All these years later, I have finally had an initial dream encounter with Meghan, Duchess of Sussex. It occurred as I slept during mid-day on Friday, January 27 whilst the Moon transited both Aries and my 11th house. As per usual, Henry (fifth-level mature warrior soul) was in the dream and as ever, he was sat at the top of three steps to a large wooden structure. Not surprisingly, here as in every other dream encounter with this fifth mature warrior soul, Henry was barefooted, unpretentious and again, I marvelled at how hirsute his arms were. There were a couple of men visiting them and the one who did most of the talking, had an American accent. He was strongly advising the couple to acquire the surrounding lands, to the tune of thousands of acres, to their property which was about 100 acres. Opposite the wooden structure was a stand of trees with a small body of water hidden within the growth.
The second man chimed in and he had a toff’s accent; he expressed concerns about what would become of the expanse of land where clearly the polo pitch was located. Henry made it clear that the pitch was not going to be relocated and the very enterprising American was pointing off to the left and beyond the pitch that they could grow food staples for their business. Just then, Archie could be heard calling out to his mum. We all then moved inside and there I’d eventually see her; my first dream encounter with Meghan.
This building was massive and like all dreams set on the astral plane, not only were there lots of exposed woods and high ceilings; my senses were truly awakened in this rather bucolic and lucid dream. As with astral plane-focussed dreams, there was no natural light flooding the interior. We got in and the place was set out like a chalet with seating arrangements that encourage socialising and circulating. What soon became apparent was that this was a lifestyle store as much as it was a log cabin. Products were casually on display without their placement being the conventional hard-sell of a boutique. Over in one corner a door opened and out walked Archie (7th level mature priest soul), who here appeared about 10 or 12 – I have no children of my own so it is always hard to gauge children’s ages. Archie had a big curly afro and carried a large wooden tray with lots of jars of honey. A strong-willed female child (likely Lilibet Diana, third-level mature sage soul in dominance) could be heard in the room through which Archie arrived. Forthright, he placed the tray on a counter and began passing them to his father, to be placed on the shelves behind him where there were other jars. The jars were all glass with an ornate monogram and no paper markings; they were also of various sizes.
Everyone turned and looked and said hello as a warmly smiling Meghan (mid-cycle mature artisan soul) entered through the same door as Archie moments earlier had; she also carried a tray of honeys as she entered. I was completely stunned to see her and realised that I was having my first dream encounter with the very iconic and well-fortified Meghan, Duchess of Sussex. She was poised and as solid and powerful as the Empire State Building is singularly granite.Whereas Archie carried honey-filled jars that were small and seemingly sampler jars, Meghan’s jars were large and of varying sizes. Placed on the counter, there were jars that contained honeycombs; however, most of the jars contained honeys that were infused with ginger, lemon, orange, raspberries, blueberries, blackberries. Still there were others that contained lemon flowers, orange flowers, rose petals and removing the lid from one jar, Meghan offered it to me for a sniff whilst slyly smiling. Reaching forward, I maintained eye contact with her as she anticipatorily waited. I took a long, full-lunged sniff; instantaneously, I was just as lucidly awakened as second earlier whilst looking at her smiling eyes, on closing my own. The magic of dreams indeed; the particular large jar of honey proffered by Meghan, had been infused with the most fragrant elderflower imaginable!
As I never get out of bed before fully recalling dreams dreamt, I then realised that this dream was casting light on the fact that this was a lifestyle and wellness business with each bottle monogrammed with the same elaborate calligraphy. I had a sense that the property may well have been in the English country side, though, it could just have easily been in New Zealand, the American mountain states, or even Canada’s B.C. interior. The American was talking about iced wines; this on awakening could also mean a vineyard here in Ontario. One definitely did not get the sense that this property was in California. The American advisor seemed to be pushing for a vineyard to be planted, but definitely there was to be an expansion of the small orchard – 20 acres or so, which supplied the ginger and various fruits and berries that infused the honeys some of which were blond, others richly dark.
Waiting for me to finally wake up, my FTM transitioning wife brought me a large bowl of hot porridge infused with dates, figs, raspberries (especial favourite) and bananas – the smell of which I cannot abide; their skins make me salivate and grow nauseous. Beaming, I then shared that I had just had my first, very lucid dream encounter with Meghan to which she, a mature soul warrior, also seventh level mature like yours truly but a cynic, faster than lightning striking the CN Tower shot back, “Well, it’s about damn time!”
Sing It Natalie! So many people in Vancouver were introduced to Jazz thanks to my West End apartment 365 overflowing with Jazz 24/7 blasting from the open windows. Vocalese Queen, Natalie was an entity mate (fifth mature artisan soul). Several months after she passed, just as with HLM The Queen, I dreamt of her passing over – in the latter’s case, a year prior to her actual passing. And oh lord Jesus, astral plane homecomings for most Blacks is usually a masquerade of celebration with music saturating every fabric of the astral plane. Natalie took to the stage and performed acapella and until that dream, I had not heard vocalese so stratospherically exalted and complex!
Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex on Late Show with Stephen Colbert Promoting SPARE
Whenever I travel to a city, I always stay within close distance to a crystal store. I want to be exposed to their vibration and thereby harmonise with that city’s groove. In November 2018 when in town for the 100th anniversary of Armistice Day and Royal Ballet’s production of La Bayadère, I stayed at a hotel in Russell Square so that I could be in walking distance to the British Museum, Covent Garden. I got to the Astrology Shop in Covent Garden and took my time, trying to find a couple of crystals that I could keep in my pockets at all times. Besides, the best most fragrant sagebrush can be found at the Astrology Shop. The day of the Remembrance Ceremony, I stood just to the right of the Cenotaph and opposite the balcony where eventually Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex stood with the German President’s wife. I wanted to be there because I knew that HLM Queen Elizabeth II, looking at the state of those canker sores on her shins, was not much longer for this world.
Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex Remembrance Ceremony, 2018
Standing there, at times I had to reach into each pant pocket and clutch the crystal therein after the vile hateful remarks of positively everyone about me made of Harry’s wife, Meghan, before she and the rest of the royal party came to those three balconies. There were times when for sending focussed light energy directly to Meghan to protect from the island kingdom’s racially predatory, hateful focus, the crystals actually became warm in each palm. I was exhausted at the end of the ceremony, eventually making my way to the Queen’s Gallery at Buckingham Palace and taking in a beautiful exhibition that celebrated Queen Victoria’s empire building family, not before the most hilarious cab ride.
The beauty of Prince Harry’s book is that it so undisputedly validates what I have expounded all along about the major royal principals, based chiefly on their numerology. Yes, of course, I have also relied on their Michael Overleaves; however, what I have never done is focussed on their astrology, which is often not remotely accurate. The truly leonine person, for example, is not someone born with the Sun in leo but someone with the Moon in Leo, though, that is obviously possible. Though a Leo, my Sagittarian Moon is a more accurate insight to my emotional makeup than anything else. That aside, the numerology, which never lies, is the real measure of any person’s true character.
Princess Eugenie & Jack Brooksbank at Pippa Middleton’s May 2017 wedding
When initially the Telegraph’s royal reporter, Camilla Tominey speciously reported that Meghan had made Catherine cry, I knew after a quick review of the principals’ numerology that it was a lie. Clearly, the church guests rule was specifically intended to ban Meghan from attending the church portion of the Middleton-Matthews wedding. If Meghan were seen attending the church service then both Catherine and Pippa would readily have been eclipsed. This was an early example of specious and wholly arbitrary rules employed to keep the Yank, the Black Yank, out of the picture.
As Prince Harry, King of Hearts, has poignantly documented in SPARE, the truth, his and Meghan’s had to be revealed to show the extent to which the Waleses’ monstrosity was being protected by the Fleet Street abattoirs. How could these Britons realistically think that they could dismiss a ‘Yank’ in their midst and it not get out. It is not the age of steamships and telegrams. Everything is out there. What the senior royals and their Fleet Street abattoir hacks did not envision, was Henry & Meghan walking.
Obviously, the book is hands down a winner! Here are my takeaways. As to why Harry was so self-revelatory; this has always been one big high stakes PR game. In revealing chatter about his todger and drug use, he readily squashed any potential of the tabloids coming out and releasing this to eclipse his book and, as it were, shame Prince Harry. The most hysterical thing for me was when I was called by a friend and asked if that was a lucid dream that Harry was having when staying at Courtney Cox’s place. That provided a good laugh as I assured him that he was talking about the effects of doing drugs at the party but since nothing less than 9.5 inches ever goes in my mouth and I’ve never done drugs, it had to have been about a drug trip but what drugs I hadn’t a clue. Certainly, dreams don’t go there as in that experience that Harry described.
Young Virgin Auto-Sodomized by the Horns of Her Own ChastityOil on Canvas 1954 Salvador Ali
Sometimes, what passes for reality is truly as though a bad drug experience. Though I lived at 380 Assiniboine Avenue’s Bessborough apartments in Winnipeg, I spent evenings from time to time at Arjun’s tiny apartment on Broadway Avenue. One afternoon, in the midst of winter as I walked home in shoes and socks that were soaked with loud-smelling piss, he had pulled up, and offered me a ride; it’s too cold to be on foot, he negotiated with the warmest smile that matched his large, light brown eyes. He truly was a godsend. I got in hardly able to walk and he thought that I had injured myself; my shoes and socks were frozen to my feet. Someone, though, I had a pretty good suspicion who it was, pissed into my locker with the grated wire door and into my socks and shoes. This only ever occurred when there were snow squalls and the temperatures well below -30°C with the wind chill. He drove a cab for extra cash as he struggled post divorce. Arjun was horrified when he saw my swollen, frozen feet with socks and shoes hard to remove. He made a mean curry chicken and after he would give me a beautiful massage after having tied me off and performed the most maddeningly slow, warm-oiled manual massage to climax whilst we sat opposite each other, naked on dining room chairs. Most of all, Arjun taught me numerology; he felt it was necessary as he discovered that I had master number 11. I always recalled him saying that my little accidents at the Royal Winnipeg Ballet school whenever it heavily snowed was like a bad dream. Faithfully, as promised, he was always there waiting for me outside when it snowed and was bitterly cold as I emerged in piss-soaked socks and shoes. The moment that I saw Princess Michael of Kent in that blackamoor brooch, I became a staunch supporter of Meghan’s. I knew what harrowing put-through it was to be a lone Black, entering into what is a traditionally all-White institution, an institution which after having amassed fantastic wealth from the enslavement of Black Africans could not be expected to be anything but racially hostile to Blacks, which has been most focussed in William and his wife, Catherine.
Standing there at the Cenotaph in November, 2018, and seeing HM The Queen for the last time, I was keenly reminded of how important it was to support Meghan. First hand, from all the people around me, who said the most vile hateful things, all I could do was visualise. Holding on to those crystals, I sent her light energy from the crystals, to enlighten and protect her from the hateful maelstrom being directed her way. As the ceremony endured, I thought of that energy being used to replenish the bile being projected onto her which I then drew away and had the plane trees on either side of me absorb, send to their roots to have it eaten, cleansed and returned from the warm earth, travelling to me via the plane trees’ crowns and the cycle perpetuated. There was no way that Meghan would not have been the focussed campaign of rejection and racial animus from William and Catherine for both being possessed of 9 in their numerology.
Too, it was good to have gotten a thorough appreciation of warrior soul, Prince Harry’s time in the combat zone. He was as soldier who had performed in the war theatre and had survived. Harry needed to have devoted the second of three parts of his inspiring memoir to his military service as a way to present himself to his newly adopted homeland, America.
Above all else, Americans respect veterans. This is such a poignant photograph of soldier Harry. He has been on a mission to avenge his mother, Diana, Princess of Wales’ murder and nothing and no one will deter him on his quest. All the successes of the Sussexes are directly a result of Diana, Princess of Wales being there in their corner.
This book is not just about the structural racism of the House of Windsor and British society as a result of its past as colonisers and enslaving imperialists, it unveils a rather telling aspect of post colonialism. In all my seven decades, I know of no one Black: rich, middle class, creative or otherwise who has ever once spoken of a desire to go on an African safari, have been or know of such things. Prince Harry accounts of his retreats to Botswana’s Okavango delta speak volumes. Here is a realm of human experience, which just a few thousand miles away, tens of millions of Blacks are held captive in poverty, the vestiges of post-Apartheid colonial South Africa, which still stridently exists – political window dressing notwithstanding, and about this they know positively nothing. Seeing this aspect of human civilisation through Prince Harry’s eyes, was deeply inspiring but profoundly devastating. The very essence of Africa, one giant getaway for predominantly Whites to enjoy unencumbered by the misery of Black Africans, Blacks elsewhere about which they have no input, was plainly revealed in Prince Harry’s journeys. The most devastating part which made me break down and cry was listening to Prince William, he of the prejudiced 9 mindset, insisting that Africa was his not Harry’s; A whole fucking continent, the homeland of a diverse, culturally rich people the world over of Black African descent, being spoken of as though Africa were the exclusive property of a blasted White male who could not be anymore out of touch with the 21st century than if he were teleported back in time to Han Dynasty China. Of course, what William was referring to, was the rich animal kingdoms in Africa which exists nowhere else; he couldn’t in the least have given a shit about the dredged scourge that is Black Africans’ lives and their culture.
Of course, in that moment, I was reminded of the vast disconnected that exists between Blacks, the diabolical lengths we go to, to deny our Blackness and our connectedness to other Blacks. Knowing that he was going to die, Merlin wrote letters to many of his professional associates, most in the States. As they shared the same eponymous agency, Joyce Ketay, which later became part of the Gersch Agency, Merlin wrote to actor, Joe Morton whom he had directed in plays and who starred in in the film, Brother From Another Planet. They always got on famously. On receiving the mail in November, 1989, Joe called up from L. A. and said that he would be coming up to see Merlin. It was the most noble gesture. Joe flew into town and my sister and I met him at Toronto’s Pearson International Airport and the evening was both healing and bucolic. I ordered Chinese takeout and went around to Parliament Street to collect the food with Joe and filled him in on how long Merlin had been ill; we got in and my lover who had not been able to hold down a meal in several days, joined in and picked at the food and did not even throw up. As this was the age, long before cell phones’ ubiquity, Joe used our phone to call his wife in L. A. and check in. Some time later, we were having refreshments, they coffee – I can’t abide the stuff and I tea. At some point, Merlin had misjudged his strength and the distance to the coffee table piled high with books, one of which was Luigi Serafini’s magical masterpiece, Codex Seraphinianus. From my perspective across the room all the spilled coffee had not been sopped up and not wanting it to damage the books, I got up and used my napkin to clean up the rest of the spilled fare. Almost violently, Joe snatched his Sprint phone card, from atop one of the large coffee table books, creating an awkward millisecond of social aggression. This is the sort of thing that if Merlin were not ill and he were not staying in our house, I’d have walked Joe to the door and violently slam it on him. After he got up in the early hours, my sister came by and drove him out to the airport where a very large moon was close to the horizon. When I got back to the house, Merlin apologised and said that it was most devastating because he realised that if he were Black rather than Jewish, Joe would not have bothered to fly into town and visit him. It was one of the many times that Merlin, an ardent student of Black literature, who relished just about every Black author there was, touched on the subject of Black on Black racism. I always remember him saying, there is no such thing as being half Jewish, mixed Jewish. You are a Jew! Period! Yet the vogue has been for so many Blacks, exhibiting the most embarrassing self-loathing, claiming not to be Black. As Merlin once joked, well if you have a Black parent how can you not be Black, do these people think anyone mistakes them for Chinese? Said Merlin, what is a Jew with a single Jewish parent referred to as, a Goyish, a mixed Goy. Trust Merlin to always see the humour in everything; however, this need to deny one’s Blackness, is precisely why Joe never procreated with a Black woman. How the hell do you go to someone’s house and consider them a damn thief in their own house? I’d be rather surprised if with his success, Joe has ever been on a safari to Botswana. Merlin passed exactly a week later.
Two men could not have been more different. Indeed, it is a good thing that William is the shit-disturbing, stubborn, pugnacious, bully that he is. He truly represents the collective psyche of White Britain, having to face up to its past as colonisers, enslavers and just blood-thirsty savages. That history has given rise to royal heirs who are archly anti-Black in their perspective and conversely pro-Jewish in their preferences. There is nothing wrong in their preference but you cannot be so daft as to put out there your embarrassing perceptions. Furthermore, it does one’s credibility little to no good when a disproportionate number of the pundits who are savagely attacking Meghan and Harry are Jewish. Recently, even Judge Judy has gotten on the bandwagon of preying on the Sussexes. One of the things that all these persons are keen to do, which Merlin first pointed out to me in the early days of our relations in 1980s New York City, is that when being racially predatory towards Blacks, Jews are ever mindful never to bring race into their discussions and open animus towards Blacks. As he then pointed out, once challenged, one can then scream to the rafters that one is being anti-Semitic. One of the errors of all such persons as they savagely prey on Meghan and being openly racist, is not one of them so much as said boo fuck-all when George Floyd was savagely murdered. It was no business of theirs; of course, in having said nothing by way of protesting, one was clearly supporting such hideous racially predatory savagery. Then along comes Meghan et voilà, Methenny and others are barking mad with rage against that Black bitch Meghan whom they hate; of course, as Merlin long ago pointed out and has been validated, they never once mention Meghan’s Blackness.
Carefully chosen words from a man who could not be more disinterested in Black civilisation than if he were a Klansman. Indeed, there were times on that tour where they were supposed to be representing HLM Queen Elizabeth II where their relationships disrepair could not have been more obvious. Of course, Catherine just had to be photographed standing around with a drink in hand… drunk and debauched indeed.
Of course, we finally got validation of Catherine’s energy body of 9 being revealed as the bully behind who made whom cry. Not only was she a rude, dismissive, confrontational 9 energy-bodied boor, Catherine had to go one step forward and lay down the law as to who was boss, she wore a white dress to Meghan’s wedding – so, too, did Camilla to Diana’s wedding in July, 1981. The bitch wore white, that’s how you know who made who cry. All the incidents reported by Prince Harry in SPARE are evidence of both Meghan and Harry being racially harassed and racially preyed on in the workplace. One of the signatures of 11 master number is that it gives one a keen intellect; one is ill-inclined to gladly suffer fools. Who is Catherine to a self-made accomplished actor? Catherine is a blithering idiot who can do not more than gurn like a mad loon because finally, you cannot expect a fucking mad loon to behave like a self-possessed, strong woman.
It may be a family; however, it is also a workplace and it is fairly obvious that Meghan was the target of a campaign that involved mental and emotional abuse, which was orchestrated by the Waleses and in concert with Courtesan Queen Camilla as it suited her to be an ugly duchess who just could not resist going there as she so relished with Harry’s mother and Meghan’s mother-in-law, Diana, Princess of Wales.
Prince William Goes Off Displaying Short Fused Nature
What I am thoroughly convinced of, by Meghan’s body language when they emerged at the Cambridge Gates at Windsor Castle in September 2022, is that she exhibited signs that not only was she regularly yelled at and abused but either or both, Catherine or William; however, either or both may well have physically assaulted Meghan whilst she lived at Nott Cott. How could they live at Nott Cott when in the palace proper was that vile racist bully, Princess Michael of Kent.
“If You Don’t Mind, Take Your Finger Out of My Face.” Meghan, Duchess of Sussex to HRH Prince William, Prince of Wales.
What Meghan was making perfectly clear, William is milquetoast and furthermore, she did not want his smelly, bussy-poking finger anywhere near her goddamn face. There is no mistaking who had the upper hand in that power dynamic, William and Catherine’s vile machinations notwithstanding.
As much as we know that Prince William loves getting pegged, part of that psychosexual dynamic of being bottomed, is almost always being violently impatient, rude and bullying. This is a scene with which Prince William would be intimately familiar. For one thing, his fourth number of 5 guarantees being debauched and it always means sexual infamy – scandal or multiple scandals that are sexual beyond the norm will manifest and more importantly, make their way into the culture, becoming common knowledge. It is not about Prince William being Gay or Bisexual, it is simply a psychosexual dynamic which at its core is sadomasochistic. William’s desire to be pegged, bottomed and owned, comes as a relief from the domineering, bullying almost brutalising aspects of his personality when he is not sexually focussed. Again, William is moving centred so more than most, he ever would need a sexual outlet. Fourth number of 5, rules excess, infamy.
Prince Harry Bird Watching with Archie & Meghan
There is magic all around, you just have to be accurately focussed to capture those moments, which are ever present. These moments of magic, like the incident related in SPARE of the crash of the Queen Elizabeth Christmas tree ornament, are moments which reinforce that Diana, Princess of Wales is not far off. Indeed, loved ones with whom one remains bonded, will never lose being focussed on us here and now. As there are another 400 pages of this memoir, SPARE, yet to be released, I fully expect more of the Waleses, Charles and Camilla’s ugliness to be further revealed. Beautifully written, this is a most raw, honest and scathingly focussed memoir. Godspeed Henry, Meghan, Archie & Lilibet your work is ably fortified by Diana’s guidance and protection. God save a most noble Prince Harry, King of Hearts.
A Love Supreme. John Coltrane. 1965. Full Album
John Coltrane – Soprano & Tenor Saxophone
Jimmy Garrison – Double Bass
McCoy Tyner – Piano
Elvin Jones – Drums
This handsome gem played nonstop as I pored through SPARE, getting to know Henry’s raw, inspiring, beautiful soul. John Coltrane’s creative genius certainly got me through some rough patches in the book, especially, his early trauma at the violent murder of his mother, Diana, Princess of Wales. I cannot state enough, but whenever I have dreamt of Henry he has always been relaxed, unpretentious and barefooted, which really made me sit up and take notice during the Netflix & Archewell Productions, co-production of Harry and Meghan, the docuseries. Above all else, special mention must be made of J. R. Moehringer, SPARE’s masterful ghost-writer; he did one hell of a job.
As ever, life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!
Al Jolson giving possible birth to the notion that Jazz has its roots in Klezmer.
Al Jolson Singing Mammy!
Though someone’s perception of you is no damn business of yours, it does though matter when it is a whole people’s deliberate intention to demonise, vilify and portray a people as goddamn fools.
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At the time of Henry and Meghan’s royal wedding, there was a dearth of Jews commenting on social media about their union. There were no Jewish celebrities opining about how they thought that it was great that an American, an American actress was marrying into the royal family. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. There is more to discern in people’s silence than in exactly when they are silent.
The Woman Is Fucking Nuts. Who Can Possibly Find This Remotely Appealing.
Mic DropPresident Barack H. Obama
Sorry Sweetheart, you are an inarticulate, embarrassment. STFU and STFD, Basta!
Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge/Princess of Wales by Paul Emsley National Portrait Gallery London 2012
Now that the Sussexes, Henry & Meghan, have massively succeeded in articulating their truth in the Netflix and Archewell Productions co-production, which to date has had 241 million viewing hours, the dynamic has shifted. The war campaign has now entered a new phase. To date, it has been the toxic Royal Rota hacks and their plants/sympathisers in America who have been flapping their dirty yaps at Meghan’s expense. All the lies that they have hammered away at the low-browed, knuckle-dragging cultist of the island kingdom have been exposed to Americans and the rest of the world.
Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge/Princess of Wales Wearing Jenny Packham in Jamaica, March 2022.
Just look at this 9 energy-bodied, self-toxic boor; she is vile. Most of all, she is the most inarticulate, mumbling, sarcastic, bitchy socially displaced moron imaginable. Let me make it perfectly clear, you think it nothing to abuse Meghan to the nth degree because she, after all, is just a mere goddamn nigger – let’s get real. Well guess what idiots, ever will I be most fuck-all indefatigable in defending Meghan’s honour. All of this for the simple fact that she is a Black woman. There is no greater symbol of structural racism than the British institution of monarchy.
