

Naomi Campbell Met Gala 2019

May 2019, After Meghan wedded Prince Harry and became the first Black royal in the House of Windsor, Pierpaolo Piccioli had Naomi star in his stunning campaign that year, which predominantly featured Black models for the Valentino haute couture show. It was stunning. So then look at the old reptilian Hollywood casting couch worker in back, hissing away. Desperately, she is trying to get into the shot but she knows Naomi will have none of it, and why should she? All that casket fugitive had ever done was banged what few Straight actors there were in Hollywood, most notably Warren Beatty, yet he still never her had her star in any of his films. Fast forwards a couple of years and there is the clit-nosed thermoregulating reptilian – they with the skin that does not fare too well with age (ew) and she is out front hissing and lynching Meghan at every opportunity. Notice the way she flicks the fan because, how dare ‘she’ Naomi, get all that attention when she is nothing more than those of enslaved stock. Work that fan, you blasted oxygen thief. Go on, your shadow’s tired of your reflection in the mirror, it’s warming your casket.

Leopold 9.4.1835 Year of the Goat 9.4.3 = 7. Catherine 9.1.1982 Rooster 9.1.3 = 4

One of the hallmarks of persons with an energy body of 9, is that they are incredibly racist… regardless of race. 9 energy body persons are ruthless, cold, sadistic, vengeful and given to being violent, bullying. Of course, one only ever hears of Meghan being bullying, which is truly all about #peggalicious and his #mumblelina beard projecting like mad. Leopold II was not only racist but he went to great lengths to make sure that there were no historical ambiguities about his racist convictions. As future King Mother, Catherine too is possessed of immense power and given her chance to flex her reptilian claws, well of course she would readily do so. After all, it is not as though Meghan were of Jewish heritage… far from it. Moreover, Catherine and Leopold II have three numbers in common. If you want to know what Leopold II was like to some degree but not exactingly so, as they do not have the same numbers in same positions as George V & Prince William, take a keen look at Catherine. Both Catherine and Leopold II have/had 9 and 3 in the same position with the third number they share, 4, in different positions but they numerologically are/were rather similar.

TRH Prince & Princess of Wales, William & Catherine

Not for a second does one forget or cut these two slack for their racially predatory ugliness towards not just Meghan, but Harry too. The magic, theatre and allure that was a royal wedding – that once in a generation spectacle that we had last witnessed with Charles and Diana, was upon us, 14 years ago. Now here was a brunette, with sparkling eyes and radiant smile with a long, delicate neck. She was, at her wedding, perfection in her Alexander McQueen haute couture; she glowed and was ravishing on April 29, 2011 – the feast day of St. Catherine of Siena. Then, from the start in the carriage ride to Buckingham Palace from William initially sitting incorrectly, to not waiting until Catherine was sat before doing so, but they rowed all the way down the mall to Buckingham Palace. This is the push-pull nature of the task companion relationship. They have been openly hostile towards each other; they are both possessed of 9 energy and do not give a damn what their public displays look like. So on the occasion of their fourteenth wedding anniversary, not only is the cancer-stricken Catherine been on two skiing trips this year, but she has also been to indulge in some reptilian thermoregulating in Mustique, but now here she is openly drinking in public. No other royal woman has been more photographed not just with drink in hand but openly drinking than Catherine. Catherine is, among other things, a drunk – thereby discrediting the notion that she has been cancer-stricken all this time. They are, fourteen years on, not close. William hands are always clasped and never engaging her. Even when they were stood with backs to the camera, in the money shot, William chose to look down rather than at her or with head lovingly, protectively leaning in towards her.

BBC Royal Wedding of TRH Duke & Duchess of Cambridge, William and Catherine

As I am a keen observer of human behaviour and also a hopeless romantic, at least thrice annually, I look at the Cambridges’ wedding. Similarly, I do the same for TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussexes’ wedding. Weddings are a beautiful human ritual; these royal weddings are also about observing human inter-dynamics, society and Britain’s class system. Regardless the strained relations between both royal brothers and their families, they are still Diana, Princess of Wales’s sons and for that reason, I will never tire, looking at both their weddings and, beyond their flaws, not see the beauty of their late mum in them. Watching their weddings always reminds me how much, Diana, Princess of Wales was a positive force in the world. Do not ever forget what Harry said to Oprah, and in this case, William does not get to get away, leave from the woman who stalked his mother, broke up her marriage and caused unimaginable pain – the pain of betrayal which William has been left to re-enact with his brother, Harry.

Ella Fitzgerald LIVE in Sweden. 1963

Ella Fitzgerald – Vocals

Don Abney – Piano

Ray Brown – Bass

Jo Jones – Drums

Herb Ellis – Guitar

Roy Eldridge – Trumpet

Oscar Peterson – Piano

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*BAC – backward-pussied, ass-eating, cocksuckers, of which #Peggalicious’s posse includes the foxy but straight-acting, Christian type, The Duke of Buckingham & Norfolk, Jaysun Nuffnuff – the chinless hillbilly fabulist, Jasmine middlebottom, the aggressive bottom retriever. There are others, of course, but they all have this much in common – they are all dark-haired, favour beards, moustaches and are passionately obsessed with dining out en derrière.

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You are to Jazz what wings are to an ostrich; what the fuck do eagles care that queer, unaware ostriches have wings?

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William-Arthur Is Relentlessly Obsessed.

04.04.2025 Arvin da BrghaLeave a comment

Always pay attention to the numbers. Without fail, someone with 5 in the fourth position will bring on scandal with a fair dash of infamy, disruption, lies and vindictiveness; it is the mark of the saboteur/saboteuse. Who exactly is this woman? Well, she is an MBE, who has worked with both Trevor Phillips – that kept Negro of marked racial animus towards Blacks and, of course, she also knows Iain Rawlinson, who has since morphed into the vacuum at Sentebale, created in the wake of Baroness Chalker of Wallasey, Princes Seeiso of Lesotho & Harry, The Duke of Sussex having left. In short, she has completed her task of a hostile takeover of Harry’s charity, Sentebale, which shows up William for his laziness and its success only further rattles William’s cage.

**#kittydominatrix #peggalicious #littlegrovellingbastardshabbosgoy #fuglyduchess**

Like a handpicked animated blackamoor brooch, Sophie was #pegglicious’s agent saboteuse with pushover #kiltchaser’s tacit approval, chosen to eclipse any notion of racism – so terribly typical of your common racist boors. But make no mistakes about it, #peggalicious & #kiltchaser both have third and fourth numbers in common: 2 and 5, and that means that they are catty, vicious, gossipy, vengeful, petty as all fuck and, of course, debauched.

Both men have 2 in the third position and 5 in the fourth. Like Prince Andrew, that 5 in the fourth position means sexual infamy, sexual scandal, debauchery and an obsessive need for excess, drama and vengeance. Never forget that Her Late Gracious Queen Elizabeth II, in the last decade of her life, was merely a figurehead, but chiefly it was a regency. Her son was so reputationally damaged – affair, divorce, and savage extermination of Diana, Princess of Wales – that he could never have been named as regent. Make no mistake, it was the #littlegrovellingbastard who cut off the security and funding in February 2020, in tandem with a likely bullying #peggalicious. Never forget that as Prince Harry stated in SPARE, The Late Queen simply remained silent and observant during the Sandringham Summit where #peggedandbothered and the #closetedkilkchaser hissed, screamed and ejected Harry from the royal family… for having disgraced the family by marrying the descendant of Yanks, what’s worse… enslaved Yanks!

That is the energy of 5 in the fourth position. It is about debauchery and Sado-Masochism. In the case of #kiltchaser and his wingman #peggedandbothered. These are people who get off on being bullying, predatory, which has been fostered by the arch entitlement afforded them by their position of birth within the House of Windsor. They are ever focussed on stirring the pot, kicking up drama and relentlessly going after whomever they deem weak and the enemy. Though the British Media act as though the only royals who exist and worthy of being solely focussed on, in a campaign of misogynoir never before seen, that being Meghan and Harry, there is a great deal about #peggalicious and #kiltchaser that is more than a little newsworthy.

**Charity Polo for Sentebale, Sophie Chandauka**

This woman, Sophie Chandauka, is on a campaign designed by both racists #kiltchaser and #peggalicious. They are hellbent on sabotaging Harry and Meghan’s life outside the firm. Sophie was brought into Sentebale in 2023. That same November, 2023, at the Royal British Legion Festival of Remembrance at The Royal Albert Hall, there was a tribute to the Invictus Games and the invaluable work that the charity does for veterans and their families. Not once throughout was there an image or mention of Prince Harry present in the tribute. Both obsessed, vengeful, petty racist boors, #peggalicious and #kilkchaser, sat there looking at that tribute, knowing damn well that it was the latest launch in their campaign to destroy Harry and Meghan… their lives, their marriage, their work.

Royal British Legion Festival of Remembrance, 2023

At the 26th minute of the festival, the tribute to the Invictus Games commences. Not once, is Prince Harry mentioned and there is no photograph or film clip of him. It is as though the Invictus Games are a royal family product and since Harry was removed as a working royal, they was therefore no need for him to be in any way associated with the Invictus Games tribute being presented before racists #kilkchaser and #peggalicious. Of course, they sat there knowing that their loyal pickaninny, Sophie, was embedded at Sentebale and in due course would set off a bomb, in the multiple-pronged campaign against Harry and Meghan.

**Openly racist boors at Harry & Meghan’s wedding**

Their 2 in the third position is a telling insight, as 2 in the negative is about being petty, gossipy, meanspirited, vindictive and holding grudges for decades where others would not ever once revisit. This duo work in tandem and as a result, Harry & Meghan were evicted from Frogmore Cottage, after having renovated it and had to walk away without their 5k£ copper bathtub. Thanks to these two meanspirited, petty racist boors, there continues a relentless campaign in the British Media of daily articles inciting misogynoir against Meghan and open anti-Black racism, all the while at every opportunity, rushing to speak up against the rise in anti-Semitism. They, #peggalicioius and #kiltchaser, were behind Thomas Markle Sr. speaking to Australian media, in a bid to discredit Meghan – LIVE on-air Thomas Markle Sr. admitted as much. Further the little #texanbottomfeeder was put up to lying against Meghan in court and again on the eve of “With Love, Meghan” on Netflix, he raised his phlegmy-looking chinless mug on 60 Minutes Australia in yet another futile bid to discredit and impede Meghan’s success. Meghan was told to stay away from Balmoral because clearly, she worked some voodoo on Her Late Majesty for her to have sanctioned Harry & Meghan’s wedding. Of course, it was likely an excuse to have Meghan alone minus Harry so that the #hissingdominatrix could have a go at Meghan. Without doubt, #peggalicious was behind that decision and he saw to it that Andrew went to Balmoral with him with his brother, Harry, left behind to charter a flight of his own; by the time Harry made it to Balmoral, the #slitheringbuttpluggedninny had already taken off.

As future King Mother, Catherine has always been more powerful than even her husband. She is the mother of a future Sovereign. She knows her importance; that is why no one could have made her report to Balmoral when The Queen passed. This action spoke to her power; it also spoke to how difficult she is with an energy body of 9. She clearly did not enjoy ease of relations with Her Late Majesty, The Queen and she sought then to exercise her power. It was, though an error. Catherine did not have the right to deny Prince George and also the very mature Charlotte from reporting to Balmoral; although, this was ultimately a decision made by #peggalicious as he would not have wanted George to interact with Harry. As future Sovereign long after his parents are gone, Prince George aka King George VII’s grandkids are never going to learn from him, what it was like when he saw his great grandmother on her death bed. The Queen was the most remarkable sovereign, possibly ever, and this would have been an historical and important ritual for Prince George to have partaken of. Their lives are totally devoted to service and not private at a time of the passing of a monarch. Death like birth is a natural part of life; at 9 years old, Prince George was sufficiently old and mature that he should have been allowed those moments with the departed, beloved 41st monarch.

Mere months later and suddenly, Prince George was not too young to have attended the coronation. This, of course, was a coronation which as petty, racist boors would have it, took place on Prince Archie’s fourth birthday – again, likely it was proffered by #peggalicious whose reaction to the news of Archie’s birth was, “I already have a nephew.” This would mean that Meghan could not attend with both parents missing their son’s birthday. Everything staged and designed to punish Harry and make him know how he will never be forgiven for marrying the descendant of the enslaved; plus there was the matter of being outed in SPARE for their racist ugliness as hinted in the Oprah Interview in March, 2021. Never forget that during the Oprah interview, Meghan made the point of insisting of Catherine, “She is a good person.” Also, during the Harry & Meghan Netflix docuseries, Meghan threw her hands up and said, “It’s your brother! I am not going to say anything about your brother, but it’s so obvious,” with regards to a message on Harry’s phone, obviously from #peggalicious with regards the #chinlesstexanbottomfeeder interfering in the court case between Meghan v Daily Mail – the #peggalicious aligned mouthpiece of #ladyfuckamare.

Attending London Holocaust Memorial, 2025

The aggressive racial predator does what she wants; she is future king mother, the most powerful member of the House of Windsor, and has been since July 22, 2013. She could not more be bothered to attend The Late Queen’s passing at Balmoral than she could go on tour, in fourteen years of marriage, to any of the predominantly Black 19 Commonwealth nations in Africa. If you think that any of those 19 Commonwealth nations were Jewish that she would not have been multiple times by now, then you’ve not been paying attention. Trust you me, if The Late Queen were Jewish, Catherine would have reported to Balmoral with at least her two oldest children with her. Furthermore, she has not toured any of those 19 predominantly Black Commonwealth nations in Africa because #peggalicious does not give a living damn what it looks like; he hates Blacks and that’s that.

Were it not for Omid Scobie – look at those Joan Crawford brows, and his delicious exposé, ENDGAME, the #gruesomefoursome would not suddenly need to add a new health crisis to the pantomime. As is to be expected of fourth number of 5, all drama, all the frigging time, the royals have just had to go to town to try and eclipse the charge of anti-Black racists. When did you ever see Queen Elizabeth II’s seventy-year reign beset with so much gossip, scandal and BS. #fattyfingers started the drama with his shenanigans with the #fuglyduchess and his deals with the #fourthbaron that produced a drama-prone bastard. To be sure, Diana threw herself down those stairs when she was likely told by the #littlegrovellingbastard and London’s favourite #shabbosgoy that she had been inseminated at High Grove and not by himself, and it was not whilst pregnant with Harry that she undertook to be no part of this dark affair – this, of course, was graphically enacted in a dream of intense lucidity with astral plane solidity.

This is a child with 2 & 5 who will become corrupted

**D. Trump 14.6.1946 Year of the Dog 5.2.4 = 11**

Notice that like the #littlegrovellingbastard and #peggalicious the felon has both 2 & 5 in his numerology. This is the signature of the spoilt brat, the drama queen and someone who is hellbent on being disruptive and seeking revenge at the cost of his kingdom. Always yapping and belittling the opposition – #sleepjoe,#crookedhillary, just as one sees the senior royals do to Harry and Meghan through their extensive network of media henchmen.

