Theft of the American Crown Jewels…

These are America’s Crown Jewels.

1. Cambodian Crown Jewels, British Art Dealer 2. Koh-i-Noor Diamond, Imperial State Crown of UK 3. Benin Bronzes, British Museum 4. Elgin Marbles, British Museum

Like the Cambodian Crown Jewels, the Kohinoor, the Benin Bronzes and the Elgin Marbles, the rapacious barbarians of the island kingdom must have them. If it is of value then it is theirs for the taking as it has been for 1.5 millennia, most especially so for the last century with regards American awards and the last half millennium through enslavement of African peoples, the spoils of Apartheid at the dehumanising expense of South Africa’s millennia aged original inhabitants. Justifying that rape and pillage has occurred with a reanimation of Brahminism.

When Will Smith walked onstage at the 94th Academy Awards and slapped Chris Rock; he kicked opened the doors for a sea-change; however, at the time, no one could quite perceive the event for the golden opportunity it actually is. Within days of the shocking event, the violent Black man who to that point had the squeakiest image in Hollywood, at least for a Black man, was dealt with. The Academy board of governors decided to ban Will Smith from appearing at the Oscars for ten years.

Back in the autumn of 1983, Merlin and I were holding up in actor, Joe Morton’s Upper West Side one-bedroom apartment that looked south. It was there that we took vows and became committed to each other until one of us passed… we kept those vows. Joe was off in England filming a television series whilst I nursed an injury caused when in a nasty car crash. We looked at a lot of film from Joe’s library, one of which was Black Orpheus. One evening, Merlin cooked a chicken paprikash and had two other couples over, both Black. There was talk about the Oscars earlier that year and how exciting it was that Louis Gossett Jr. had won best-supporting actor Oscar for An Officer And A Gentleman, which was a landmark first. After dinner and more great sex, we returned to the discussion about the Oscars that year and Hollywood politics. I had failed to see anything exciting about winning a best-supporting actor rather than best actor Oscar. Merlin in his charming way made an analogy after he declared that not in our lifetimes would a Black woman ever win best actress Oscar; Merlin was also just brutality pragmatic and honest that way.

Hollywood, Merlin stating the obvious, was a business of make-believe where one staged the desired outcome. In that sense, Merlin shared it was the greatest propaganda tool. It is a world where reality is made in the image of what those in control, would want it to be; in such a reality, Blacks could never be seen to be triumphant. Merlin then touched on the 1936 Olympics in Berlin where Jesse Owens won four gold medals before the debased terror, Adolf Hitler, thereby shattering his belief and propaganda of a master race that’s superior and always the winner. That event, said Merlin, was a real time event which could not be manipulated to achieve the desired outcome as Hitler would have it. Then, said Merlin, Hollywood and its awards are the antithesis of real time events like the Olympics. In the world of Hollywood, even if nominated, Blacks simply were never going to be allowed to win Oscars, just being nominated was good enough and a show of Hollywood elitists’ largesse. Hollywood said Merlin is a Jewish town, after all, and thus Blacks could never be expected to win Oscars, unlike winning Grammys or even Tonys. Besides, said Merlin, Hollywood elites were obsessed with making it in London society and were in bed with royals and getting to play in the truly big leagues. At the time, that angle escaped me; however, he had made the reference to Ben Kinsley winning best actor Oscar that year for his phenomenal performance in Gandhi which Merlin and I had seen the autumn prior at the Ziegfeld Cinema on West 54th Street at midnight, which I then thought the height of sophistication.

The following afternoon, Shawn Kerwin dropped by whilst we listened to the marathon live matinée broadcast of the Metropolitan Opera Centennial Gala. Shawn had designed the golden rolodex which was on display at Lincoln Center and dropped by as she would soon be designing a play back in Toronto that Merlin would be directing. The concert was mind-blowing; we made more love, napped into evening, made more love and then had dinner in the neighbourhood, came home and talked long into the night after he finished devouring another book. As was customary in those nightly discussions, we revisited the talk of the Oscars. Merlin apologised if he sounded pessimistic but he assured me that not during our lifetimes would a Black woman win best actress Oscar. Alas, that proved true for him and just about true for me; truth be told, if 9/11 had not occurred, Halle Berry would not have won best actress Oscar at the 2002 Oscars.

Along with Will Smith slapping Chris Rock – as well he damn well ought to have, based on the latter’s hideous Netflix special of March 2023 – the unfolding drama of the Sussexes has made total sense of Merlin’s predictions of four decades earlier. I have come to see how Hollywood keeps Black actresses at bay by favouring Britons and other White non-Americans. This is not just a disservice to American cinema but it is also illegal activity. I came to see how in Meghan, Duchess of Sussex’s lynching at the hands of the Prince & Princess of Wales in concert with the Courtesan Queen cast greater insights to what causes the embargo on Black actresses winning a best actress Oscar. William is president of BAFTA which has its only foreign branch in Hollywood, which it dubiously called BAFTA North America – it has nothing to do with Canada and everything to exclusively do with Hollywood.

So why after their wedding and their first royal tour to Canada did William and Catherine, now Prince & Princess of Wales, travel to Los Angeles? As the newly minted president of BAFTA he had to be feted in Hollywood where he was expected to continue the tradition of British film artists, being disproportionately represented and winning at an American awards. They had to continue a relationship begun by Prince Philip in 1959 as first President of BAFTA. As a fledging awards, BAFTA desperately needed the cachet that the Oscars afford; old world Hollywood glamour, worldwide brand recognition and star power that remains unsurpassed.

From Prince Philip 1959 to 1965, the baton was passed on Prince Louis Battenberg (Earl Louis Mountbatten 1966 to 1972, Princess Anne, Princess Royal 1973 to 2001. Next up was Lord Richard Attenborough 2002 to 2010; the current BAFTA president, Prince William, Prince of Wales from 2010 to present.

So with the current BAFTA president, we get Tom Hanks sitting in the royal box at a Aston Villa game and we all know that this football team has been BAFTA president, William’s favourite team since childhood. The day after, Tom’s wife, Rita Wilson, attended the 2023 BAFTA Awards where its President, which is customary, rowed with his hawkish wife, Catherine, Princess of Wales. Another example of influence peddling, Mr. Hanks is a multiple Oscar winner, two-time Oscar winner Michael Douglas and his Welsh wife, Catherine Zeta-Jones live in an apartment at St. James’s Palace. Again, Oscar winners are favoured and you can bet that these American Oscar winners have been afforded honorary membership in members clubs like Annabel’s as part of the influence peddling as the BAFTA president hobnobs with Hollywood movers and shakers, in a bid to secure work and Oscar nominations for Britons working in Hollywood.

Well, if the angry Black male, Will Smith, is going to be censored for disrupting the Oscar telecast then Tom Hanks and the Douglas Zeta-Joneses should lose their Oscar vote for clearly engaging in influence peddling with the president of BAFTA. The Windsors are notorious for engaging in sketchy business deals, what with the now King Charles III, taking bags of cash from Saudi members of the Bin Laden family. There would also be nothing to stop William and his predecessors from engaging in accommodating Hollywood A listers for the sake of securing nominations for Britons at what is an American awards, the Oscars; of course, in keeping with all that elbow rubbing offered by royals, the Tonys, Grammys and Emmys will gladly favour British talent. It is not America’s responsibility to provide work for British actors and industry professionals. With a population five times as large as the UK’s, there is clearly a dearth of talent out there, such that America never needs to go courting or employing Britons over Americans. And that it is all about influence peddling and getting to hobnob with royals, where do you see Americans favouring Canadian talent, which relative to UK’s is considerable with a population twice as large as Canada’s should see more Canadian actors being nominated and winning Oscars all this time.

1. The Great Ziegfeld Luise Rainer, 1936 2. The Good Earth Luise Rainer, 1937 3. Gone With The Wind Vivien Leigh, 1939 4. Suspicion Joan Fontaine, 1941 5. Mrs. Miniver Greer Garson, 1942 6. To Each His Own Olivia de Havilland, 1946 7. The Heiress Olivia de Havilland, 1949 8. A Streetcar Named Desire Vivien Leigh, 1951 9. Butterfield 8 Elizabeth Taylor, 1960 10. Mary Poppins Julie Andrews, 1964

Just look at this, 20 best actress Oscars afforded British actresses for an American award.

11. Darling Julie Christie, 1965 12. Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf Elizabeth Taylor, 1966 13. The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie Maggie Smith, 1969 14. Women in Love Glenda Jackson, 1970 15. A Touch of Class Glenda Jackson, 1973 16. Driving Miss Daisy Jessica Tandy, 1989 17. Howards End Emma Thompson, 1992 18. The Queen Helen Mirren, 2006 19. The Reader Kate Winslet, 2008 20. The Favourite Olivia Colman, 2018

Naturally, with the House of Windsor involved, acquiring Oscars is infinitely easier accomplished than trying to spirit the great pyramids of Giza to London, which if it were possible, there’d likely be one at the expanded forecourt of the British Museum, one on The Regent’s Park and the other in Hyde Park. Obviously, Princess Anne’s tenure as BAFTA president likely saw her innate disdain for Yanks and general arrogance rule, which resulted in little return on investment. The same was true when Louis Mountbatten was BAFTA president. Of course, with Woody Allen, Steven Spielberg on Epstein’s flight manifests and Roman Polanski being too ‘special’ to prosecute, Old Dickie was in his element in Hollywood. Let’s face it, the IRA had nothing to do with Mountbatten’s explosive demise, born 25.6.1900 Year of the Rat, as ever numbers never lie. 7.4.5 = 7. Two 7s and a 5 alluding to sexual scandal; one or more 7s especially if one is placed in the fourth position, will indicate assassination of a public figure. In Mountbatten’s case, the poor villagers were sick of their sons being preyed on by a known paedophile and that was that.

1. Amorous Prince David, Prince of Wales & Earl Mountbatten in India. 2. David & Louis frolicking in Hawaii. 3. David & Louis playing. 4. Prince Charles, Prince of Wales & Earl Mountbatten. 5. Charles & Mountbatten. 6. Prince Charles, Prince of Wales & Jimmy Savile. 7. Gary Glitter. 8. Jimmy Savile & Gary Glitter. 9. Steven Spielberg & BAFTA President, Richard Attenborough. 10. Steven Spielberg & Harvey Weinstein. 11. Jeffrey Epstein, Prince Andrew, Duke of York, Woody Allen, Bill Clinton & Donald Trump. 12. Prince Andrew & Jeffrey Epstein. 13. Jeffrey Epstein & Donald Trump. 14. Prince Charles & Equerry Jonathan Thompson. 14 Prince Charles & Valet Michael Fawcett.

Prince Louis of Battenberg aka Earl Louis Mountbatten was human and it would certainly not have been the first time that persons associated with the House of Windsor, have had a preference for minor meat or favoured paedophiles. Sexual predators who are deemed untouchable for being of royal, Queer or Jewish persuasion rule a town called Hollywood and you can bet your bottom dollar that there is no room in their worldview for Black actresses being worthy enough for best actress Oscars. I’ll always remember going to an Upper West Side dinner party in winter 1983 whilst Merlin was in Toronto, working on Fraggle Rock with Jim Henson and talk of Hollywood came up. I was with a dancer who was transitioning to the world of fashion and design and successfully at that. Before then, he had lived for a couple of years with a famous actor in Hollywood; he hated having a sugar daddy so returned to New York. Aaron, who was great fun, died too young of AIDS but I’ll always remember his assessment of Hollywood: the world’s most exclusive escort service successfully masquerading as an entertainment business. “It is nothing more than Mecca if you are a sexual predator.” Two others at that dinner party wholeheartedly agreed with Aaron’s perception. Aaron had the thickest cock I have yet in all my years seen; thankfully, he happened to have been the most aggressive bottom yet encountered.

Indeed, what Merlin implied by not in our lifetimes, would there be a Black best actress Oscar winner, is that the Oscar is the penultimate icon of White female exclusivity and superiority. It is the most racist iconography in American culture. It is also tied to the UK Royal family in a display of American inferiority complex after having fought a war to be rid of Britons and their monarchy. Especially sobering is the fact that the very President of BAFTA, Prince William, Prince of Wales has been outed in his brother, Prince Harry’s phenomenal royal memoir, SPARE, as being the leader of the racially predatory campaign of harassment, mental, emotional and likely physical abuse, all of which was glaringly accomplished with the tacit collusion of the Fleet Street abattoirs and persons like Princess Michael of Kent who happens to be the mother of the Prince’s known closest royal friend, Lord Frederick Windsor.

Meghan, an American actress has been treated like absolute filth, yet no one in Hollywood has spoken up in her defence. Meghan’s articulateness and impeccable social skills are seen as reasons enough to resent the ‘Yank’. Moreover, Meghan is that most unacceptable of propositions not just to the British royal family but to the very core of its collective consciousness, Meghan is Black and descended of slaves of which no nation profited more mightily from the enslavement of displaced Black Africans than the British and its royal family. Of course, Hollywood does not care to get involved because the only sanctioned troubled history that is celebrated by the Academy, is the pain, struggle of Jews in Europe which resulted in the Holocaust. For that reason, it is almost an existential threat to the Academy and Hollywood’s sense of self and entitlement to ever have to acknowledge Black American history in America cinema. Indeed, Hollywood has never even done more than exploit the indigenous American population’s rape and pillage of culture and genocide of a people, because as with Black Americans, it would prove more worthy of American cinematic focus for obvious historic reasons than sectarian European history.

Anything and anyone who remotely threatens Hollywood’s sense of self and its agendum of focussing almost exclusively on the Holocaust with respect to what is deemed disturbing history and worthy of being focussed on and highlighted, is simply cancelled. Good god, look at Tom Cruise in what clearly is sectarian bias, no matter how much of a box office champ and how compelling his acting chops have been, an Oscar continues to elude him. Apart from his blockbuster actions films, all of them, what I love about Tom Cruise is how exquisitely he captures young soul angst with his acting. From Rain Man (1988), to Jerry Maguire (1996) or the exquisitely cinematic, Eyes Wide Shut (1999) the man’s a brilliant actor and no one but a young soul would so daringly do his own stunts in film after film after action film. All this deliberate denial because he is a Scientologist; just imagine if Jews were being so targeted and overlooked by the Academy but there it is in bold, unmistakable reality.

Similarly, James Cameron, a Canadian, is simply not great enough of be imbued with genius such that his towering greatness must be celebrated. In 2009, that society that serves as a paragon of racialised superior consciousness (Britain) and arrogantly so, did not award a single BAFTA to James Cameron’s 1997 film, Titanic though receiving 10 nominations. In America that year with 14 nominations, Titanic was awarded 11 Oscars. As far as Britons are concerned, it is not a British film, therefore they do not care and their grudge and disdain for ‘Yanks’ is all the more reason why Titanic was shut out of the BAFTAs. How is this even possible when there was a direct involvement with Britain with this very real and ground-breaking film? The Titanic did set sail from Britain for America; Britons were lost at sea when the Titanic sank.

Not wanting to seem like an afterthought and god forbid a third-tier awards, on taking over as BAFTA president, Richard Attenborough had the awards moved up to February, post Oscars April or May, thereby preceding the Oscars. This afforded the BAFTAs cachet as they were seen as a forerunner of how the Oscar winners would be determined. In a bid to maintain relevance and continue its role of influence peddling in an American industry, BAFTA has set up a wing in Beverly Hills and had the balls to call it the North American wing; leave Canada out of your influence peddling racket, the objective is to influence the Oscar nominations and winners. Of course, in turn Oscar winners find themselves being afforded the exclusivity of the royal treatment as with Tom Hanks at the Aston Villa game on the eve of the 2023 BAFTAs and Oscar winners Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones being allowed to live in an apartment at St. James’s Palace. So that no one should go getting ideas, she is a Briton and he, of course, is Jewish Hollywood royalty and it certainly would not be extended beyond such persons. Certainly, not when the current BAFTA president and his wife and known anti-Black racists.

Thanks to Britons’ gross sense of entitlement and flagrant superiority complex, they do not care what the world thinks. Their awards criteria and their members decide who is deserving of winning a British award and you can bet it won’t be a damn Yank. From Beyoncé being snubbed at the Grammys in favour of Harry Styles then having the Brit Awards favour Harry Styles over anyone else. This fruity little drip regardless how flagrantly he swishes his AMS (arse-munching ‘stache) and cross-dresses, above all else, he is a White male and he will not be ridiculed by radio DJs the world over. I’ll always remember my proud First Nations brief lover whilst at a pow wow in Merritt, B.C. saying, “Gay people are first and always White people… people like you and me do not count at the end of the day.” Sage words indeed. Look at this silly photo of the flagrant little industry-used manwhore, I am reminded of the swell little, ridiculously hysterical French-Canadian actor friend of Merlin’s. From the moment we met, it was evident that it was merely a matter of time before we would be carrying on like gibbons en chaleur. A friend of his had approached Merlin and asked if I would step in for him whilst he covered elsewhere for someone whose lover was severely ill and dying of AIDS. It was supposed to have lasted all of two, at the most, six weeks.

Standing in for a friend of Merlin’s, dressing on Cats at the Elgin Theatre, was a memorable experience because Jean-François and I would be sharing the same floor backstage as the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical printed money like it was going out of style. Post intermission, JF and I would have the most fun. As all theatre folk are predominantly sage souls, which he was, he was entertainingly witty and given to reciting dialogue from a range of Bette Davis films. Mostly, Lauri whose wife also did wigs and makeup was fun to be around as JF and I carried on. One Wednesday, after matinée performance, JF and I returned to the theatre off the Victoria Street tech entrance. We had just rushed down from the top of the street where it dead ends into Ryerson Polytechnic Institute, which now goes by whatever name du jour – Toronto Metropolitan University. As we returned, we were laughing hysterically which Lauri with a sly wink declared, he could well imagine what trouble we’d been up to. Truth be told, we were detained by aggressive security as JF, Toronto Dance Theatre dancer René Highway who was a lover of Merlin’s who preceded me by at least two others, actor Denis Simpson of TV’s Polka Dot Door were caught in a stall together being riotously salacious. Little did I know that as I banged on the side of the stall, “Oh fuck yeah, put your fucking tongue right there!” there was a security guard in the stall next door spying on us. His radio went off, giving away the plot and to prevent my raucous laughter, Denis began aggressively kissing me. The damage was done though, because before we could scramble out of there, the security guard’s colleague had come to join him as he braced himself against the door in an attempt to have us detained. In no mood to be messed with, I grabbed JF’s half finished Styrofoam cup of coffee and tossed it over the stall door onto the killjoy guard. Though we tried to bolt, his backup had locked us inside. Denis copped hauteur and feigning outrage, demanded to be let out at once as he had nothing to do with any of this. The cheek! Tall, imposingly debonair, just like that Denis abandoned us with René, who never said more than two words at any given time, slithering out with Denis. Merlin said of René, you have a great fuck then afterwards, there’s nothing there; simply no signs of intellect. You can bet your bottom dollar, I howled at his assessment. After too much silly cop-playing nonsense, JF and I were released and told to never set foot on the campus again… as fucking if.

