Changes Afoot…

Prime Minister Mark Carney & Justin Trudeau

On the cusp of his sixtieth birthday, this economic shaman, Mark Carney, born in the year of the Snake, handsomely won the Liberal leadership on the first ballot, thereby becoming Canada’s 24th Prime Minister. Thank you, dear Justin Trudeau for nobly having served this great beautiful land of ours. I fell deeply in love with this man and his family when in 1998 in the biting cold of a Montréal winter’s day, I stood outside St. Viateur and wept with most everyone onlooking as Justin and his bereft family followed their brother and beloved son’s casket from the tiny church. Pierre Trudeau was never the same after that; thereafter, he’d be observed in the park next to his lovely art deco home with the black dog aimlessly playing with itself and quietly attendant as the former Prime Minister stood alone and worlds removed from his outer reality.

Chancellor George Osborne announces Mark Carney as Governor of the Bank of England

So many wonderful firsts for PM Carney. First Canadian Prime Minister from the territories, first foreign born Governor of the Bank of England, after having served as the Governor of the Bank of Canada. Harvard & Oxford educated, our new Prime Minister, Mark Carney has a PHD in Economics. Of course, since having been elected that blasted felon has had to take a moment to recalibrate.

This pathological liar and reptilian off-worlder, with a fiendishly loyal band of violent stowaways, seems to think that he can lie his way into the annexation of Canada. He is the most vile, hideous, disruptive moron and, of course, he represents the White tribe’s last great stand as the planet’s top baboon. You can fight all you want and throw up all manner of repressive lunatic edicts favoured by tyrants throughout time, your murderous regime will never endure. We here in Canada do not have time to be another territory of a rogue colonial Middle Eastern gulag where Poles and others get to indulge their genocidal tendencies. This is Canada and we are not disavowing our sovereignty to please anyone, entitled or otherwise. Just like England’s Henry VI, that reptilian masquerading as human will come to no good end, his racialised empire is doomed to failure.

Canadian Parliament, Ottawa

We are Canadian and under no circumstances are we ever giving up 18 months of paid parental leave, healthcare, child support to age 18, childcare, dental care for minors and seniors, subsidised drugs after age 65. OAS, CPP and GIS. Why exactly would we give up any of these benefits, let alone all and for what? Healthcare should not involve bankruptcy or having to resort to gofundme.com as a desperate way to fund one’s healthcare. We don’t have mass school shootings and don’t want them. We most definitely do not want Canada suddenly overrun by at least 70 million gun-crazed, Christo-fascist lunatics demanding that Canadians fall into line, which is precisely the outcome that would unfold.

Effectively, immediately, with the declaration of war from the mentally unbalanced President, Canada needs to ban the movement of Americans across its borders as far too many of them will be attempting to cross the border in advance of annexation about which they’ve grown obsessed since their fabulist insurrectionist lied to them and falsely declared that Canada owes them money and that America has been subsidising Canada to the tune of 200$B plus per year.

This is not a threat; the declaration of war from the world’s biggest loser, has united Canada and has catapulted us into looking inward and divorcing our glorious nation from being in any way associated with a failed, bankrupt, racist, collapsing empire of 750 plus military bases across the planet. This is our Canada, not America’s. From our lumber, to potash, steel, aluminium, oil, gas, nickel, pharmaceuticals and hydro electricity, we are done with you. We will take this time to save Canadian steel by immediately building high-speed rail from Toronto, Ottawa, Montréal to Québec City and from Edmonton, Calgary, Banff to Vancouver in the Lower Mainland. To hell with you, you’ve nothing edifying to offer. We are tired of your racism. We are tired with your grooming gun-crazed cop shows, film and TV ethos of latter day Brahminism where the few damn well rewrite American history whilst erasing Black, Brown & Native American history and culture.

PC Pierre Poilievre

Conservative leader, Pierre Poilievre is compromised and is supported by the likes of Jordan Peterson, Elon Musk and favoured by Donald Trump, despite his recent remarks. More importantly, Pierre has styled himself as a Trumpian conservative. Precisely why this man who has never introduced a single bill in Parliament after 20 years, is unfit to be prime minister is that he was the subject of a CSIS investigation, which concluded that the Government of India interfered in the last Canadian Federal election to Poilievre’s advantage; this is why he refuses to get a security clearance. Pierre opposes abortion, LGBTQ rights, First Nations’ reconciliation and other alarming American conservative positions. Poilievre has voted in parliament against the expansion of the Canada Pension to match the rise in the cost of living, he has also voted in favour of not expanding the Canada pension scheme; too, he favoured the idea of Employers not paying in to their workers’ pension plan. Poilievre would readily sell off universal healthcare in Canada to the American insurers who would readily expand their market share and make Canadians have to resort to gofundme to cover their healthcare costs in an emergency.

