As Ever, Nothing but Love for Meghan!

With Love, Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex, Netflix

Meghan is so incredibly in her element for being happily in control in this empowering chapter of her life journey. Post The Tig, Meghan now has the audience her soul ever desired. She has the backing of Netflix, a first-look deal along with Harry at Netflix. Too, there is the very lucrative matter of having Netflix as a business partner. What the baying jackals of the “left-behinds,” royals and their media hacks, say and do, is of no consequence. Meghan reigns supreme and commands industry attention and respect.

With a crew of 80 plus souls, Meghan had all eyes on her. Everything about the production is impeccable. The music chosen, the thoughtfulness of the guests featured and what their episode would be focussed on, were masterfully researched and perfectly executed.

Catherine, HRH The Princess of Wales, Balmoral, 2025

Looking for all the world like a resuscitated Edward Gorey ghoul, we got ourselves a new do to eclipse that damn yank on the eve of season two of her Netflix “flop” as they have gotten that blasted little fabulist toe-tapping minstrel to shrill from FailedDaily’s Hyde corner. Well, quelle surprise ça, Lady Doolittle Ponsworth’s new do was no roaring success as no one was enthralled and certainly, the lady had likely not intended to have had this chrysalis moment, turn into a meme-crazed object of open ridicule, which it most certainly fast became.

Tan France & Meghan

This episode, with Tan France, was one of the most glorious; for me, it was an exposure of Meghan’s true nature. Like all master number 11 persons, she is innately generous of spirit and thoughtful. Meghan got Tan a worn masala dabba, not brand new, but one that was used and the fount of love, memories and a gift that would touch and honour his heritage. It was a truly heartwarming moment.

Entitled. Andrew Lownie. Yours truly’s copy.

Having voraciously gourmandised on Andrew Lownie’s exquisite exposé, I have come away having greater respect for Harry and Meghan. What was most disturbing was seeing how Fleet Street was projecting onto Meghan the same phantom, the same persona that has nothing to do with her, which they had previously animated with Sarah, Duchess of York. How in the hell can you possibly compare Sarah to Meghan? They are miles removed and utterly incomparable.

Meghan: Armani smoking & Anine Bing gold & diamond necklace

Meghan is a mid-cycle mature artisan soul, whereas Sarah is a third level mature sage soul, the latter with very strong but difficult overleaves. Meghan is an older soul than Sarah, which counts for a great deal more than readily discerned. The Mid-Cycle soul age only occurs at the mature cycle and is between both the third and fourth soul ages. The difference between one soul age to another, third to fourth, is as vast as the difference between a young and mature soul.

Third level lives usually are marked by explosive growth and more than a little bit of karma being created along the way. One of the most beautiful moments of this book is the scathing letter that Princess Margaret wrote to Sarah, Duchess of York, which proves the most staunchly riveting defence of the House of Windsor; it is staggering in its power and beauty.

*’In a gesture of goodwill, Fergie sent the formidable Princess Margaret a bouquet of flowers, only to receive a blistering letter in response. According to a 2010 article in The Telegraph, Margaret wrote: “You have done more to bring shame on this family than could ever have been imagined.”

Then, appearing to make reference to the notorious “toe sucking” pics, she continued: “Not once have you hung your head in embarrassment even for a minute after those disgraceful photographs. Clearly, you have never considered the damage you are causing us all. How dare you discredit us like this, and how dare you send me those flowers?”

Fergie reportedly burst into floods of tears after reading this note.’

The book can’t be said to be an attack on the monarchy any more than the catastrophic damage that Andrew and Sarah have inflicted on the family and institution. Both Margaret and Sarah are mature sage souls. Sage souls, more than any other, will come off as grand and imperious, which has nothing to do with the true essence of a king soul.

TRH Prince William & Catherine, The Prince & Princess of Wales

Put aside Harry & Meghan for the moment, but what Entitled brought to light, is how great the strain on William and Catherine is. King Charles III is but a bridge to their reign and they are going to inherit all the bile that was never addressed by HLM The Queen and Charles, too timeworn and weary, to have to address. It truly is not The King’s problem, save it is and besides all that, there is the matter of righting his relations with his darling boy, his son, Prince Harry.

Funeral of Katharine HRH The Duchess of Kent

Two very noteworthy things are telling in this photograph, William and Catherine are having to stand there, regally enduring the Yorks foisting themselves on them. The other, something that most people did not notice, because I suppose it was not Meghan. There is no greater hogging the stage and being out of place than the Jewish wife of the 53rd in the line of succession, leaving her place, stepping ahead of William and Catherine to stand next to and speak to The King. It is both a family and a ceremonial royal funeral. Charles in his capacity of supreme governor of the Church of England is alone, because Camilla elected not to attend. No one should have stood next to The King, not even Sophie, HRH The Duchess of Edinburgh who attended alone as Edward was on tour in the South Pacific – Papua New Guinea. However, like her mother-in-law – the archly pompous racist boor, baroness Marie-Christine, the exceptionally entitled has to hog the stage, knowing fully well how the optics from Jo’burg, to ‘Viv to New York City will look. No one during HLM The Queen’s long reign would have dared go stand next to The Queen to chat whilst she was on duty, which was always.

Queen Camilla Being Rude to Catherine, The Princess of Wales, King Mother

After having pulled out at the last minute, the day prior, the funeral of Katherine, HRH The Duchess of Kent, owing to acute sinusitis, there was Queen Camilla turned up to greet President Trump and First Lady Melania for the start of their state visit. And why wouldn’t she have, both women having used their sex rather than intellect to forge their way in the world. There is no way to try to doll this up, yet again, Camilla is as fucking ugly as she is uncouth. How dare she, when little more than a barren fruitless branch of the dynastic family tree, be openly rude to Catherine, future Queen Consort and King Mother. Suddenly, Camilla had miraculously overcome her acute sinusitis, to bark orders at Catherine. Nothing is uglier than an insecure woman being hostile to another woman. She rudely dismissed Catherine who then self-deprecatingly turned off, after having been humiliated before the world.