Stage left alcove with Lauri close by, JF fell to his knees, doing a deadpan Bette Davis impersonation from Jezebel, “Arvin. Arvin, I’m on my knees… I’m pleading to you…” All the while he kept looking from my crotch to my face his eyes large and yearning whilst suggestively licking his lips; Lauri’s laughter in the corner almost drowned out the caterwauling coming from onstage. Next, it was my turn to be witty, removing the band that gathered my recently permed hair, my Bette Davis rebuttal came from Cabin in the Cotton as I giggled and replied, “Well, of course, I’d love to hogtie and fuck you silly but I just permed my hair… bye now.” Turning, I made towards Lauri in the alcove whose laughter was continuous and just then, JF put his hand in my hair, making it an unruly mess. With that, he took off rushing to the back and through the door onto Victoria Street with me giving spirited chase. As it was the mid-1980s the street was a darkened affair with the foreboding sight of St. Michael’s Hospital across on the east side of the street. Facing north on the west side on the street, JF squatted on the kerb and began offering his arse whilst I grabbed his hips and soon we both dissolved in laughter, working off the stress from being earlier held hostage by aggressive security up the street.

Of course, today Victoria Street is no longer a deserted affair after dark. Last year, Massey Hall at the southwest corner of Shuter and Victoria streets reopened after 190$m renovations. Of course, it is just in time for the 70th anniversary of the most phenomenal live Jazz concert recording with the famous ‘Salt Peanuts’ performance. To Massey Hall’s rear and half a block down Victoria Street is the back of the Elgin Theatre. The 60-storey Massy Tower condominiums sit on the east side of Yonge Street and two doors north of the Elgin Theatre’s marquee between Queen Street East to the south and Shuter to the north. Jean-François was devastatingly funny and vulgarly laughed at everyone and everything; he was as intimidating as he was diminutive. He favoured me as ours was a physical relationship that was purely fraternal and nothing more than robust, healthy sexual play.

A couple of years after Merlin’s passing, I was then habituated in the Beaches, one of Toronto’s more glorious neighbourhoods which, like Moore Park, is lorded over by the tallest oaks, and bordered to the south by the boardwalk, beach and Lake Ontario beyond, which proves a putrid malodorous cocktail in springtime. The Beaches’ high street is Queen Street East with its noisy 501 streetcars; I then lived just beyond the end of the Queen streetcar loop at Neville Park on the south side of Queen. To the north the Upper Beaches was the tonier part of the neighbourhood with the most commanding views of the city and lake beyond or below. I really loved living there. About that time, in 1991, I received a call with news of Jean-François. I had last seen JF a couple of months earlier as he came by and visited but we didn’t have sex; Merlin was dead of AIDS, which meant that I had unredeemably become perished fruit. Years earlier when we had just moved to Cabbagetown’s 20 Amelia Street, JF dropped by unannounced whilst we visited with chef Gary Martin who was a source of playful raucous man-loving. Having heard about me JF came calling, whilst we visited in the back garden, Merlin cock-sucking a joint, Gary sharing on it, JF lit up a cigarette and offered it as he tried charming me; grabbing his hand at the wrist, I elegantly moved the cigarette away and coolly stated fact, “Sorry, I never suck on anything less than nine and a half inches… ever.” Jean-François tossed his head back and roared and declared that he was besotted. Gary cooked yet another sublime dinner and after, Merlin continued enjoying a joint whilst onlooking at me ploughing Gary who always had to have the large mirror in the hall on the floor to look at himself being ploughed right; Jean-François leapt in and kept his faced hungrily buried between my pumping buttocks.

Luckily, in a big city, you can nicely experience a new incarnation which has positively nothing to do with your previous existence. Soon enough, lovers aplenty were de rigueur and I began exploring my true metier, the world of S&M. For Jean-François, in a bid not to become HIV-infected, he began going after barely legal youth, freshly arrived in the big city and on the make, whom he enticed with his snazzy motorcycle. So it was as JF brought home a couple of straight boys to his lovely apartment above a drugstore along Eglinton Avenue West just west of Upper Forest Hill, his couple of tricks stole his sporty motorcycle after murdering him, cutting off his cock and sticking it into the gash of his slit throat. There unsurprisingly was blood everywhere and my response on hearing the news of JF’s demise, was to have done as he would have, “Well thank god those fucking forensic guys carry a tweezer in their toolbox…” a quip at JF’s tiny, boyish cock. The laughter the friend and I roared, was a fitting tribute to JF and also the only way to have responded to such shocking news of such a violent passing… Jean-François honestly would have appreciated the humour of the situation.

So there was the BAFTA President, Prince William, Prince of Wales with his combustible wife kitted out in her ‘fist-me-now’ black opera gloves, onlooking as Cate Blanchett won best actress BAFTA for TAR, a film which frankly is much ado about fuck-all. It is about her iconic whiteness – her blondness and blue-eyed superiority which is what the Oscars are about; however, when it comes to best actress the BAFTAs afforded the royal seal of approval. Thus Michelle Yeoh sat there at Royal Festival Hall and watched Cate win best actress BAFTA and that was that. Britons do not give a damn; besides, they are royals and all that, never mind that that blasted uncouth boor will break protocol more frequently than a duck shitting, lui même Madame Plotte-Visage, the Courtesan Queen – more of that later.

1. Kerry Condon 2. Dolly De Leon 3. Carey Mulligan 4. Angela Bassett 5. Hong Chau 6. Jamie Lee Curtis

So the BAFTAs decide that this is a good enough field for best supporting actress BAFTAs 2023. Of course, Kerry Condon is not a Yank and is close to being British for being Irish and that’s that. In this pre-Oscars awards, both Angela Bassett and Jamie Lee Curtis were passed over.

1. Cate Blanchett. 2. Viola Davis 3. Michelle Yeoh 4. Danielle Deadwyler 5. Emma Thompson 6. Ana de Armas

With the Oscars, Cate Blanchett who had been favoured was defeated by Michelle Yeoh. Of course, though much was made of Angela Bassett being a sore loser to Jamie Lee Curtis for the best supporting actress Oscar, Jamie Lee won it for two reasons, she is second generation member of a Hollywood acting dynasty; more importantly, she is Jewish and in Hollywood that trumps everything else. With Michelle Yeoh’s historic win, no one dare levelled accusations that it was mere tokenism or some woke agendum.

1. Ana de Armas 2. Andrea Riseborough 3. Cate Blanchett 4. Michelle Williams 5. Michelle Yeoh

For that matter, there was no talk anywhere of Cate Blanchett having been cheated out of her rightful best actress Oscar award. Naturally, the argument is that Black actresses are just not good enough or worthy enough to be cinematically lauded. Of course, Angela Bassett, Viola Davis and Danielle Deadwyler, in the case of the latter two, they portrayed not just strong Black women but they were also historical figures. This for Hollywood is wholly unacceptable; American history simply cannot expand to cinematically include African Americans. What’s more, avoiding American history at all costs is preferable, this explains why a film like Everything, Everywhere All At Once fared so well at the Oscars, it had positively nothing to do with American history and did not in any way threaten what Hollywood deems the only history worthy of being cinematically celebrated by the Oscars. As the saying goes, in Hollywood – the land of make believe, Shoah business is the only American history worth celebrating… cartographers be damned. And unlike the unpredictability of Jesse Owens’ performance before Hitler in 1936, Hollywood does not do real-time events. Hollywood as 1968’s best actress Oscar tie validated, is about manipulating reality to serve its need and one’s heroic place within the culture: better than, special, innately entitled.

Broadway Actor, Audra McDonald

Though Hollywood would like to keep Black actresses oppressed and give the impression that they are not capable of commanding the screen and thus not deserving of Oscars for best actress, that is all challenged by the fact that Audra McDonald, is the most decorated leading actress on Broadway in its history with 6 Tony awards. Naturally, if Audra were an actress in Hollywood, she would never have been considered for any Oscar nomination above supporting actress. Hell, even Viola Davis won best supporting actress Oscar for a role which was always a lead on Broadway and won a Tony award in that category for the play adapted to film, Fences.

Halle Berry Best Actress Oscar Acceptance Speech 74th Academy Awards, 2002

Just look at how Briton, Helen Mirren looks on at Halle Berry during her best actress Oscar acceptance speech in 2002. She was clearly displeased and thought that the award ought not to have gone to some Black upstart, who was making some ridiculous ‘race’ speech or other. There, too, was that blasted little garden gnome whom we know is a favoured inner circle member at the court of the ugly-no-blasted-motherfuck Courtesan Queen, who has time and again made no effort to hide her disinterest in the otiose Persons of Colour the world over.

Maori Dancers Performing Haka at Commonwealth Service, Westminster Abbey, 2023

Just look at the way she walked past the barefooted Maori celebrants outside Westminster Abbey at the Commonwealth Day Service, 2023. It was heart-warming to see the Duchess of Edinburgh bump her left shoulder into HM King Charles III’s right shoulder and humour him as he clearly needed to be pulled away from the displeasure, he no doubt would have been experiencing for being born in the Year of the Rat and disrespected by that blasted Couchon, who has been unrelentingly wrecking the House of Windsor for near half a century. The damage ‘Ugly Duchess’ continues doing to HLM Queen Elizabeth II’s 70-year legacy, is incalculable.

Perception Is All.

The video above is of French colonials in the then French colony of Vietnam. That was in 1900, not 1900 years ago or 19,000 years ago. In less than 6 generations tribal perceptions change little. This is how the White tribe perceives non-Whites with varying degrees of scorn and animus. What most Whites have had to do, is aggressively adapt such that this primal perception of their place in the scheme of things, is deeply guarded, camouflaged and made to seem irrelevant. Of course, the power of the gun assures them that this sense of self and place in the scheme of things are little challenged.

Indeed, the House of Windsor has been possessed of this entrenched sense of self and place, in its most recent incarnation, since the reign of Queen Victoria. The two White females tossing grain and coins at the ‘natives’ in Vietnam, were contemporaries of Queen Victoria’s, whose misogynoir was emulated and upheld by Queen Mary who groomed both Queen Elizabeth, Queen Mother and HLM Queen Elizabeth II.

Queen Elizabeth II Sharing Racist Anecdote

One should not be surprised at the Queen’s 1969 documentary in which she tells a racist joke, to which Charles heartily laughed. Charles’s heir, rather than son, Peggalicious & Fisted is an avowed anti-Black racist; of course, so too is the Courtesan Queen, who has made no bones about giving no fucks about the otiose little non-White peoples.

Royal Tour 2019: St. Kitts & Nevis, St. Vincent, Grenada, St. Lucia & Barbados

The four minute mark of the above video and on their arrival in St. Vincent, Camilla carries her trusty parapluie and to make sure that she doesn’t have to shake any of the ‘natives’ hands, she carries a handbag in the free hand. This woman is a right piece of work and a true heir of the French colonials tossing grain and coins at the Vietnamese.

Just look at her! Couchon…

The infamous open ridicule of Inuit throat singers, causing Governor-General Johnston to look at her as though she were a lunatic from Mars will not soon be forgotten.

Just Look at the Old Kook; Always Looking As Though She Just Fell Off Her Broom

Her most recent I’ve-no-fucks-left-to-give moment: 2023 Commonwealth Service at Westminster Abbey. She just walked past the irrelevant persons of colour and of course compensatorilly clutched her hat as though it were Dorothy’s cabin about to take off; as if she’s not always got a broom to hand.

1. Norma Shearer 1930 2. Luise Rainer 1936 & 1937 3. Judy Holliday 1950 4. Simone Signoret 1959 5. Elizabeth Taylor 1960 & 1966 6. Barbra Streisand 1968 7. Marlee Matlin 1986 8. Helen Hunt 1997 9. Gwyneth Paltrow 10. Natalie Portman

There is much that you can glean from the line up of the best actress Oscar winners above. They are an insight into where power lies in Hollywood and one should never be mistaken about that. This power block is whom, much like the two French colonials in 1900 decide what pittance Blacks in American cinema receive. Of course, had 9/11 never occurred, there would have been no need for Halle Berry to have won best actress Oscar in 2002. This was hastily done as there was great fear that if terrorism were to become de rigueur, a guaranteed weekly affair across America, one would need to lay low and not provoke wrath from the American public at large. Of course, by the 76th Oscars two years later, there was no such threat and it has been back to the norm of Black actresses chances of winning best actress Oscar decidedly negligible.

How Like French Colonials in Vietnam, One Tosses A Best Supporting Actress to A Black Actress Now and Again

That Hollywood does not have two fucks to give what it looks like, was validated when in 1968, it was speciously alleged that there was a tie and just as with Gwyneth’s Cinderella Oscar, so too was Barbra Streisand awarded an Oscar because one can and did. Obviously, it is not a question of Black actresses not having acting chops, deserving of best actress Oscar, just as with the French colonials of 1900 Vietnam, Hollywood’s elite have long decided that Black actresses are not deserving of any such accolade; goddamn it, they are just not people enough. Goodness, that would make them more than maids, whores, junkies and dumbasses.

Hollywood as throughout human history, is just another society with its various strata and the one stratum that gets you lifetime membership at LouLou’s, Annabel’s and Maison Estelle is the one that sees you awarded best actress. In the case of best actor Oscar that’ll get you membership at Mark’s, Harry’s and Oswald’s. Alas, Black women need not dream; as Meghan has validated, Black actresses are the one group of actresses who are most undesirable whether for senior royal status or Hollywood’s ruling elite. Don’t ever fool yourself into thinking that Hollywood’s elite are a liberal bunch; they are the most vile, racist, royal sycophants on the planet – this is why Oscar winners Catherine Zeta-Jones and Michael Douglas live in an apartment at St. James’s Palace. They have wanted in, have gotten in and it’ll all culminate with Prince George marrying a nice Jewish girl – actress or otherwise. It will happen; in the meantime, they – royals and Hollywood elites – have seen to it that Meghan’s Cinderella moment could be undone and how handsomely they toiled and won. It’s a perfect business arrangement, Hollywood wants the exclusivity of royal sanction and access and for the royals and their shitty, third tier BAFTA awards, Brits get Oscars in return for preferred Hollywood elites sitting in the royal box at an Aston Villa game, living at St. James’s Palace and everything else in between, including all the minor meat they favour.

Hell, what’s all that to Harry and Meghan; they’ve got each other and are growing richer in spades with every venture they explore. Meanwhile, when the Pegged & Fisted Bourbon bastard finally gets a divorce, the inarticulate Edward Gorey silent era ingenue will draw on her coalminer pedigree and go full Jerry Springer on the House of Windsor. No Sir, Catherine will not go quietly and doe-eyed like her mother-in-law, Diana, Princess of Wales did. She will fight dirty and shake up the pantomime in ways that not even Hollywood could fathom.

Whether Emmy Awards, Grammy Awards, Oscar Awards or Tony Awards (EGOTs), American awards are about celebrating American culture with the able contribution of American actors and artisans being cited. Clearly, as demonstrated by repeated instances mentioned herein this blog, there is a clear-cut case of influence peddling on the part of the Presidents of BAFTA past and present, resulting in examples cited, be it Michael Douglas & Catherine Zeta-Jones Oscar winners living in an apartment at St. James’s Palace to fellow Oscar winner Tom Hanks, being afforded VIP access to Aston Villa matches. If indeed Armenian-Americans were the most powerful group in Hollywood, American Cinema, then there would doubtless be greater inclusivity and all American actresses being celebrated for their work. Indeed, all aspects of American culture would be celebrated in such a paradigm. As is obvious from Viola Davis winning a best supporting actress Oscar for a role which is a leading role, clearly there is a validated case of discrimination and double-standards at play.

Warriors of the High Country

Oil on Canvas

24 x 20

©2008 James Ayers

American cinema has to reflect American culture in all its pandimensionality and this is not the case. From the number of British and Jewish actresses who have won best actress Oscars relative to Black and Hispanic/Latina American, there is a definite case for legally challenging the discriminatory practices of the status quo. When is there going to be a film about the human drama that unfolded as a result of the terror attacks on 9/11? When are there going to be historically accurate films, telling the story of Indigenous Americans sacrifices and genocide. Heroic films from varying perspectives have yet to be made that dealt with the human costs of the American civil war. It is incumbent on the actors unions and others in the industry to challenge this discriminatory practice by way of legal action, ACLU, class action lawsuits, hearings in congress and legal action going all the way to the United States Supreme Court. The exclusion of Viola Davis or Danielle Deadwyler at the 95th Oscars is a clear example when they were passed over in favour of a British actress, Andrea Riseborough who appeared in a utterly dismissible film and performance about which no one knew a damn thing. Two Black actresses were passed over at the Oscar nominations for very strong roles where at the BAFTAs they were celebrated by being nominated.

If any practice is an insult to intellect, demonstrates influence peddling and proves a clear-cut case of discrimination based on race and or gender then there is no dearth of lawyers in America, who cannot take on an American actors union class action suit to address and correct so glaring an ugly case of racism in America, to say nothing of that decades long practice being an injustice. Hollywood elites do not fill movie theatres, nor for that matter do Britons seeing American films lead to blockbuster box office results… Americans do! Unlike the Festival International du Film Cannes and Toronto International Film Festival, the Academy Awards, despite tacking on international to the name, is not an international film festival. Furthermore, the Academy Awards are an American film awards and not obliged to be featuring and awarding prizes to Britons as the awards have become. If you want an Oscar then damn well choose to reincarnate an American. Period. Just as if you want to be elected American President, the onus is on you to choose to reincarnate an American born citizen. The House of Windsor has no right to be wielding influence on the Oscars or any other aspect of American society; a damn war was fought and won about being bullied and over-lorded by Britons and their royals. If this is not challenged in due course, the problem of Black actresses being passed over in favour will endure for the foreseeable decades of this century and well into the next. Of course, if Blacks protest this, Hollywood’s elites in collusion with the British royals will simply see to it that all many of non-Black non-Whites will suddenly be favoured and awarded Oscars.

Brits Are Not Played Off At An American Awards, Or Are the Academy Awards Exclusively An American Awards?

Darling, the rules are very clear; if you don’t like Black people, fuck you!

Samara Joy live in NYC [full concert] | Trinity Church Wall Street | Nov 8, 2022

Samara Joy – Vocals

Ben Paterson – Piano

Felix Moseholm – Bass

Evan Sherman – Drums

At long last, a griot of the highest order has incarnated among us; long live Black high art, Jazz!

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As ever, life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!

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©2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.

#WaroftheWaleses

The latest red carpet parade of the now Prince & Princess of Wales 3.0, (William & Catherine), Charles & Diana – The second Elizabethan Age’s original Prince and Princess of Wales, Charles & Camilla 2.0 – did not disappoint in its hissing drama. Naturally, the Fleet Street abattoirs did not surprise the sceptical in their quaint sophistry, to paint this gaudy Picasso portrait as though it were a sublime Gainsborough tableau.

As you are well aware, this hissing red carpet tango has been going on for years. Catherine can be seen brushing off William at the top of the stairs at the Royal Albert Hall as they stood with the senior royals for obligatory photo call at the premier of the James Bond film No Time To Die. Also, Catherine on joining the senior royals on the steps, could be seen cutting her eyes at William, with whom she had been earlier rowing on the red carpet. All throughout her seething animus, William kept pursing his lips as he enjoyed getting under Catherine’s skin as he is cockily assured in his relationship with Rose, Countess Rocksavage. William’s pursed lips betray the fact that though it is his wont to be loud and verbally abusive, he could not do so in public. This, of course, gives Catherine an advantage as she can grin, hiss and cuss him out at such times without him verbally assaulting her.

Again, in Boston, Catherine Makes to Hold Hands and Is Rebuffed by William.

Fast forward, post HLM Queen Elizabeth’s death and the now Prince and Princess of Wales, still at war, are in Boston. God only knows why? So lovely it was to see President Biden, meeting him on the Boston waterfront like one does a whore, then the President returned to Washington D. C. where he had been hosting French President Emmanuel Macron. Desperate to squash the truth, William again in the #WaroftheWaleses brushes off Catherine’s attempt at handholding. Now married near a dozen years, this handholding business they never engaged in. William in 2013 had an affair with a banker in the City and thereafter, they did not start handholding. Of course, with Harry and Meghan’s supernova on the royal scene, their handholding and genuine love for each other proved disruptive. Similarly, like a supernova 400 light years away, before you knew what next, the Black American woman was erased from the royal portraits as the #WaroftheWaleses turned outward and were united in cannibalising that “Yank,” that damn Black ‘bully’ American from their midst.