Can I hold Him

No matter what, #peggalicious does not care. He will stop at nothing to ruin Harry’s life. Harry cannot have all the fun. Harry cannot get to hold the bunny rabbit. Harry must not have a wife, Meghan, who is infinitely more emotionally intellect, articulate and charismatic than his regurgitating, mumbling, racist, drunken, dominatrix wife who cannot speak without engaging in a Willy and the hand jive routine. Most of all, as the little #conversobastard is so clearly of that ilk, under no circumstances will he tolerate Harry bringing a Black woman into the royal family. There have been 42 monarchs before him, yet #peggalicious acts as though he is protecting a bloodline from becoming sullied by Black blood when Queen Charlotte, King George III’s consort, was of Black heritage.

Well, of course, they would enlist a compromised Black in their hostile takeover of Sentebale. Sophie is corrupt, compromised and like them, she is possessed of 5 in her numerology and will definitely bring the kind of disruptive drama that will play well in the British tabloids. Sentebale is too good for Harry to have, besides it predates, as does Invictus Games, Earthjizz by long years. Under no circumstances can autocratic #peggalicious tolerate Harry and his successful endeavours. The same jealous, tantrum-prone #peggalicious in the two preceding clips is why this ‘scandal,’ which is pure fabrication on #kiltchaser and #peggalicious’s part, has unfolded. Blacks were disproportionately represented during the coronation on Archie’s birthday because, as ever, a guilty conscience needs no accuser. It’s all compensatory window dressing and nothing more.

Katt Williams 2.9.1971 Year of the Pig 2.2.2 = 6

First off, 2 in the first position – energy body means that Katt will have you howling; it is a gift we possess – I am 2.1.8 = 11. He is though a triple threat. He has three 2s, which means not only does he know the gossip on everyone, sooner or later, he will unload on everyone.

Liquored up Katt with his triple 2s did not come to play shy. This episode of Shannon Sharpe’s Club Shay Shay was the most cringeworthy, yet most delicious thing to watch. As a numerologist, I looked and watched Katt validate the very essence of his numbers with unwavering focussed accuracy. Not only does 2 know all the gossip but they are prepared when it suits them to unleash the beast, knowing the havoc it can create. Also, when 5 is added to two, which is not the case with Katt, it will use subterfuge, lies and exaggeration to amplify its warring campaign as is the case with Sophie, #peggalicious and #kiltchaser.

Mo’nique 11.12.1967 Year of the Goat 2.5.1 = 8

Here’s another soul with energy body of 2. Lord do I know this territory; however, the purpose of life when you know your numbers, is to outgrow being focussed in their negative polarities. If Mo’nique lives to the age of 102, she will every opportunity she gets to cock-suck a mic, open her hippopotamus mouth and start bawling about how she was wronged by either Oprah Winfrey, Tyler Perry or both. Please just stop hugging cacti and move the fuck on already! With that 5 in her numerology, Mo’nique’s motivation for regurgitating Oprah & Tyler’s names every opportunity, is motivated by trying to incite animus towards both persons with whom she’s been professionally associated. Trust me, if her second number were 1, she would do no such thing when in public; she would revisit her grudge privately with a tight circle of persons whom she trusts and never otherwise. Her 5 is hoping to ensnare Tyler and Oprah in scandal, and to no avail, I might add.

Photo 1: Sophie Chandauka 1.3.1 = 5

Sophie is being used by the very controlling #peggalicious with 3.9.2 = 5 numerology and such persons are archly controlling. Sophie also has the same numerology as Prince Andrew, which is saying a lot about her character and why, like Andrew, she has burnt through funds at Sentebale. She is a scandal magnet and is being used to dispel any notion of racism; in fact, she is used just so that #kiltchaser and #peggalicious can counter the label of royal racists from the House of Sussex, tossing it right back at Harry & Meghan’s feet.

Photo 2: Prince Andrew 1.3.1 = 5

As we are all well aware, Andrew is notoriously autocratic, entitled, rude, controversial and given to scandal. The two 1s are indicative of an out of control ego, which is now emerging in the case of Sophie Chandauka. It is all about these scandal prone persons. Andrew, of course, is guilty as sin of his proclivities by his association with Jeffrey Epstein. You will not be surprised at the amount of royal born males who have a fourth number of 5; it allows them to be abusive, sexually debauched and given to excess, which in some cases can be admirable as in the case of King George IV who obsessively collected art. King Charles III in the positive expression of his fourth position of 5 collects, loves and is creatively focussed in the arts – painting, music, landscaping et al.

Photo 3: Diddy 4.6.4 = 5

Diddy with two 4s is a self-made man. He also is exceptionally debauched. What men like him and others always fail to remember on becoming fabulously famous and wealthy, is that they are held to a different standard for being Black. They will be more begrudged, hated and will more readily be the subject of scandal and face ruination, simply because of the racist state of the world and, truth be told, there’ll always be some jealous Black person who will be ever quick to ‘run tell massa,’ and get a brother in no end of trouble. This does not give them license to be corrupt and abuse anyone; however, such is both the state of the world and human nature.

Photo 4: King George IV 3.2.9 = 5

King George IV had a most violent relationship with his wife, Caroline of Brunswick, 8.4.8 = 2, who found herself in the midst of scandal when being taken to court for adultery, fourth number of 2. Interestingly, Catherine has three numbers in common with King George IV; this is interesting because George IV was known for having a very loud, disputatious marriage with his wife Caroline, which was his 9 being triggered. Caroline would have loathed his profligate spending and mismanagement of funds – fourth number of 5, as is the case with Prince Andrew of York. Both William and Catherine have 9 in their numerology. As Catherine has a need for power and is in perseverance mode, she triggers William and will ultimately win any fight they have, she can be louder than him and more violent-tongued than him, because she is also a warrior soul and fighting is foreplay and warriors always win. Full stop! Most of all, Catherine and William are task companions – a relationship at the level of soul that is most intense to the exclusion of others in their orbit.

Photo 5: Mohamed Al-Fayed 9.1.4 = 5

That placement of 5 would bring on the scandal of his son Dodi Al-Fayed and Diana, Princess of Wales having been murdered. His lifelong crusade to prove the point, was scandalous in itself. Moreover, since his passing, for having threatened the establishment, his name is now further scandalised as claims of sexual impropriety have surfaced. 9 energy body, like Catherine means a strong-willed difficult customer, all of which is added to by his mindset of 1. Domineering! Also, energy body of 9 usually is found in the numerology of the parvenu which is certainly true of both Catherine and Mohamed; in the case of the former, this is why the tabloid keep referring to her as Kate Middleton! Moreover, both energy body of 9 and 5 are highly sexed individuals which can also leave them fairly combative customers when not sexually focussed.

Photo 6: King George V 3.9.2 = 5

George V had the exact same numerology as does William. All the rejection of Meghan and campaign to ruin Harry & Meghan’s marriage and success outside the royal family, is owing to that 5, 9 and 2. The 2 and 5 combination signifies someone who is fiendishly obsessed with controlling the narrative and eliminating anything and anyone that could mar the family name and integrity as they see it. This is why King George V betrayed his Romanov relatives and callously had them murdered rather than have them relocate to the United Kingdom where they could possibly be perceived as a distraction and source of scandal to his monarchy. As a result, for George V, the Romanovs would have proven too great a threat and thereby possibly provoke republican sentiments. Additionally, the need to change the family name from Saxe-Coburg and Gotha to Windsor, is again the controlling aspect of 2 & 5. William’s current campaign to destroy Harry by way of hostile takeover of Sentebale and going after the Invictus Games – as per the RBL Festival of Remembrance in 2023, is in keeping with the behaviour of King George V when challenged by anything that would scandalise his reign. Similarly, though his controlling nature caused George V to have emerged void of sexual scandal, there is a strong likelihood that he would have had male lovers or at least regular same-sex sexual liaisons. His controlling 2 and 5 would have left that aspect of his life well concealed and that is precisely why brother, Prince Albert Victor, The Duke of Clarence and Avondale suffered sexual scandal. I am firmly convinced that Albert Victor’s sexual outing was deliberate and he was sacrificed so as to cover up his brother, King George V’s own homosexual proclivities. Try as one might, it is an open secret that #peggalicious’s penchant for butt plugs also betrays his pronounced same-sex proclivities, which his controlling 2 & 5 would go to great lengths to keep concealed.

Photo 7: Camilla, Queen Consort 8.6.9 = 5

Like William and Catherine, Camilla has 9 in her numerology; this number in the negative is about being snobbish, boorish and decidedly racist as has been dramatised before the world in their campaign against Meghan. 9, also means that she totally controls Charles and that 5, of course, betrays the scandal which has left him known in quarters among other things as the #tamponking. Who can forget Camilla including Jeremy Clarkson in her Christmas lunch at Mayfair’s Murano after he had recently penned that Op Ed in the Rupert Murdoch latrine, The Sun, in which he expressed his fantasies of Meghan being lynched. The royals do not hide their racial animus towards Blacks and it has become fully exposed with Meghan marrying Harry. Also, do not forget that a very big and real part of 5 in the fourth position, along with the sexual scandal, it leaves such persons predisposed to group sex, pansexuality, fetishistic sex, paedophilia, bestiality and even necrophilia. It can be said of the royals with 5 in the fourth position that they do have an appetite for that most delectable of meats, tangential cannibalism – as in the way they ravenously gourmandise on Meghan through their manipulation of the archly racist and obsequious British media.

Photo 8: King Charles III 5.7.2 = 5

There we see the 2 & 5 combination, which is all about being controlling, petty, jealous and archly vengeful. As per his close associations with known paedophiles, Jimmy Savile and Gary Glitter, plus who knows whom else, these dubious proclivities do satisfy Charles’s outré sexual focus. Again, like William and King George V, this man has a hyper controlling obsessive personality and will go to any length to conceal that which he deems no one’s damn business. Charles like William and George, his grandson, all have a goal of Acceptance, which is ‘the’ great goal and the love vibe. One can see ample displays of this in both Charles and William. Certainly, this is true of both persons when encountered in dreams, for rarely are one’s numerological vibration operative in dreams; however, the overleaves are more readily discerned and operative. Debauchery and greed and money issues are par for the course when 5 is the fourth number, as is the case with Prince Andrew. It is less so obvious with both Charles and William as they have access to Duchies of Cornwall and Lancaster funding, but their greed is pronounced. In the case of William that greed would be heightened by a parsimonious nature as per his 9 mindset, which is complemented by Catherine’s 9 energy body.

Photo 9: William The Prince of Wales 3.9.2 = 5

As is obvious, same numerology as King George V whose proclivities and private life one knows almost nothing about, owing to his controlling nature, thanks to that 2 & 5 placement. William, of course, like his father and firstborn has a goal of acceptance, which is the great goal. In his case, it is less on display as with his father; it is muted through his energy body of 3, which is all about being charmingly self-deprecating but that is not the same as a goal of acceptance. Incidentally, not only does William have a goal of acceptance like King Charles, but his mother, whom he has dismissed as having been mentally disturbed, also had a goal of acceptance. William is a jealous, suspicious individual and this is part of the reason why he is so obsessed with Meghan. Meghan, of course, has a goal of acceptance. William sees this as Meghan cosplaying his mum, in a bid to con her way into the monarchy. Of course, this is one of the excuses that William uses to justify his racism towards Meghan. Meghan is, however, the real McCoy. It is why she does not do drama or confrontation. Added to all that, Meghan has master number 11, which is the Midas touch which would threaten and terrify persons like Charles & William because it is the signature of superior intelligence, emotional intelligence and someone naturally prone to being loved. Incidentally, Donald Trump also has master number 11, which as with Meghan leaves him both intensely loved and despised; this without doubt is the case with Meghan. Charles, Catherine, Camilla and William think that their relentless campaign to demonise and vilify Meghan, will some day succeed; it never will with master number 11. One other noteworthy feature of William’s is that whenever he appears sat in dreams, his legs are always gather beneath him; this is the case with persons who are on the autism spectrum in the waking state. Also, persons who are on the autism spectrum tend towards having an almost perverse animus towards Blacks. In dreams there are no lies! And every dream encounter with Prince Harry, he is real, unpretentious and always without exception barefooted, even when on horseback. Though, Prince George of Wales does have 5 in the fourth position; it would be unfair and frankly irresponsible to say therefore he can be expected to turn out like his paternal great uncle, Prince Andrew.

Sentebale Charity Polo Trophy Photo Call

The polo photo call is tradition. The two opposing teams pose on the outside with the presenters, either male or female between the teams. Sophie enters the stage and walks with her back to the audience, which shows lack of awareness – one never turns the back on the audience… you are always on. Meghan, who is a seasoned acting professional, knows her mark and has previously been on the podium. Seeing Sophie’s error in standing between the players of Harry’s team, Meghan graciously invites her to come over where there was already space created to accommodate the three non-players. The other woman onstage, who took to the podium after Sophie then invited the latter to come stand in the middle of both her and Meghan. Good god, somehow in all of this purely natural and casual event where the unaware Sophie was at fault, Meghan has been vilified as being rude, bullying and unroyal. I’d much rather that Meghan be unroyal because that would mean not being a fucking racist, bullying, lying, entitled boor. Was the other woman also being rude to Sophie? No one was being rude to Sophie, save that with her two 1s, blind self-centredness, egotism, she just had to go walk and go stand where she damn well felt she must or could. It is called YouTube, not sure, looking at a few polo trophy presentations and you would see that the non-players are always stood between opposing teams. There is no there, there, despite how shrill ninnies like Charlotte Griffiths like to exaggerate about a perfectly innocuous incident. But at least Charlotte could be commended for having acknowledged that there is such a thing as misogynoir, if only because this was Sophie’s recent allegation against Prince Harry and not, incidentally Prince Seeiso, a Black man. However, far be it from either Lady Tittydown to have mentioned the word or for that matter the toe-tapping, minstrel Windsor lapdog who would never acknowledge the term misogynoir because, somehow, that would mean that Black women, most especially Meghan, would be singularly subjected to racial animus from bipedal lapdogs like him.

**Dredging the East River Hunting for Diamond Studded Butt Plug**

Seriously, since Harry and Meghan were kicked out of the royal family, chiefly by #peggalicious, what exactly has he been up to. He’s been on a number of trips to America, in a bid to rain on their parade. Of course, the moment he and the #edwardgoreyghoul were booed out of Boston, she’s not returned with him. How much time do you think he spends on his vanity project of ending homelessness when he could not give a damn about the ugly shame of being a slum landlord, who has done nothing to improve the living conditions of persons who let from him in the Duchy of Cornwall. He is archly lazy and too obsessed with competing against Harry, and Meghan, to have time for little else. Hell, he is even skipping out on attending BAFTA; to be fair, when he attended alone in 2024, no one gave a toss as he entered the auditorium which is precisely why he opted to go to Mustique this year – he is petty like that, much as one would expect of the dangerous, deranged orange clown who has taken the world hostage at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Earthjizz is a nothing burger which does not award the funds until the cited organisations are fully up and running and have proven themselves successful. Again, all show no substance; just a desperate need to fiercely compete with Harry and Meghan.