The Crypt Dweller Giving Her First Speech As A Royal & Desperately Trying To Sound A Right Toff
The United Kingdom’s recent half millennium was caught up in the savage pillage of empire from the Orient, across Africa to the Caribbean and North America at the heart of that vast imperial expansion was slavery, cheap dehumanised labour, to get sugar, cotton, spices and all manner of commodities back to the heart of the empire, London. Catherine, to be fair, dresses up nicely but beyond that, she is a hollow, burnt out, inarticulate, mumbling, blasted embarrassment.
Here is the mumbling inarticulate self-toxic, 9 energy body boor, trying to look professional and upping her game in 2021 after Meghan had breezed through and showed this bit of sodden cardboard, who seemed to think that she was being cast for the role of Sleeping Beauty, how it’s done.
Windsor, Diana, Princess of Wales July 1/1961<O>August 31/1997.
Michael: The fragment who was Diana Frances is a second level mature artisan and was in the passion mode with a goal of acceptance, a pragmatist in the moving part of emotional centre.
She had a Lunar/Mercury body type.
Diana’s primary chief feature was stubbornness with a secondary, not of self-destruction but of self-deprecation.
Diana Frances was first-cast in her cadence and her cadence is fifth in the greater cadence. She is a member of entity one, cadre six, greater cadre 48, pod/node 380.
This fragment’s essence twin is a discarnate artisan and her task companion is a discarnate sage, both of whom are staying near her, waiting for her to become oriented to her situation.
Here we had an artisan with drama in her casting but also with a very deep need to serve both the common and the higher good, which she did with grace, charm and a good deal of conviction.
*One of the reasons why Diana, Princess of Wales felt so out of her depth amongst the royal family, is because she is from pod 380, most of the senior royals are all from the 400 series pods. She would have felt just as isolated as Meghan for being Black in a milieu where structural racism is deeply entrenched.
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The fact is, the roles of these persons are deftly validated by their behaviour and the choices that they have made to date. Diana, Princess of Wales was shy and guarded at the start of her reign as the most loved woman on the planet; however, when she found her feet, she was unsurpassed. Diana was an early mature soul artisan. Artisan souls bring a certain magical je ne sais quoi to whatever they are focussed, especially most alluringly so when female. Prime examples of artisan souls with this glamour effect and also persons who can magically articulate the message are: Marilyn Monroe, Martha Graham, Evelyn Hart, Whitney Houston, Ella Fitzgerald, Naomi Campbell, Judith Jamieson, Annette Bening, Billie Holiday and Natalie Cole. All these female performers add great death, delicacy, eloquence and beauty to their art, regardless the medium. The reason why Catherine does not have the charm and charisma that was Diana, Princess of Wales’s is because she is a warrior soul; besides her overleaves do not lend themselves to being soft and alluringly charismatic.
Michael: This fragment is a mid-cycle mature artisan in the tradition of the deceased mother fragment who was Diana, Princess of Wales — third life thereat. Meghan is in the observation mode with a goal of acceptance. An idealist, Meghan is in the moving part of emotional centre.
Meghan’s primary chief feature is self-deprecation and the secondary of mild impatience.
Meghan’s body type is Venus/Solar.
The fragment Meghan is fourth-cast in the fifth cadence. Meghan is a member of greater cadence four. Meghan is a member of entity one, cadre six, greater cadre 7, pod 418 — she is an entity mate of both her spouse, HRH Prince Henry Duke of Sussex with whom she shares 20 past lives and also an obvious entity mate of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II.
Meghan’s essence twin is an artisan and the task companion a warrior.
Meghan’s three primary needs are: expression, acceptance and expansion.
There are 4 past-life associations with Arvin and 6 with Merlin.
Incidentally, this artisan has been a member of the British royal family twice before. Firstly, as Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Richmond and Derby, she was the cousin of King Henry VI and mother of King Henry VII. As such she was the matriarch of the House of Tudor. Her grandson was Henry VIII and her great-granddaughter, Elizabeth I.
This artisan in that lifetime was involved in the sacraments of the church, being included in the newly established college system. She founded Christ College, Cambridge and was instrumental with the founding of St. John’s College as well.
Secondly, she was HRH Prince Edward, Duke of York and Albany and younger brother to George III, whose father the Prince of Wales, HRH Prince Frederick died before ascending the throne after George II. In that lifetime, the artisan (now Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex) was interested in military structure. He, of course, died young of a then unknown illness but which had to do with dysentery.
Incidentally, in the current incarnation, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex has suffered from gastroenteritis, which is related to the last-life health issues – this is the immediate past life and not that in 18th century when the artisan died aged 28.
*Two artisans, Diana and Meghan possessed of inordinate eloquence, star power and charisma. Both Diana and Meghan had/have a goal of acceptance; this is the great goal and all such persons have great appeal and are much loved. For less spiritually evolved souls, these persons with goal of acceptance can provoke suspicion and fear; they can even experience the opposite of their goal which is rejection and certainly, thanks to race and her unique role within the monarchy’s history, Meghan has proven a source of great fear and phenomenal rejection. She has mightily threatened the fair story and the White tribe’s sense of its superior blood’s purity and Meghan has caused many to feel truly displaced as their Caucasian blood/genetics is being threatened by the African/Black blood/genetics, which means no longer guaranteed blonde and blue-eyed offspring.
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Meghan, Duchess of Sussex Opening Remarks at One Young World Summit, 2022
Most of all, like Diana, Princess of Wales, Meghan, Duchess of Sussex is an artisan soul and also an early mature soul artisan. Regardless of what one projects onto Meghan, she possesses magical qualities, like Diana did, when she takes to a mic. For Catherine, a mic is Kryptonite. Full stop.
This Is The First and Only Royal Foundation Meeting/Interview with Meghan Participating
Meghan performed handsomely as one can expect of an artisan soul with a goal of acceptance and an actor to boot. However, as is obvious from Prince William’s posture and his having had the last word in the interview, he was hawkish and Meghan performed too well. She, as far as William is concerned, upstaged not just his mumbling idiot wife but he himself. How dare she upstage him when he has been groomed from birth to be the star? She was a damn Yank and a show-off, trying to act as though this were the Meghan show. What kind of institution is that which would misogynistically want a woman to merely be an appendage. In the modern age, one has to be on and represent. Charles as with Diana and William as with Catherine have to realise that there are times when it is important based on the chosen charities that the wife has to go off and engage and make speeches to drive both attention and funding to chosen charities. If you have a blithering idiot for a wife who merely goes out and shakes hands but cameras are not allowed inside to see what an embarrassing zombie the damn woman is, then what is the point? There is no value for money there. And you can bet that William would have overbearingly been giving critiques and directives to Meghan as to what she can and cannot say or do. I cannot state enough how difficult persons with 9 mindset are to deal with. They do not listen and they never take anyone’s counsel. They know and no one is good enough to tell them anything. Just imagine that degree of conceit being exalted in someone with tunnelled vision for having a stellium in their birth chart and groomed from the word go to be sovereign.
No matter how persons here and now arse-kiss the current heir to the throne, history, the final arbiter, will dismiss William as one of the most woefully inept sovereigns, who was out of touch and a difficult prick and a half. This photograph perfectly encapsulates who these two 9-energied persons are. He is from another age and time, full of self-import and entitlement and she just another fake, gurning White female who wants the world at her feet whilst not giving a living damn. No other couple on the world stage embodies the myopia of 9 energy than these two. He will not be acceding the throne in the age of HM King Edward VII or for that matter that of HM George V when good old HM Queen Mary maintained the social rigidity of the Victorian Age to the hilt.
The Queen has died and had no assurances that the realm over which she ruled, is going to be in capably fantastic hands of a regal couple who will be able to steward the dynasty through the remainder of the century. Having been to St. Andrews and acquired an art history degree by the time of her fifth wedding anniversary, Catherine should have proven herself an asset to the Crown. All she did was an introduction to an exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery about early photography, in early 2018, seven years into her marriage. At her disposal that archly lazy and socially discriminating boor has done positively nothing to uplift, inspire and proven herself a loved figure. Who gives a rat’s arse how insecure and rigid William is. Putting to good use her academic credentials, she could, by The Queen’s passing, have done three arts related televised shows per year. As arts patron of the Royal Ballet, she could have been ably assisted in hosting a television production, which would then be shown on one the BBC networks. Cameras would follow her around as she films a day at ballet rehearsals then at opening night she is attendant for a ballet like the Nutcracker so that children across the social strata are introduced to a world which could prove both inspirational and possibly lifechanging. That is a show that could then be sold internationally and those funds go to engage working class kids to become and be supported in pursuing careers in the arts. Similarly, another telecast could be mounted for the production of say the Royal Opera’s Marriage of Figaro.
Portrait of HM Queen Victoria With Her Family, Exhibition At Queen’s Gallery November 2018 Royal Collection Trust
Still another production could feature the young and capable academically accredited Catherine, giving a behind the scenes tour of some aspect of the Royal Collection Trust, which would in due course form part of the rotating exhibitions that move from the Queen’s Gallery, to Holyrood House and Windsor Castle. All that exposure garners more revenue as persons would come from across the globe to take in these exhibitions presented by the future Queen Consort, Catherine. Instead, she has supposedly been playing femme au foyer with a large staff of nannies and servants as though anyone is being fooled by the fact that their invisibility could be for no other reason than the couple being heavily engaged in their extramarital affairs.
This has never transpired because Catherine is too damn lazy and more importantly, William is far too snobbish to want to afford the little people access because such initiatives by Catherine would afford the social lepers, as his 9 mindset would see the little people, access to art to which they are not entitled. This same snobbery and bigotry is precisely why Meghan did not stand a chance. Working in tandem, of course, Meghan could have hosted similar telecasts which featured actors in rehearsal before the premier of a theatrical production. All this would usher in a time of great artistic activity, which would have its full manifestation during William’s reign and prove a hallmark of that era. That snobbery is why after the Grenfell Tower fire in June 2017, not far from where I was staying in Chelsea when visiting London that Summer, Meghan for 9 months worked with the ‘little people’ and produced the Together cookbook, for which she would have been resented by William and Catherine as it would be deemed to be showing them up.
Windsor, HM Camilla, Queen Consort 17/7/1947.
Michael: Yes, this scholar is at the mid-level of the mature soul cycle — third life thereat. Camilla is in caution mode with a goal of growth. A pragmatist, Camilla is in the moving part of intellectual centre.
Body type is Lunar/Venus.
Camilla‘s primary chief feature is impatience and the secondary arrogance.
The fragment Camilla is third-cast in sixth cadence; Camilla is a fragment of greater cadence seven. Camilla‘s entity is five, cadre six, greater cadre 7, pod 129.
Camilla’s essence twin is a scholar and the task companion is a warrior.
Camilla’s primary needs are: exchange, freedom and power.
There are 10 past-life associations with Arvin and 6 with Merlin . (July, 2017)
*Camilla is an early mature soul, much as Diana and Meghan were/are. The mature soul cycle is where one makes/incurs a great deal of karma for fucking with others’ lives. This is what Camilla, the Courtesan Queen did in spades and what she has resumed doing with Meghan as she had with Diana, Princess of Wales. There is no greater conceitedly stubborn and interfering soul than a scholar soul. Camilla had a direct hand in Diana’s emotional distress and her eventual divorce which led in time to her being murdered. This has left the Courtesan Queen a very nasty piece of work and this you have seen acted out in her openly rude behaviour towards Blacks and taking lunch with known racists and attackers of Meghan at Mayfair’s Murano.
Never mind Catherine, the real dynamic in all of this has been, all along both William and the Courtesan Queen. Both Camilla and William are mature Scholar souls. Scholar souls are the only souls which do not pair with another soul on a particular axis as for example: Slaves/Priests on the inspiration axis, Artisans/Sages on the expression axis and lastly Warriors/Kings on the action axis. For this reason, Scholars are very insular and do suffer from delusions and folie de grandeur; more often than not, they are archly prejudiced and like to put everyone and everything in its little box. Everything is anal retentively categorised into their rigid little boxes and they do not waiver on this purely arbitrary prejudicial perspective of theirs – each and every one of them. Also, as a rule, Scholar souls do not favour being Black and do not like Blacks – on the surface they prefer being in milieu and in societies where rather than the arts and creativity, knowledge is favoured.
Windsor, HRH Prince William Prince of Wales 21/6/1982 London, England
Michael: This fragment is sixth-level mature scholar – third life thereat. William is in the observation mode with a goal of acceptance. A pragmatist, he is in the intellectual part of moving centre.
Body type is Lunar/Mars/Saturn.
William’s primary chief feature is stubbornness – death of his mother, Diana, Princess of Wales, was the triggering event and the secondary arrogance.
The fragment William is third-cast in sixth cadence; he is a member of greater cadence seven. William’s entity is four, cadre one, greater cadre 6, pod 208.
William’s essence twin is a scholar and he has a warrior task companion to whom he is married, Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales.
William’s primary needs are: exchange, freedom and security.
There are 6 past-life associations with Arvin and 3 with Merlin.
*Like Diana, Princess of Wales, his mother, and Meghan, William a scholar soul also has a goal of acceptance. However, unlike both women, he is moving centred; this means that he shoots his mouth off before thinking through things. He takes action without realising that he has not got a truly objective, clear overview of the issues in hand. Moreover, William was born with a stellium in his astrological chart which means that he can never clearly see the forest for the trees. His scholarly conceit means that he will act as though for being destined to be sovereign, he has a right to openly discriminate without a care in the world; this is what he engaged in at his brother’s wedding. William has become so corrupted that he is almost exclusively focussed in his opposite goal of rejection, which is what his campaign of opposing Meghan’s very existence is all about.
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HRH Prince William, Prince of Wales & HM Queen Camilla, Queen Consort
As is obvious, Prince William is a sixth mature scholar soul. This is the most difficult level of any cycle, be it young, mature or old soul cycle. There is no peace for such persons and they can and often do create more karma than had been part of the life plan. In the case of William for being a scholar soul, he just had to be a shit-disturbing, conceited bigot and interfere in both his brother’s and his brother’s wife’s lives without a care in the world. I cannot express enough how very dangerous William is. More hired hands, more assassins and bullies are scholar souls than any other soul. There is positively no way that life within the institution was going to be smooth sailing for Meghan. She was too good to be true and most White scholar souls when they are prejudice will favour Whites, of course, and then Jews and Asians but almost never or very rarely Blacks – if the job requires they will go through the motion but they truly do consider Blacks not to be fully equal, fully human. Full stop.
William & With HM King Juan Carlos of Spain – That Bourbon Nose Though
There are two other very important parts of the puzzle to factor here. Not only are William and the Courtesan Queen on their third life at their respective soul ages; however, both scholar souls have the exact casting in cadence, cadence and greater cadence. They are both in the third (warrior/combative/interfering) position in the sixth (priest/megalomaniacal/Napoleonic/god-complex delusionality) cadence. As if all that were not enough, both though not pod mates (Camilla 129 and William 208) are also in greater cadence seven (king/dictatorial/bossy/abusive/vindictive). Of course, this would have left the Courtesan readily obsessed with fucking with Diana, Princess of Wales just as much as it has left William obsessed with fucking with Meghan, using his obediently pegged and bothered sex slave, Jason Knauf. Camilla and William are as though one and the same personality as they are singularly focussed on fucking with a more popular royal. Scholars are readily threatened by sages and artisans because both soul types are on the expression axis and have a ready wit, appeal and theatricality that scholars almost always find threatening as it highlights their own sense of dullness and lack of mass appeal and sexiness. Obviously, there are exceptions to all such basic personality types with regards to the roles; however, when you look at both Diana, Princess of Wales (Lunar/Mercury) and Meghan (Venus/Solar) body types both Camilla and William would respectively be threatened by each hugely more popular royal. Venus/Solar body type means that no matter how the collective consciousness tries to invalidate and demonise Meghan, more than all the current senior royals, she will transcend time and be the most powerful and popular royal from this age. People well into the future will be astonished that anyone had to endure so much bullshit merely for being Black and marrying into the royal family.
William and Catherine socialising whilst on duty. As a rule, Scholars souls are not touchy-feely types; this is why at times, Catherine has to be the one to initiate tenderness between them. Of course, this is totally opposite to the Sussexes who are warrior (Henry) and artisan (Meghan) souls which are very simpatico and when it works is a very dynamic, sizzling relationship with lots of touching and empathetic communion of souls. Whilst Catherine and William are task companions, unbreakable bond, Henry and Meghan are entity mates and would be deeply bonded and simpatico.
HM Queen Camilla, Queen Consort & HRH Prince William, Prince of Wales
The second oldest soul of the senior royals, William is at the difficult six level of the mature cycle. What makes William singularly problematic for the Windsor dynasty, is his chief feature of Stubbornness. The chief feature is the fatal flaw which causes one not to achieve one’s goal and leaves the life in disarray; it is also the most difficult chief feature to overcome. William’s stubbornness means that though he can be as charming as are all persons with a goal of acceptance, he does though almost exclusively come from a place of rejection the opposite of his goal. People in stubbornness are difficult, bullying and under no circumstances do they tolerate change or anything that is different – this cannot be emphatically stated enough! Under no circumstances did Meghan stand a chance with this difficult individual. There is never a single instance where William is photographed being warm and inclusive of Meghan, not whilst on the balcony at trooping the colour or at any other time. There is the infamous Christmas at Sandringham where when Meghan looked back to speak to William, he stopped turned away and began fidgeting with his scarf. It was a snub and was deliberate. Of course, for the White tribe the most powerful word when dealing with Blacks, to whom one owes enormous karma, is NO! Scholar souls are devoid emotionality and as they do not pair with any other soul type, they are loners and innately reticent snobs.
Simply Beautiful Jennifer Hudson Kennedy Center Honors Al Green 2014
Yes, you are Diana! Yes, you are Meghan! Simply beautiful, you are Diana and Meghan, and those who know nothing of beauty, fear you most!
Just as the Courtesan Queen scholar, Camilla made Diana’s life miserable and triggered her emotional and mental abuse, so too has the Pegged Bourbon lovechild caused Meghan emotional and mental anguish by having the Fleet Street abattoirs and the palace leakers, especially that nez brun queer, Jason Knauf, REJECT, demonise and racially lynch Meghan, leaving her the most hated Black woman in history. This notion that Catherine and William have played no role in the Sussexes’ departure is sheer bullshit. They are guilty as sin. Catherine would have hated and been rude and dismissive of Chelsy Davy and Cressida Bonas, especially like Meghan, Chelsy and Cressida are better looking than Catherine. Catherine is ridiculously insecure and her 9 energy body would have her bullying and treating any wife of Henry’s like a dog. Catherine is a displaced commoner, which is all the more reason why she would be power mad; she does too have a primary need for Power which is a mark of megalomania.
You Bring Me Joy, Yolanda Adams Tribute to Anita Baker, BET Awards 2018
Let’s send some love for both Diana, Princess of Wales’s beloved son, Henry and Meghan, Duchess of Sussex for the abuse they have endured at the hands of grudging, interfering, racist scholars. Sing it Yolanda Adams!
Windsor, HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex 15/9/1984 London, England
Michael: This feisty fragment is a fifth-level mature warrior -– fourth life thereat – to his sixth-level mature brother, William. Henry is in the power mode with a goal of growth. A sceptic, he is in the moving part of intellectual centre.
Body type is Mars/Saturn.
Henry’s primary chief feature is arrogance and the secondary stubbornness.
The fragment Henry is first-cast in second cadence; he is a fragment of greater cadence three. Henry’s entity is one, cadre six, greater cadre 7, pod 418 – Henry is an entity mate of his paternal grandmother, HM Queen Elizabeth II.
Henry’s essence twin is a warrior and he has a scholar task companion.
Henry’s primary needs are: freedom, adventure and exchange.
There are 9 past-life associations with Arvin and 5 with Merlin.
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Where Camilla saw Diana as too ‘showy’ and a threat that had to be eliminated – remember, more guns for hire, assassins and saboteurs are scholar souls than not, William also saw his mother and her emotionality as a bit of an embarrassment. Had Diana survived, he would have been just as cool towards her on becoming a parent as he was towards his father, HM King Charles III. Though HM King Charles III is the oldest soul senior royal, seventh mature warrior soul, like all such souls, yours truly included, they do not do drama and have no patience for confusion. Where it all gets interesting, is the other warrior soul in this mix, Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex who as a fifth mature warrior is going to be drama on an operatic scale which is precisely what is unfolding. Do not for a nanosecond think of Henry as a mental case, he is a source of deep fear for the senior royals as he has the shrewdest most Machiavellian overleaves; no matter what, Henry will triumph… know that. As he was Black in his immediate past life, Henry will fight to the last man standing in defence of his wife and children, persons of Black African heritage. Henry’s having been Black in his immediate past life is validated by his connection to Africa, Black Africa and his work with Prince Seeiso of Lesotho, his AIDS charity, Sentebale and deep connection to Botswana and the ease with which he has always been in his skin when in the company of Blacks, unlike William and Catherine who clearly cannot or choose never to mask their racial animus towards Blacks.
Fifth mature lives are all about being expansive and such persons do accomplish a great deal; coupled with that, Henry has a goal of growth. Such people do not stand still, they will be born of humble means and end up living on New York City’s billionaires row in a penthouse. They will be the first to sign up to go into space, the Moon or Mars; they are daring and will always take that leap of faith that others would think horrifying. Furthermore, Henry has an attitude of sceptic, this is the most complex and most powerful manner in which to be focussed intellectually. It is the attitude of the master strategist and as rigorously shrewd as a chest master. Regardless of how Henry is portrayed by the media, he is the most intelligent royal and infinitely more complex and smarter than both his father and brother; HLM Queen Elizabeth II knew this as hers was a goal of dominance and a realist, she saw everything and everyone as they truly were. This is why during the Netflix documentary Henry’s description of what happened at the Sandringham Summit, is precisely what would have happened, William would have been a yelling bully, Charles dithering and lying all over the map and the Queen relishing watching Henry come into his own in a most tense power struggle. Topping it all off, Henry is in power mode, these people are operatic in the scope of the lives they lead and they do accomplish much. They are able to attract into their lives only that which they desire. There is no way that Henry could remain a part of a dynasty, wherein his brother he knows to be both stupid and clueless. Most of all, William is an anti-Black racist and there is no way Henry would be able to either tolerate or support any such Sovereign. This was never about stepping away and abandoning The Queen, it was about telling his brother to go fuck himself – for a sceptic, Henry knows that his brother is an idiot and neither holding his tongue nor kowtowing proved an acceptable proposition to Henry. Also, Catherine and William are in the 200s pod series whilst HLM The Queen, Henry, Meghan, Prince George and Prince Archie are all cadre mates in the 400s pod series. The current Waleses do not get it and Henry was not prepared to stick around and tolerate the abuse or participate in his brother and his wife’s clown show: pegging, love children, philandering, perpetually rowing night and day. Thus far, the Waleses have been adulterous which has likely resulted in a lovechild between them, Damian with Ben Ainslie and a daughter with Rose, Countess Rocksavage. Mature souls prefer mating for life and running stable households, unless of course that mature soul couple are miserable with their partner as is abundantly clear with William and Catherine.
A House Is Not A Home Luther Vandross 19th NAACP Image Awards 1987
And above all else, we own the music, we bring the music. My eldest sister who now permanently lives in Nevis came to town in recent months, for having been in lockdown for way too long; she just wanted to get away. I was last in Nevis in 2000 to introduce my wife to the place who thought it was the most far out trip imaginable; personally, it is way too bright in the Tropics. I who have collected art since my teen years, have preferred working at night time and living with windows heavily draped at all times. With a collection that is more than 90 percent works on paper, I can ill afford to have my art being subjected to sunlight. All windows boarded up, affording me more space to hang art; besides, Sol is too damn bright and furthermore, it belongs the fuck outside. In any event, my sister began talking about family and who had gotten married, died and had babies; she is the encyclopaedic font of the family’s history. So then she began sharing all the chatter about Covid lockdown funeral etiquette, when she mentioned that she attended the funeral at which scary spice, Mel B. (Brown) of the Spice Girl gave the eulogy. That was news because I knew that only few persons were allowed to attend funerals. So Mel B. gave the eulogy for her beloved grandmother who happened to have been a cousin of my mum’s; my sister was invited to represent our family. So who aren’t you related to, my wife asked and off my sister went.
