Pulp You!

17.8.1949 Ox 8.7.3 = 9

Energy body of 8. All persons with 8 are lazy and entitled. They marry with the opinion that their spouse is supposed to afford them the riches to which they were destined – god forbid these slobs should ever attempt being something as gauche as being self-made. Too much work…

Attitude of 7 – the holier-than-thou entitled god complex. Meh! These people are in touch with the other side, see things and can be rather elegantly reserved…. obviously, there are exceptions to everything!

Third number of 3, which denotes intellect and all things literary. Again, in Vedic numerology, there is nothing positive about any number. In other words, this is just another Jamaican skekkle who like fe chat too much. And yes, they are more interested in the sound of their voices and creating a stir than they are possessed of truly stellar intellect.

Most of all, 9 is the soul number – where this one has been and what it is here to divest itself of. All 9s are innate bigots and the biggest snobs and defenders of the flame – whatever they deem that to be.

HRH Princess Anne, Princess Royal. 15.8.1950 Tiger 6.5.2=4

As ever, the need to get a rise with the latest shocking fabulist fare and soar above the fray, telling any lie in order to stay relevant and sell more pulpable fare – so that she can keep buying strands that readily scream Poundand Duchess, along comes the specious allegation, spoken as though the gospel truth of course, that HRH Princess Anne, Princess Royal was the one to have expressed concerns about the Sussexes’ melanin-blessed offspring. Like HRH Prince Harry, Anne has a 6 in her numbers which means, she is fiercely loyal and not given to gossip. More than that, Princess Anne is a 4 and such persons do not gladly suffer fools nor would they take kindly to someone implicating them in a lie. With that 4, it is very likely in the right circumstance, HRH Princess Anne would readily hunt down our runaway Jamaican skekkle turned Poundland Duchess, hogtie and use the crop on her until she is within a breath of expiring. It was not HRH Princess Anne, Princess Royal whom the Sussexes implicated in their sit-down interview with Oprah on CBS.

Obviously, the Sussexes in their sit-down interview with Oprah on CBS were referring to a more senior-positioned royal than the Eurotrash bigot, HRH Princess Michael of Kent. This, of course, the Poundland Duchess knows but if you throw gasoline on HRH Princess Anne, Princess Royal’s statute and scream fire, the blind en masse will look and start claiming to see. It was the Cambridges; this was validated by the weak, oafish William outing himself by weakly protesting, “We are very much not a racist family!” Talking crap about ‘some people’ like taking offense at everything. Well guess what orangutan-mammoried one, Princess Eurotrash of Flat-Arsedom’s little blackamoor brooch incident, was not some dream of the Duchess of Sussex’s that she shared whilst in conversation with Oprah on CBS. It occurred, may I remind you, in December 2017 at HM The Queen’s Christmas lunch at Buckingham Palace. The blackaoor brooch was as racist as if Meghan were Jewish and HRH Princess Michael of Kent showed up being anti-Semitic and wore a swastika. Put that in your crackpipe, why don’t you?

The Poundland Duchess needs to get real and start writing truth rather than more of the same pulpable fare. Just look at the material on offer: paedophilia, adultery in Norfolk and lots more. Leave the Sussexes alone; these bigoted jackasses have no idea the incalculable damage they cost Britain LLP.

A true pity that Lily Safra pulped the wrong trifling drivel. That aside, sooner or later, you will bend down, pick your shadow up off the floor and crawl you and your Poundland strand-draped orangutan mammaries into your casket. In the age of mercantile excess, you and your throwaway dreck are precisely what are increasingly insufferable. I’ve a copy of Empress Bianca, on which I expect a damn good return. Go on, stop timewasting you casket fugitive and crawl the fuck in your casket. Pulp you!

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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©2013-2021 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.

Hymn to Freedom.

© 1964 Oscar Peterson Trio Live in Denmark.

© 1962 Oscar Peterson – composition.

© 1963 Night Train – Verve Records.

Piano: Oscar Peterson

Bass: Ray Brown

Drums: Ed Thigpen

Heals the very soul every time!  When in Winnipeg at the school of the Royal Winnipeg Ballet, I was the only student not included in the mounting of Romeo and Juliet, the company’s first full-scale ballet since David Peregrine and Evelyn Hart had won the bronze prize in Varna, Bulgaria.

This music, this giant of a genius, this album literally saved my life.

I felt such shame at having been excluded; having been properly isolated and rendered invisible, one then had to proceed as though one’s exclusion was not the most hurtful rejection.  The only thing that spirited me away from the abyss of self-implosion was this music.

A beautiful, male Jamaican-born nurse had given it to me on the second weekend of my stay in the city.  He had played the album after his truly elephantine cock had just ravaged my soul and I did nothing but stay there in bed flying-without-moving – and he was a damn good cook too!

Years later, after Merlin’s passing, I sat in the corner curled up with sage entity mate, Daryll Newcombe – now dead of AIDS, at every performance of Oscar Peterson at the Bermuda Onion Jazz Club on Bloor Street between Bay Street and Avenue Road.

The Bermuda Onion had great atmosphere.  More than that, it proved the only Jazz club in Toronto where one’s race did not preclude entry therein.

I was truly healed for being at those performances; I had survived Winnipeg and gone on to meet Merlin.  I had to have attended each performance, for Oscar’s sheer genius had not only enriched but it had literally saved my life.  So it was that, in later years, I was grossly disappointed by his glaring humanity.

His self-karmic issues notwithstanding, this was one genius of towering, staggering magnitude.  Much of the beauty of this giant’s genius is how pure, simple and warmly enveloping it ever was.

Indeed, one has much to be fiercely proud of in celebrating Black History, Black culture, Jazz, because of shamanic healers of the soul like Oscar Peterson.

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© 2013-2020 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.