Harry & Meghan Made to Leave Buckingham Palace Garden Party by Camilla, 2018

At least Meghan could put her foot down and say, “I am not putting up with this. My son will not be subjected to his racially predatory systemic abuse.” Thank goodness Harry listened and got them away from that madness. Can you imagine as per the exposé in the Oprah interview if Meghan had taken her life? They, the House of Windsor and their Fleet Street henchmen, would simply have spun it with lurid headlines of Meghan having overdosed on narcotics as she had been known to be abusing drugs… or similar tall tales of that nature.

Windsor walkabout

Catherine is bound to endure all the abuse meted out by Camilla, which would in turn explain why Catherine would naturally target Meghan in the monarchy’s pecking order. It is also reasonable to assume that in both the Carolean and Guglielean courts much of the worldview is heavily biased in favour of Jews. Jacob the 4th Baron Rothschild daily spoke to Charles for over 50 years until his death; William wedded on the baron’s 75th birthday. This explains why the Jewish wife of the 53rd in the line of succession could break protocol and go stand next to King Charles III at an official event when no one else sought to do so, and quite rightly ought not to have done so. Of course, The Rothschilds have for two centuries been the House of Windsor’s banking advisers.

Catherine, HRH The Princess of Wales Greets HM King Charles III at The Duchess of Kent’s Funeral

Whereas Catherine, who never missteps when it comes to protocol, did greet The King by curtseying, baroness Marie-Christine’s daughter-in-law did no such thing. Just imagine if Meghan had stepped out of line to go stand beside The King and ignored protocol, how she’d be lynched in British media. Ever Entitled, and as ever, pulling rank.

Queen Letizia of Spain Lays Down the Law

Don’t you worry Catherine, if and when the time does eventualise, don’t hesitate to draw inspiration from Queen Letizia of Spain. She is born September 15, same day as Prince Harry, so is possessed of double sixes. Such persons are all about righting wrongs. Both persons, Letizia and Harry, are Rats! The Rat’s motto: “anywhere, any damn time, I will take you to task… know that!” Letizia was deplorably treated by her mother-in-law Queen Sofia who did not even want her marrying her beloved son, King Felipe VI. Not to worry, the moment Felipe’s wife became Queen, Letizia had not kept score for nothing. “Take your damn filthy paws of my fucking children!” That’s how any rat worth their salt would deal with Sofia pulling rank, when clearly she was not allowed access to her granddaughters by her despised daughter-in-law now Queen.

Camilla Has The Sussexes Removed from Garden Party 22.5.2018

Three days after their glorious wedding, look at the optics as a stunned Prince Harry and Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex find themselves having to abruptly leave the Buckingham Palace garden party in celebration of the then Prince of Wales, HRH Prince Charles’s 70th birthday. Just as with Catherine being rudely told off, a rather insecure Camilla, not liking the draw of Harry and his exciting new wife, has them take leave. Just as with Catherine before U.S. First Lady Melania Trump, the Sussexes were embarrassed and left totally blindsided and humiliated.

Meghan wears Chanel heading to dinner in Manhattan with Prince Harry

As ever, archly in denial, the story has been spun to target and lynch Meghan, who was overheard, by sources of course, to be rudely saying that she didn’t want to be at the garden party, thus the couple was asked to leave. Again, it all stems from the ‘ugly duchess’ who was quick to rudely cannibalise Meghan as she routinely does Catherine and before Diana, Princess of Wales and likely, Sarah Duchess of York.

Camilla, like William, is a scholar soul; this particular soul type is more likely to interfere, bully and cause disruption in the lives of those with whom they have close relations. Sarah is a sage soul; both women are on their third life at heir soul age – third mature for Sarah and Mid-cycle Mature for Camilla, which means that they are more likely to create karma than repay karma. Meghan, an artisan soul – like Diana, Princess of Wales, is a mid-cycle mature soul; so too is Camilla – that means that they are both slightly older-souled than Sarah whose husband, Prince Andrew is an artisan soul; however, he is a seven level young soul which is why his life focus has been about corruption of ego, arrogance, entitlement and obsession with sexual conquests… to the detriment of the House of Windsor, to be sure.

All three Windsor wives have been bullied by Camilla, which is not surprising for a scholar soul. Diana was a second level mature artisan. An older soul than the other three women: Meghan, Camilla & Diana, Catherine is a fifth level mature warrior. Meghan is a mid-cycle mature artisan, same soul age as Camilla. Queen Camilla has internally abrasive Michael Overleaves, which would leave her inclined to being insecure and thus making enemies of whomever she deemed competition, which in her case is every other Windsor wife. Sad woman. There are two reasons for this, I believe, women in a patriarchal society are groomed to distrust and compete with other women. Secondly, Camilla has no royal heirs, which means that she has no power; even when alone in a room with Catherine, Catherine for being King Mother would never curtsey to her.

Prince William & Eugene Levy

Naturally, as the Sussexes are doing fantastically well in their business partnerships with Netflix, the “left-behinds” had to go rushing to American studios, looking to elbow in on the action – as ever desperately attempting to be relevant. Naturally, The King was afforded a Netflix documentary deal to honour the 50th anniversary in 2026 of the now King’s Trust; the production will be narrated by actor, Idris Elba himself a beneficiary of the then Prince’s Trust grants at the start of his career. As Netflix are quite familiar with whom William is, beyond his carefully curated public persona, they took a pass on him on any overture he would have made them. Naturally, as per his connection to Jacob 4th Baron Rothschild, William’s fiendish campaign afforded him a rather tepid affair where action figure come to life William takes SCTV alumnus Eugene Levy on a tour of his magical life-size castle… truly riveting stuff.