Meghan is Black so naturally out of the woodwork comes all this hate and animus from persons who have no business being in this lane.
Like seriously. Look METHenny what the fuck has this got to do with you and why are you being so goddamn ape batshit crazy? When were Black people jumping up and down and acting like the sky was falling when Al Gore announced his running mate, Joe Lieberman? Go educate your 20 million zombie followers all about the Falasha genocide in Israel. No, you don’t know about that? Why don’t you go back and stay the fuck in your lane, shut the fuck up and stay fucking lost? Honest to fucking g_d!
Then along comes this racist freak, Joanna Weiss. Hey Donkey, what gives? Hate Meghan all you want, it will never change the fact that Catherine is a blasted inarticulate dud. She is lazy and the only thing she is capable of doing, is working with toddlers because she is not expected to make speeches to persons sucking on pacifiers and wearing diapers. This need to make inroads into America, pushing this negative narrative about the Sussexes is transparent. Most of the persons engaging in this hate campaign are disproportionately Jewish. This woman’s article made positively no sense whatsoever; however, it is a known fact that once ‘one’ is being shrill about Blacks, one must be right. If no one can so much as look sideways in your direction why must you persist with always demonising, vilifying, racially preying on Blacks?
Jon Sopel BBC Presenter
Reporter throws back to Sopel in BBC studio on the day that the Sussexes’ firstborn was named; he smugly stated, I’ve a friend whose dog’s name is Archie. Smug born and bred little bigoted boor. Of course, there were no consequences for his vile remarks. What gives?
Constantly yammering away with the shrill hatred, inciting anti-Black racism and does so in the smug conceit that they will never be challenged for being Jewish. Yeah Tom, why don’t you, since you do not exclusively write royal biographies, turn your unbiased eye and tell the story of the Falasha genocide in Israel. That’s right, the forced sterilisation of Black Israeli Jews from Ethiopia who had their numbers reduced by 50% because they were Black and for no other reason. As for Angela Levin, she has seriously insulted the Sussexes in print time and again, whilst claiming to respect the House of Windsor. She has repeatedly referred to Henry & Meghan’s daughter Lilibet Diana as Lilibut. You fucking crass anti-Black racist Jew. Having grown up in the Caribbean with three maids with a very proud mother who fiercely instilled pride and inner fortitude in her six children; looking and sounding every bit my mum when displeased, I have been known to flatly shoot someone a look and brutally demand, Since when the fuck does being Jewish not make you White?
Adrien Brody Winning Best Acting Oscar 2003 Academy Awards
In 2002 Halle Berry became the first Black actress to win the Oscar for best actress. Chances are had 9/11 not occurred six months prior, she likely would not have won. Certainly, she had not been favoured to win. She grudgingly won and broke a Hollywood taboo; Black women are not good enough, beautiful enough, too beautiful to be threatening White actresses by winning a best actress award. To date more than a fifth of the best actress awards have been won by White British actresses; that’s right, an American award being afforded Britons instead of Black American women, or for that matter Latina American actresses to say nothing of other non-White actresses, Asian and Native American among them.
There she was dumbstruck with disbelief, gave a great speech but though that night the doors had been opened, up onto the stage walked Adrien Brody, grabbed her, stuck his tongue down her throat and sexually assaulted a Black woman before a global audience and thereby putting her back in her place and slamming the door, which ought never to have been opened, shut again. Adrien is, of course, Jewish and had any Black actor gone to the stage and done what he did to a White actress, to say nothing of a Jewish actress, their career would have been summarily lynched. Black men were lynched, murdered for looking at White women, accused of sexually assaulting White women, at times when in a different state at the time of the alleged assault, yet the ultimate double standard was being demonstrated. Adrien for being Jewish could do no wrong. At the time, as I watched the show live in Montréal where I then lived, the Jewish men at the party I attended were wildly celebratory and thought that it was a stroke of genius when Adrien did what he did. It was code, Adrien was telling Halle that all she is a damn cheap cinematic whore and should not have risen above her station. The clapping of the three Jewish males at that viewing party was hostile, degrading and lethally racist. There is positively no way that Adrien Brody would have taken to that stage, grabbed and shoved his tongue down Nicole Kidman’s throat thereby sexually assaulting her. That’s what you get for deferring to, fearing and never challenging persons who do not think your humanity of any worth.
Never let it be forgotten that this is how, you, perceive Blacks. End of discussion. How many biopics of Blacks displaying their creative genius in Jazz has Hollywood bankrolled? Precisely.
Tree I Planted At Age Seven In Back Garden in St. Kitts
When I was about six years old, at a time when I had multiple boy and girl friends in the neighbourhood, I had a rather rude awakening whose lessons have ever impacted on me. My then boyfriend was months older with the most beautiful smiling eyes and dimpled. We would always kiss when playing hide and seek and engage in intercrural sex, making passionate noises and kissing on the lips whist I’d breathlessly declare, “I love you, I love you, I love you, my darling.” One day, my childhood lover who passed last March, came by with a friend whom I had ever dismissed as an absolute oaf. He was dull, shy and frankly stupid. Could never be part of my little racy theatrical events and sexual romps. Then, my darlings, my dimpled lover had the shy oaf unsheathe the goods. In that moment my baptism as size queen was thorough. At once I fell to my knees and as though calling on past-life memories, the poilued and über thick beast was in my mouth. I was ravenous like a sexually ravaged nun. Before, I knew what next, life’s elixir shot warmly into my mouth. I got up, trembling and wanted this to not end. Oaf that he was, he quickly tidied himself. Imperiously, I dismissed my dimpled lover and callously told him that it was over between us; I had after all found love! I simply refused to speak to the dimpled scorned lover. He courted me, giving me a toy plane which I took but still demanded that he return with my throbbing bit of ecstasy. Days later, the little dimpled charlatan showed up at my house accompanied by his aunt with her embarrassing my mother when she demanded that her damn thieving son, return the toy plane that she had gifted her nephew. I was aghast. Naturally, I could not have blurted out that he was jealous because I had dropped her nephew for newfound, real, big loving.
View Northwest to Sandy Point from Brimstone Hill
Days later, as I made my way across the bridge to the grocers, I had been tormented with vile looks by my abandoned lover’s grandmother who sat on the stoop, smoking her pipe as West Indian women enjoying their senectitude are wont. Fearful of her, I managed to call out as one is expected to of elders, ‘Good afternoon…’ Faster than a bat at sundown, she shot back, “What? Fire your wayward lil arse. You blasted catamite!” I was so stunned and ashamed that I hurried to the grocers which by the time I arrived, I was crying my eyes out. The matriarch, whose granddaughter was a classmate and in time would become high commissioner in London, sternly told me that I was not to fear anyone. “Listen to me, you go back and let her know if she ever talks to you that way again, you’ll tell your mother!” Indeed. On my return instead of walking on the opposite side of the street, I paused and hissed at her, “You ever talk to me like that again, and I will tell me muddah!” She trembled and fell silent and that was that. I never thereafter lost sense of who I am and whose son I was. Fear no one could best describe my mum than anything else. Most of all, I learnt that day that shame merely gets in the way and is an utter waste of time.
And now, we eagerly await voraciously devouring its 400 plus pages and in the next blog, I shall give a most thrilling review of SPARE, Prince Henry’s ennobled defence of his and family’s honour. Go on Henry, justly tell them to fire their wayward arses, you are Diana’s son and wife of the very indomitable Meghan who previously was Margaret Beaufort.
Henry & Meghan, Duke & Duchess of Sussex, June 2022 St. Paul’s Cathedral
Dizzy Gillespie Quintet, Massey Hall May 1953, Toronto Seminal Live Jazz Recording
Dizzy Gillespie – Trumpet
Charles Mingus – Bass
Bud Powell – Piano
Max Roach – Drums
Charlie Parker – Saxophone
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Fuck you, Jazz is Black culture, the hell with you!
As ever, life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!
“What Didn’t You Do to Bury Us But You Forgot We Are Seeds.”
HM Queen Elizabeth Sharing A Racist Gorilla Joke in Royal Documentary, June 1969
Transcript of racist Joke told by HM The Queen during June 1969 BBC documentary look at the family’s private life:
HMQEII: It’s just extremely difficult sometimes to keep a straight face. When Home Secretary said to me, there’s a gorilla coming in. So I said, what an extraordinary remark to make and unkind about anybody. So, I stood in the middle of the room, pressed the bell, the doors open and there was a gorilla. And I had the most terrible trouble in keeping… you know, he had short torso, long arms and I had the most appalling trouble… (room descends into raucous laughter, that hideous breath that Whites exclusively use when being racist towards Blacks). HM King Charles III, then 20 years old, leans back in his chair, guffawing.
This is a copy of said joke that I made, in the event that the original were to yet again be scrubbed from the Internet.
Outtake from 2021 Oprah Interview which never aired during show.
One of the most important things that the Lady Susan Hussey illumined, was the degree to which ‘others’ go to great lengths to deny the existence of anti-Black racism. Surprised then was I when of all persons, Piers Morgan whilst hosting a discussion of the event, took the position that the decision to remove LSH from the royal household toute de suite, was the right one to have taken. There were two guests, an old bizarre-looking White male who thought that LSH had dutifully served the Crown for decades (6) and ought not to have been treated this way. He, of course, attacked Ngozi Fulani and declared that she had an agendum in all this.
Piers Morgan and Guests Discuss the Lady Susan Hussey Race Row
Naturally, this too is the line that Angela Levin took, as ever that blasted Yenta has to hammer away with her anti-Black racism, making money off of hating Meghan, Duchess of Sussex. The other guest was a BLM female Briton who rather illumined the Black experience and rather articulately stated that the guaranteed response to anti-Black racism is that Blacks claiming anti-Black racism will readily be gaslighted and in effect suffer even more racism.
Actor, Wayne Robson 1970s Vancouver
Early one Friday evening in April 1986, actor Wayne Robson, his lovely wife, Lynn Woodman, Merlin and I, joined two other couples in a Vietnamese, if I’m not mistaken rather than Chinese, restaurant on the south side of Gerrard Street East, just east of Broadview Avenue where the Don River delineates between downtown and east end Toronto. Broadview and Gerrard is one of the city’s Chinatowns which easterly along Gerrard Street East becomes Little India. Charles Lawther, another actor who like Wayne had not yet begun his family was present with his lovely wife, Suzette Couture. The other couple, I had never met and was sat next to them. She was a loud, big-boned, blonde whose fuck du jour, she had just returned from a holiday in the Sun where clearly apart from tanning to excess, they fucked their brains out. Meanwhile, her husband, a filmmaker was off in Europe on location and since her young daughter was undeniably on the spectrum, she was living without a care, ignoring her daughter and on the hunt for bigger dick than she had clearly wedded. Her fuck was a wealthy, South African Jew, who was the most hairy back-and-arsed freak I had yet seen and god was he racially oppressive and acutely hostile in the extreme. We were there to celebrate Wayne’s 40th birthday. Lynn and I, for being the ordinal partners of successful professionals in their circle knew our place and got on well. I always loved going to their Seaton Street apartment which sat atop a townhouse on the east side of the street and sat at the corner of Shuter Street; it was a wonderful home with mementos of Wayne’s acting career with items from the set of Popeye and a panoramic photograph of the film set, shot in Malta with actor, Robin Williams. We got back from that dinner on Gerrard Street East and Merlin became violently sick. He was being taunted for being Jewish and being with me. More than that, he was made sick by a Jew being so hideously possessed of anti-Black racial animus. By that point, I had seen it all and simply checked out and focussed on my lover’s beautiful eyes and the exquisite fare on which we dined.
Eight years later, five years after Merlin’s passing, newly arrived in Vancouver, I stayed at Les karpinsky and his lover Ken’s Sentinel Hill home with the most spectacular views. I was there for a fortnight whilst my West End apartment was being painted and repainted and smudged before I took full possession. One evening, a new friend of theirs came to dinner; he lived on the Sunshine Coast and was an expat South African Jew. As I was no longer Merlin’s significant other, which meant having to hold one’s tongue rather than not, after spending too much time blithering about everyone and everything Jewish, our dinner guest trained his scathing anti-Black racism in my direction. Naturally, much of his banter was about Steven Spielberg’s film the year prior, Schindler’s List. When asked by Les if I had seen the film, I very elegantly, murderously, dismissively, unflinchingly stated that since I am a keen student of American history and interested in only genuine American history, as Auschwitz is not in America, I saw no need to thusly engage. Our expat Joburg Jew readily acted as though I were Himmler returned. Ken who never countenanced confrontations, began clearing the dishes from the table and said he was not feeling well and wanted to go to bed. By then, Ken, Les and I spent most of our time in bed whilst great music saturated their home though not successfully drowning out our salaciousness.As our racist guest, enraged and bothered, abruptly took leave, cutting the eye at me, I bluntly stated, be sure to bring a map of America bearing Auschwitz, Treblinka and Dachau on your next visit and educate me. Having sat there uncomfortably with Ken and Les as the expat South African Ashkenazi Jew blamed the evils of this world on Blacks, chiefly South African and American Blacks, Afro-Sephardic yours truly was sure to succinctly give as fucking good as I had gotten.
Ken and Les apologised and assured me that they had no idea their new friend was such a piece of work, though, Ken did say that he had encountered that kind of intense racial animus from Jews towards Blacks and though it bizarre. Certainly, Merlin definitely did as well. The only time that Merlin ever got mad, was when someone Jewish was on TV openly inciting anti-Black racism. At such times, Merlin would become so upset that he would abruptly get up, scratching his beard at the chin and storm from the room with a weary, loud sigh. Still, at other times, Merlin would hurl whatever book he had at hand, tossing it at the TV and demand that I change the channel at once. As though to embalm ourselves from all that hideousness, after having assured Ken and Les that I was not the least bit upset and they gave assurances that the racist boor was dead to them, we were soon indulging in sexual play like stressed Bonobos. Reaching back, I held Ken’s head in place and twerked like Cardi B. as his tongue behaved as though a famished hog’s set loose in a truffle patch, “Yeah, that right, keep your fucking tongue right there!”
Camilla Tominey Justifiably Getting Served Her Racist, Lying Flat Arse
This woman who is truly, hideously clit-nosed had the temerity to attack Meghan, a Black woman, as though there are no other Black women on the planet. Camilla floated the lie that Meghan made Catherine cry and thus began the avalanche of anti-Black racism that has seen Meghan emerge as the most hated Black woman in history. To date, there have been 246 thousand plus articles by the British media, attacking Tungsten each hundred thousand for the number of years, 246, that America violently threw off the yoke of British imperial oppression.
Just like George Floyd, Meghan, Duchess of Sussex plays her role in this the 250 year cycle as Pluto transits Capricorn and violently sets aright that which needs to be dismantled and abolished. She is lancing the bile of 400 plus years of slavery that was officially begun by HM Queen Elizabeth I, who was Margaret Beaufort, Meghan’s soul in a past life’s great-granddaughter, and now culminating in the too-long reign of HM Queen Elizabeth II.
Now let’s explore what is at the heart of all this. The Waleses with their 9-focussed numerology plus the fact that they are task companions, would definitely have been behind the push to oust the Duchess of Sussex from the royal family. They would clearly not have allowed Harry to marry Meghan if they were in the Queen’s position. As events have validated, the Waleses and the Courtesan Queen have their backers whose directives they diligently obey. Of course, the Queen sanctioned the marriage as it would be good for her legacy and the racist Waleses, formerly Cambridges, had no intentions of touring a predominantly Black commonwealth nation and only finally did after Meghan and Harry were driven out and the Queen was dying of cancer.
June, 2018, a month after the Sussexes’ wedding, where the buffoon openly ridiculed his sister-in-law and her Black heritage. Naturally, William was in Jerusalem for his paternal great-grandmother, Philip’s rather ape batshit crazy mother who is buried in the city; or so the excuse was made. He went to the wailing wall to say a prayer directly to god as this is what would definitely get the cushim out of the family.
Ben Goldsmith
Apart from the fact that the royals are not a Jewish family, the intense animus towards Meghan from some Jews has raised more than a few eyebrows within the Black community. Of course, as the saying goes, when you know, you know. The diamond consortia whose tentacles stretch from South Africa, to Israel, to Antwerp, to London and New York City have and always will be a Jewish monopoly. This explains why little Lord Fauntleroy, who’s clearly still pissed that his wife fled his chopped up schmeckel for big Black cock, just had to go flapping his Prissy-arsed gums at Meghan’s expense. Who is this Putz, cussing out Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, calling her a bully if he were not one of the Waleses’ inner circle Jews?
Whenever someone Black rises above their accepted station, this mightily seems to threaten some Jews, not all Jews. In my experience, Ashkenazi Jews are almost violent in their open anti-Black racism. Just look at this woman, Orly Taitz, who told lie, after lie, after lie, followed by absurd litigious campaigns to prevent a Black male, Barack Obama, becoming American President; she can of course be credited with having given that treasonous conman and buffoon ideas and the rest is history.
Seriously, what is driving these persons to obsess and want Meghan dead. Tom Bower declaring on-air, it’s her (Meghan) I’m after. Bethenny Frankel spewing hatred when she hasn’t spent a minute, exploring the racism to which Meghan was subjected – not that it would matter in the least. Of course, there is a reason for all this. One must never be criticised but definitely one always has the right to incite anti-Black racism without Blacks daring to challenge such persons. Gathering like vultures, there’s a mounting and ubiquitous presence of the aforementioned and others like Maureen Lipman, Claudia Winkleman, Howard Stern and Richard Quest. Meghan’s presence has ‘others’ attend court as though to stake their claim and make it clear that one matters most and ought not be side-lined.
Falashas have been Jewish since long before converso Europeans became Ashkenazi Jews. Imagine, the state of Israel, committing genocide without so much as one nation on the planet, pausing to shine a light and say, wait a minute, you, Israel, committing genocide? There is no terror greater than the terror of bullying others into silence. How in god’s name do you justify targeting and sterilising the Black Ethiopian Jews, living in Israel, leaving their population diminished by 50 percent? Then again, why should one be remotely surprised? Apartheid existed not for the convenience of the Afrikaner; it was about the Oppenheimers, Shapiros and other Jewish families who control the diamond mining industry. Apartheid was much like the arrangement in Nevis, which saw Brazilian Jews – of which I am descended – engaging in the cotton trade during slavery with one caveat that enslaved Blacks were allowed to will land to their descendants thereby allowing Jews to be in Nevis without technically participating in slavery. Apartheid was another system like the one in Nevis, which was used to technically get around the obvious enslavement of Black South Africans and the hellish work conditions they endure in the diamond mining industry.
Catherine, George & William at Wimbledon, 2022
One thing is perfectly clear in all of this, in 20 years time, when HM King Charles III has long given way to HM King William V, HRH Prince George, Prince of Wales will get married. This, of course, like his parents’ marriage, will be staged at a time when there needs to be a surge in economic activity, boosting the kingdom’s wealth. Without doubt, all the grandstanding and vitriol being orchestrated here and now against Meghan, the Black duchess, will have been for one purpose only, to have William and Catherine favour a Jewish wife for George. This will the crowning achievement for Jews the world over and, of course, with a Jewish mother, thereafter the BRF becomes a very Jewish monarchy. Now it will be William and Catherine’s karma to have this whole affair blow up in their face. As with his father, William, George does have a 5 in the fourth position. This will assure that not only will he cheat on his Jewish wife but he will most likely seek to dissolve their marriage and as she is Jewish, he would be readily killed off, conveniently by accident. In that way, she stays as head of the very Jewish dynasty and her heirs affording that the Crown Jewels remain in Jewish control. If this were to happen it would occur before William’s death and after George’s Jewish wife has had royal children. In the end, William would lose the dynasty to Jews because not trusting and betraying family will be a hostile lesson to have to learn from the opposite perspective whilst still incarnate. In short, what he’s done to Harry and Meghan is likely to be returned to him via his son’s Jewish wife. Never should one be surprised by the staggering stupidity of anti-Black racist Whites.
Sam Waley Cohen
With inner circle stalwarts like Sam Waley Cohen, why else do you think there has been this global attack on Meghan, demonising her and making her the most hated Black woman in history as the Fleet Street abattoirs do as directed from the Bourbon bastard and his handlers? Meghan has been lynched like no other Black person in history as those who matter fiercely show their fealty to the future Sovereign William whose prejudice against Blacks is both readily discernible and documented. The threat of Meghan will be radically addressed with a course correction that will see the Windsors becoming a Jewish dynasty much as America’s visceral response to the effrontery of President Obama gave way to the biggest liar, buffoon, conman who proved the great White hope, though he was twice impeached and treasonously attempted a coup. So, too, will George’s Jewish spouse be seen as the second coming of Mary. Indeed, Charles and the Courtesan’s affair gave way to opportunistic King Juan Carlos, a Bourbon bastard and though not returning the kingdom to the Church of Rome, instead, delivers it up in hostile takeover to become the ultimate status of Jewish ascendancy. There will never be a single negative article about George’s Jewish Queen and the Fleet Street abattoirs will see to it that she is more loved and revered than HLM Queen Elizabeth II and all within a century of her long reign.
Hasidic Wedding
Oh my, wouldn’t that be just grand, King William V’s great-granddaughter and future sovereign’s wedding to an Orthodox Jew from one of the more conservative rabbinical families of Israel. Of course, unlike at the Sussexes wedding won’t anyone be openly ridiculing the ‘other’s’ quaint customs. This would be such sweet poetic karmic justice. As for the British tabloids, they will be most deferential to the ‘spiritually’ evolved new dynasty… so many duchies to invent.
All this because George’s father and mother, William and Catherine, are vile racists who did not want the most otiose of cushim in their midst. This probable future could not eventualise fast enough. Just like that, you lose the empire and will never get it back. Never again will the kingdom be ruled by wholesome blue-blooded protestants. Just as William has been most violently opposed to Black blood tainting the royal bloodlines, so too his handlers know that he is too damn stupid to realise that in a single generation, they are going to be able to wrestle and launch a hostile takeover of the United Kingdom’s monarchy, changing it for all time from a protestant dynasty begun by Tudor matriarch, Margaret Beaufort – now reincarnated as Meghan Markle – and changing it to Jewish dynasty with Rothschild interests as per the protestations of that blasted pussy, Ben Goldsmith.
Here were the Waleses in Los Angeles, in July 2011. This was part of their first royal tour that brought them to Canada to celebrate Canada Day, July 1, 2011. Then next they deplaned in Los Angeles where they were hosted by the Los Angeles wing of BAFTA. To date they still have not been on a royal tour to Kenya where the Prince of Wales proposed. As he is the president of BAFTA, both the Oscars and BAFTAs sneakily acquired a name change, becoming an international film awards. This enables the overwhelmingly aggressive awarding of an American acting award to Britons and for no other reasons as Hollywood is in the thrall of the Court of St. James where rubbing shoulders with aristocrats and royals is the ultimate sign of Hollywood exclusivity.
Legally, only a film festival can be open to actors from diverse countries to be eligible to be both nominated and win acting awards. The current arrangement of rebranding the Oscars international does not make it a film festival; thus, Britons are not eligible to be nominated nor win Oscars. Of course, like the diamond mining and trade in South Africa, Hollywood is not principally an Armenian industry. William as president of BAFTA ventured to Hollywood to serve the interests of British actors but chiefly, he was there at the request of the same diamond consortia who would push him to have Meghan removed from the royal family. You can take the titles all you want but you would also have to murder Harry, Meghan, Archie and Lilibet Diana to put an end to the threat they pose for being so senior in succession rank. Of course, such persons are perfectly capable of doing just that, in the meantime, they demonise the Black woman to make her and family’s elimination no surprise if it were to happen.