BAFTA Awards 2023 Red Carpet, Catherine Aggressively Replies, “Or What?”

Now fast forward to the recent BAFTA Awards, which rather extensively will be the subject of the next blog. Here’s when the hissing peaked in their usual style of continuing the #WaroftheWaleses. Catherine makes to hold hands and is again rebuffed by William. This, of course, came days after he had spent St. Valentine’s Day with Rose, Countess Rocksavage.

Just listen to that woman with female genitalia in the middle of her face, Camilla Tominey, engaging in more specious revisionism. Though there are none so blind as those who deliberately choose not to see, some of us are neither blind nor given to obsequiousness. Camilla Tominey is a known liar. Catherine tries to hold hands with William, he rebuffs as in Boston, she then immediately hits his bottom after he pulls away and conveniently waves to the little people. Betraying her energy body of 9, her being a warrior soul and one of her personal needs being power, Catherine immediately shot back, “Or What?” whilst grinning her fake-assed face off.

So then, let’s break down what is really going on here! Firstly, William and Catherine would never have gotten dressed together; therefore, on coming down when their car arrived, William would have been livid. Catherine deliberately wore black opera gloves to make a point. All Toffs know that one always wears matching opera gloves. Therefore, Catherine ought to have been wearing a black or smoky grey dress with black opera gloves. Had Catherine elected to wear white gloves with the white Alexander McQueen dress that she wore, she could not have made her point.

That’s right, Catherine was outing Peggalicious! As there is never just one hanger in any closet, Catherine in the #WaroftheWaleses upped her game. If William will not spend St. Valentine’s Day with her, she was going to take the war to the red carpet. Again, do not ever underestimate the resolve of a warrior soul when they choose to do battle; for all warriors, fighting is foreplay. Prince Henry, is also a fifth level mature soul Warrior like Catherine, and SPARE certainly does lay bare his warrior mettle through and through. Catherine and William’s rowing would be like Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt in their rivetingly combustible film, Mr. & Mrs. Smith.

As previously shared on this blog, (Pink Chair I & II) in October, 2021, https://dreampoetica.com/2021/10/24/pink-chair-i-ii/ I have been into S&M and all its play. And it was my experience that all males who are into being pegged, also go in for being fisted. That’s right, Catherine was aggressively outing William’s game. Not only is he Peggalicious but he also loves getting good and fisted. For obvious reasons, one never wears long white latex or rubber gloves in fisting. Catherine has to know that she has to go all out, because the day the Prime Minister stands in Parliament and states, “It is with regret that Buckingham Palace announces that TRH Prince and Princess of Wales are to separate, it will be open season on her. Faster than lightning striking the CN Tower, the Fleet Street abattoirs will then turn on Catherine.

In the #WaroftheRoses, Catherine broke with tradition and wore a white dress to highlight the black opera gloves, which were a nod to long, black latex or rubber fisting gloves. Catherine is shrewd and one of the interesting observations that Meghan, Duchess of Sussex made in her Oprah interview, is that Catherine is a good person. By so doing, like equally shrewd Catherine, Meghan who never once mentioned his name, was alluding to what a anti-Black racist boor, William is, which his number 9 second position (mindset) attests and which has been validated in Prince Harry’s phenomenally successful SPARE, which I’ve now thrice read.

If you are going to wear a white dress to an important function, where the Prince of Wales is president of BAFTA, you do not wear black gloves with a white dress. It is always monochromatic from head to toe. Catherine did not give a damn about being royal next to mere Hollywood and the Oscars coming up this month; if she cared, she would have worn her hair up as she did at the premier of the James Bond film, No Time To Die, in September 2021 at the Royal Albert Hall. Of course, along with the opera gloves, weaving some pearls into her beautifully coiffed hair would have carried off the look and made it truly royal. As it is, Catherine came off as nothing more than coalmining fare, playing at being a royal.

12 Years A Fail

Frankly, 12 years on, it is time she changed her armour, starting with her hair; she would be better served with a close-cropped hairdo. A dozen years on, it is too much hair and too much of the damn boring same. In the #WaroftheWaleses, Catherine is literally fighting for her man, for her life and everything that entails. Unlike both Diana, Princess of Wales and Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, Catherine is void charisma and is embarrassingly inarticulate – unlike Meghan, she will fare miserably if William were to serve her with divorce; if that were the case, I rather suspect that she will walk away with the little bastard, Damien. Honest to god, is it any wonder William is off watering Rose’s garden. Some femme au foyer that, talk about 12 years a fail. How in the hell can this woman not cook? And, of course, the Fleet Street abattoirs just laughed it off but they are keeping score and will change colour and pounce on her faster than an octopus its prey!

At the end of the day, Catherine is a woman in deep pain and with all that rowing in public, there has got to be a lot of emotional and mental abuse from both sides behind closed doors. Regardless of anything else, I will always support a woman in an abusive relationship, especially in this dynamic. No matter what, like his father before him, William will not adversely suffer, if he were to dispose of Catherine by way of divorce or god forbid worse; that is the nature of the game. Her escalated ageing can be put down to the fact that Catherine is clearly a serious drinker and also is mightily stressed about the fact that like Diana, Princess of Wales, there are three persons in her marriage. Certainly, the Courtesan Queen will be of no solace to Catherine.

Falling Apart; Clearly Fairy Tales Are Not Real

Just look at Catherine, she stumbles and what proves a fitting metaphor of their relationship, William does not react. He is long over this woman, he just wants her gone from his life. It truly is a sad state of affairs. In the meantime, we await the coronation, which every entertainer and their shadow is shunning thanks to SPARE and their loyalties to the Sussexes. Let’s see if the Courtesan Queen’s grandkids are kited with coronets and tiaras on the day whilst the Sussexes’ son, Archie, on his fourth birthday remains not styled as a prince.

Something has definitely shifted in the #WaroftheWaleses. Since Catherine’s rude brushoff in 2019, William clearly enjoys the upper hand and can care less about her. He knows that the kingdom is aware of heir marital strife; he is also keenly aware that she will never win that PR war when it arrives. Especially so if he ends up with Rose, Countess Rocksavage, Catherine will be discarded to the Fleet Street abattoirs, much as Diana was, where they will truly flay her soul. At least Diana was charming, radiant, beautiful and beloved by most everyone.

Certainly, it will be a smooth transition moving into the role of Duchess of Cornwall. Plus que ça change, plus c’est… mais oui. Honest to god, I swear there is a strap-on imprint on Rose’s gown. Look at how much happier Peggalicious looks – that just-pegged glow is undeniable. Indeed, look at how much more regally Rose oozes the royal mystique. All things aside, the no-chinned ‘model’ scores only a few points less on the all-important toddler scare-ometer than the Courtesan Queen. Clearly not breeding material, House of Windsor sidepieces are therefore not chosen for their beauty.

The latest salvo of the House of Windsor is truly myopic. As Fleet Street gleefully reports, the #TampaxKing in a fit of rage, instigated by the #CourtesanQueen has evicted the Sussexes from Frogmore Cottage. Hooray for that! At 120 rooms, the Earl & Countess of Wessex’s Bagshot Park costs then £90,000 per annum. Similarly, the kinder-lover Yorkist paedophile pays on his 30 room pile, Royal Lodge a whopping £12,000 per annum. Now get this, after having paid back the costs of renovations, and installed a £5,000 copper bathtub, the Sussexes were having to pay £216,000 per annum for the 12 room Frogmore Cottage. What more proof does one need of the House of Windsor being a racist hellhole when the otiose Black wife, the ‘Yank’ has to cough up 2.4 times as much as the Wessexes to the Crown Estate and 18 times as much as the harboured Yorkist paedophile. Let’s hope that the Sussexes rip out that damn copper bathtub and have it shipped to Montecito. Thanks for desperately seeking to score brownie points with the island kingdom’s shitty racist boors but you’ve just saved the Sussexes loads of cheddar. In all of this, you can bet your bottom shilling that the warring Waleses, in particular the pegged & fisted Bourbon bastard, was behind the drive to have the Sussexes evicted. Oh thank you dumb and blinded by racially predatory obsession your gormliness. Good, now that you’ve gotten the Sussexes evicted just Keep Calm et Va Chier!

Puerto Rican Iris Chacon Performing in Venezuela

Get it Iris! So despite the #WaroftheWaleses, life keeps on boogieing right along with Prince Harry’s SPARE performing brilliantly. At this rate, I think for being banished to Ray Mill House, the Courtesan Queen will demand titles for her Parker-Bowles offspring, whilst still nothing for Archie and Lilibet. Seriously, who the fuck are these people? There is a point at which, you cannot expect intelligent people to buy this nonsense about unconscious bias. The royals are part of a racist institution; they know it and they themselves are as well and don’t give a damn that it is fairly obvious to all with eyes to see. Well, they damn sure got rid of the Black woman in their midst; however, does this mean that their volatile marriage will adapt and the #WaroftheWaleses just become another convenient institutional partnership, like Philip and Elizabeth with each taking lovers and having children with other lovers as was the case with recently departed Philip and Elizabeth? Who knows, who truly fucking cares?

Well, if you can’t flip pancakes and can do little more than gurn like a lost, famished fox, from September 2021 to February 2023, you had better be able to shake it like Iris Chacon. No matter how you cut it, sooner or later, task companions or not, there is a very strong likelihood that this marriage which is clearly in its late stages of viability, will likely end in separation, followed by divorce.

Wayne Shorter Quartet, 2012 Paris Salle Pleyel

Wayne Shorter – Saxophones

John Patitucci – Bass

Danilo Perez – Piano

Brian Blade – Drums

Wayne Shorter, 25.8.1933 [Rooster 7.6.4 = 8] <O> 2.3.2023 Sweet and blissful dreams ennobled Shaman. Your memory ever will be a blessing of the most inspired dreams.

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As ever, life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!

_______________________________________________________________________________

©2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.

Netflix’s Masterful Crown Jewel (Season 5)

Cast of season 5 of the Crown.

Knowing when to leave is key to perfect timing. Elizabeth was a mean, grasping, manipulative – it is the hallmark of slave souls – vindictive operator. It is good that she has finally taken leave. Elizabeth acted as though the crown was hers to wear for at least a millennium.

Just look at HRH Prince Richard, Duke of Gloucester incredulously peer across at HM King Charles III with his beefy equerry sat directly behind him in the royal box; of course, there was no room for the Earl and Countess of Wessex as a result. There was sat the Duke of Gloucester who with a look telegraphed, “Well, will you look at that! He’s got his lover right here in the royal box for the world to see. What must cousin Lilibet, looking down from above, be thinking? Major Jonathan Thompson is not even in uniform but crossdressing in civilian suit. Just look at him, a mere senior footman standing in the royal box and clapping away as though he were a royal spouse… Also, pay keen attention to the Duchess of Gloucester as she keenly eyes Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales. That look betrays the tectonic state of the Waleses’ marriage. One would think that the Duchess of Gloucester is eyeing up Catherine as she cannot believe the woman would have the nerve to sit there after openly flirting with Sir Ben Ainslie and telegraphing to all the world that they are fucking their brains out.

Indeed! Though the Fleet Street abattoirs are ill-inclined to betray the ugly truths of House of Windsor, rest assured that the American media, especially American tabloid media, could not care less. Of course, they have a vested interested in the Windsor dynasty as a second American woman has recently wedded and been met with undiluted hatred and rejection. Although, that rejection is decidedly racist, nonetheless, all Americans are Americans and will defend another over any foreigner, especially so when America fought and won a war to depose that very dynasty.

Darlings I’ve simply got to start ordering teas by the hamper… The Second Carolean era just keeps on giving…

Lesley Manville as Princess Margaret in tour de force confrontation with Imelda Staunton’s Queen Elizabeth

This actor did a phenomenal job of bringing forth the true fire that was HRH Princess Margaret, Countess Snowdon’s. God, it was delicious theatre, watching her rip into her mean-spirited sister and giving it to her good when she called her on the fact that Elizabeth deliberately interfered in her life and caused her pain and ruin whilst never having done any such thing to her slutty daughter, Anne. As the Crown depicted and passingly implied, Princess Anne could have fucked Tim Lawrence in the open on a farm and no one would have noticed or reported it in the media. Her performance brings to mind that every actor who ever portrays HRH Princess Margaret must study Elizabeth Taylor in the Mike Nichols classic, “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” This is why in the earlier season of the Crown, the actor Helena Bonham Carter’s casting was wrong. She was stiff and hadn’t the passion or fire to convincingly project Margaret’s rage

The actor who played Queen Mary was perfectly placed. The scene was brief and a flashback that was of major import. Look at her, there she is dripping in pearls and finery as the Romanovs did. She gave the order for their murder and all because she waned the Romanov jewellery, coming to her. A truly vile character. Her inclusion beautifully sets up next season, which deals with Diana’s murder and this scene of Mary giving the order to have the Romanov’s murder, so she could get their jewels, establishes that no one should think otherwise when it comes to next season, Season 6, and Diana’s murder.

Romanovs Executed

The producers and creative geniuses of The Crown Season 5 did their homework and boy did they execute masterfully, beautifully. This entire episode sets up what’s to come in Season 6, Diana, Princess of Wales’s death. By laying the groundwork and showing that because HM Queen Mary’s callous avariciousness, the Romanovs would be slaughtered just so that Queen Mary, who considered the Tsarina a rival, could get her hands on the Russian royals’ jewels. Queen Mary was a vile, ruthless Victorian misogynist who, of course, was Queen Elizabeth’s chief mentor. There can be no doubt that the late Queen Elizabeth viewed Diana, Princess of Wales as much a rival as Queen Mary viewed the Tsarina. For that, like Alexandra, the Tsarina, Diana had to be murdered for proving herself a damn threat. She ruined the fairy story by not playing along; most of all, she threatened the institution by preparing to start a rival dynasty with Mohamed Al-Fayed’s son, Dodi, a non-White Muslim.

Tampax Moments Last Forever

Goodness me, whatever shall the little people think? Who damn well cares what they think? The royals do as they have always done!

Here, again, the casting of Netflix’s The Crown, season 5, is flawless. Nuanced and perfectly measured, both actors bring forth the appropriate amount of repugnant arrogance and conceited lack of awareness. Perfectly timed, as though murdered Diana’s revenge, Season 5 lays bare the adulterers’ vulgarity just as they accede the throne. King Charles III, the Tampax King with his two teddies – one inanimate from childhood, the other a virile, kilted, furry teddy that throbs and makes nights at Highgrove especially pleasurable whilst the failed future King Mother and Courtesan Queen languishes away at Ray Mill; one thing is plainly obvious, the Courtesan Queen does not crochet doilies at Ray Mill.

Having nicely set up the case for Diana, Princess of Wales having been murdered in the upcoming season 6 of the Crown, one other thing ought to be taken into account. In 1918, when Queen Elizabeth’s mentor, Queen Mary gave the order to have the Romanovs murdered, that would be signified by the planet Uranus – one dynasty overthrows or eliminates another. Uranus rules violent upheaval, revolutionary action and usually from one institution against another. As Diana, Princess of Wales was a most disruptive rebel, the only course of action left Queen Mary’s devout mentor, Queen Elizabeth II, was to eliminate the threat of Diana. Diana was about to marry a non-White Muslim and start a rival dynasty, which would have utterly eclipsed the Windsors not just at the Fleet Street abattoirs but world media.

Diana and Dodi died at Diana’s natal Pluto’s transit forming a square; that coupled with her fourth numerological signature of 7, meant very public and totally unexpected assassination. A Uranus return takes roughly 84 years, Queen Elizabeth reacted 79 years later as Queen Mary had to the threat of a rival dynasty, the Romanovs relocating to the United Kingdom – there is a five year window on either side for that Uranus return’s effect to be initialised. Closer to the exacting 84 years and Diana and Dodi would have had a wedding and begun a family that would simply have eclipsed Charles and Diana’s wedding as clearly Diana would finally have found true love. There is positively no way that the well-groomed Victorian misogynist, Queen Elizabeth II, would have tolerated any such affront to her dynasty, especially when Diana would have avenged herself by bearing step-siblings of the future supreme governor of the Church of England to a Muslim. The Windsor dynasty was violently preventing the eventualisation of a rival dynasty begun by Diana, Princess of Wales and one of an opposing faith.

Imelda Staunton as Queen Elizabeth II was sublime casting. She is pitch perfect and gets every nuanced idiosyncrasy right. As Elizabeth II is a mature slave soul, a sage soul in passion mode with emotional centring would be disastrous. Imelda may well be a slave soul herself.

Though a departure from season 5, I do feel that there needs be some commentary on the actors who played the major roles across the five seasons. Claire Foy was a major reason for the Crown’s initial success and gave The Crown the legs to become the seminal British royal family drama that it has become. She is diffident, economical and sublime. The complete opposite can be said for Olivia Colman, who is Olivia in every role she plays. She is crass, common and as conspicuously frightful and self-conscious as a damn ostrich.

As Princess Margaret’s casting is concerned, Vanessa Kirby was ravishing to look at; she had depth, emotional rawness when required and was utterly captivating to watch. Hers was a brilliant performance. Helena Bonham Carter was simply a toft playing a toft and Princess Margaret was never a toft; she was royal to the core. Clearly, Lesley Manville captures the essence of Margaret’s inner rage. Helena was supposed to have captured Margaret’s passion, debauchery and her creative brilliance and that never materialised.

As there is only one Diana, there is only one actor who has singularly, successfully captured the essence of Diana, Princess of Wales and not until Elizabeth Debicki in Season 5 of The Crown has this been achieved. Spot on, this actor’s portrayal is note perfect and as close to channelling Diana, as it were, as you can possibly hope for. Singularly focussed, she gives an award-worthy performance of rare brilliance.

Just look at this artist step aside and allow the very essence of discarnate Diana, Princess of Wales to move in and prosecute her case. This is a most brilliant performance, in a season teeming with stellar performances. There has never been a more successfully cast group of actors for any one season of this fantastic series.

I’ve a little Diana, Princess of Wales anecdote. The night of the preceding photograph in October, 1991, I was across King Street West at Simcoe Street at Roy Thomson Hall for an Emmanuel Ax recital. As I had seasons tickets to the Toronto Symphony Orchestra, I managed with plans for a hook up after the concert to attend. God only knows, I could never abide Emmanuel Ax’s too-short arms and legs as he bobs around the stool, trying to make keys and pedals. I have only ever had two favourite pianists whom I have seen live, Vladimir Horowitz and the scholarly high priest himself, Alfred Brendel (his Michael Overleaves will conclude this blog). Of course, for having met and loved Merlin, Glenn Gould has become a favourite, forming the perfect troika of inspiring classical pianists.

When the recital concluded, I made my way north along Simcoe Street to King Street West where I planned to go in search of some stimulating companionship. The placed was packed and I hadn’t a clue what was up. Finally, someone said that Princess Diana was at the Royal Alexandra Theatre, which was going to be letting out soon. Making my way west along the south side of King Street West, I stood opposite the theatre’s entrance and realised that it was no place to be. Gingerly, I made my way west along the street, made it across the intersection and began doubling back due east along the north side of King Street West. Charmingly, I bobbed and dodged my way until I was second row deep behind a diminutive Filipina, who stood behind he barricade in front of which was a conga line of persons in wheelchairs. Obviously, as this was the early 90s, cell phones were as yet ubiquitous and why I would have a camera for going to the symphony would be a gauche notion at the time. The sturdy-looking limousine pulled up and to my left, though I could not see, the doors to the theatre opened and impresario Ed Mirvish emerged with the world’s most photographed woman.