King Felipe VI

Alas, the teeming otiose Black Africans in 19 Commonwealth nations have not seen William since he wedded 14 years ago; then again, he is truly occupied with ending homelessness and bringing real, meaningful, lasting peace in the Middle East! It is clear where the House of Windsor’s loyalty lies. Though King Felipe VI of Spain has strongly condemned Israel’s actions against Palestinians in Gaza and called for a two-state solution, neither HM King Charles III nor Prince William has spoken out on the matter as to do so would invariably offend they who are most beloved by them.

DailyMail Hacks

After spending every show ridiculing and lying about Harry & Meghan and their relationship and business relationship with Netflix, did these Fleet Street hacks do anything remotely journalistic with regards William’s interview with Eugene Levy? Did they ridicule the fact that he was rebuffed by Netflix, according to their sources, only to end up with Apple+ which no one watches, relative to Netflix. They never learn…

Eugene & William, Windsor Great Park

Make no mistake about it, this idyll set in the grounds of Windsor Castle and therein, was all an empty PR ruse. It was so much froth to say so little. Most of all, it was about covering the festering mess created by the hostile takeover of Sentebale, in which the Windsors pulled the race card, using an MBE – Sophie Chandauka who would naturally be obliged to do William’s bidding, to avoid being directly involved and turn the tables on Prince Harry. Well, Prince Seeiso saw through that nonsense, knowing fully well as he does who William truly is and thus resigned from Sentebale, along with Prince Harry, in a show of support.

Matters not, because not only did William’s interview not make Apple+’s top ten; Eugene Levy revealed in an interview that he still doesn’t know why William contacted him to be on his show. That tells you two things: 1. Netflix had no time for William’s nonsense. 2. William’s exclusive inner circle of Jews made it happen; again, this is the man who got married on Jacob, 4th Baron Rothschild’s 75th birthday… there is no such thing as happenstance on this planet.

Meghan Arrives at Balenciaga Show Paris Fashion Week

More than all that, before anybody could space a block in their weekend to time waste on William’s tawdry fare on Apple+, along came the weekend’s supernova, Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex alighting in Paris at Paris Fashion week to take in Pierpaolo Piccioli’s inaugural designs at Balenciaga SS26. Within mere hours, as ever, Meghan had eclipse yet another foray of William’s. “I told you keep that finger out of my face…” indeed!

Megyn Kelly Exposed

There it is…. it was not about giving a fuck about The Queen and the royal family, about whom she never previously cared. Then the public sacrifice was made and the mask dropped. This racist White fraud then goes on to state that thanks to Obama and his divisiveness, racism has arisen in America. The derangement of racist Whites who think that by banning Black history and reversing the gains of the past 70 years, it is somehow going to eclipse the karmic bond they hold with their enslaving ancestors… that is truly bizarre. Nothing this White Christian Nationalist says about Meghan, along with that peroxide blonde with an arse as wide as the Panama Canal, is credible and unbiased. They hate Black people and it has become abundantly clear that it is quite okay to openly hate Blacks in all media, because one can and more importantly have been gaslighted to do so.

Presumed Route Taken by Meghan

This route proffered by Lady Fuckamere’s rag, FailedDaily, is totally ridiculous. Sugaar Restaurant was the site of the Balenciaga afterparty, which is in the 6th arrondissement where my sister lived. The video and Meghan’s perspective is of the River Seine to her right as she drove home to the hôtel Plaza Athenée on Avenue Montaigne. From Sugaar they would have taken Boulevard Saint-Germain to the Quai D’Orsay, from which the video was filmed. There is positively no reason for them to have journeyed so far west to Pont D’Alma, especially when Meghan just wanted to get home and facetime with her beautiful children 9 hours away in Montecito. The bridge out the window could have been Pont de la Concorde or even Pont Alexandre III, either way they would likely have taken Pont des Invalides as it bleeds into the one-way rue François I that runs northwesterly away from River Seine. That then would bleed into Avenue Montaigne which runs southwesterly one-way and which would take them to the entrance of hôtel Plaza Athenée. There was no sense in going to Pont D’Alma, crossing it would not have allowed access from there to the one-way Avenue Montaigne into which they could then not have entered. They would not, therefore, have gone anywhere near Pont D’Alma or the D’Alma tunnel where Diana, Princess of Wales ws murdered.

D’Alma Tunnel Entrance

Enraged that they have no access and hadn’t a clue that Meghan was travelling to Paris and that her appearance at the Balenciaga show was such a phenomenal success, the FailedDaily rag acted as though the video released by Meghan of her drive at night to her hotel involved her hanging her arse out the people mover’s window and twerking whilst drinking from a bottle of champagne. That did not happen and there was no insult to either Diana, Princess of Wales or Harry. What would have been most offensive was their hounding of Meghan to have enraged Prince Harry.

Meghan Meeting Anna Wintour at Balenciaga SS26

Mad as hell at being the left-behinds, the FailedDaily goes into hyperdrive with one attack piece after another. No absurd claim of theirs is ever too much; and bless their hearts now AI makes their every absurd claim seemingly true.

Faked by AI

Which cosmopolitan 44-year old woman does not know how to kiss someone cheek-to-cheek? Precisely! So intense is the misogynoir and cultural racial animus towards Blacks that merely for having wedded her love, Meghan is the most hated Black woman in history. There is positively no way to deny the disproportionate animus and the ridiculous lengths to which the media will go to incite hatred of Meghan because she chose to reincarnate as a Black woman, after having previously been a member of the royal family as Tudor matriarch, Margaret Beaufort.