Just consider this, Meghan whilst a senior working royal never once wore a tiara, except at her wedding. That, I can assure you, had much to do with the power brokers who saw the Waleses lashing out and waging a campaign against Black Meghan being in the royal family. That cushim should not be allowed to wear a diamond-filled tiara. No better have the Waleses been than Orly Taitz, Tom Bower, Bethenny Frankel, Angela Levin in inciting anti-Black racism towards Meghan, Duchess of Sussex all for rising above her station. Needless to say, Princess Michael of Kent sported the blackamoor brooch as her show of solidarity with the Waleses and those Jews who were violently opposed to a Black being highly placed within the royal family. Just as Lady Susan Hussey could be removed then made to publicly apologised which was a real bit of White voodoo, so too, HLM Queen Elizabeth II ought to have stripped Princess Michael of Kent of her HRH title and had her publicly apologise to Meghan and Henry. Instead, the flat-arsed, racist snob was sat in the quire at the Sussexes’ royal wedding because The Queen will not be told what to do. Furthermore, as her cancerous immolation endured, The Queen tore her arse in the Sussexes’ faces by her antics at the Platinum Jubilee – seating at St. Paul’s Cathedral and being banned from the balcony at Trooping the Colour.
Back in mid-Autumn 1988 after Merlin had been hospitalised with his first bout of AIDS-related pneumocystis and suffered a punctured lung in the process, we were at dinner at his ‘folks’ as he lovingly called his journalist parents. Looking south out the dining room window at 36 Servington Crescent, where in summer you then got an unobstructed view of the lake dotted with egret-looking yachts, we lovingly admired the rain-blackened bark of the magnolia tree that Merlin had planted at age seven. That evening, his younger brother, with whom I enjoyed relations than can best be charitably described as hissing, thankfully was not present. Merlin’s mum always waited for his arrival before cooking dinner as he was a superior cook to her and it allowed them quality time together. As for me, I would go down to the basement and his father’s office where we would eat the best soft bread from a Lebanese bakery in the neighbourhood (Yonge Street). As Merlin pointed out, if my dad shares bread with you, you are family; this is something he also lovingly did on the occasions I attended their home when his writer colleague Pierre Berton was present – breads, breads, breads and more breads. Soon enough, talk turned to literature and writers and Barbara Amiel came up in conversation. Because of the stance she took with support of Apartheid South Africa, Merlin always dismissively referred to her as that Semite. As Merlin argued with his father, her inexcusable position was merely in support of the Jewish diamond cartel, he flatly stated. Merlin had stopped smoking Pall Mall cigarettes as they were connected to Apartheid South African and rigorously campaigned to have his friends stop smoking that and other South African owned brands of cigarettes. Needless to say, Amiel Black has chimed in on the Negro in the palace and you can bet she too disputes Meghan’s claim of racism as does Tom Bower. She nor anyone else Jewish will ever make mention of the blackamoor brooch incident as this is in keeping with Jewish denial that there is any such thing as anti-Black racism. More proof that the wagons have firmly encircled the Waleses and Prince George will have a lovely Jewish wedding, starting the shift of the kingdom from a protestant to a Jewish dynasty, which will never shift back to being protestant. Most of all, how dare that damn cushim, being more senior a royal than their engineered coup of having Sophie Winkleman marry into the royal family and to Princess Blackamoor Brooch’s son no less, which, I suppose, would make the BRF Jewish by proxy.
L to R: Me feeding a cat, actor Wayne Robson, Merlin’s brother, Merlin and his writer father in our Cabbagetown back garden, summer 1988.
In any event, Barbara is a prime example of why one should never take a position on someone and not back down. Long after Merlin’s passing, my position and I am confident Merlin’s, too, had he lived, considerably changed. I paid close attention to her spouse, Conrad Black’s trial in Chicago; I was much impressed how each day this woman got up, put her face on, elegantly strode into the court house past the world’s media and was never anything but dignified. Mr. Black did time but there is no need to have held stridently to former perceptions of her. After all, she attended a Rosedale dinner, here in Toronto, where Nelson Mandela was being feted. And that’s coming a long way after her positions in the Toronto Sun newspaper. In the end, she is wedded to the most brilliant intellect in the English-speaking world, if not the world, and for that, it would be juvenile to not admire the woman; she also happens to be a great writer in her own right. To spend a lifetime despising her for her position during Apartheid, ultimately is nothing more than ugly anti-Semitism.
If indeed Meghan were a bully and difficult, her character Rachel Zane on Suits would have been written out of the show within one season; Meghan lasted 7 seasons. There are multiple unions involved in all film and TV productions; you run afoul of anyone, the union gets involved and soon enough after investigations, you are outright fired or quietly written out of the production. Similarly, If Meghan were a kleptomaniac whilst working on Suits, merely for changing countries, she would remain a kleptomaniac in Britain. Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex has yet to be accused of having stolen the purloined Crown Jewels – though I would not put it past the fuckers.
What Meghan has dramatised to the entire world, is the damage to the psyche, indeed, the very soul of the island kingdom, that having been an enslaving, dehumanising, racist – architects of Apartheid – empire, Britons one and all have generationally suffered and become from Queen Elizabeth I through to Queen Elizabeth II to HRH Prince William, Prince of Wales. The latter’s second number of 9 (mindset) reveals him to be a bigot with an intense anti-Black racist animus.
Just look at this old fraud; she grabbed that handbag, the white gloves, the right brooch and hat, smiled and waved and the little old lady schtick only worked to her benefit. The longer she lived the more her façade dropped away, revealing her true unsightly visage. Knowing that William and Catherine were bigots, who refused to go on royal tours to predominantly Black commonwealth countries, The Queen readily approved the marriage of Henry and Meghan. After all, it would be a plus for her legacy to show how far the kingdom had come and all during her reign. Unfortunately, what she had not anticipated was the response of the Waleses; they knew that she had cancer and they wanted it made perfectly clear that they did not want Meghan within the royal family. Perhaps William saw this as his chance to avenge his mum’s murder by The Queen. In sacrificing Meghan, he was paying back a debt for his mum’s murder. The banishment of the Sussexes from the kingdom was William’s way of sabotaging The Queen’s legacy before she was dead and buried; of course, he knew damn well that the trusty Fleet Street Abattoirs would gladly blame that blasted cushim, Meghan, for Philip and Elizabeth’s deaths.
HLM Queen Elizabeth II Canker-Infested Legs May 2016, Before Harry Met Meghan
Just after her 90th birthday in 2016, HM Queen Elizabeth began showing signs of her emergent cancer with canker sores at the shins; this was long before Meghan appeared on the scene. Phillip just got tired of living a lie with the little garden gnome wife from whom for decades, he had been long estranged as everyone knew but chose not to see.
Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales Abandoning Tiara Etiquette in 2011 & 2022
Possessed as they both are of 9 in their numerological makeup, it means that William and Catherine can always be counted on to be difficult; in Catherine’s case a 9 energy body is the signature of the shit-disturber. There is a good reason why Catherine would have worn her hair down at her wedding; she was thumbing her nose at the tabloids and aristocracy, who objected to her marrying above her station and let her know it, going on a decade. It was subtle but it was not surprising for someone with an energy body of 9 and also someone marrying her task companion. She would be guaranteed to fight back. William likely did not know that she would wear her hair down and frankly he is so damn stupid that he probably paid no notice just as he did not know to remain stood in the carriage and assist his new wife in, until she was comfortably sat. Instead, he sat back to the horse, then sat properly never stood up and kept pushing away her wedding gown as she clearly sat too close to him – how could central casting have gotten this one so wrong, then again, there was a mix up in the coupling, if only Charles had done his honeymoon duties. HM The Queen who had been mentored by HM Queen Mary would have taken note of Catherine’s hair being down and not approved. One does not wear hair down when wearing a tiara… never. Going on a school run, shopping at Waitrose, yes. Just imagine if Meghan were to have done this at her wedding; of course, the campaign to remove the effrontery of her Black blood within the senior royal ranks meant that she was banished to her American homeland before having an opportunity to ever wear a tiara again.
Eh voilà, all the signs you ever needed, unless you are the blind, island kingdom cultists, who choose never to see beyond the fairy story, which got really idyllic and the Waleses the epitome of White supremacy and wholesomeness as soon as Meghan appeared at the ball. Thought they are lined up as per line of succession? There is though lots more at play in this photograph. Catherine walks a little behind and holding Louis’s hand, who does not hold his sister, Charlotte’s hand. William, though, is holding George’s hand who in turn is holding Charlotte’s.
Remember this spectacle. Little Damian Ainslie’s coming out. At no point, was he ever sat next to or held by his father, William, neither was he ever related to by Prince George as William’s firstborn is already well aware that William is not the bastard’s father. That explains why, William, in the Christmas 2022 family photograph, is not walking between both sons and holding either’s hand. Rather he is connected to George and Charlotte by handholding, who in turn are not holding hands with Louis/Damian and their mother, Catherine.
William simply has nothing to do with Louis, which is precisely why Louis acted out the way he did at the Jubilee celebrations and all that Catherine, who was down the way and not sat with Louis between her and William for comfort and anchoring him, could do, was sit there and take Louis’s abuse and sheepishly peer down at William from time to time. Instead, yet again he was sat apart from William, of whom he is likely terrified – his mindset of 9 would trigger operatic screaming which would leave Damian/Louis, who instinctually knows that William is not his father, ever fearful of the man who has clearly long ago rejected him. Indeed, during the Jubilee parade last June, 2022, Damian was sent to sit on his step-grandfather and soon to be king, HM King Charles III’s lap. Though William has his lovechild with Rose, Countess Rocksavage who cannot be explained away in public family outings, Catherine who was pregnant, could bring her lovechild with Ben Ainslie everywhere after all one would naturally assume that the child is William’s.
Charles & Diana’s Royal Wedding July 29, 1981
At the end of it all, William has been undeniably outed as the architect of the Kensington Palace leaks to the Fleet Street abattoirs against Meghan. Enough of him.
Harry & Meghan’s Royal Wedding May 19, 2018
Princely royal wedding day etiquette could not be clearer. The prince enters the carriage first and assists his wife’s entry into the carriage. This, of course, was the case for both Diana and Meghan, their chivalrous princes entered the carriage, is stood welcoming them inside and only after they are comfortably sat, is he rightly sat.
William & Catherine’s Royal Wedding April 29, 2011
No such luck when it comes to good old conceited and archly unaware Bourbon Billy. He gets into the carriage, sits rather than is stood there, not only does he improperly sits with back to horses and then shifts to the correct carriage seat, rather than is stood welcoming in his new wife to the carriage. Further, conceited Bourbon Billy thinks more of his Irish Guard’s uniform as he brushes off Catherine’s exquisite Alexander McQueen wedding gown off his uniform. Are we then surprised that as revealed by Harry, William is the controlling pain in the arse that his numerology betrays? Just look at him, eight times after Catherine was sat next to him, he edged away from her, fidgeted and acted as though she was sat much too close to him?
Lindsay Wallace & Peter Phillips Arrive by Carriage to Royal Ascot, 2022
Lindsay Wallace, 40, Scottish, divorced with two kids. Finalised in June 2021, Peter Phillips was now free to pursue Lindsay, whose Scottish father is a multimillionaire oilman. Lindsay attended Gordonstoun with Peter’s sister, Zara Tindall. She is in the family fold. Why, though, when she is neither fiancée nor wife did she arrive on day one of Royal Ascot 2022 with the then Cambridges presiding. Of course, The Queen was then dying of cancer.
The soon-to-be Prince of Wales made a point of being sociable and engaging with Lindsay Wallace. Catherine also made a point of being engaging with Ms. Wallace in the royal box at Royal Ascot, 2022. There is no sense of Catherine or William being ill at ease in the presence of Lindsay. Is it because she is not a Yank, Black, nor intelligent therefore deemed a non-threat. The way that the then Cambridges behaved and socialised with Ms. Wallace, he being welcoming of Lindsay into the fold, validates how much the now Waleses were keen on freezing out Meghan. In light of what we learnt in the Netflix documentary and the Lady Susan Hussey and Jeremy Clarkson episodes, Meghan is way too good to be in any capacity associated with these snobbish racist asshats. William’s sucking up to Lindsay Wallace for being hyper wealthy, White and British illustrates how easy it will be for he and Catherine’s Jewish handlers to readily sway this man into having George marry into the faith and thereby lose the dynasty outright.
Courtesan Queen Holding Court at Mayfair’s Murano
As the Courtesan Queen does not give a damn, she entertained her courtiers at Mayfair’s Murano. What does she care about revealing her hand, she has gotten what she wanted by bullying it out of the cancer-stricken Misogynist Queen. She is Queen Consort, sorry, Courtesan Queen.
Courtesan Queen Hosting Vile Racists Who Have Been Open In Their Animus of Meghan, Duchess of Duchess
Mayfair’s Murano recently hosted members of the Courtesan Queen’s inner circle, which of course was a show of support after Netflix’s Harry & Meghan docuseries. Naturally, persons who have been most openly critical and racially predatory towards Meghan were in attendance, chief among them, Piers Morgan, Jeremy Clarkson and Judi Dench. Naturally, there were Jews present to the exclusion of East Indians, Chinese or Black Britons; Claudia Winkleman, Maureen Lipman. Additionally, also present were: Maggie Smith, Tess Daly, Chris Evans, Tom Parker Bowles, Tracey Emin, Hugh Bonneville.
Within 24 hours of their little kissy kissy boosh boosh, there appeared Jeremy Clarkson’s commentary in The Sun in which he fantasised about Meghan being paraded naked throughout each town of the kingdom and stoned with human faeces.
Classic Response from A Jew As Per BrandyBreath. Ignore It Of Course As Long As Its Blacks But Definitely Not if It Were Deemed Anti-Semitic.
This is not an apology, not that it matters. It is no business of Meghan’s or anyone Black what the fuck you think. You are racist scum. Go on, fuck off and crawl into your casket and rot in hell, with the Queen because we all know beyond the schtick, she was damn racist – the royal documentary of June 1969 irrefutably validates as much.
The sickness of some Whites: their every reaction to someone Black is instinctually negative, most are often never even aware that they are engaging in racially predatory unconscious bias. Trust me, your perceptions of us is just that, a symptom of your having been savagely enslaving during which time, you lost your humanity. We Blacks, I can assure you, do not care anymore than we either care or need to go lay in the Sun to look good.
How Gullible Do These People Look to Those Eager to Usurp the Crown Jewels via Prince George’s Marriage?
4 days and counting and there has been not a single word form the Courtesan Queen, Tampax King, Peggalicious Bourbon Billy and partially animated Sodden Cardboard. Why am I not surprised? Of course, in a move never indulged by his predecessor, Tampax King released a message on the eve of Chanukah; twenty years and counting down indeed.
Courtesan Queen Deplanes In Edinburgh and Rudely Abandons Protocol and Retires to Limousine
From deliberately ignoring tiara etiquette to doing as one damn well pleases. Obviously, the Courtesan Queen was relieved that the Misogynist Queen finally got off the stage. Don’t you worry, just pray that you predecease the Tampax King or else you will be muzzled and crop-whipped by Catherine as well she damn well ought to. Seabiscuit aka Courtesan Queen it was, who had driven Catherine from the palace, thereby causing a break in William and Catherine’s decade-long courtship. Just look at this blasted shrew snubbing Nicola Sturgeon – who yes is a pill and half – to go sit in the limousine whilst The Late Queen’s body was not yet returned to London.
Prissy Presented At Court
In Meghan, the Waleses and the Courtesan Queen otherwise known as Seabiscuit – who clearly stormed free of the Windsor stables – were expecting to have their very own Prissy in their midst, instead they got a forthright, self-made, intelligent, articulate woman, all the things that mumbling, social climbing boor, Catherine is not. Once removed from court, though the tabloids defamed Meghan’s character no end, the royals have managed to do themselves in rather handsomely. Indeed, the grave you did for others will be the one you fall into. Meghan took a look and thought the gig absurd, they ravaged her as so many Blacks experience for being the lone Black entering into a White institution. Finally, Henry made the call and they walked. Bravo!
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Coeur de Loup Philipppe Lafontaine In Concert
After having just looked at episodes 4 through 6 of Meghan & Harry A Netflix Docuseries. Let’s just get up and shake our ass and remove ourselves from all that dross that is the House of Windsor – Victorian Misogynist, Tampax King, Seabiscuit aka Courtesan Queen, Peggalicious and Catherine with her lovechild, Damian, with Big Ben. When living in Montréal for seven years what made an otherwise hellish work experience tolerable, was the music that ensouls the nation’s distinctly unique culture. From Isabelle Boulay, to Lara Fabian, Mitsou, Patricia Kaas and, of course, Céline Dion plus so many others. Indeed, until you’ve lived in Québec, you do not truly get the soul of Canada, just as it is also imperative that you explore and appreciate the culture of First Nations peoples.
L to R: Lilibet Diana, Henry, Archie & Meghan
Bravely and rather admirably, the Sussexes have told their story. Most of all, as if I had not been intermittently crying but as the closing credits of episode 6 began rolling, the music was Nancy Wilson singing “How Glad I AM.” This is the very same Jazz music chosen for this blog’s last post dated, December 2, 2022, 6 days before the first 3 episodes of Netflix’s Harry & Meghan dropped. I was immediately reminded how I was compelled to feverishly pen the blog on November 15, 2021, a day after HM King Charles III’s birthday as the most lucid astral plane dream was dreamt the day prior, November 13, 2021. There was no mistaking the fact that the dream presaged HM Queen Elizabeth II’s death in the coming year; for this reason, I simply had to write the blog so that after the fact, no one could roll their eyes, if I were to have chosen to share the dream after The Queen’s passing in September 2022.
Tyler Perry 13. 9. 1969 Rooster 4. 4. 2 = 1
Truly, Tyler Perry is a Prince among mere titled reborn bigots who are nothing more than stewards of an ancient dynasty. Too bad though that Prince William and Catherine, Princess of Wales are on the cusp of woefully undoing six hundred years of Protestantism all because of their blind bigotry. Serves them right too.
The most memorable Nancy Wilson Jazz performance, I enjoyed in winter 1993 when Milan Newcombe and I flew into New York City for the weekend, to attend the Blue Note Jazz Club concert. Milan lived in a magical loft on Spadina Avenue in Kensington Market. He was adorably eccentric rather than crazy – who needs the drama? He was 10.5 inches of intense powerful sex. Though I rarely bottom, I most definitely never bottom for any cock less than 9.5 inches. Milan and I had spent a glorious weekend in May 1992 in Montréal where we attended the 350th anniversary of the founding of the city. I spent the evening walking the city streets where the night time parade coursed down Boulevard St. Laurent, the city’s main drag. Milan that afternoon had decided that we had to attend the parade in masks and costumes, all of which we found at a costume shop at St. Laurent and rue Ontario Est. He insisted and as he was such an exciting lover, for the first time, I wore six-inch black patent leather Bally talons hauts (high heels) thus giving birth to at least a dozen of my known 72 personalities – this an aunt declared of me on a visit to Nevis; the wife of an uncle whom no one liked, she was without pretentions and ready to set the record straight on everything – she was great fun and we got on riotously well.
We sat close to the stage and dined on delicious fare. I had a bit too much Cointreau but as ever, Nancy’s performance was sublime. On our return to Toronto, though Milan’s music library exceeded 1000 recordings and spanned 3.5 centuries – most of it harpsichord recordings and yes he did have a harpsichord, which he played nightly after noisily ploughing me into sweet surrender – we listened to Nancy’s recording of How Glad I Am. Indeed, I had introduced Milan to Jazz, which he voraciously explored, listening to various recordings late into the night. Naturally, he was smitten with Oscar Peterson whose trio we caught one cold wintry evening on Bloor Street West, in Yorkville’s Bermuda Onion. On occasion, Milan managed to play some of Oscar’s recordings on his marvellously magical harpsichord, late at night in his purple-interiored salon lit throughout by candlelight.
Oscar Peterson Trio Live in Denmark 1964
C Jam Blues
Oscar Peterson – Piano
Ray Brown – Bass
Ed Thigpen – Drums
Listen to you, talking shit about Jazz has its roots in Klezmer; then again that gold and diamond thieves are liars should come as no surprise. Jazz is the music of the people whom though enslaved – one continues to make money off (Meghan by way of peddling anti-Black racism) – openly revile, hate and vilify, our spirit remains indomitable. We are a people whose spirit you’ll never break because Jazz, like all great art, cannot be mined from veins of vile, racist hatefulness.
As ever, Life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!
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
As ever, Life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!
Will you just look at that, the Enola Gay’s cargo bay doors have opened! Incoming! This calls for a Fortnum & Mason hamper; this is serious tea!
Numerologically, these are the numbers for SPARE & HRH Prince Henry’s war with the Windsors. 10. 01. 2023 Tiger 1. 2. 9 = 3. The first royal memoir by a royal rather than a kiss-me-ass royal biography by one of these blasted sycophants who could never, unlike Harry’s memoir, have their specious drivel simultaneously launch in 16 languages.
1, energy body, this is a warrior soul with a score to settle. He is going to, like every mature soul and warrior soul, wage a campaign that is all about restoring his honour. Now that The Queen and his and Meghan’s entity mate has departed, he will feel positively no qualms about producing the receipts. 1 is in your face and brutally raw and uncompromisingly truthful. Like me, Henry has an attitude of scepticism; we are blunt, upfront, confrontational and will be unrelentingly vituperative at the drop of a hat. Harry is into this to protect his family and that means, defending his wife who was racially attacked by HRH Princess Michael of Kent with her unbelievable bold racially predatory, offensive blackamoor brooch worn for all the world’s media to see to The Queen’s 2017 Christmas lunch at Buckingham Palace.
Mind of 2. This is someone that has much to say and will be most indefatigable in prosecuting his case! Not the least bit surprised should be anyone that Henry’s memoir runs past 400 pages. Also, a book that’s dropping on a day when the mind ruling it is two, this means that it is ruled by all that is rapid fire, quicksilver, brilliant. Most of all two is associated with artisan souls and there is no soul more nimble, strategic and clever than an artisan. Artisans input on 5 channels. Meghan is an artisan soul as was Diana, Princess of Wales. You will never win in a campaign against the intellect of an artisan. We may seems spacy but long before we head off to do battle, we have gone through plans A through Z where mere mortals simply will vet from plan A to D at most. Artisans are complex and are always misjudged, illegible.
Slaves and priest souls input on two channels. That would be the late Queen. The fact that she had seven in the second/mind position means that she read people with uncanny accuracy. Also, The Queen could see auras, the dead and all that beyond-the-veil arcana but she would never disclose this to any one save lifelong ladies-in-waiting and only a few of these persons. Warriors, Kings and Scholars input on one channel, this can leave such souls as coming off at times as thick but they are superior strategists and also more than passingly confrontational. Prince George is a King soul, which is most rare. Catherine, HM King Charles III, Prince Philip and Prince Henry are all warrior souls and all mature souls. I suspect that HRH Princess Anne Princess Royal may also be a warrior soul. Both William and Camilla, Queen Consort are scholar souls – I cannot stress enough how utterly arrogant and stubborn such persons can prove. Artisans are paired with Sage souls on the expression axis; however, sages input on three channels. This greatly facilitates live performance artists being able to channel through the creator’s vision by speech, song or dance. Creative artists are more often than not artisan souls; however, Pablo Picasso was a seventh young soul warrior.
Life path of 9, Harry’s memoir’s will be a campaign of high flying ideals and righting injustices, whether it is his mother, Diana, Princess of Wales’s murder or his wife, Meghan, Duchess of Sussex’s lynching as the most hated Black woman in history. Henry will be unsparing in defence of his high ideals. Lastly, with a destiny of 3, the number which rules media, publishing and the written word, quite remarkably, Henry’s memoir will go down to be just as revolutionary as HM King Henry VIII creating the Church of England rather than being at the mercy of the Church of Rome. Henry’s memoir is going to, for the first time, cause the public to turn on the tabloid media which has been predatorily harvesting off the royals and no single royal earns the tabloids more money than his wife, Meghan, Duchess of Sussex. They make billions in inciting anti-Black racism towards Meghan and at no time do any of these entities, tabloids and alleged royal experts ever mention the racism to which Meghan was subjected. If you think for one nanosecond that HRH Princess Michael of Kent’s blackamoor brooch incident was a singular, isolated incident then you truly believe that that blasted anti-Semitic idiot actually walked on water rather than on a Plexiglas runway an inch below the lake’s surface.