Never had I witnessed such a massive explosion of klieg fabulousness as that moment as Diana, Princess of Wales stepped away from her hosts and stepped into the marquee lights. She was tall, commanding and arrestingly beautiful. Eventually, when she made her way down the roster of wheelchair fans, she reached from time to time to the sheer pandemonium of squeals, cries, shrieks and outstretched trembling arms baring frantic trembling fingers. As nothing she said could be heard, I managed to clasp her hand, said “we love you more” as she worked the crowd like a pro. What struck me about her in that moment as the flashbulbs went off, like a million stars simultaneously going nova, was how steely, masculine, tall and warrior-like she was. In that moment, her striking blue eyes so focussed and direct, she with her statuesque singleness of devotion, was like a Maasai warrior aloft whilst dancing. Then my darlings, Diana, Princess of Wales, did the most phenomenal thing that left me teary eyed, she got to the limousine and as the passenger side rear door was opened, she got inside elongating her neck, whilst bracing her body on the car’s frame when swinging her knees together, feet together, pushing off from the metatarsals and swinging are rangy legs into the car in one of the most sublime port de bras witnessed. Well, you better believe that I was hooked to the core. Of course, to that point, she was merely the ultimate self-absorbed famous person whose motto seemed to be, “I’m a rich White girl, take my picture.”

Of course, four years later, Diana, Princess of Wales, now separated from the future, HM King Charles III, made it perfectly clear that she was in control and not the crazy wingnut that she and every artisan at some point or another will be dismissed as by the masses. Diana, Princess of Wales’s interview with Martin Bashir aired on the BBC on Guy Fawkes Night, November 5, 1995. That move will see her transcend history as someone who was infinitely more shrewd and astute than the mere mortals of her age were aware. Unlike Oliver Cromwell, Diana, Princess of Wales successfully prosecuted her case to the kingdom, the world and most importantly, history. Naturally, like Cromwell, her interview and the subsequent relationship with the Muslim Al-Fayed family would be deemed treasonous by the Victorian misogynist, Queen Elizabeth II, who just as ruthlessly and casually had her assassinated as her mentor Queen Mary had Tsarina Alexandra and her family a Uranus return earlier.

Mou Mou, the most gloriously well-written and acted episode of The Crown. At every turn, the actor who portrayed Mohamed Al-Fayed left me teary-eyed or smiling by his brilliant performance. He effortlessly captured every idiosyncrasy of the Mohamed we have come to know in the media. The actor deftly captured the essence of this endearing mensch with bravura and sublime impishness. It was the only episode that I immediately had to re-watch to both fall in love and get all the nuances that the teary fog of me had missed. Of course, there were many beautiful scenes but one which was rather telling is of The Queen sending her emissaries to have items of the Duke of Windsor’s removed from his French chateau. This shows the Victorian misogynist mentoring of Queen Elizabeth by Queen Mary – ever grasping and coveting all manner of material things. No care in the world for the Duke & Duchess of Windsor whilst he was living but the moment he passes, they are keen on the Duchess’s invitation to swoop in and claw at whatever they fancied… crass.

Indeed, in time, how could anyone possibly have expected HM The Queen, to have related to the Duke & Duchess of Sussex otherwise. She was groomed by the monstrous Victorian misogynist, HM Queen Mary to be shrewdly calculating, murderous if necessary, defender of the saturnal aspects of what being Sovereign entails. She and the rest of he senior royals could have behaved no differently to the Sussexes. Most of all, The Queen did not care to countenance any talk of racism being in any way associated with the House of Windsor. Just suck it up and get on with it, despite, the hideous open racial harassment from HRH Princess Michael of Kent, sporting the blackamoor brooch. Trust me, if she were to emboldened to go public with the racially predatory lynching of Meghan, you can bet that there was unrelenting, unfathomable racism within the royal family and the institution towards the Sussexes.

Could there have been a better cast member for this season, 5, of The Crown. This actor performed his role immaculately to the letter. The fluidity and communion of spirits between him and Mohamed Al-Fayed was successfully captured by both actors’ nuanced and elegant performances, even when Mohamed was being inelegant.

This actor, though similar in look, did not capture the essence of whom Penelope Knatchbull, Countess Mountbatten of Burma is. Above all else, with a energy body of 7, the late Prince Philip’s lover at her very core is a courtesan and would not only damn well do as she pleases but not give a damn who noticed. With a first number of 7, Penelope is almost mannish in her domineering energy body and would prove vastly intimidating for the late Queen Elizabeth II, who already had a secondary chief feature of self-deprecation which means that she would have serious self-esteem issues. Energy body of 7 and born in the year of the snake, the late Queen Elizabeth II was no match for this woman.

The role would have been better served if the actor, Gillian Anderson, who capably showed her mettle were to have been cast as Penelope. Ms. Anderson ensouled the very essence of the persona of Baroness Thatcher. A snake female, Penelope, with an energy body of 7, is the kind of customer who would take a riding crop and beat to death a mere mortal and get away with it; she would also not ever once think about the incident thereafter. All snake women possessed of an energy body of 7 are true courtesans; they are supremely amoral. Gillian would have the right steely comportment to deftly portrait the real Penelope, which may have positively nothing to do with the persona the public sees; and isn’t this almost always the case for famous persons?

Well, hold on tightly duckies, there is lots more to come. Season 6 of the Crown promises Diana’s murder. More than that, it should have flashbacks to the marriage of the Duke & Duchess of York as in penultimate seasons 7 & 8, the fallout of paedophilia allegations for associating with Jeffrey Epstein will see his cancer-stricken mother come undone. Of course, HM The Queen died aged 96; more importantly, she died 25 years after Diana, Princess of Wales’s murder. It takes 24 years for a grand Solar cycle to unfold and all self-karma, created when a karmic debt is initiated as in Diana’s murder, leads to the debtor’s self-immolation. Philip and Elizabeth slowly immolated as the avenging of Diana’s murder took its toll, Philip at exactly 24 years and Elizabeth II a year later. There are no coincidences and Time reveals all truth.

There can be no mistaking the fact that the structural racism, the case for which was made by HRH Princess Michael of Kent’s blackamoor brooch incident and Prince Harry’s memoir SPARE, nicely serve as ample source material for seasons 7 & 8. By then, all the tea with regards Catherine and Ben Ainslie, William’s Tampax moment, which has left him #PrinceofPegging to say nothing of Charles and his teddies one 70 plus years old and other other a virile furry equerry. Let’s also not forget Rose and her come-back pussy, which resulted in the then Cambridges being banished to Adelaide Cottage from Anmer Hall. Also, Camilla’s obvious racism should be highlighted by her need for a parapluie when touring the amongst the ‘darkies’ so that she doesn’t have to shake their hands, which explains why she did not go to the night time declaration of statehood in Barbados and her recent touching a Black girl’s sleeve rather than hold her hand. Then, too, there is the banishment and exodus of the Sussexes to America to successfully escape the hideous spitefulness of the next generation Waleses.

Brendel, Alfred 5/1/1931 Czech Republic

Michael: This fragment is a first level old scholar – second life thereat.  Alfred is in the perseverance mode with a goal of dominance.  A pragmatist, he is in the moving part of intellectual centre. 

Body type is Lunar/Mars /Mercury. 

Alfred’s primary chief feature is self-deprecation and the secondary stubbornness. 

The fragment Alfred is fourth-cast in first cadence, he is a member of greater cadence two.  Alfred’s entity is two, cadre five, greater cadre 6, pod 208. 

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

Alfred’s three primary needs are: exchange, communion and security. 

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

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Haiti, Josephine Baker – Cécile McLorin Salvant & Wynton Marsalis and the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra

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As ever, Life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!

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©2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.

I Remember… Plus, Dream of Queen’s Passing.

Looking Southeast from Sentinel Hill into Vancouver’s Stanley Park, West End and City.

ACT ONE

Mere days after having relocated to Vancouver on a job transfer, I bumped into Ken, very late at night at the Club Vancouver bathhouse. Our spirits purred on rekindling positive past-life associations. Of course, he wanted to know if I would like to join him at his place, his lover was there, and thus began a magical relationship with two very beautiful souls. The drive through Stanley Park lazily drifted from bucolic and then into what proved the most magical journey to the top of Sentinel Hill. There their glass-walled living area, for sitting highest on the hill, gave a commanding view of Stanley Park beyond Lion’s Gate Bridge, the West End and the rest of Vancouver. At the time, I was staying at the funky Niagara Hotel a block away on the same street as the Club Vancouver on West Pender Street.

Niagara Hotel 435 West Pender Street, Vancouver

Readily, I accepted their offer, after a night of wanton passion and exquisite pleasure. I was having very bad luck in scoring a place that I wanted. I would call up and make appointments and finally on presenting, not having sounded a thing like I looked, Black, the place had just suddenly been rented out. I wanted to live in the West End and nowhere else. Finally, Les, Ken’s remarkably handsome of spirit lover found me a place when posing as my partner and getting the place into which we would be living, chiefly myself. The things one has to do at times to get by in what is supposed to be a civilised world. In the meantime, I spent almost three weeks living with them and it was both memorable and pleasurable.

Though they wanted me to live with them and take over their basement, which was the back of the house on the slope that made it anything but a basement, I declined the offer. I had moved out to Vancouver with my art collection and had had my home in storage since months after Merlin’s passing in November, 1989. I needed to breathe, to grow, to have my own space and walk about in open capes, naked in a pair of six-inch, black patent leather stilettos whilst listening and singing along to either Jazz or opera. Though, I moved out, I spent most free weekends with them, going for long hikes in North Vancouver’s foothills, walking around the seawall in Stanley Park, making dinners together and most of all, having great threesomes to the most glorious music.

Where Ken was soft, warm and laid back, Les was though diminutive, a towering force of nature. His was laughter that I had never nor since encountered. It was truly operatic and like great music, it was possessed of positively no bile or hostility. Les’s laughter was a pure, unfiltered distillation of his beauty of spirit. Learned and fluent in multiple languages, apart from being the chief librarian at UBC, University of British Columbia, he was also of note in Vancouver’s choral societies. Always there was great music, creating the just-so magical ambiance in their divine home. Nowhere in the universe was more harmoniously zen than a dinner party at Les and Ken’s Sentinel Hill home in November, when it had been raining almost imperceptibly for the last 3 to 6 days as is often the case in autumn. At such times, there would be mist rising off the crowns of Stanley Park’s stately Sitkas as autumn set in and winter was never going to be no less than 10 degrees Celsius.

878 Gilford – Top Two Windows on Left Were My Suite

Les knew a wealth of persons and many from Vancouver’s well-heeled Gay community; they were all music lovers. On Sunday mornings, after we had been in bed a tangle of arms, tongues and legs doing what wanton sinners do best, we would go for a hike in North Vancouver’s foothills. Ken and Les always said hello to everyone encountered on their walks. This one Sunday morning, there was a very handsome, dark-haired man, taller than Ken and me, who was ruggedly handsome in spades. As it was obvious that the attraction was mutual, he leaned in and kissed me then invited himself to dinner later; nothing is ever more sexy than confidence.

1915 Haro Where Pedro & I Watched Gianni Versace Funeral Coverage on CNN, July 1997.

Pedro became a casual sexual partner; for one thing, he was legendarily hung like the famed Rubirosa if not more so and the girth on that bad boy… Lord Jesus. We saw each other whenever he happened to be in town. He had expat South Africans from Cape town, who lived on the Sunshine Coast to the west of West Vancouver whom he visited from time to time and another couple who lived in the British Properties; most definitely, that meant that I was neither invited along nor could give two fucks about being in the presence of such blasted dreck.

Sunshine Coast British Columbia

As I was then living in my own apartment in the West End, we would get together whenever he was in town and phoned wanting hot mansex as he liked calling it. His watch was the first time that I had seen a Panerai and loved it and he always smelled good; dark piercing eyes were free of guile as he forged into his late 50s with a sexual stamina foreign to most men 30 years his junior. Once after intense fucking, we talked afterwards and remarking about aspects of his colouring, I asked him how many people ever asked or even knew that he was of Black blood. According to him, no one ever had before though he shared that his maternal grandfather was light-skinned Black Brazilian with one of the many names that attest to Brazilian colourism.

British Properties West Vancouver

That grandfather had been the result of a love affair of a local doctor and the family had gone to great lengths to protect his Black heritage and it was facilitated by his having been an only child. The fact that I had broached the subject had left him always calling whenever he was in town. He also found it widely fascinating that each time that he slept over that I awoke, grabbed a tape-recorder and began bringing forth my dreams; Pedro shared that it was a gift that his mother had and was always convinced that it came from her maternal grandfather’s bloodlines.

Sting, Anna Wintour, Trudie Styler, Karl Lagerfeld, Diana, Princess of Wales & André Leon Talley.

In late July, 1997, I was packing up my West End home with days to spare before moving to Montréal. At the time, Pedro and I sat around on the floor, propped up against boxes and trucks, looking at CNN as the funeral and all the circus around Gianni Versace’s murder unfolded over a couple of weeks. Pedro was talking about how dangerous persons like Andrew Cunanan, Gianni’s murderer, were. He thought that it was bad news to not stick within a tight circle of known and trusted friends and lovers. In any event, at the time, we were watching reports of Gianni’s funeral when Pedro began speaking of Diana, Princess of Wales. According to him, she was secretly seeing a very wealthy Arab and Muslim and it was likely that they would marry. The only thing, at the time, I remember about the names that he mentioned, was Khashoggi; apparently, whoever Diana was seeing, was the nephew of Adnan Khashoggi’s and his father was an obvious billionaire. Pedro said that not only would they be married but Diana, would definitely convert to Islam and bare him children as a way to get back at the royal family. Said he, they had deliberately given her a divorce settlement that was way less than she ought to have received. He said it was because The Queen was both cheap and spiteful.

This left Diana, Princess of Wales in a position, much like Jacqueline Kennedy, Pedro stated, of having to marry for money to maintain the lifetime to which she ought to be kept, much as Jacqueline marrying Aristotle Onassis. Pedro thought that The Queen was a vile, nasty person. Then Pedro said, sadly for Diana, they will never let her get away with it and definitely not twice. When asked what he meant by twice, said he, Diana realising that Charles did not love her and was with Camilla, had an affair with the King of Spain and it resulted in her firstborn not being fathered by Charles. They will sooner kill her than have her marry a Muslim, convert to Islam and set up a rival dynasty. Diana is daring enough… but also stupid enough, said he.

Diana, Princess of Wales Funeral, 1997

Exactly a week later, after watching the funeral with Pedro in my Haro Street, West End apartment, I was on a plane flying to Montréal and almost spat out my tea when the clown behind me requested of the attendant, “de thé, s’il te plait?” The male attended curtly shot back, “du thé, Madame…” Four years later, I was returned to Vancouver, chiefly to buy Haida art, attend pow wows, see Ken and Les and of course my oldest friend, who lives in Victoria and who in an illustrious past life was the painter, Sir Anthony van Dyck. It goes without saying, there were long nights of reckless abandon spent in Stanley Park, the world’s largest bathhouse au bois, getting lewdly carnal – as I had with Pedro; many were the times I found him there, not realising that he was in town. After having made some good art purchases, I spent time with Ken: Les was away at the time of my visit. When we dined one evening as I spent three days at their new North Vancouver condo and I mentioned how strange it was that just about everything that Pedro had said about Diana, Princess of Wales a month before her passing, was eerily almost prescient.

Althorp House, August 2022

Ken told me that was because Pedro was the lovechild of a Spanish duke with a South American actress and he had also, for years, been the lover of another Spanish duke. Ken assured me if anyone would know high society gossip, it would most definitely be Pedro; also, said Ken, Pedro knows and always speaks the truth of high society goings on. Ken confirmed that Pedro had shared that Prince William was not fathered by Charles but King Juan Carlos, adding if anyone ought to know, it would be the very well-placed lover of a relative of the King’s. As we dined on a cold soup and the most exquisitely prepared salmon, Ken was a sublime cook, Ken said, ‘Of course, she was murdered. Diana, did not take her enemies as seriously as obviously they took the threat of her. Nothing will ever come of it. She was put down by The Queen and who is going to prosecute The Queen. “Precisely,” I replied. Ken, of course, I would learn from his lover, Les, when we first met was of Polish nobility and it showed in spades. Ken was not a snob but he was well-bred as West Indians say; more than that, after dinner Ken and I took to bed and he performed magic better than most. Holding his head in place, I writhed facedown in the pillow as Ken’s tongue feverishly kept pace with my twerking, pleasured arse.

Clueless. Conceited. Stubborn.

ACT TWO

Actions filmed betray the truth, every time… Just look at that blasted clueless man! There is not a sage soul who has ever incarnated, who would not have gotten into that carriage and stood there, open his chest, raise his chin and gallantly extend his gloved hand to his new bride and duchess, future Queen Consort, future King Mother then sit after she was sat. Instead, we get blissfully self-absorbed, selfish, totally unaware and conceited as all fuck, Bastard Bourbon Billy, sitting with his back to the horses, then not only does he completely ignore his new bride and sit, barely helping her in, but he keeps pushing her dress off his uniform when she was finally sat. Never once did he think to stand up and assist, welcome his wife into the carriage. And just remember, he is sixth mature, all persons living sixth mature lives are ever bereft of drama all of their own creation thanks to their self-karmic issues for one.

Just look at this woman, born with coalmining soot lining her lungs, which explains her addiction to cigarette-smoking, openly shunning a Black woman. This occurred during her first royal tour to a predominantly Black commonwealth nation, the first in her nearly twelve years of marriage. Lord only knows, it would not have happened if she and her racially predatory husband had not driven his brother and his Black wife out of the monarchy; they would have been tasked to undertake those utterly detestable tours to the wretched, overpopulated dirty people regions of the commonwealth. She recoils by flicking her hair and standing back when the Jamaican minister of sport reaches out to take her hand. She then defensively holds her hands together and actually pulls back her hands rather than take the cabinet minister’s hand. Catherine then reluctantly saves face, and still holds her fingers together, thereby allowing the forthright minister to take her left forearm. Next, she shoves her held left forearm at the cabinet minister when wrestling her arm away from the otiose, undesirable, Black thing’s sullied hand. None of this racist bigotry, as you can well imagine, was once mentioned, discussed, and afforded multiple articles by the vile British tabloid press.

Kiss-Arse Bigot

Numbers never ever lie. Catherine’s energy body is 9. She would not be her bigoted self if she had not reacted that way to the Black Jamaican cabinet minister. Protocol my arse! You do not see her behaving that way towards Jews and she certainly didn’t stand there at the Buckingham Palace garden party and hold on to her umbrella with both hands whilst grinning her disingenuous, fuck you, fake-as-all-hell smile at ‘them.’

Just look at these blasted ninny goats; how quickly they fall into line and like the media hacks in North Korea, whatever BBB (Bastard Bourbon Billy) decrees when going nuclear, they readily change tune and do as commanded. His reign will be a nasty business, scandal-saturated to the gills, what with that fourth number of 5. If that woman, who seems incapable of reading the room and sensibly taken leave with Philip, were to live to be 106 years, which is not impossible, by then Charles will have long passed without having acceded and at age 50, you can damn well bet Bastard Bourbon Billy would gladly eliminate her and justify it as revenge for his mother, Diana, Princess of Wales, having been murdered by her. It is what royals do, what royals have always done. Needless to say, the somnambulant of the island realm would never question the obvious, as most definitely they did not at Diana’s assassination; instead they audaciously claimed that Prince Philip and the MI6 were the ones who had Diana murdered and not HM The Queen.