Tom Lamb by Leo Mol Hazelton Avenue, Toronto
The Lies of the Racially Predatory Boor

Listen to this noisemaking, blithering moron. What makes her think her opinion matters? This hateful, anti-Black racist has the nerve to opine about Meghan at the Balenciaga show in Paris. It is none of your business. She has been vile in the extreme and one never forgets. Nothing she says here is either solicited or credible. Nothing more than a leopard dressed up in a tiger suit!

Look at It!

Talk about having zero awareness. Just look at the queer distance between the knees and ankles; she is no human beau idéal. Go on, take that flat-arsed thermoregulating hideous fare elsewhere; we are not into reptilian-hybrid fare in these parts. Just to be clear, there is no person named Meghan Markle, as the thermoregulating whack job can’t resist throwing shade. She is, Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex! We have the receipts!

Fall on Tonakela Oil on Panel ©Chuck Beamish 2023
Harry & Meghan Arrive at Project Healthy Minds

Every lie in no way eclipses the beauty, strength and power of this marvellous human, Meghan and her rock solid partner, husband, lover, Prince Harry. Yes, Harry and Meghan are so irrelevant that’s why there was such excitement when they stepped onto the red carpet in New York City at the Project Healthy Minds gala. In a bid to invalidate this, a reposition of the couple as they embrace on the red carpet is now characterised as Meghan brushing off her husband in further signs of their marriage being in turmoil and the couple being on the brink of divorce. Meghan was seen going to dinner with Jill Smoller, Serena Williams’s agent and now Meghan’s, who also attended the Sussexes’ wedding whilst Harry went to dinner elsewhere with at least one person who was previously employed at the Invictus Games. Obviously, both gatherings would be of greater impact for either person; however, this is deemed another sign of an imminent divorce.

Oh the Lies!

This lunatic woman who saw that racist boor Charlie what’s-his-face on a horse on the ranch that Jesus has given him in heaven, is as fucking out to lunch as the multitude of racist Whites whose delusion leaves them seeing everything associated with Harry and Meghan as a failure and further signs of their marriage being en route to imminent divorce. This ability on the part of so many Whites to wholeheartedly lie, spread those lies and furthermore believes those lies, is precisely why the pathological liar who’s recently suffered an obvious stroke is currently holding the world to ransom.

TRH Prince Harry & Meghan, The Duke & Duchess of Sussex

For me, this is one of the best photographs of Prince Harry; his eyes are just as sublimely soulful as in dreams. You shall know the warriors by their dreams, nine of ten dreams with Catherine, The Princess of Wales, she is engaged in some sort of sporting activity. Both are fifth mature warriors; for that reason, they are ever engaged in sporting activities: polo, tennis, field hockey, surfing, cycling, sailing; these souls for being on the action axis will ever be focussed on activities that engage their warrior essence.

Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex

As ever, Meghan for being possessed of master number 11, and has a Venus/Solar body type means that she is exceptionally telegenic and photogenic. Meghan chose at the level of soul to be mega-famous in this lifetime and there is no disputing that. I always love it when Meghan wears her hair back, as in Paris, in a tight chignon. At such times, I am always reminded of the exquisite beauty of both actor, Jennifer Connelly and Martha Graham, whom I was fortunate to have seen a couple of times when living and dancing in New York. Martha was a second level old soul artisan and boy did you feel her agedness of spirit when in her presence. As with all three, Meghan, Martha and Jennifer, women of exceptional beauty are possessed of notably high foreheads.

Birds Cover the Sun. Lithograph Ed: 31/50 ©1960 Kenojuak Ashevak

What a marvellous addition to my collection and this from a most important milestone year too. This is the year in which Kenojuak began making prints in earnest, starting in 1959. Ever her memory will be a coveted blessing and a source of inordinate pride.

Katharine, HRH The Duchess of Kent 22.2.1933<O>4.9.2025

For the August, 2025 blog, I included the members of the House of Windsor whose Michael Overleaves had to that point been revealed. Others can now be revealed, included Katharine, The Duchess of Kent, the recent astral plane habituée, who not surprisingly proved a very evolved older soul and a priest at that. Hence, I an reblogging that list with further additions.

Slaves/One 25% of all souls

Artisan/Two 21.5% of all souls

Warrior/Three 17.5% of all souls

Scholar/Four 14% of all souls

Sage/Five 10% of all souls

Priest/Six 8% of all souls

King/Seven 4% of all souls

Placements are as follows, if you are the same soul age, the life number that you are living relative to the other same soul-aged person means that the younger of the two will be to the left. For example, both Louis Mountbatten and Prince George of Wales aka future George VII are fourth mature king souls; however, that was Louis’s second life whereas this is George’s third. That makes George older souled than was Louis. And no, George is not Louis Mountbatten reincarnated, though the window of time is appropriate, Louis Mountbatten is in pod 408 and George 418. Your casting never changes from first to last life of the reincarnation cycle.

Meghan in Washington D.C.

Both Princes Archie & Louis are seventh level mature souls and living their second life respectively, the former a priest and the latter a slave. Both souls are on the inspiration axis but being in flow would mean that Archie would find Louis’s feistiness a bit intense. I positively adore Louis. When he first presented at the Platinum Jubilee, I was not then thinking of role, soul age and numerology; it was just, good god is he proving embarrassing. However, this is a healthy male human with a five energy body – William and Catherine have struck the jackpot with him. For being a scholar soul, though younger-souled, Charlotte will always seek to tell her younger brother to rein it in; Louis, though, is considerably older-souled than his sister – in fact, Louis is the oldest soul member of his immediate family. Louis will pay positively no mind to Charlotte at such times and will keep on keeping on, which thrills my soul to the core.