This campaign is masterful. No royals. No alleged royal experts, no tabloids. No one, all of whom are the Sussexes’ detractors, and sworn enemies as that vile Jewish anti-Black racist, Tom Bower recently admitted, “It’s Meghan I’m after!” know what Harry delivers in his memoir ahead of the general public. SPARE will callously lay bare the hideous underpinnings of the British monarchy: tabloids, courtiers, household staffers, royals and their need to prey on others whilst turning a blind eye to the antics of other royals. Cutting the Sussexes loose after the contents of Harry’s memoir become global headline news, will only further expose their duplicity. The tabloids will be exposed for what they are: the trolling, lynching, race-baiting agents of the BRF.
Here’s to the Sussexes as they go forward from strength to strength. After SPARE, let’s hope the British tabloids would stay in their provincial backwaters and focus their attention on the real tea, as there is no “there” there for them to truthfully report on with regards the Montecito ducal family. Go on, report on Catherine and Sir Ben Ainslie and could little Damian be their love child as William has his own love child with the Chatelaine of Houghton Hall. And what of Charles and his teddsie wedsie, what does he suck on when cuddling with his teddy whilst Camilla broods at Ray Mill and his equerry keeps him stiff with drink, warmth and jousting that stirs the birds in the topiary close by. Indeed, who pegs whom and is it reciprocated… now no longer at Anmer Hall clearly it continues but definitely not at Adelaide Cottage. Think of the billions you could be making for merely telling the truth rather than inciting anti-Black racism as you have fiendishly engaged the past six years of lynching season. For everything there is a season and sooner or later the truth reigns above it all.
Continued success to Meghan, Duchess of Sussex on her Spotify podcast, Archetypes. It is a beautiful exposition of a superior intellect. Too, congratulations on the nomination at this year’s People’s Choice Awards.
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Natalie Cole Take A Look Album – Let There Be Love
Never mind Q’uoontifah & that lost anti-Semitic idiot, I damn well love being Black every moment whether lucidly awake in dreams or when awake!
As ever, Life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!
These utterly stunning dream experiences occurred on Thursday, February 16, 1989, whilst the Moon transited both Cancer and my second house.
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I was on a street and just beyond the other side of the street was the edge of a cliff; it looked down into a distant valley. It was very sunny out. I was seated in front of a house.On my right was a man who had come home from work in a car. He looked very Italian except that he seemed to be very hirsute – as though he had quite dark skin.However, on closer inspection, he turned out to be rather hirsute. A little later on, he came outside again. His neighbours were looking at him, kind of strangely, like they weren’t already accustomed to looking or reacting to him in a strange manner.
He sat down next to me outside, on the neighbouring bench to my right, both of us with backs to the neighbours. He turned and looked at me and his face was rather ape-like.It was the colour black and his hair was quite different. This man had a long widow’s peak and his face was literally the colour black. It was quite ape-like. He said nothing. More than that, he seemed rather friendly and nice.Along that street, there were kids when a car had pulled up. They were very teenage kids – all boys. A boy came out further along and returned to join one of his companions.
Then it turned out that his companion was in a car that was black and seemed to move, as it were, on air-cushioned rubber wheels. This black car of his was rather aerodynamic.After his friend took off, he then – this is the little blond timid guy – went over towards the cliff. Directly in front of the hirsute ape-like man, who was seated to my right, the blond guy went into the bushes.The young guy turned out to have been his brother – that guy who looked like a twin of his or resembled a brother. They hung out together and then he went moving on.
As he passed me, going from right to left, a friend of his was coming down the road. The road had a curve in it and went steeply up a hill. The hill, in fact, looked like the hill at Toronto’s Prospect Cemetery on the south side of Kitchener Street. His friend came down and he was wearing a helmet because he had been on some sort of vehicle. He removed the helmet, carrying it in his right hand, as they greeted each other.Strangely, they greeted by grabbing each other around the hips and rubbed their crotches together, joked and laughed. In essence, they engaged in clothed frottage.
I thought it interesting that two males would engage in open sexual play, however, this seemed the natural standard way of greeting in this culture. Clearly, this was a sign that this was not exactly Kansas.I had the distinct impression that the twin blonds had gone into the gorge to do drugs. As they were blissing out, only the crown of their golden mops was visible.They were using the very intense lushness of the rolling hills, in the valley way below, as a stimulant. Everything here was so pronouncedly healthy, even the star that shined seemed more intense and pure than Sol.I carefully looked at some of the trees and realised that they were bonsai, furry, mossy centuries-old plants that seemed to hum at a frequency higher than their arboreal counterparts on Earth.
I was able to zoom into the plants in the valley way below and experience them in intimate close-up. Of course, this I accomplished whilst remaining seated on the bench where to my right on another sat the über-poilu, intensely warm, handsome ape-like man.The helmet was the same black, light, metal-plastic alloy material as the car. It seemed to have the ability to absorb the intense sunlight, which was not scorching, and cool the interior.The blond who greeted his Italian-looking helmeted friend – they were all, incidentally, the same hirsute ape-like stock as the jet-black man seated to my right – had patted the car as he moved around its rear into the road to meet his dark-haired friend.He had patted the car much like one would a trusted horse. At that, the car had hissed and lurched to the road from its hovering stationary position a foot off the ground.
Later on, in the second dream, I was still on the same street. There were all these little kids. They were on skateboards. They came down about four, five, six, of them – little guys. One of them was Black. He was quite light-skinned. They were from a high social class. They were very friendly and nice and I warmly interacted with them.However, they were quite reserved and it wasn’t as though they weren’t friendly. As I was a stranger, for that reason, they kept me at bay.On the lower part of the street, where I was with them, it was clearly a cemetery. As far as cemeteries go, it was quite different an arrangement. It had quite large tombstones in it – monuments.
There was one woman there in black who was seemingly Italian. She was carrying on; she was grieving by this one monument. It had on it a very interesting design and some of the graves were fresh.I explained to them, the little boys, that this was where one went. However, then one came back from there and was able to live a life again like they were now living.I explained to them in those terms, however, I did not force them to look at funerals. People’s focus on funerals as the end and fear of death was the trap, I explained to them.
In this the third dream, I was under these hugely tall trees and was working at the time. Clearly, I had been working for someone like Pete Wilkens or someone like him.I had left a shovel around. The shovel had been left about and from a long, long time ago. This was on the grounds of a park-like setting where there were lots of skeletons about. The skeletons were covered with a whole bunch of ants. It was strange because it seemed as though the bones were the remnants of lunch and had just been eaten.They seemed like the skeletons for fish except that the head bone of the fish – skull – was quite flat.
The head had three sides to it and the skeleton was again a narrow filament that had two identical spines that trailed the unusual-looking skull.The skeletons were quite white and were flexible like the white cartilage of a chicken breast. There was a bunch of ants all over them.I might also add that these flexible, double-spined, fish-like skeletons were covered with ants that were quite feathery and lumpy. These ants were almost like miniature tarantulas because they were so bulky, dark, rich and, in a way, nice to look at.
There was a shovel sitting about and I realised that I had left it there, when I worked last time which was some time ago, last season. However, nobody had actually moved it because it meant that it was my responsibility to have moved it.So I ended up moving a couple of rakes – they were, in fact, more like pole saws. When trying to clear the space, I took them from one area to the next.I must say that I was quite struck by the face of that particular man that I did see, whilst he sat on the neighbouring bench to my right, in the initial dream. Even here in another dream entirely, I kept seeing him in my mind’s eye.
The fourth dream found me going back to an apartment where Merlin and I were living together. There were ants all about the apartment.I told him,“You have to get out and go away for a while so I can clean away the ants.”I then went about disinfecting the place and got rid of the ants. I was even disinfecting beneath the floorboards… everywhere.Owing to his being full-blown with AIDS, I did not want Merlin being exposed to the harmful chemicals in the disinfectants. That, certainly, could have resulted in horrific consequences on his vastly compromised immune system.
With the fifth dream, I was in a large department store. There, I saw Isis da Braga who was there to buy a scarf. At the time, I was with two males; it was a Gay situation.Owen Hawksmoor was talking to someone who had a very large nose. The man to whom Owen spoke was Black. He seemed like we vaguely knew each other. He seemed, in fact, like Don Baxter.However, the face on this man was black and had hues of red in it. Not the colour black but as Black people look. More than that, such that it looked like the nose of an animal’s would like an aardvark or some such, the nose on this man was more like a snout.He wore white; both he and Owen did. There was some function, that one had to go to, for which Owen had complimentary tickets.
These two people, whom Owen and I had encountered, were saying that they did not know where their complimentary tickets were. I said that I knew I had mine. Anyway, Owen left them and went back up a flight of steps.It was quite light out, up the staircase, as though there was a skylight hung high overhead. Owen moved on and I went in search of Isis who had passed by. She was quite embarrassed, in fact, at seeing me with my arm about a Gay person.She went in and picked up a scarf and the scarf was worth 52$, I think, because she was putting down the balance of the money – the other half – 26$. She was there shopping.It was a black scarf and it had beautiful… the borders were red and green designs. It really was quite nice. I came and leaned on the counter and said hello to my sister.
She was reserved, cool and detached. She turned to me and was beautifully made up and looked very young with beautiful, flawless, flawless skin.She spoke about the fact that she did not go shopping with me anymore. She insisted that my accusation that she did not go shopping with me anymore because I was with men was not true.She was wearing a beautiful mustard-coloured jacket and a scarf about her neck. Indeed, she was quite well-off.
*The thing about these unusually droopy noses is that they looked as though this was a race of extra-humans (extra-terrestrials) which had evolved from simian mammals who were descended from proboscis monkey stock rather than not. It is a race of primates native to Borneo and the faces of those simians are rather human.This is how this man and others in this dream would appear. However, it was more than that look. END.
In the sixth dream, I was in an office that was like an indoor greenhouse. If you like, it was a mausoleum rather than greenhouse. It was sky-lit and there were a lot of caskets about. Some of them had flowers and some of them did not.When you came in, you went down some stairs and into a more open area. There you saw a burial crypt. It was an indoor burial crypt. There was a man about as well as a grand piano.Whenever the employees of the place came in, there was a woman standing about and she would excitedly say,“We have to go out, we have to go out.”I was with those little children, from the earlier dream, who were skateboarding and whom I had instructed earlier about the whole idea of reincarnation. These children were mostly White. We were also being hustled out of the place.
The woman then said,“What is he doing? There is not another service. Why is he trying to start up that piano?”The man at the piano was large and bent over and he looked somewhat out of place being there. Before we could be ushered out of the place, I managed to run up and put some flowers – some yellow flowers, on one of the brown caskets that was there.
*He was inordinately tall and hence drooped over a lot. Whilst seated at the grand piano, his towering height made it look as though an adult seated at a dollhouse piano. Too, he was inordinately pale… END.
As we were going out, the procession was coming in and people were being hustled in. It was quite a fast procession. I stuck around and tried to see the place and see why there was so much hustling.There and then, it turned out that I saw the casket. It was very flat and plain and I thought,‘Well why is it being hustled out? If it’s a funeral why would the relations be so ecstatic?’However, it turned out that because the burial box was so flat I thought it was going to be cremated. It turned out, however, that it was for the office. There was going to be a surprise party.
It was actually a cake. It was covered up in wonderful, colourful wrapping paper. There was going to be a celebration and those were all the workers from the company. The atmosphere was quite nice and friendly.
In this the seventh dream, I was in a very, very large and busy restaurant where I ordered myself a bowl of soup. I was going to go upstairs to the bathroom but I had my bowl of soup in my hand.It was very Gothic-styled. It seemed, in fact, like the inside of a château. It was in the Gothic style except that the walls were rose granite – rose-coloured granite. It was, however, rather smooth-surfaced.I then accidentally spilled my bowl of soup. The waitress who had come to my aid was dark-haired – short, dark hair. She looked like a dancer who danced with the Winnipeg Contemporary Dancers when I was living in Winnipeg – the one who was Lebanese and had had a back injury.
Anyway, this waitress went off and I was waiting there being quite embarrassed. I was trying to rush to the toilet. I asked someone where the toilet was and they said,“No, no, not upstairs.”It turned out that the washrooms were, in fact, to the rear. So off I went to the bathroom and I was quite embarrassed. I tidied up myself and I came back out and my white cotton pants – nice, beautiful trousers; they were baggy but they came in tight and folded in a pleat at the end at the hem – were quite stained by the soup.It was a dark sort of pea soup. A dark brownish fare, like a lentil soup, it was. However, it was not like a lentil soup because it was red.
I was trying to ask this man to move, in order to get by him, en route to the washrooms. There was a couple behind a man and they were very lovey-dovey.The man had to ask them to get up to let me get to the bathroom. He did not want to get up or anything like that but he finally realised he had to get up. So he basically moved and he was quite unusually blond.Everybody in this place was very unusual-looking. They had extraordinary features about them. They were excessively good-looking but they had an outstanding feature that made them seem Thothesque.Again, noses here were very long, droopy and bent over. Their noses were almost beaklike in that sense. That was the extraordinary thing about that jet-black skinned man, in the initial dream, as well as this blond man who had the same feature.
Humanoid with exact nose as this Proboscis Simian
These persons were all exceptionally tall. They were each on the other side of seven-plus feet. Also, they were so über-poilu, it made it look like they were either jet-black when Black or yellow-white for being blond.Finally, he did move and when I was leaving, I looked at him. He was looking down at me because I was out of sorts, out of place, being there. Standing before him, he really did tower over me.Clearly, these persons were EHs – extra-humans or ETs.Another person had come by and tidied me up. He busily got me back to where I was seated. Then he had mumbled something like, “Why don’t you get out of here real fast?”
So I went out into the vestibule and I was waiting and waiting for the waitress to come by because I wanted to pay her for my bowl of soup. I think it was going to be $3 or something like that.Isis just said,“Why don’t we just get out of here?”We were waiting out front and it was busy so I finally got out. However, I was arguing and said,“That’s not the point of it.” I strongly felt that I should be paying my way. So I thought to just go back and put down my money on a table somewhere – I would feel better.However, I did finally leave, after having been more or less harassed by Isis without having paid. She was asking, “If you can save the money, why not save it?” that was her attitude.
When we were leaving there was a tall, enormously tall, man. He was White. Again, he had the same beaklike nose and there was something about his face that I found immediately sexual. His face was intensely sexualised.I was going to indulge and not leave because I so wanted to explore this man. However, Isis hustled me out of there.
Dream eight found me in the streets. I was walking with a baby – a little Black baby who was light-skinned. I carried the baby on my shoulders.It was rather nice. This time, out on the street, it was dark out and it was night time. This place we went to, that was quite busy, was bustling with lots of wonderful, wonderful people. It was very cosmopolitan here. A brief dream it was too.
I next found myself in a ninth dream experience that had a great deal of uproar and tumult to it. There were figures in black who were part of some sort of religious sect. These persons were just alarmingly fanatical.They were terrorists and they wore black. They had some sort of insignia on their bodies. As a matter of fact, they were looking for me; there was no mistaking that fact.I was in what would be Catherine Angelica Montpelier’s yard. I was trying to hide out there. There were, somehow, attempts to get me out.Then there was this truck which the people who were like security guards used. I was told where to find them and where they weren’t.
So I went into this yard and it seemed like part of Catherine Angelica Montpelier’s property and the neighbourhood in Crab Hill, Sandy Point, St. Kitts. However, it was differently set up here.There was an Indian-looking girl – Amerindian-looking and not Dravidian. She, too, had a beaklike nose and I tried to explain to her,“Well look, you know I’m being pursued…”
“Oh yes!” further, she made reference to the fact, “Oh yes, you’re the one who killed Bob… or somebody.”Up on the roof was like Bob’s brother, whoever Bob was, but it wasn’t a name that I recognised. His name was Bob, however; it was Patrice Wellesley, of all people, who was keeping a lookout.He was supposed to notify the guard-like people. I intuitively knew that on the far side of the wall, of the place where I was hiding out, was a guy and a girl. She had very long black hair and was quite militant. They were looking out for me and talking.
I was telling the Amerindian-looking girl with the Thothesque nose, who was talking to me and dropping pieces of information, to just shut up and calm down, “You don’t need to say everything and carry on and on.”However, she still kept on blabbing away.I then managed to go around the side of the house. She was with her sister and they were playing some sort of game. So I thought to actually go around, to the front of the house, to ask her who her sister was.I then went around to the front of the house and there was her sister who seemed like Diana Nottingham – with whom I modelled at OCAD and did that pose with her at OCAD that Olaf Nordstrom had painted.
Anyway, she was quite wonderfully made up in whiteface. As though she were a Kabuki actor/actress, she wore white pancake makeup. She was, in fact, an actress. She was waiting to go on and perform a role of hers.It was quite interesting because she was, in fact, filling me in on what was going on,“In point of fact Arvin, you know, basically someone died because in self-defence in a rumble with them… it was just a lazy man about town, an idler and a drifter.”He apparently ended up dying because, during some sort of attack on me, as I was defending myself he was accidentally killed. As a result, I was on the run and there was a plot – the militant group was out to get me.
Immanuel Methodist Church, Sandy Point, St. Kitts
She told me that what I could do was go behind the Methodist Church in Crab Hill, Sandy Point, St. Kitts. The place, however, was set out as if a mélange of Crab Hill, Sandy Point, St. Kitts and elsewhere.So she told me to go across the railroad tracks. On coming around, I would be able to come home free to my home in Crab Hill. However, she pointed out that all along the route there were the same guards – militant fanatics.However, I just had to play it safe. She confidently assured me that they could be headed off. I was grateful for her advice and took her directives to heart.Well, low and behold, the girl – the militant sibling – came around the yard and caught me. When she caught me, I fled in escape. I went and hid behind the wall.I am not referring to Diana or one of the two sisters who had been around the backyard but there were two other sisters. These other two sisters were part of the militant group that was on the hunt for me.
The girl pulled out a weapon and it had a little blade on it. It was quite deadly and I kept hiding myself trying to extricate myself out of the place. I did so by holding up one of the sisters, in front of me, as a hostage.Someone got spliced in the left hand. I don’t recall that it was me or if it was me, I simply did not feel any pain when attacked. The vicious-looking wound had self-healed right away. I had focussed my light energies on the wound and caused it to instantaneously self-heal.Anyway, I was able to push the sister onto them. I then made my way around to the back of the house. By this time, the brother was coming around the house from the other direction.
When I say I went around to the back of the house, it was where I had originally encountered the two militant sisters. By that point, she had already called for help from the guardsman. He was somewhat ecstatic as he came around. However, this was my chance to flee. So I climbed over the fence and immediately there was a lot of plastic on and all over everything. When I climbed over the wall it was, clearly, what in the waking state would be the very back end of the Methodist Church estate.It was covered with a heavy plastic and there was a lot of wood. There was scaffolding everywhere. I climbed along the wood and the sister – the white-faced, actor of the two sisters – had told me that I could get immunity by saying that I was coming to work on the grounds or some such.
Next, I crawled along the scaffolding and looked to my left. However, this being a dream, it had semblances to being Sandy Point but it wasn’t really Sandy Point either.I realised that there were apartments, tiny apartments, which were glass-enclosed. They were all quite in disarray. People lived there but nobody seemed to be home.Here I was trying to make my escape and if anybody had seen me, of course, I would be squealed on. Then I finally jumped down, out of the ceiling-like area, because there were crates and boxes and a straw-stuffed bed under me directly below the window.I came down to an open area and there I saw a much darker version of Artemis da Braga, my niece. She was sitting wrapped with a telephone cord about her as she played with the phone.I greeted her but I did not want to get her excited because I wanted to flee the area.
Sentient Alien Land Rover
Next, in dream ten, I came out of this beautiful house and came out into a wonderful backyard. Immediately, whilst there, I saw another of those vans. There had also been a van in the earlier dream that showed how these people, the militant people, worked.They had a van and it had another little van on the inside when it opened up claw-like. It appeared that the top and the bottom, the back rather, could open up. Inside it revealed another vehicle that was covered in a brownish greasy goop. The most interesting feature of this entire affair was that, although they looked human enough, the militiamen were not human. They were extra-human. So too was the machine which, from its goopy fluids, was sentient.It was an EH species which they were using to capture and feed one to. It seemed that the machine-like EHs were, in fact, in control of the militia-type EHs rather than the reverse.
It seemed more creature than a vehicle and, somehow, this was what I was supposed to be put in when captured. These two Black men, who were guarding the house and who let me know that they were guarding the house, were saying,“Aha! Now we’ve caught you.”You know, I thought about it and there was just no way that I was going to let them capture me.‘I’ve got to get away,’ I thought.At the time, one of them was taking a pee – both these men were Black. They were quite casual about having caught me. They apparently were going to get their supervisor who would take care of me.
The supervisor came and he looked like the guy from Trinidad who had worked as a chef at the Underground Railroad Restaurant when, long ago, I worked there. He did, at least, seem like that man.This man, who was their supervisor, was also Black. He had the semblance, the air about him, of that chef but he did not so much look a great deal like him. He was rotund and fairly light-complected.He lived in the house. Rather, he did not live in the house but he was staying in the house as a caretaker. I thought,‘I’m not going to be captured. I’m not going to be caught. I can disguise myself.’
Rendering Self Invisible by Increasing Light Vibration
I immediately started accelerating my energies and, as a result, I was able to transform myself. As I upped my frequency, I heard an increase in the universal hum.I looked down at the backs of both my outstretched hands, keenly observing the intense sunlight react to my skin in a glowing sizzling manner, until my aura intensified and became visible about my body.My aura’s light grew brighter as my skin actually glowed with increasing intensity. It continued until the skin, throughout my entire body, was indistinguishable from the rest of the intense morning sunlight. When they went down the hill and came back with the guy, I was standing there right in front of the house. It was this particular, large wooden house.
It wasn’t large, for being a bungalow, but the door was large. This house was definitely not part of the landscape in Sandy Point, St. Kitts. As I looked on, the guards came bearing the portly gentleman.I was aware from the way he – the supervisor, Zen sage – was talking that he was aware that I was there. Perhaps, he could see me but the other two – the militant guardsmen – couldn’t see me.I realised what I had done: I had made myself light so that I blended in with the landscape and couldn’t be seen. I had rendered myself invisible!
I then decided that I could further transform myself. Next, I made myself into this little white piece of what seemed like string. However, it was more like nylon. It was like shiny waxed dental floss.Such that half way there was a loop in it, it was tied in a knot. It was doubled on itself so that it was, I would guess, three to five inches long at the most.I obviously was astrally projected to another world where, rather lucidly, I was dreaming and interacting with extra-humans. The dental floss-like string was the cord of light which keeps one’s astral body connected, to the waking state body, when astral-projected during sleep.
The Light Umbilical Cord Connected to Astral Body
Immediately, the caretaker guy took the cord – the wax-like cord – which was my transformed-dreamer self in his hand. It was my astral body’s cord which was left rendered visible whilst I remained invisible.He began giving the two guardsmen a walk-through of the house in which only he should have been. It was a house that was no longer lived in. It was wooden all about and very organic.It was a house that allowed for natural light to pour in. There was a skylight. The house was low in the sense that it was dug in. The house was built such that it was somewhat half-buried below the surface. In that way, it was kept cool because it was partly below-ground. All about, on either side, as you walked in every part of this beautiful, sprawling bungalow were every manner of cactus.