Princess Blackamoor with the Two Black Sheep Named, Venus and Serena

Just look at them: Dan Wootton and Piers Morgan, speaking truth about Princess Michael of Kent, at the announcement of Harry and Meghan’s engagement in November, 2017, which would come to pass as she stepped out wearing the blackamoor brooch the following month, yet there was no investigation into allegations of racism within the royal family or royal households.

Princess Blackamoor in blackface (Obviously, I am no photoshop wizard)

Princess Michael of Kent wearing the blackamoor brooch is no less racist than if she had turned up that Christmas lunch at Buckingham Palace in blackface. Somehow, these fools the world over would like you to believe that there was nothing racist about the brooch and once again, Blacks are being overly sensitive and paranoid. When it pleases HM The Queen to act that she does, as when she tore her arse in the kingdom’s face and insisted that her lovechild, Andrew, escort her into Westminster Abbey at the service of thanksgiving for the life of the Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh.

So in a bid to kill the hot rumour of Billy going next-door for the real honey pot, the same blasted media sycophants who sang Meghan’s praises on the announcement of the engagement in 2017, Dan Wootton and Piers Morgan and others, course-corrected and were let loose on Meghan, Princess Henry of Wales by none other than William with the tacit agreement of HM The Queen. Naturally, The Queen would go along with the media smear of Meghan, Duchess of Sussex as all Sovereigns are above reproach and should never ever be sullied by British tabloid media; besides, HM The Queen had her own reasons.

Well off to the pound with you, BBB (Bastard Bourbon Billy) for raiding the Savage Rock chick inn. And wouldn’t you know it, just like his Bourbon father, Billy goes off and breeds with another man’s wife. That precisely is why he has been made to relocate to Adelaide ‘Dog Pound’ Cottage with only one of his two daughters in tow. Some consolation that; Bastard Bourbon Billy was not allowed to ditch the family embarrassment, Damien, for the Bastard Princess of Norfolk.

Look At Risible Control Freak, Bastard Bourbon Billy Getting Pussy-whipped by Ben Ainslie’s Lover.

Who pray tell the fuck are you, to go pulling away from the hand of the Jamaican Minister of Sport and you think there is nothing for it? Soot-lunged arriviste! At the end of the day, we all shit and piss and crawl into a casket, by whatever means ours or someone’s doing. That said, you don’t like Black please, please go lie your tired arse on a beach somewhere in the Sun, get cancer and crawl the fuck in your casket. Ever, I will be most fuck-all indefatigable in my support and defence of Meghan, Duchess of Sussex and her family: Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex, Archie Harrison, Lilibet-Diana and Doria Ragland.

Not that she could give a rat’s arse, for there she was for all the world to see, being Big Ben Ainslie’s yacht girl. Whether being a goddamn bigot with the Jamaican minister of sport or openly flirting with the knighted yachtsman, she knows damn well that just like with Meghan, she will never be held to task for her conduct. After all, Meghan has been reduced to the most ridiculed, reviled, hated fugitive from justice for having had the temerity for marrying Diana, Princess of Wales’ son. To illuminate Meghan, Duchess of Sussex’s words as she articulated during her interview with Orpah: if you love Catherine, you don’t have to hate me and if you love me, you don’t have to hate her. Well, sadly, that is not how the White tribe’s collective psyche works. There always must be a threat to defend oneself against and there is always an evil in the world, which never ever could be oneself, regardless what the empirical evidence indicates.

Diana, Princess of Wales Adorned In the Spencer Tiara

To paraphrase Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, if you love Diana, Princess of Wales, you don’t have to hate William and Catherine; conversely, if you truly love Diana, Princess of Wales, you don’t have to hate Harry and Meghan. 

Please Standby, The Palace Diaries Are Yet to Be Published

Meghan has now emerged as the most reviled, hated and lied about woman in human history. The fact that she is Black is no coincidence and certainly, the fact that she had the audacity to call Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge a liar on Oprah, along with all her other enablers, was the declaration of war. Thus far, myopic British media have no awareness that their reach is not total in America and at the end of the day, when Meghan does speak her truth, very few Americans are going to want to countenance a royal family and Britons whom they damn well dispensed with 246 years ago.

Henry, Duke of Sussex

Every day, there is another story, in which these venal arse-wipes… every single last one of them, go on bleating on and on about Meghan, telling every lie imaginable and inciting anti-Black racism, go on and on and blasted motherfucking on, making a liar, failure, clown of both Meghan and Harry. Fuck every last one of you. The easiest thing to do on this planet, is to tell a lie on someone Black. As ever, one will be believed and there will most certainly never be any repercussions for doing so. If there was ever a single possibility of finding oneself “Nick Berged/Rushdied,” every one of these snake-bellied bigots would never once move their hideous lizard lips to say a single word against Meghan… and Harry.

Honest to fucking god, what is little flat-arsed, soot-lunged, adulterer going to say that she is not racist and she never made Meghan cry? Yeah, right… just like she never refused to shake hands with some blasted bipedal simian bitch in Jamaica. Sooner or later, every dog will not only lick itself but will also eat its vomit and never ever, should you be either shocked or surprised by that. It is in the nature of dogs to do so, just as it is in the nature of far too many Whites to hate, lie and vilify Blacks for positively no fucking reason. Of course, they will ever say they have nothing to do with slavery and may even glibly apologise in their best insincere “fuck you, get over it” banter as when William did just that in Jamaica and again at the unveiling of the Windrush sculpture at Waterloo Station. It means absolutely nothing when you know that this is the same dolt who had the temerity to protest, the day after the Oprah interview aired, claiming, “We are very much not a racist family.” Seriously, were it not for the subjugation of Chinese and Indians and the gross enslavement of Black Africans, Britons today would be no better off that miserably poor-as-fuck Albanians.

Archetypes: A Happenin’ Joint on Spotify.

A strong woman walks and does more than survive, she damn-well thrives. Most definitely, she does not keep breeding, to keep an adulterous man and thereby end up with superfreak numero un, Damien, that’s who. That’s right, Karma does not lie. You no more want to be near the ailing Queen by moving to Adelaide Cottage, than does The Queen want your fake arse anywhere near her. You are both equally treacherous and despise each other in equal measure, the world has long seen this and even before Meghan appeared on the scene.

As that blasted island kingdom is clearly overrun by semi-feral hyenas en chaleur, it has long become evident to anyone not obsequiously rimming the royals’ collective arse that the predators have moved from fox hunting to nigger hunting with fever-pitched intensity; when is being racially predatory not sport for Whites who choose to be so focussed and engaged? Everyone of these pretentious boors are ever ready to gnarl and bark at Meghan. Just look at that god fugly oxygen thief, talking shit about why give them (Meghan and Harry) oxygen? How about you crawl the fuck in your casket. People talk and all she ever was for many a Hollywood moon, was just another casting couch whore. Don’t recall her having received an Oscar. She has been more jizzed on than a urinal cake in Penn Station during cruisy evening rush hour. Let’s make it perfectly fucking clear, any jackass and his shadow is ever ready to openly hate Blacks, please know that we are not all prepared to sit by idly and suffer your hideous arse or bullshit. If for a nanosecond people do not think that this constant open animus against Meghan, Duchess of Sussex is not racially motivated and, more importantly, that it does not affect the lives of Blacks going about their daily business, you are truly not focussed in this reality. Rimming Warren Beatty like a drunken manwhore at a bathhouse and where pray tell the fuck were you in Shampoo or Heaven Can Wait That’s right, just another cumrag at a Hollywood circle jerk. All that pouting and vamping for just as many decades as Liz and it never got you a blasted Oscar. Just like Princess Blackamoor, both raising your rabid rear right leg and whizzing par-fucking-tout. Please just stop with the BS about Diana told you when exiting Harry’s Bar that she just had lunch with the most boring king in Europe; either you know bugger all or it was another attempt at throwing shade. Either way, what does it matter, your you-know-what smells like a crate of rotten oranges and your shadow is beyond bored, having to suffer you being a fugitive from your casket 1.5 decades and counting. Go on, take a clue from Lilibet, stop stealing oxygen and crawl the fuck in your casket. Not a single goddamn acting award because there are no awards for casting couch whores and a damn Golden Globe has as much cache as a frigging BAFTA.

Sharon Osborne – The Talk

This woman got her arse booted from an American talk-show where all she ever did was cuss off Meghan in her typically racially predatory, poseur Toff British bully persona. Just won’t do. For one, one of her co-hosts was Julie Chen Moonvez, whose husband, Les Moonvez was the CEO of CBS. These things matter and the whole culture of Americans associated with showbiz, though both Moonvez were no longer associated with the show and network by the time of Osborne’s departure, it still had an impact. The fact is, Sharon and Ozzy became social pariahs as Americans simply have no countenance for Britons playing holier than thou and treating Americans like crap.

Yet another displaced otiose Briton, Cara Delevingne squatting in America as though either welcome and doing nothing more than taking jobs from Americans. Just look at this blasted crack whore and you can bet your bottom dollar for not being Black, she has managed never to have had a run in with the local constabulary.

HM Queen Elizabeth II 21.4.1926 Tiger 08.9.2022

ACT THREE

I began writing this blog as the 25th anniversary of Diana, Princess of Wales assassination approached and because it had me revisit that time leading up to her death, when I was relocating from Vancouver to Montréal in late July, 1997. I also wanted to address the unrelenting, racially predatory hunt of Meghan from all quarters and watching Vanessa Feltz that smug sow, who seems so pleased as muddied swine that she was getting Black cock that she just couldn’t help turning her racial hatred in Meghan’s direction. First of all, no honey, fucking a nigger makes you a goddamn nigger; in case you’ve not noticed niggers and Blacks have nothing in common but what would you know? As if? There is not enough money on this planet to pay a Black man to piss on you… blasted sow. Thankfully, Holly Willoughby took her to task as she sat her fat, flat arse all over Meghan’s name. Her mea culpa of sorts occurred days later as she broke into the most transparent display of crocodile tears as she announced on-air the passing of HM The Queen. Nigger please! The other trigger was that washed up casting cough whore spewing off; how ungrateful are this ever burgeoning ghetto of Brits in Hollywood that one then has to be reminded of their stinking racial animus towards Blacks when the casket fugitive mouths off.

https://dreampoetica.com/2022/08/01/tea-time/

Here’s is the link to a dream of HM The Queen’s passing on the eve of HM King Charles III’s birthday in 2021. With The Queen’s passing, especially so after HM King Charles III’s speech to the kingdom, you could sense that there was a deep vibrational shift begun within the realm.

With The Queen’s long overdue departure, things can now open up and with Catherine and William now becoming Prince and Princess of Wales, they don’t need any longer to feel the gross insecurity and prejudice that saw them run to the Fleet Street abattoirs and have Meghan slaughtered at the tabloid altars. Some strange white voodoo that… but it damn well works that’s for frigging sure.

The Grand Canal With Santa Maria della Salute Looking East Towards the Bacino

Oil on Canvas

50 x 80

1744 Canaletto

Provenance: Royal Collection Trust, St. James’s Palace

Will you just get a load of that Canaletto in St. James’s Palace throne room? Phenomenal!

HM King Charles III First Speech on Death of HM The Queen

As HM King Charles III made it clear, Harry and Meghan are focussed overseas. So please by all means, now that you are Prince and Princess of Wales with just as fractious a marriage as Charles and Diana’s were, please do shine and show the world what megastars you are as you are, after all, royal rather than celebrities. Get out there and show the world your uneclipsed love; maturing into expected titles is not a sign of a successful marriage. William will always cheat and as Diana and her adultery were outed in a get-back by Charles, don’t expect Catherine’s whoring with Ben to be touched with a titanium javelin anytime soon. That’s the really sad part because thanks to the iron-fisted reign of Elizabeth over the family rather than firm, Windsor men sadly are all castrati in varying degrees.

I do believe that had HM The Queen exited the stage long ago, likely before Meghan’s arrival on the scene, ‘Megxit’ would have turned out differently or simply not have eventualised. As it is, yet again, here was another example of The Queen turning her back and not giving a damn, stubbornly she even dug in her heels as if to protest the claim of racism against Princess Michael of Kent by deliberately having her attend the Sussexes wedding and this after having Angela Kelly, snubbing Meghan for a tiara fitting. Then on their return to court for the Jubilee celebrations, Princess Blackamoor was sat close to the former Prince and Princess of Wales (Charles & Camilla) and the current Prince and Princess of Wales, (William and Catherine). Go on, go run up and down the planet, grinning your best “fuck you, die” smile with HM King Charles III, serving as new peace envoy.

As the seating at St. Paul’s Cathedral during the Platinum Jubilee revealed, it was all about HM The Queen’s stubbornness. She saw nothing wrong in what HRH Princess Michael of Kent did in wearing the blackamoor brooch to her Christmas lunch in December, 2017. As far as The Queen saw it, Meghan was offensively ungrateful. £35m spent on the Sussexes’ wedding and an expectation of conducting the overseas commonwealth tours that the then Cambridges had no desire of undertaking. Look at Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales in the preceding video. She turns around, sees where the Sussexes are sat and says wow, which was a comment on the stern impertinence of HM The Queen.

Duke & Duchess of Sussex with Oprah Winfrey

Do not ever underestimate the power of Meghan, Duchess of Sussex and her astute awareness of her power. Her appearance on Oprah was all strategy. Meghan plays the long game. When she mentioned the threat of the slimmed down monarchy and Archie and Lilibet not being afforded their HRH status when The Queen passes and the Prince of Wales becomes HM King Charles III, it was an implicit threat. Meghan at any time has the right and can and will reveal what really went down that precipitated their departure and this the monarchy fears more than anything else. As long as the tabloid media keep braying and vilifying her and Harry, only steels her resolves.

HRH Prince Archie of Sussex, Harry, Duke of Sussex & Meghan, Duchess of Sussex

Meghan had to mention that as it was a threat to the family and Sovereign. If HM The Queen were to pass after Charles, which has not transpired, Meghan was making it clear that she fully expected William would never afford her children this honour. Also, should Charles survive his mother, there was no way that he would want the devastation of Meghan going nuclear with her truth and not the lies proffered by the media on the HM The Queen and Cambridges’ behalf. Well, Charles is king and her children are now HRH Prince Archie of Sussex and HRH Princess Lilibet Diana of Sussex, the first royal princess of the UK born in America.

News9 Australia Camilla Tominey Waleses & Sussexes ‘Mind Completely Blown!’

So just as I was wrapping up this blog as it is well into September, the car pulled up at the Cambridge Gates at Windsor Castle and out stepped TRH Prince & Princess of Wales accompanied by TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex. Naturally, Camilla Tominey who broke the story back in November, 2018 of Meghan having made Catherine cry, which began the white-hot opening of Nigger hunting season, was called on by News 9, Australia to comment on the Wales, Sussex Windsor Castle, long walk walkabout.

HM The Queen has died and now a new era, a course correction is begun.

I rather love this commentary by ITV’s Chris Ship and company. They have always been deferential and professional in their coverage of the Sussexes.

At the end of the day, this reunion and public display of entente cordiale could not have occurred whilst HM The Queen lived because she was damn set on avenging herself of Meghan, whom she perceived as truly ungrateful. Meghan took a stance and was right to have done so. There is positively no way that royal householders were not being racially predatory towards Meghan as Princess Blackamoor gave them license to be openly racist towards Meghan. Fact of the matter is, when you have wronged someone, it bears heavily on your conscience and it is never the wronged person who makes an overture seeking resolution and restitution of your integrity, which had been violated. William texted Harry because William and his team fed the Sussexes to the Fleet Street abattoirs to protect the former Cambridges’ marital scandals. It was a betrayal and has mightily upset Harry as much as it has because he was wronged. She is an American. She is Black and they will all of them, household staffers, be rude towards here. Even Angela Kelly was in no way reprimanded by HM The Queen when she did not show for a tiara fitting with Meghan during build-up to royal wedding in May, 2018.

HM The Queen tells off HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge, December, 2020

This is HM The Queen rudely dismissing the then Duke & Duchess of Cambridge because she damn well felt like it. Obviously, neither the then, HRH Prince Charles, Prince of Wales could have acted as they wished, along with the then Duke & Duchess of Cambridge, with regards to the Sussexes, as long as The Queen was being punishingly cruel towards the Sussexes. I always thought it odd how, despite outward appearances both Harry & Meghan spoke rather highly of The Queen. Whatever HM The Queen was during her prime, at the time of Meghan’s marriage into the family/firm, The Queen was older, stubborn and likely already sick with bone cancer as has been disclosed on her passing. And please don’t blame Meghan for fuck-all anything. When The Queen turned 90 in 2016, she suddenly developed a large sore on one of her shins; it was a going concern for just about everyone. That clearly was an early sign of her cancer, which was long before Meghan appeared on the scene.

Queen Elizabeth II Oil on Canvas 9.5 x 6.0 Inc Lucian Freud ©2001

This Lucian Freud oil on canvas perfectly encapsulates HM The Queen. All the world’s a stage and the longer you stay onstage without properly reading the room, you soon turn Icarus and lose altitude. Soon or later, if you stay too long in any game, you end up looking like Wayne Newton and just as clueless. Old, grasping and cancerous, Elizabeth was less patient to keep up the façade of the sweet, little old lady with the heart of gold – I never bought it. Nonetheless, when you are damn cheap as all hell, look what pittance Diana, Princess of Wales was afforded in her divorce settlement, you are going to be really pissed when you spend £35m on a goddamn bride only to have her runaway within two years. Indeed, you are going to be pretty damn pissed, and feed her to the Fleet Street abattoirs, you damn well will. Truth be told, in the parlance of the deposed, buffoon Semite, Meghan proved the most expensive prize paid for a slave, who then turned around and ran away in under two years. Goddamn it, that kind of money, Elizabeth can justify spending on the gee-gees but damn well not a bloody slave. Meghan was bought to work the Pickaninny circuit of the predominantly Black commonwealth nations – heaven only knows the 9-centric former Cambridges now Waleses were intent on doing no such thing.

Viscount Severn, The Duke of Sussex, Major Jonathan Thompson, The Duchess of Sussex & The Duke of Gloucester.

The Queen racked with cancer then showed her hand by having Princess Blackamoor sat close to Charles & Camilla, William & Catherine and ahead of the former Wessexes now Duke & Duchess of Edinburgh. Indeed, there were the Duke & Duchess of Sussex sat directly ahead of Major Jonathan Thompson, The Queen’s equerry as spy or whatever, who temptingly kilted is now HM King Charles’s equerry – oh what savoury tea this. Just look at the racial predatory hyena in the blue pillbox hat, ain’t nothing like the height of Nigger hunting season… vraiment.

Meghan So Desperately Needed That Hug, Just Look At Her Hands Holding On
Love Heals All Wounds… Amelka Hugs Meghan, Duchess of Sussex Soothing Her Soul

Not only were the Sussexes booed at St. Paul’s Cathedral in June, 2022 but it was tough watching Meghan being denied by the locals along the long walk at Windsor Castle on September 10, 2022; they refused to either acknowledge her or shake her hand. Then the most incredible thing occurred, Amelka asked Meghan for a hug and stated after to media that she wanted the Duchess to know that she was welcome in the United Kingdom.

Duke & Duchess of Sussex’s parting so long to his Commander-in-Chief.