Meghan wears Anine Bing coat

Third life at any soul age will always be dynamic and prone to causing ‘drama’ and creating karma as is the case for Catherine, William, Sarah, Beatrice, Anne, Camilla, Edward VIII, George VII (prince George of Wales), Prince George – The Duke of Kent, George V, George VI, Meghan. Third lives are all about expansiveness, being enterprising, seeking out adventure, campaigning, ambitious – they, as can be imagined, make formidable foes!.

Yacht Wintering Lithograph 30/50 ©1984 Christopher Pratt

Katharine at seventh level mature, and a priest soul was precisely what one witnessed in a rather remarkable life. Healer of the spirit is the hallmark of priest souls, and boy did she epitomise this more than any other titled royal. Though both are third mature sages, Lilibet will have nothing in common with Sarah, Duchess of York. Sarah’s is a third life at that soul age which means being enterprising and more than likely prone to creating bad karma. Lilibet’s is a second life – more souls pass second lives in wealthy surroundings than not: Diana, Princess of Wales, Archie, Louis, Lilibet, Wallis, Katharine, Charles 9th Earl Spencer, Eugenie, Queen Victoria & HLM Queen Elizabeth II. If they aren’t born to baronial wealth, they are very likely to wed into it.

Harry & Meghan Take Manhattan @Meghan

Both Catherine and Harry are fifth mature warrior souls; however, it is Catherine’s third life and Harry’s fourth life. That gives Harry a scholarly focus to this life. Like every scholar that I’ve ever known, including Merlin, they will up and leave a room, relationship, or job, if there is unbearable discord. Where others will stay, a scholar will not. Scholars literally have to leave a room rather than suffer discord, confrontation, hostilities. Three to five is the usual number of lives passed at each soul age; however, there can be as many as six or more, especially so if it is a sixth level life as all such lives are about paying back all the karma incurred during the cycle of that soul age.

D’Angelo – How Does It Feel

11.2.1974 <> 14.10.2025

Sweet and blissful dreams marvellous creative genius… we love you more.

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

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

As Ever!

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

Harry & Meghan BC Place Invictus Games Opening Ceremony

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

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

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

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

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

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

As Ever… Checkmate!  © @meghan

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

H & M © @meghan

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

World’s biggest cancer-faking shabbos goy.

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

Drag him!

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

A little snow never stopped any party.

Meghan!

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

Catherine by George, Charlotte & Louis

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

Viewing stats from @Meghan
Invictus Games closing ceremony, Rogers Arena, Vancouver

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

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

H&M Love wins!

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

Sing!

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

Reunion Blues – Oscar Peterson Trio 1963

Oscar Peterson – Piano

Ray Brown – Bass

Ed Thigpen – Drums

Live in Sweden, 1963.

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

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

What Started It All…

Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex at the Grenfell community kitchen

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

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

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

Doria and The Duke & Duchess of Sussex

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

Together. Our Community Cookbook

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

Royal Tour of The Duke & Duchess of Sussex, 2018

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meghan 2025… Something’s Cooking!

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

Meghan The Duchess of Sussex on Instagram

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

Let’s Go! With Love, Meghan Netflix

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

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

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

With Love, Meghan. Netflix

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

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

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

Meghan… The World’s most powerful woman

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

Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex & Tyler Perry

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

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

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

Phoenix Mandala for John Hirsch by Merlin, 1979

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

John Hirsch

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

Stratford Festival Theatre – Main Stage

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

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

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

This fragment had a Mars/Saturn body type. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Ella Fitzgerald in Concert in Sweden, 1963

Ella Fitzgerald – Vocals

Don Abney & Oscar Peterson – Piano

Ray Brown – Bass

Jo Jones – Drums

Herb Ellis – Guitar

Roy Eldridge – Trumpet

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

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

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

Hello, My Darling!

Triptych August 1972

Oil and sand on three canvases

©1972 Francis Bacon

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

Manhattan rooftop water tanks

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

Portrait of Isabel Rawsthorne

Oil on Canvas

©1966 Francis Bacon

Provenance: Tate Britain

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

The bust of a man

Pen and Ink

c. 1545

Baccio Bandinelli

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

Reclining Figure

Plaster and string

1951 Henry Moore

Henry Moore & Francis Bacon, Tate Britain

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

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

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

Henry’s body type was Saturn/Venus. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fortnum & Mason, Piccadilly

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

Royal Academy of Art

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

Iris

Oil on Canvas

1890 Vincent van Gogh

Provenance: National Gallery of Canada

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

Sketch for a Portrait of Lisa (Sainsbury)

Oil on Canvas

1955 Francis Bacon

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

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

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

Francis’ body type was Saturn/Lunar. 

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

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

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

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

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

Portrait of D. H. Kahnweiler II

Crayon transfer Lithograph

1957 Pablo Picasso

British Museum

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

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

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

Pablo’s body type was Venus/Saturn. 

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

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

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

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

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

The Japanese Galleries, The British Museum

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

St. George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle

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

King George VI Memorial Chapel (DailyMail)

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

Freedom. George Michael 1990

Naomi

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

Campbell, Naomi 22/5/1970 London, England

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

Naomi’s body type is Saturn/Mercury. 

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

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

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

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

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

Andy Warhol & Jean-Michel Basquiat. Michael Halsband 1985

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucian had a Saturn/Mars body type. 

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

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

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

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

The Tales of Hoffmann. Royal Opera House

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

The Farnese Hercules. Royal Academy of Art

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

Tosca, Royal Opera House, Covent Garden

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

Royal Opera House, Covent Garden

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

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

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

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

Quincy’s body type was Venus/Mars. 