Can’t Keep His Hands Off

Look at predatory #peggalicious; he just can’t keep his hands off the pretty boy. Never mind Meghan, bullying Sophie out of the way. What about #peggalicious telling that woman to get out of the shot, throughout which he possessively kept his right hand on the back of the pretty boy. Not surprisingly, he ended up staying overnight in Birmingham, though he had been expected to return to London that day! All the while, the fiendishly controlling #peggalicious distracts the sheeple by having the bottom-feeder tabloid media relentlessly bay at Harry and Meghan some 5.4K miles away.

December 2020/Windsor Castle

The Queen within 2 years of her passing, wastes no time in dismissing William as the spoilt, racist nuisance that he is. Of course, equally as arrogant as his uncle, Prince Andrew and Charles – all with fourth number of 5, did not give a damn. He simply walked off whilst counting down the days to be rid of the ancient monarch. Her Late Majesty was the one person who could not only see through him, but she did not have to hold back and clearly in this particular interlude, did not waste time in dismissing him as mere milquetoast. The preceding parade alludes to the real visage behind the scenes. #peggalicious is the only senior royal who is moving-centred, such persons are inordinately sexually focussed and are also violently domineering and controlling. As with his poilued face in recent years, #peggalicious has a posse of equally bearded, goateed poseurs. Make no mistake about it, nothing is more exhilarating than bussy being roughly massaged by a poilu partner during anilingus. There is nothing vanilla about being a #peggedandbothered late mature scholar soul, who is moving-centred with his third and fourth numbers being 2 & 5.

Beyoncé Crazy in Love VH1 Fashion Rocks Royal Albert Hall, 2003

Look at our Queen, Beyoncé, own staid, stuffy, old London town!

Queen

That’s right, like a Boss, that’s how our Queen Meghan be striding to the bank, ’cause she runs the world! $$$

As ever, love wins…

___________________________________________________

Sketches of Spain – full album. Miles Davis 1960 Columbia Records

Danny Bank – Bass clarinet

Bill Barber – Tuba

John Barrows – French horn

Albert Block – Flute

James Buffington – French horn

Eddie Caine – Flute

Paul Chambers – Bass

Earl Chapin – French horn

Jimmy Cobb – Drums

Johnny Coles – Trumpet

Miles Davis – Trumpet, Flugelhorn

Gil Evans – Arranger, Conductor

Harold Feldman – Clarinet, Flute, Oboe

Bernie Glow – Trumpet

Dick Hixon – Trombone

Elvin Jones – Percussion

Taft Jordan – Trumpet

Jack Knitzer – Bassoon

Jose Mangual – Percussion

Jimmy McAllister – Tuba

Tony Miranda – French horn

Louis Mucci – Trumpet

Romeo Penque – Oboe

Janet Putnam – Harp

Frank Rehak – Trombone

Ernie Royal – Trumpet

Joe Singer – French horn

____________________________________________________

You are to Jazz what wings are to an ostrich; what the fuck do eagles care that queer, unaware ostriches have wings?

_______________________________________________________________________________

As Ever!

28.02.202501.03.2025 Arvin da BrghaLeave a comment

I took the first flight out of Toronto & arrived early morning in Vancouver. Then walked the two blocks to BC Place stadium, well ahead of the 1300 start time. Having purchased multiple tickets, I took a tour of the stadium to decide on which seat to settle. I figured that since the stage in the round’s logo read I AM it would be right side up where The Duke & Duchess of Sussexes were sat. Sure enough, as the opening ceremonies got underway, everyone faced towards where I settled which was above the VIP suites wherein the Sussexes were sat. The CEO of Boeing gave a marvellous opening speech. Every single time that the Duke & Duchess appeared on the jumbotron everyone went wild with a group of ladies ahead of me screaming “Love you, Meghan!”

**Harry & Meghan BC Place Invictus Games Opening Ceremony**

The opening ceremony was so fabulous: athletes, bagpipes as ever won me over, Nelly Furtado, the giant ravens keeping the stadium free of pigeons, Katy Perry’s high octane performance and most of all Chris Martin and his groovy soulfulness. It was well worth the trip. As I had to dash back to Toronto and make hospital appointments with my spouse, I flew home the next day. Naturally, I had the same flight crew with one a really pleasant soul who as I crossed over the galley back to my seat interrupted, “Well, look at you, jetting in for the day and heading back?” “Well, of course, darling, you do know that sugar daddies are a thing!” to which we held hands and silently howled. He was a delightful human to have encountered on the journey.

2 Gwaai Edenshaws. Woman George Hawken. Savoy Lovers’ Knot. Night & Day Mandala

My two trusty Gwaai Edenshaw bracelets in silver. Woman artist proof lithograph by artist and lover George Hawken. Savoy lovers’ knot in copper, @prince.dimitri normally he designs it in 18K gold; however, as my pyramid is made of copper, I had him custom make a gorgeously elegant couple of bracelets in copper. Love the infinity/eight and there are three of them. The day I took possession, I was so happy to have both that I began listening and singing aloud to Lena Horne’s “Do Nothin’ Till You Hear from Me” album. I then went to my red-interiored bathroom and was stopped in my track to discover my aura fully expanded, buzzing and brilliantly realised. Talk about flying without moving! It was a most exhilarating moment of transcendence. The Night & Day mandala created by Merlin, of course, was for a lover who preceded me by lots. Of course that lover abandoned Merlin when Merlin brought home a very famous actor who fell hard for the exotic, Shigeru who was Eurasian – Japanese/Caucasian… one of the most beautiful humans I’ve ever met. That actor is world famous and I’ve seen the photos of him & Shigeru in various stages of undress, tumescence and chaleur… so there’s that – beard notwithstanding.

And just like that, I was returned to Vancouver for the closing ceremonies of the Invictus Games. Better hotel and lots more time and adventures! So glorious to have lived here in the ’90s. I will always have the best memories of this wonderful city, especially buying art and attending pow wows.

Look at our Queen, Meghan weaving her magic. © @meghan

Gosh by the time that this video dropped, I was so happy to have long booked my trips. Surely, I would have done so on seeing this and Meghan’s ecstatic return to social media.

As Ever… Checkmate! © @meghan

This minute plus video is a masterclass in how the intellect of a person with master number 11 functions. We are strategic, deadly and will always win at any challenge. With those casually breezy words, all the detractors, the royals and their henchmen in the media were revealed to have lost. All along they’ve been playing checkers whilst Meghan’s been two moves ahead et voilà, checkmate! Now go sit your facile mind ass down. Meghan’s been playing chess all along and has as a business partner the world’s largest streaming service at all of 472$B, Netflx. But of course, there’s always been the firewall of Tyler Perry, Oprah, Nicole Avant and Netflix CEO Ted Sarandos, Nicole’s husband.

No one laughs louder and more vulgarly than a master number 11 person when they have flayed the soul of some damn bothersome fool. All the gleeful talk of the racially predatory naysayers that Meghan was washed up and the Netflix deal is up this year and won’t be renewed. All but written off by all the little genocide denier equally racist boors on behalf of their three shabbos goy sponsors

World’s biggest cancer-faking shabbos goy.

The way that troika love kissing up and playing grovelling shabbos goys. There was the 4th Baron’s bastard’s shiksa with the five strand pearl necklace. The way she sublimated and kissed up fully validated just who made whom cry. She is never, ever this ‘human’ with any other group but those who have an ongoing open campaign of animus towards Blacks. Indeed, no fake, wild-eyed, rictus grinning here as she uncomfortably did throughout their Platinum Jubilee tour of Belize and the Caribbean.

Drag him!

Luckily for the triple ugly dog, I had returned to Toronto within 24 hours. Imagine the gall of this motherfucking fabulist showing up with press credentials after having issued a threat against Meghan on live TV, when stating, “It’s Meghan I’m after!” I would so have loved to have truly dragged him with vituperative panache. Keep Meghan’s name outta your fucking stinking mouth! Disproportionately, there are Jews who act as though Meghan were Hitler reincarnated as they bay, lie and incite anti-Black racism. He went all the way to Vancouver just so that he can tell more tall tales about two persons of whom he knows sweet fuck all.

A little snow never stopped any party.

One of the wonderful things about Meghan, Queen, Harry’s Rock and Doria’s flower is how routine it has become for British tabloids to photoshop her images to make her look slightly cockeyed, larger-nosed, crazy-eyed and bucktoothed. Yet, they still print more stories than conceivable, in their bid to try and destroy this strong Black woman. Of course, this is all under the direction of the four principals: Charles, Camilla, William & Catherine.

Catherine by George, Charlotte & Louis

Prince George’s portrait is of a cold, detached, straitjacketed, readily explosive Catherine. The severe nose and crazed eyes of Charlotte’s portrait betrays the portrait of Joan Crawford by her daughter in the biographical film of her adoptive mother, “Mommie Dearest.” Louis with his vibrant, kinetic energy body of five paints a most compelling portrait. It seems to depict whatever bloodied violence occurred that saw Catherine emerge months later sporting a severe scar over her left eye, which had never existed before. God knows it is not as though she declared that she had suffered from melanoma and had surgery. Either way, the cancer-faking charade was as ever more proof of the perpetual lies that spew from the principals of the kingdom.

**Invictus Games closing ceremony, Rogers Arena, Vancouver**

Both Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex & Prime Minister, Justine Trudeau’s speeches were very rousing. I was really pleased to have been in attendance and witnessed the pride of the athletes and their families and supporters. The opening with moving speeches by four young ladies from First Nations communities was, for me, especially moving. Though it had been ages since having attended a Barenaked Ladies concert, it was a good vibe without Steven Page anchoring the group.

The day of my late flight out of Vancouver to Toronto, a Delta airline crash-landed at Toronto’s Pearson airport which had me hold up in Vancouver for a few more days. More time to go look at art, walk around the Lost Lagoon and shop for gorgeous jewellery and buy more art, of course.

As ever, Meghan has H, Archie and Lilibet, her mom, her fur babies, and, of course, she has more than 475$B reason not to be focussed ever on the dissonant noise that comes from the rabid island kingdom.

Sing!

Here’s to life. Here’s to Meghan. Here’s to Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex on another successful Invictus Games. As ever, love wins!

Reunion Blues – Oscar Peterson Trio 1963

Oscar Peterson – Piano

Ray Brown – Bass

Ed Thigpen – Drums

Live in Sweden, 1963.

___________________________________________________

You are to Jazz what wings are to an ostrich; what the fuck do eagles care that queer, unaware ostriches have wings?

_______________________________________________________________________________

What Started It All…

05.01.202502.02.2025 Arvin da BrghaLeave a comment

**Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex at the Grenfell community kitchen**

The morning after the June, 2017 Grenfell Tower inferno, which left the skies above Chelsea where I visited aglow, The Queen rolled up and paid the site, its devastated and displaced occupants a visit. As ever, she was fragile, gracious and commanded one’s attention and respect. She attended with Prince William as their visit was covered uninterrupted on Live local TV.

**HM Queen Elizabeth II & HRH Prince William, The Duke of Cambridge**

At the time, I thought it so odd that they came and commiserated, or at least appeared to have, then they were off. It was a, “so sorry for your plight now made worse with this added burden. Oh well, I guess I must be off now, carry on then!” I felt compelled to make a donation, as clearly there was no such largesse coming from the Windsor gang.

**Doria and The Duke & Duchess of Sussex**

The following year just shy of three months after they glorious Spring wedding, the Duke & Duchess of Sussex, accompanied by Doria arrived for a special gathering. It was such a glowing, heartwarming scene as an obviously proud, Prince Harry, looked on as his wife, Meghan, attended the book launch of Together Our Community Cookbook, for which she had written the foreword.

Within a year of her engagement and marriage, Meghan, the American with can-do spirit, had produced a gift for the people of the devastated Grenfell Tower community, one that would be all about giving back and making their struggle less arduous. This single act was so revolutionary; Meghan with her cookbook had demonstrated the true meaning of charity. She showed up with what mattered most, something practical and useful that could be of true assistance to the community. It was obvious at the book launch on September 17, 2018 that the newly minted Duchess of Sussex was beloved by the common folk of the Grenfell community.

**Royal Tour of The Duke & Duchess of Sussex, 2018**

A month later, October 2018, Harry and Meghan were off on their inaugural royal tour in the southern hemisphere. The following month, November the Firm, the institution and the royals who were threatened by Meghan and what she represented, went to work. So along came Camilla Tominey of the Telegraph starting the lynching and character assassination of Meghan with the lie that “Meghan made Catherine cry.”

**Marie-Christine racially attacks Meghan using blackamoor brooch, December 2017**

Where was Camilla Tominey, in December 2017, the year prior, declaring that Marie-Christine, “Princess Michael of Kent made Meghan cry.” Of course, she hadn’t and did it really matter? Tough, if the Yank couldn’t take a joke, right? They threw much at Meghan behind the scenes and Meghan adapted, proving herself Tungsten and worth it.

**The Duke & Duchess of Sussex The Mountbatten Music Festival, March 2020**

Meghan has master number 11 and for all of us, we are phoenix-like; 11 is an immensely transformative number and it is also about mastery… self-mastery. We are empowered by the colour of red, we are empowered, focussed, strategic and dominant when thusly enrobed. Here, Meghan is being a phoenix, throwing off the mantle of royal drama, politics – family, jealousy, the Firm, the press intrusion. In the proceeding photograph, Meghan wore that stunning red dress to the Mountbatten Music Festival; it was purely strategic.

**Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex on Oprah Interview, March 2021**

Here, in interview with the incomparable Oprah Winfrey, Meghan is being most strategic in her choice of clothing. She wears a black Giorgio Armani lotus dress. Ever self-aware, Meghan chose this dress and its colour because she was being deadly focussed and laying down the law in a very intensely vicious fight with the royals beyond her late Majesty, The Queen. She exposed the royals’ racism, vulnerably spoke of her suicidal ideation thanks to the acute racial animus that she experienced within the institution, the family and the media. To make her point, she chose that black Giorgio Armani because the dress bore a lotus flower; the most exquisitely beautiful flower which can only bloom for being mired in a swamp… utter filth – the royals, the institution, the royal rota and British media at large.

Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex in Nigeria, May, 2024

Meghan, summer of 2024, our Queen’s got something going on… stuff is cooking… there is that red again. Two marvellous tours in both Nigeria and Columbia but that red dress was putting us on notice… do standby…

**POLO Netflix Docuseries, The Duke & Duchess of Sussex executive producers, December, 2024**

Coming on strong, here were Harry & Meghan, The Duke and Duchess of Sussex, executive producers for the most exciting sporting docuseries on Netflix… on any of the streamers. From Louis Devaleix’s deliciously high octane vituperativeness, tempered by his tender love for his beautiful wife, and his mother-in-law who brings out the much-loved son in him. Poroto Cambiaso and Timmy Dutta brought the youth appeal.

Louis Devaleix, Adolfo & Poroto Cambiaso, Tim Dutta, Harry & Meghan, Nacho, Delfina Figueras H & M

Too, there is the arc of father son bond of Adolfo & Poroto Cambiaso with Poroto displacing his father at the top of Argentine Polo. The beautifully shot and moving docuseries is completed by Harry & Meghan with their trusted companions Nacho & Delfina Figueras pulling it all together in a commanding and winning project for powerhouse streamer, Netflix.