Lightness of Being Photo Lithography 45.25 x 44.7 Inc ©2007 Chris Levine

Well Darling Elizabeth, look at that, you proved human after all and crawl into your casket you most damn well have. Well, guess what, you already conceded defeat by the spiteful seating and walk of shame at St. Paul’s Cathedral at the Platinum Jubilee thanksgiving service, which cancer and or cowardice had you miss out on, as Harry and Meghan were sat as they were and that was that… all that over £35m. Of well, guess what, Meghan won and will be sat at Westminster Abbey, on Monday, September 19, 2022, alive and thriving.

Come On Everybody, Time to Shake Your Tuchas!

Well, you fail to adapt and move with the times and before you know it, audience admiration fast turns to ridicule. No! It was not just a damn brooch, for crying out loud, it was a racist attack. To have done nothing, was to have condoned both Princess Blackamoor’s actions and that of the royal householders. Where was the investigation into racism from minor royals and royal household staffers? As is obvious, Rihanna was not amused by the blackamoor scandal and the way it was unsatisfactorily addressed and just like that, you, Elizabeth were removed as constitutional monarch of Barbados. Indeed, you were not the only Queen.

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Gerald Clayton in Concert July, 2021

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As ever, life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!

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©2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.

Utterly Beautiful… Frame.

TRH Duke & Duchess of Cambridge

Simply stunning; the hue of the wood suggests an agedness as though it were centuries old; rather than the expectant lustre of bright gold, the subdued golden hue alludes to the agedness of the British monarchy which is in its second millennium. So then, the beauty of this portrait, the frame; now to everything else.

Princes Harry & William at Unveiling of Diana, Princess of Wales Statue, July, 2021

This photograph deftly betrays both princes’ true posture. Harry a fifth level mature warrior – same soul age and soul type as Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge – is always going to be proud in stature and not given to slouching. William a sixth mature scholar soul and task companion of his wife, Catherine, slouches, partly for towering over most persons at 6.3 feet tall. However, William has hyper-extended knees and as such, his body naturally counterbalances that stance by bearing his head and chest forward and in a concave manner rather than not. Though evocative of regal portraits from times past, in Jamie Coreth’s painting, that posture simply is not innate to HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge.

Admiral Viscount Horatio Nelson, Alexander Hamilton, 1st Duke of Wellington, HM King Charles I, HM King George III, HM King George IV, Napoleon Bonaparte & SM Roi Louis XIV.

All these portraits depict the historic figures standing, weight on one leg with the other leg’s foot forward and turned out. It is a commanding position. Of all historical portraits HM King Charles I’s is my favourite, partly because his death was so comically tragic. More than that, Charles I’s swagger and pride remains unparalleled. I am also partial simply because those magical eyes and goatee of HM King Charles I’s are not dissimilar to Merlin, my task companion’s, look during his most recent past life.

Prince William is made to affect this posture; however, it is obviously foreign to his persona. He has a goal of acceptance which is the great goal and such people are always warm and open; however, with a second number of 9, mindset, he is anything but warm. He has unequivocally demonstrated that he is archly bigoted and a rude dismissive snob. To make matters worse, his wife, who happens to be his task companion, also has 9 but in the first/energy body position. Both persons have primary chief features of stubbornness and secondary of arrogance. Stubbornness would most definitely mitigate his being open to anyone when he was born and groomed to be the ultimate snob. Furthermore, persons with a primary chief feature of stubbornness are persistently shit-disturbing, obstreperous and infuriatingly difficult.

Catherine’s resting face as ever is no oil painting. Catherine is possessed of an energy body of 9 and such persons, especially so when born female, are toxic in the extreme. They are also bitingly sarcastic, difficult and unrelentingly unpleasant socially. As a mature warrior soul in perseverance mode with a chief feature of stubbornness, you could not find a bigger shit-disturber and conceited bully. Couple all that with having to be wedded to an equally difficult mature soul and both equally insecure, Meghan, self-made and vastly more intelligent and articulate plus unacceptably of Black blood, did not stand a chance with these two.

This masterful oil on canvas, Paul Emsley, which permanently hangs at the National Portrait Gallery, perfectly captures the essence of who Catherine is; it is full of nuance and dark undercurrents, which readily betray the complexity of spirit that she and every mature soul know during the course of each lifetime. One of the lessons of the mature soul cycle, is having to learn pretty tough life lessons for being spiritually stagnant. The accompanying photograph, taken whilst on royal tour in the Bahamas, March 2022, captures the woman’s true nature. In the case of Catherine, and William, they have been gifted with Prince Louis. As everything is choice; they could have chosen not to have a third child and a third child could have been born to them without obvious mental/emotional issues if during gestation, Catherine was not engaged in such racially toxic behaviour towards the Sussexes. It does the Cambridges no favours that everyone in the kingdom has painted the drama surrounding the Sussexes as though it were completely one-sided and that the Cambridges were not at the very heart of the rift; regardless, how this is all made to seem a one-sided affair, it does still take two hands to clap. Not only is the Cambridges’ conceit encouraged but their glaring stupidity has been exposed, regardless how the British media and society blindly choose to act as though the Cambridges are in no way culpable for or play any part in the affair, at its heart centre this whole mess is all about racism. Since it is too damaging for the Cambridges, just let the Sussexes fuck off and stay gone as this is the only only way to save, in due course, the Cambridges’ reign.

No matter how much these two row in public, which is increasingly ubiquitous, British media simply pretend as though it does not exist. In point of fact, the Sussexes have largely been used as a smokescreen to deflect attention off the Cambridges’ very turbulent marriage. No matter what, at least for now, the Cambridges cannot be seen as anything other than a loving couple, adored throughout the kingdom.

BBC’s A Berry Royal Christmas, 2019

This whole affair has brought to sharp focus how the White tribe simply fabricate reality as they would have it. These past few weeks of watching CNN’s coverage of the January 6th commission hearings on Capitol Hill, the Trumpian perspective is a poignant exposé into the White tribe’s collective psyche. One boldly tells a lie and for repeating it loudly and long enough, it becomes fact. Thriving almost exclusively on negativity, that vile liar, President Trump, was been able to incite an insurrection and for merely being a moneyed White male, he has not only been believed but he has commanded fierce, blindly unwavering loyalty. Though he is as guilty as sin, the Democrats are utterly paralysed with fear to arrest, charge, prosecute and imprison a President who for the first time in over 250 years attempted a coup d’état. Trump epitomises the White tribe’s zeitgeist: at all costs, we win, we are always right and no one gets to be perceived as being better than us; more importantly, we can never be perceived as either being wrong or having failed.

What I love about this masterful portrait, is how cleverly the artist makes a reference to King Juan Carlos, the Bourbon King of Spain, as the nose is decidedly neither the Spencer nor the Windsor nose. As the saying goes, when you know, you know.

HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge by Dan Llywelyn Hall

This succinct painting is of a gormless-looking Prince William by Welsh artist, Dan Llywelyn Hall, in which the painter masterfully captures the essence of William’s persona. William is neither the swiftest of souls nor the most emotionally august. From his open ridicule of Black culture at the Sussexes’ wedding to sanctioning the recent seating arrangement at St. Paul’s Cathedral during HM The Queen’s platinum jubilee, neither he nor his wife can claim ignorance of racism within the royal family. They are at the very heart of the racist campaign against the Sussexes; nevertheless, within the kingdom and beyond its shores, the golden royal couple are universally deemed a paragon of superior, racially pure virtuousness in a land where the royal propaganda is not dissimilar to the blinding sycophancy afforded North Korean leaders.

In the couple’s 40th birthday portrait, they are seen to be closing ranks, as well they have. More importantly, they are neither looking at each other nor are they smiling as they are deeds done between them and against the Sussexes, for which they would rather remain mum. The Cambridges or for that matter their propagandists do not have the ability to whitewash the truth neither indefinitely nor beyond their kingdom’s shores. True love as alluded in the recent photographic portrait of the Cambridges does not bear tarnished fruit as is obvious with their third-born, Prince Damien. There is a direct result between the Sussexes’ treatment as a consequence of the Cambridges’ machinations and Prince Louis being the damaged goods that he is.

Charles Mingus Sextet Concert Rehearsal Stockholm, 1964

Charles Mingus / Bass

Eric Dolphy / Alto Saxophone, Bass Clarinet

Dannie Richmond / Drums

Jaki Byard / Piano

Johnny Coles / Trumpet

Clifford Jordan / Tenor Saxophone

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As ever, life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!

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©2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.

The Only Way Out!

‘Keep My Wife’s Name Out Your Fucking Mouth!’ Will Smith at 94th Academy Awards, 27.3.2022 Year of the Tiger 9.3.9 = 3.

Will Smith 25/9/1968 Monkey 7.7.4 = 9

Will’s enjoyed the most fabulous worldwide popularity and transcended that all important barrier of RACE, which is no small feat in this world. Of course, his double 7s would be instrumental in that potent charismatic image. Double 7s like that of HM The Queen assures great favour with the public.

Will Smith and son, Jaden Smith on the Graham Norton Show in 2013; this was the height of his career and he is (was) a billion-dollar box office Hollywood megastar. Love Heather Graham’s dancing whilst sat on the sofa. What is really telling is that fellow Philly actor/star Bradley Cooper went onstage 9 years later, 2022’s Oscars, to reason with Will Smith as he committed what could very likely prove career suicide. Let’s be real, Alec Baldwin pulled a gun on a cinematographer who could not have been a fellow actor rehearsing a scene with him, he pulled the trigger and she lost her life, yet there has been no uproar as with what occurred at the Oscars on March 27, which was a 9 day to be sure.

Bradley Cooper 5.1.1975 Tiger 5.6.1 = 3

From an appearance on the Graham Norton Show to 9 years later, having witnessed what could prove the death of Will’s career. Though he is a box office champ, it may yet prove a case of art imitating life as per the 2006 film, The Pursuit of Happyness in which Will starred and for which he was Oscar-nominated in the best actor category. That 6 in Bradley’s numerology is why he immediately rushed to the senior star’s aid. Who knows what past-life connections they share.

Denzel Washington 28.12.1954 Horse 1. 4. 5 = 1

Two 1s, Denzel is solid and he is doing his best to save the optics of this disaster before the eyes of the Academy and the world. No matter how you cut it, Denzel is now the elder Black statesman in the Academy with Sidney Poitier’s recent passing. He had to intervene and it is obvious that Denzel is infinitely wiser and more shrewd than Will; he knows what’s going on.

Tyler Perry 13.9.1969 Rooster 4.4.2 = 1

Tyler Perry, like Denzel, has 1 in his numerology; he is a leader and stabilising. More than that, those two 4s validate his being self-made. At the end of the day, just like Denzel Washington, he knew the optics of Will going off before the world and blowing up, sabotaging his image… to say nothing of his career. At the end of the day, it was compassionate Black men, who know what he is going through and have likely been there and it was rather commendable of them to have intervene.

More than that, it was also truly noble of Bradley Cooper to stepped in. Of course, Tyler was there for Will because it was to reassure him that if the wheels were to fall off the cart of his crossover appeal, there would always be a place for him to explore his acting career with Tyler Perry at his studios and production company.

Whoopi Goldberg 13.11.1955 Sheep 4.6.8 = 9

Whoopi’s got clout in the Academy so it really doesn’t matter what those grasping fools who seem to think that the Academy Awards are an Anglo-American awards think; it is not. It is strictly an American award and not a film festival, which features international cinema. These same people were calling for her to lose her job on The View now wanting her and the Academy to strip Will Smith of his best actor Oscar.

Benedict Cumberbatch 19.7.1976 Dragon 1.8.4 = 4

Naturally, the greedy schmucks from the isle of rabid, racist boors were chomping at the bit, thinking that in the event that Will were stripped of his best actor Oscar then that odd-looking expressionless android, Benedict Cumberbactch, would be awarded for also having been nominated for best actor. What are these idiots on? They seem not to realise that there is no way that he would have garnered more votes than Denzel Washington, who was also nominated in the same category.

Ricky Gervais 25.6.1961 Ox 7.4.3 = 3

Naturally, desperate to takeover the Oscars hosting gig, along comes that greasy little leprechaun from the isle of racist swine, trying to sway opinion. As you can see, thanks to your ugly collective visage having been revealed, the Oprah Interview has served to put your kind on notice. Americans are second to none and you are not entitled to take work from Americans. Period.

Judd Apatow 6.12.1967 Sheep 3.9.5 = 2

This incident, what Chris Rock aptly declared, ‘That was the greatest night in television’ proved truth serum for American society and its obsession with race. Straight away within hours of the Oscars, which occurred on a 9 day (27th March), all the little bigots couldn’t wait to show their true colours. Apatow with a mindset of 9 had to mouth off. You have been too good and too loved the world over.

Rob Reiner 6.3.1947 PIg 6.9.3 = 9

Yet another mindset of 9, Rob just had to chime in, unsolicited, to all and sundry that Will Smith was a monster, who needed to be punished. Always, it will be those with a second number of 9, mindset, who will readily show whom they racially hate when something like this explodes in the culture.

Dasha Zhukova 8.6.1981 Rooster 8.5.6 = 1

Notice that 8 is first-placed in Dasha’s numerological makeup; it’s the ‘this is the finest comeback billionaire tail in all the land’ placement of 8, the money planet. Far be it from Rob or Judd to have expressed moral outrage when this racially charge bomb culturally exploded. Hell, Jackie Mason and Don Rickles spent their entire careers, going onstage being openly racists towards Blacks and I don’t recall either Judd or Rob ever once protesting. Not that we need reminding but always of paramount import it is, to never lose sight of who one’s friends are.

Jim Carey 17.1.1962 Ox 8.9.9 = 8

Not only has he got a mindset of 9 as do Rob & Judd, he also has a secondary 9. Naturally, for this enraged White male, he is running to every mountaintop, letting it be known that Will Smith needs to be arrested and thrown in jail. There were two breakout stars from hit 90s TV show In Living Color, Jennifer Lopez and Jim Carey. Far be it of him, in the ensuing years to have ever featured a Black male or female co-star in any of his box-office successes; god only knows, there was no guarantee that he would ever have risen to prominence, were it not for the exposure that the very Black Wayan siblings afforded him on their show, In Living Color. Far be it from Jim Carey to have ever taken to the media and express his moral outrage at the modern day lynching of George Floyd almost 3 years ago. Instead, in this reanimation of that age-old American pastime, there has he, and others of his special ilk, growing white-hot and tumescent chanting, ‘Yee haw light up them crosses, it’s nigger lynching time!’

Jim Carey Sexually Preys on Alicia Silverstone at 1997 MTV Movie Awards
Sexually Predatory Jim Carey After Will Smith
Jim Carey 1997 Oscars…. Nah This Jackass Could Not Have Been Lowering the Tone.

Stupid people do stupid shit and you can always count on second number of 9 persons to out themselves when all of a sudden, they selectively display indignation at that which offends their perception of what is acceptable and just. Not for one nanosecond do I condone what Will Smith did, when slapping Chris Rock at the 94th Academy Awards; however, why is no one perceiving the double standard at play here? Of course, with two 8s in his numerology, apart from wanting that monstrous Black male thrown in jail, he damn well would have sued him for 200$m – is that per chance a bid to recoup funds paid out to silence the discarded Irish lover who took her life? Glass house dwellers, honest to effing god.

Alec Baldwin 3.4.1958 Dog 3.7.3 = 4

Less than sixth months ago, not 6 or 60 years earlier, Alec Baldwin pulled the trigger and the cinematographer on his film shoot was killed. Where were all these suddenly indignant White males: Judd Apatow, Rob Reiner, Jim Carey et al? That’s what second number of 9, mindset, tells you about all three men and such persons. They are always prejudiced towards a particular group of persons. Here is this arrogant White male, who after having killed another human being acts as though it was a mere coyote; even if he had shot a dog, there would have been widespread condemnation to be sure. Nonetheless, Mr. Arrogant White male (Alec Baldwin) decides to turn mouthpiece of the NRA and lies himself delirious with this semantics two-step about who loaded the gun and he did not pull the trigger. Motherfucker, guns are not sentient; you were holding the goddamn frigging gun, it went off, a human being was killed!

Alas, a White male, less wealthy than Will Smith gets to arrogantly evade the law and during all this time, there has been no cross-burning mob partout, looking to lynch that goddamn so-and-so. Just imagine the effrontery of Alec Baldwin, refusing to turn over his phone to the police without repercussion after a human being lost her life as a direct result of his action. Just look at his demeanour on the day that the cinematograph lost her life; he was distraught, winded and horror-struct… but damn well not for long that’s for sure.

Hilaria Baldwin 6.1.1984 Pig 6.7.2 = 6

Naturally, before you can indignantly shout, ‘are you frigging kidding me?’ along comes his wife, Hilaria Baldwin, ready to hurl invectives at the media for bothering them. Then the week leading up to the Oscars, adding further insult to injury, the Baldwins smugly, gleefully announced that they are expecting baby number 7; get the hell out of here! How’s that for further tearing his arse in the collective face of the cinematographer’s family, friends and colleagues. Alec Baldwin ought to long ago been Bubba’s bitch, instead he is adding to the planet’s number one problem: overpopulation – that’s right, stupid people breeding to excess. Of course, with two 6s, Hilaria craves domesticity and the only way she has been able to keep that comfortably moneyed man, is to have become addicted to her water breaking.

Jada Pinkett Smith 18.9.1971 Pig 9.9.9 = 9

My impression of Jada until the Oscars 2022 was that she was likely a priest soul. Priest souls regardless of gender or ethnicity more often than not, will have striking eyes, more importantly, those eyes are very likely to be almond-shaped. In recent times with her alopecia, I have come to love the beautiful shape of her skull. I specifically chose to look at the Oscars this year because of the date’s numerology: 27.3.2022 which is 9.3.9 = 3. I knew that something impactful was going to go down, which would have something to do with things being said that likely ought not to have been. The moment that Will Smith slapped Chris Rock, I immediately began doing the numerology of Will, Chris and Jada… there had to be clues somewhere. I have never done the Michael Overleaves for any of the three persons nor their numerology. I was so stunned when finally doing Jada’s numbers that my hand began trembling, I dropped the pen and stood up, placed my cupped hands over my nose and mouth and felt the tears warmly snake through my fingers. Never in the 41 years of studying numerology had I encountered someone with four 9s.

9 is the most toxic number and as someone who sleeps and meditates daily in a pyramid with crystals, I simply cannot be in proximity to 9-numbered persons. They will always have a perfected look about them, especially when the first number is 9; they are immensely photogenic but god are such persons alarmingly negative. 9s are shit-disturbers and saboteurs/saboteuses. With four 9s Jada is simply Marquis de Sade with a strap-on. Born in 1971, Pigs are sexually consuming. With four 9s, Jada is quite simply a truly vampiric human; she manipulates, emasculates, gourmandises and sabotages others.

Jada is also going through her Chiron return, which means that from stratospheric heights, there is strong likelihood that one could as if unexpectedly experience sudden Icarian fall/ruin. There was one persona of Will’s that was exclusively controlled by Jada; rather than Will channelling her, she channelled that persona of Will’s, over which she has complete control, to do her bidding – this has likely been going on for years. As nothing is happenstance, Jada showed up to the Oscars where Will would be lionised with the best actor Oscar for King Richard, wearing a crushed, dark-green gown with mounds of fabric snaking after her. Sight being the most developed of human senses, we are most triggered by colours. Green in its negative expression represents greed, control, jealousy, sadism, even, domination, bile. Jada has a sadistic control/relationship with Will, who moments before she began channelling/possessing him and took to the stage of the Dolby Theater, was laughing where she sat steely and viciously cutting her eyes at Chris Rock In a heartbeat, Jada immediately animated that persona of hers which inhabits/possesses Will, up to the stage he went and slapped Chris Rock. All Jada had to do when Will stood up was grab his left arm and ask him to sit down. Period. Not happening, though, when she was on a possessed mission to put Chris Rock in his place.