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

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

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

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

Quincy Jones & Orchestra

Jazz pour tous

©1961 Belgium

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

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

K_’aax_ada awg_a

K_’aax_ada awg_a (Dogfish Mother)

Serigraph

27.5 x 22 Inches

Edition: 95/95

©2020 Tyson Brown (Iljuuwaas)

IG: @tysonisnotbrown

Provenance: The da Brgha Collection

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

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

Ray Charles – Vocals & Piano

Betty Carter – Vocals

ABC Records

©1961

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

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

Autumnal Mood

Heron

Serigraph

13.25 x 34.50 Inches

Artist Proof

©1977 Alex Colville

Provenance: The da Brgha Collection

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

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

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

Sir Anthony van Dyck, Self-Portrait

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

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

This fragment had a Saturn/Lunar body type.   

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Duke Ellington & John Coltrane: In a Sentimental Mood

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Cover Photo: Portrait of Cornelis van der Geest

Oil on canvas

1620 Sir Anthony van Dyck

Provenance: National Gallery, London UK

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Self-Portrait

Oil on Canvas

1640 Sir Anthony van Dyck

Provenance: National Portrait Gallery, London UK

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Massacre of the Innocents

Oil on Canvas

1611-1612 Sir Anthony van Dyck

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

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

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

Bitch! I Don’t Need Fucking Gaydar!

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

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

Lady Naugahyde’s new Joker face

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

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

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

Walking the facelift at Horse Guards Parade, 2024

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Carlos Alcaraz & Novak Djokovic

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

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

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

Supremacist Baroness Marie-Christine’s relations

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

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

Prince Harry Tabloids on Trial ITV Documentary, July 2024

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

Fabricated headline based nowhere in either fact or reality

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

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

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

Prince Andrew, The Duke of York

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

William & his horribly scraggly beard

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

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

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

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

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

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

Farcical Misogynoir hatemongers

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

Jumbie Fire

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

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

Kamala Harris

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

Joan Rivers Lies about Michelle Obama

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

Racist Briton not voting for Kamala. Truly shocked…

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

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

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

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

Jeremy Clarkson incites anti-Black racism against Meghan

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

Harry, Meghan & The Queen royal ascot, June 2018

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

Pimped by gangsta playa, Snoop Dogg

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

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

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

Lena Horne Believe in Yourself 1981 Tony Awards

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

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

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

Charlie Drinkwater & Doug Wilson, 1977

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

Toronto Reference Library

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

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

Winter Moon

Serigraph

32 x 32 Inches

Artist Proof: II/III

©2023 Susan A. Point

Provenance: da Brgha Collection.

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

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

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

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

Modern Jazz Quartet North Sea Jazz Festival 1982

Modern Jazz Quartet grooving the souls of the spiritually evolved.

Percy Heath – Bass

John Lewis – Piano

Milt Jackson – Vibraphone

Connie Cay – Drums

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

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

Revisited: Dream of Meghan!

All these years later, I have finally had an initial dream encounter with Meghan, the Duchess of Sussex. It occurred as I slept during mid-day on Friday, January 27, 2023 whilst the Moon transited both Aries and my 11th house. As per usual, Prince Harry (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, Harry 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 from 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, the 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.

Woman, Artists Proof. Lithograph. © 1980 George Hawken

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 to my skeptic, faster than lightning striking the CN Tower shot back, “Well, it’s about damn time!”

Here’s to American Riviera Orchard, every success Ma’am. And to Prince Harry, Prince Archie, Princess Lilibet Diana & Doria.

Take A Look. ©1993 Elektra Records Natalie Cole

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

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

Piñatas Get Whacked!

Queen Margrethe II 16.4.1940 Dragon 7.2.7 = 7

I have always admired this Queen, Margrethe II, and it never failed to impress on me that she is possessed of three 7s. That’s a powerhouse. Thus it was that during her New Year’s message when she announced that she was going to abdicate on January 14, 2024, the 52nd anniversary of her ascension, I wickedly howled then exclaimed, “And that is how you whack a piñata!” Despite that little battyfaced fabulist in the Fisher Price château, spending 25 minutes talking readily fished filler on Google, I knew without doubt Margrethe II’s reason for abdicating – the Danish constitution forbids the monarch from divorcing!

Crown Princess Mary of Denmark, breaks down in public whilst in New Zealand

So as the beautiful Crown Princess Mary had a meltdown in New Zealand over the Christmas break after being humilated by that orbital minor aristocrat with big dreams inspired by Queen Camilla, at all of three 7s, Margrethe had other ideas. No, indeed, unlike her recently departed third cousin, HLM Queen Elizabeth II, Margrethe II had no intentions of having her beloved grandchildren (Crown Prince Christian, Princess Isabella, Prince Vincent & Princess Josephine) endure the mental/emotional stress of a divorce’s fallout. Like a truly shrewd/amoral woman with first number of 7, Margrethe II signed the abdication papers at the Danish Parliament, got up, her grandson, Crown Prince Christian handed her, her cane and with that she announced, “God Save The King” turned and walked out, all before King Frederik X could sign and thus officially become king.

Trying to force a divorce by calling the paparazzi and masquerading the morning after in Madrid

Two libidinous piñatas whacked with the stroke of a pen. No need, lovely Mary to feel dispair and break down in public, Margrethe II has got things in control. Margrethe II was Queen for half a century; she’s got balls and knows her power. No protracted drama in the tabloids of cheating, scandals, separation, divorce and a possible remarriage replete with mariachi band for aspirant Danish Camilla.

King Frederik X & Queen Mary, January 14, 2024, Copenhagen

So before you could fan yourself and throw some serious side eye, Conchita deleted her social media presence within days of Mary rightfully taking her place in history as Queen, not having been divorced and dispensed with à la Diana, Princess of Wales to be replaced by a Camilla full of fillers. In short order, Margrethe II signed those documents, grabbed her cane and declared, ‘Now get out there and make my grandchildren’s mother, Mary, your Queen!” Damn right, Margrethe II does not run a pantomime.