These were cacti that were shaped like trees that had leaves. Absolutely stunning and incredible, they enlivened the house throughout.He gave me a tour of the place with the two guardsmen, who could not see me, in tow. As he walked them back to the front door he said,“So you see, he really couldn’t be here. You go off and look for him.”He tossed me or what was my representation – the wax-looking string or my astral body’s umbilical-like cord of light – from his right hand sending it through a doorway of the house. He then went about his business and showed them to the door and got rid of them.At this point, I rematerialised back to my regular dreamer self in this dream and I was able to let on to him that I knew that he knew of my being invisible. So I called him, on another phone in the house, and I remained absolutely silent.I then telepathically shared my thoughts with him. I inferred that I knew that he was aware that I was present in the house though invisible to most. Of course, he knew that I was there but he was just not going to acknowledge my being friendly with him.The fact is that he knew that I was in trouble. He was just trying, out of the goodness of his heart, to help me out. However, he wasn’t going to befriend me or anything like that.
Sprawling Partially Submerged Bungalow
So anyway, on my own I began exploring this beautiful, beautiful labyrinth-like bungalow. The walls of it were wooden. It was a reddish wood like redwoods normally look. It had a shiny hue to it because it was polished.I was talking about it to someone, later on in the dream, and it was in fact the same guy – the caretaker – who had accompanied me at one point. I said it seemed like it was built by Frank Lloyd Wright and he said,“No. Not really…”It seemed like it but it was a different style altogether; however, it was more or less like Frank Lloyd Wright. Seriously though, it was a totally different style.So I went about exploring the place. I went in this one room that was clearly a bedroom. I opened the door and went in – it was a glass door. I went in and on the left were shelves.
There were tiny, tiny, little cacti in pots and some of them were large and some of them were blooming. They were heliotropically craning over to one side.This place had been abandoned for quite some time. However, all the cacti in the place had managed to grow quite large. They were big, bulbous, beautiful and wonderfully lifelike.The spread to the bed was turned down and discarded. It had been left just as when last used by the owner. There was a bulldog; it was not a live one but a statue of a bulldog.This person had a great deal of style and was quite successful. I realised that the owner, the former occupant, was Black. I saw the face and I can’t say that I can recall the face but, somehow, I got the impression that the face was a face of mine if you like.
Bungalow’s Debonair Former Occupant
It was interesting because when I saw the face that is basically the information that I got from looking at the face in the photo. There was a tiny time-faded photograph of a face. It was of a Black man.This was the sense that I got from it, that it was me, in fact.There were beautiful trousers about. As well, there was a large armoire with tons and tons of beautiful, silk robes that I had worn in that life.They were worn around the house by the former occupant. There were, on the bed, some clothes. Too, there was a table beside the bed.Everything in this bungalow was very organic: the bed was very organic, the desk was and even the fixtures were very organic. As well, the cloth was very organic – by organic, I mean that it wasn’t inanimate.
It was organic because it was lifelike. More than that, it was organic because it was breathing. That’s why it had lived so long because it was quite some time since last occupied by the owner.However, it was very much so still alive. The sheet and bedding, on the bed, were woollen and greyish-coloured.The only reason why I had entered the room, in the first place, was I wanted to roam – to see if there were any signs of underwear… there was. There was tons of underwear on the shelves behind me.I wanted to check and sniff his underwear, to see if he had masturbated.
Anyway, when I got into the room, that little adventure had totally evaporated. For having seen the photograph, if you like I was quite interested in exploring the place and getting to refamiliarise myself with the place.The bedroom was just absolutely beautiful. Off to the left, rather behind the shelves and straight ahead, was the closet and the bed was to the right of the door.
Down this long hallway that was sky-lit were the tables and tables of clothing. There was a door past the shelves, on the left, and it looked into more and more clothes.I then came out of there and I went about exploring all over. This time, I went to explore all the cacti in the place. There were tons and tons of them.Shortly thereafter, I was joined by Carl Leroiderien, Merlin and someone else who seemed like Mario of Paris – Mario D’Agostino, however, it wasn’t him.I had a sense of Maxime Gascoigne-de Montigny being about and Carl Leroiderien had seemed like a custodian of the place. Carl was a caretaker or curator of the sprawling bungalow which now seemed like an historic site.When he was excitedly walking everyone through the place, to show them the place, he was referring to the owner. I was there but, again, none of these people had any awareness that I was there – not even Merlin.
He was sort of filling them in on who the owner was. From what I could see, Carl was doing a good job of it.There were cacti that were tall. There were also red ones. There was one cactus that was tall and it had needles on it. It had large, large leaves and two or three leaves like those of a royal palm’s.Most of it was like a palm tree but it was like a breadfruit leaf or some sort of leaf like a maple leaf – albeit an extra large maple leaf. It was, however, cactus.Everywhere there were plants on either side of the skylight hallways. The bungalow was a series of long halls that were all connected and veered off in different directions.
However, it was a house that had basically become a living garden such that it was organic. The cacti truly were the lungs of the house. The air was really nice and it was cool.The humans were able to live with the cacti because it was a totally self-sustainable dwelling. As the light came in heliotropically sustaining the various cacti species, it added breath, depth and dimension to the space thereby making it equally organic.Too, because it was partially submerged belowground, there was a lot of moisture from underground that kept these plants alive. The cacti were quite happy and they had grown so beautifully.It was as if they were bonsai cacti. It was quite incredible how they were all over the place throughout the house.
Then I went down some steps to another open area of the bungalow. Again, there were more cacti. We moved off and came to an area where Carl said,“Oh let’s go downstairs, I can show you the basement. You can see all these wonderful things.”When you looked out the skylight area, it was of the street, the pathway into what would seem Crab Hill, Sandy Point, St. Kitts. So I immediately was afraid to be seen yet I was assured by Carl as he stilled my nerves telepathically saying,‘Oh, it’s okay… it’s okay.’I was concerned about the people, who lived across the street, reporting me to the militia-types. There was bamboo, organic bamboo if you like, that was made into a fence.It seemed like the backyard of what was the neighbour’s house and they weren’t there. I was told it was quite safe that it was okay. The neighbours weren’t there to squeal on me.
Before you went down the steps, into this other area, there were all these beautiful, beautiful organic works that are quite common in the Orient. For example there were many objets d’art.These were objets d’art which were beautiful temples and totems. They were all made from the ivory of elephants’ tusks. It was all beautifully detailed and in miniature – all the miniature designs were made of ivory.That was the sort of stuff. This particular objet d’art was large. It was square-shaped so that it wasn’t like an elephant’s tusk. More like an obelisk, if you like, it was.They were more so little temples. They were shrines and Greek temples if you like. What was truly fascinating was how incredibly detailed they were though scaled down versions of the real architectural gems.
We moved on and now we came to an area that had nothing but wares. There were lots of baskets everywhere because this was where the ornaments were kept. They were all stored therein.Carl was the caretaker of these things. He was quite familiar with every item and, again, there were bamboo basket-like wares and objets d’art.I was told that this was, in fact, like a wine cooler. It was so delicately and intricately made. Also, the item was collapsible. It could open. The objet d’art was like a valise and it could open up.Merlin went and opened it and was prying into it. It had two African skulls or heads on it and it was quite beautifully detailed as a matter of fact.
We then moved on and came into the downstairs area. This place was like a cellar. Somehow, copious rays of sunlight made it to this part of the sprawling, multi-levelled bungalow.Even though we were further underground yet, somehow, the sunlight came in. However, I soon realised that it wasn’t sunlight. It was just this light that was white and somewhat diffuse.It was quite soft and nice to the touch. Among the many stored wares, there was something that had a white bamboo-like coil. This thing had a piece of string attached to it with two yellow sticks or shoots like chopsticks.
You could insert it and it was, in fact, quite sexual. The Mario D’Agostino character immediately grabbed it up. Whilst simulating sexual play, he was playing around with it.He was making noises filled with sexual innuendo and then said,“Umm, get undressed and put it on your cock because that’s what it’s made for.”Oh he was so happy to perform and went off to try on the item.
*Here now, some further comments set in the dream in the beautiful house. Here, the atmosphere in this house was one of serenity and it was a reflection of that particular life that one had led whence the proprietor was Black.Tall and very erudite, he seemed a man of the world. He was well-travelled. He loved beautiful music and he had a collection of things in his bedroom that were totems from his travels.He was obviously tall because there were lots of khaki and white summer pants which all gave a sense of his height. When I had first entered into the room, there was also a rack that I had bumped into.I hadn’t noticed it because it was suspended from the ceiling. It was racked with leather suspenders and an enormous collection of belts: broad belts, narrow belts, as well, skinny belts.
There were all kinds of beautiful belts. They were very expensive and they were also very organic and ancient. They weren’t brand new any of them.It was all a reflection of the person’s spirit. You never met the person but you knew the person through the house. It was beautiful and wonderfully planned out.The sprawling, organic bungalow was so multidimensional; it went off in all these directions and avenues because that was who this person was in that lifetime. In a box to call home, he was not contained or restrained.The organic house constantly veered off. It had many apartments and veered off and had many cul de sacs. There were areas where he could go and be removed from all the other areas yet be surrounded by plants.
At all times, he was surrounded by life itself and it was healthy… quite nice.Whilst at the restaurant having the lentil-looking soup, the reason for the extra-tall, obvious extra-human being impatient with me was more subtle than one may assume. With their sophisticated proboscis, it is safe to assume that smell was the most developed of this extra-human race’s senses rather than sight as is the case for we humans.Likely, there was something very off-putting to my pheromone makeup which left the seated extra-human uncomfortable. I don’t think that it was a matter of my race, Black, but my species, Earthly human, which made the über-poilu, blond extra-human uncomfortable.
As I was in his home world, he naturally felt put upon for having the unfavourable aspects of my pheromones anywhere near him. At the end of the day, he was an incarnate ensouled fragment who is one of seven soul types and with the same selection of overleaves as any Earthly human. Any Earthly human would have similarly responded to having someone of outré pheromone and species in their midst.
A very serene dream it remarkablywas. END.
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Groovin’ High, Dizzy Gillespie 1955
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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!
Michael: This fragment was a third-level mature slave –- second life thereat. Elizabeth was in the perseveration mode with a goal of dominance. A realist, she was in the moving part of intellectual centre.
Body type was Venus/Lunar.
Elizabeth’s primary chief feature was stubbornness and the secondary self-deprecation.
The fragment Elizabeth is fourth-cast in fifth cadence; she is a fragment of greater cadence six. Elizabeth’s entity is one, cadre six, greater cadre 7, pod 418.
Elizabeth’s essence twin is a slave and the task companion is a priest.
Elizabeth’s three primary needs were: security, adventure and exchange.
There are 6 past-life associations with Arvin and 4 with Merlin.
*Elizabeth is an entity mate of both Prince Harry (5th mature Warrior soul), his wife, Meghan, Duchess of Sussex (mid-cycle mature Artisan soul); these three souls have a bond that is both unshakable and unfathomable to the unaware eye.
Queen Elizabeth II, April 2021
During the early hours of September 10, whilst her body remained at Balmoral Castle, I had a lucid dream encounter with the departed Queen. Clearly, it was set on the astral plane and might even have been set at Balmoral or Holyrood House. The dream was immensely lucid and brief. She was sat in a tiny enclosed area where the walls were at least ten feet high, old stone that were time-blackened and moss-saturated in the cracks. I came to in the dream in mid-stride and realised who it was as I slowly progressed from the interior to the enclosed tiny courtyard that was no more than ten square feet. Sat, she wore a dark, pine green shawl loosely about her drooped shoulders with a predominantly white, flower-enlivened scarf well back from the crown of her head. Her lips were parted and her compacted bottom teeth were visible. Her arms gathered about her, she noticeably shivered and immediately said that it was cold. I did not find it remotely cool and it was, though beautifully lit here, not daytime out. looking off to the right, I saw a large woollen, light blue blanket; I stepped away from her and picked it up, still having said nothing.
Queen Elizabeth II
As I approached anew, I noticed that as she sat on a stone seat in the middle of the tiny courtyard, all around her a thick viscous fluid bled away from her body. It was bronze-coloured and the same thickness as motor oil. The bonze-coloured liquid seemed almost as if possessed of a dull light but a light it was, which was undeniable. Approaching her right side as she sat facing me, I reached around the blanket and was mindful to infuse the blanket with the same intense energy as when laying my hand on actor, River Phoenix’s back during our encounter within 48 hours of his passing in 1993. Frail, shrunken and withered, Elizabeth the departed Queen’s teeth could be heard as she increasingly shivered. Placed fully about her shoulders, I began stepping back away from her and she looked truly grateful. Looking at her aged blue eyes, they slowly began transforming. The Queen’s pupils began expanding, until there was neither blue nor white left to her eyes. Her hair, too, changed colour, becoming brunette with few silver hairs. Readily, I employed a tried and convenient technique. I blinked as she looked directly to me and with that, I effortlessly, lucidly awoke in the blink of the eyes.
Again, here is the dream of Queen Elizabeth’s homecoming on the astral plane. It was had on the eve of HM King Charles III’s November 14, 2021 73rd birthday. It has been my experience that when I have such awakened dreams of persons’ homecoming on the astral plane that person will pass within the year, as has proven the case for Queen Elizabeth II. I am pleased that I took the time to share that dream last November on this blog; I instinctively knew that she would pass within the year. Why pray tell would I dream of her, apart from the fact that she was the most famous human on the planet; we share 6 past-life associations which is considerable since we aren’t even from the same pod. The reason she appeared to be in her mid-to-late 40s when her metamorphosis began to the astral body is that Queen Elizabeth was a third mature slave soul.
Prince Harry Duke of Sussex 1 6 7 418 Warrior Fifth Mature
Ennio Morricone 2 6 7 418 Artisan Seventh Mature
Lilibet-Diana 2 6 7 418 Sage Third Mature
Frederik Pohl 2 6 7 418 Sage Second Old
Doria Ragland 3 6 7 418 Slave Fifth Mature
Lionel Richie 4 6 7 418 Sage Fifth Mature
Yukio Mishima 5 6 7 418 Warrior Second Mature
Archie M-Windsor 5 6 7 418 Priest Seventh Mature
Prince George of Wales 5 6 7 418 King Fourth Mature
*All mid-cycle mature lives are extremely difficult, both Meghan, Duchess of Sussex and Marilyn Monroe are classic examples on the world stage of such lives. Mid-cycle only ever occurs at the mature soul age cycle and it always falls between third and fourth mature soul age. As it is difficult, this cycle lasts on average 2-3 lives, though, it can span up to 4 lives. This is where the soul truly divests itself of young soul-focussed consciousness. There is no going back after this cycle and it cannot be made clear enough that these are difficult lives that are lived at mid-cycle mature. Incidentally, like Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, HM Queen Camilla is also mid-cycle mature but a scholar soul. This is why HM Queen Camilla always seems a bit uneasy, at times neurotic, in public but true to her scholar disposition, she is ever going to be associated with literacy and instrumental with the Man Booker Prize.
Front Row L-R: Prince George (fourth mature king), HM King Charles III (seventh mature warrior), HM Queen Camilla (mid-cycle mature scholar), Princess Charlotte (?). Back Row L-R: Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales (fifth mature warrior), Prince Louis (?), HRH Prince William, Prince of Wales (sixth mature warrior), HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex (fifth mature warrior), Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex (mid-cycle mature artisan).
Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales <10> and HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex <9> are both warriors and they are both fifth mature warriors; there is positively no way that these two would not get along; one of the reasons why Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales majored in art history is that more of the brain is used at fifth mature and onwards – it is where the realms of dreams and creativity become pronounced. Each soul level is uniquely focussed in the life lessons undertaken. Someone who is seventh mature, like HM King Charles III <?>, is vastly more old-souled than HRH Prince William, Prince of Wales <6> who is sixth mature; the difference is as vast as if Charles were late mature, which he is, and William were late young – though obviously not. Conversely, William is vastly more mature-souled than both Henry and Catherine who are fifth mature. In the above photograph here is how the Windsors stack up with regards the agedness of soul. HM King Charles III is seventh mature and thus the oldest soul of the lot, though, to be fair as neither HRH Princess Charlotte of Wales <?> and HRH Prince Louis of Wales <?> overleaves are known by me, we work with the others in the photograph. HM King Charles III is older-souled than HRH Prince William, Prince of Wales, who in turn is older-souled than both Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales and HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex. Those two fifth mature warriors are in turn, older-souled than HRH Prince George of Wales <4> who is a fourth mature king soul. Prince George in turn is older-souled than both HM Queen Camilla <10> and Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex <4>, who are not only both mid-cycle mature, they are also both on their third life at that level. Third-level lives attract a lot of animus by nature. Incidentally, HRH Prince George of Wales is an entity mate of the Sussexes’ firstborn, Archie. Archie is a seventh mature priest soul <6> on his second life. I cannot state enough how immensely radiant of inner beauty Archie is and he will always have an uplifting effect when he walks into a room. It is a testament to the Sussexes’ love that Archie’s soul chose to be their firstborn. Regardless of anything else, for being entity mates, Prince George will also relish Archie’s counsel and find true guidance when they commune; entity mates are truly family. Priest souls are rather rare only less rare than king souls and they leave a strong impression.
*<10> as in the case of Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales, such numbers in arrow-shaped brackets represent number of past-life associations shared between that person and me. HM King Charles III is in pod 404; I requested his overleaves when learning that he was an entity mate of artist Robert Bateman (seventh mature king soul) with whom George Hawken (first old artisan soul) had collaborated and often spoke highly of. Though I have high enough past-life history with HM Queen Camilla <10>, I have never once dreamt of her – it is important to note that each time I sleep, I recall anywhere from 6 to more than a dozen dreams in detail-rich lucidity. Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh (fourth mature warrior soul) <14> is a member of pod 408; dreams encounters with this man were always engaging, unpretentious and usually telepathic. Incidentally, dream encounters with Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales are also usually telepathic and three days after The Queen’s state funeral I dreamt of her – see below.
Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales
She was in a courtyard being focussed, competitive; she wore a extra thick black bodysuit that was like a scuba diver’s suit. Catherine carried a white, slightly scooped paddle and played alone with a heavy, smaller version of a medicine ball. As this was a dream, whilst she played, we telepathically communicated with me always to her left rear. She would strike the black ball quite forcefully, wherever it struck the wall, the ball would become stuck to the hard blackened wall; this gave the sense that both wall and ball were magnetised. Then without warning, the ball would be ejected with great force; the ball seemed as though a perfectly round ten-pound kettlebell. Catherine never missed the ball and she was having to duck and weave as though a tennis player, who is close to the net and therefore having to stretch, leap and quickly recover. It was always impossible to anticipate where the ball would go, it could return directly to her, actually curve away or go diagonally to the side as when a tennis player goes for an ace to the side of the court. Catherine, however, was throughout intensely focussed and would not miss a ball, thereby betraying her warrior soul steeliness. I guess at some point in the future, this game will be invented, in the meantime, the Princess of Wales was using it as it engaged and worked every muscle group in the body, which is why she wore the extra thick and tight body suit. Throughout, the suit contained ribbing that looked and behaved like the ventral grooves of rorqual whales; when the grooves expanded the rubberised-looking suit revealed white folds. When any muscle group expanded, the suit’s grooves would expand but just as readily contract back into place; this enabled the Princess of Wales to be always keenly aware of what muscles were being used or ought to have been better used – truly intelligent design. Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales here was just as powerful an athlete as Serena Williams. Catherine wore thick black gloves and equally bulky footwear that looked like shortened Wellington boots. Similarly, she wore wraparound protective eyewear that resembled a diving mask. Here, in this rather lucid dream, Catherine, Princess of Wales wore her hair gathered back from her face in a ponytail and her hair was just a bit longer than shoulder length.
Here is a list of famous priest souls and you can see that theirs is a radiance of spirit and leadership that is unsurpassed; they are all about uplifting one’s spirit: Mahatma Gandhi (seventh old), Nelson Mandela (sixth mature), Jessye Norman (first old), Barack Obama (seventh young), Yehudi Menuhin (second old), Lucian Freud (fifth mature), James Baldwin (fourth mature), Malcolm X (sixth mature), Louis Farrakhan (fifth young), Hermann Hesse (second old), Nina Simone (sixth mature), William F. Buckley (sixth young), John Lennon (second mature), Gustave Flaubert (fifth old), Gord Downie (sixth mature), Camille Paglia (second mature), Leonard Cohen (fifth mature), Marvin Gaye (sixth mature), Martin Luther King Jr. (sixth mature) – you shall know them by their voice! Obama is a young priest but his message was about hope a very uplifting priestly worldview. Priests have the most radiant and most intense eyes and they tend to be almond-shaped, regardless the ethnicity. Priests are not always all good, Hitler was a young priest because when a priest is bad, they is no soul more extreme.
*Not only are they both priest souls but Canadian musician, Gord Downie and Martin Luther King Jr. are entity mates.
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What I did not mention in the last blog was the importance of Queen Elizabeth II’s soul type and soul age. Slave souls make up roughly 25 percent of all souls and as such are the most populous soul types of the seven, which are: slave, artisans, warriors, scholars, sages, priests and kings. Slaves are the salt of the earth types; in my experience and from the hundreds of Michael overleaves that I have had channelled, Slaves souls are to be avoided at all costs. For me, a seventh level mature artisan on third life cast in 6th (priest) position in third (warrior) cadence, third (warrior) greater cadence, entity six (priest) cadre one (slave), greater cadre seven (king) pod 414, I simply do not, as a sceptic and with a chief feature of impatience, have time for slave souls and their manipulative, small-mindedness; it is also my third (warrior) life at seventh mature, which means I am more warrior than most and will be brusque about having persons honour my boundaries, especially so when I have master numbers of 11. All the ‘drama’ and brutalising “hazing” as Christina Oxenberg refers to this trial-by-fire of wives of Windsor who marry in, rather than being blood princesses, originated and was triggered by HM Queen Elizabeth II. She was a slave soul but she was also in dominance with a mode of perseverance and with a chief feature of stubbornness. The Queen, for women who married into the royal family, was exasperatingly difficult. It would have taken herculean patience to deal with her, if one were a family member and definitely if female and wedded into the Windsor dynasty. Most of all, all persons with a primary chief feature of stubbornness are shit-disturbers and they love interfering and pitting others against each other.
Entity Mates: Harry (warrior), Meghan (artisan) & Queen Elizabeth (slave), all mature souls
Of course, no one can say that Harry is fabricating when he has repeatedly stated that he shared a close bond with his grandmother, The Queen. Entity mates are family at the level of soul. Cadre mates are cousins. Greater cadre mates are like second, third cousins and in-laws, and pod mates are like the extended family scattered across the globe. The bond is less intense for pod mates as it is with the warmth and solidity of entity mates but it still exists. For instance, if the Sussexes were to attended a Lionel Richie concert, they would come away, feeling uplifted and warm. The reason incidentally why Harry & Meghan are always criticised for holding hands in public, is not only are they solidly bonded entity mates but this is their 21st lives together; they have reincarnationally been every possible relationship to date. There is no way that they would not handhold. It is part of the way that they engage the intense telekinesis between them and keep it active; they are basically melding their auras and forming a fortified, stronger forcefield around themselves. Though entity mates with high past-live contact, Harry and Meghan are, however, not task companions. If anyone of the persons listed above from cadre six, greater cadre seven, pod 418 were to read a Frederik Pohl novel, they would bond with the written word on a deeper level than say someone from pod 129.
Queen Elizabeth Queen Mother – Second mature Slave soul.
Speaking of pod 129 and in keeping with the previous blog where the Victorian misogynist persona was explored, let’s look at Queen Elizabeth, Queen Mother’s overleaves. She, too, was a slave soul like her mother, which afforded both – along with Queen Mary whose overleaves I do not know – the focussed attack for maintaining the Victorian misogynist persona. Pod 129 is a trawler’s bountiful net, straining at the seams with famous persons. I will list all the famous persons from entities one through seven of cadre one, greater cadre four, pod 129, into which Queen Elizabeth Queen Mother’s soul was cast.
Bowes-Lyon, Elizabeth 4/8/1900<O>30/3/2002 (4.3.4 = 11, same numerology as Meghan)
Michael: This fragment was second-level mature slave – fourth life thereat. Elizabeth was in the observation mode with a goal of dominance. A sceptic, she was in the intellectual part of moving centre.
Body type was Venus/Lunar.