Alberta Premier Danielle Smith

In a recent show of her disdain for Canadian federalism, Danielle Smith refused to attend in person a premier’s emergency meeting to address Trump tariffs, instead attending by Zoom. She has dismissed Prime Minister Mark Carney as not having any experience in federal politics; this said while pitching Canada as a 51st state in Texas. The man who single-handedly saved Canada in the banking crisis of 2008 and again kept afloat the British banking system and economy at Brexit, when both governor of the Banks of Canada and England is ill-equipped to manage the finances of Canada in its greatest financial crisis, Smith sees PM Mark Carney as unqualified for the job of Canadian prime minister. Smith, unlike any other Canadian premier hightailed it to Mar-a-Lago after Trump’s win to promise him that she would secure him Alberta oil at a cheap rate. All resources are Canada’s and no province has sole proprietorship. She is a wild rose conservative, who welcomes the Christo-fascism of the Trump administration.

NDP leader Jagmeet Singh needs to do the honourable thing, like Bloc Québécois leader, Yves-François Blanchet and announce to their supporters to vote three NDP and Bloc Québécois candidates into power and the rest of their vote should strategically go to secure a resounding Liberal majority, headed by economist PM, Mark Carney. America has declared war on Canada and now, more than ever, we need to vote intelligently. Neither the Bloc nor NDP can form the opposition or for that matter the next government. A vote for them is the terrifyingly real possibility of Poilievre becoming the next Canadian prime minister. That would assuredly mean that he would roll over to Trump and allow Canada to lose its sovereignty and become the 51st state.

Make no mistakes about it, America is broke and Canada’s resources are what these power mad clowns are after. DOGE will be their undoing. Both are racist White male boors who are little aware of the bigger picture. Seriously, how is that even supposed to work? We just surrender and in exchange for gun-crazed Americans by the tens of millions, rushing across their northern border and seeing it as the new gold rush into the wild wild north of yesteryear’s wild wild west, we get to be American second-class citizens. Fuck that! Canadians are as different to Americans as Norwegians are to Italians. We have distinct cultures and morals that have positively nothing in common. I would defend with every fibre of my being First Nations societies and the Québécois maintaining their distinct cultures and languages. Time to elbow up and ban all America fare, not just alcohol, but TV, film. Slap tariffs on their film and television, because it is not as though they favour Canadian culture or actors. Nope, we are never as favoured or seemingly as good as Britons, thanks to their proximity to the Royal family and BAFTA having its only external wing in Los Angeles that affords them elbow room over all other foreign comers. Well, to hell with all that. Time to take Canadian film and TV to the next level.

True north strong and free! Elbows way up. Vive le Canada libre!

Oscar Peterson Trio – C Jam Blues

Live in Denmark,1964.

Oscar Peterson – Piano

Ray Brown – Bass

Ed Thigpen – 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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©2013-2025 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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©2013-2025 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.

Redux: The Dreamer Awakens…

Shaman’s Staff

This dream occurred, on Monday, December 7, 1992, whilst the Moon transited both my twelfth house – appropriately enough – and Taurus.  Merlin my mentor had initiated in me the task of coming into my own and becoming the awakened warrior.

Here was I, dream magus, awakened warrior, displaying my power – bonding with nature and bonding with the very force itself.  Said dream was the first experienced in exquisite lucidity in the ‘B’ or second sleep phase that day.

Calling Forth the Light

A yard at late twilight when morning breaks, rather than the indeterminate light that pervades astral plane dreams, was the setting for this dream.  It seemed pretty much like the backyard of the Crab Hill, Sandy Point, St. Kitts house. I was in a tree that looked like a giant bug weed.  I stepped out onto one of its branches.  Whilst simultaneously in the body and astrally projected, somehow, I could see myself from behind and above. This dream began as I boldly, in mid-stride, walked towards the large soulful tree.  Here, I had incredibly long hair and it was totally white.

Jah Rastafari!

The snow-white mane went down to the small of my back.  Mine – it was no absurd weave.  Full and luscious, it was a massive mane that handsomely flared out. Here, I met the dream magus within.  I held a staff which was very wonderful.  It was made of a tanned polished wood.  As if something that Bill Reid would bring forth from the depths of his creative genius, it was a very sculptural staff.

“One Good Thing About Music, When It Hits You Feel No Pain!” Bob Marley

Like a totem, the staff had lots of symbols throughout its length.  In some of the grooves, there were several large crystals with some of various colours.  Like Merlin did, in our first dream encounter of 1978, I wore a long, white flowing robe that billowed in the wind. Whilst radiating much of my inner light, I was very regal.  This was a moment of stellar beauty; too, the sight of myself empowered blew me away.  It was so humbling. I had a long beard and drooping moustache.  It was also white and considerably longer than Merlin’s facial hair ever was. As a matter of fact, it was like the flowing, wispy beards of some Japanese and East Asian holy men.

Mighty Oak

On going out to the edge of the branch, I stabbed my staff into the tree and let out a war cry.  Almost immediately thereafter, a fierce wind picked up.  It was gale-forced. The sky became blackened with mushrooming, heavy grey clouds.  The branch, on which I stood, was no more than four feet off the ground.  The winds were so fierce that it felt as though I were out to sea. I regally stayed my ground as though the captain at the bow of a galleon – one being swept by fierce waves. Whilst anchored on the branch, all I held on to was the staff.  With my free hand, I held on to a branch on the left – of course, the branches moved with a life of their own. The tree was partially submerged in the ghaut that bordered the back of the Crab Hill, Sandy Point, St. Kitts property.  Looking across the ghaut, I had been facing due north. The winds were so fierce that I could never see to the other side of the ghaut.  What’s more, it was a much wider gorge than Crab Hill’s.  Besides which, I had no time to project that far.