Meghan 2025… Something’s Cooking!

After the seventh wave’s retreat, a horizon beyond hung shrouded in mystery. What is about to come our way, we wondered, as Meghan playfully teased us.

**Meghan The Duchess of Sussex on Instagram**

Goodness me, not only was Meghan returned to Instagram, but with phoenix-like heroism, she proved that mighty seventh wave that swept us all away, yet again.

Let’s Go! With Love, Meghan Netflix

Tabarnak de frigging Christ, then along comes this most soul-intoxicating aperitif, further pulling us under. We are fully submerged in Meghan’s winning magic. Netflix knows that matters not what the baying detractors say, filled with lies and nonsense, doing #Peggalicious and the little grovelling bastard’s bidding, Meghan is not just the most feared woman on the planet. Netflix knows that Meghan is the most powerful woman on the planet… not just Black woman on the planet.

The Maddening Dissonance of Trolls, Royal Experts, Meghan & Harry Detractors

So let them sit there, cackling, baying and frothing at the mouth, perpetually lying and wishing ill, from Lady Battyface Camp-Balls, to gap-toothed Lady Tittydown, or the pasty XXXL Irish bully with an arse as wide as the fucking Panama Canal, to that disproportionate gaggle of genocide-deniers who know that every lie they tell, will be readily believed. How does it even matter? This also includes the barrel-hipped nez brun who’s on the outs with #Peggalicious’s *BAC posse; he who has to date driven two persons to suicide. Why even bother paying it any mind? Neither they nor their noise is any business of Meghan’s; they do not matter!

With Love, Meghan. Netflix

And there it is, the strategy of Meghan’s self-mastery. She is back and not just with a revamped version of The Tig. This time, she has gone one better, she is got a cooking lifestyle brand on Netflix with American Riviera Orchard kitchenware, dinnerware on offer. That is the greatest master stroke. With the aptly titled lifestyle series on Netflix, Meghan is reminding the royals what it was all about. She was removed from their midst because in having spearheaded and produced the Together cookbook, she showed up the Firm, the Royals and the Media for what lazy, ne’er-do-wells the royals truly are. Imagine that, in under a year, Meghan breezes into the institution and shows them by her actions what true charity looks like. She met without fanfare with the affected, displaced, untouchable Grenfell community, gave them a renewed sense of community and in the process, created a vehicle, the Together Our Community Cookbook, which to this day spectacularly fundraises for the ravaged community.

**Pancake flipped by Catherine, The Princess of Wales – Looks more like Chittlins**

Go on Meghan, prove to the world, across all time, that service truly is universal. It isn’t just about showing up in a pretty frock, grinning like a semi-feral gibbon en chaleur; it’s about doing the leg work, uplifting and inspiring others. It is not about showing up gurning like a drunken loon to flip a skillet that’s as flat as #Mumblelina’s arse, talking crap about flipping pancakes. Good lord, just look at Eliza Doolittle, drunk to the gills without so much as a fuck-all clue. The poor loon, no longer attending state banquets because as is the norm for separated royals, one can no longer wear a tiara. Then, too, there was the lack of a signature on the wreath left by William at the Cenotaph at Remembrance Sunday ceremony, November, 2024.

**Meghan… The World’s most powerful woman**

Meghan’s arrival on the scene proved disruptive. For that, the royals have unleashed a relentless campaign of character assassination, disinformation, enlisting all manner of readily bought detractors who troll for the prospect of proximity to the royals. These agents have multiple lines of attack, one being that the duchess was never pregnant and there are no offspring of Harry’s born to Meghan. Further, they try and eviscerate her Blackness from royal history by attempting to fracture the Sussexes’ relationship. They are forever implying that the couple are separated and living apart. Furthermore, they are ever implying that Harry is sick of being in America and desperate to return to the royal fold. Naturally, as everything is readily blamed on Meghan, they suggested that the Netflix deal has runs its course and as the Sussexes are running out of money, Harry will be returning to England but preferably without Meghan.

**Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex & Tyler Perry**

What are these desperate fabulists on about? Princess Lilibet’s godfather is a billionaire, which means that there is zero likelihood of Meghan and Harry going broke. Furthermore, with a billionaire godfather, there is positively no way that Harry & Meghan are leaving their bucolic California dream; more importantly, there is no need for the Sussex family to relocate to England. They have been racially preyed on, their lives threatened and police protection pulled.

**The Sussexes Happy Holidays, 2024: Harry, Lilibet, Meghan, Archie & adored familiars**

Master strategists, Meghan and Harry have been guided to their point of power. With Love, Meghan is about to show the world precisely why Meghan and Harry were sent packing. In a few short months, with Together Our Community Cookbook, Meghan exposed the fraudulent operations of the Firm which masquerade its staged appearances and passing them off as acts of charity. In essence, the royals do not do sweet fuck all. So Meghan’s character was attacked and made out to be a bully and wanting to do things as never before they had been done. Of course C4’s Dispatches: The King, The Prince & Their Secret Millions serves to further expose the extent of the fraudulence on the part of the royals and the great lengths to which they go to maintain and protect their unscrupulous swindle. The investigation was undertaken by C4’s Dispatches program in conjunction with The Times and Daily Mirror newspapers. Between the Together cookbook & Netflix’s With Love, Meghan, Charles & William have been further exposed for the venal, racist, money-grubbing boors that they are. Indeed, karma is like that.

**Phoenix Mandala for John Hirsch by Merlin, 1979**

Recently, when having my burgeoning art collection appraised, I happened on this glorious gem, created by Merlin forty-five years ago in 1979. After having been mentored by him, and directed shows at The Stratford Festival Theatre, where John Hirsch was artistic director, Merlin created the mandala for his mentor. John and his artist lover, Jean-Emile Sanscartier, lived at 187 Hudson Drive in Toronto’s tony Moore Park neighbourhood. Both Merlin & John were sick with full-blown AIDS, though, John had taken ill after Merlin. John’s last birthday, his 59th, proved quite the send-off. Everyone from the Hungarian Jewish mafia as John lovingly called his friends and colleagues was there, including Merlin & I – Merlin at that point was birdlike and frail even more so than John. Barbara & Murray Frum were there and many in the film world had also flown in from Los Angeles. It was a very grey, drizzly spring evening, for his May 1, birthday celebration. There were lots of tears, never displayed before John.

Here was a man who had been spirited out of Hungary by train as every other relative in every possible direction had continued on to concentration camps and death. Though for being Black, I was made to feel at times as though the help, no one there knew, save Merlin who thought it best never to advertise the fact, that I was of Sephardic heritage to their Ashkenazy blood. Barrick Gold CEO Peter Munk had been earlier before our arrival and it had been Peter’s father, Louis who had spirited John Hirsch and other young kids by train to eventually settle in Canada. John felt especially guilty, as he confided in Merlin towards the end, in not having carried on the bloodline; of course, today it would have been possible where not so when he lived. It was overwhelming seeing this mandala after all those years tucked away. I lost a few tears but as John would have it, I began playing his ‘Ella’ the music of Ella Fitzgerald because let’s face it, we are – all of us, men-loving-men, drag queens who readily howl in tune when no one’s watching, be it Edith Piaf, Madonna, Céline Dion, Diana Ross, Aretha Franklin, Barbra Streisand, Sarah Vaughan and most of all John’s favourite, Ella!

**Stratford Festival Theatre – Main Stage**

In the dead of the night, on August 1, 1989, John Hirsch died at Toronto’s Mount Sinai Hospital. The next day, my 29th birthday, Merlin insisted that I go to work at the greenhouse. He wanted to be alone and privately mourn his mentor, John. Calling him at noon as the most massive thunderstorm drenched the city, we both cried silently, mostly drowned out by the rain and thunder. Excusing myself from work early, I hurried home and together we hugged and cried as John was gone, which inevitably meant that Merlin would be leaving in due course. We listened to the recording, Vladimir Horowitz At Home, then bravely headed to celebrate my birthday at a lovely restaurant in Yorkville. Merlin died three months later, on his mother’s 75th birthday.

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Hirsch, John 1/5/30, Soifok, Hungary<O>1/8/89 Toronto

Michael: John was a fifth level mature warrior in passion mode, with a goal of dominance, a pragmatist in the moving part of intellectual centre.

This fragment had a Mars/Saturn body type.

John’s primary chief feature was arrogance with a strong secondary of impatience.

This fragment has a warrior essence twin, who is alive, and they may choose to meet when the fragment who was John reincarnates, during the first two decades of the new millennium.

In fact, he may choose to be born to his essence twin who is now a 16-year-old school girl but who would probably be closer to 26 years when the fragment who was John decides to reincarnate. She is Israeli, living in the city of Jerusalem.

John was second-cast in his cadence and his cadence is fourth in the greater cadence. He is a member of entity two – making him entity mates with George Hawken and Jesse Hawken – cadre four, greater cadre 7, pod/node 414; he has known both the fragment Arvin and the fragment who was Merlin in many prior lives.

He and Merlin are, in fact, old comrades-at-arms, which is the closest non-essence bond of all.

He has an artisan task companion, who is the fragment Jean-Emile Sanscartier, his lover in the immediate past life. Unfortunately, Jean-Emile’s chief feature stood in the way of their life task and it will likely be completed in a future life together.

This is an artisan-cast warrior with strong scholar energy in his casting. There is also a great deal of drama here and in the past, this has been put to good use on the stage, both in classical Greece and in fairly contemporary times in England.

A recent pivotal life for this warrior fragment was in the late nineteenth century, in 1878, when as a Zulu Warrior/shaman; he fought alongside Cetewayo, against the British and learned the agonising power of defeat, when they lost their struggle in following years and lived to see their homeland annexed.

He also learned, in this very recent life, the power of the dance in uniting the tribe and this lesson aided him greatly in his immediate past life. (1998)

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Ella Fitzgerald in Concert in Sweden, 1963

Ella Fitzgerald – Vocals

Don Abney & Oscar Peterson – Piano

Ray Brown – Bass

Jo Jones – Drums

Herb Ellis – Guitar

Roy Eldridge – Trumpet

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*BAC – backward-pussied, ass-eating, cocksuckers of which #Peggalicious’s posse includes the foxy but straight-acting, Christian type, The Duke of Buckingham & Norfolk, Jaysun Nuffnuff – the chinless hillbilly fabulist, Jasmine, the aggressive bottom retriever, Simi, the shit-obsessed encased pet fly. There are others, of course, but they all have this much in common – they favour beards, moustaches and are passionately obsessed with dining out en derrière.

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You are to Jazz what wings are to an ostrich; what the fuck do eagles care that queer, unaware ostriches have wings?

_______________________________________________________________________________

Hello, My Darling!

04.12.202412.12.2024 Arvin da BrghaLeave a comment

Triptych August 1972

Oil and sand on three canvases

My five-day trip to the most glorious jewel, London, was bittersweet. I got a call from Vanessa saying that Clive’s cancer had proven stage four with little time left him. There was but one choice, nothing to do but hurry off the phone, book a flight tout de suite to London. Back in late October 1982, after having met Merlin, my friend Clive, studying in the city, I set up on a blind date with Vanessa. She broke off the date at the last minute to rush home to Bermuda and attend her grandmother’s funeral. Undaunted, on her return, I insisted that they get together. By this time, Merlin was returned to New York and holding up at the actor, Patricia Neal’s UWS airy apartment. Merlin had met Clive and Vanessa separately and thought to have them to dinner; naturally, he cooked his favourite dish, chicken paprikash, which he had been taught by Stratford Festival Theatre’s artistic director, John Hirsch.

Manhattan rooftop water tanks

As we dined, with the shadows of water towers beyond the large living room windows, it was fairly obvious that my attempt at matchmaking had proven successful. From time to time, Merlin winked at me and squeezed my knee beneath the table as Clive and Vanessa on their first date had handsomely struck it off. As the blind date was going so well, Merlin suggested that they were welcome to stay and continue visiting whilst we headed off down to midtown Manhattan to take in the midnight showing of Gandhi at the Ziegfeld cinema. Merlin suggested that they could leave the apartment’s keys with the concierge and we would collect them on our return; it was obvious that they were getting along well and needed more time together, minus us as well. Clive and Vanessa laughed a lot and it was clear that they were smitten with each other.

Portrait of Isabel Rawsthorne

Oil on Canvas

Provenance: Tate Britain

Pushing five in the morning, we returned and thought it odd that the suite’s keys had not been turned in. We got off the elevator and on making our way down to the hall, there was the familiar shower of both persons laughing and giggling. Merlin knocked, not loudly, and we were greeted at the door by the smitten couple, each with cake frosting on their nose. They had been up talking and decided that, as it was well past midnight and therefore her birthday, they would bake a cake! Lots of laughter and warmth, whilst the cake set, Merlin decided to make a hearty breakfast of pancakes with Canadian maple syrup! Since that day, Vanessa and Clive have never been separated once; they even slipped into Toronto to visit me a couple of weeks after Merlin’s passing.

The bust of a man

Pen and Ink

c. 1545

Baccio Bandinelli

Hopped off the Piccadilly line, I crossed Green Park, on day one, to alight at The King’s Gallery, Buckingham Palace. The red-interiored salons were familiar, warm and grounding. I was bothered by the fact that the exhibition of Renaissance Drawings among which were works by unsurpassed genius, Leonardo da Vinci, was masterfully curated and hung. Each piece was expertly placed such that you could never evade the glare of intrusive lighting and the works of art hung on the opposite wall. I laughed aloud to a couple of women staffers, then eventually on making to the next salon, a lone silver-haired beauty engaged me. She wanted to know where I was from; naturally, my Canadian accent as articulated with the women registered with her. She lived, it turned out in Mississauga as her husband had worked at the corporate headquarters of the elegantly designed Mies van der Rohe TD Bank (Toronto Dominion Bank) for a couple of decades. She insisted that I make the trek to St. George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle before leaving; I assured her that the journey was foremost in my plans, having shared that there were 4 governors-general in my extended family to date. She was a gracious human of whom I dreamt two nights later and her aura unsurprisingly was most pronounced.

Reclining Figure

Plaster and string

1951 Henry Moore

Henry Moore & Francis Bacon, Tate Britain

From the King’s Gallery, I briskly made my way to Victoria Station, alighting at Pimlico where after being moved by Chris Ofili’s tribute to the Grenfell Tower tragedy, I scuffed at the Turner Prize fare, which would have been more convincing if there were also homeless persons encamped. The Francis Bacon & Henry Moore exhibition was soul-stirring. By now my feet were beginning to seriously ache as I had forgotten to pack walking shoes. Stepping into the unseasonably crisp sunny air, I hopped aboard the Uber boat and swiftly cruised down the river Thames to the Tate Modern. I was not especially inspired for having visited and for the first time, after so many visits, successfully strode across the millennium bridge where I ended up at St. Paul’s Cathedral. As always, I paid homage to Henry Moore’s plaque. From there, I returned to my hotel in Russell Square. My feet were blistered and ridiculously ached.