Since when does a grown man take to a stage and slap another man? Men do not slap men; they punch to the face, gut or knee the groin but men do not slap men. Truly possessed, Jada’s animated persona which truly inhabits Will, took to the stage and gave the plot away and like a woman would a man, Will slapped Chris. Jada, as Will possessed, became the ultimate drag king dominatrix with a strap-on, took to the Dolby Theater stage and did Jada’s bidding through Will’s long-controlled body. Still Jada possessed, Will then returns to his seat and drunk with power as master manipulator/vampire Jada-possessed Will further gives the plot away.

Jada enraged booms through the possessed vessel – which Will during his acceptance speech actually said ‘vessel’ – “Keep my wife’s name out your fucking mouth!” not once but twice to stake her claim whilst possessing Will as she coolly sat next to him saying absolutely nothing, Jada through Will repeated, “Keep my wife’s name out your fucking mouth!” And just like that he was deflated as she returned to her body, her vampiric fix satisfied and Will and his career/life came crashing down to Earth before the whole world as the Oscars were being watched LIVE around the planet.

Like a 9 would, let alone four 9s, Jada saw no point in releasing a statement until four days later. 9s never apologise and when they rarely do, it is utterly disingenuous, so why bother. 9s are perfectionists, fault-finding, pains in the arse, shit-disturbing, conceited troublemakers, who bring ruin wherever they are focussed. So what the hell if she has alopecia? Tough. We are all diseased; life by its very nature is in a constant process of dying and rejuvenating, which in the final analysis ends with death triumphing. Alopecia is just another way for Jada with four 9s to be manipulator by playing victim when she is the most skilled rapacious vampire. In the Michael Teachings Jada would be a classic example of a wife with a chief feature of grandiose greed, driving her husband to ruin.

Lust may make you do crazy things but never once on this planet, has love made anyone do anything crazy. Just look at Will’s posture in that Red Table Talk session, which I have never once watched, he is slumped, winded and utterly under Jada’s control. Jada has emasculated a fine Black man because she is power mad. The time is now, Will. Get up, reach into her handbag, take back your balls, surround yourself with a good phalanx of lawyers and divorce yourself from the madness because love never does crazy. Will needs to find himself then find someone who makes love to his fourth sex. Most people don’t even know that there is a fourth sex or that they even have one, which apart from your mouth, arse or upfront sex is the major sex organ and it resides between your ears. What the world saw at the Oscars is that Jada does not empower Will and has neither love nor respect for Will. Love never ruins nor emasculates you. Will slapped Chris because as much as he was possessed by Jada’s vampiric persona within himself, Will was also crying out for help. That slap and his shouting are what Jada does to him night and day year in year out; he is so numbed with pain that his protest was a way of parroting her and his trapped and emasculated true self but outside their home’s privacy, which only ever empowers Jada. In that end, Will was fighting back and finding his power against Jada, whether he realised it in the moment or not.

Like a scorpion ready to poison and destroy, Jada wore a green gown that had the same posterior carriage/tail as a scorpion. Jada experiencing her Chiron return has proven the anti-feminist; she empowers no one. She has for long years slowly possessed and consumed Will. Hell, she so wanted to get this crazy mess over with, having dissected his life on her Red Table Talk sessions that she devoured him before the world; to hell with the slap occurring later at Governors Ball. Perhaps, Jada thought that in winning an Oscar, Will would threaten to or go ahead and divorce her; this way, she ruined him before he could strike first. How like a vampiric, venomous spider/scorpion/snake she proved. The anti-feminist fears her power, has not mastered her power so is left to consume others with their power and thereby rob them of their power. The anti-feminist does not empower neither self nor other women and she definitely does not empower men.

Kim Kardashian 21.10.1980 Monkey  3.4.4 = 11

Kim Kardashian the ultimate feminist worthy of every man and woman’s respect. Where a mere woman crying victim, would be ashamed and be destroyed by a sex tape, Kim knew that sex is the source of all human empowerment. With a performance on that tape that rivalled the most aggressive Gay power bottom, Kim like a true feminist found her power by not being victim and definitely not looking to victimise her sex tape partner in return. Kim empowered herself and has proven a true modern day feminist without shame of either sex or her sex and in the process has enabled both men and women to embrace sex and their sex and to healthily empower themselves emotionally, mentally and physically. There is power in feeling no shame. Look at those numbers; she is self-made. Most of all, the moment you displease her, she will dispense with you – master numbers 11.

Chris Rock 7.2.1965 Sheep 7.9.3 = 1

Chris has 7 as his energy body; as such, it anchors him and thank goodness for that! 7 persons are always reserved, do not do crazy and they can always be counted on to be socially gracious and never do they go off piste. As drag king Jada-possessed Will in a strap-on took to the stage, Chris, who like all 7s readily see and read energy, at heart centre knew that it was not Will – Will was not truly present. In keeping his cool and shakily coming back when declaring, “That was the greatest night in television,” he saved the Oscars and did not sabotage his career. Chris in doing nothing, did the most beautiful, empowering act as it was his way of seeing to it that a brother, another man, desperately needing to find his power and escape a crazy existence, masquerading as love, began finding his way.

Will Smith partying at Vanity Fair Oscars party, 2022

Will Smith has spent the last 30 plus years in a bubble wherein, he was perceived at large almost as though a castrato: entertaining, affable and devoid that most dreaded of qualities, black maleness. He has yet to wake up to his new reality. As of that slap at the Oscars, everything has radically changed. In that moment, the perception of him was radically altered and he became a violent enraged, angry Black male. He became the object of this world’s hatred, scorn and with it, will come a tsunami of ridicule as the world over 100s of millions will celebrate his fall from grace because there is no sweeter schadenfreude on this planet than that the fallen-from-grace Black male, Michael Jackson, Tiger Woods and Bill Cosby are prime examples of that. Alas, for the hyper-wealthy disillusioned many, they go through life singing, ‘I used to be Black but now I’m rich.’ Then for others like Tyler Perry and Denzel Washington, who are firmly grounded in reality, they know that being Black and rich are not mutually exclusive. Woe to Will Smith for going out and partying after his crocodile tears at the Dolby Theater hours earlier. The optics at the Vanity Fair Oscar party revealed that he has never once rapped, ‘I used to be Black now I’m Black and rich.’ For others like Denzel and Tyler it is an even sweeter rap, ‘I used to be Black and proud, now I’m Black proud and richer!’ Perception is everything and choices have consequences.

Marvin Gaye What’s Going On.

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As ever, life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!

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©2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.

And Then You Have The Frig-All Temerity…

Berry, Halle 14/8/1966

Michael: No, this is not the fragment who was previously Dorothy Dandridge.  This fragment is a second-level mature artisan – second life thereat.  Halle is in the observation mode with a goal of growth.  An idealist, she is in the moving part of emotional centre. 

Body type is Solar/Venus. 

Halle’s primary chief feature is skewed impatience and the secondary is stubbornness. 

The fragment Halle is fifth-cast in second cadence; she is a member of greater cadence three.  Halle’s entity is six, cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod 414 – an entity mate of both Merlin’s and Arvin’s. 

Halle’s essence twin is an artisan and her task companion is a slave. 

Halle’s primary needs are: exchange, adventure and freedom. 

There are 16 past-life associations with Arvin and 12 with Merlin.  ________________________________________________

As I am a sceptic, I looked on at Halle’s historic best actress win speech and though I trembled and cried, I was also detached and shrewdly aware why she had won. Indeed, she was the vessel, at long last, because months earlier the twin towers were felled and who knew what strange new nightmare we had entered. Just to be safe, what do you know, none-too-liberal, the archly discriminating gatekeepers in Hollywood decided that it fiinally was time to “let’s make like nice, whatta say, let’s give her the award.” Oh Please!

In a truly great American cinema, Dorothy Dandridge was just as deserving to have won best actress Oscar for “Carmen Jones” as was Elizabeth Taylor damn well deserving to have won best actress Oscar for her riveting performance in “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” Naturally, to cancel the threat of the very brilliantly talented Diana Ross, singer/actor, winning the best actress Oscar in 1973 for “Lady Sings the Blues,” she was pitted against my father’s paternal first cousin, the actor Cicely Tyson in “Sounder.” A Briton, Maggie Smith was a spoiler vote, so that the sizeable British voting members of the Academy, could cast her a vote rather than vote for either Black nominee. Then there was another foreigner, Liv Ullmann, when the Academy awards are an American awards rather than film festival – the difference is plainly obvious. All this left one other candidate for best actress Oscar, Liza Minnelli, who was just as vapid and untalented as she has remained. And thus, neither Cicely Tyson nor Diana Ross won a best actress Oscar that night in 1973 and, of course, neither would go on to do so.

Just look at the 02:13 mark of the featured video of Halle Berry’s best actress Oscar acceptance speech for her turn in “Monster’s Ball” in 2002, there was sat Helen Mirren, onlooking as though she were looking at this imposter freak, someone being allowed to take a damn award that rightfully ought to have gone to, Judy Dench. There sat Helen Mirren who did not stand up as Halle, an American actor, winning an American award, said, “tonight this door has been opened.” Helen sat there livid at Halle high-jacking the awards with all this affirmative action claptrap. Never mind the Briton small-minded bigot, at least Sidney Poitier (old soul sage) was present to witness the historic moment. Well, you can bet Prada-heeled Britons in Hollywood, went all out to quickly slam shut that door because why should ‘they’ have received such a prestigious award? They are not even RADA graduates. Americans fought a war to rid themselves of the tyranny of these people and their colonising conceit and arrogance. Let’s face it, a BAFTA award hasn’t the cachet of an Oscar; it should be of negligible worth if an American actor is either nominated or wins a BAFTA award. It is not an Oscar.

Why in the hell is American cinema being steamrolled and bullied into submission by these holier-than-thou poseurs? No Briton with the exception of Elizabeth Taylor, who was riveting and compelling in every role she ever played, been deserving of being awarded an Oscar. What right have Kate Winslet, Olivia Colman, Helen Mirren, Emma Thompson, to name far to many, to be in the same league as Katherine Hepburn, Bette Davis, Barbara Stanwyck, Grace Kelly, Mia Farrow, Meryl Streep to mention a mere few?

Ever since the fairy dust of Chuck & Di’s 1981 pantomime, arriviste Hollywood have been bowing and scraping as though these were pre-1776 times. Since that best actress Oscar acceptance speech by Halle Berry in 2002, there has been a plethora of decidedly non-American actors, walking off with an Oscar in a parade of spiteful arrogance. Why Kate Winslet has won a best actress Oscar is beyond me, her every performance is just plain, insipid… uninspired. Winslet and her foreign colleagues are void magnetism and merely use the snobbish hauteur of their British accent as their cachet for being perfectly entitled to an Oscar. Who are these people to be in the same league as Faye Donaway, Jane Fonda and Meryl Streep.

Let me tell you something, that award right there is the most bold-face looting in recent memory. Just like Angela Bassett was robbed of the 1994 best actress Oscar for “What’s Love Got To Do With It” so, too, was Viola Davis robbed of the 2017 best actress Oscar. Viola won best supporting actress Oscar for a role in August Wilson’s “Fences,” which won best actress Tony on Broadway; it is not a supporting role. They even tried to see if they could snatch it from Viola’s rightful clutch, as they did with Cicely and Diana in 1973, in 2017, by also putting Naomie Harris and Octavia Spencer in the mix. Not only was it insult enough to have been misplaced in the nominations category but there was a strong likelihood that Viola could have lost out, just so that she could be put in her place for being so damn good. Bar none, she is the best actress under 60 in English-speaking cinema. Period.

Seriously, though, what can one expect of Hollywood when they had the temerity to tear their arses in the world’s face by having you and me believe that the statistically impossible truly had occurred, affording a tie in 1968 to Katherine Hepburn and Barbra Streisand for best actress Oscar. An Oscar has been of negligible worth since. And as such, it has become a members only club, to keep Black actors at bay; indeed, they go looking elsewhere for actors to whom they award Oscars, chiefly to Britons. To hell with Mr. Darcy. American cinema, to say nothing of actors, are being robbed. Where are the films, telling the story of Cuban-Americans in Miami, Lakota families and their rich history in the north. There are a thousand stories to be had in each of the 50 states of Black, Latino, Jewish, Irish, Mexican, Cuban… all Americans and it is not being told. Yet, you have these arrogant Britons, dragging on a fag and copping hauteur, though no doubt more jizzed than a Grand Central Station urinal during evening rush-hour, grabbing an Oscar time and again and toffing up their accent to bedazzle the none-the-wiser, silly little Yanks.

The one thing that the past five years has taught us, is that Britons are alarmingly racist and not only are they more racist than Americans but unlike Americans, they refuse to admit to being racists. Whether you are black or white, you are American and Americans are second to no one. Period. Why is the acting heritage of American greats like Hepburn, Davis, Stanwyck et al being eclipsed by non-Americans, chiefly Britons, marching in grabbing an Oscar; obviously if an Oscar had comparably less cachet than a BAFTA, no British actor would time-waste, courting an Oscar. Indeed, the age of neo-colonialism is upon us. Helen Mirren is leaden and starchy and does Helen Mirren, time and again. Same with Maggie Smith, Judy Dench (the dame means nothing to Americans) Emma Thompson, Kate Winslet, Olivia Colman the whole lot of them, it is all third-tier smoke and mirrors by way of copping Toff hauteur and using voice (à la Dune) by way of that accent on the oh-so-unsophisticated Yanks. Hell, in 2016 Helen Mirren even argued that there was nothing possibly wrong with only one Black American female having won a best actress Oscar to that point, in the 78-year history of the Oscars.

There are two types of looting with which we are all familiar. One, Black people looting at the drop of the hat; it is expected and an excuse to be reviled by the rest of society. Secondly, though not readily admitted, planetary looting of which we as a species are wholly guilty, which will cause our civilisation’s ruin in due course.

Ah yes, then here we have the most invidious looting. Britons looting an American award because clearly the BAFTA award hasn’t the same cachet. The Academy awards are an American award; they are not part of a film festival, which by its very nature is open to all nationalities, they are a uniquely American award. Then, there is the most egregiously invidious looting: Whites looting Black culture because… well, one can. To fuck with you, Jazz is too good for you; to hell with you, you could not possibly have invented this… This is American music; if indeed it were American music, god only knows you would never have deigned to have afforded us access – like your Oscars – to the art form, which boasts an unrivalled pantheon of musical geniuses. But hey, stay over there in your parallel universe, making your trifling music, as if anyone Black, on returning home after racism’s bile being spat their way 1 to 1000 times for heading out the door could care less. Please go ahead, piss yourselves silly, thinking that somehow any Black has time to waste when at home, to listen to music of the people who hate us, who murder us because… well, one can. Stay there in your parallel universe, lying to yourselves about how great you are – greater wealth and market share does not make for superior art; it is merely damn good business as much as so as are drugs. Don’t, however, for nanosecond get carried away with your deluded, revisionist sacrilege, talking knee-on-our-neck odious crap, “Jazz has its roots in klezmer!” “Jazz is American music! Nope, not having it!

Red Azaleas Singing and Dancing Rock and Roll Music

Acrylic on Canvas

73 34 × 158 12 × 2 12 in.

Alma Thomas

1976

Provenance: Smithsonian American Art Museum.

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How could you possibly expect us to suffer you anywhere near Jazz? Your perception of us; indeed, your notion of what we are and how we should be perceived and celebrated, are as dumb-no-fuck, bug-eyed blasted coons at whom you get to laugh. An Oscar is nothing more than these TV singing competitions where the winner is determined by the votes of well-groomed Joe & Karen Bigot where the outcome will almost always be predictably White. Imagine that, the year that Jennifer Hudson appeared on American Idol, she did not win the competition. The Academy has deemed that Black women are not deserving of a best actress Oscar, anymore than they can damn-well sing. Imagine, Bette Carter, Ella Fitzgerald, Nina Simone, Sarah Vaughan to name but a handful’s legitimacy, determined by the purely predictable, racialised bias of the Academy and its none-too-liberal members. There really ought to be litigation all the way to the U. S. Supreme Court to determine once and for all, if foreign-born actors are eligible to win an American award, the Oscar, when the awards are an American rather than a film festival’s prize. The very heritage of American cinema demands nothing less.

Jazz is Black culture. Jazz is Black high art. Jazz is Black spirituality. Jazz is the assertion of our humanity in the face of your savagery. Jazz music is the language of Black culture’s high-priests, its poets, its genius visionaries. Jazz… it’s about us.

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As ever, life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!

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©2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.

Well, Of Course, They’re Frigging Racist!

Time and again, the British tabloids, media and royal sycophants keep repeating that there is no racism within the BRF and that it is rather a damning allegation to have made on the part of the Sussexes in their sit-down interview with Oprah Winfrey on CBS. What the hell are these people on about? There she was Princess Eurotrash of Flat-Arsedom, going full gansta in her blackamoor brooch; yet, there is no racism within the BRF tabloid sycophants loudly protest.

Of course, right on cue, along came the knock-kneed, flat-flooted Bourbon, displaying his frightful lack of awareness, tack… to say nothing of intellect. Indeed, let’s take Meghan & Harry detractors one and all to task as well they damn well ought to be. Please know this, if you don’t like black people… fuck you!

That’s right, Britons are not in the least racist. God only knows, it is at American baseball, basketball and football games that fans make monkey noises, make Nazi salutes and toss bananas on the field/court… indeed. From top to bottom, whether emboldened royals ie HRH Princess Michael of Kent to chavs and others at a football game, Britons are hideously racist and this need to deny their ugliness is betrayed by their need to sublimate all that by forever masquerading the aristocracy in cinema and art as though to entice and beguile the wayward, rebellious kin across the pond.

Petra…. seriously. Unlike you, Meghan married a blood prince. You, however, fittingly wedded a greasy-looking, conman with obvious substance abuse issues… Come on, you actually laid there and had that walrus slither atop you and pass out after another drunken orgasmic fit… Ew fucking ew! Moneyed trash is still trash… you are but another bigoted, spiritual blackhole aimlessly flitting about from beach to yacht to shopping whilst waiting to finally lay your casket chic looks in a casket. Not surprisingly, that chaviola father of Petra’s has proven himself, vis-à-vis Lewis Hamilton’s phenomenal F1 success just another moneyed bigoted pigmy.

Child, after a lifetime of being all god’s children’s favourite windup fool, there you’ll be all smiles and perky only to hear St. Peter say, “Do me a favour, go on over there and grab that candelabra, I could do with some light…” Honest to fucking god, self-loathing fools are the most contemptable of fools. Leave Meghan alone… you know nothing, save looking for another opportunity to make yourself beloved by those for whom Billie Holiday sang Strange Fruit.

A veritable chavfest of pretentious elitist boors. Imagine the fuck-all temerity of these jackasses to insist that CBS and Oprah postpone the Meghan & Harry interview out of consideration of Prince Philip, HRH Duke of Edinburgh, spouse of HM The Queen, being hospitalised. Naturally, it never once occurred to these ugly-of-spirit, racial predators how their unrelentingly racialised aggression in the media against Meghan & Harry was affecting not just the Sussexes but HM The Queen and her spouse Prince Philip, HRH Duke of Edinburgh. For nine long excruciating months, they badgered away at the pregnant Duchess of Sussex for having dared to have wedded at the apex of their racist society but to go on and start breeding mongrelised royal blood, was simply untenable an affront.