The Force Behind the Power

Bob Marley & the Wailers. Trench Town Rock LIVE

For one thing, the winds were too fierce and for another, the task of staying atop this branch proved far too demanding.  This wind was fiercer than anything I had ever experienced. The saving grace of it all was that it was not, thankfully, a wintry wind.  The funny thing about the whole experience was that I had called forth the elements to energise my being. So in tune with nature was I, I was able to summon the gale-force winds at will.  I wished to align with nature’s empowering, life-sustaining energies.  I was fiercely enjoying the charge from it, screaming aloud and becoming transfixed. It truly was as if being stationary whilst flying at hyper-speeds in an upright position; thus, there was the dual sense of being not only on the high seas but also as if riding on a magic carpet.

Copper Pyramid: The Portal to Shamanic Quests

There was one point that, as I screamed into the wind, I immediately then saw my face from above.  Whilst simultaneously astral-projected, I was looking down into my face as I looked up into the billowing clouds. Beyond those clouds, there was some spectacular planet-being; it was much like the one that I thrillingly encountered in the dream earlier this year, on Tuesday, September 22, 1992. This was quite an exhilarating experience.  I felt a massive surge of energy flowing through the staff and into me.  The staff was marvellously potent. The look of the staff was a mélange of the creative geniuses of the artists, Bill Reid, Antoni Gaudí and Erté.  A very shamanic, magical totem it was. My face was possessed of a very high forehead; my face was also timeworn.  A face that had spanned several millennia, to date, it certainly was.  More than that, there they were my familiar, papaya-seed-succulent brown eyes.  Here, they were large, supra-dilated eyes.

Oscar Peterson Trio – Night Train

After lying there fully recalling the dreams just experienced in soul-satiating lucidity, I got from bed, fed Whoopi whilst she loudly purred, made my way to the living room and sought the warm embraceable magic of Oscar Peterson’s genius at his most profoundly sublime…

One Love. Bob Marley, 1977

Whenever this song plays, I will ever remember the night after attending Bob Marley’s concert at Maple Leaf Garden; it was November 1, 1979 and I was in my second year at York University with a hell of a lot of freedom away from my controlling mother, who was then in the early stages of the colon cancer which would claim her, a year later. Oddly enough, she was convinced that she was with child and had even begun buying diapers. After the concert, Michael, Terry, Vincent, Arnold, Donovan and I climbed into a couple of cabs and were off to Vincent’s place on Yorkville Avenue. Donovan I had met on New Year’s Eve and left the party with and bedded for the next several months. We all wore white to the concert and Vincent, who was a wealthy biracial Bajan with the most beguiling green eyes, had organised the evening. Michael was Jamaican with the most beautiful big bubble butt and a cock that can best be described as a baby elephant’s trunk. Terry was Afro-Indian from Trinidad with a temper that I knew well to stay clear of. Arnold, Nova Scotian with the sweetest laugh, was always great company. Whilst they all drank Bajan rum and enjoyed themselves, I spent most of the time, shaking ass to more Bob Marley. Everyone was in the early to mid-twenties at most with me still then nineteen years old. It was one of the best concerts ever and a spiritual moment of truly high order. Naturally, we ended up a tangle of legs, arms, tongues, cocks. Listening to this music recently, I realised that not only was I the only one of the group left, more importantly, they had all perished of AIDS, as I had recently leant of Terry.

Robert Nesta Marley 6/2/45<O>11/5/81

Michael: This fragment is (still – currently incarnate) a third level old sage – third life thereat.  Robert was in the power mode with a goal of growth.  A spiritualist, he was in the moving part of intellectual centre. 

Body type is Mars/Saturn. 

Robert‘s primary chief feature was arrogance and the secondary stubbornness – a contributing factor in his death; he refused some medical treatment. 

The fragment Robert is second-cast in second cadence; he is a member of greater cadence one.  Robert’s entity is seven, cadre one, greater cadre 1, pod 414. 

Robert’s essence twin is a sage and his task companion an artisan. 

Robert’s primary needs were: expression, freedom and acceptance. 

There are 19 past-life associations with Arvin and 13 with Merlin.  ___________________________________________

This song, this Diana Ross performance, perfectly encapsulates the empowerment and beauty of spirit that I felt on awakening from this most rapturous of dreams. I simply cannot fathom the lack of depth and awareness of persons, who never recall their dreams – truly foreign to me. Also, I include this song here because although I am not a big Diana Ross fan, I’ve only ever seen her once in performance, I share here as a tribute to all five persons with whom I attended that Bob Marley concert at Maple Leaf Gardens 44 years ago; they were, every last one of them, a diehard Diana Ross fan and lived vicariously through her music, beauty and style.

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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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©2013-2025 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.