Moore, Henry 30/7/1898<O>31/8/1986

Michael: This fragment was a first-level old artisan – third life thereat. Henry was in observation mode with a goal of dominance. A realist, he was in the moving part of intellectual centre.

Henry’s body type was Saturn/Venus.

Henry’s primary chief feature was stubbornness and the secondary of arrogance.

The fragment Henry is fourth-cast in the second cadence; he is a member of greater cadence one. Henry’s entity is six, cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod 414 – he is an entity mate.

Henry’s essence twin is an artisan and the task companion a warrior.

Henry’s three primary needs were: expression, freedom and security.

There are 8 past-life associations with Arvin and 6 with Merlin. ______________________________________________

Though I had about 1.5 hours to showtime, in light of the election results in America and because I simply cannot bring myself to make compromises when it comes to Jazz, I chose not to attend the oppressive brutalism of the Southbank Centre and endure Jamie Cullum apeing Black culture. Fuck that! Besides, I realised on arriving at the hotel that the ticket was for a standing room spot; not with with blistered feet was I going to time-waste. When Whites said fuck you, we are not voting for a Black woman, all bets are off that I’ve got time to suffer stubborn racially predatory boors. Whites were enticed by the spectre of Trump’s Bible, which omits amendments 11 through 17, most importantly, the 13th amendment which promises mass incarceration if not enslavement for American Blacks. Thus, I spent a couple of hours talking to Vanessa, Clive and my spouse whilst icing my sorely battered feet.

Fortnum & Mason, Piccadilly

Rested and with lots of buzz from London’s vibe, I decided at 2215 to head to Leicester Square. Got off the tube into the thick of the Friday night throngs, making my way past the Hippodrome Casino. Outside beneath the marquee was a group of statuesque, beautiful Black women in their mid to late twenties, walking past, I said to the tallest with her back to the street, “You’ve the most beautiful hair!” “Oh thank you!” She had the largest afro of the group and wore the most gorgeous, large silver hoop earrings. As I gingerly walked along, they could be heard howling and remarking at the fact that in the middle of the chill late evening air, I was fanning myself – thanks in part to the side effects of one of the medications which regulates my health well into my seventh decade. I then slipped into the Knatchbulls’ formerly owned Curzon cinema in hopes of seeing Gladiator II; however, it was sold out and I would not likely be able to see it until after midnight. Next stop, the Vue cinemas to attempt seeing Wicked; still no luck. Never mind. I then gingerly ambled to Piccadilly Circus and enjoyed the groovy beauty of Fortnum & Mason then headed back to my Russell Square hotel.

Royal Academy of Art

Next morning, bright and early, I got to Russell Square tube station only to be horrified by the note that read that the Piccadilly line would be closed both Saturday & Sunday; perhaps, I ought to have ventured out to Windsor the day of my arrival. Undaunted, I elected to head by bus to Piccadilly circus and made my way to Lilywhites where I purchased a pair of sneakers and chucked the pair of too tight and heavy, foot-blistering nuisance in the bin. Spent little time at RAA; the Michelangelo was underwhelming and too crowded for my ubiquitously masked comfort – my spouse is 24/7 on oxygen; I can ill afford to become exposed to respiratory contagion.

Iris

Oil on Canvas

1890 Vincent van Gogh

Provenance: National Gallery of Canada

Next stop, Trafalgar Square and the rapturously overwhelming Vincent van Gogh exhibition at The National Gallery. Breathtaking beauty that is each canvas was marred by the fact that there are simply far too many persons currently incarnate. Sixty-one phenomenal works of art by the modern Dutch genius, which must have a market value of at least 2B£. Obviously, it is all about the biggest bang for one’s buck but the heat radiating off the masses moving from salon to salon was at times overwhelming. There could have been a system whereby 50 persons max per salon to allow everyone a good appreciation of each piece. As ever, the tallest persons always have a knack for planting their obstructive frame before a painting and taking their sweet damn time before moving on.

Sketch for a Portrait of Lisa (Sainsbury)

Oil on Canvas

1955 Francis Bacon

This exhibition, next-door at The National Portrait Gallery, because it left me so pronouncedly aware of George Hawken being ‘around’ that it, plus the sheer staggering beauty of Francis Bacon’s genius moved me to tears. This portrait of Lisa Sainsbury, the way her eyes mimic Akhenaten’s end up remarkably resembling singer, Thom Yorke’s delicate beauty; even the colours betray the haunting melancholia of Yorke’s soulfulness. By the time that I left The National Portrait Gallery, I was listening to Radiohead’s 1997 debut album, OK Computer. The movement and emotional brilliance of clarity in each Bacon canvas is humbling in its beauty. This, by far, was the most ravishing drink for the spirit. Also the very posh Milanese couple and family members were grounding to be around; they sung the language, which I studied for two years in high school.

Bacon, Francis 28/10/1909<O>28/4/1992

Michael: This fragment was a fifth-level mature artisan — fourth life thereat. Francis was in perseveration mode with a goal of rejection. A sceptic, Francis was in the moving part of intellectual centre.

Francis’ body type was Saturn/Lunar.

Francis’ primary chief feature was impatience and the secondary arrogance.

The fragment Francis is fifth-cast in the fourth cadence; Francis is a member of greater cadence five. Francis’ entity is five, cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod 414.

Francis’ essence twin is an artisan, who is extant, an interior decorator and female; his task companion a sage.

Francis’ primary needs were: expression, freedom and expansion.

There are 12 past-life associations with Arvin and 5 with Merlin. (February, 2018) _________________________________________

Portrait of D. H. Kahnweiler II

Crayon transfer Lithograph

1957 Pablo Picasso

British Museum

Day two of the Piccadilly line being down, and out into the grey-skied chill air, I ventured from the hotel, cutting across Russell Square and proved the first in line on Great Russell Street for the British Museum. Soon, Juan and I were chatting; he is in his eighth decade, enjoying retirement after a career spent at the Prado; he never said what he did. He clearly loved art and came every few months to London where the best exhibitions were to be had. Paris was long passé, Juan declared with a dismissive clipped laugh. After the not very dramatic Picasso print exhibition, I took off for The Japanese Galleries where, as ever, I found centre whilst visiting London. As agreed, we met up in the café, close to the two beautiful totem poles that lord over that sector of the sprawling institution.

Picasso, Pablo 25/10/1881<O>8/4/1973

Michael: This fragment was a seventh-level young warrior — third life thereat. Pablo was in aggression mode with a goal of dominance. A sceptic, Pablo was in the moving part of intellectual centre.

Pablo’s body type was Venus/Saturn.

Pablo’s primary chief feature was exalted arrogance and the secondary greed fixated on accomplishments.

The fragment Pablo is second-cast in the second cadence; Pablo is a member of greater cadence four. Pablo‘s entity is six, cadre one, greater cadre 6, pod 404.

Pablo’s essence twin is a warrior and his task companion a scholar who was known to him.

Pablo’s primary needs were: expression, freedom and security.

There are 3 past-life associations with Arvin and 1 with Merlin. (January, 2018) __________________________

The Japanese Galleries, The British Museum

Returned to the hotel, I quickly fell into sleep’s welcome embrace. As is habit, I dreamt rather lucid dreams, especially so for being in London. Among those eight dreams in 3.5 hours was a rather lucidly awakened encounter with Prince William and his wife; she was cool, tense and disinterested. I had a distinct impression that her mood was more so to do with their state of affairs than myself or anyone else for that matter. The three of us were the only persons. Catherine who had been stooped to the moist, wet ground was planting clippings. She declined to look when William called after her announcing, “Look who’s here.” When she finally stood up, being clipped, dismissive and took leave of more so him than me, William placed his left palm on the small of my back, caressed me with his left thumb; throughout the dream, I could very intensely smell him. He was calm, centred and without the trappings of his waking persona – numerology, chief features and centre. William is an older soul – sixth mature, who like every one in acceptance was gracious and civil – his father, King Charles III is also in acceptance. I awoke and ventured by taxi to an evening with Vanessa, Clive and two of their four sons. It was a very emotional evening and none of the past 42 years of rich memories, family life and subsequent generations would have unfolded had I not acted on spirit and dreams which assured me that I had to set up Clive and Vanessa on a blind date, a lifetime ago.

St. George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle

Moments after having spent a good two minutes in reflection, head bowed, facing due north, I quickly took this photo looking eastward. I was not the first to have arrived in the line at Windsor castle on day four, but as everyone ventured towards the castle’s staterooms, I turned westward and briskly walked towards St. George’s Chapel. There was an American family who’d never been before. On entering, they turned right, as I turned left towards the great west doors, en route to pay homage. After a few words with the crimson-garbed cleric, I bowed and meditated. Suddenly, the first dream had of the recently passed Elizabeth II lucidly mushroomed in my mind. The dream reanimated about me as I watched myself walk towards the transitioning astral plane habituée and placed a garment about her, keeping her warm, honouring her richly ennobled life.

King George VI Memorial Chapel (DailyMail)

I came to as the American family, having erroneously wandered off to the Albert Memorial Chapel approached. I took leave, allowing them to visit with the large black Belgian marble slab with bronze inlays that marks where Queen Elizabeth II, Elizabeth, her mother, George VI, her father, Margaret Rose, her sister and Philip, her husband are together entombed. Simple, elegant… poignant.

Freedom. George Michael 1990

Naomi

Well before noon and I was returned to London where I alighted in South Kensington. Small, intimate and the two films that accompany the exhibition leave no doubt in one’s mind that Naomi is a Queen. If weight considerations were not a concern, I would have purchased a few coffee table books from the exhibition. I listened to George Michael’s Freedom for the rest of the afternoon until taking a nap. This tiny exhibition infuses the Victoria & Albert Museum with intense beauty and style.

Campbell, Naomi 22/5/1970 London, England.

Michael: This fragment is a second-level mature artisan – third life thereat. Naomi is in caution mode with a goal of rejection. A realist, she is in the moving part of emotional centre.

Naomi’s body type is Saturn/Mercury.

Naomi’s primary chief feature is arrogance and the secondary stubbornness.

The fragment Naomi is fifth-cast in the sixth cadence; she is a member of greater cadence four. George’s entity is two, cadre four, greater cadre 7, pod 414.

Naomi’s essence twin is an artisan and her task companion is a sage.

Naomi’s primary needs are: exchange, expression and freedom.

There are 6 past-life associations with Arvin and 4 with Merlin. ____________________________________________

Andy Warhol & Jean-Michel Basquiat. Michael Halsband 1985

Next stop, I was off downstairs at the Victoria & Albert Museum to be thoroughly consumed by the staggering creative legacy of pieces from Elton John & David Furnish’s art collection. Truly arresting and brilliantly impressive, Fragile Beauty is a masterful exhibition. In light of Quincy Jones’s recent passing, the constrictor enrobed Nastassja Kinski photographed by Richard Avedon proved even more captivating. Why have I yet to get the hype over The Beatles? George Harrison and his vibe, I fully get. Hey Jude will ever be a touchstone, but them as a ‘thing’ remains for me utterly elusive. Billie Holiday captured in song proved more captivating than I anticipated. Some shots brought back memories of living in New York City in the early 1980s. Always found Keith Haring’s pheromones off-putting; he moved in the same art circles as dancer turned designer and lover, Attila Isaksen. Smiled at the memory of Attila and I, watching through a skylight Robert Mapplethorpe engaging in S&M at a loft in Chelsea. Our one sexual encounter was intense; I felt overwhelmed by the inordinate looseness of the man. On two occasions he had been leaving the S&M loft upstairs as I came bounding up the stairs to the second storey loft below his friends’. The third time this occurred, he rushed into the loft after me and our tryst was a noisy, feverish business; it was obvious that he was taken by my explosive kinetic energy. The exhibition’s photograph of Mapplethorpe reveals a possessed ghost of the dazzling persona I had encountered in late 1982; clearly, at the time of the photograph, he was being consumed by AIDS. By far, the best photograph of Malcolm X is part of the Elton John & David Furnish collection.

Trial proof of Self-Portrait: Reflection. Lucian Freud 1996

There could be no doubt why the pilgrimage was undertaken. This Lucian Freud exhibition of prints, though, not disappointing, was not the soul-stirring rapture that was the Francis Bacon exhibition at The National Portrait Gallery. I had been hoping to see Kai, Bella and other more notable works. The whippet Hugo was, without doubt, the highlight of the exhibition… at least for me. Feet sore though manageably so, I was returned to Russell Square and a dream-filled nap with one very memorable flying dream.

Freud, Lucian 8/12/1922 Berlin<O>20/7/2011 London

Michael: This fragment was a fifth level mature priest – third life thereat. Lucian was in observation mode with a goal of dominance. Lucian was a sceptic who was in the moving part of intellectual centre.

Lucian’s primary chief feature was stubbornness and his secondary chief feature was that of impatience.

Lucian had a Saturn/Mars body type.

Lucian’s casting is in the fourth position of the fourth cadence in the sixth greater cadence. He is a member of entity six, cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod 414 – Lucian is an entity mate of both Arvin and Merlin’s.

Essence twin for Lucian is a priest and his task companion is a slave.

The three primary needs for Lucian were: exchange, freedom and power.

There are 17 past-life associations with Arvin and 14 with Merlin. __________________________________________

The Tales of Hoffmann. Royal Opera House

Ah the magic of theatre. Naturally, as the house lights go down, Merlin always falls into my mind. I loved the fantastic elements of the Offenbach opera; so very rich, pandimensional and dream-like. A good seat was mine and adding to the experience was, the man in his early 30s sat next to me. He was possessed of that yearning so common to us the tribe of men. A Briton, he seductively danced as he had since boyhood with his chums. I sat comfortably engrossed in the opera, but was ever mindful of his arm and leg gently, with increasing tension, caressing against mine. By act three, he was sat arms folded his index and middle finger gently caressing my arm. Neither of us had moved from our seats during the second intermission; the date, copine, épouse whomever did leave whilst I sat deeply engrossed in my phone. Rhythmically, his thigh muscle flexing, thus he kept up the dance’s intensity. Though he proved arousing distraction, I was still disturbed after having visited with Vanessa and Clive, the latter clearly not much longer focussed in this world.

The Farnese Hercules. Royal Academy of Art

Last full day in the city where in the 18th century I enjoyed a life (male) at court as a musician. Always indeed, it is good to go home. I was returned to the Royal Academy of Art to finish off my tour of the place. There were, three days prior, too many kids screaming their lungs out. Satisfied, I then crossed Piccadilly and indulged in putting together an F&M hamper of goodies just in time for the holidays. Returned home, I read and rested up for the night ahead.

Tosca, Royal Opera House, Covent Garden

Round two and back for more! Returned was I for a glorious night of Puccini as the most beautiful production of Tosca unfolded. Gloriously improved seating; good to feel the orchestra fully washing over me. This performance was riveting and its staging and design were stellar. During my return from the first intermission, I looked up to where I was sat the night prior. My yearning seat companion leaned forward in his seat to peer down at me. The dance ever endures. The sets were marvellous.