George, Louis, Catherine & King Charles III at Sandringham, Christmas Day, 2023

Speaking of piñatas getting whacked… On Boxing Day, (December 26, 2023) I awoke from a rather lucid dream that was brief but potent; it was the last dream before awaking that day in late afternoon. In this the final dream, I came to where there was a couple engaged in kinky sexual play. Initially, the couple’s identity was not readily discernible as I came to in midstride into a bedroom where the couples heads were closer to me and down. Over the bottom’s right shoulder, the top partner’s head was buried whilst aggressively ploughing the bottom whose hands were bound to the bedposts with head turned away to left; the bottom was clearly gagged. The room was dimly lit and sparsely furnished. Ritualised, the couple hardly made noise, save for the bed’s motion; it was rough play.

Rough Play Bed

Abruptly, the top got from the bed and it proved to be Catherine; she would stilettos, a glossy PVC black bodysuit and wore a rather large-headed, upturned strapon. Aggressively, she took her leave of the room with William, #Peggalicius, remaining in bed spent. Prior to that, I had come to in another dream encounter with Catherine. This time, I onlooked as she arrived on what I assumed was Mustique where traditionally the family vacations at the home of the late Princess Margaret. This, though, was much too heavily trafficked; there were lots of yachts in the crystalline waters. I decided that for such a private island, there were too many super yachts here. Could it be St. Thomas U. S. Virgin Islands; however, there were no cruise ships. Not until several days later, in mid-January did the dream’s locale make sense. I then realised that the dream undoubtedly was set in St. Barths.

I swooped down from onhigh, after having arrived in an intensely lucid flying dream. I alighted and as I walked unobserved, I knew that my astrally projected dream body remained invisible. I strode along after a party of about eight persons. I continued on as the party was well removed from the noise and play of the wealthy persons about. There was a tall woman in a colourful muumuu, wearing a broadrimmed straw hat, large shades with blonde hair that bobbed at her shoulders. Stunned was I as I watched the overweight woman, once in a large private suite, get out of a fatsuit, toss aside the blonde wig on the bed, revealing that it was Catherine in disguise. She then came outside to a walled courtyard where a riot of creaping bourgainvillea blooms crowned the awning, affording shade and privacy. She sat in a long white lounge chair, wearing large predatory black shades whilst firmly speaking to someone on the large white phone; her tone was raspish, vile… predatory.

Dream foretelling HM Queen Elizabeth II’s passing

As with the preceding dream, it was dreamt on the eve of the73rd birthday of Prince Charles, the Prince of Wales in November, 2021. Readily, I committed the dream to this blog as I instinctually knew that HM The Queen would pass within the coming year; the following early September, 2022, she passed. There would be little credibility to the dream if I were to have shared it after The Queen’s passing. I awoke and knew straight away that I had to share the prophetic dream. So, too, were these sequential dreams of Catherine, Princess of Wales on Boxing Day, 2023, possessed of the sense of knowing and they were dreams which presaged things to come.

Top to Bottom: Centuries Old English Oak, Cedar of Lebanon at Althorp House & Millennial Yew

The next dream of a senior royal occurred just a couple of days after New Year’s Day, 2024. Since becoming sovereign in September, 2022, it was the first dream had of King Charles III. It is not uncommon to dream of persons with whom you have past life history that was positive; if they happen to be famous and thus recognisable from the waking state in the dreamtime, it is rare. Most times, such persons may well be alive but unkown to self and therefore a mystery though familiar in the dreamtime. This dream was one of high moment. HM King Charles III wore the most glorious saffron robe that was not golden and it draped on the zingy grass after him.

Healing Park of Tuning Fork Trees

Just as in the above dream entitled, “Come on, Let’s Go For A Ride!” All the trees here as in that park were perfectly shaped into topiary tuning forks. They were massive on the order of the giant redwoods of the American northwest; however, here these trees easily were thrice as tall as those ones. The air was pure and inordinately oxygen rich. There were only three types of trees in the dream as represented above: oaks, evergreens and yews, each a colassal trunked column whose branches halved and towered upwards forming perfect tuning forks. I had been in this place before, though, never with Merlin. I had been measurably gliding along drinking in the super negative ions of the place, upping my frequency in the process. I had thrown open my eyes and seen King Charles III coming towards me. Immediately, his exposed hands did not betray the thickened fingers of the waking state; they were long digits that were fluid, sensitive… creative. His age here betrayed his agedness of spirit; King Charles III is a seventh level mature warrior soul – Prince Archie, by the way, is also seventh level mature but a priest soul. They are both the oldest souls of all the senior royals whose overleaves I am aware of. These three majestic arborial species were triple-rowed and along a wide path that easily was wider and longer by ten times than both Windsor Castle’s and Blenheim Palace’s long walks.

Buster Meditating in Pyramid flanked by three George Hawkens, A Bill Reid & A Henry Moore

Comfortably ensconced in my trusty pyramid and lucidly self-aware, I began upping my vibration, drawing in the power and frequency of the trees about me. Swirling about me, the energy soon took on hues of blue-white light, which I directed upwards and outwards whilst King Charles III stood comfortably distant. The light grew more intense, the power more potent until effortlessly my lids fluttered and I awoke with the crystals still in place at the chakra points which rarely they remain during sleep.

Harry & his pa, Charles and his darling boy

Days later, as I looked at live TV, Prince Charles’s former communications secretary, Kristina Kyriacou, said on ITV, “No one could make Prince Charles laugh louder than Prince Harry could…” At that moment, you could have heard a pin drop; no one was better placed to have known this. Indeed, half of King Charles III’s healing was doubtless affected as Prince Harry walked into the salon at Clarence House and they greeted each other, “Hi pa” “Oh my darling boy,” they hugged and both lost tears. Nothing else, not the fabulist bullshit of that battyfaced crossdresser or the other royal experts whether outed by Archie Manners or not – they are all the fucking same… blithering, snobbish, bullshit artists.