There is not a single white female who would have been racially preyed on by the British tabloids the way that Meghan, Duchess of Sussex has been. Whilst this racially predatory feeding frenzy has endured, not a single protest ever emanated from the BRF or the Royal Households on their behalf. The tabloids knew that in an archly racialised society – apeing black footballers on the field – the business of open racial animus towards the Sussexes was big business…. indeed, not since the phenomenal business that Diana represented for them, had they enjoyed such profits. What neither the royals nor the tabloids had envisioned, was the Sussexes not playing along; they had never fathomed the notion that an American, a black American, would simply pick up, take her blood royal prince and son and relocate to a society where for being a self-made woman, a self-made black woman, she could be challenged, engaged and supported rather than being eclipsed, dehumanised, demonised, silenced…. lynched. No star ever takes second billing to a dull as sodden cardboard ingenue of neither awareness nor discernible intellect… ditto Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge. The problem with the British tabloids and media who cover the BRF were how homogenous they are; with the exception of BAME Roya Nikkhah, this semi-feral herd of racist cattle are overwhelmingly white, which means that everything that they plotted and schemed about meting out to Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, was gleefully done with a racially predatory agendum – it is in the nature of the rabid beast.

By extension, both Oprah Winfrey and Gayle King have relatively demonstrated what a racially suffocating society Britain is. There simply aren’t any paths to success in British media for blacks as in the case of American society. This all begs the question, why again when America has ceased being a British colony, is there a need to lionise British actors in American cinema and all but relegate and ghettoise American actors to the hinterland that is television – although what with the devastating restructuring that the Coronavirus pandemic has caused, Netflix and by extension all cable, have become the newly dominant medium rather than cinema.

Thomas Markle deftly validates the Michael Teaching knowledge that from lifetime to lifetime, you have only one parenting agreement with one of both parents. Obviously, in the case of Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, who was formerly Margaret Beaufort, Doria Ragland is the parent with whom she has the parenting agreement in this life and that’s that. In a manner which deeply rips off the scab of American racism, Thomas Markle in essence treats his own daughter as property… as a mere runaway slave, who needs to be punished at all cost for disrespecting him and not staying her arse on the plantation where she belongs. It can never be forgotten that Thomas is possessed of a 9 in his numerology which would make him just as archly bigoted, conservative and interfering as the Duke & Duchess of Cambridge.

There are two families in each lifetime; the one chosen by soul into which to reincarnate and once incarnate, the onus is on one, to use the greatest discretion in choosing in whom you trust and such persons are family. Sadly, Samantha is like 7 of 10 white females who simply hate Meghan because she married a blood prince; this reality has proven an affront to their lifelong cherished fantasy, indeed, their sacred notion of whom a prince should marry – clearly, it should not be a black woman or else the white female tribal psyche goes on the warpath… as most definitely it has. Meghan has never been perceived by Samantha as anyone but the otiose, nappy-headed bastard who needs to be pinched, bullied, spat at and reviled at every turn and Samantha in her blind rage, was not going to miss her chance to get on the stage before the world and remind us all what ugly malaise of spirit this thing called white privilege is and how it thoroughly immolates thusly focussed persons.

What more proof does one need? Thank you, Master Archie Manners for doing right by your namesakes’ honour; your slight of hand was truly masterful. The whole lot of these blasted dogs have been exposed and as for Victoria Arbiter, she needs to be fired by CNN. Sorry, it is the vicious lynching of the American Duchess, Meghan, Duchess of Sussex by this group of racial predators, empowered by the hideous Bourbon-Bucklebury duo, which drove Meghan to being suicidal.

See this right here; these blasted fucknuts would like to have the world believe that there was no racism to which Meghan, Duchess of Sussex and by extension Harry, Duke of Sussex were subjected and that because the Sussexes chose to have a private moment whilst being counselled by the clergyman and romantically take their vows, which could not have been legal, thus it was a lie, somehow, everything else was a lie. Well see here duckies, the big, flat-arsed princess Eurotrash’s racist shade-throwing could not possibly have been racist, right? Bullshit! Not only was it vile, racist cowardly social aggression, it was also completely and utterly sanctioned by the Cambidges who do no give two fucks, which is precisely why HRH Prince Charles was not allowed access to HRH Prince George for long months after his birth. These are the same Cambridges who leaned forward across the quire aisle from the keenly observant and savvy Mulroneys at the Sussexes’ wedding to hiss and ridicule as well persons possessed of 9 can be expected to do. One should never forget that as a mature soul warrior in perseverance mode with a primary need for power, Catherine knows and understands full well her power.

The moment that Catherine gave birth, and to a firstborn who proved a prince no less, she immediately became the second most powerful woman in Britain after HM The Queen. This is precisely why she showed her power by retreating to Bucklebury and refused her father-in-law access to her child and future sovereign as this was a direct snub of Camilla, HRH Duchess of Cornwall who at most would be Queen Consort, though, never Queen Consort and future Queen Mother. Hers was the second most valuable womb in Britain, she had given birth to a future sovereign and fuck everyone else… all the social/classist aggression that she had endured was, like an irritating mirage, suddenly collapsed into nothingness. Like Camilla, Meghan, Duchess of Sussex could not eclipse, challenge Catherine… What other response could one expect of an inarticulate mousy woman of another who is articulate, self-made, charismatic and unacceptably non-white. Again, all women with a 9 energy body are the biggest shit-disturbers, saboteuse and are fiendishly controlling. I love the official portrait of Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge at the National Portrait Gallery as it truly captures the complexity of a mature soul warrior in perseverance mode with a primary need of power. She was wedded at her Saturn return and it is at that point that you truly start manifesting, who were born to be. Power corrupts and it is obvious in Catherine’s face in the later photos in the above set. Seven years into her marriage and mother of a future sovereign, Catherine was power mad at the point of the Sussexes wedding and there is no way that she wanted Meghan at court anymore than she suffers the non-threat of Camilla who will never be Queen Mother.

Some fucking how, Meghan, Duchess of Sussex was supposed to have endured the unrelenting racially predatory harassment never before experienced by any other black woman in history and, somehow, these bipedal dogs were in essence braying, “Come on, you’re a nigger, come on play along, come on, you can take it… it’s only a poplar tree, what’s the big deal? Why are you afraid to be lynched? It’s your birth right; this is your role in our national sport… we decide and you are not allowed to be in our fairy story. It’s your history to be lynched for fuckssakes. Stop whining and fall into line.” And whilst all this endured the culpable Cambridges, used tampon et al simply sat around inebriated and somnambulant, chuckling, “one ibble dibble, two ibble dibble.”

Sharon Osborne, fired! Now get out of America. Piers Morgan, fired! Fuck you, you rabid racist coward. Victoria Arbiter, CNN needs to fire this charlatan Briton and soon; that exposé by Archie Manners is all one needs to get a fair assessment of these clowns, claiming to be royal expert this and royal expert that. These same clowns in a post-Oprah CBS Interview are claiming victory as the Sussexes poll numbers have plummeted. Seriously, the Sussexes now live in America; trust you me, neither they nor Americans give a rat’s arse about what island-dwelling xenophobic bigots think. No matter how you keep grasping at straws, the Sussexes are well out of your lives – they do not give a blasted damn.

This now frees you up to focus your jaundiced tabloid and fabulist biographies on the rest of the royals… you know, the one with a proclivity for minor fare. Then there is the knock-kneed, flat-footed Bourbon oaf whom you have yet to have a million body language experts opine about the royal brushoff during Mary Berry’s A Berry Royal Christmas Special. That’s right, their marriage is a volatile, shattered affair, which was just as plainly obvious during the BBC Christmas baking special as it was the day of their marriage a decade ago as they rowed all the way up the Mall and whilst on the balcony at Buckingham Palace. Even their miserable-looking kids betray the froideur of their sado-masochistic arrangement.

William is a flawed, weak oaf who hasn’t a clue. Catherine, however, is as rapaciously shrewd as they come. This is why the day after Oprah’s Interview for CBS with the Sussexes when asked by the reporter if the royals were a racist family, William walked right into the trap and spoke up, declaring: We are very much not a racist family.” Catherine, though, pretended not to have heard any of it and simply kept on walking away – indeed, she knew it was best to run away as every coward does. The Cambridges are the architects of it all and unfortunately as he has had to be screamed at and brushed off time and again by Catherine, William stupidly fell for the bait and shot off his mouth where he most definitely ought not to have.

This Betty Carter tour de force, Thou Swell, deftly sums up the superior strategists that the Sussexes are to the Cambridges. Meghan was a Queen Mother too and what is past is present is always future. I played this tune for a couple of hours after William outed himself as the Sussexes intended in their interview with Oprah for CBS, enjoying the deliciousness of their groove which like Jazz, is sophistication most rare. Jazz touches those for whom it is native, it is breath, like it does no one else… go on ape the culture all you want but we both know that, like Billy flat-foot, it don’t mean a damn thing…

As ever, life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!

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©2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.

Givenchy & Valentino

Givenchy (Clare Waight Keller) Haute Couture Fall/Winter 2019/2020.  

Monochromatic, feathers, and all that silver… to say nothing for the headpieces.  

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Valentino (Pierpaolo Piccioli) Haute Couture Fall/Winter 2019/2020.  

Everything about this show was simply masterful…  from the music, Ennio Morricone’s score to The Mission with the show being closed to Aretha Franklin singing Natural Woman.  So much colour, so much verve and attack; the structure and that ruffled purple gown at the end.  Bravissimo!  

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Go on cool kats, you know what to do, push down, plié, push off and start flying your merry little hearts out… cause life is a dream and you damn well can…. I love you more.  Thanks for the ongoing support… 

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©2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.  

#BestDespinaEver!

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Opening nights are always such fun… Tuesday night past, I was reminded of all the opening nights that I would attend with a slightly neurotic Merlin as some show or other that he had directed was being presented to the world… As ever, it was great to see my plus one, Lucian Mann-Chomedy as the ideal partner for these occasions. Always reserved, pleasant and just the right amount of chatter and wit.

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Whilst Lucian enjoyed the pre-show lecture in the Four Seasons Centre Amphitheatre, I slipped next door into the warmth of the Sheraton Centre Hotel and warmed myself on a glass of sherry whilst finishing off 2018’s Scotiabank Giller Prize winner on my KOBO.

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What an utterly stunning tour de force. It was a moment to reflect, this Black History Month on just where we blacks are in the scheme of things. God only knows, it has been bruising to watch Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex become the print media’s most reviled and hunted fugitive from justice of that most vile creature, the racial predator.

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I was still smarting at the events of a week earlier during the winter season’s first major snowstorm. I had been recalling to friends how strange it now was, compared to my first winter in Canada. December 1, 1974 and it snowed that day more than 8 inches. Back then it generally was guaranteed to snow once if not twice weekly. Now at end of January, 2019 and we were finally having our first major snow. This was not like snow from years past… Now it was a dirty, sooty-looking hard mess that lingered, largely in part because the city has contracted out its snow removal services.

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As there are no windows in my apartment – Sol’s too damn bright by far and besides, boarded up windows afford me more art-hanging space – I got down in the early afternoon that Monday with my bike, only to be met by falling snow and several accumulated inches. Back up I went, retired the trusty chrome steed and returned and hopped into a snazzy Audi A6 Uber ride with a Macedonian whose spirit was as smooth and elegant as matchingly was his car. The mood set the tone for my day. As I am known to work 16-hr days, I called another Uber at the end of gig one whilst hoping to get to gig 2 in good time. The snow was still coming down; it was also bitterly cold and windy.

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When finally, Uber #2 arrived, cold and dark with icy pellets mixed in with the snow, the driver rolled down his passenger side window and declared, “Sorry Buddy but I am going to have to cancel this ride…” Already running late, with my wheeled suitcase at the ready, he edged along as I tried to open the door and raised his voice, his eyes almost feral-looking beneath his turbanned, narrow skull. “I said I am cancelling you. One: I never take people like you in my car. Two: you have a shitty rating… Sorry, not sorry. Fuck you Buddy.” With that, he stepped on the gas and I had to swiftly haul me and suitcase out of the way as the rear of his red older model car whose interior did have that blasted malodorous melange of curry, dirty armpit, dirty arse, smegma and whatever the fuck else that passes for immigrants of choice these days. Finally, after having struggled out onto a still-not-ploughed Bay Street, I managed to hail the fourth cab whose West African driver insisted that I call Uber and report him… Days later, I was afforded assurances that the racist Dravidian was no longer part of Uber’s fleet. Similarly, when calling a Beck Taxi with a fairly generic name as Arvin, on coming downstairs the Indo-Canadian drivers on several occasions as though staying on script would feign obsequiousness and state that they were deeply sorry but owing to a family emergency, they were having to take the cab out of service. No sooner than having refused me a ride, they would then be observed heading out to Wellesley, turning on their unoccupied light and picking up a fare off the road. As if the blasted motherfuck, the likes of your overbred arse invented Jazz.

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Each and every time that one experiences racial animus, is preyed on racially, it always harks back to that first winter in Toronto. My best mate from two summers earlier, when I would come to Canada to visit with my dad during school break, had been sick. After Sunday church service at Knox Presbyterian at Harbord and Spadina before returning to our beautiful home at 122 Mortimer Avenue, I would visit – my dad and I – with Tommy who was holding up at Toronto Sick Kids Hospital on University Avenue. My father explained that Tommy was sick with the winter flu, which sometimes could last for months and well beyond winter. I was a scrawny little fourteen-year-old who looked like most ten-year-old Canadian kids as I crawled the halls at Harbord Collegiate where among my mostly Italian-Canadian chums was future lawyer, Rocco Galati. As Tommy, who was a couple of years older than me, had gladly shared books with me the two summers prior that I would take to Knox summer camp and read then have a good stroke off, lusting after my inamorato, Tommy, I readily agreed to do his newspaper route for him until he came home. My first Saturday, the cart was overflowing with the thick Toronto Star newspaper and there was a good foot of snow everywhere. It was hellish but for Tommy, I was game to go the distance – who knows what hot frottage, docking and more was in the offing for having done his route for him! When I got to the northeast corner of Floyd and Bater Avenues that first Saturday to collect the funds, the door opened to a woman whose response to me was the most hideous display of the displaced madness that is white bigotry. Screaming at the top of her lungs, the woman in her upper seventies, vituperatively cursed my black bugger arse off and laid down the law. Never again, “you dirty little nigger” was I to set foot on her verandah.., I was to put the paper between her screen and front doors, knock then return to the top of her steps and wait for her to pay the bill. That first Saturday, she ripped the paper from my hand, flung the money at me. She was terrifying, in her faded blue A-line dress, black spectacles that had those upturned pointed edges at the sides; she wore faux pearls. Most of all, she wore the most hideously terrifying eyes. I remember how much they looked like eyes of a rooster, especially so for being such puffy eyes. Like the evolved, winged and feathered reptilians that roosters are, her eyes truly did look not the least bit human. She was so consumed with racial animus that it was truly frightening. By the time I made it home, I found myself regurgitating. Thereafter, every Saturday, I would take my spot at the top of the steps and consistently she would hurl out pennies mostly at me rather than the verandah where that first winter I had to suffer the indignity of picking through inches of snow on the verandah, steps and lawn to collect my money. Naturally, without fail she called most Saturdays to the Toronto Star, complaining of either not having received her paper on time or that it was missing altogether. This would mean having to buy her a replacement at the corner store, take it and only to be fed on by the hideous-of-spirit racial predator. Like a true cockhound many an indignity I suffered in hopes of my spectacled, full-lipped and scholarly inamorato, Tommy hooking up with me for having been so loyal to him. The summer prior, I had ventured to the public pool on Broadview at Riverdale Park with him and a couple of others and thrilled beyond belief was I to spy his large pendulous balls and that hammer-headed girthsome salami that pummelled his bikinis. Indeed, for Tommy I would suffer much indignity. There was a low-rise apartment building at 1111 Broadview where on the ground floor, there was another predator, this one equally septuagenarian who lived alone, smoked incessantly and always answered the door in various stages of undress, mostly ever only wearing a soiled merino. He was always a generous tipper; a whole 2$ bill in 1974/75 was serious cash. Naturally, in the pre-Ciaslis epoch old anorexic, drunken paunched predator would sometimes tug on the old bulbous semi-flaccid/semi-tumescent, though, pendulous but perfectly useless appendage, trying to lure me in. Sitting there in all that squalor and acting as though he was sugar daddy material… indeed. He was always keen on trying to grab me when giving me the “tip” and I was ever sly and crafty enough to get away from him each time. He, too, lead me to regurgitate, which I had not done since age nine and suffering my first racial attack. Of course, to this day, neither academia nor medicine will concede that there is any such a thing as the racial predator and the effects it has on those preyed on – mostly blacks – and the psyche/mental illness of those who prey on others chiefly non-blacks in varying degrees of severity based on otherness.

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Finally, the house lights went down and I was met by the whimsical vista of the COC’s production of W. A. Mozart’s glorious opera, Cosi Fan Tutte. Previously, I had caught productions of this Mozart gem in Chicago, Montréal and New York City. I was not expecting much at this rate. The Frida Kahlo connection was a bit of a stretch but the butterflies fast won me over.

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From the moment that she stepped onto stage, my spirit soared aloft higher than Mozart’s glorious music to that point had spirited me. Never before had there been so captivating a Despina. My eyes teared up and I was ever on the cusp of explosive giggles. Then what made me truly come undone was the moment Tracy Dahl took to the stage as the notary… by now, I was losing tears and beginning to emit choked snorted chuckles. Each Saturday back in 1974/75 when doing Tommy’s newspaper route, I would end off taking the Saturday Star to Giovanna an octogenarian Italian, who was plump, charming and more adorable than any mere mortal ought to be. Soon, we were fast lovers and she loved fussing over me, baking me each Saturday nice, warm, oven-fresh biscotti washed down with a glass of ice-cold “gingah raleh”… her thick Italian accent was part of her charm. Hers was a large black and white cat, simply known as pussy gatto, who always sat nesting on the armchair. Each week, Giovanna sat transfixed as I read her the newspaper; her vision was to that point fairly deteriorated. As a way of better forging our bond and because most of my mates at Harbord were Italian, for three years, I studied Italian and that really impressed Giovanna, who was simply known as “Mama Mia.”

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As the opera progressed, Ms. Dahl as the notary, dashed and took cover beneath the table at which point, I buried my face in the program with explosive laughter. Straight away, I was reminded of each Saturday when the ever silent pussy gatto would bolt from the armchair and take cover beneath the sofa where I sat as Giovanna began an explosion of long-winded farts. Even the singer’s voice sounded much like Giovanna’s as she sang the role of notary. Remarkably, it was as though she was channelling Giovanna. In that moment, I was healed of the bile, which the recent Uber incident had caused to surface, bile that dated as far back as 1974.

In the end, Tommy’s parents sold their house and it was not until a couple years later that I discovered from the neighbour next-door that Tommy, who had never returned to their Mortimer and Logan home, had died of Leukaemia. Indeed, the winter flu was my dad’s way of protecting me from the callousness of having to lose a friend so early in life.

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Apart from the catharsis that Tracy Dahl’s performance personally effected, I don’t think that it would be biased of me to state that hers was the runaway performance in the COC’s fantastic, and fast-paced I might add, production of Cosi Fan Tutte.

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As ever, mischievously push down and melt with laughter in celebration of the joy that is life and start having yourselves a most glorious of flying dreams. Thanks for your ongoing support of this happening astral joint on this side of the astral plane. I love you more.

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©2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.