Royal Opera House, Covent Garden

The second intermission and I went outside to make a phone call. Whilst admiring the monstrous Rolls across the street and whose grill is visible in the right corner of the preceding photograph, a concert goer approached and declared that he was alone. Did I smoke? No. Would I like some company afterwards; I had almost forgotten how cocky I used to be when young. My phone buzzed; there was my cue. Silently, I returned across the street and pleasurably relaxed into my seat for Tosca’s final act. Midway through the curtain call, I made a dash for the exit and hung out just inside the stage door for about half an hour then made it to the Covent Garden tube station… alone. Yes, my darling, à la prochaine, London!

Jones, Quincy 14/3/1933 <O> 3.11.2024

Michael: This fragment was a fifth-level mature artisan – third life thereat. Quincy was in the power mode with a goal of dominance. A sceptic, Quincy was in the moving part of intellectual centre.

Quincy’s primary chief feature was arrogance and the secondary stubbornness.

Quincy’s body type was Venus/Mars.

The fragment Quincy is second-cast in the first cadence. Quincy is a member of greater cadence four. Quincy is a member of entity one, cadre one, greater cadre 4, pod 129.

Quincy’s essence twin is an artisan and the task companion is a sage.

Quincy’s four primary needs were: expression, adventure, power and communion.

There are 6 past-life associations with Arvin and 11 with Merlin. _______________________________________________

Quincy Jones & Orchestra

Jazz pour tous

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You are to Jazz what wings are to an ostrich; what the fuck do eagles care that queer, unaware ostriches have wings?

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K_’aax_ada awg_a

03.11.202404.12.2024 Arvin da BrghaLeave a comment

K_’aax_ada awg_a (Dogfish Mother)

Serigraph

27.5 x 22 Inches

Edition: 95/95

IG: @tysonisnotbrown

Provenance: The da Brgha Collection

It’s all here, ovoid, formline; Haida excellence and agedness of spirit, elegantly, masterfully expressed.

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Ray Charles & Betty Carter – Baby It’s Cold Outside.

Ray Charles – Vocals & Piano

Betty Carter – Vocals

ABC Records

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You are to Jazz what wings are to an ostrich; what the fuck do eagles care that queer, unaware ostriches have wings?

_______________________________________________________________________________

Autumnal Mood

21.10.202410.12.2024 Arvin da BrghaLeave a comment

Heron

Serigraph

13.25 x 34.50 Inches

Artist Proof

Provenance: The da Brgha Collection

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The first dream that I had of Merlin, occurred four years prior to meeting him in the waking state. In that dream, there was the most beautiful heron which flew close by; it blinked and when its lid reopened, the eye had become liquid eventually transforming to the most intense white light. Forty-two years ago, after a four-year wait, Merlin sexily slipped into my life at my Hell’s Kitchen walkup. For the next seven years our dance together was truly sublime.

**Heron at Cowichan Estuary, Vancouver Island, B.C.**

The last time I saw Joop, whom I had met five years prior to Merlin, I stayed at this lovely home in Victoria B. C. for a couple of weeks. We drove up the TransCanada Highway to the northern tip of the island one weekend, stopping off at the Cowichan Estuary and Cathedral Grove. On the drive back, we were followed by a lone heron as we drove southward through Cowichan Estuary a local nature preserve for herons. I was reminded of Merlin whilst holding hands with Joop. Joop was the oldest and most sensual of my lovers; too, he has been the oldest soul of my lovers. It was sad to say so long to him last summer.

van der Pelster, Joop 12/1948 <O> 8/2023

The fragment who was Joop was a fifth level old artisan – second incarnation at this level – in the observation mode, with a goal of stagnation, a pragmatist, in the emotional part of intellectual centre.

This fragment had a Saturn/Lunar body type.

Joop’s primary chief feature was stubbornness with a weak secondary of self-deprecation.

Joop is sixth cast in his cadence and his cadence is fourth in the second greater cadence. He is a member of entity one, cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod/node 414.

Joop has a discarnate artisan essence twin whom he did know in childhood and an incarnate priest task companion, with whom no plans were made to meet in this lifetime.

This was a resting life for this fragment, whose three primary needs were: security, communion and exchange.

He was a sculptor in Russia – at the time of the 1917 revolution, took a stand with the communists and was killed in a riot in St. Petersburg. He chose not to be reborn during the Second World War, in Western Europe, but in an old soul country (Netherlands), rather than a mixed young/mature society.

At that time, the Soviet government was very early-young soul repressive, while the general population was mid-cycle mature and even though he was only 30 when he died, in that previous life, he chose not to be reborn in the Soviet Union and took a resting life in the Netherlands.

Arvin felt a connectedness with Joop because they are in the same cadre, and Joop had a great deal of service in his casting as does Arvin. Here is a priest-cast artisan who is a member of an entity one, so he has needs to serve both the higher ideal and the common good.

There was a great deal of the “Visionary” here, which is one of the seven aspects of the artisan. He was also a “walker” in that he could pierce the veil between the planes at will, even though he did not call this phenomenon by name.

He and Arvin have known each other in many previous lives. They have been lovers of both sexes and of both hetero and homoerotic orientation. Joop has filled the mentor position in Arvin’s support group three times.

Perhaps the most notable life that this fragment had was in the late sixteenth century-early seventeenth century, when he was the Flemish portrait painter and depicter of religious themes, Anthony van Dyck. Anthony was later knighted and is known historically as, Sir Anthony van Dyck.

**Massacre of the Innocents, Oil on Canvas. Peter Paul Rubens 1611-1612**

He was a good friend, sometimes-lover and collaborator of Peter Paul Rubens – during that lifetime, I was then briefly a lover of Peter Paul Rubens, female and a muse; the relationship was not long-lived. Both of these men, Anthony and Paul, were bisexual and lusty and enjoyed the company of both men and women, even though they pretended to be very good Catholic boys.

Interestingly enough, the fragment who was Peter Paul was in the immediate past life, the imminent American photographer, Ansel Adams – same great artistic ability, different medium.

Joop did have great ability to make his lovers feel loved; this is something that generally goes along with the latter part of the old soul cycle.

They are no longer so concerned about their own sexual pleasure, mainly because it is easier for them and rather commonplace but they do generally enjoy bringing others to the heights of ecstasy.

Every mature soul should have a late old soul lover at least once, just as the opposite is true. The mature soul brings to the sex act the passion and the fire, while the very old soul brings to it the skill and patience of so many lives.

All told, Joop to date has had 18 past lives with Arvin and 12 with his task companion – who was recently – Merlin Ben-Daniel.

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Duke Ellington & John Coltrane: In a Sentimental Mood

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Cover Photo: Portrait of Cornelis van der Geest

Oil on canvas

1620 Sir Anthony van Dyck

Provenance: National Gallery, London UK

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Self-Portrait

Oil on Canvas

1640 Sir Anthony van Dyck

Provenance: National Portrait Gallery, London UK

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Massacre of the Innocents

Oil on Canvas

1611-1612 Sir Anthony van Dyck

Provenance: The Thomson Collection, Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto.

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You are to Jazz what wings are to an ostrich; what the fuck do eagles care that queer, unaware ostriches have wings?

_______________________________________________________________________________

Bitch! I Don’t Need Fucking Gaydar!

18.08.202410.12.2024 Arvin da BrghaLeave a comment

President Obama bestows the Presidential Medal of Freedom on Vice-President Joe Biden

What you would want to do, is take you, your teeth, your crossdressing beard, take your private jet and vaffanculo in Italia. Keep the usual tumescent fare in your mouth, but do keep Biden’s name out your fucking mouth! Ton blasted cul… Lèche! As I once turned to someone at a dinner party at Les Karpinski’s Sentinel Hill home in tony West Vancouver and eloquently stated with vituperative panache, “Bitch I don’t need fucking Gaydar, I have had a life in showbiz and I am quite confidently in the know on this one.” At the time, there was discussion about the sexuality of a film actor with whom Merlin had had an affair. When I shared what I knew of said subject, I was readily dismissed by yet another pinched, bigot of the lisping and cum-farting brigade as telling tall tales. Thank you, President Biden and Dr. Jill Biden for your service to America. For five decades of the highest civilian service of putting nation above self. Love, respect and history will always honour you for what you’ve done for the American people.

Human civilisation comprises one planet in one star system; there are no secrets. Long years ago, I briefly worked in the theatre, and a friend of Merlin’s, I came to know; contacts like these, which are all about the best gossip to be had, are most assiduously curated. I happen to know that someone whose relative is a famous international plastic surgeon, who resides in Britain, is confident that Catherine had a facelift. It goes without saying that this is woefully obvious to anyone not a somnambulant, mere mortal on the Isle of Baby Reindeer. Truly bizarre how preventative chemotherapy can leave one looking, 173 days later, on the backend of a facelift.

Alleged cancer-stricken Catherine initiates kiss with Wimbledon champ, Barbora Krejcikova

Again, please explain to me which woman having or having had chemotherapy goes about initiating kisses with strangers whilst being immunocompromised. I have friends and relatives who have been in remission for years and would never think to handshake, let alone kiss, a stranger. Of course, this is the same workshy, charlatan, liar who after claiming Hyperemesis Gravidarum was known to have jetted off to Mustique and observed frolicking in the Sun with no signs of HG.

**Walking the facelift at Horse Guards Parade, 2024**

Just look at her on leg one of her post royal racist PR makeover. Looking for all the world like an aggressive-pussied femme au foyer; there was fraulein Naugahyde, swishing away as though arriving for a long afternoon visit at her gynecologist’s.

Catherine, the White Queen, is NOT racist as the White tribe attests

Then here she is, the lying, vile racial predator, who not only made Meghan cry but whose pegged and bothered illegitimate husband was curtly told by Meghan, “If you don’t mind, keep your finger out of my face,” putting in her only appearance at Wimbledon, the men’s final match. Like clockwork, she came in playing shy and demure, an act that she can deftly pull off for being of 1 mindset. Such persons, myself included, are not only lone wolves, but they genuinely do not like crowds, being on and all that. However, make no mistakes about it, this was about finally vanquishing the assault by a slave’s descendant of being a racist royal. Nothing infuriates and drives Whites to ready denial than being accused of being racially predatory anti-Black racist boors. But, you are darling, all nine parts, mumbled hissing, venom and aggression. There is positively no way in high hell that had Jasmine Paolini won the women’s championship that Catherine would have initiated a kiss.

**Prince Harry & Meghan, The Duke & Duchess of Sussex at the 2024 ESPYs**

Of course, two days prior, an ocean away, the slithering Lady Naugahyde looked on at the ESPY Awards and the call was made to fight back. Morning, noon and all goddamn night, they weaponise the media and her racist social media sycophants to vilify, demonise and have at Meghan. How exactly does it make the mumbling bore any less inarticulate than a pretty frock and fascinator make the Beard and Merkin’s cockeyed daughter any less ugly?

Prince Harry accepts Pat Tillman Humanitarian Award on behalf of the Invictus Games Foundation

Anyway, after their weaponised Fleet Street hacks’ febrile campaign to demonise Prince Harry for being this year’s Pat Tillman Humanitarian Award recipient, there was Harry, cool, suave and slaying in his Armani suit with, Meghan, the most elegant royal bride this century by his side. Graciously, he shot back at the same Fleet Street hacks who made of Mary Tillman an identical racially predatory boor as they have coached and handsomely paid Thomas Markle Sr. to be. By acknowledging Ms. Tillman in the same breath as a reference to his elegantly ennobled mum, Diana, Princess of Wales, Prince Harry temperately told the racist royals and their weaponised press to go fuck themselves.

One only has to look at the guests in the royal box at Wimbledon, 2024 to see the inscrutable way the Waleses taunt the Sussexes with their racism. Three separate days Baroness Marie-Christine attended Wimbledon and was ever given pride of place. The plan, of course, was for Catherine not to have attended the tennis championships altogether with The Duchess of Gloucester lined up to hand out the championship awards.

Naturally, the ever predatory and jealous Catherine could not have had Sophie, The Duchess of Edinburgh do the honours as she is more senior than, Birgitte, The Duchess of Gloucester. As Sophie is blonde and far better-looking than the older minor royal, she could not be tolerated to step in for Catherine. This gives further insight to how threatened Catherine was by Meghan being so senior a royal, Black with kids whose exoticism would have been a threat to the coverage of her children.

Day 12 and Day 14 of Wimbledon championships, the dates of the men’s semi-finals and final, Prince Michael of Kent, who is 52nd in the line of succession and his unabashedly racist wife, baroness Marie-Christine were in attendance. Always they were sat in the front row of the royal box and never on the fringe seats of the royal box where consistently, Earl Snowdon, Princess Margaret’s creative son is sat each year. David Armstrong-Jones, The 2nd Earl Snowdon is 25th in the line of succession.

On day 4 of Wimbledon, the grandparents of the future Sovereign, King George VII, Catherine’s son, were sat in the royal box. There sat Carole and Michael Middleton but once in Wimbledon’s royal box, yet the entitled, pretentious boor, baroness Marie-Christine, attended twice; she is not even wedded to a minor royal of note who unlike the Duke of Kent, his brother, does more royal duties. The 2nd Earl Snowdon is seen on arrival at Wimbledon’s royal box on day 12.

On days 6 & 14 of the Wimbledon tennis championships, there were Baroness Marie-Christine’s odd-looking son with the bizarrely deep-set eyes sat in the royal box. Naturally, for the DailyFail, they got maximum coverage and as the 53rd in the line of succession’s wife is Jewish, they were treated as though, he, rather than Prince Harry, were the Sovereign’s second son. Good god there were even photos of them at their wedding. Indeed, it is not enough to lynch Meghan at every opportunity, but it is as if their Jewish princess and her coke-headed hubby deserved to be made Duke & Duchess of South Kensington and moved into the unoccupied 21-room renovated apartment, next door to apartment 1A, the Waleses’ home at Kensington Palace. Her hubby is neither 5th nor 6th in the line of succession, yet there they are given coverage as though they are regularly on tour throughout the commonwealth, in service to King and Country. To whom pray tell is this couple’s existence important in the scheme of things that it warrants multiple photos, fawning remarks, replete with a photo of their ancient wedding as though it were a true royal wedding? I suppose in due course, Peggalicious can adopt the 53rd in the line of succession as his true brother, an adopted half-brother, and create a duchy for him as is the custom for sons/brothers of the Sovereign and future Sovereign respectively.

Now to the business of royal racism and using Wimbledon’s royal box to one-up Harry & Meghan, straight on the heels of their successful appearance at the ESPYs. Day 3 saw the ever glorious Maria Sharapova & her super cool hubby, Alexander Gilkes in the royal box. Others were not so lucky, like Marvin & Rochelle Humes, Jodie Kidd, Hannah Waddington and the always intoxicating, Emma Weymouth, Marchioness of Bath. This early in the championship, the big names are not out in force; furthermore, there was no need on the part of Peggalicious to eclipse Harry & Meghan’s appearance at the ESPYs.