Elizabeth’s primary chief feature was pronounced stubbornness and the secondary self-deprecation.
The fragment Elizabeth is seventh-cast in fourth cadence; she is a member of greater cadence three. Elizabeth’s entity is two, cadre one, greater cadre 4, pod 129.
Elizabeth’s essence twin is a slave and she has a priest task companion.
Elizabeth’s primary needs were: security, exchange and communion.
There are 4 past-life associations with Arvin and 9 with Merlin.
Martin Luther King Jr. 4 1 4 129 Priest Sixth Mature
Shirley MacLaine 5 1 4 129 Sage Fifth Mature
Wynton Marsalis 5 1 4 129 Sage Seventh Young
Kamala Harris 6 1 4 129 Warrior Third Mature
Yo Yo Ma 6 1 4 129 Sage Second Old
Nina Simone 7 1 4 129 Priest Sixth Mature
Yehudi Menuhin 7 1 4 129 Priest Second Old
*In a prior life, Georgia O’Keeffe was Spanish painter, El Greco. Also, a member of entity one is American scholar, Carl Sagan; I am not conversant with his role or soul age. Incidentally, it takes roughly five to seven thousand years to go from your first life on this planet as an ensouled human being as a first infant soul to seven old soul. Your soul type never changes and anyone claiming to have been alive in Atlantis has simply got an active imagination or have done too much drugs. Christ was a seventh old king on his last life; he is never coming back. Why? No one is responsible for anyone’s choices. The most famous seventh level old soul on their last life, recently experienced by human civilisation, was the scholar soul, Stephen Hawking; his soul will never again reincarnate. He did not need a hot or a fully functional body as he was chiefly focussed on dispensing all the knowledge that he had acquired over the course of lives lived, which is why his was such a brilliant mind.
*TC = Task companion. The task companion is a soul to which you are uniquely bonded. That soul is always in your entity and they are always never the same soul type as oneself. Merlin and I are task companions, he a seventh mature scholar soul and I, a seventh mature artisan with very strongly cardinal warrior casting – and I am also on my third (warrior) life at seventh level mature, which gives a very brassy “do not piss me the fuck off” bluntness.
Merlin & I Niagara-on-the-Lake, at Shaw Festival with actors, Wayne Robson & Lynn Woodman, 1987
Not only are Merlin and I task companions but that seven-year relationship in fin-de-siècle New York City and Toronto was the forty-third time that our souls had gotten together whilst incarnate. Also, Merlin reincarnated in 2006 in Amsterdam. Female, reincarnated Merlin is the last of three children with two older brothers. Female Merlin was reborn in 02.12.2006 year of the Dog. Numerologically, 2.5.4 = 11. As you can see, reincarnated Merlin now has two numbers in common with myself 2 & 11. My life was study for his soul whilst between lives and that energy body of two affords him an abundance of creativity and the master numbers of 11, indicate her (reincarnated Merlin) need to be a singularly focussed lone wolf of sorts. Born August 02, 1960, my numbers are 2.1.8 = 11. I would suspect that TRH Prince & Princess of Wales have had at least 30 past lives together. John Travolta is an artisan soul and his departed wife, Kelly Preston his sage task companion. Similarly, for task companions TRH Prince & Princess of Wales, Catherine is a fifth mature warrior and William a sixth mature scholar. Warriors like king souls are always the dominant partner in any relationship; William will also yield to her in a heated row – and yes, task companions will row anywhere any frigging time. Catherine is balls tougher than William any given Wednesday. Also, Wanda Toscanini and Vladimir Horowitz, like Catherine and William, are warrior and scholar task companions respectively. Task companions are always close in soul age; for this reason it is safe to assume that sage soul, Kelly Preston was a young soul sage to her task companion, John Travolta being sixth level young. You will never have one task companion a young soul and the other an old soul. Classic example of the task companion focus, is the Prince & Princess of Wales; the nature of the bond is to undertake a shared task. In this case, the Prince & Princess of Wales are focussed on stewardship of the environment, maintaining and perpetuating the Windsor dynasty.
Duke & Duchess of Sussex
Here are how past-life contacts affect one during the course of a lifetime. Take the Duke & Duchess of Sussex. Meghan who had previously been Margaret Beaufort, matriarch of the Tudor dynasty, my soul has had 4 past-life associations with her soul. As this is a relatively low past-life contact rate, for this reason, I have never once dreamt of her; further, she is well-fortified as well she should. Meghan, Duchess of Sussex is, after all, the most hated Black woman in human history. In the case of her husband, Prince Harry, as we have shared 9 past-life associations, I dream of from time to time. It is not uncommon to have astral plane dream encounters with persons with whom you have shared past lives; however, with 1-5 past life associations, it would be rare that you would dream of such a person. 6-10 past life associations and there will be dream contact but not with any appreciable consistency. 11-15 such persons you will see in the dream time with fair regularity; they would be like someone in one’s part of town whom you see fairly regularly, though, you never directly interact or if so rarely and not intentionally do so. 16-20 and these are regular dream companions with whom you are likely to have healthy sexual contact (in dreams) and who are likely to be cadre if not entity mates. 21-25 flying dreams and other spiritually elevated experiences with commonality is the norm here. Apart from sex, they may be entity mates with whom you will continue the relationship, if known, after they pass on. 26-30, definitely entity mates with whom you will dine, fly, physicalise and also explore past-life experiences. Anything above 31, you are likely to spend time with them when they pass on, to assist with their orientation to the shift in experience/focus.
River Phoenix
The rules are not rigidly applied for instance within 48 hours of his death by overdose, I had a rather lucid astral plane dream encounter with River Phoenix. He is an artisan in my greater cadence and for being an entity mate with 18 past-life associations – though we did not meet in this incarnation – I was called into action to be of service to facilitate much needed energy alignment with his sudden transition. The link to that dream with River Phoenix is in the link that follows.
As with the above dream because River Phoenix was newly refocussed on the astral plane, I was there and for not being an astral plane habitué, had the ability to fly. Also, in that dream from 1993, I ran into extra-human (extra-terrestrial/alien) persons who though likely perfectly disguised in the waking state, appeared in the dream time in their natural state.
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.
Houghton Hall Sat Next to Anmer Hall, Norfolk.
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.
Adelaide ‘Dog Pound’ Cottage
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 “Rushied,” 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.
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.
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, Duke of Sussex, Major Jonathan Thompson, Duchess of Sussex & 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 of Sussex’s Tribute to HM The Queen at Archewell Website
Duke & Duchess of Sussex’s parting so long to his Commander-in-Chief.
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!
Queen Elizabeth II Statue Winnipeg ManitobaCanada Day, 2021
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.
________________________________________
Gerald Clayton in Concert July, 2021
As ever, life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!
All sevens can see beyond the veil and they are always without exception very refined, reserved and do not do uncouth nor drama. Why is that you ask? At the core of their being, such persons are callously amoral – they do not care… they do not empathise. So then let’s peer beyond the gullible small-islanders’ inability to look beyond the rigorously maintained façade of the major players of the BRF and, in particular, relative to the Duke & Duchess of Sussex.
Diana, Princess of Wales 1961 <O> 1997
Why would HM The Queen take so long to present after Diana’s death? She did not give a damn, the woman was an inconvenience and she was not going to honour her by appearing before the little people, who clearly loved Diana above all others in the kingdom. She detested Diana. She also had to come to terms with the fact that Diana was eliminated and clearly a lot of atoning had to be done to eventually face the public. Her appearance with the windows of Buckingham Palace open was a cold, ugly affair. Don’t ever forget, PM Tony Blair had to beg HM The Queen to come forward and address the very pained public.
HM The Queen’s Tribute to Diana, Princess of Wales
Apart from this utterly saccharine speech, there were moments captured of HM The Queen outside Buckingham Palace on the family’s return from Balmoral. Whilst Charles, William and Harry attended The Queen and HRH Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, the Queen’s reaction to the grieving subjects was a cold nasty affair. There was one point where someone reached out to her in their moment of grief and despair at Diana’s death and she simply shuddered and moved on with a smile that was the fakest most mechanical movement of facial muscles imaginable. Regardless what she said in that speech, this is the same woman who did absolutely nothing as Diana emotionally and mentally fell apart whilst the rest of the BRF and staffers abused Diana. Of course, it goes without saying, Diana was struggling with the fact that she was not loved and they all knew that Charles and Camilla were true lovers – especially if that child sequestered in Australia is the adulterers’. Nonetheless, they could, none of them: HM Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother, Charles, Philip, Anne and the entire ghoulish cast, have given two fucks how mightily Diana suffered. Tough!
Diana, Princess of Wales & Dodi Al-Fayed
Regardless what one may think of Mohamed Al-Fayed; there is very little to suggest that the man was just a grieving father. He had the means to have had the truth of the matter rigorously investigated. The classist, racist British establishment and the BRF did not want the disgrace, as they perceived it, of the mother of a future king of the realm being wedded to an Arabic, moneyed Moslem whom they thought of as being too brash and having bought his way in, when in fact he was not especially wanted. There was a price to pay.
Dodi Al-Fayed 17.4.1955 Goat 8.3.5 = 7
Dodi and Diana had two numbers in common, 8 & 7. For both of them, theirs was a 7 in the fourth position; this placement of 7 is more often than not the sign of public assassination – and not just merely assassination. Numbers do not lie; Mohamed knows the truth. Besides, as a father, he would have had countless dreams after Dodi’s passing in which he would have been enlightened as to what really took place and who the source of the assassination order would have been. The Duke of Lancaster would not have been unaware.
Duke & Duchess of Sussex, St. Paul’s Cathedral June 03, 2022.
Just remember, what is past, is present, is future. Everything that the Sussexes are being put through, is precisely what Mohamed Al-Fayed experienced from the British Establishment, aristocracy and BRF. Of course Mohamed Al-Fayed certainly had no qualms about telling them all to go to hell and did, as well he should have. They crucified his son for having the temerity to seek to join the BRF by proxy.
Mohamed Al Fayed 27.1.1929 Dragon 9.1.4 = 5
They would have been spied on by Mi5 and CIA and obviously, the very day that Dodi went out and purchased a 700$k engagement ring for a known expectant, Diana, Princess of Wales, they incredulously perished in a car crash. Of course, Diana survived; however, she was not meant to have survived so she was then put down. It takes a copious dosage of morphine or whatever else they did, to have Diana finally stop being a goddamn pain in the arse. Never forget that she had provoked their ire by producing a firstborn with decidedly Bourbon markers. In all of this, of course, was Mohamed Al-Fayed whose numerology coupled with his wealth, assured that he did not give a damn and called it as he saw it, which is to say that he was and remains spot on about what went down.
Diana, Princess of Wales
Diana’s appalling treatment by the senior royals, of which HM The Queen was keenly aware, was savage in the extreme. One should not be in the least surprised that Meghan, a Black American self-made woman with more charisma, intellect and eloquence than the slovenly broodmare who gave birth to the blasted freak, Prince Damien, was racially preyed on and driven out of the kingdom. Good fucking god, how in high hell do you explain that hideous woman, Princess Michael of Kent being at Meghan’s wedding after she had worn the blackamoor brooch to The Queen’s Christmas lunch, 2017. She then was sat closer to the Prince & Princess of Wales (Camilla rightfully should be called the Princess of Wales because she literally cannibalised Diana, Princess of Wales; calling her Duchess of Cornwall is too good – she should be labelled as what she is) and the Duke & Duchess of Cambridge at The Queen’s platinum jubilee service of thanksgiving at St. Paul’s Cathedral on June 03, 2022 than even the Wessexes, whilst the Sussexes were sat across the aisle and behind the Wessexes and next to the disgraced Duke of York’s two daughters and their admirable spouses. All this would have been with the tacit approval of HM The Queen, yet I certainly hope that the Sussexes do not see the monarch as being in any way an ally of theirs; she is not.
Lord Snowdon, Princess Michael of Kent & Mark-Francis Vandelli
Per the ubiquity of a fly on shit, there has been Princess Michael of Kent aka Princess Blackamoor, partout. She was forever holding holier-than-thou court in the royal box at Wimbledon 2022 as if the point needed to be stressed further, beyond the seating at St. Paul’s Cathedral on June 03, 2022. But lapping it up in spades, she most certainly was. Less than a month prior, there was Lord Snowdon, who sat like the Kents, close to the Cambridges and next to that aesthetically challenged buffoon with the mannish spouse, and on leaving St. Paul’s Cathedral, made a point of completely ignoring the Sussexes as they waited at the top of the stairs for their ride. Snowdon, at the time, snickered and went to chat up the clown, who had been seen embraced and his loyalty assured by William recently photographed for effect, hugging him, as they smugly telegraphed to the world their collective snub of the Sussexes. Of course, there sat Snowdon in the royal box at Wimbledon, who had been found being intimately same-sexed, which male royal never does, sat next to that blasted classist boor, minor TV thespian and snob, legs crossed and his mangina’s anal verge likely just-so softly plush for being filler-saturated. Of course, it goes without saying, his plush bussy was also likely waxed and bleached. Charmant. Sooner or later, Princess Blackamoor will crawl the frig into her casket and when she does, she most definitely will rot the fuck in hell with Idi Amin sat on her god-fugly face – the vile racist swine. Rule number 1, you don’t like Black people… fuck you! As Merlin once remarked, “What good is Black rage if it’s kept in a Ming vase on the mantel?”
Martina Hingis & Duchess of Cambridge at Wimbledon
As if it were not enough to drive home the fact that the Cambridges are really hyper-obsessed with putting that BBD – no, not big Black dick, Black Bitch/Diva, Meghan, in her place, Catherine just had to invite Martina Hingis to the royal box. Not as if she had won multiple grand slams at Wimbledon or something, like the Williams sisters.
Prince William day after the Sussexes’ interview with Oprah Winfrey aired.
Of course, Hingis was notorious back in the day to have alleged that there was no racism in tennis and she had no clue what the Williams sisters and their father were going on about. Always, the racists give themselves away by readily opining about the non-existence of racism.
Lady Gabriella Windsor-Kingston
Princess Blackamoor’s daughter who always looks like the sporty buffoon’s very mannish wife’s twin brother who’s recently fully transitioned. Surprise, surprise, though Princess Blackamoor feigned approval, in the end her ambiguous-gendered spawn came to her senses and married a perfectly sensible WASP, rather than the Dravidian, who though not Black, is not White.
Olivia Bentley
Of course, the only one who was both elegant and the epitome of class, was the very stylish, acerbic Olivia Bentley of Made in Chelsea, who obviously does not hang around with grifters whose baby daddy has of late been dropping soap and being somebody’s bitch. This was at the recent service of thanksgiving for a loved royal confidante.
Michael Fagan
So strange this tale and, of course, whatever you want to believe of what was said to have actually occurred, you are free to so choose. Asking for cigarettes is certainly telling.
Philip, Anne & Elizabeth.
Here’s a little insight into HM The Queen’s amoral 7thness; she returned to London from Malta, gave birth to HRH Princess Anne, Princess Royal then returned to Malta sans new-born mere days later. Naturally, it was the nannies’ duty to care for the new-born. Why should any Queen have to be a mere mother, indeed. Back to Malta she returned to her favoured stallion.
Of course, 8 years later after some obvious froideur, along comes what would in her tenth decade prove her own nightmare and Jeffrey Epstein’s prized blackmail, sex-crazed royal addict, whose second offspring bears an uncanny resemblance to the much favoured steed, Porchy.
As with Mohamed Al-Fayed, the Windsors and their organisation have got all the power to act like a unchallenged crime syndicate. Just as Mohamed was dismissed by the media as being a cuckoo, grieving old man for asking pertinent questions at the death of his son, Dodi Al-Fayed and his new love, Diana Princess of Wales, so too they have managed to have Meghan, Duchess of Sussex eviscerated in the media. Too bad for them though that they do not control American media and Meghan is an American and has power players in her corner who will always matter. Just look at the power of the Windsors. Lady Colin Campbell has never been able to write a biography about the Duke & Duchess of Cambridge. Obviously, this is because Prince William, a tempestuous stubborn customer, has made it perfectly clear to all the royal rota hacks and more importantly all the heads of the book publishing houses that there is to be no permission or approval of biographies of either him or his dull-as-dishwater wife with an equally violent temper.
Eleven years into their marriage and the only biography to have been written about either the Duke or Duchess of Cambridge has been “William at 40″ by Robert Jobson. Lady Colin Campbell writing her scathing tomes on the Sussexes is all about income stream for her. In the long term, she is hoping that this puts her in favour with the Cambridges, who see her for the gutter-sniping fraud that she is. Just think about it, the Poundland Countess, with her very own castle, has never written a book about Camilla, Charles or William and Catherine. How free is the press in the kingdom, if one cannot write about some members of the BRF? As such, it is a land of flagrant propaganda and little else as the pantomime rolls from one generation to the next as it has from one millennium to the next.
Moreover, when it pleases the Windsors and the firm to be oversaturated in the media, there is always a sacrificial lamb proffered. Diana was never liked by her husband, even less so by his mother, who knew all along that she was a convenient cover for Charles’s dalliances and Australian-disposed baggage, all of which would be conveniently covered up with Diana being skewered in the media. There are two things that the modern BRF do with predicable élan: royal weddings, which sell the fairy story and then the scandals follow thereafter. Charles and Diana, the wedding of the century, followed soon thereafter by Sarah, Duchess of York being fed to the Fleet Street abattoirs. Of course, as we have now come to see, “Fergie” was the initially proffered lamb, as it turns out, it was so much smoke and mirrors to cover the Wales’ toxic sham of a marriage, which was coming fast undone.
Lady Colin Campbell
There is a part of me that secretly likes this woman because at the end of the day, she is Jamaican and there is only one word which does not exist in Jamaican patois… shy! Guaranteed, you will laugh loudest when with Jamaicans!
Lady Colin Campbell Books:
Publication Order of Standalone Novels
Empress Bianca
(2008)
It’s been pulped and I’ve a copy
Publication Order of Non-Fiction Books
Lady Colin Campbell’s Guide to Being a Modern Lady
(1986)
Diana in Private
(1992)
The Royal Marriages
(1993)
A Life Worth Living
(1997)
The Real Diana
(2005)
Daughter of Narcissus
(2009)
The Untold Life of Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother
(2012)
The Queen’s Marriage
(2018)
People of Colour and the Royals
(2019)
Meghan and Harry
(2020)
Voilà! Not a single biography of adulterers Charles & Camilla. So too none of Prince Philip, HM The Queen, HRH Princess Anne, Princess Royal and, of course, none of either William and Catherine, together or alone. How in high hell can the most deliciously scathing biographer of the realm not once have put pen to paper and written from Porchy to Rose Hanbury and all the juicy tea.
Penelope Knatchbull, Countess Mountbatten of Burma
Furthermore, where is that biography of Prince Philip and Penelope, star-crossed lovers? Indeed, Penelope Knatchbull, Countess Mountbatten of Burma was not only well-sat at the Westminster Abbey service of thanksgiving for HRH Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh but also, she was the only non-Windsor family member in attendance at HRH Prince Philip’s funeral in April 2021, ‘trusted confidante’ of the late prince as she was… take a sip dears. God only knows, it is not as if, Lady Colin Campbell has another 50 years of living and writing to go; certainly, the recent passing of the elegant Lily Safra should have given her pause. Stop inciting hatred for dollars on YouTube and get to writing! Just look at the wealth of material: Porchy, Penelope, Camilla, Tampon-Prince, their Australian-sequestered love child… and obvious others.
Meghan, Duchess of Sussex & Henry, Duke of Sussex
Speaking of biographies… I will not include herein a picture of his fucking ugly face; however, suffice it to say, no other group are possessed of need to incite anti-Black racism as are some Jews, in particular Ashkenazi. Of course, such persons are always, as is the cultural norm, readily believed and their word seen as divine law. As I am Afro-Sephardic, I could not give a goddamn whom so fuck-all takes offence. This man has written a scathing biography, which is lauded in all quarters because god only knows, not only does he clearly walk on water but he obviously farts Skittles.
15/9/1984 Rat Henry, Duke of Sussex 6.6.1 = 4
4/8/1981 Rooster Meghan, Duchess of Sussex 4.3.4 = 11
6/5/2019 Pig Archie Harrison 6.2.5 = 4
4/6/2021 Ox Lilibet Diana 4.1.6 = 11
In numerology there are no lies… as in dreams. There is perfect synergy between Harry’s and Archie’s numbers, just as the same is true between Meghan’s and Lilibet Diana’s numbers. According to one of many lies being peddled by this charlatan biographer, who is just loving inciting more hatred for Meghan for having stepped out of her pre-ordained line – some people – Meghan could not have been born in 1981 and clearly is possibly as old as 46. Well, I have run the numbers and each child will numerologically have at least 2 numbers as the parent with whom they have a parenting bond. Obviously, as with Archie & Harry, Lilibet Diana would have to have been born with master number 11 like Meghan for there to be that harmony. Also, Lilibet Diana would be born with master numbers when it is so closely bonded a family; it is literally them against the Windsor’s world, which is considerable.
Meghan, Lilibet Diana & Mrs. Misan Harriman and Kids
4/8/1981 Rooster Meghan Markle 4.3.4 = 11
4/8/1975 Rabbit Meghan Markle 4.3.7 = 5
4/8/1976 Dragon Meghan Markle 4.3.8 = 6
4/8/1977 Snake Meghan Markle 4.3.9 = 7
4/8/1978 Horse Meghan Markle 4.3.1 = 8
4/8/1979 Goat Meghan Markle 4.3.2 = 9
4/8/1980 Monkey Meghan Markle 4.3.3 = 1
Archie, Harry, Meghan & Lilibet Diana
The only numbers which makes sense vis-à-vis Lilibet Diana’s and Harry’s, for that matter, are those of August 4, 1981, year of the Rooster. That leaves Meghan with master numbers of 11, which always denotes a life of destiny and such people are incredibly astute, come fully prepared for the journey ahead. If Archie and Harry are so simpatico, then clearly Lilibet Diana would have to be equally simpatico with her mum, Meghan and that she is to a mum born, August 4, 1981. End of discussion. Of course, like Orly Taitz herr Schmuckface just knows that for having his head so far up god’s ass, he speaks/writes the truth. Well, of course, the children do not exist; they are invisible, Meghan was never pregnant, it was a pillow. And on and on and fuck-all, on and on.
Boris Johnson Bigoted Warts And All…
Of course, he it was who had some rather bigoted choice observations, unsolicited, of President Barack Obama. But enough about vile buffoons, biting off infinitely more than they can chew – the Skittles-farting clown. This is the thing about some Jews, they are always being given a pass when they are racially predatory towards Blacks. And this is where BRF-sanctioned, character assassination biographer du jour, who has already been called out for having appropriated persons quotes and used as sources and warped their quotes in his vendetta against the schwarze shiksa, proves himself just another anti-Black racist. As though, only Jews are supposed to have ever experienced persecution, just as with Tina Brown (not Jewish), Mr. Schmuckface writes a 300-page plus book and never once mentions Princess Michael of Kent’s blackamoor brooch, which has been the biggest exposé of the racism to which Meghan, Duchess of Sussex was subjected. Since then as if to drive home the point, that blasted flat-arsed, hideous Rhino-legged racist swine, Princess Blackamoor, has been upfront and prominently placed at every opportunity.