EE BAFTA Awards Statuets

Talk about guilty conscience. Just looked at the 2024 EE BAFTA Awards and darling, I honestly had no clue that the shitty li’l racist island’s BAFTAs was specifically an awards ceremony for Blacks. Naturally, as #Peggalicious is president of BAFTA, the #EtonianPoofter has seen fit to fight back against the family having been categorically outed in Omid Scobie’s Endgame as dire anti-Black racists – as if it were not readily obvious at Prince Harry & Meghan’s wedding. Of course, going by those dreams, King Charles III would turn out to be stricken with cancer, hence the giant yew trees in the energy transference dream encounter – extracts from yew bark is used in cancer treatments. Of course, what better way to be rid of the otiose #Middledumb zombie but to push for a divorce. Naturally, as all is slight of hand with The Firm, Catherine has been mysteriously ill and indisposed for a least several months – has she been embalmed and The Firm awaiting the right time to stage the news and disposal. As per the dream, I rather suspect that whilst at Sandringham at Christmas, #Peggalicious violently demanded a divorce, #Middledumb the mute dominatrix, fled to Bucklebury and hightailed it to St. Barths by private jet, in cropped blonde wig and fatsuit no less, where for now, she is staying put with 80m£ worth of missing royal jewels.

HM King James I & his lover, George Villiers the Duke of Buckingham

Christian Jones, the Duke of Buckingham & Norfolk and Peggalicious besotted & Incandescent

Certainly, I cannot see them offering #Middledumb more than 40m£ to go away. Naturally, she has taken flight, not wanting to suffer the same fate that befell the eternally beautiful, Diana, Princess of Wales. It most certainly will be interesting to see if in due course, #Peggalicious makes Christian Jones, Duke of Buckingham & Norfolk; King James I certainly set the tone when making his lover, George Villiers, the Duke of Buckingham.

#Middlemuted Missing but is she missed?

Is it piñata whacking time one wonders?

At the one hour & twelfth minute mark of this landmark live performance in New York City on December 4, 1992, Diana Ross performs the best rendition of Strange Fruit since Billie Holiday. And what a stellar assembly of Jazz musicians it was!

Liner Notes:

Arranged By [Music Arranged By] – Gil Askey
[The BIg Band], Alto Saxophone – Frank Wess (tracks: 15 to 18), Justin Robinson (tracks: 15 to 18)
[The BIg Band], Baritone Saxophone – Gary Smulyan (tracks: 15 to 18)
[The BIg Band], Bass – Ron Carter (tracks: 15 to 18)
[The BIg Band], Drums – Grady Tate (tracks: 15 to 18)
[The BIg Band], Guitar – Ted Dunbar (tracks: 15 to 18)
[The BIg Band], Piano – Barry Harris (2) (tracks: 15 to 18)
[The BIg Band], Tenor Saxophone – Jerome Richardson (tracks: 15 to 18), Ralph Moore (2) (tracks: 15 to 18)
[The BIg Band], Trombone – Garnett Brown (tracks: 15 to 18), Slide Hampton (tracks: 15 to 18), Urbie Greene* (tracks: 15 to 18)
[The BIg Band], Trumpet – Gil Askey (tracks: 15 to 18), John Longo (tracks: 15 to 18), Jon Faddis (tracks: 16 to 19), Roy Hargrove (tracks: 15 to 18), Stanton Davis (tracks: 15 to 18)
[The Band], Alto Saxophone – Justin Robinson (tracks: 1 to 10)
[The Band], Bass – Ron Carter (tracks: 1 to 10)
[The Band], Drums – Grady Tate (tracks: 1 to 10)
[The Band], Guitar – Ted Dunbar (tracks: 1 to 10)
[The Band], Piano – Barry Harris (2) (tracks: 1 to 10)
[The Band], Tenor Saxophone – Ralph Moore (2) (tracks: 1 to 10)
[The Band], Trombone – Urbie Greene* (tracks: 1 to 10)
[The Band], Trumpet – Gil Askey (tracks: 1 to 10), Jon Faddis (tracks: 1 to 10), Roy Hargrove (tracks: 1 to 10)
[The Sextet], Drums – Grady Tate (tracks: 11 to 14)
[The Sextet], Piano – Bobby Tucker (tracks: 11 to 14)
[The Sextet], Tenor Saxophone – Jerome Richardson (tracks: 11 to 14)
[The Sextet], Trombone – Garnett Brown (tracks: 11 to 14)
[The Sextet], Trumpet – Gil Askey (tracks: 11 to 14), Jon Faddis (tracks: 11 to 14)
Executive Producer – Diana Ross
Leader [Music Director] – Jon Faddis
Producer – Ben Sidran
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Rage! Especially at a time like this, rage is the passion one feels at you having the audacity to speciously claim that Jazz has its roots in Klezmer… live on-air! You just know that faster than a sneeze, I was manically dialling up JazzFM and vituperatively emasculating the little fabulist fraud. You can squat all over the culture all you want; however, you are to Jazz what wings are to ostriches. Seriously, what do ostriches know of flight? More to the point, eagles do not give a goddamn that ostriches have wings. The audacity of you as one, enraptured by the language of Jazz, stratospherically soars twenty thousand feet above the oddity of you stealing, squatting… noise-making! Happy Black history month. Jazz, above all else, is the spiritual manifestation of that intensely enriched Black history!

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

Dream of Meghan!

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.

Woman, Artists Proof. Lithograph. © 1980 George Hawken

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!”

Take A Look. ©1993 Elektra Records Natalie Cole

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!

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

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