Day 4 saw the grandparents of the future Sovereign, King George VII, Carole & Michael Middleton. The next day, 5, saw Oscar winner, Dustin Hoffman and wife, Andrew Lloyd-Webber recently installed as a Knight of the Garter and NFL Kansas City Chiefs champion quarterback, Patrick Mahomes & wife Brittany. They did not make it to the royal box.

On day 6, the royal box began the daily parade of sports luminaries, of which there were a few. Among the attendees was Sir Ben Ainslie whose suspicious closeness with Catherine, The Princess of Wales has seen him relocate to America, supposedly in preparation of the America’s Cup; but did it require having to sell his house, too? Also, in attendance, Chris Hoy. Cricketer Ben Stokes, an exceptionally handsome human and wife, Clare Ratcliffe. Gareth Edwards, Skater Jayne Torville along with Christopher Dean – not featured herein, Jos Buttler with wife. Rugby champion, Lawrence Dallaglio also in the royal box. Tennis great Mark Philippoussis also on day 6. Lastly, Peter Fleming was sat in the royal box.

Day 8 saw an actual royal in the royal box, Prince Albert II of Monaco with a female relative. Actor & philanthropist Lenny Henry with partner and Oscar winning actor, Mark Rylance all occupied the royal box.

Day 9th at Wimbledon saw the 28th in the line of succession, Lady Sarah Chatto and husband, Daniel Chatto. Michael McIntyre & Stephen Fry held court in the royal box. Also, in the royal box were Princess Beatrice & Edoardo Mapelli-Mozzi who’s commendably effected the princess’ blooming empowerment. On Stephen Fry’s other side was American actor, Lena Dunham. The other luminary couple in the royal box, actress Sienna Miller and beau, Oli Green.

Day 11 and the Wimbledon royal box was well attended. Queen Camilla & her handsome sister, Annabel Elliot sat front and centre at the ladies semi final matches. Also present was Bjorn Ulvaeus of ABBA fame attended. Camilla was sat between her sister and Deborah Jevans. Jemima Khan and actor Richard E. Grant were sat behind statesman, William Hague. After having been dumped by his wealthy sugar mama, Lindsay, Peter Phillips and his rebound fuck du jour were also present in the royal box. The Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby and his spouse were also spotted in SW19. Elusive actor Keira Knightley attended with her rock musician hubby. Former Governor of Bank of Canada and Bank of England, Mark Carney attended and chatted with William Hague.

On day 12, the men’s semi final, Annabel Goldsmith held court; she is the mother of Jemima Khan and Zac Goldsmith who also attended, same day as his mum and not the day prior along with his sister. Elisabet Ebenstein accompanied the dry-witted actor, Hugh Grant. Edward Norton attended with his mum, as did actor Rami Malek attend with his mum-in-law. Shirley Bassey was wrapped in a shawl. Birgitte, The Duchess of Gloucester was present; I don’t believe that I’ve ever seen, Prince Richard, The Duke of Gloucester, her spouse, in attendance at Wimbledon. Actor Stanley Tucci attended along with Tristram Hunt. The men’s semi-final was fantastically gripping.

Day 13 and the ladies championship. The young Black Italian, automatically precluded Catherine putting in an appearance. Win or lose, she was not prepared to go handshaking or make like nice to another Black female tennis player, in this case, Jasmine Paolini, who frankly choked for making it to the big time.

My lovely sister, Pandora da Brgha, her hubby, James van Hammer and our doctor niece, Edwina de Lavallée, who jetted in from New York City attended the ladies final at SW19. Persons who attended but were not in the royal box: Zendaya, looking as ever chic and elegant. Also, in attendance was actor, Pierce Brosnan who made a rather commanding 007 in his heyday. I am not certain if Tom Cruise was sat in the royal box that day, though, he definitely was the day following. Hugh Jackman was sat with the ravishing Kate Beckinsale, who days later demanded that that little twat, Lady Windsor, the royal kiss-ass and Middleton lapdog, retract an article in the DailyFail, in which the lying guttersnipe and anti-Black racist with an arch animus against Meghan, was called out for telling lies on the actress, Ms. Beckinsale. The Fleet Street vermin never learn. Also, in the royal box were broadcaster, Trevor McDonald and entertainer, Cliff Richard. Back for more, was actor, James Norton, looking less formal than the day prior. Lastly, in the royal box were Darcey Bussell one of the Royal Ballet’s true gems of her generation and fellow dancer, Johannes Radebe.

Finally, day 14, men’s championship; sadly, Carlos Alcaraz’s good luck charm, King Felipe VI was not present. Over the years, I have come to truly love Novak Djokovic, despite his vaccine politics. Myself, owing to my spouse being 24/7 on oxygen, we both have to get the latest Covid shot and I wear multiple masks at all times when out my front door. So no more annual subscriptions to the BOTS – Ballet, Opera Theatre & Symphony, but I will make the odd exception then take every possible precaution; the alternative is simply not an option.

Catherine looked sensational in one of the two official Wimbledon colours. The gold earrings beautifully complemented the purple dress. There was one odd moment where, when briefly in closeup, her mouth did this involuntary square smile, which she neurotically covered by abruptly collapsing her mouth shut. This sort of quirk, I have witnessed after persons have recently had work done when the new tautness results is muscle twitches as the new normal is being adjusted to.

On the final day, the royal box was flushed with powerful guests. After the Sussexes triumph at the ESPYs, you knew that the Waleses would respond. Catherine was accompanied by Princess Charlotte, who like her mother seems to be a warrior soul. Warriors and King souls are always the dominant partner in any relationship/dynamic. Future Sovereign or not, Catherine’s overleaves validate her being the dominant partner in their relationship in this incarnation; William and Catherine are, after all, task companions. Though she has always reminded me of Wallis Simpson, you first have to die before reincarnating; that rules out Pippa Middleton-Matthews having been Wallis Simpson in her immediate past life, the latter passed in 1986 whilst the former reincarnated in 1983. Really good to see Andre Agassi at the men’s final. I remember when his rock star vibes ruled at the SW19. Julia Roberts was a big get for the royal box; this only validates the BAFTA president, Prince William, The Prince of Wales, using his clout to try and show up the Sussexes. Does he not realise that Julia grew up knowing Martin Luther King Jr.’s family and would never countenance the anti-Black racism that the Waleses make no bones about projecting to the world, despite their denials. Tom Cruise was definitely in the royal box on the final day of Wimbledon. Benedict Cumberbatch and his wife were also sat in the royal box on the Wimbledon’s final day. Rod Laver, the Australian tennis maverick was present; good to have seen him.

**Supremacist Baroness Marie-Christine’s relations**

As ever, the royal family’s racist Baroness Marie-Christine and her gang were in full force, acting as though they were senior working royals. Then again, their presence was all about taunting Harry and Meghan; never forget how utterly obsessed, racist and petty William and Catherine are with Harry and Meghan. Finally, it is always good to see London mayor, Sadiq Khan, who thankfully is not a chav-like, blasted buffoon like a predecessor of his, who whored as Prime Minister in a bid to keep up support payments for his brood with multiple women.

That’s right, Peggalicious, losers never win and “never coming home” proved true of the UEFA trophy and Prince Harry, who made it perfectly clear that he has no intentions of bringing Meghan and his children back to Britain anytime soon. Indeed, congratulations to HM King Felipe VI and the Spanish football team for having won the 2024 UEFA Championship trophy.

Prince Harry Tabloids on Trial ITV Documentary, July 2024

Despite Harry making it perfectly clear during a sit down interview for ITV’s documentary, Tabloids on Trial, which aired on July 25, 2024, the tabloids still cakewalk as though, they had no knowledge of the documentary.

**Fabricated headline based nowhere in either fact or reality**

Furthermore, as though Prince Harry is not now engaged in legal proceedings against the Daily Mail, they persist with attacking and lying about both him and his wife. Meghan’s numerology is 4.3.4 = 11. There is nothing wishy-washy about this woman; for Meghan, no means “fuck off, you are dead to me.” Of course, the next day, DailyFail then published an article that Catherine was going to be able to spend the long summer spell at Balmoral Castle. This suggests two things: her cancer treatment is going splendidly and more importantly, the Sussexes are snubbed because they cannot be allowed to be around Catherine after the ‘negress’ had speciously alleged that there were racist concerns about Archie’s skin tone and what that would mean and look like for the royal family. Catherine has never had cancer and this was used for two reasons, to eclipse her revelation as one of two royal racists and to allow her plastic surgery procedures results to fully heal.

**Catherine The Princess of Wales Wimbledon 2024**

Never forget that Charles will never forgive Meghan for having outed him as one of the two royal racists – which eventually Omid Scobie in Endgame did, during her sit down interview in March, 2021 with Oprah. This is why when The Queen passed, Meghan was not allowed to attend Balmoral, why she was not invited to Charles’ coronation and why he will never see her blasted little pickaninnies. Charles is a fucking petty, vindictive, racist boor. Above all else, we Blacks know that you can never, ever expect Whites not to be White. Omid is truly commendable in having exposed the two royal racists’ names. After all, Prince Harry chose to backtrack and state during his ITV interview with Tom Bradby at the press rounds of SPARE that his family perhaps unknowingly suffered from unconscious bias. Well, thank goodness Omid cleared that up for Harry and Meghan in Endgame, leaving no doubts as to whom those royal racists are, Charles and Catherine; of course, they can hardly be expected to be the only members of the House of Windsor who are anti-Black racist boors.

As predictable as flies on shit, along comes another Meghan thrashing in that shit-stained Fleet Street cumrag, DailyFail, gloating over the fact that the royals yet again have not wished Meghan a happy birthday. Master numbered persons are thoroughly dismissive of persons who do not count for fuck all, Meghan included. Next day, along comes yet another article, crowning the racist baroness Marie-Christine’s daughter-in-law for her birthday. Of course, said article also had throwback photographs of her wedding in a dress that looked like cheap silk curtains that are usually seen in photographs with linoleum-covered floors. Even on her birthday, there was our darling princess on the cover of Tatler – that ode to White classist British snobbery, being celebrated for her desirability over the likes of the American whose birthday it was the day prior. You certainly won’t be hearing Chelsea Handler, Bethenny Frankel, Sharon Osborne, Angela Levin, et al, bitching with unbridled hatred about how the untrustworthy bitch, whom they do not like, is not deserving.

Let’s be very clear, the House of Windsor principals, Charles and William are letting the world know that they do not give a fuck about being perceived as anti-Black racists. By parading baroness Marie-Christine, she of the blackamoor brooch and the two black ewes named, Venus and Serena, they are telling the world that being anti-Black racist is not an issue. After all, this is a world where Apartheid existed in South Africa and the racism in Britain, from the ’70s riots in Brixton to the current racist attacks, the Sovereign(s) have not part lips, thereby showing their firm resolve that they do not give a living fuck. Tough! The fact of the matter is that Prince Andrew has all but been rendered invisible; he is not allowed to public functions as his exposed paedophilia is a source of embarrassment. More importantly, Andrew cannot be allowed to provoke the public’s wrath as to do so, will get people starting to talk about Charles’ association with Jimmy Savile, Gary Glitter and others who were/are known paedophiles. Mere mortals are readily played but parading racist baroness Marie-Christine and her ‘exceptional’ actress daughter-in-law who with her offspring were not problematic for the House of Windsor. Never mind that her kids are right little gubbiloutettes*, she is paraded front and centre and in the company of senior most royals as Charles, William and their spouses let the world know that they do not give a fuck about Blacks being butt hurt by their racism. Go fuck yourself is there staged response. Baroness Marie-Christine and her daughter-in-law do not end up at Wimbledon more than any other royals in the royal box in 2024, then turn up on the cover of Tatler if it were not sanctioned by Charles and William. William, of course, was quickly shielded way back when, as it emerged that he was doing cocaine in the company of baroness Marie-Christine’s son!

**William & his horribly scraggly beard**

Go on, you two, go out of your way to spite Meghan even more, by making your darling Jewish princess, The Duchess of South Kensington. If only one would read the fucking planet because in this post-October 8, 2023 paradigm, no one, having seen what – thanks to social media being at the epicentre of genocide, we have borne witness to, have long ago ditched what was a most suffocating jaundiced status quo. Go on, as Olivier a Montréal friend always sarcastically said in imitation of Oprah of Hollywood and its Brahminism, “You get an award! You get an award! You get an award!” Blasted murderous thugs.

**Never mind Tom Cruise, what has Catherine had done to her face?**

Again, please explain why this tactic was not taken on Catherine’s return after 173 days. There was that photo in Berkshire where her face was unusually bloated. At that time or since, any number of plastic surgeons could have been employed by the Fleet Street thugs and done an honest assessment of what work Catherine had done and by a number of leading plastic surgeons.

Instead, we keep to the line that she has cancer; of course, Tom Cruise can also be savaged as he is, after all, a mere Yank at the end of the day. I will say this much, as is clearly obvious, no amount of plastic surgery ever succeeds in glossing over the look of a hard-faced drunk. For her petty, racist obsessive grudge, which clearly extends beyond Meghan to now include Blake Lively, you can never fathom how petty these senior royals are.

Blake Lively for having provoked the wrath of the royals and their Fleet Street thugs, has found herself in hot water. Of late, she has been character assassinated, on a daily basis, with the DailyFail going to great lengths to show what a dishonorable person she is; all this because she made a quip about Catherine, The Princess of Wales when she was in hiding recovering from her facelift and not cancer as they have speciously alleged – there is no such damn thing as preventative chemotherapy. Let’s face it the House of Windsor has for generations had serious credibility issues.

She said what the hell she said and there is no reason for her to have turned around and obsequiously apologised when Britons do not give a goddamn about ‘Yanks’ and are having quite a go at eviscerating Blake’s character. Look at the campaign by British tabloids to have Blake cancelled for having given offence to their boring, inarticulate princess whom they damn well know does not have cancer but had a facelift and they fully understand, it was all a PR stunt. Blake is American, a proud self-made one at that; why should she be lynched by racist boors whom Americans defeated near 250 years ago. All this BS because the Waleses are toxic bullies and vindictive in the extreme. This headline is precisely why Blake’s SM presence is being swarmed by legions of royalist zombies hurling abuse at her. Don’t they realise that Blake is a core friend of Taylor Swift’s and her husband Ryan Reynolds will scrap with anyone in defense of his wife?

The Misogynoir Hatemongers’ Ball, an affair about as socially relevant as Pluto is to Sol. They peddle in lies, anti-Black racism and hatred and vilification of the first Black woman who broke a glass ceiling, in this case, marrying and bearing two children to the son of the Sovereign. Naturally, their stock in trade is to deny the existence or the legitimacy of Harry and Meghan’s children. Meghan for these vile trolls is no different to Michelle Obama, Dr. Jocelyn Elders, Vanessa Williams, Kamala Harris, Oprah Winfrey and many others. They are all firsts in their own right as Black women and for that, they are reviled, and no end of hatred and lies are told about them all. As Merlin said of bad productions like that masquerading on YouTube and elsewhere, “They may think it’s theatre but it is no more than farce!” Just look at it, lady my ass… Bitch you neither bleed nor breed!