Just Who Made Who Cry, Definitively Answered
Honest to frigging god, do you think that herr Schmuckface would have written a biography about a Jewish fiancée of Harry’s, who had been subjected to anti-Semitism when a minor royal showed up at HM The Queen’s Christmas lunch, wearing a swastika brooch and claiming not to have known that it was offensive and in this hyperbole, claiming that it was a Hindu cross brooch. Though it is true and even an Ethiopian and Navajo cross, we all, the world over, know that a damn swastika is a symbol of hideous anti-Semitism. Herr Schmuckface is a vicious coward; he knows that all he has to do, is go out there and say that Meghan made Catherine cry and that settles it. He is after all a Jew – it must be so. He is a damn bigot and a liar. The proof that Catherine made Meghan cry is validated by her behaviour at the March 2020 Commonwealth Service of Thanksgiving at Westminster Abbey. Catherine had been rude to Meghan in the lead up to the royal wedding about the bridesmaids’ tights. Catherine is an insecure woman, who was threatened by Meghan’s greater charisma, intellect and eloquence. The proof that Catherine made Meghan cry, is validated when she came up to take her seat at Westminster Abbey and though Meghan waved her right wrist that was placed on a her lap as she pointedly smiled at Catherine, Catherine refused to look at or acknowledge Meghan. At that point, the world was convinced that Meghan had made Catherine cry, which is all the more reason, Catherine deliberately ignored Meghan to perpetuate the lie, thanks to Camilla Tominey’s exclusive warped version, in the Daily Telegraph in November 2018, of what occurred after the Sussexes’ successful first tour in the South Pacific.
Catherine Meeting Jews at Buckingham Palace Garden Party
Most of all, Catherine is a White female who happens to be prejudiced towards Blacks – energy body of 9 – and she does not give a damn that it came to this. She will be Queen Consort and has given birth to the future sovereign… she does not have to give a damn what anyone thinks. To hell with the yank imposter and a Black one at that. Catherine, William for that matter, favour Jews and she has time and again demonstrated unease around Blacks, though, at this point, she has been made aware that optics are more important than personal bias. End of discussion.
Prince Damien holds court with his racially predatory kin
Just like that yenta, Angela Whiny-whatshername, and Tina Brown, there must never be any discussion of anti-Black racism with regards the BRF’s senior and minor titled royals. They have gleefully torn their flat arses in the negro from Compton’s face since that day in December 2017 and as recently as the thanksgiving service at St. Paul’s Cathedral on June 03, 2022, yet there is no connection to racism neither are the BRF racist. Just like Tina and the two Jews in question, the time is long past to stop cutting HM The Queen slack. She has been aware of this hideous racism all along and done nothing; indeed, it has gone on like a bad joke month after month, after month. The best way to condone repugnant behaviour is to ignore it and do nothing about it. Herr Schmuckface has lied about who made whom cry and he has a serious credibility issue when he runs his ugly head off in excess of 300 pages and never once mentions the blackamoor brooch; talk about a clear-cut case of bias. To hell with the lot of these BRF-bought or purely sycophantic biographers.
Listen to Catherine in the background; in the original version – long scrapped from YouTube – she accuses the amateur photographer of having stalked them and seen recently doing so. All this triggers William who is her task companion as well as the ordinal partner in their pairing. The poor man doesn’t stand a chance, she said that he was there and that is that. Of course, it behoves William to at all times have security tracking with them… anywhere… at all times. There are no excuses. William sounds so vulnerable and pained; it is also an image of the Cambridges that must not be seen. When you are going to go to such great lengths to demonise your own brother and his Black wife; you cannot have it both ways. At the risk of stating the obvious, it takes two hands to clap.
TRH Duke & Duchess of Cambridge, 2011
Now we come to the modern age, and time to throw another fairy story wedding. William was finally presented to the realm and as stupid can only be expected to do stupid, there was he got into the carriage and sat with his back to the horses and then remained sat whilst his new bride entered the carriage. Neither his brother nor father sat their arse down until their new wife was sat in the carriage – no uncouth, unaware dolts, Charles & Harry. Of course, from day one, the Cambridges openly rowed in full view of everyone on the ride back to Buckingham Palace and again on the balcony, they hissed at each other. Far be it from the blind to have taken notice of anything so obvious as truth. Of course, this wedding occurred long after the inconvenience of Diana was dealt with once and for all and she was put down… truly off to the abattoir she was sent and conveniently so in a tunnel where none of the many street level surveillance cameras could have caught anything.
TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex, 2018
Now the fairy story needed to be updated and the Windsors prove themselves progressive and inclusive; the Commonwealth after all is not exclusively Caucasian. It is one thing to talk the talk but you have got to be able to walk the walk. As HRH Prince Charles and Doria Ragland returned to the quire after having signed the registry, there was HRH Prince William openly ridiculing Meghan and her culture before her mother, Doria. This he also did before his embarrassed father, the Hollywood players across the quire aisle, HM The Queen and the entire world. When the Sussexes proved too popular and eclipsed the Cambridges, the bigoted Cambridges had to sabotage the Sussexes. As in the past, after a fairy story wedding, time for scandal. Without a sacrificial lamb delivered to the Fleet Street abattoirs, the pantomime and the Windsors lose their lustre… their very appeal. What better way to annul the very existence of the Duchess of Sussex and her marriage into the BRF, start a campaign to vilify and demonise her. Of course, though not dissimilar to North Korea in its jaundiced coverage of the Windsors, the Fleet Street abattoirs keep offering too much grizzle and shank. All this, as was the case with Sarah, Duchess of York and her fall from grace, is to cover the scandals within the thorny marriage of the Cambridges.
Interesting isn’t; then again, there are no coincidences. The official portrait of the Cambridges has Catherine wearing a green dress. The night that actor, Will Smith slapped comedian Chris Rock, his wife, Jada Pinkett Smith was wearing a green dress with yards of train. Green is the negative colour of 9/toxic energy; Jada has four 9s in her numerology. Catherine was not comfortable, sat next to Meghan in the royal box at Wimbledon and thus wore green and had her sister-in-law sat between her and her sister, Pippa Middleton-Matthews. Persons with 9 are more toxic, bitchy and vile for wearing green. Catherine studied art history and she knows the vibration that clothes and jewellery effect; she is subtle, vicious but does not go unnoticed by those with eyes to see. Green, of course, represents nature, life, moss, arboreal splendour and its negative aspect is reflected in all things that are venomous, acidic, toxic.
Duke & Duchess of Sussex & Oprah Winfrey
Margot Robbie Accepts for Brad Pitt 2020 BAFTA Awards
What these sorry saps did not factor into the equation, was Meghan collecting her rock, Harry, and saying, “life is not a dress rehearsal and I don’t do Prissy. Let’s get the hell outta here!” Like Sarah, Duchess of York, Meghan was supposed to have stuck around and been walked all over by the BRF and Fleet Street. And this is why the Sussexes have won, from HM The Queen on down to that blasted buffoon, to say nothing of the many dalliances exposed and whispered about.
Just as William did not attend Wimbledon on the same day that Lord Snowdon was sat his Athenian arse next to the minor thespian put-through, so too he is very careful to never have James Middleton show up at Wimbledon and definitely not sat in the royal box whilst he is there. Naturally, one would not want to have persons start entertaining the thought that James has been ridden like a prized polo pony for many moons now. There is a reason why, James is kept safely out of reach, if only to pop up time and again, doing his best Saint Francis of Assisi… a right sissy that one… to be sure. So as much as they would like to have wanted the Sussexes about being shat on by Fleet Street and the rest of the realm, to serve as foil for the Cambridges’ fractured, messy marriage – exhibit Prince Damien for one – they have got no end of thinly veiled scandals percolating just below the surface.
Duke & Duchess of Sussex Enter St. Paul’s Cathedral, June 03, 2022
What the whole debacle in St. Paul’s Cathedral on June 03, 2022 revealed at HM The Queen’s platinum jubilee service of thanksgiving, is how weak the Windsors are next to the Sussexes. The Queen deliberately did not attend because she wanted to have the Sussexes embarrassed before the world without her being present and looking as though complicit. What… no shit, pigs don’t fly! She has spent the better part of ten, eight in an official capacity, decades pulling the wool over the eyes of the somnambulant clowns of her island realm but few else are duped by her and her clan’s antics. Why even go so low as to have the Sussexes sat where they were but then to top it off, just as her being at the Sussexes’ wedding, Princess Blackamoor was sat within fart-sniffing distance of the Prince & Princess of Wales as well as the Duke & Duchess of Cambridge. They have no power; when the Sussexes exited the island sanatorium, the Windsors lost their power to thoroughly fuck with and manipulate them. They have upped their attacks by having a spate of biographies printed; however, everyone of them fail to mention the blackamoor brooch incident because, clearly, all these biographers are sanctioned and directed on how to focus the narrative of the runaway slave, Meghan. To not mention the blackamoor brooch incident and Princess Blackamoor’s subsequent prominence, does one thing and one thing only; it exposes the fact that the Windsors are die-hard racists. All the nonsense of Commonwealth unity is a damn farce.
Reptilian Spawn, Prince Damien Born to Toxic 9 Energy Body Mother
Don’t you worry your sweet little head, you’ve got scandal aplenty with Prince Damien chomping at the bit to get on with life and cause you no end of dread and embarrassment. As for Prince Damien, two other royals had a fourth number of 7 and they were both assassinated: Diana, Princess of Wales (1/7/1961 Ox 1.8.7 = 7) and Lord Louis Mountbatten, Earl of Burma 25/6/1900 Rat 7.4.5 = 7). It is very possible that either of his parents will choose to have Prince Damien put down for being a royal pain in the arse; it is what they do and have always done.
HM The Queen at 96
HM The Queen’s reign has been possessed of her amoral nature; it has had a cycle of abuses that show utter disregard for human decency, compassion, as well as, both emotional and mental wellbeing. During her reign there has been one consistency, no care for senior royals wellbeing if they are not in line to be future sovereign. From HRH Princess Margaret, her sister – whose emotional and mental health she ruined by her ruthless inconsiderateness. Not just her having abandoned the new-born HRH Princess Anne to return to HRH Prince Philip in Malta, in later years, she would turn a blind eye and allow the utter abuse of Diana, Princess of Wales who had been simply used for approved heirs, to say nothing how Sarah, Duchess of York has been abused and kept around like a despised corgi just so that one can kick it at every opportunity.
Do Drink Up… Backstory Time.
Lady Diana Spencer & Camilla Parker Bowles, 1980
Diana was not a stranger to them. As the preceding photograph attests, seven years into her marriage to Andrew Parker-Bowles, (who incidentally was also a lover of HRH Princess Anne, Princess Royal), there was Camilla, clearly having an affair with HRH Prince Charles, Prince of Wales, whilst grooming Lady Diana Spencer to be Charles’ approved concubine; how not unlike Ghislaine Maxwell was the very married Mrs. Camilla Parker-Bowles. All of this, HM The Queen would have been intimately aware of and clearly approved of. So a barely legal, Lady Diana Spencer was being squired, groomed and proffered by Camilla who by that point had sequestered her lovechild with HRH Prince Charles to the colonies in Australia. Obviously, HM The Queen had a direct hand in the lovechild being removed from the scene; there are simply some scandals that cannot be tolerated. The scandals that spring from the Fleet Street abattoirs do so with the royal seal of approval by none other than HM The Queen.
Diana, Princess of Wales & King Juan-Carlos de Bourbon
Diana, for being a mature soul artisan, was no pushover. She was a quick study, when she saw that she was merely a convenient, acceptable womb and that Camilla, her handler, would never stop meddling in her marriage to Camilla’s true lover, like any artisan-soul worth their adventurous, dramatic salt, Diana went off and engaged in revenge lust with the continent’s biggest royal lothario. That dalliance is precisely why HM King Juan-Carlos of Spain, father of Diana’s lovechild, was disinvited at the last minute to the royal wedding of HRH Prince Charles of Wales and Lady Diana Spencer. What was HM The Queen to do at that point, Charles & Diana were already set to be wedded and she, after all, had long abandoned Philip and been besotted and sired by Lord Porchester – and you can bet that she did not give a goddamn what anyone thought. As Charles ignored and carried on with Camila immediately after his wedding, Diana simply resumed relations with King Juan-Carlos and a pregnancy was expected so who would be any the wiser. Meanwhile, she knew damn well that as Queen, she could rip off Porchy’s clothes and mount him on the Buckingham Palace balcony at trooping the colour and not a single damn fool on the island realm would have seen any such thing. Period.
Royal Wedding, Duke & Duchess of York, 1986
Well, of course, Porchy’s boy, HM The Queen’s favoured lovechild was going to have a full 5-star wedding at Westminster Abbey. Another royal wedding, means more tourists after all and more merch income. Pretty soon, though, the fairy story started turning into an abundant flock of lambs for the Fleet Street abattoirs. Toe-sucking and pretty soon, Fergie was cast into the wilderness; not in direct line for the throne anyway, which afforded her to be diversionary scandal. Then faster than a sneeze, there was Diana making perfectly frigging goddamn clear that she was done playing along or playing nice. Never mind that before Penelope Knatchbull, there was HRH Princess Alexandra of Kent, yet HRH Prince Philip made it perfectly clear that he did not ever want to see Sarah, Duchess of York in the same room as him after her divorce. To that end, she was not invited to William and Catherine’s wedding and Meghan and Harry insisted that she be at their wedding; however, she was sat across the quire aisle from the rest of the royals. Incidentally, the Sussexes should not have been surprised at their placement at St. Paul’s Cathedral on June 03, 2022 as this was what HM The Queen decreed. Nonetheless, HM The Queen also made sure that Princess Blackamoor was placed close to the Waleses and Cambridges at St. Paul’s Cathedral on June 03, 2022.
James Hewitt & Diana, Princess of Wales
Diana started taking lovers. Naturally, to toss off Diana and begin her character assassination at the Fleet Street abattoirs, HM The Queen in a move to protect and avenge her honour, has the notion of HRH Prince Harry being Diana’s lovechild with James Hewitt floated. What a very convenient arsenal to draw on, as she was so intimate with this development two decades early with the lovechild with Porchy; simultaneously, it goes a long way to make the notion of Charles & Camilla more feasible in future, which like a turtle she has managed to live to see that PR rebranding of the adulterous Camilla the Ghislaine Maxwell-like groomer and Charles the Tampon prince. Naturally, James Hewitt was just another lamb proffered by HM The Queen and her syndicate, to protect Prince William’s true parentage and thereby get back at Diana for having fucked with not just Charles & Camilla but herself, HM The Queen, by fucking HM King Juan-Carlos of Spain. Of course, in due course as Charles was off loving Camilla and many male lovers, Diana, Princess of Wales wasted little time, taking lovers married or not as has always been the royal way.
After HM The Queen went out and had her lovechild with Lord Porchester, who turned into a real karmic tsunami, Philip for near five decades openly lived a life of passion and companionship with the very married Countess of Burma, Penelope Knatchbull. Just like Porchy’s lovechild, they do as they please and do not give a damn what the little islanders think. Of course, Philip lived to see the day that he was avenged for having been humiliated by a lovechild being in line to the throne ahead of his daughter, HRH Princess Anne, Princess Royal.
Of course, well before there was the very married Penelope Knatchbull, Countess of Burma, there was HRH Princess Alexandra of Kent, HM King George V’s granddaughter and daughter of HRH Prince George, Duke of Kent. Princess Alexandra’s numerology: 25/12/1936 Rat! 7.1.2 = 1. Philip’s affair with Princess Alexandra is what caused the rift in the sovereign’s marriage which resulted in HM The Queen’s affair with the Porchmeister and eventually their passion produced the rather barrel-hipped porchfest, Prince Andrew who exposed the lust and passion that produced him in the debauched affair that saw Jeffrey Epstein, Ghislaine Maxwell and Virginia Roberts-Giuffre being more than tangential bit players and infamous persons known the world over, one to whom they had to pay hush money. This is where it now gets interesting, after Andrew’s birth there was no going back and soon it was Penelope Knatchbull, the very married Countess of Burma with whom Prince Philip was passionately consumed. Penelope’s numerology is most interesting: 16.4.1953 Snake. 7.2.2 = 11. Both women are 7 energy bodied, you can’t get more amoral than that – they can also see dead people, auras et al. The more excitingly fascinating of the two royal mistresses of Prince Philip’s would hands down be Penelope; she has master number 11. These persons are inordinately charming and incredibly powerful and exceptionally gifted in the sexual arts. Moreover, Penelope is born in the year of the Snake; they can be monstrous, which is why Chinese traditionally avoided having babies in the year of the snake for fear that they would give birth to a female. For Princess Alexandra, a Rat, she was just in it for the adventure and with amoral 7 energy body, it was damn great sex and she was not going to not get her fix. Again, it is what the royals have always done.
Harry & Meghan Engagement Interview BBC
One of the most important things that HRH Prince Harry said in his engagement interview, occurred when he corrected BBC host, Mishal Husain by stating, “Or they think they know!” If HM The Queen wants the realm to know, it will be filtered via the abattoirs on Fleet Street. Everything else will be smoke and mirrors and the standard, “Never explain. Never complain” rules the day. Indeed, when you’ve much to hide, so say you.
Royals and their lovers indeed. HRH Princess Margaret, Countess Snowdon 21/8/1930 Horse 3.2.6 = 11
Margaret was possessed of master number 11; she did not give a living shit and said and did as she pleased. She was also innately talented and exceedingly charismatic. She had three lovers of note and only one of them did she share 2 numbers in common. This would have been her one true love, Peter Townsend (22/11/1914 Tiger 4.6.3 = 4). Peter, however, was divorced and his wife was still alive, which means that as the Governor of the Church of England, HM The Queen could not have sanctioned Margaret’s marriage to her true love and divorced spouse. With two numbers in common, it is very likely that there was a high degree of past-life connection between Margaret and Peter Townsend. He was shipped off to Belgium so that she could not have her star-crossed lover on the side. As karma would have it within ten years of Margaret being bitterly separated from Peter Townsend by his relocation to Belgium, Prince Philip was ploughing Princess Alexandra and before the decade was out, HM The Queen had her lovechild with Lord Prochester, HRH Prince Andrew, Duke of York and we know damn well how all that karma turned out, Epstein, Maxwell, Roberts-Giuffre. All the more reason why it was callous in the extreme to have dispatched Peter Townsend to Belgium. Margaret could have wedded whomever and kept Peter as lover, open or otherwise; this after all, is what both HM The Queen and Prince Philip did… it is what the royals have always done.
Margaret having been told to suck it up and get on with living, then settled for Antony Armstrong-Jones, 1st Earl Snowdon. It is hard to see what had these two walking down the aisle, unless Antony Armstrong-Jones (7/3/1930 Horse 7.1.5 = 4) was hung like a prized steed. Margaret and Antony did not a single number in common share; she had to have kids and if he loved being pegged by strap-on or cock, he would not have been the first royal male with same-sex proclivities. Finally, having had enough of playing at happily married, Margaret dispensed with her pegged hubby and cut to the chase. She took Roddy Llewellyn (9/10/1947 Pig 9.1.4 = 5) as her lover. She needed to be well-ploughed and often and when that is the order, no one fills the role better than a Pig. Pigs are loud, lusty, sexually obsessive souls who will happily fulfil themselves and partners as often as possible. Soused on drink and nicotine all Princess Margaret wanted was damn good sex and that is just what Roddy would have provided. Like the Earl Snowdon, Margaret and Roddy had no numbers in common. At 17 years Margaret’s junior, Roddy was merely a throbbing sex toy and knew his role.
Please, Switch to Elderflower; It Is Most Soothing…
Catherine Bullies William at James Bond Premier
Catherine has mastered the art of cussing behind clenched teeth whilst smiling that ever-present smile of hers. Her 9 energy body here is toxic in the extreme and that is why for most of the time, William’s face is warped into a pursed-lipped silence. William is a submissive; he is a bottom who loves being bullied by his wife and it is part of their psychosexual dynamic. Catherine is a dominatrix. Who again made whom cry?
Look at the Froideur Between Cambridges at No Time to Die Premier
Catherine peppered William with abuse common to dominatrixes whilst smiling and looking his way; just look at her exasperation at the 40 second mark. On arriving at the top of the stairs, Catherine looked across to William who had still not made it up. She cuts the eye at him and does not give a damn who the world over noticed.
Bottoms Up! Now we learn where best fake-toothed, bald, submissive Billy likes to wear his crown jewels! If that is not rich…. of course, it has always been there. You can even see it in the way Catherine triggers William in the clip of them out bike-riding and encountering an amateur photographer. Of course, William’s mum, Diana, Princess of Wales was 1 energy-bodied and that is the sign of the dominatrix/bully. I have also known four women along life’s journey and everyone of them had men whom they utterly controlled, emasculated and pussy-whipped their every breath. Heck, two of those women, with energy body of 9, loved using a strap-on on their lovers/partners.
#PrinceofPegging
Perhaps, indeed, he loves being pegged by James Middleton, Earl of Insolvency. Again, William’s fourth number is 5, it signifies male sexual fluidity, submissive behaviour, sexual excess, sexual scandal; furthermore, William is moving centred and all such persons are highly sex-focussed individuals. 5 represents excess – excessive submission. All this has happened throughout the history of the royal family; now, we live in an age where very little goes unnoticed.
Just look at William in both photographs on separate occasions; his lips are pursed and he is self-contained, emasculated and submissive. William is also jealous as hell but there isn’t a damn thing that he can do about it. A woman loves whom she loves and that’s that! Meanwhile, Catherine (9/1/1982 Rooster 9.1.3 = 4) does not waste time in telegraphing her heightened sexuality when focussed on Ben; she is all over and into Sir Ben Ainslie (5/2/1977 Dragon 5.7.4 = 7). This has been going on at least since 2014 and always, no one ever makes mention. In light of what we know about Prince Philip and HM The Queen, in this generation, we also do have a parallel dynamic. Catherine has made it perfectly clear, time and again, that William is a goddamn irritant. Not to be overlooked, is the fact that Dragons and Dogs do NOT get along; there is no way that William would ever feel comfortable around Ben and will be consumed with jealousy rather than not with regards Ben; Catherine intuitively knows this and plays it up even more. Make no mistake about it, there is more than flirting at play here. What’s poor Willy to do but go self-peg or cocksuck a couple of fags (British version or is that a pun?).
Catherine openly flirts with Ben and what does it say about their relationship when he adjusts her helmet; it is the most bold display of their intimacy. Of course, on the day of this Commonwealth invitational sailing event between Britain and New Zealand – Britain won – Catherine could not have bothered nor would she have dropped the sailing event, to attend Wembley Stadium with her husband, William, whilst the ladies England team squared off against Germany in the Ladies Euros 2022 finals, which they won. There was William alone and unattended by his wife, Catherine, who was in Plymouth openly flirting with her very intimate friend, Ben Ainslie.
Sir Ben Ainslie and Wife, Royal Box Wimbledon 2022
More important for Catherine was spending sportive quality time with Sir Ben. Well, of course, Sir Ben is married but so too is Penelope Knatchbull and Princess Alexandra wedded when they were the open lovers of Prince Philip’s, HM The Queen or no queen, to say nothing of the rest of humanity. But did anyone ever notice or write biographies and harp on as though the sky were imminently about to collapse?
Honestly, though they only have one match numerologically, there may be a strong past-life history between both Ben & Catherine or they may well be entity/cadre mates; either way, she is a warrior and all warrior souls whether male or female are very highly sexed persons, for whom there is never any shame in their game when they want to be sexually satisfied. Catherine is no different and she has the perfect partner. More sex workers and street walkers are warrior souls than any other role… so you know.
You definitely do not see Catherine ever looking this downright maudlin when in the company of Sir Ben Ainslie. “Lady sings the blues. She’s got it bad…” Sing it Billie Holiday. You wait, Billy, she’s gonna peg you good. Take a sip and breathe dears… exhale; isn’t Elderflower superb?
William is an insipid, foul-tempered man-child, who does find ready support in the court buffoon, whose wife is as equally dominant as is Catherine. He, too, likely does love being pegged. This could have been such smooth sailing; however, you just had to go tempting karma by being nasty little upfront racists towards Meghan, Duchess of Sussex. Now that she is gone, you’ve blown your cover… from Prince Damien to personal preference on how to wear the crown jewels, are truly unmasking.
It’s Okay, Take A Minute…The Camera Never Lies!Marquess & Marchioness of Cholmondeley,Earl & Countess of Rocksavage, Houghton Hall
If you going to reincarnate and work as a team on a life devoted to stewardship, this remarkably august pair would be as fine a blueprint as you could hope for. I don’t know if they are task companions or essence twins but what I do know, is that they are without doubt august mature souls wi