When I was a child growing up in St. Kitts with its French, English and most definitely mysterious African influences, there was the most fascinating event that occurred when I was an eight-year old boy full of laughter and most lucid dreams. A family which had relatives in the U. S. Virgin Islands and travelled there from time to time, then received a parcel, at the holidays as one does. These parcels are seen as major status symbols. Well, the most fascinating spectacular soon befell that family. At all hours of the day and with no regularity, there would be screams from the house and clothing and suitcases, thrown from the house into the yard. They would be ablaze with the most white-hot looking blue-white flame. The flames had the most peculiar smell, which I have never smelt since; oddly enough, the flames made no sound. The flame would last for several minutes soothing up the item(s) aflame and then abruptly the pyrotechnical oddity would suddenly cease with an abrupt plopping out of existence. There were times even whilst fully clothed, the family members would be set ablaze. As school children, my chums and I could not wait for recess to rush across the street and take in the spectacle of the jumbie fire*. There was no getting around the fact that there were unseen forces at such times when the flames were active. This only ever occurred within the confines of the family’s home and property. Then at the exact six-month anniversary, the ‘obeah*’ induced jumbie fires simply stopped. During the course of that time, the family lost its status with at least one member fleeing the island and going off (going crazy). The tale was that the family had provoked someone’s wrath and as a result they were obeahed and that was that. For these vile racist trolls, who relentless lie and racially prey on Harry and Meghan, what a pity that Meghan’s maternal family were not West Indians…

So you know that Catherine and William are nasty people, there was Catherine in Soho on the eve of the coronation, familiarly speaking for long minutes and taking selfies with the subject on the far right in the photograph taken at the hatemongers’ ball. That troll spends night and day online, inciting anti-Black racism against Meghan, which like all cowardly racist Whites, will be readily denied as having any basis in racism and besides they always have some fucking absurd anecdotes about their Black friends and, of course, like Blacks for Trump, they’ll always be some self-loathing fool glad to be within the clique by hating Meghan even more vociferously than most. William made an attempt to have Catherine stop speaking to said troll and move along. Finally, when the Waleses were returned to the Range Rover – duct taped sideview mirror and all – as they began pulling away, William could be heard reaming Catherine as she looked out the window, doing her usual, “Fuck you, I’m a rich White girl and I don’t give two fucks,” rictus smile. The photos were captured from TikToker London City Walks livestream that day. All those professional trolls are a testament of just how much we Blacks are obsessively stalked and hated by the racial predator. I cannot think of anything more base a displacement of humanity than to make money off someone you actively hate with consuming ugliness of spirit. Truly, not fit to piss on… except on their graves.

Well, will you look at that. Perhaps, in the pre-October 8, 2023 paradigm, Kamala Harris would feel obliged to choose Josh Shapiro as her running mate. Of course, from the word go, the misogynoir surfaced, with the same accusations as levelled at Meghan being regurgitated about Kamala. Then there was the all-out racist vitriol in the comments at English language Israeli newspapers online. The usual canards were ubiquitous: she is an anti-Semite. We know the Blacks hate us. We are all voting for Trump. Well, if you are going to be so selective, could it just be that Harris and Shapiro simply would never get along? Oxes (Josh) and Dragons (Kamala, and Walz, for that matter) do not make good business partners of any kind; their numerology is also at odds.

Joan Rivers Lies about Michelle Obama

Oldest trick in showbiz, as Merlin would say, how does a Jew be racist towards Blacks? Tell a lie and make a joke of it, “ha ha ha” and readily one is believed and, of course, it is true. Well, there is the little wingless monkey from The Wizard of Oz, rotting in hell and ugly the fuck as ever. Go fuck yourself, racist gilt! That, and never having found the time to pull a second best actress Oscar from high up your ass to award a Black actress, couldn’t possibly be reasons enough why Shapiro is not on the ticket.

**Racist Briton not voting for Kamala. Truly shocked…**

Treat people like shit, being racist boors and expect them to either forget or suffer you… In what world, pray tell, would this even make sense? Seriously, how does your boohoo grudge even matter? 70% of the American electorate, you are not. Straightaway, the markets went into freefall, and did anyone even give two fucks? It is after all SOP. The ugly grudge behind Joan Rivers’ ‘joke’ is that Michelle Obama, like Meghan is a Black woman and first – first Black First Lady and first Black to marry the Princely son of a then future Sovereign, and for that on this planet, she will be the subject of the most virulent misogynoir.

**Vanessa Williams, first Black Ms. U.S.A winner, 1984**

Just look at what happened with another first, Vanessa Williams. Vanessa having been the first Black Miss U.S. A. had to be cancelled. Her victory was an affront, and by whatever means, she had to be disgraced and fall from her Icarian heights. Near the end of her reign as Miss U. S. A., Penthouse magazine published nude photographs of Ms. Williams, which were grounds enough for her to have relinquished her title and be disgraced. Had this ever happened to any of her predecessors? Of course not. Had any of her predecessors modelled in the nude prior to having been crowned? This very likely had been the case, but there was no scandal to be had in thusly exposing a White Miss U.S.A. Penthouse publishing the photographs, was about letting Vanessa Williams know that all she was, was a cheap whore and not deserving of the Miss U. S. A. title.

Kamala, Meghan, Vanessa, Michelle Obama and many others, including Oprah. They will always racially prey on these trailblazing Black women and lynch them in the media and by any means necessary, especially if they can do so via sexual scandal. That is the ugliness of misogynoir. Another trailblazing Black woman is Dr. Jocelyn Elders; she was appointed by President Clinton as the first Black female Surgeon General of the United States and only the second woman. Her appointment was seen as controversial. Everything this woman said was met with consternation and ridicule as though she were an uneducated, unqualified, unemployed woman from the sticks, who had been appointed to the job as a prank. Eventually, Dr. Elders had to resign because of her comments on masturbation. It is not just a matter of NIMBY (not in my neighbourhood), but it simply is a matter of being lynched and disgraced for having made it into the history books. Of course, we are today arrived at a chilling moment where racist boors like that homo-repressed jackass, Ron DeSantis go around banning Black books and there is a White tribal campaign that would like to remove Black history from the American education system altogether. Please then stop insulting us by squatting all over Jazz; positively nothing is more repugnant than having Black culture thusly violated.

**Jeremy Clarkson incites anti-Black racism against Meghan**

Another example of DailyFail’s relentless campaign to defame and incite racial animus against Meghan. Jeremy Clarkson, that ugly racist White male asshole, launches a second attack on Meghan, criticising her baby shower in New York – five years on, and positively every comment becomes an excuse for racist mere mortals to rabidly regurgitate lies and indulge in racist animus towards Meghan, the Black woman who dared to shatter the mythos of their princely fairytale.

**Harry, Meghan & The Queen royal ascot, June 2018**

No assholes, the baby shower was a way to escape the surveillance and racially predatory hellhole of courtiers and the Waleses so that plans could be put in motion – one always needs a Plan B when possessed of master numbers. Clearly, for Meghan, the experience of life at court was insufferable. The Queen did as much as she could; however, both The Queen and The Sussexes knew that there was no getting around Charles and William when she was fast en route to the crypt at St. George’s Chapel. Like a true entity mate, The Queen knew the wisdom in bestowing her blessing on The Sussexes’ union, because with little time left her, there could be no lengthy courtship. The Queen knew that were she to die, neither Charles nor William would have sanctioned the marriage of Harry and Meghan.

Pimped by gangsta playa, Snoop Dogg

So many moons later, just look at the desperate for approbation, “we are very much not a racist family” go out and lasso Snoop Dogg. Do these clowns not realise that their racism is an open secret in Hollywood, Black Hollywood most of all? Baldy tryin’ to flex and as ever, coming up short. They are racist boors and people never forget the way you made them feel or the wrong you did to them and continue to as you persist with pimping out your Fleet Street whores on the Sussexes.

Ms. Thiel’s log cabin hussy, never goes tricking without her Maybelline

Goddamn those log cabin Christian Nationalist Fascists; first they wanted closeted Mike Pence a heartbeat from the Presidency. Now, they want this pretty-eyed crossdresser with eyeliner like Elizabeth Taylor’s on the ticket. Certainly, he is not gonna set off Gaydar before November 5. What this log cabin madness has brought to the surface, is the abiding open racial animus from White Gays towards Blacks. Naturally, as Kamala did not choose Pete Buttigieg, White Gays have been pissed. Twice I was openly verbally attacked in the Gay Village for merely being on the sidewalk with my bike en route to or from a store. Come 2025, I hope that director, John Waters is able to convince J. D. Vance to star as Martha in a crossdressing musical remake of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Kamala could not for being Black and female have chosen Buttigieg as a running mate. She would readily lose centrist, Christian voters for whom Gay marriage, lifestyles and politics are a compromise that they are not able to morally address as open-minded as they see themselves.

Lena Horne Believe in Yourself 1981 Tony Awards

Another incident occurred post-Kamala’s campaign kickoff, which coincided with the 77th anniversary of Merlin’s birth, as I stood in line waiting my turn at the depanneur. Without fail, bigots emboldened by whatever they’ve seen and said on social media or on TV, they head out into the world intent on being racially predatory. Sure enough, along came Karen number 1 billion, 8 hundred million, five hundred thousand and sixty-one; just shy of six feet, she vulgarly barked down at me, “Look buddy, I was in the line first, get out of my spot!” Slowly, I turned and looked, “Yeah you, I’m talking to you!” Naturally, as she is White cisfemale, no one said fuck all, which made it my turn. “Bitch your ass is flat for a fucking reason, go the fuck home and take more cock up your fucking flat ass. Do I look like I just ate a goddamn Rodney King sandwich for fucking lunch?” Born a West Indian, I rudely sucked teeth at her and soon it was my turn to ring in my purchases. Her little scene not quite going as she had intended, the racist boor began baying blah, blah, blah, over which I loudly drowned her out by reworking the lyrics with a coloratura coda of vocalese, “What a little sunshine wouldn’t do….”

**Spiritual lightsabres and music to keep chakras, aura centred & fortified**

The Asian male cashier, acting as though the vituperative contretemps had not occurred, nervously said hello then graciously wished me a good day, as I took leave – you’re damn right, it was a fucking good day. Every goddamn day I head out my art-filled home, I will experience racial aggression in varying degrees of intensity; that is simply the state of the world and both a world and personal truth. I am also acutely aware that every goddamn day on this planet, White males in alarming numbers are on every continent, having sex with minors without little to no repercussions or media the world over addressing this sexually predatory pandemic. Somehow, this 5’4″ Afro-Sephardic Queen is being treated as though I had just humped that lunatic racist boor’s fucking chihuahua. Da fuck? Thus, I came home and had Lena Horne’s magic repel that low-vibrational ghoul and her hideously dense energy the fuck off my aura.

**Charlie Drinkwater & Doug Wilson, 1977**

Charlie Drinkwater and Doug Wilson were two of the most gloriously idyllic friends and lovers from my youth. I met Charlie when I would sneak off to The Quest disco on Yonge Street after studying at the Metropolitan library on Yonge at Asquith, I would then hightail it down to Yonge and Hayden Streets, where I danced my heart out oftentimes with Charlie. They were the loving and most nurturing role models of mine. I was not yet eighteen, when I met Charlie and years later, I would meet Doug in about 1985.

Doug came to a garden party at our Cabbagetown home with a mutual friend, who had actually set up Merlin and me on the blind date that started it all. Doug and I looked into the other’s soul, said hi, kissed, purred and our past-life bond was reaffirmed. Charlie was the first person whom I kissed who smoked cigarettes; it took some getting used to. Charlie loved foreplay and a super kisser of the rarest kind, he certainly was. Doug was the most flagrantly idealistic, gentle-souled lover imaginable. It goes without saying that he is an entity mate with whom I have shared many past lives, our late 20th century encounter being the 36th, which is a lot. Charlie and I were sharing our 19 reincarnational association in fin de siècle Toronto. Charlie, like Doug, is an artisan soul in my entity. Doug and I had a robust, casual sexual relationship, which was always about the most soul-soothing intimacy imaginable. They protected me and watched out for me in a way that was not commonplace in the Gay community. They made me feel at home by having me contribute to their passionate activism by helping to make posters for the marches and demonstrations. Also, among my role models was the actor, Errol Ramsay; the Bajan was the sweetest most kindhearted human imaginable. Thus, quite jarring it has been for me with all these persons long passed of AIDS, to currently experience the open racist hatred from twentysomething and thirtysomething White Gays.

Two days running as I did errands on my bike, I was accosted by tall aggressive bottom-looking White Gays who predatorily approached me as I rode on my bike. One told me to get the hell off the sidewalk and out of the neighbourhood. The day following, the three Gays who likely lived in the Vaseline Tower in which the depanneur is situated, aggressively made for me. One of them shoved his hand in my face as I hopped on the bike to ride it off the sidewalk. It is a very wide sidewalk and there was no one save the three of them and a few others coming towards me, and at a distance to the three Gays’ rear. “Get off the fucking sidewalk!” There was so much hatred in his tone; of course, I knew that it likely was rage at Kamala Harris not having chosen Pete Buttigieg as her running mate, Ducking my head as his right index finger came at me, I broke and hopped off my bike, and shot back. “Yeah, you want some, come on, you fucking backward-pussied, ass-eating cunt! Come on!” “Keep off the fucking sidewalk,” he shot back as they kept walking away. As though he so much as owned the damn sidewalk. “Trump’s gonna win and too bad for you,” called the blond in the middle. “Becky shut the fuck up and crawl the fuck back in your Vaseline log cabin,” I called after them as they kept walking away. The level of animus and racist aggression has since July 21, when President Biden stepped aside, is palpable; I cannot begin to imagine what it must be like in America.

Serigraph

32 x 32 Inches

Artist Proof: II/III

Provenance: da Brgha Collection.

Before he passed last August, my oldest friend and lover requested that I purchase a First Nations piece that I could use when meditating and on reflecting on his life and our abiding love. Sweet and blissful dreams my darling.

*Gubbiloutette – unfortunate looking. (Posh patois of creole origin; St. Kitts was both a French and English island).

*Jumbie fire – Jumbie is patois for ghost or occult/obeah phantoms.

*Obeah – patois for voodoo, the occult, sorcery.

Modern Jazz Quartet North Sea Jazz Festival 1982

Modern Jazz Quartet grooving the souls of the spiritually evolved.

Percy Heath – Bass

John Lewis – Piano

Milt Jackson – Vibraphone

Connie Cay – Drums

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You are to Jazz what wings are to an ostrich; what the fuck do eagles care that queer, unaware ostriches have wings?

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Dreams are the poetic expression of the soul.

Category: 20th century American artists

An Orgiastic Porcine Feast (Redux)

Redux: Patron Saint & Queen of the Karens. Victim. Virgin Mother!

A Statement by the Communications Secretary to Prince Harry

Gonna Have A Gay Ole Time in Rio!

William-Arthur Is Relentlessly Obsessed.

As Ever!

What Started It All…

Hello, My Darling!

K_’aax_ada awg_a

Autumnal Mood

Bitch! I Don’t Need Fucking Gaydar!